“I thought—”
“Do not give me excuses, Joshua,” said Tabby. “Give me a way to feed our child. Give me some hope that you are being honest with me.” Give me back the husband I loved and the life you promised us. As much as Tabby wanted to say the words, she withheld them. Not so much because Joshua deserved to be sheltered from her hostility, but because of the two little ears listening to the words she spoke.
“Of course I am being honest, Tabby,” he said, his jaw clenching, though he wouldn’t meet her eyes for more than a second. “How dare you suggest otherwise! Now, give me the money so we can be done with this.”
“But we need this for food and rent, Joshua!”
“Do you know what these men will do to us if we don’t give it to them?”
Tabby’s eyes shot to Mr. Crauford and Mr. Gibbons. The massive man sat there, impassive and staring off at nothing in particular while the smaller watched them with cool detachment. For all of Mr. Gibbons’ strength and size, it was Mr. Crauford that terrified Tabby. Gibbons might be the weapon, but it was Crauford who took aim.
Pulling open her reticule, she dropped her coins into Joshua’s waiting hand.
“This is all we have,” said Joshua, passing it over to Mr. Crauford. “Is it enough for now?”
For now? Tabby’s heart sunk at the thought that there was more to come. More debts. More payments. That was supposed to be over. Finished. The point of selling every last possession and living in squalor was that they would be able to break free of their financial burden and begin anew, but Joshua had ruined even that.
Mr. Crauford nodded, and Mr. Gibbons moved to open the door.
“Until next time,” said Mr. Crauford with a courtly bow, but Tabby ignored it. That made the man smile, a genuine one that touched his eyes and sent a cold shiver along her spine.
All of the Russells watched as Mr. Crauford and his associate stepped through the door, closing it behind them. It was silent for a full three seconds and then Joshua reached to take Tabby into his arms. Before he could fully close them around her, she pushed away and crossed to the other side of the room.
“Mama?” said Phillip.
“Go play with your soldiers, dearest,” she said, keeping her back to Joshua.
Holding a hand over her mouth, Tabby closed her eyes. She’d hardly put anything aside after the last time Joshua eradicated their savings, but she had a few hidden coins in which to feed Phillip and pay the rent. She hoped it would be enough now that the rest of her wages were in Mr. Crauford’s pocket.
Joshua’s hands came down on her shoulders, and Tabby stiffened as he rubbed her arms. “Don’t fret. It will be fine. I promise.” The last bit was whispered, and she felt his breath tickling her neck before his lips met her skin. Tabby stepped away, but Joshua pulled her close.
“I have missed you,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to her neck. “Between your absence and our lack of privacy here, it’s been a while since we’ve had time alone just the pair us.” Another wet kiss crawled up her neck.
Tabby bent her head away from the invading lips, twisting out of Joshua’s hold to face him. “How can you possibly believe that I would wish for you to touch me after what just occurred?”
He crossed his arms, his brow raised. “It is done. Over. And now I was hoping to have some intimate time with my wife.”
“How much?” asked Tabby, crossing her own arms and steeling herself for what she knew was going to be a grim discussion.
Joshua’s lips pulled into a sultry smile that had once made Tabby’s heart sigh. “Should I be explicit?”
“How much do we owe them? They said what we gave them was good enough ‘for now’. That means more is owed, so how much is it?”
With smooth practice, Joshua drew closer, his hands coming to rub Tabby’s arms. “Don’t bother yourself with those details. I am handling it.”
Tabby pulled free of his touch. “How much, Joshua?”
He stepped away with a curse. “Let it go, Tabby. I am handling it.”
“How?” she snapped. Tabby cast a quick glance at Phillip, but he was busy playing with his pair of soldiers—the only toys the boy had left because of how his father handled things. “I am bringing in the only income this family has, so how are you ‘handling’ anything?”
“It is none of your concern,” he said in a low growl.
At those words, Tabby’s heart throbbed in her chest, sending a surge of heat into her veins. It coursed through her, tightening her muscles until she felt so taut she could snap.
“None of my concern?” She felt as though she were burning alive, but her words were steady and hard as steel. “You have beggared us and driven us into this dire situation, and you say it is none of my concern?”
He opened his mouth to interrupt, but Tabby spoke over him, her voice rising. “Now, how much do we owe them?”
“Leave it, Tabby!” he replied with equal volume.
“Tell me, Joshua! How much do we owe those men?” Tabby was nearly screaming. She could not think of another time in her adult life when she had raised her voice so, but she could not concern herself with what the neighbors heard, if her tone hurt Joshua’s feelings, or even if Phillip were bothered by it. She needed to know, and she would not let it go until she had her answer.
“It’s nothing,” he said, matching her. “A trifling, so let it go.”
Coming in close, Tabby let her rage burn through her gaze as she stared into his eyes. “How much is it?”
Joshua’s eyes blazed, too, but he could not out stubborn her. Not now and not over this. Tabby would not relent until she knew the truth of the matter in its entirety. Too much of Phillip’s future depended on it.
“Thirty pounds,” he muttered.
Tabby’s breath froze in her lungs, her hands flying to her mouth. Thirty pounds. Stepping over to the table, she slid onto the chair, her legs no longer able to hold her upright. Thirty pounds.
“Thirty pounds?” she whispered, her eyes staring sightlessly at the wall. There had been a time when such a sum would’ve been naught but a trifling to Tabby, but that time had long passed. Now even thirty shillings was no small thing.
When she met his eyes again, she found Joshua standing there, devil-may-care, as if he weren’t living in a hovel, wearing threadbare clothes, and without a penny to his name. “Thirty pounds is more than I make in a year, Joshua. How are we ever to pay them back?”
“I am taking—”
Tabby slammed a fist on the table, making him jump. “Don’t you dare say you are taking care of it, Joshua Russell.”
More than anything else that had happened, that sobered Joshua. His cheeks paled, his bleary eyes widening. Taking a breath, he nodded. “I have a plan. A brilliant plan,” he said, coming to sit beside Tabby. “I know a man who will lend us the money to pay off Mr. Crauford.”
Tabby sighed and closed her eyes. “And how will we pay off this new debt?”
Joshua reached over to take her hands in his, and she opened her eyes to see him smiling at her as if everything were right in the world. “That’s just it. We pay what we can, but when the debt comes due, we borrow from another source. And then another and another. As many as we need. We will be able to keep ourselves afloat for years doing that, giving us plenty of time to pay it off.”
Pulling her hands from his, Tabby stood, turning away from her husband and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Are you mad? Borrowing on top of borrowing on top of borrowing. We will never dig ourselves out from under it.”
Joshua snorted. “Why is it that my plans are always mad? It was your decision to bring us out here in the first place. If we had stayed put we would be—”
“Living off the charity of others!” Tabby whirled on him. “Living off the scraps they threw us. Do you have no self-respect? No sense of honor? Or duty? Our family is drowning in debt, and you are acting as though nothing is amiss.”
“And you are making a fuss over nothing,” he replied. �
��Half the gentry live off borrowed funds—”
“Look at where we live, Joshua!” Tabby screamed, unable to contain the burst of furious energy. “Look at our lives! We are not gentry anymore, we—”
“I am a gentleman,” Joshua shouted over the top of her words. “No matter how you choose to debase yourself, I am a gentleman!”
Tabby’s heart pounded in her ears as she glared at her husband. Debased? He spoke as though she were nothing more than muck under his boot.
“How dare you…” she ground out, but stifled sobs cut off her words. Just over Joshua’s shoulder, Tabby saw Phillip sitting in the corner, his soldiers abandoned as he held his hands over his ears, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Dearest,” she said, shouldering past Joshua to reach her son. “Oh, darling,” she crooned, scooping him into her arms. Phillip wrapped around her, burying his wet nose into her neck. Tabby held him and felt tears gathering in her own eyes as his little body shook in her embrace.
Joshua watched with dull eyes, though Tabby read his thoughts well enough. It was that ever-present resentment lurking beneath all of the man’s thoughts and actions. Tabby had sensed it far before Joshua had ever admitted it aloud, and now he trotted it out in almost every conversation.
“I sacrificed everything for you,” he said.
Tabby’s jaw tightened, and she wanted to rail against the stubborn, selfish oaf, but it would accomplish nothing, and she would not upset Phillip further. Taking a breath, she allowed her love for her son to calm her. The peace that came from holding her dear little man in her arms washed over her, leaving her shaking from the aftermath of the confrontation.
Staring into Joshua’s eyes, Tabby felt so very exhausted. “That is the difference between us, Joshua. You are not the only one who sacrificed for this marriage, but at least I acknowledge that it was my decision to marry you. Mine. And I have accepted the consequences that came from it.”
Her husband’s eyes narrowed on her for a long moment before he stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Phillip flinched at it, and Tabby rubbed his back as she rocked him.
“Everything is all right, dearest,” she whispered, carrying him over to the table. “No need to be upset.” That was the only lie she would allow herself. She wished to say more to calm his frightened soul, but Tabby could not tell her son that it had been nothing more than a bit of talking. It never was with Joshua.
“Would you like to help me make some dinner?” she asked, hoping a distraction might be the solution. “I have a new recipe I am longing to make for you.”
Phillip sniffled, and he shook his head while keeping it buried in Tabby’s neck.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Yet another shake of his head.
Tabby leaned into him, her cheek resting against him. “That is probably for the best. It has cabbage, and I know how much you hate cabbage. Disgusting thing.”
“I love cabbage,” he whispered.
Tabby shook her head in mock distress. “Oh, no. That cannot be right. You hate cabbage.”
Leaning away to meet her eyes, Phillip rubbed a hand across his cheeks, shaking his head. “I love it.”
“No, I am positive that you hate it more than anything in the world.”
Little wet hands grabbed her cheeks, pulling her face to stare directly into his. “I love it,” he said with such an earnestness that Tabby was hard pressed not to laugh. Her dear little man.
“And carrots?” she asked. “Surely you cannot like those, too.”
Phillip nodded. “And carrots.”
“No,” said Tabby, shaking her head. “That doesn’t sound like my little man. What have you done with him?”
Straddling her lap, Phillip put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes, giving a rather good impression of his former nanny. “You’re being silly.”
“Not I,” she replied but before he could say another word, Tabby attacked his tummy, tickling it in all the spots guaranteed to get her a good squeal of laughter. Phillip wriggled, and he was getting big enough that it took some maneuvering to keep him on her lap.
“Stop!” he gasped between giggles, but Tabby probed his prime spot, and he could not get out another word until Tabby released her prisoner.
Phillip went limp for a moment to catch his breath and then shot off her lap, running to the farthest part of the cottage and out of reach of his tormentor.
“Will you help me make dinner?” she asked, standing and brushing off her skirts, but that was when she noticed there was no fire in the hearth. Tabby sighed. It would take time to build the proper heat, meaning dinner would take even longer. There was no point in dwelling on that frustration for it was far from the most important in her life at present, so Tabby got to work. Only a short while ago, starting a fire had been daunting, but now Tabby started it with ease, getting all the components into place.
“All right, Phillip,” she said, straightening and going to the cupboard. “We will need cabbage, carrots, onions…” But Tabby’s voice drifted off as she opened the door to find the pantry bare. It was not as though it had been filled to bursting before, but there had been a fair amount of food when Tabby had last inspected them only a few days before. Now, there was nothing but a tiny, withered potato sitting alone in the corner.
Staring into the void, Tabby battled between seething rage and hopeless despair. A few of Captain Ashbrook’s less than choice words sprang to mind as she thought about her husband. With it being Sunday, the market would be closed, and she could not face the thought of begging her neighbors for help. No doubt, they already knew too much about the Russells’ hardships, and Tabby could not bear the humiliation of revealing that she had no food to feed her child.
But Tabby could not let Phillip go hungry.
“Are we going to make the soup, Mama?” asked Phillip as he dragged a chair over from the table so that he could see into the upper shelves of the cupboard.
“Not now, Phillip.” She grabbed him off the chair, placing him on the ground, but Phillip immediately climbed up it again.
Gladwell House. The thought popped into Tabby’s head, and she shied away from it. But it was the only option. The staff were gone for the rest of the day, and Captain Ashbrook would be in his room. The house would be mostly empty. Tabby could sneak in, fetch something from the pantry, and replace it later using the meager savings hidden in her room. No need to explain to anyone. No one would be the wiser.
Gathering their things, Tabby led Phillip out into the summer evening. The air was warm, the insects buzzing lazily in the sky, and much of the walk was as beautiful as it had been only a scant half-hour before, yet Tabby’s bruised soul struggled to find any enjoyment in it. Even hearing Phillip chatter on about all the important events of the last few days was not enough to raise her spirits; it only reminded her that she was missing so much of his life. Visiting for a few hours a week did not make up for all that lost time, especially when most of her trips home were a frenzied torrent of chores to be done while Joshua lazed about and watched her toil.
It was best not to think of that man right now. Tabby’s heart couldn’t bear it.
Pulling free of Tabby’s grasp, Phillip dropped to the ground, kneeling beside a grasshopper. Poking at the insect, it leapt into the air. Phillip flinched, falling onto his back. And then he let out a laugh. Scrambling to his feet, he chased after it.
“Sweetheart!” called Tabby, torn between frustration at the delay and amusement at his childish delight in such small things. Eventually, she had him in hand and headed the right direction.
“Now, Phillip,” she said as they approached the front gates, “I need you to be very quiet when we go inside. Not a word.”
Phillip nodded, though his attention was on the world around him and not at all on her.
“Phillip,” she repeated, forcing him to focus. “What did I say?”
He shrugged.
“Not a sound when we go inside,” she reiterated, and he
nodded.
Going around to the back door, Tabby led Phillip into the kitchen. Her stomach twisted as she stepped across the threshold. It was not as though she were stealing. Tabby fully intended to pay for every last bit of food they took, but the flutterings in her heart made it hard to believe herself anything but a thief. However, it was better than facing the others and admitting her dire circumstances.
Phillip started to speak, but Tabby put a finger to her lips, making her feel even more abominable.
Leading him to the pantry, Tabby took a basket and began filling it with the bare necessities. Nothing fancy. Nothing more than she could afford. She kept a running tally in her head as she placed each item into her basket.
“What are you up to?”
Tabby jumped, whirling around to see Mrs. Bunting standing in the doorway.
“I…” but Tabby had no idea how to finish that statement. Unfortunately, Phillip decided to do it for her.
“We are getting dinner,” he said.
Tabby’s head slumped with a sigh, her shoulders falling. “We were not stealing, I promise, Mrs. Bunting.”
“Of course not. The thought never crossed my mind,” said Mrs. Bunting, looking at the boy. “And this little fellow must be Phillip. Your mama speaks of you often. Do you like biscuits?”
He eyes widened, and he gave a solemn nod.
Beckoning for him to follow, Mrs. Bunting had the pair of them gathered at the table and plied with sweets.
“What are you doing here?” asked Tabby. “I thought you were going to spend the evening with your daughter.”
“Her youngest has a fever, and I didn’t want to impose while they had their hands full,” said Mrs. Bunting, prepping a pot of tea before seating herself across from Tabby. “But might I ask what you are up to?”
Tabby blushed, her eyes falling to the tabletop. With succinct words, she described her pitiful situation, artfully avoiding the horrid scene with her husband that precipitated it. But judging from the look in Mrs. Bunting’s eyes, she knew there was more to the story than Tabby was sharing.
“I would’ve asked my neighbors for help, but I had nothing on hand to pay them, and I hate to impose on them any further,” said Tabby, picking at a biscuit. “When my husband is unavailable, they help with Phillip, and—”
A True Gentleman (Regency Love Book 2) Page 12