by Eden Myles
“Yes,” I said hesitantly. We were headed for the reason behind his visit, and I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to discuss this matter with him right at the moment. So I introduced him to Charlotte, instead. He kissed her hand and said, “Madam,” and Charlotte blushed quite inappropriately and kept stealing glances at his breeches.
He must have sensed my overall unease because he said, “Perhaps we should discuss your father’s matters tomorrow?”
I had detailed some of my issues in the letter I had sent him, but I hadn’t become too specific. Again, I felt that flutter in my heart, but for an entirely different reason. “No,” I said, lifting my head proudly. “We should discuss them straightaway. Tonight, if possible. I shouldn’t want to keep you too long. You have business in Boston, correct?”
“I was on business in Boston when your letter came, yes.” He gave me a pitying look. “Would it be terrible of me to suggest we retire to the study until dinnertime?”
We excused ourselves and he offered me his arm. I set my hand on his sleeve. He felt very warm through his formal, black, cavalry-style jacket. He escorted me out of the conservatory and down the hall to my father’s study, but before we even reached the door, the heel of my slipper gave way and my ankle crumpled. He caught me as I was going down in an array of skirts.
“Lucille…” he began, then corrected himself by saying, “Lucky…”
“I’m certainly not that,” I said and grunted at the sharp pain in my ankle.
“Let me summon your lady’s maid for you…”
“No!” I told him, suddenly panicked. “I gave her the night off. “Please…just assist me to the study, if you would.”
“I could carry you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I told him, and he started walking me down the remainder of the hallway, with me limping like a lame horse at his side, but another sharp jab nearly made me collapse with a cry.
“Really, Lucky,” he said, and he scooped me up easily in his arms.
“Mr. Sloan, I really must insist…”
“Tiberius,” he corrected me. “And I must insist you be silent until we’ve had a chance to look at your ankle. You may have broken it.”
I sighed as he ushered me into my father’s study and deposited me on the divan. Then he went to one knee and pushed up my skirts a little ways.
I began to protest again but he shushed me, took my ankle in his hands, and slid my slipper off. “I worked as a medic on the Peninsula, and we learned to never underestimate injuries.”
I didn’t much care for a man touching me like this, but my discomfort was minimal compared to the fear I felt, should someone step inside the room and find me in such a compromised position. I glanced toward the door, but all I could make out were the distant voices of my guests in the conservatory. “Ouch!” I said as he tested my ankle, much too roughly, I felt.
Tiberius looked up with raised eyebrows. “You’ve turned it.”
“Ah, see. It isn’t broken. Thus, it will mend just fine on its own.”
“I should fetch the doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” I insisted.
Holding my ankle in his big, rough hands, he started rubbing it between them, much like a woodsman might do a stick of wood in order to start a flame.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve known infantryman who were injured in their resistance to Napoleon’s troops, and they would sometimes do this to help loosen tight ligaments.”
“My ligaments are quite fine, thank you,” I told him.
Tiberius stopped and glanced up at me. “Why have you summoned me here, Lucky?”
“I did not summon you,” I sniffed. “I merely invited you.” There was no tactful way of saying any of this, I decided, so I just went ahead with the truth. I couldn’t see lying in order to gain money from Mr. Sloan. I started by explaining my father’s gambling habits, and then the loan he had taken from Mr. Van Tassel. I finished by inviting him to look over my father’s ledgers at his leisure.
“I see,” he answered when I had finished. He placed my foot back in its slipper, stood up, and went to look at the ledger stored in the top drawer of the desk. He must have remembered where my father had kept it from his time as his partner.
From the divan I said, “My father purchased goods from you once, a long time ago, is that correct? That’s how you became partners?”
“Silk I had imported from the Orient, yes,” he answered as he settled in to look over the accounts.
“Is it because my father purchased Mr. Whitney’s cotton gin that your association ended?” I inquired. “Was it the change of textiles from silk to cotton?” I knew that cotton was much in demand, and much less expensive to manufacturer. My father might have been a terrible gambler, but he was very good with business when he put his head to it. Of course, now the textile mill on the edge of the river was silent, with no one to run it at all.
“It is…slightly more complicated than that,” Tiberius said.
That was the story that my father had told me. I felt my spirits smart along with my ankle. “It was his gambling, wasn’t it?”
Tiberius looked up with a pitying look. “Your father could be difficult to work with at times,” was all he said.
I sat in silence, contemplating my father. I had once thought he was the most wonderful man in the whole world. At church, the reverend would often say that men like Jesus and the Saints were full of goodness and light, but I used to think how even they paled in comparison to my father—my father who had given me everything, who had spoiled me from the very moment of my birth. He had nurtured me, protected me, and had never complained about my unladylike habits. But now I was seeing a side of him I did not like. My father, like all men, was flawed, and the reverend was right—the sins of the father were, in fact, visited upon the son. Or, as in my case, the daughter he had always treated like a son. I hunched my shoulders. For all my riding, hunting, and tree climbing as a child, I did not know if I had enough strength to shoulder this burden alone.
After some time, Tiberius looked up and said, “I must commend you on your work thus far, Lucky. You’ve done an admirable job of paying off your father’s debt so far.”
“Poor Mr. Smit has helped me a great deal. But we still have far to go.”
“Yes, I see that.”
“I owe Mr. Van Tassel sixty-thousand dollars,” I said in monotone. “Suffice to say, I do not have that kind of money to pay him.”
“But you believe I do.”
“No!” I said, sitting up. “I’ve not asked you here to help me pay back my father’s moneylenders, Tiberius. Rather, I was hoping you might assist me in getting the cotton mill running again.” I took a deep breath. “With just a small investment, we could have the pickers and gins running fulltime again, with a full staff of employees, and perhaps with that profit…”
“You do not have slaves to work the gins?”
“New York abolished slavery years ago,” I told him. “And good riddance, I say!”
“Valiant words, but they will not save you,” Tiberius said with a smirk. “Mr. Van Tassel is still employing Irish and Chinese slaves to extend his profits…”
“I am not Mr. Van Tassel!” I told Tiberius. “I will not enslave foreigners to run my father’s mill. He himself was opposed to slavery…”
“I understand,” Tiberius said, cutting me off before I became too excitable. He sighed over the books. “Lucky, I will speak plainly. Even if we were able to get the mill running again in good time, I don’t believe you would make sufficient money to pay back your father’s debt in the time allotted by Mr. Van Tassel.”
“I am aware of that,” I told him. “I have made a contingency.”
“Oh?”
“There is a Jewish banker I know who has had past associations with my father…”
“You’re going to borrow money from a moneylender in order to pay back a moneylender?”
I lifted my chin proudly. “I�
�m merely…delaying the debt.”
Tiberius sighed and sat resting his chin on his hand for a long moment as he watched me.
“All I need is a small loan to begin,” I begged, standing up and wobbling on my unsteady feet. “That and guidance in running the mill. My father was very lenient with me, but the one thing he insisted upon was keeping me from the mill. He said it was too dangerous for me, so I never learned its day-to-day operations. But I assure you, I learn quickly…and then, well, you needn’t be bothered by these affairs for very long. Of course, I will offer you a percentage of profits as remuneration…”
“I don’t want your money, Lucky,” Tiberius said.
I stopped and just looked at him. “Well, then, what can I offer you as compensation?”
He glanced down at the book. “You have kept these books for your father?”
“Yes.”
“You keep good notations. I could use an assistant in my own business dealings, someone to balance my books for me.”
“I could do that,” I said. “I would be more than happy to do that. But would it be enough? Clerks do not make the kind of salary I would need to pay you back for such a loan. It would take years…perhaps even decades.”
“I’m aware of that. That’s why I wish to employ your services elsewhere as well.”
“Such as?” I could not imagine what use he had for my limited skills with horses and guns.
Tiberius looked me over again in that languid way he had. “I am currently seeking the services of a courtesan.”
***
Charlotte sensed that something was amiss the following morning when I caught the hem of my morning dress with my heel while descending the stairs and ripped the fabric soundly up the side. “Dear, what’s wrong?” Charlotte asked as she helped me into a new morning dress in my room. She put her hand on my arm.
“What makes you think anything is wrong?”
“Your bad luck is particularly prominent today, and that only happens when you’re especially nervous.”
“Oh, Charlotte. It’s not luck. It’s simple clumsiness.”
Charlotte stifled a smile as we stood together before my mother’s oval floor mirror with the gilded flowers around the edges. I looked at the beautiful mirror, but now all I ever saw was how much money I could potentially get for something at auction. In the mirror, I saw the two of us, Charlotte tall and queenly, and me standing beside her, small and tomboyish, with my drab blonde hair and grey eyes and the little pale scars on my cheeks and hands from my various accidents over the years. “Well, yes, you are that.”
“Oh Charlotte!”
“Don’t take offense! After all, none of this was your doing!” she said. “It was that terrible witch!” Charlotte was loyal to a fault. “Did the Ogre refuse to help you last evening?”
I thought about telling Charlotte everything that had happened, and under normal circumstances, I would have. But somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her this. Tiberius’s proposition was simply too shameful, and as I, once again, paled at the very thought of being his courtesan, his kept woman, Charlotte guided me to my mother’s nearby fainting couch and made me sit down and put my head between my knees until she knew I wouldn’t pass out.
Charlotte touched my shoulder with concern. “I know your situation is dire, Lucky, and you should know that I spoke to Darcy about it.”
“You did not!”
“I assure you that what was said was said in full confidence, dear. We both agree that should things not work out, you absolutely must come to live with us in the city.”
I looked up at my friend and felt my heart swell with both love and sadness. “I simply cannot. You have a tiny house, and twins, there would be no room!”
“Such nonsense. I would make room.”
“I cannot, Charlotte. It would be too…too shameful.” I touched her hand touching my shoulder. “I simply cannot live off your generosity, as wonderful as it is. You would come to resent me in time. I would sooner…I would sooner work as a doxy.”
Charlotte clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Well, if you must earn your keep, you could always see after the twins for me.”
I thought about her offer, really thought about it. But then I remembered my bad luck. I would likely burn Charlotte’s house to the ground. But I didn’t want to immediately dissuade her, not until I’d had time to contemplate Tiberius’s offer, so I said, “I shall think on it.”
She squeezed my shoulder reassuringly.
Breakfast was a dismal affair at which hardly anyone spoke. Afterward, Mr. Smit dropped by, as was his almost daily habit these days, to inform me of the details of the next auction. He noticed my missing locket, but I chose not to elaborate. After that depressing fiasco, I decided to take Pepper and go riding for an hour, just to clear my head.
I usually stayed to the trails through the timber woods surrounding the estate, but my dark mood pushed me onward, beyond the trails, and soon I found myself back near the ravine where I had murdered the old fox. I had begun feeling very badly about that as well. A fox was vermin, true, but he had every right to eat, the same as us. He could not be held responsible for his behavior. I looked morbidly down upon the ravine and wondered if murdering the fox had redoubled my already bad luck. It certainly felt like it was working overtime these last few days.
I was so lost in thought that I almost didn’t hear the horses cutting through the woods behind me, but when I turned, I immediately recognized Mr. Van Tassel and his associate, a large Chinaman that he employed to extract payment from particularly difficult customers. Mr. Van Tassel was a small, shrewd, balding man, but his associate was as huge as Tiberius, and covered in arcane tattoos that made him seem that much more frightening.
“Miss Van der Meer, what a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Van Tassel said, grinning like the shark he was.
“I would say not. What are you doing here? This is private property.”
Mr. Van Tassel settled in his saddle and said, “I’m simply looking in during this most difficult time. You have my deepest sympathies regarding your father…”
“I don’t have your money,” I told him, cutting him off. “But I will.”
He dropped all pretences of niceties then and glared at me. “I certainly hope so. It would be another terrible tragedy, should the news of your father’s debts get out to the general public.”
“Do not threaten me, Mr. Van Tassel,” I told him, my anger boiling over. “I said I would have your money. And besides all that, half the town is aware of my financial state. It wouldn’t take much of a mathematician to put two and two together.”
Mr. Van Tassel nodded. “Perhaps you are right. Then consider what I offer to be a service of protection.”
“I don’t understand.”
He glanced over at the hulking Chinaman, who grinned at me with rotting teeth. “It would be a dreadful tragedy, should your beautiful mare go over the edge of this ravine, for instance. With you perhaps upon her back. So I’ll make it my personal duty to see to it that that doesn’t happen…”
I stared at the two men in aghast horror as my blood began to run cold in my veins. I couldn’t believe what they were implying! But before I could answer, I spotted the giant grey Suffolk that we normally used for draft labor in the fields around the house as he and his rider broke through the tree line. Tiberius was riding Gunmetal with great proficiency up the steep incline to the top of the ravine. I watched the smooth movement of the thick muscles in his thighs through his riding breeches as he approached, his narrow eyes centered on the two men who were addressing me. Mr. Van Tassel, spotting the big, scarred ogre of a man, immediately turned his horse’s head and he, along with the Chinaman, began to canter posthaste back down the ravine trail, away from Tiberius.
Tiberius came alongside Pepper, and as the two horses greeted each other, he tilted his hat in greeting toward me, though his attention stayed centered on the backs of the two retreating men. “Nellie said I might find you here.�
��
“Well, as you can see, I’m here,” I said, trying not to sound as depressed as I felt.
“That would be Mr. Van Tassel, then,” he said darkly. “A pity he did not stay around so we might become better acquainted.” He looked me over, as was his way. It was a very intimate look. Very…possessive. “Are you all right, Lucky?”
“I’m fine,” I said primly.
“Have you given much thought to my offer?”
“Really, must you be so direct?”
“I must,” he answered, “seeing how I shan’t be here much longer.”
“Business in Boston?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Something…or someone?”
He offered me a shrewd look. “If you mean, shall I be continuing my quest for a courtesan…then yes. I hear the city women of Boston are more accommodating than the country women of Smithtown.”
“How dare you?” I cried. It was all too much, suddenly. I felt positively ambushed by predators. “How dare you belittle your proposal to me?”
I was used to my cousin Rupert shrinking when I used such a tone of voice on him. But Tiberius only narrowed his eyes in insult. “I assure you, Lucky, I belittle no such thing. I gave great thought to my proposal to you last evening. It was not some random romantic notion.”
“I don’t understand you at all! I have nothing to offer you, Mr. Sloan. I am not some metropolitan woman.”
“Neither was your mother, and yet she serviced your father admirably all through the years…”
I reached out and slapped him.
He looked at me, surprised.
“Do not besmirch my mother’s name, Mr. Sloan.”
He touched his cheek with a gloved hand. “I take it your father never explained about your mother…how they met?”
“They met in church.”
Mr. Sloan smiled sadly, like a man with a secret. “Yes, of course.”
“I still don’t understand you,” I told him, feeling hostile. “A man your age should consider taking a wife, not some harlot for a companion.”