Jack of Hearts

by Marjorie Farrell

  “Not like Windham, who is blessed with that damned open countenance,” grumbled Jack, pointing across the room to Lord Windham and Anne, sitting with their suppers.

  “Actually, Elspeth is a little concerned about him. His engagement to Lady Julia Lovett was rumored to be a love match.”

  “But he hasn’t danced with her much at all, that I can see.”

  “No, he is avoiding her, and Elspeth fears it is not because of indifference, but from lasting affection.”

  * * * *

  “You two look like you are planning a campaign, or at least a skirmish,” teased Elspeth as she joined them.

  “Jack was just telling me that Anne very neatly turned back his frontal assault the other morning.”

  “Oh, dear, then my deception of an old friend was wasted?”

  “Perhaps I must just admit defeat, Elspeth,” Jack told her with a rueful smile.

  Elspeth sighed. “You know, I would advise you to do so, Jack, if I didn’t have some worry about Anne’s other suitors. They are both very nice men and seem to be genuinely fond of Anne, not just the promise of her money, but I am not at all sure that the baron’s daughter will welcome a stepmother after all this time. And Windham…”

  “I was just telling Jack about your theory, my dear.”

  “If there had been no deep feeling between them, I think they would be more casual about their contact. But from what I have observed, he takes care to avoid her. Dances with her only when it would be impolite not to. I just don’t trust that his heart is free. A marriage of convenience with the possibility of developing an affection for one another is one thing. But I would not wish Anne to marry a man whose heart is given elsewhere.”

  ‘I am heart-whole,” responded Jack with a mischievous grin.

  “Indeed! And there could be another extreme—a man incapable of giving his heart.” Elspeth’s tone was light, but Jack was stung by the obvious concern beneath her words.

  “I have not yet met a woman who touched my heart, Elspeth, but I assure you, I do have one.”

  “I am sorry,” Elspeth apologized. “I do have a habit of saying what I think.”

  “Yes, and I was just telling Jack how much like your father you are,” Val told her with a grin.

  “What are you doing for the holidays, Jack?” Elspeth asked suddenly.

  “I had planned to spend them with my aunt and cousins, but I have just heard they are invited to Lady Aldborough’s sister’s.”

  “We won’t be leaving for Yorkshire, for a few weeks.” Elspeth looked over at her husband, who gave her an approving nod. “Why don’t you join us for Christmas and stay to welcome in the New Year?”

  “But this will be your first holiday in your new home,” Jack protested. “Surely you don’t want guests.”

  “Charles will be with us. And I intend to invite Anne over.”

  Jack looked surprised and then pleased. “So you do not completely disapprove of me, Elspeth?”

  “Despite all appearances, I have this irrational feeling that you and Anne would do very well together,” Elspeth told him with an ironic smile.

  “Do come, Jack,” urged Val.

  “All right, I will. And thank you both for giving me an advantage.”

  * * * *

  It was an advantage Jack was glad to have, for over the next fortnight, Anne Heriot managed to avoid his company very well. He was able to get only two dances from her, neither of them a waltz, and any time he joined a group that she was part of, she gave him only minimal attention. Lords Windham and Leighton, on the other hand, were constantly at her side. It was hard for Jack to tell if she favored one over the other. He knew Lord Leighton had a good sense of humor, and whenever he saw Anne with him, she was smiling. But the baron was older and losing his hair, Jack would reassure himself, as he ran his hand through his own luxuriant crop.

  Windham, on the other hand, was more intense. He and Anne often seemed to be involved in serious conversation. She seemed pleased to be in his company, although he was not as amusing as the baron. On the other hand, he had a full head of hair, and it was guinea gold and curly to boot.

  Jack decided to hang back and wait. No matter how appealing either man was, one thing he was sure of—Anne Heriot would make no final decision before the spring.

  * * * *

  It was true that Anne had no intention of making a choice until she returned for the Season, and when Sarah asked her one morning whether she had discovered a preference, she told her friend that so far she liked both the baron and Windham equally well.

  As she went through the daily pile of invitations, she looked over at her companion. “From what I have seen of the weather, I do not think we’ll be able to attend the Spencers’ rout. I think we had best be on the road by next week.”

  “I will be happy to be going home,” said Sarah. “I am too old for all this gadding about.”

  “You had better rest up during the winter, then, for the spring will be far worse. You don’t really hate it, do you?”

  “Not really. Everyone has been most kind to me. Lord Faringdon always makes it a point to ask me for a dance.”

  “Do you think there is anything special in his attentions?”

  Sarah laughed. “Of course not, Anne. We are just good friends. And the earl of Faringdon is not for the likes of me.”

  “You are the granddaughter of a viscount, Sarah.”

  “My father was the youngest son. And I have had to make my own living for so many years that I have lost whatever claim I would have had to social position. And to tell you the truth, I don’t think I would be happy as a countess! I have grown too used to our quiet life in Yorkshire.”

  Anne sighed. “I had hoped you would find someone.”

  “What is more to the point is whether you have. You must have a preference.”

  “I am not sure I have a favorite, but Lord Aldborough is last on my list, that I can tell you.”

  “I rather favor him,” admitted Sarah with a shamefaced grin.

  “The Jack of Hearts?”

  “There is something about him, I can’t say what, but I understand why all the mothers are afraid of him.”

  “Why, Sarah, I am disappointed in you to be so taken in. But then, you are a romantic and I suppose he is the sort of man who would make a perfect hero in one of your novels,” Anne teased back. “But he is too sure of his own charm to suit me.”

  “What of Baron Leighton, then?”

  “I enjoy his company very much and we have the same humorous outlook on the world. I think I would find him a good companion, but if I were to choose today, it might well be Lord Windham.”

  “Yet he doesn’t make you laugh as much. On the other hand, he has more hair!” said Sarah with a wicked smile.

  “That has nothing to do with it!”

  “Nor does he have a daughter.”

  “I do worry about that,” Anne confessed. “But I am going to keep an open mind about the two of them. Steven Leighton’s daughter will be in town for the Season, although she is too young to socialize. I will have a chance to meet her. And if I like her, perhaps an experienced husband is the better choice after all.”

  * * * *

  If Anne had had any doubts about the wisdom of hiring Patrick Gillen, he would have put them to rest by the way he organized their trip back to Yorkshire. Despite the help of her butler and housekeeper, she had taken on the major responsibility for their journey south. But when she summoned Patrick to give him instructions, she found he had anticipated most of what she wanted and volunteered to handle many of the household tasks as well as organizing the horses.

  “I can see the advantages of hiring a master sergeant, Patrick,” Anne told him after she heard his ideas. “You have it all in hand and leave me with very little to do.”

  “And that’s as it should be, Miss Heriot.”

  Anne smiled. “I suppose so, but I am very used to assuming responsibilities here and at home.”

  “Ye�
��ll have to let go of some of them after ye’re married, miss, so this will be good practice!”

  “Miss Heriot’s plans for marriage are none of your business, Sergeant Gillen,” said Sarah, who had just come into the room.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Heriot, Miss Wheeler is right.” Patrick bowed himself out with a patently false obsequiousness. Anne chuckled as the door closed behind her and then turned to her friend. “I am surprised to hear you being so stuffy, Sarah. Don’t you like Sergeant Gillen?”

  “I am very grateful to him for saving you, Anne. And, to be fair, he is very competent,” Sarah admitted stiffly. “But there is something about him—perhaps it is his Irishness—that I find a bit irritating.”

  “Why, Sarah, I would never have suspected you of such snobbery.”

  Sarah blushed. “I do not believe I am a snob, Anne. I certainly do not mean to be. Perhaps I am being unfair.”

  “Well, you don’t have to like him. But I confess that I do. Very much.”

  * * * *

  Although she hadn’t liked what Patrick had to say about sharing responsibilities, Anne had a lot of time to think about it as they traveled the long miles home to Yorkshire.

  She had lived a very different life from that of most of the young women she had met in London. While they were perfecting their crewelwork, she had been exploring geometry. Her father may have been emotionally distant, but he had recognized her talents early on and had encouraged them. And when his bookkeeper had retired, he had approached his daughter to take over the work.

  She had been happy to do it, for it gave her several hours a week with her father, involved with a common concern. It was probably the closest thing to intimacy she had with him, and she suspected that part of the reason he had asked for her help was to spend time with her in a way that was comfortable for him.

  She had hated being sent away to school, but he had insisted. “Tha mun learn pianoforte as well as geometry, lass,” he’d told her. “Tha will be living the life of a lady someday, if I have anything to say about it.”

  She knew he was right when she arrived at school and discovered how different she was from the other girls. Not just in rank, although that was the most obvious, but in experience and interests.

  When she returned home, she’d had only a year with her father before he contracted pneumonia. She had continued to keep the accounts despite Joseph’s protests that it wasn’t proper. What would a husband think of a wife who was bored by the pianoforte and planning the menus? Would a viscountess or a baroness be allowed to take over the bookkeeping of the household? To become involved in the running of the estate? Probably not, but at least she would still have the mills, she reassured herself. Certainly Leighton or Windham would not object to her continued involvement, since it helped provide their source of income.

  Of course, neither man had seen that side of her yet. They only knew her as a young woman who danced well, conversed easily with all, and preferred a mezzo-soprano to a coloratura! It would have been considered terribly vulgar to speak of her father’s business. To speak of her reason for coming to London. To speak of their reasons for courting her.

  Of course, Lord Aldborough had had no fear of being vulgar! He had come right out and said it: “You need a husband. I need a wife.” But he didn’t know who she really was either.

  She didn’t think she could become someone else. She was used to assuming responsibility for things, and she couldn’t imagine letting someone take over her life. If she had to, she would make sure that her marriage settlement had a provision that assured her of some involvement in the mills, if nothing else!

  Chapter Six

  Anne had been home for less than a week when Joseph Trantor was announced just as she and Sarah had come down for their daily ride.

  “I am sorry to disturb you, Anne. I can come back later.”

  “No, no, Joseph,” Anne replied, successfully keeping the trace of annoyance from her voice. “Patrick has the horses ready, Sarah. Would you tell him that I won’t be riding this morning. But you go ahead, if you wish.”

  “I will, if you don’t mind, Anne, for if we are going into town later, I won’t have time to get a ride in.”

  “Come into the library, Joseph. There’s a good fire there.”

  Anne wanted to sit behind her desk to give herself some distance from her cousin, but knew it would be rude to emphasize his employee status, so she sat down in one of the armchairs and motioned him to the sofa.

  “I hope you enjoyed tha trip to London, Anne?”

  Her cousin’s question was innocent enough, but Anne knew that what he really wanted to know was whether she had succeeded in her husband-hunting.

  “It was delightful, Joseph,” she answered as blandly as he had queried her. It was really none of his business whether she had found any suitable candidates for her hand. Of course, he was probably hoping she hadn’t, for that would have put a damper on his own hopes, which she suspected would not be dashed completely until she walked down the aisle with someone else. “I didn’t expect to see you until Tuesday. Is there something wrong at the mill?”

  She was a little surprised when he gave her a worried look, and a nod, for she had supposed he rushed over from personal concern rather than on mill business.

  “Have any machines broken down? Are we behind in production?”

  “Nowt like that, cousin. No, it is just a problem, a slight problem with one of the workers.”

  “You are usually very good at resolving such things, Joseph.” Indeed, for the most part, her cousin rarely spoke much about that part of his job. Their meetings tended to be about production and profits, not men and women.

  “It is one young firebrand, a Ned Gibson.”

  “Whatever does he have to be fiery about? My father’s workers have always received some of the highest wages in Yorkshire.”

  “Much of it is merely personal. I let young Gibson’s fiancée go just after you left for London.”

  Anne gave him an inquiring look.

  “Her behavior was not what your father would have approved, Anne,” he explained, sounding a little embarrassed.

  Anne assumed young Ned and his fiancée had been caught in immoral behavior. Perhaps the young woman was even increasing. But Joseph would be far too prudish to tell her that, of course.

  “It sounds as though you may have been justified in your decision, Joseph, but I suppose the young man finds it hard to accept.”

  “Yes, and unfortunately, a week later, we had an accident in the carding shed. A child got her hand caught in the rollers. She had ignored the safety regulations your father had set up, of course, but that was all young Gibson needed.”

  “He hasn’t been meeting with other workers, has he?”

  “I am sure he has, but I haven’t been able to catch him at it. If I could, he’d be up before t’magistrate in a second and spend three months in jail like his brother did before him.”

  “His brother?”

  “Tom Gibson. He was one of the most active of General Ludd’s troops three years ago, but his second jail term finally broke his resistance. That and his drinking!”

  “Does his brother drink too?”

  “I want to say they all do,” Joseph replied, disgust in his voice. “Always out at t’local pub after work… But to be fair,” he added reluctantly, “Ned doesn’t seem to be a drunkard.”

  “Can we just ignore him?”

  “That is one possibility. T’other is to let him go too. But I have no real grounds, and he does now have responsibility for his fiancée’s family as well as his own.”

  “Perhaps I should visit Shipton,” Anne said thoughtfully.

  “No, no, there is no reason for that,” Joseph insisted.

  “I haven’t been to any of the mills since I was fifteen,” continued Anne, “and that was only a short tour. I know so much about them on paper. I think it would be good for me to show my concern. In fact, I am sure my presence could diffuse any dissa
tisfaction Ned Gibson has generated. Perhaps I could even announce a small holiday bonus!” Anne’s face lit up at that inspiration. “Then Ned Gibson will only look like a malcontent.”

  “I still think it wouldn’t be proper, and perhaps not safe…”

  “Not safe? Do you think him violent, then?”

  “I have no real reason to believe so, but one never knows.”

  “Then I will bring Sergeant Gillen with me. I am sure he can handle one young malcontent.”

  * * * *

  “You can send the mare back to the stable, Sergeant. Miss Heriot will not be riding today,” Sarah told Patrick.

  “And what about you, Miss Wheeler?”

  “I won’t have the opportunity unless I ride this morning. You are to accompany me,” Sarah added.

  Christ, she sounds like a duchess, thought Patrick, as he summoned a stable lad to unsaddle Anne’s mare. As though he would have allowed her to ride alone. But he wasn’t looking forward to it, for it was one thing to ride behind Miss Heriot and Miss Wheeler when they were chattin’ away, and quite another to follow a woman who for some reason that he couldn’t fathom didn’t seem to like him. For all that she worked for Miss Heriot also, Sarah Wheeler acted like he belonged to another class entirely—a subhuman one. Of course, most of the English looked on the Irish like that, so it shouldn’t surprise him.

  “Up ye go, Miss Wheeler,” he said as he gave her a leg up.

  “Thank you, Sergeant Gillen,” Sarah replied stiffly, settling herself into the saddle.

  It had been very cold for the last week, but the temperature had risen overnight and now there was a mist rising from the earth that gave the silence in which they rode an unearthly quality. It was only as they began to climb the dale that Sarah could see more than a few feet in front of her. Sergeant Gillen was riding in front, and because Sarah was so intent on what was before her, she really looked at him for the first time.

  He was a stocky man, but his seat was relaxed and easy. He was wearing what was obviously an old uniform cloak, and the contrast with his new livery made him look a bit raffish. As they reached the top of the scar, the mist lay below them, and Sarah spoke before he even realized she was going to: “It is so beautiful and so mysterious, isn’t it?”