by Abigail Agar
Lady Shelton smiled. “He does, and I love him, but he is a businessman through and through. I fear that since Henry’s transformation that he has become increasingly like his father, Gwyn. He spends so much time in London that a mother fears she will forget her own son’s face.”
“Is it not good for a young man to work hard to prepare for his future?” Gwyn’s mother asked with amusement.
Lady Shelton seemed to consider this before she shrugged her shoulders lightly. “Perhaps. However, should he not also put that same energy into other parts of his life? I fear the boy will end up married to his work and nothing else.”
“I do not mind Henry working,” Gwyn assured Lady Shelton and her mother who had turned to look at her.
Gwyn’s mother smiled. “You say that now. I remember being married and rarely seeing Ian during our early years. He stayed abroad so much that I feared he would forget where he lived.”
“He would never,” Gwyn chided with a grin.
Lady Shelton agreed, “Ian always was rather taken with Clarisse. I dare say that he would find her no matter where she is.”
“What I mean,” Gwyn’s mother clarified, “Is that it can feel very lonely while a husband is preoccupied with business. I think Gwyn should be prepared for that.”
Gwyn said, “I will prepare myself for it. I guess my mind is more occupied with the obstacles that stand in the way of ever actually getting married.”
The older ladies nodded and lapsed into silence as if they too were preoccupied with thoughts of Jack and Henry’s feuding. At length, Lady Shelton cleared her throat and said, “I suppose we shall just have to hope that Jack’s move to stay in London is a good sign. After all, it will at least give you and Henry some time to sort through things on the marriage front.”
“Yes,” Gwyn said softly. There was a twinge of something in her stomach that felt cold and heavy. Marriage was destined to be part of the evening’s topics, but the more they spoke of it, the more Gwyn felt sick. Her stomach clenched, and her mind raced. Gwyn shook her head. “I think I am not feeling very well.”
Gwyn’s mother gave Gwyn a look of concern. “What is the matter, dear?”
“My stomach hurts greatly,” Gwyn said honestly as she wrapped her arms around her midsection.
Lady Shelton raised her eyebrows. “Have you come upon that time of the month?”
“No,” Gwyn assured the woman. “It is not my womanly pains, I think it is stress. I shall be fine.”
Gwyn’s mother sighed, “It is all this nonsense with the marriage and the fighting. It will have her a wreck of nerves.”
“Do you feel as if you need to retire for the evening?” Lady Shelton asked kindly.
Gwyn shook her head. Even if everything in her screamed that she really did want to leave, Gwyn said, “I am fine. I just felt a bit ill for a moment. Besides, I really do want to see Henry.”
“And I am sure he is looking forward to seeing you,” Lady Shelton said with what sounded like relief.
Gwyn gave the woman a smile before she looked over at her mother. Her mother was studying Gwyn, and Gwyn looked away from her intuitive gaze. Gwyn had nothing much to hide, but her mother always had a way of seeing what even Gwyn did not, and Gwyn had no time for such revelations right now.
Lady Shelton drew Gwyn’s attention again as she said, “It seems quite odd to me that you are not here sometimes. I had fully planned on having a daughter-in-law by now.”
“Yes,” Gwyn said with a frown. “There are moments that I forget that if things had not gone so awry that I would be married now. It feels a million miles away at times.”
Lady Shelton smiled. “Probably like a dream before this whole nightmare.”
“Well, these things will pass, and then we shall truly be family,” Lady Stanton said to her friend.
Lady Shelton nodded and agreed, “Yes. I feel it has been a very long road.”
“I have to agree with that,” Gwyn said with a soft laugh which the other two ladies joined her in.
***
The dining hall in Shelton Hall was filled with a large dark mahogany table that Gwyn remembered most fondly from playing under its table legs as a child. They all sat around the table which could have easily fit at least ten more people but was cozy enough with them all sitting near one end. Lord Shelton’s booming voice echoed around the chamber as he told his wife of his work which Gwyn mostly did not pay attention to.
Henry’s spot beside Gwyn was empty. The man’s absence made Gwyn’s mind go back to the conversation with her mother and Lady Shelton about the loneliness of being a businessman’s wife, let alone the wife of a Duke who was constantly pulled to one duty or another. Gwyn frowned down at her roast and potatoes.
“Are you feeling ill again, dear?” Gwyn’s mother asked.
Gwyn’s eyes shot up to her mother’s face as she put a smile back firmly on her face. “No,” Gwyn assured her mother and the others. “I was just feeling a bit lonely.”
“I am sure that Henry will be along soon. Time probably just got away from him,” Lady Shelton said as she picked up her wine glass.
Lord Shelton nodded. “Indeed,” he boomed with laughter. “I have gotten swept up in the deal far too often for my Lydia’s liking. She usually sets me straight when I get home, though. You should be able to sort Henry out swiftly enough, I think.”
Lady Shelton and Gwyn’s mother shared a look and then laughed. Gwyn was not exactly sure how to respond to that, so she just nodded and took a sip from her wine glass. It was going to be a very long meal if Henry did not show up soon, Gwyn thought.
Luckily for Gwyn, not much further into the meal, Henry came in confessing apologies for his sins. “I am so sorry to keep you all waiting,” he said as he sat down next to Gwyn. “I am glad to see that I did not hold up the meal at least.” Henry gave a cheerful laugh as a serving girl brought a plate and set it in front of him.
Lord Shelton scolded, “I would not starve my guests on account of my errant son. What kept you this evening?”
“I was going over the shipping manifests, and well, Reginald likes to talk,” Henry said with a grin. He looked over at Gwyn and gave her a wink which merely made Gwyn shake her head.
Lord Shelton chuckled. “Yes. Keeping Reginald on task is hard. I can only imagine how quickly the two of you could get sidetracked.”
“Now, darling, Henry has been trying very hard,” Lady Shelton said as she gave Henry a smile.
Henry said, “Yes, Father, I have been trying to do what I should. Surely that counts for something?”
“Yes,” Lord Shelton said, and Gwyn looked between the two men curiously. Lord Shelton continued, “I suppose I do not give you enough credit for the distance that you have come in such a short time, Henry. Yet, you do have to admit that you have given me plenty to worry about over the years.”
Henry nodded slowly. “I cannot deny that I have been a bit of a scamp at times.”
“Not as much as some others,” Gwyn noted.
Henry looked over at her and gave her a smile. “See, surely there is a place in Heaven for me if Gwyn can see my virtue.”
“I would not go that far,” Gwyn said wryly which caused Lord Shelton’s laughter to echo around the dining room again. Gwyn put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing along with the man at the look on Henry’s face.
Lady Shelton sipped her wine and shook her head at them all. “Clarisse, I do think that we have corrupted your daughter,” she said apologetically.
“On the contrary, Gwyneth has always been that way,” Gwyn’s mother said with a smile to Lady Shelton. “I think she gets it from her father.”
Lord Shelton said, “Shame Ian could not come tonight. We really must have dinner with him sometime. I do miss his company.”
Gwyn saw a flicker of sadness go over her mother’s face before the woman put on a smile. “Yes,” Gwyn’s mother said softly. “I think Ian would like that.”
Henry cleared his thro
at causing Gwyn to look around at him. He gave her a smile. “I know that my brother has caused quite a ruckus and derailed our plans. I was hoping that since he has decided to stay away, at least for the time, that we might move forward.”
“I am not sure I understand,” Gwyn said hesitantly.
The others seemed quiet, and Gwyn was sure they were all paying rapt attention to Henry and herself which made her all the more nervous for what the man might say. Henry said calmly, “I just thought that perhaps we could talk about scheduling the church again. We have already talked to them and smoothed things over. They are quite willing to let us hold the ceremony there still.”
“I recall quite vividly going to see the minister,” Gwyn reminded Henry. “I cannot say that I have ever been as embarrassed as I was then. That being said, I really do not feel like I can go through that again, not right now anyway.”
Henry’s brow furrowed. “I do not think that Jack will interfere a second time,” he said.
“Think, being the important term there,” Gwyn said with a shake of her head. “No, I know that Jack is not as settled as you all make him out to be. I am glad that he has taken the step to go into town, but I know what he told me, and I know too that he is not going to let things go. I just cannot go through that again.”
Lady Shelton intervened before Henry could respond, “The young lady is right. We should settle all of this dramatic nonsense between you and your brother before we think of weddings. There are things more important right now, Henry. Your brother has made accusations that must be answered, and so have you.”
Henry looked entirely displeased, and Gwyn cringed inwardly. She had not intended to make the man so angry, but she really did not see the point in going forward with marriage when it would be fraught with nothing but needless drama until this was all done with. Gwyn gave Lady Shelton a look of gratitude that the woman answered with a small smile.
Lord Shelton said, “Yes, well, now that that is out of the way.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Gwyn’s mother ventured, “what accusations has Jack made? I have heard nothing much about it. I fail to see how he could defend against his own words.”
Henry scoffed, “He is claiming someone tampered with his journal.”
“Yes,” Lady Shelton confirmed. “He claims that some of the handwriting is not his own. We have not yet reached any conclusions about it.”
Henry put in, “If, and I give no credence to it, but if he is telling any of the truth, then I think the culprit is most likely to be that sergeant fellow.”
“But you were the one that gave him the journal. Those things were in it when you gave it to him?” Gwyn gave Henry a confused look.
Henry looked sheepish. “To be truthful, I do not know about all of it. I read enough of it that I thought the man probably needed to see it.”
“You said you read it,” Gwyn said with a shake of her head.
Lady Shelton said, “Henry’s emotions often get the better of him. He just reacted out of instinct.”
“It matters not,” Gwyn said. “There is no way that Sergeant Chavers knew those things. He could not have done it.”
Henry frowned. “That is true.”
“I know that you wish to purge your brother of this so that you can believe he is the same old Jack you have always known,” Gwyn said sympathetically to Henry. “But there is no way that Sergeant Chavers could be your culprit. The only person who would have known those things would be Jack.”
Henry sighed heavily. He reached his hand out to Gwyn and grasped her hand which lay on the table top. He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I could have known them. He has already told Mother and Father that I did it. That this is all my doing.”
“And yet he is in London, and we are all still here. We are not going to all turn on you at simply a word from your brother,” Gwyn assured the man. “Now let us eat.”
“Gwyn is absolutely right,” Lady Stanton said with a nod.
Henry let go of Gwyn’s hand with a grateful smile. Every one set about eating and talking quietly upon a variety of things. Gwyn felt the tension die down that had risen up when Henry had been speaking about Jack. She smiled with a bit of pride that she had helped to ease everyone’s minds a bit.
Her own mind was still considering what Henry had said. There was indeed no way that Sergeant Chavers could have known about certain things in the book. Gwyn had to admit though that the man could have altered other parts of the book. He might not have written the worst of it, but there were parts of the book that sounded nothing like Jack. Could those have been written by Sergeant Chavers?
As the meal began to wind down, Gwyn offered to help out only to have Lady Shelton shake her head. “We would not hear of it,” she said as if offended. “Now go and have a nice after-dinner walk with Henry. One of the staff will accompany you.”
***
Gwyn glanced over her shoulder at the man that Lord Shelton had summoned to accompany herself and Henry around the garden. The man kept a respectful distance to give them the illusion of privacy while being close enough to keep them in line, so to speak. Henry seemed oblivious to the man following them, but Gwyn never could be fully comfortable with chaperones around. She supposed that made her a peculiarity among women who probably felt more comfortable with a chaperone.
“It is a lovely night,” Henry noted as he looked up at the clear sky.
Gwyn nodded and tugged her shawl around her shoulders. “Bit chilly too,” she commented. “I dare say that we shall have a frost before long.”
“The fields always do look enchanting with a layer of frost,” Henry said. “I am surprised you do not look happier at the thought. Were you not the one who always waxed on poetically about the cooler months of the year?”
Gwyn sighed. Perhaps once she had. “I suppose, I just do not feel very enthusiastic about anything lately.”
“That is a foul thing,” Henry said with a frown. “I fear I have a hand of guilt in that.”
Gwyn assured the man, “It is not your fault that I have a horrible habit of not being able to be truly happy unless everyone else is.”
“You must be miserable most of the time then,” Henry said lightly.
Gwyn patted the man’s arm affectionately but agreed, “There is a bit of truth in that.”
“A bit?” Henry prodded.
With a laugh, Gwyn admitted, “More than just a bit. If I am really truthful, then I would say there is probably a boat’s worth.”
“A rowboat or a merchant ship worth?” Henry asked with an amused grin.
Gwyn shook her head and said, “A pirate’s ship worth.”
“Ah, saddened for old sea comrades?” Henry asked astutely.
Gwyn nodded and looked at Henry. “Do you not miss the brother that you thought you knew?” When Henry finally nodded, Gwyn continued, “I miss the friend that I thought I knew too. The idea that Sergeant Chavers could have had a hand in the book gave me a bit of hope that perhaps there was still that man I knew, but even if he did tamper with it … Jack is the only one who knew about that night before I went to India. I cannot deny that, and to face it means that I never knew him.”
“I understand,” Henry said quietly. “I am so sorry, Gwyn.”
There was nothing for Henry to feel sorry for, and Gwyn said, “No. I should thank you. You should not apologize. You saved me from a life of living a lie. The Jack I knew was never real, Henry.”