The Substitute Countess

by Lyn Stone

  He nodded. “Strange indeed. Tell me, do you recall entering the convent?”

  “Not at all,” she replied truthfully.

  “Probably another dream,” Jack said. “You know, such as the ones you mentioned having of your mother. It stands to reason a child brought up in a ritualistic environment like a convent would exercise imagination in such a way.”

  “You make the convent sound like prison and it wasn’t that at all,” she informed him. “But perhaps you are right about the dreams.”

  “I wonder how you knew of the spar, though.”

  Laurel wondered, too. The dream seemed so real.

  “Shall I point out other parts of the ship?” Jack asked. “I’ve been a seaman for most of my life, so this is a second home to me.”

  She took his arm and they continued their stroll around the deck of the brigantine. Laurel found herself searching in memory for other nautical words she might have dreamed of or learned as a child, but nothing else they passed by seemed familiar.

  Only the spar and the storm.

  Chapter Five

  They sailed into Plymouth Harbor four days later on a gray afternoon. Laurel found the town fascinating when they disembarked, so different from the buildings in La Coruña or any others she had seen in Spain. When she began to ask about the differences, Jack did not patronize her. He answered with alacrity and encouraged her to question.

  “This Plymouth is the harbor where, two hundred years ago, the famous Mayflower set sail for the new world, isn’t it?” she asked, turning to look back out to sea.

  “The very place. You studied about that, eh? A group of dissidents spurned Church of England ways.” He smiled as he hefted his travel trunk onto his shoulder. “They thought the rituals too Catholic.”

  She lifted her bag and set off beside him down the cobbled street. “Not all aboard left England due to that,” she said, glad she could show him that she knew a little something of the world. “Saints and strangers, they were called. Whatever their reasons for leaving, weren’t they courageous to set out on such a venture, facing the unknown in a strange land?”

  “Precisely what you are doing yourself,” he said with a grin. “Aren’t you the brave one!”

  She smiled. “Am I? I hadn’t thought of that. The natives here are welcoming and civilized, I trust.”

  “Most of them are, but it pays to watch your purse,” he advised. “In regard to scoundrels, may I offer you a bit of advice?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “Here, and especially in London, there will be very many men everywhere you go, something that will be new to you, having been reared with the sisters. If I’m not by to provide you protection, have a care around them, Laurel, even those who appear to be gentlemen.”

  “For they do not always mean well,” she said, mimicking his low, serious tone of voice. “Especially beware of those from Spain with roving eyes and hands,” she added, pointedly reminding him that she had already learned that particular lesson.

  He laughed. “Well then, now you know of the pickpockets, as well.”

  Laurel felt safe enough since she owned no purse or anything to put into one. The only two things she treasured were within her travel bag. She held it closer, uncertain whether he had been jesting about thieves everywhere.

  “Plymouth seems a lovely town from what I see.”

  “I like it. My early years were spent several streets from this very spot.”

  “May I see where you lived?” she asked, hoping for a better picture of the boy he had been.

  “Aye, and you must meet my mother. She has a larger place now that she’s remarried, but it’s very close to our old home.”

  “You have a mother!” Laurel exclaimed.

  “Well, I wasn’t hatched,” Jack said with a twist of his lips.

  She laughed. “You know what I meant. Never once have you mentioned she was alive. I assumed you were an orphan like me.”

  “Sorry, but you never asked. So I am telling you now, you have a mother-in-law. Come, we’ll go and see if she will let me keep you.”

  Laurel knew he was joking now, but worry set in nonetheless. Would his mother tolerate a Catholic daughter-in-law, one who had very little real knowledge of the world and barely looked presentable?

  She hurried to keep up with Jack as he strode the smooth stones of the streets, winding through the alleyways, a beatific smile on his face.

  “Just there,” he said as he stopped and pointed to a row of small shops. “We lived above the chandler’s. See the sign? Mother’s family were candle makers. She did right well during the war but sold out when she married the chemist.”

  “When did your father die?” Laurel asked, wishing they had dwelt more on his family’s history. They were her kin, too, after all.

  “Ten years ago. I was eighteen and sailing on my own then. All those years Da survived at sea, could climb rigging like a monkey and battle pirates and privateers better than anyone. Then he fell off a ladder while hanging a new sign over the shop when he was home on a visit. Broke his neck.” He shook his head. “An ignominious end for a born sailor.”

  “That’s so sad. But your mother is happy in her new marriage?”

  “Mr. Ives does right well by her, so she says. I sailed out of here on my way to fetch you, so she’ll probably be expecting me back sooner or later.”

  “But not me,” Laurel guessed.

  He laughed. “No, not as my wife. She’ll be shocked to silence to find me married. And glad of it, too, when she recovers.”

  They walked on down the street to the chemist shop and Jack entered first, holding the door open for Laurel. He set down his trunk just inside.

  A statuesque, fair-haired woman in her mid-fifties threw up her hands and cried, “Jackie Boy!”

  Laurel noted the resemblance in their features. The mother had the same strong nose and chin. The indentations in her cheeks that could almost be deemed dimples softened her countenance just as Jack’s did. Her mother-in-law was a tall, handsome woman with a proud carriage and a capable air about her.

  Mrs. Ives rounded the counter and grasped her son in a hearty hug. “Seeing you twice in a month almost never happens!” Then she noticed Laurel and stepped a little apart from Jack, though she seemed not at all embarrassed by her open display of affection.

  “Excuse me, miss. I didn’t mean to ignore you. What is it I can do for you today?”

  Jack hugged his mother with one arm and gestured to Laurel. “You can welcome a daughter, Mum. This is my wife, Laurel. Laurel, my mother, Hester Ives.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open and she gaped, first at Laurel, then up at her son.

  “See? I told you. She’s speechless. Not a condition we shall see again right soon.” He seemed delighted.

  “Mrs. Ives, so nice to meet you,” Laurel said, hoping to break the woman’s spell. She dropped a curtsy and ducked her head.

  “Wife?” his mother gasped. “Is it true? You’re not having me on, Jack?”

  “Not at all. We were wed aboard ship. Isn’t she lovely, Mum?” He winked at Laurel.

  “Who is she?”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Daughter of the former earl. Of Elderidge. Remember I told you I was going to fetch her home from Spain?”

  Mrs. Ives reached behind her to grasp the countertop with both hands. “Then you were not jesting, Jack? Do not play with me,” she warned. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you inherit that title or no?”

  “Indeed I did, Mum. I told you there was no other male heir.”

  “You jackanapes, I never took you seriously!”

  “Well, you may this time. I am the earl and Laurel is my countess. She has no more experience with the nobles than I do, you see, so we decided to muddle through it all together.”

  “My God. I think I might faint,” the woman declared, clenching her eyes shut and pressing a hand to her chest.

  “Steady on, old girl!” Jack said, laughing. “Here. Le
t me close shop for you and we’ll go up and have a chat. Where’s Mr. Ives today?”

  “Gone for the week to purchase stock,” she murmured, taking Jack’s arm as he led her to the stairs. “Will you stay the night, dear? Please?”

  Jack looked over his shoulder at Laurel with apology in his eyes and a plea for understanding. She nodded emphatically.

  “Of course, Mum, we’ll stay if you like,” he replied.

  Laurel realized right away why Jack had looked a bit crestfallen at having to stay with his mother. There was only the one bedroom and a small parlor above stairs.

  Mrs. Ives had declared on the way up that she and Laurel would occupy the bedroom and Jack would be relegated to the sitting room couch.

  Laurel was a bit disconcerted by that herself. The longer they put off making their marriage real, the more she worried about it.

  Mrs. Ives regained full voice in good time, and over tea, Laurel learned much about Jack’s early life through tales of his derring-do as a lad. She laughed even as her heart melted, seeing the lovely relationship that still existed between mother and son.

  When she and the woman retired for the night, Mrs. Ives insisted that Laurel call her Mum as Jack did.

  “He won’t be an easy one to live with,” she warned Laurel in a near whisper. “Jack has trouble being still, you see. Never a quiet moment around him, I swear. How he ever managed all his energy aboard ship for weeks and months at a time, I can’t imagine.”

  Laurel could well imagine it. He probably had spent the time diving in after errant lads who fell overboard or climbing to the top of the mast. If there had been battles, he would have thought so much the better, but she said none of that to his mother. Instead, she tried to ease the woman’s mind about Jack’s future.

  “Perhaps he has done with the sea, ma’am. He will have lands to manage now.”

  The mother looked doubtful. “His da was a born seaman and did his best to make one of Jack. It’s probably in the blood anyway, so I daren’t hope you’re right.”

  Laurel dared. “He is your son, too, you know.”

  Mrs. Ives smiled and turned down the bed covers. “So he is and I do so wish him happy, above anything. You as well, child.”

  “You have missed him, haven’t you, all these years he’s been away? Please say you’ll come and visit us often once we’re settled. You and Mr. Ives will be most welcome at any time.”

  “What a dear little thing you are and so thoughtful. Jack’s chosen well, I think.”

  Laurel certainly hoped so. Thus far, they got along well. And she admitted there had been a mighty attraction on her part right from the beginning.

  The next morning Laurel donned her gray gown again in preparation for their journey to London. Jack’s mother had other ideas. As they drank their tea in the shop, she pleaded with Jack to stay one more day.

  He hesitated and Laurel knew why. It was high time they consummated their marriage and could hardly do so in the confines of his mother’s living quarters. Laurel smiled at him and gave a small shrug to say she didn’t mind if he wanted to visit longer.

  “I hate to impose longer,” he said, but finally acquiesced when Mrs. Ives insisted they stay. “Very well, one more day,” he agreed. “But then we really must go on.”

  His mother beamed. “All right, but as penance for rushing your visit, you must come with me this evening. It will be the perfect practice for you, Laurel, before you get to London!” she exclaimed. “And I confess, I would enjoy showing off my new daughter.”

  Laurel could tell that he didn’t want to disappoint his mother in any way, perhaps because he had spent so much time away from her. “Where are we going that’s so important?”

  “To the Theatre Royal! I had planned to go one evening this week anyway. The Olander Company is doing Hamlet and our own Rose Madson is to play Ophelia! Tonight is opening night and the entire town should turn out.”

  “Who is Rose Madson?” Jack asked.

  “My good friend Emma Madson’s daughter, of course.” She flapped a hand. “You wouldn’t remember her, I suppose. I think she was born about the time you went to sea with your father. She was such a lovely girl. Her parents were so upset when she ran off to London to become an actress, but you can imagine how proud they are now she’s performing in her own town!”

  Laurel couldn’t imagine it at all. It must be a parent’s worst nightmare. She had heard about actresses. Perhaps her information was a bit skewed, however, considering where she had gotten it. Her curiosity was piqued. “I do love Shakespeare,” she said, hoping Jack would allow them to go. “I’ve never seen a play before, but I’ve read Hamlet so many times.”

  He looked speculatively at her as she waited for his answer. “I suppose we could. It might be better for you to begin with an outing more modest than some London event.” He nodded. “We shall go then.”

  Mrs. Ives clapped her hands. “Wonderful! You will love the theatre, Laurel. It opened five years ago and I’ve only been the once. The building itself is so grand, I’ll wager it’s as posh as anything London has to offer.”

  “I look forward to it.” She truly did, but wondered what it would be like with crowds of people and all the noise. Plymouth was the largest town she had ever visited and the passengers and crew of the ship, the most numerous crowd she had yet encountered.

  While Jack went out to arrange their transportation to London for the following day and purchase tickets for the play, Laurel spent the hours helping his mother in the chemist shop.

  Mrs. Ives proved good company, bragging on Laurel each time a customer came in. She assigned her small tasks anyone could do and then praised her efforts as if Laurel were the most amazing apprentice ever. They kept busy until the hour arrived to get ready for the evening.

  Laurel donned her white frock and added the ribbons to her hair. Mrs. Ives was busy digging inside a trunk beside the wall. “Ah! Here it is!” She stood and approached Laurel. “Wear this,” she said, draping a soft, blue-and-white paisley shawl around Laurel’s shoulders. “Jack’s father brought it to me as a gift once when he’d been away for nearly a year. If you like it, I want you to have it.”

  The soft, finely woven wool felt as supple as silk. “I’ve never felt such a wonder!” Laurel said, breathless, as she smoothed the delicate folds over her shoulder. “I’ll treasure it always.” She gave Mrs. Ives an impulsive hug. “Thank you so very much.”

  “It’s only a shawl!” Mrs. Ives said, laughing and patting Laurel’s back. She stood back, looked at her and tweaked one of the ribbons in her hair. “My girl needs pretty things.”

  It wasn’t the lovely gift that warmed Laurel’s heart, but the sentiment behind it. Jack’s mother liked her, called her daughter and seemed so happy to have her in the family. The shawl represented a long-held dream coming true.

  “The carriage is here, ladies!” Jack called up the stairs.

  “Ooh, a carriage, he says!” his mother exclaimed, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “Mr. Fancypants is taking us out in style!”

  “Lord Fancypants,” Laurel whispered, and they laughed together like girls.

  The theatre was every bit as grand as Mrs. Ives had declared, Laurel thought when they arrived. Huge columns at least thirty feet tall graced the entrance. “My word, it’s so large!”

  “It’s also a hotel and has assembly rooms,” Jack told her. “The theatre’s only a part of it, but that alone can accommodate over a thousand people at once.”

  “I hope they all are not here tonight,” she muttered.

  He helped her and his mother out of the carriage. “I tried to get a box, but they were all taken, so we’ll have to be in the general audience.”

  Laurel was nearly overcome with excitement as they threaded their way through the throngs gathered in the enormous atrium and found seats. Though the air outside had rather a chill to it, inside the theatre it proved almost stifling due to the crowded conditions.

  Above them were the balconi
ed boxes with beautifully dressed ladies and gentlemen looking down. Most held quizzing glasses, or she supposed that’s what they were. She had read of those and wondered how the distant stage would look when seen through them. She took her seat on the bench between Jack and his mother and tried to settle down for the performance.

  There were two acts preceding it, a soprano who sang a tragic love song and then a trio of rather inexpert acrobats who drew loud derision from the crowds. At last the curtains closed and it grew relatively quiet as the play was announced.

  Laurel grew more fascinated by the moment as the play she had read so many times came to life on the stage. The girl who played Ophelia seemed truly mad, lovely as she was, and drew tears well before her character’s death. Even Jack seemed entranced to the point of unusual stillness.

  When it was over and the applause died down, Laurel released a heavy sigh. She wished their outing could go on and on. Jack ushered them out and hailed their carriage which he had arranged to come back for them after the performance.

  “So, what do you think of theatre?” he asked as they waited.

  Laurel grasped his mother’s hand. “Thank you for this, ma’am. It was the most glorious thing I have ever seen!”

  Jack laughed. “That’s not as great a compliment as it might be if you hadn’t lived all your life behind the walls of a convent!”

  “Still, it was wonderful,” she declared with a firm nod, “and you mustn’t make light of it. We should be regular theatre-goers in London.”

  He winked at his mother. “You see how she stands me around, Mum? And you worried that the big city might intimidate her? Scoff at the thought. She’ll take it by storm, wait and see!”

  The ride back to the chemist shop proved jolly, followed by an excellent supper of purchased meat pies and very good wine. Laurel hoped this night was a portent of happy times to come.

  “This truly is the best night of my life, by far,” she said to his mother after they retired. She hugged the beautiful blue-and-white shawl once more before folding it away.