His proclamation of love for Francesca. The certainty that those words would be his last. “But how did we get out? What happened after I was attacked?”
She let go of his hand just long enough to pull a chair closer to the bed. “You took the bear’s attention off of me when you attacked it. That gave Papa time to rush in with the pole and loop that they use when an animal is being unruly. With his head in the loop, the bear isn’t able to do anyone harm. He was released as soon as you and I were carried out of the cage.” She shrugged. “After all, it wasn’t the bear’s fault. It was that awful man’s, and…” She glanced away.
John raised one corner of his mouth. “I know I was frightened, especially for you, thinking the bear would harm you, but I’m glad they didn’t kill the bear. It wasn’t his fault. Although…”
She raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“I guess you did kind of have that coming.”
“What do you mean?”
Biting his lip, he held in a laugh. “Well, you did offend the poor creature. I mean, who wouldn’t have had their feelings hurt, being referred to as smelly?”
Laughing, Francesca playfully swatted his good arm. “Yes, I see your point. How thoughtless of me.”
“I’m just so relieved you’re unharmed, Francesca. So, so relieved. Tell me, what happened right after I was attacked? I’m rather glad I don’t remember anything after that awful paw swiped toward me.”
Taking his hand in hers again, she sighed. “I was out cold. The last thing I remember was you coming into the cage to help me after that man…” Her breath hitched.
“Oh, Francesca. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. How frightened you must have been.”
“Me? To hear what the witnesses said, you were the one who should have been frightened. But you didn’t let anything stop you. They said you got between me and the bear and protected me. Saved me. My father said—”
John widened his eyes. Finally it all came back. Mr. Hartwell refusing to let Francesca see John anymore because of his title. John making one final visit to the zoo before he said goodbye to the animals and to the dream of a life with Francesca forever. “But your father—”
“He’s here.”
“He’s here?”
“Papa?”
Her father stepped into the room. He seemed uncomfortable in the foreign surroundings, but a smile softened his features. “How are you feeling, son?”
Son? “Uh, I’ve been better, I suppose.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
What was going on? Francesca was here. In his room. And her father. Was here. In his room. How much stranger could this day become?
“John? Are you awake?” Uncle Cleo came around the corner, hobbling into the room with the butler’s aid. Mr. Hartwell moved aside and grabbed another chair, pulling it forward for Cleo, who sat down.
“Uncle Cleo, yes, I’m awake. Although I don’t think I’ll be doing anything more than lying here for a while.”
Cleo waved his hand back and forth. “Nothing to worry about, John. You just rest. Time enough to take care of matters when you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you.” He looked around the room at the faces of those who’d come to mean so much to him. How long would Francesca and her father stay? Would Cleo have them herded out now that they saw John had survived the attack?
Mr. Hartwell gave a slight nod of his head. “Mr. Fairgate, I’m so glad you’re going to be all right. I… I was concerned. And I am more grateful than you know for saving my little girl. Thank you.” Were those tears in the man’s eyes? He put his hand on Francesca’s shoulder. “Franny, I’ll see you at home later.”
“Yes, Papa.” She sighed and patted John’s hand.
Uncle Cleo watched her and chuckled. Chuckled? Wasn’t he going to read them the riot act? Why wasn’t he chastising John for being with Francesca instead of Miss Cartwright?
What in the world was going on?
Cleo leaned forward. “Francesca, dear, would you mind giving me a moment with my nephew?”
She smiled. “Not at all.” Giving John’s hand a final squeeze, she rose from the chair and left the room. The tap of her boots became softer as she vanished down the hall.
Cleo smiled, looking more contented than he had in months. “John, I am relieved beyond words that you are going to recover. You had me, well, all of us worried.”
“Yes, about that. Um… all of you…”
“I suppose you’re wondering why Miss Hartwell and her father are here?”
“Mr. Hartwell?” John shook his head. It was as if he had gone to sleep and when he’d awakened, he’d found himself in a completely different world.
Cleo leaned back against the chair’s blue upholstery. “You see, after the man who pushed Francesca and you into the cage was caught, he was given over to the authorities. Seems he was so frightened at being confined to a cell, or as he termed it, a cage like the bear’s, he broke down and cried like a tiny baby. Then he confessed all.”
“But why? Why did he do it? What would have possessed him?”
“Money. Someone paid him to do what he did.”
“But who? Who would benefit from doing that to Francesca? She has no enemies that I could imagine.”
Eyes downcast, Cleo sighed. “Oh, she had one.” He glanced back up. “I’m ashamed to say, it was Miss Cartwright.”
“What?” His eyes nearly bulged from his head. “But why?”
“Because of you.”
John frowned. “You mean, she did that to Francesca, nearly killing her, because she wanted to marry me so badly?”
Cleo nodded. “I cannot believe I was such a terrible judge of her character. I knew she was spoiled, but I never dreamed…” A tear fell from his eye. He sniffed and looked away. “Can you ever forgive me?”
John reached out his uninjured arm and clasped his uncle’s hand. “Of course I forgive you. Although you’ve done nothing wrong. It wasn’t your fault that she paid that awful man to…” He couldn’t finish the thought. Even imagining a world without Francesca was too much to stand.
“But I’m the one who pushed you two together. I knew she wanted to marry you, and since you and she had known each other since childhood and her father is such a dear friend…”
“Uncle Cleo, everything is fine now. I’ll heal, and then I can get on with things. My ornithology work. And you can further train me in what you wish me to know and accomplish as baron.” Why was every word out of John’s mouth accompanied by a sad thought? Because when he was baron, his uncle would cease to live on this earth.
Cleo sighed. “Yes, it’s true. You will continue with your research, and I will make sure you are fully prepared to inherit your duties and title. But there is that other matter we must resolve before you become baron.”
“I suppose you’re referring to a wife. But surely you don’t expect me to marry Miss Cart—”
He held up a hand. “No, of course not. As a matter of fact, she and her family have left London for their Scotland home.”
“But what of the authorities?”
“Miss Hartwell knows it was Miss Cartwright who paid that man to push her into the bear’s cage. But, angel that she is, Miss Hartwell did not want to press charges.”
“She didn’t?” John smiled. “Yes, she truly is an angel.”
“And you are in love with her.”
He nodded. “But I know you don’t find her suitable to be a baroness.” Swallowing hard, he looked at his uncle. There wouldn’t be much time for John to find someone else. Someone to be his wife before his uncle passed. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “When I get out of this bed, I suppose I shall have to—”
“Marry the woman you love.”
“But…”
“John, I was a fool. Yes, it’s true that Francesca doesn’t come from a wealthy, titled family. But in light of what has happened, that doesn’t matter a whit. It’s so obvious seeing you with her that you two love
each other. Belong together. And after meeting her, I think she would make a wonderful baroness.”
He gasped. “You mean…?”
“Marry her. Marry Francesca Hartwell. With my blessing.”
Epilogue
The last of the Tower’s visitors filtered out the main gate. Francesca frowned. She’d hoped to see John today, but he hadn’t shown up. Now it was too late. Oh, well, there was always tomorrow. At least they were free to pursue their relationship, with her father’s and his uncle’s blessing.
She was still amazed. Just when she’d thought her life, her dreams of ever being with the man she loved were over, she’d been reborn. Renewed. And suddenly, everything seemed within her grasp.
But she still wished John had been there that day. Once he’d recovered from his injuries, he’d not missed a day at the zoo. He’d even visited the smelly bear. Just on the outside of the cage this time.
Sighing, she put her fingers through the bars of Belle’s cage. The leopard stood and stretched, and then walked gracefully toward Francesca. The cubs scampered after their mom, nipping at her legs and at each other. Francesca laughed. “I guess I need to name your babies, don’t I? I can’t keep referring to them by numbers one, two, three, and four.”
Belle rubbed her nose and muzzle across Francesca’s hand. Francesca closed her eyes. She never, ever got tired of the cats’ fur on her skin. It would only be better if she could actually be inside the cage with them.
Something jingled behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. “Hello, Papa. Finishing up for the day?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “There’s just one more thing I need to do before we head home.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“This.” He stepped up beside her and inserted the key into the lock. Edging aside, he motioned with his hand. “Care to step in?”
She widened her eyes. “Me? Inside?”
He nodded.
“But you never wanted me to before. What if we get in trouble?”
“After what happened with you in the bear’s cage, and the fact that you didn’t want to press charges against anyone at the zoo, the Keeper seems quite willing to accept any requests from me. Especially ones concerning you. So, as long as it’s done discreetly, and after everyone else has left for the day, you may spend some time with the cats.”
“Oh, Papa!” She flung her arms around his neck. Pressing her cheek to his, she realized she hadn’t hugged him like that since she’d been a little girl. Since Mama had left them. Something damp touched her face. She pulled away. He was crying. “What’s wrong?”
He ran his finger down her cheek and cupped her chin. “Nothing, child. Absolutely nothing.” Kissing her forehead, he smiled and walked toward the main gate. He angled back toward her. “I’ll wait out here for you, on the bench. Take your time.”
Wiping tears from her face, she waved. “Thank you, Papa.”
She’d waited so long for this. Yes, she’d visited the cats at night in secret, but she’d always hated lying to her father.
But now… now she got to visit them. With his blessing. She turned the key and opened the door. Stepping in, she shut the door and went to Belle, crouching down to rub her face. Belle tilted her head and blinked. The cubs trotted toward Francesca, standing on tiny hind legs to paw at her dress.
She laughed. “Isn’t this wonderful, Belle? Can you believe I get to visit you? Every evening if I wish.” Reaching down her hand, she wiggled her fingers, and all four cubs sniffed her skin. Number four, the runt, gave her a lick with his tiny raspy tongue.
“That tickles, number four.” She bit her lip. “I do need to name you all. Come with me, over here, and let’s see what we can come up with.” Stepping to the far corner, Francesca grabbed the hem of her skirt as she sat on the ground. The cubs clambered up onto her lap. Belle plodded over, nuzzling Francesca’s face and hair, and then lay down a few feet away and watched the proceedings.
Francesca picked up cub number one. “Hmm. Let’s see. Since you’re a girl, we need a feminine name. How about Sheba? Do you like that?” The cub touched Francesca’s nose with a soft paw. “Sheba it is.”
Setting her down, Francesca picked up number two. ‘Well, you’re a boy, in case no one told you, so you need a manly name. With that strong jaw you’ve got, you need a strong name. How about Franklin?” The cat twitched his whiskers and blinked. Francesca gave him a hug and placed him on the floor.
She wiggled her fingers toward number three, who had wandered over to Belle for a tongue-bath. The cub waddled back over and climbed on Francesca’s lap. Petting her soft fur, Francesca sighed. “You are so sweet, so you need a sweet sounding name. I’ve always liked roses, so how about Rosie?” With a lick to Francesca’s hand, Rosie dove off of her lap and pounced on Franklin.
Francesca laughed, still hardly believing she was here. With the cats. In their cage. “One more to go. We need a name for number four, the little one.” Scooping him up in her arms, she nuzzled his head with her chin. “You’re a boy, too, but you’re the smallest. You need a name to grow into. Something strong. A name to be proud of. I love the name John, of course, and he’s the strongest, bravest man I know, but I doubt he would approve of—”
“Who says I wouldn’t approve?”
“John?” Setting down the cub, she stood and straightened her skirt. Hurrying toward the bars, she smiled. A great, big, happy smile that came from her toes all the way up to her lips. “How long have you been standing there, Mr. Fairgate, soon-to-be-a-baron?”
He grinned, a dimple forming on each cheek. Francesca’s heart nearly melted. “Long enough to hear you name the cubs. All except the last. If I approve, could the small one be named John?”
“Of course. I think he would be honored to share your name.”
“As would I.”
“So what are you doing here? I didn’t think I would see you today.”
“I had some things to take care of today. Important things.”
“I see.” More important that seeing me?
“They were of the… official capacity.
“Oh?”
“Let’s just say, it all had to do with my future.”
Francesca opened her mouth to ask another question. “But—”
John pointed behind him. “I saw your father outside. He told me you were in the cage with Belle. Because of the past rules of the Keeper, I didn’t quite believe him. But there you are. How does it feel?”
Was John trying to change the subject? She shrugged. “I can’t remember when I’ve ever been happier.”
“Simply because of the leopards?”
“No, silly. Also because of you. We’re all here together.”
He tapped the bars. “Not exactly together.”
“Oh, well, you’re right. Do you want me to come out?”
“No.”
“You don’t?”
“Could I… come in?”
“You mean you’d want to? After what happened with Belle?”
“I admit, it’s a bit daunting, what with frightening memories and all. But if Belle is willing to try again, so am I.”
Heart thudding against her ribs, Francesca unlatched the door, stood back, and waited. Would John be able to accomplish his goal? Would fear win, causing him to hurry from the cage once he was inside? Or would he, like her, come to relish time with the cats? Trusting them enough to pet them, touch their faces, allow them to rub cold noses and impossibly thin whiskers on his hands?
John reached out and grasped the door. It squeaked as he pushed it open, and he paused. Swallowing, he stepped in the cage and closed and latched the door.
“Oh, John, I’m so proud of you.” She grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze.
“I’m not finished yet.”
“There’s more?”
“Certainly. If you’ll show me what to do, I’d like to be re-introduced to Belle, in a good way this time. And meet her children.”
Tugg
ing on John’s hand, Francesca led him back to the corner where she’d sat to name the cubs. Sitting down, Francesca keep hold of his hand and tugged him down beside her. He removed his hat, placing it on his lap. “I can’t believe we get to be in here. With them.”
“It is quite amazing.”
Sheba ambled over toward John. Francesca took his hand and raised it toward the cub. Sheba sniffed his hand and fingers, then licked his thumb.
Francesca grinned. “What’s amazing is you.”
“Why would you find me amazing?”
“Because you’re here. Here. The place where something frightening happened not that long ago. But also, because you are…”
He tilted his head. “I am…?”
“You. Just being who you are is so very special to me, John Fairgate, soon-to-be-baron.”
Laughing, he touched her cheek. “Why do you keep saying my name like that, with the soon-to-be-baron attached at the end?”
She shrugged “I’m so proud of you.”
“How proud are you?”
“What do you mean?” She lowered her eyebrows.
“Remember that important, official business of earlier?” He glanced away, swallowed, and then glanced back. “Are you proud enough to be a baroness?”
She gasped. “Pardon? Are you asking…?”
“You to be my wife. Yes. So… will you?”
Feigning uncertainly, Francesca wrinkled her brow. “Hmm, well, I’m not sure.”
“Not sure? But—”
“Let’s get another opinion, shall we?”
“But we’re the only ones here.”
She nodded her head in Belle’s direction. “Not the only ones…”
“You’re going to ask the leopard whether you should marry me?” He drummed his fingers on his knee.
“If Belle approves, then I’ll marry you.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Let’s just see, shall we?” Holding out her hand, Francesca pointed toward Belle, and then moved her hand side to side. “Belle, dear, come and see us.”
The leopard walked over and sat down directly in front of John. He cleared his throat. Was he having trouble breathing? A thin layer of perspiration broke out on his forehead.
Romance at the Royal Menagerie Page 12