Very Truly Yours

by Julie Beard

  "Oh, my!" Rosalind exclaimed, squeezing her husband's hand. "Whatever shall we do to help poor Mr. Fairchild?"

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  "I'll go to London at once and settle the debt with this Lord Abbington, if I can find him there," Bartholomew replied. "It's a small price to pay for all Fairchild has done for you, Liza."

  "Thank you, Papa. I quite agree."

  "He'll only have a few days at the sponging house in Waverly to try to pay up before they send him off to prison. I won't be able to settle the matter on such short notice."

  "I'll go with you to London, Papa. I want to visit him in prison. I want him to know how grateful I am."

  "You can't go to a prison in London!" Rosalind cried.

  "Of course you can't," her father agreed. "You and your mother can go to Waverly and explain everything to Fairchild while he's still there. Keep him company. Tell him not to worry. By the time the bailiff brings him to London, the matter will be resolved. I'll bring the dear boy home with me safe and sound in less than a month."

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  Two weeks after Bartholomew Cranshaw had left for London, Liza received a letter full of good news. Her father had cleared Jack's debt to Lord Abbington and by the time she'd received the missive, her father predicted, he and Jack would be on their way back to Middledale. An elated Liza had begun preparing a welcome home celebration.

  The next week, however, she received a second letter that dashed her hopes of a quick reunion. Her father wrote to inform her that a second creditor had come out of the shadows, apparently encouraged by Lord Abbington's success in eking blood out of the Fairchild Tea Company. A Scottish lord was demanding fifteen thousand pounds,

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  and Liza's father said it would take time to settle so large a sum.

  Liza immediately decided to travel to London. She would not let another day pass without moving heaven and earth to reunite with Jack. Her mother protested heartily, but when Liza displayed her usual tenacity, Rosalind reluctantly agreed to make the journey with her daughter. That is, until Liza fainted. It happened for no apparent reason the day before they were to set out on their arduous trip.

  Rosalind Cranshaw called the physician, who ordered immediate bed rest. Though Liza was anxious to see Jack, she had to admit that sleep was welcome. She'd had trouble sleeping ever since the day of Jack's arrest. But if sleep deprivation was her only disorder, why was she suddenly so nauseous as well?

  "May I come and sit with you, my dear?" Aunt Patty said late in the afternoon after the doctor had departed.

  Liza was propped up in bed in her white silk chemise, rereading her father's letter. "I am determined to leave tomorrow, Aunt Patty. I don't care what the doctor says."

  "Leave your sorrow?"

  "No! Leave tomorrow, I said. Oh, I'm sorry, Aunt Patty, I shouldn't be impatient, but do be a dear and give me your good ear. I don't feel like shouting today."

  Her aunt went to the other side of the bed and sat on its edge. She took Liza's hand in hers and stroked it.

  "Will you take a letter to Mr. Harding with you when you go, my dear?"

  Liza looked up in shock. "Why, of course. Are you exchanging letters with Mr. Harding?"

  Patty nodded, beaming. "Yes. He says spending his days at the Fleet with Mr. Fairchild has taught him a great

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  deal about how fortunate we all are to have our health and our sanity. He doesn't want to waste another moment in idle amusements. He wants to marry me."

  "Oh, Aunt Patty! That's splendid."

  "Is that acceptable to you, my dear? You are, after all, gently bred."

  Liza leaned forward and hugged her. "Don't be a goose, Aunt Patty. I'm a merchant's daughter and I don't expect to be assuming airs anytime soon. Of course I approve of Mr. Harding. I only hope I feel well enough to travel tomorrow or I won't be able to deliver your letter." She sank back onto her pillow, suddenly feeling flushed. "Do you think I'm dying? Wouldn't that be too ironic? I'm finally free to marry the man I love and then I die."

  "You're not dying, my dear," Patty scoffed with a laugh. "You're increasing."

  Liza slowly frowned at her, as if waking out of a dream. "What? Increasing!"

  "Yes, you're going to have a child."

  "What! How? How can that be?"

  "Why, I suspect you made love to a man at some point in time."

  "No!" Liza blushed crimson and covered her eyes with a hand. "That's not what I mean. I mean how... how could it have happened so quickly?"

  "It only takes one time, my dear."

  "I simply didn't think that... that this would ... result."

  "One rarely does think of these things in a moment of passion. I did think you were gone awfully long on your walk during the picnic by the churchyard."

  Liza grinned and sank down, covering her head with her sheet. "Stop, Aunt Patty, you're embarrassing me."

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  "Don't worry, my dear. If I were thirty years younger, I would have done the same thing. So don't waste a moment regretting it. And your mother is the last person in the world who could criticize you."

  Liza sat back up and thought about it seriously. "I don't mind, you know. I'm happy. After all, it's Jack's child. I suppose that's why I gave no thought to the consequences of our passion. In fact, I desperately want this baby."

  "Then you mustn't go to London."

  Liza frowned. "Why not?"

  "The journey is always difficult and uncomfortable. If something goes wrong, you could lose the child. It happens often enough under the best of circumstances."

  Tears welled in Liza's eyes. She wanted to see Jack so badly, but she knew she could never do anything to jeopardize his child. "Oh, Aunt Patty. You're right. But I miss him! Why hasn't he written?"

  "Mr. Harding says Mr. Fairchild is glum and scarcely eating. I should imagine he's feeling somewhat humiliated."

  "Then I must write to him every day."

  "You have been, Liza!"

  "Then twice a day."

  "Speaking of letters, I have one for you here in my pocket. Mr. Honeycut brought this when he came to see Celia today. I walked with them through the garden."

  "I certainly hope you will be more cautious with Celia than you were with me, Auntie," Liza said primly as she took the letter. "Look what happened to me!"

  The older woman smiled with delight. "It couldn't have turned out better."

  "Why, it's a letter from Mrs. Halloway!" Liza broke

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  the seal and pealed open the page, reading quickly, then frowning.

  "What is it?" her aunt queried. "Bad news?"

  "No, not exactly. It's simply that... she says she doesn't know why I haven't written. She complains it has been four months since she received any letters from me, and she apologizes for not having written herself."

  Liza's hands dropped in her lap. She gave her aunt a stunned look. "But I did write to her. And she wrote back to me. She told me I should not marry Lord Barrington after all. I remember it distinctly. Jack brought the letter to—" She stopped and gasped. "It was Jack! Aunt Patty, will you kindly go to the escritoire in the library and bring me my letters. The key is in that box over there. Hurry. I must get to the bottom of this at once."

  Liza waited impatiently while her aunt did as she was asked. She returned with a handful of letters. Liza sorted through them until she found the one that had ostensibly been written by Mrs. Halloway's abigail. Liza snatched it up.

  "Here it is." She looked at the handwriting, mentally comparing it to the note Jack had sent her. The style didn't match at all. Disappointed but not thwarted, she gave her aunt a speculative look. "May I please see your letter from Mr. Harding? I promise not to digest the contents. I simply want to look at the penmanship."

  Patty pulled the missive out from between her breasts. Liza's eyes widened and her ears reddened. "Aunt Patty, I had no idea you were such a romantic!"

  "I could teach you a thing or two, I avow."
r />   Liza ignored her aunt's superior and suggestive smirk and compared the letters, her eyes flitting back and forth between them. Then she smiled triumphantly. "That's it!

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  I knew it. Mrs. Halloway never received my letters. I've been duped!"

  "By whom, my dear?"

  "By the scoundrels you and I plan to marry!"

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  fter spending a few days in the sponging house in Waverly, Jack was transported to the notorious Fleet Prison. He immediately recognized the combined stench of despair and unwashed bodies on the commoners' side. Fortunately, he was led directly to the masters' side, the area designated for those who could pay for their own room and bed. He surveyed his small, gloomy surroundings, and when he spied a rat in the corner of the stale-smelling chamber, he hunkered down and prepared himself for a long, uncomfortable stay.

  He would very likely be here until his grandfather died. Once Jack received the title, they couldn't keep him here any longer. But what of Liza? Could he survive apart from her until then? How ironic to think he'd once wondered if he could survive with her for more than two hours at a time.

  Prepared for a long stay in prison, Jack was astonished when Bartholomew Cranshaw arrived a few days later and

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  announced that he'd happily paid Jack's debt to Lord Abbington. But then glee had turned to despair when another creditor stepped forward demanding payment for an even greater debt.

  Jack's faithful secretary had been visiting every day. Harding was staying at the rooms Cranshaw used whenever he was in Town. Together they were fervently conspiring to end this debacle. After a week or so, Jack grew used to his spartan accomodations and the view of the polluted air visible through his barred window. He had time to think about all that had come to pass, about how much he owed his grandfather, for without the impending title he would very likely rot here.

  And of course he thought about Liza. Nearly every moment of every day he thought of her. There was so much he had to say, so much he wished he could confess. After sorting his thoughts and recognizing the pure, true depths of his love for her, he sat down to write her at long last.

  My Dearest Liza,

  Words cannot express how painful it is to be apart from you. And it would not be nearly as painful if I had only taken the time to adequately express myself in person. But perhaps it is easier to do so in writing. Words give a certain dignity to the human condition. And so, my darling Liza, I hope and pray these words will do justice to you and my feelings for you.

  Did I ever tell you that I love you? Did the words ever fall from my lips, along with all those passionate kisses? Did I ever say that you are the only woman who has ever touched my heart? Oh, I have thought fondly of many fair ladies, you know it to be true. But I have never held a woman whose absence from my arms literally made my heart ache. Liza, when I am with you the world is simply right. And when I am not with you, the world as I know and love it ceases to exist.

  I love you, my darling girl. I cannot live without you. And yet I cannot die for the want of you, for then I would leave you to your own miserable solitude. So you must wait for me, as I know you will.

  I love you, Liza. I want to marry you. I want to raise a family with you. I hope my miserable insolvency will not matter, for you know I would have given up everything I possess to protect you, even my pride.

  I hope I have adequately expressed my intentions. Before I close, however, I have a confession to make. I forged a letter to you from Mrs. Halloway. You may recall I gave it to you on the terrace. 1 also read the letter you sent to Mrs. Halloway after Henry returned it to my offices undelivered. You must believe me, dearest, when I say I opened it merely to find out how I could properly return the missive. When I learned of your plight, I determined then to rescue you. As it turns out, you rescued me from a life of empty intimacy. Please forgive me, darling Liza. 1 only meant well.

  Very Truly Yours,

  Jack

  Harding did not arrive for his usual visit the next day. Jack was disappointed, for he wanted his secretary to take the letter safely away and see it posted as soon as possible.

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  He had just resigned himself to a day without his friend when the plump man came scurrying down the corridor and knocked on his door shortly before dinner.

  Jack opened it, and invited him in. "Harding, old boy, shall we go down to the cellar for a pint of ale?"

  Debtors enjoyed far more freedom in prison than criminals, who lived in positively squalid conditions. Jack generally kept to himself, but confessing both his love and his crimes to Liza made him feel downright gay and thirsty for ale.

  "Come on, Harding, just one pint."

  "No, sir, we must speak in private." Harding plunked himself down in the only chair in the cell. Then he looked up with a nervous twitch in his eyes, and jumped to his feet. "You sit, Mr. Fairchild, you're going to need the support."

  "What is it?" Jack hissed, leaning forward. "Is it Liza? Is she ill? What the hell happened?"

  "Do not fret, sir," Harding said placatingly. He patted Jack on the back and nudged him down into the chair. "Take a seat. I'll sit here on the end of your bed. Something very important has happened, Mr. Fairchild. Oh, for God's sake, may I Christian-name you?"

  "Of course, Harding." By now Jack's heart was thundering so loudly he could hardly hear, though he hung on his secretary's every word. Harding was his only link to the outside world. "I pray you, tell me what has happened!"

  "I am sorry to say, Jack, and yet I am not, for it is an event which entirely changes your circumstances, but for all that, any time something of this nature happens one must reflect on the course of life and—"

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  "Harding!" Jack shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "Get on it with it!"

  The secretary swallowed hard. "Your grandfather, Lord Tutley, has died. He passed on a fortnight ago. Kirby sent word to Middledale, and Giles passed along the news to me here in London."

  "I see." Jack sank back in his chair, absorbing the sad news. And it was sad. They had never really reconciled, never been free with the words, "I forgive you." And yet Jack had forgiven him with no expectation of financial reward. At last he felt at peace, and he was grateful that Liza had shown him the power of forgiveness. He only wished his grandfather had learned to forgive before his death. "God rest his soul."

  "You know what this means," Harding said.

  Jack nodded. "Yes. When I am declared the new baron, they will have to let me out of here."

  "You won't have to wait for Parliament to extend the honor, sir. Your grandfather left you his entire fortune. You can buy your way out now. You are no longer in debt. You are, in fact, exceedingly wealthy."

  Jack stared a moment in stunned disbelief, then buried his head in his hands and wept. And while the hot tears burned through his fingers, and a ragged pain rent his chest, he kept thinking of Liza. She had been the one to show him just how far one could go for family. She had been willing to give up everything she had to the ones she loved, just as his grandfather had, in the end, given up everything to Jack. With that one gesture, the granting of a fortune, he had given Jack his forgiveness and admitted he was wrong.

  The tears stopped as soon as he made that realization. A profound peace such as he had never known descended

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  on him. When he raised his head up, it was as Lord Tutley. He had never been more prepared to accept the gifts and the burdens that title would bring.

  He shook his head in hopeful wonder, then looked sardonically at Harding. "Do me a favor, old boy, will you?"

  "Of course, sir. Just name it."

  "Get me the hell out of here."

  "It's already been arranged, Lord Tutley." He shook his head and chuckled in wonder. "I can scarcely believe I finally get to call you that. Thanks to Mr. Cranshaw everything is in order. He certainly knows how to deal with the banks, I'll give him that much—and more. The minute I told him about
your grandfather's demise and the terms of his will, Mr. Cranshaw started making arrangements for your release."

  "And I am truly grateful." Jack reached for the letter on this table. "I want this missive to reach Liza Cranshaw before I do. Will you see it done?"

  "Yes, sir. We won't leave until tomorrow. I'll send it off today."

  "And before we leave, I want to visit an old friend of mine on the Strand. He's an art collector. There is one final bit of business I need to resolve before I settle down to become a country squire."

  "A lord of the manor, you mean!" Harding said boisterously. "Finally, I'll be secretary to a Peer of Parliament! I always knew I was destined for great things. By the by, sir, Mrs. Bramble has accepted my offer of marriage."

  "Congratulations! Shall we make it a double wedding?" Jack said, pumping his hand joyfully.

  "Has Miss Cranshaw accepted your offer, too?"

  "Not yet. But she will. This time I really won't take no for an answer."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  y the time Jack arrived in Middledale, the leaves were starting to turn. Autumn had begun its golden march, reminding him of all that had happened in such a short time. Jack's life had been utterly transformed. That became poignantly clear when the carriage pulled up in front of the house at Cranshaw Park. It was the most satisfying moment of his life. Liza and Celia ran out of the house to greet them, laughing and weeping, and they were followed soon after by Rosalind Cranshaw and Patricia Brumble. Jack, Harding, and Bartholomew Cranshaw fairly leapt out of the coach in their eagerness to be reunited with their women.

  Hugs and kisses were freely given from all quarters, and Jack had the warm, thrilling sense that he was home for the first time in his life. This was his family. And it was a loving family. He was their conquering hero, and the ladies crooned and clucked over him. Jack happily exchanged anecdotes and caught up with the Cranshaws

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  over tea in the parlor, but he couldn't wait for time alone with Liza. He could tell from her looks, which alternated between the smoldering and the sentimental, that she wanted time alone as well.