by Diana Lloyd
“Is it all settled? Will they let us stay?” Jewel jumped down from the carriage as he approached, her face a mask of concern. Her voice betrayed her growing nervousness. If she was having second thoughts, it was a bit late to turn back.
“They have a room for you and a pallet for Elvy. I’ll be staying in the carriage house.”
“That’s not right, we should all share the room.”
“Trust me when I tell you that I’ll be more comfortable away from so many strangers. I do not mind the carriage house, as I intend to spend a good portion of the night on some necessary correspondence. Elvy thinks to take a pallet on the kitchen floor but, if you trust her and she is to be your companion, it would not be amiss for you to offer her a place on your floor.”
“Oliver.” It was the first time she’d called him by his Christian name, the sound like music from her perfect lips. A sign of trust and camaraderie for certain. It didn’t make him any less the fool for wanting her to use his Christian name. He was a fool. A besotted schoolboy running headlong into almost certain disappointment. “I’m frightened.”
“Tell me what I might do to assure you. You have a companion now and witnesses that will say we did not spend the night in the same building. Tomorrow, all can be put back to the way it was. I’ll send you and Elvy along your way to Scotland, if that is your wish. You’ll arrive only a few days later than expected, and your uncle need be none the wiser.”
“You misunderstand. I’m afraid for my father.” Tears glistened in her eyes as she spoke. Oliver swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat. How much more frightened she would be if she knew he’d already been captured? It wasn’t the time to tell her. He’d write his fingers to the bone in an effort to procure Latham’s release. And he intended to start tonight.
“I’m sure he’s fine. Today is Thursday; tell me what he would normally be doing on a Thursday evening.”
“Oh.” She looked around, noting the late hour. “He’d be home now with a full belly after supper. He’d be sitting in his favorite chair near the fire with a candle and a good book.” The memory made her smile. “Sometimes he’d read aloud to me. Especially if it was an adventure story. Usually, though, he’d fall asleep with his spectacles sliding off his nose and his book on his lap.”
“There you have it. He is at home enjoying a good book.” The lie tasted bitter in his mouth but the truth would be poison. “Get a good night’s sleep, dear cousin.”
“Thank you. A good night to you as well.” Her smile returned. It was still tempered by concern, yet he’d collect it in his memory with all the others.
He stared at the door a long time after she disappeared into the house. No one had come out to greet him, but he’d seen their noses pressed against the glass as they peered out the windows. He was very much an outsider here, more so than a mushroom picker and a colonial maiden. Whatever tomorrow might bring for his traveling companions, he would be back to the relative safety of Winchcombe Abbey by the time the sun set on another day.
He led his horses to the back and began removing the rigging before a servant appeared with a supper tray. Both the food and the help were welcome, and the servant bid him to eat and took over stable duties. The carriage house was clean and modern, the bed fresh, and, to his great relief, the room included a small tabletop that could be used as a writing desk. No matter what choice Jewel should make, he would do what he could to secure her father’s release. The estate’s budget was tight, but if he could offer a bit of coin as bribe to keep her father fed and clothed during his imprisonment, it would be worth a month without fresh meat at the Abbey.
Supper consumed, Oliver removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Spreading out his supplies, he set about writing letters to anyone who might be able to help. The colonial ambassador, Mr. Franklin, had already departed England, but a letter appealing to his common sense and diplomacy wouldn’t be far behind him. Another letter, this one to attorney John Adams, might at the very least gain Jewel’s father a defense lawyer to petition on his behalf. After years inside Winchcombe Abbey, communicating by written word had become Oliver’s sole link to the outside world. He’d built friendships and gained trust page by page over the last ten years. Tonight, he would appeal to that hoard of goodwill by asking a favor.
As he completed each letter, it was signed and sanded and laid out upon the bed to dry. Sheets of paper covered the bed from headboard to footboard, forming a grid of appeals. He hadn’t enough wax to seal them all and it was too late to accost a servant to find him more. The last thing he wanted to do now was frighten some poor scullery maid snoozing away next to the hearth by showing his ugly face in the middle of the night. He’d seal them and send them on their way as soon as he returned to the Abbey tomorrow.
Rolling his shoulders to ease out the stiffness borne from hunching over a desk for hours, Oliver stood and stretched. It was late and he badly needed rest. Stacking the letters carefully, he folded his arms and lay his head down upon them. An hour’s rest, he promised himself, and then a few more letters.
…
“I really don’t mind taking up a pallet in the kitchen.” Elvy laid out the clean flannels, washing bowl, and pitcher of water she’d collected from downstairs.
“I couldn’t let you do that. I saw you trade your basket—this room rightfully belongs to you.” Pouring a splash of water into the bowl, Jewel washed the travel dust off her face and hands.
“His lordship passed enough coin to pay twice over and yet he’s put up in the barn. Sometimes life ain’t precisely equitable. Besides, I’ve slept rough so often I’m not sure I could rest easy in a bed no more. I’d appreciate setting my pallet up on the rug by your hearth here. I don’t snore, far as I knows, and I’d rather be out of the way of the kitchen staff.”
“Of course, we must share the room.” Jewel pulled a counterpane from the bed. “Take this, too.”
“You’re too kind, miss. Where was it you were from?” Elvy folded the counterpane into a pallet and sat down cross-legged in front of the fire. “You don’t talk like any lady from around here.”
“I was born in Boston. That’s in the Massachusetts colony. My father was born in Hereford, but he left as a young man to tend to his father’s land in the Americas. My mother was from Lincolnshire somewhere, I’m not too sure. She died when I was young.”
“Sorry to hear that, I am.” Elvy pulled a comb out of one of her pockets and began working her way through the snarls in her hair.
“I’m in England visiting family—my father’s sister and her husband and my cousins Udele and Edwina.”
“And his lordship? Your cousin, Lord Winchcombe?” To hear someone innocent of all the controversy repeat the lie she concocted made Julianna cringe. Getting off that coach had given her a chance for a new beginning and, hopefully, a brighter end. From now on, she was Jewel Latham, a simple Bostonian woman who wanted nothing more than to return home.
“Oliver isn’t… I mean, Lord Winchcombe isn’t precisely my cousin.” The decision to not continue the lie with Elvy had not been an easy one. It was a necessary artifice, but Jewel knew herself well enough to know she was not a good liar. Her mouth could speak the words, but her face failed to promote it. She needed a confidant, and Elvy would have to do. “That’s why I needed a companion. We are attempting to keep my reputation intact until…”
“Until what?” Elvy rose to her feet. “I’m good at listening and I tell my troubles only to the trees because they don’t spread tales.”
“I’m in a bit of trouble.” Jewel sat and patted the blanket, inviting Elvy to take a place beside her. It felt like ages since she’d had a friend to talk to, and the words were just waiting to flood out like a burst levee. “Do you know anything of the talk of war?”
“Started a war, did ye?” She laughed out loud at her own joke. “I heard about it,” Elvy continued. “I sometimes wonder where my
brother Rob might be in all of it.”
“I hope he is somewhere safe. I hope my father is safe as well. He knew the war was coming. I was so blindly stupid with my own problems I imagined my journey to England was a holiday. I know now that my father sent me away so I’d be far from the war. I feel so foolish.”
“The only sort of problem that could get a nice girl like you into such a muddle would be a man.” It was as if her sins were written across her forehead for all to see. Jewel had no excuse for her behavior—looking back was like watching someone else’s life being acted out in a bad play. For the sake of honesty in this her new life, she owed Elvy an explanation.
“Eldridge and I were supposed to be married. I thought he loved me but that was blind stupidity, too. Now I’m stuck here because of the war and my aunt and uncle are trying to send me up to Scotland to hide me out of the way. I did Lord Winchcombe a favor a few days ago, and he’s repaying the kindness by letting me stay with him until I can find a way back to my father.”
“There’s no passenger transport to the colonies, miss, only troops and gunpowder now. A journey such as that would cost you dear.”
“My father sent funds.” Jewel pulled her uncle’s letters from her bag and held them in her lap. “My uncle is in control of them, though. He wrote these letters of introduction, but I wasn’t allowed to read them first, so I don’t know how my funds are to be disbursed.”
“It’s a worrisome thing for a woman to know she ain’t in control of her own future. I’ve been there, so I know. Walking out to the woods with all I owned on my back was the best thing I ever done for myself. I don’t regret it a bit. If ye knew what you had and how to get ahold of it, I expect you’d sleep much better tonight.”
“I’m afraid to break the seals.” Jewel ran her fingers over the lumps of dried sealing wax. “I may yet have to run back to my aunt and uncle and beg their hospitality. I don’t dare impose on Lord Winchcombe for too long, and I have no idea how long it will take to hear back from my father or for the war to end. I’m helpless in this.”
“Ye mean them wee wax seals are keeping you from knowing what’s what?”
Jewel stared down at the seals. An inch-round glob of wax with an imprint pressed into it was keeping her from her future. She hadn’t thought of it in those simple terms before. She smoothed her hand along the edge of the paper, running her fingers over the ridges on the wax seal. Her aunt and uncle were already angry with her, how much more scorn could they heap upon her if one of the seals should accidently break?
“Oops.” She lifted the edge of the paper and the seal broke with an audible snap. “No turning back now,” she said. Nervously smiling at her companion, Jewel unfolded the letter and rose to take it closer to the candle so she could read it. “Oh dear.”
“Bad news?” Elvy moved the candle to the dressing table and bid Jewel to have a seat.
“No.” Jewel sat down, spread the letter flat and sighed. Her uncle had said they were letters of introduction and this one was exactly that. Addressed to his estate manager, it was nothing more than a letter announcing her arrival and subsequent occupation at the estate in John O’Groats. She was to be fed and housed appropriately until further instruction. “This one is disappointing.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got two more.” Elvy slid the last two letters across the tabletop.
“Rather hard to claim they all opened accidentally. I break those seals and there’s no avoiding the consequences should I have to return to my uncle’s house.” Jewel was close to not caring. Until assured of her father’s wellbeing, any punishment her uncle could concoct would be a trifle.
“Let me run and fetch another candle and a cork and we can match those seals once you’re all done reading.” Elvy nodded as she spoke, making it clear she had a plan. Deciding to trust her new friend, Jewel cracked open the second seal and unfolded the next letter on top of the first.
“This is a letter to one of uncle’s neighbors, a Mr. Sinclair. It says…” Jewel’s voice failed her as she read the next line of the letter. “It says that he should…if he finds me acceptable…marry me as repayment of favor owed.” Turning her face away from the letter, she drew a shaky breath. Her existence was reduced to a betting token. Blinking away tears until she was able to again focus on the words on the page, she continued reading.
“It mentions a dowry, but not how much. It just says something about one jewel to replace another. That’s odd—no one in my uncle’s house ever used my pet name. If they spoke to me at all, they used my proper name. This Sinclair was to contact my uncle’s solicitor in Inverness if he found the arrangement satisfactory. But, sadly, the name of the solicitor isn’t provided. I’m guessing that’s what’s in the third letter. Best fetch what we’re going to need to seal these back up, Elvy.”
Marry her? The nerve. Surely her father hadn’t meant for her to be bartered off by his sister’s husband. Unless. No.
Father would not have told them. He wouldn’t have told anyone she and Eldridge had anticipated their wedding vows. The wedding vows he would now take with another woman. Anger, only recently tempered, flared anew in her belly.
He’d promised, he’d cajoled, he’d spoken sweet words of love, and once he’d gotten what he’d wanted, Eldridge had drifted away. She’d been such a fool. Even then, looking at everything through eyes blinded by love, she should have noticed the loyalists leaving the city in droves. Should have taken stock of empty streets and houses. Funny, in a sad way, how even false love could change the way a person looked at things. She’d know better next time.
For weeks after her slipup with Eldridge she’d cried every night and worried that his false love had started a new life within her. Relief was a double-edged sword. She would not have a bastard child to raise, but she was no longer a maiden. She’d walked in a fog, a no-man’s-land of unwed yet unchaste. With a big enough dowry, no man would care. Much. With no dowry, she was on her own. Elvy’s lifestyle might be her most attractive option.
Jewel opened the third letter and read. This one was to a friend of her uncle’s named Sinclair, and at first glance appeared to have nothing to do with her at all. Bitter disappointment stung at her eyes, threatening tears. Nothing was to be made simple for her. Blinking away the tears, she continued reading. Vague and oddly worded, her uncle’s writing spoke of a misplaced item that would soon be back where it belonged. Curiously, there was also a reference to an anticipated windfall of cash and property. But she was never mentioned.
Pushing the letters aside, Jewel folded her arms on the desktop and rested her forehead down upon her sleeve. Frustration and exhaustion took their toll. She’d had such high hopes, yet the letters added only more intrigue. The longer she was in England, the more she needed a man’s protection. Both Oliver and her uncle had it right. If she stayed she would have to get married.
“Aye, now. I’ve got just what a girl needs for a little cheer.” Elvy entered the room holding a corked bottle half full of wine. “I hates to see you sad, miss. Everything works out in the end. It’s just not the end yet.” She bit out the cork and offered the bottle to Jewel.
“Why not?” Jewel took a healthy swig and then sputtered. “The letters were next to useless, I’m afraid,” she choked out. “I’m not sure if I should seal them back up or just throw them in the fire and be done with it. I can always tell my uncle I lost them.”
“Don’t waste good paper.” Elvy shook her head and reached for the bottle. “We seal them back up and you can put them somewhere safe. Never know if they might come in handy.” She took a long draw from the bottle and passed it back.
“Thank you.” Jewel took another swig of wine. “I don’t even know what my uncle’s seal is.” She picked at the glob of wax and held it closer to the flame. “Would you say this was a hawk or a boar’s head?”
“Doesn’t much matter, we need only to be close.” Elvy picked up t
he broken bits of wax and fit them back together like pieces of a puzzle. Practicing with the candlewax, she whittled away the tip of the cork until the impression closely matched that of Jewel’s uncle’s crest. “We use this stamp with the same color sealing wax and pray no one looks too closely.”
“Good enough.” Jewel gathered up the bits of sealing wax and melted them back down with the candle. Together, she and Elvy poured it, stamped it, and drank more wine while they waited for it to cool again. “This looks pretty good to me. I think this might work.”
“Always best to keep positive thoughts.” Elvy shrugged and passed back the bottle. “Let that wax cure overnight and pack them back up in the morning. Take them wherever it is you plan to go.”
“I’m going with Lord Winchcombe. It feels like the right thing to do.” With the decision made and spoken aloud, the weight of indecision lifted from her shoulders, and she was suddenly tired. Of course, it might be the wine. Either way, she intended to get a better night’s sleep than she’d had in a week. “Good night, Elvy, and thank you again.”
“Thank you, miss. ’Tis a good thing to have occupation again.”
Chapter Five
Throwing back the covers, Jewel forced herself to sit up. It was a comfortable bed and she’d slept deeply, but the soft glow of morning seeping in through the window could no longer be ignored. With a yawn and a stretch, she padded over to the washbasin. The space on the rug in front of the fireplace was empty, the counterpane folded and laid over the back of a chair.
Apart from the fresh water in the pitcher, still warm, there was no sign of Elvy. She’s gone. Jewel went through the motions of her morning ablutions, the rote movements chasing away the creeping loneliness that threatened in the unfamiliar room. Once again, she hadn’t seen the abandonment coming. At least her letters were still there. For the short while it lasted, it had felt good to have a friend.