by Diana Lloyd
“Maybe a ferret or two. I’ve always wanted one. They’re so funny.”
“They’s fancy rats, they is.”
“I can picture it now,” Jewel said, already teased out of her blue mood. “A white cottage with red curtains. I’ll have a cow, chickens and pigs, three dogs, and two fat house cats.” The thought made her smile. “I’ll walk to the sea every day and stare out into the horizon, as if I’m waiting for someone. The neighbors will all gossip about me.”
“A lofty goal if I ever heard one,” Elvy said just before they burst into laughter. “Why is it your goal to be gossiped about?”
“It’s the opposite of being ignored, isn’t it?” I might be abandoned, Jewel thought, but I refuse to be ignored. “What’s your dream? You’re welcome to stay on with me at my cottage. As a friend, not a maid.”
“As tempting as that is, I’ve a mind to open my own tailor shop somewhere. Not London—someplace small in a little place of my own. I’ll make such beautiful waistcoats that men will come from all ’round for my handiwork. And ladies’ dresses, too—everything from workaday to ball gowns. Maybe I’ll even take on someone to teach my sewing to. You know, since I don’t have any daughters.”
“You can teach me.” Elvy’s dream was lofty and yet so in keeping with her nature. The world did not allow for the dreams of women without fortune. When the time came, she would gift Elvy enough money to have a go at her dream. After all they’d been through, maybe they’d both find their happiness.
“I’ve seen your needlework.” Elvy threw back her head and laughed. “Let’s just say, it’s a good thing your mother left you some coin.”
“I find it tedious, that’s all.” Jewel had to join in the laughter. It was no secret that Oliver walked in and out of her thoughts, making it difficult to concentrate on the mundane aspects of everyday life like needlework. Rather than their final farewell, her mind chose to dwell on the tenderness and happiness they’d shared. It would be easier if she could think of him as someone she was well rid of. Cruel as he’d been at the last, she still worried over his ultimate fate.
“Let’s get you prettied up for dinner. I’ll curl your hair with some tongs, and no one will be ignoring you tonight.” Elvy walked with her up to her room where a tub of steaming water was waiting for her.
After her bath, Elvy teased and fussed Jewel’s still short hair into tiny curls that caressed her face and neck. An ivory comb, a gift from Aunt Bettina, held everything in place. Hair declared perfection, Jewel pulled on a fresh chemise and started dressing. She’d lost weight with her worry over the past few weeks and, when she looked in the mirror, Jewel was surprised at her own reflection.
“It’s…scandalous.” Jewel stepped back and stood sideways to check that reflection, too. The dress was beautiful in its simplicity, as pink as a baby’s cheek, and suggestive in both cut and fit. With no panniers or farthingale, there was nothing to hide her natural curves other than a modest bum roll. The petticoat, a fine white silk, shot with silver threads woven into vertical stripes, was cut short enough that the matching silver slippers would peek out with every step. The pink overdress bore no decoration other than lace elbow-length sleeves, but the stomacher was a wonder of lace woven from metallic silver threads covering the pink silk.
“Did you mention to your auntie that you wanted to be gossip fodder?”
“No,” Jewel replied, twirling in front of the mirror again and trying to push her breasts down behind the fabric. “I shouldn’t wear this. It’s not enough and too much at the same time.” Back in Boston she never would have dared, but here, after all she’d been through, it was a little tempting.
“Take another look in that mirror. You’re beautiful. Looking good is always the best revenge.”
“I’m not out for revenge.” Mind made up, Jewel smoothed down the skirt and stepped away from the mirror. She didn’t need Oliver or her grandfather. She didn’t need any man. “I’m an independently wealthy woman. I can wear whatever I want. Can’t I?”
“Yes, you can,” Elvy replied, handing her a pair of diamond earbobs. “Put these in and get yourself downstairs. You done stared at yourself so long you’re going to be late.”
Walking down the stairs in another pair of borrowed shoes, although these fit better than the last, Jewel couldn’t help but compare this evening with her first disastrous foray into Society. She was still far from home and still worried about her father, but there was no one to rescue this evening but herself.
“Oh, look at you!” Aunt Bettina rushed across the room and grabbed her hands. “I knew that color would suit, and that maid of yours has performed magic with your hair. You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you, Auntie” As her face warmed with a blush, Jewel kissed her aunt’s cheek. “You’ve done so much for me.”
“You look just like your mother,” Aunt Bettina said with a little frown. “I cried for a week when she left for the colonies, knowing I’d never see her again. And now, here I am, about to introduce her daughter to all the family and neighbors, too. It’s like a miracle.”
“I remember her mentioning you. Did you write?” If she had, it was a secret her mother kept to herself and took to the grave.
“I tried,” Bettina replied. “But Uncle was so angry when she left, it took me ages to figure out he’d had the servants burn all correspondence to her. After that, I don’t know, I just stopped trying.”
“Why did he hate my father so much?” Jewel wasn’t sure she was ready for the answer, but she wanted to hear it anyway.
“He was brash, strong-willed, and passionate about so many causes. Once he started with something, he’d not give it up. Of course, I was younger than your mother, but to me, sometimes, it was almost frightening. Your father was a mere mister trying to court a lady, Uncle thought he should be more circumspect.”
“I have no interest in meeting someone so rigid and harsh with his judgments. I’ll disappoint him simply by existing.”
“Age softens more than old men’s willies.” They both burst into giggles at that, and Aunt Bettina looked around before she continued. “Making your mother feel unwelcome is your grandfather’s great regret. I didn’t realize that until many years after he took me in after my own parents’ untimely demise. He’s older now, old enough to consider his own death and judgment day. Your presence grants him the atonement he seeks.”
“My mother died a long time ago, but more than anything, I remember her being happy. She made the right choice for herself and followed her heart, even if she traded it for a short life. I’m not a bargaining chip or a ticket to heaven, but I’d like to think I can forgive when it is warranted.”
“That’s good to hear.” Oliver’s familiar voice rang out from behind her. “I beg your forgiveness. Ladies, I heard your voices from the parlor and thought it best to reveal my presence.”
She’d imagined his face a thousand times since they parted, but his unexpected presence was too much to comprehend in person, so Jewel looked down at her hands instead. Was he really here, standing in front of her in well-tailored black superfine, crisp white linen, and a ruby red silk waistcoat? She knew exactly how it would feel to touch him, knew the scent of his soap and what it was like to tuck herself into his arms. But she couldn’t move.
“You must be here for the party. Do forgive me, but I don’t recall your name. My uncle must have invited you. Have you been shown to a room?”
“Not yet. With your indulgence, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Winchcombe.” Bowing elegantly, Oliver openly stared at Jewel and held his gaze there long enough to be considered rude.
“Of course,” Aunt Bettina gushed as she sank into a curtsy. “Your note was so kind and did much to put our minds at ease.”
“I was wondering if I might have a word with Miss Latham regarding her funds,” Oliver asked, seeming to draw a breath and hold it as he awaited the reply.
&nbs
p; “Well,” Aunt Bettina said, looking back and forth between her and Oliver. “I suppose, as long as Miss Latham agrees.” Oliver and her aunt both looked to her for approval.
“Of course.” She hadn’t meant to agree; the words were formed involuntarily out of courtesy and a curious desire to hear what he had to say for himself after their last conversation. “If you’ll follow me to the morning room, Lord Winchcombe, I believe I have fifteen minutes to spare.” When she turned and walked away, he followed. The short journey down the hallway gave her time to think of what she should say to the man who’d broken her heart.
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” Oliver said as soon as they reached the small room. “You owe me nothing, and I don’t deserve another chance. The fact that we’re standing here together is a glimmer of hope that I might undo the damage that I wrought.”
“Why would you wish to do that? You made yourself quite clear, Lord Winchcombe. I harbor no ill will toward you. Feel free to go about your life as if we’d never met.” She was right to be cross with him, but her words sounded harsh even to her ears.
“I wrote you every day,” he said, walking to the window and pushing the curtains aside to gaze at the setting sun. “But after what I said to you at the hearing, none of my words did my true thoughts justice.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I decided to deliver my latest letter in person and beg your indulgence in being allowed to read it out loud so you may know of my feelings behind the words.”
“I wrote you as well,” she admitted. “I didn’t post my letter. I couldn’t get the words exactly right and feared they’d be misunderstood.” This morning room, like the one at Winchcombe Abbey, was her favorite in her grandfather’s house. Walking to the writing desk, she opened the drawer and pulled out her half-written letter. “You read yours first and then, perhaps, I’ll read mine.”
“My precious Jewel.” Oliver cleared his throat and began reading. “This fool begs your forgiveness. I doubted both love and fidelity in a moment of weakness. Mistaking sacrifice for bravery, I banished you from my life and have existed as a miserable worm for this error. You are not only a woman of great beauty, you are kind, intelligent, and brave. You hold my heart in your hands. I can only hope that above all else you are also forgiving.”
“Stop there.” Jewel unfolded her letter and began to read. “My dearest Lord Winchcombe, just because I know why you uttered such hateful, hurtful words, I am not obliged to forgive them.”
“I have more,” said Oliver after she paused. When she nodded her head, he began reading again. “Jewel, my darling, you brought happiness and magic into a sorry life that had seen so little of either.”
Jewel continued, “I was not obligated to send the note at the Dunwoody’s ball, and yet I did of my own free will. I was not obligated to abandon the coach to Scotland, pretend to be your fiancée, rescue you from Eldridge, or stand by your side at the hearing. Those things were done from a place in my heart. It is that same place that provides forgiveness when due.” She read the lines while blinking tears from her eyes. He’d taken her greatest fear and shame and thrown them in her face. Would he do it again?
“I’ve only a little bit more.” Swallowing hard, Oliver turned back to the letter in his hands. “This lowly, undeserving beast asks for your grace and redemption one last time. In exchange, I promise to love and cherish you for the rest of my life. Miss Julianna Latham, my most precious Jewel, I beg you to be my wife.” Sliding down to one knee, Oliver bowed his head, as if afraid to witness her indecision.
“Oliver,” Jewel said, taking a step closer and raising his chin to look him in the eye. “Let there be no more harsh words between us. Neither of us is innocent nor blameless. We both failed to trust when we should have. We failed each other.”
“Jewel, please.” Oliver squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “If you think to make me beg as atonement, I will do so without regret.”
“I don’t need you to beg.” Reaching out, she ran her fingers through his hair and then used a fingertip to trace his scar. “As one beast to another, I love you.”
“Is that a yes?” Oliver wiped his eyes and smiled crookedly.
“Definitely,” she replied, trying to pull him to his feet. She could no longer imagine her life without him. No matter how hard she’d tried to erase him from her mind, he was always in her dream cottage.
“My darling,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Come back with me to Winchcombe Abbey. We’ll stop by Doctor’s Commons for a special license. We can go to Vauxhall or the theater. Anywhere you want.”
“Was the complaint against you dismissed?” Something had taken the worry from his brow. She could only hope his ordeal was over.
“Fully.” He kissed the top of her head. “There will be no record of the matter. My name is free and clear of all charges and accusations. I traded Dunwoody the diamond for the fake deed.”
“That was generous of you. It was a worthless piece of artifice.”
“I got a little something more than just the deed. I’ll show you when we get to London. It’s a surprise,” he said, kissing her again. “Let’s announce our happy news to your grandfather before supper.”
“Other than a thank-you for his hospitality in allowing me to stay here, I’ve nothing much to say to him. He never once wrote my mother, and she died thinking he didn’t care.” It wasn’t her grandfather who’d welcomed her to Grass Hall, it was her Aunt Bettina. Her grandfather had quietly slipped into the house only this morning and hadn’t even asked to meet her.
“Jewel, darling, we both need to let go of the past. Free of your uncle’s machinations, I’ve made peace with my father’s choices. He’ll haunt me no more. It’s time to forgive your grandfather for his sins. He can’t hurt us. Let us not carry old hurts and resentment into our new life together.”
“Why are you suddenly so sensible?” She had no argument against his words, but she’d resented her grandfather for so long that letting the feeling go was like losing an ill-tempered old friend. But she would leave this place with her head held high and no regrets. Maybe Aunt Bettina and Oliver were right, and the old man had mellowed with age.
“Your Grace,” Oliver called out as he knocked on the door to her grandfather’s study. Aunt Bettina assured them he’d be thrilled to speak with them before supper. Hand in hand, they waited to be summoned within.
“Come,” a rusty voice replied. The Duke of Grasswick must have been a handsome man in his youth, but age had rounded his shoulders and gnarled his hands into claws. “Sit down, I don’t mean to be shouting at you across the room.”
“Yes, Grandfather.” She stole a look at Oliver, and they silently took the seats in front of the massive marble-topped desk.
“Are you getting married or not?” the old man blurted out.
“Yes,” Oliver replied. “She’s done me the honor of agreeing to my proposal. We thought it only proper to speak with you about it.”
“Did she do that to you?” One arthritic finger pointed to Oliver’s face. “You blind in that eye or what?”
“No, Your Grace. No to both questions,” Oliver replied.
Pressing her lips together to keep from pointing out her grandfather’s rudeness, Jewel instead reached for Oliver’s hand.
“Girl looks like her mother. She was a beauty.” Lips still tightly closed, Jewel wasn’t sure if the old man expected a response or not. When Oliver made no remark, the duke gave a phlegmy cough and began speaking again. “Damned damp weather. I’m not making that mistake again. Seems I’ve been given a last chance to get it right. Young lady, do you want to marry this man?”
“Yes, Grandfather. I love him with all my heart.” Unsealing her lips, Jewel smiled.
“Love is good. Money is better, but love is good, too.” Shifting in his seat, the duke struggled to wrap his crooked fingers
around the drawer pull and managed to slide it open a few inches. “Excuse us, Marion, your man and I need to talk business.”
“Grandfather, my name is Jewel. Marion was my mother.”
“Who said she wasn’t?”
“No one, Your Grace. As you know, my mother, Marion, left me well taken care of with the portion you provided for her. There is no need to talk of settlements with Lord Winchcombe.”
“Is this your office or mine?”
“Yours.”
“That’s what I thought. You are bold and impertinent, Granddaughter. They tell me you came all the way from Boston by yourself and survived by your wits these past few months. Even managed to get your mother’s bequest back into the right hands, the way I hear it.” He leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “I would expect no less from a granddaughter of mine.”
“Thank you?” Stunned that he knew so much about her, Jewel clamped her mouth shut once again.
“You are most welcome. Now take yourself to Bettina. She’ll want all the details. Weddings make her delirious with glee, so go brighten her day and leave us men to curse and smoke.” With no other choice, Jewel reluctantly left the room.
Chapter Twenty
“Why are we stopping here?” Jewel asked, pulling at Oliver’s arm as the carriage rolled up to the Dunwoodys’ front door entrance. “I hardly think my aunt and uncle have agreed to put me up until the wedding, and I wouldn’t stay here, even if they did.”
“They’re out of town for an extended holiday.” After whistling for the new stableboy to take care of the horses, Oliver extricated his arm from Jewel’s grasp and jumped down from the driver’s seat. “Trust me a while longer. I want to show you something.” She held her tongue as he helped her down, but he’d have to explain himself quickly.
“Did my uncle agree to let you use the house or are we trespassing?” Jewel asked. “I thought my days of unlawful entry were behind me.”
“We not only have permission; we have the absolute right.” Catching her unaware, he scooped her up into his arms. “This house belongs to us now. It was part of the settlement I worked out with your uncle.” Happiness and pride warmed his heart as he carried her over the threshold. Not yet legally married, but his life was now forever joined with hers, no matter what obstacles might be thrown in their path.