Eyes wide, Robert lowered his voice to confide, “We keep five hundred pounds in the safe in the office, but there’s more in the bigger safe in the basement.”
“I believe five hundred should be sufficient for now,” Flossie said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Robert nodded and bowed and backed toward a door behind the desk to one side. “Just one moment, ma’am.”
Flossie turned to face Mr. Bligh and the rest of the lobby as they all held their breath, waiting to see what would happen. No one said a word. A few minutes later, Robert returned with a thick, sealed envelope.
“Here you are, ma’am,” he said, handing it to her with more bowing and nodding.
“Thank you, Robert,” she said with a smile. She took the envelope and marched back to Mr. Bligh, handing it to him. “Your down payment, sir,” she said. “You will receive a check for the rest once we have received official word through Mr. Throckmorton’s solicitor that the suit has been dropped.”
A few whispers and murmurs from the onlookers met Flossie’s words, but Mr. Bligh said nothing. He snatched the envelope from her and bolted out the front door before anyone could challenge what had just happened.
Flossie let out a hard breath as soon as he was gone. She shook her head, turning back to Robert. “Thank you. I’ll make sure Mr. Throckmorton is fully informed of your loyalty and quick-thinking.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am,” Robert said bowing yet again, his face glowing with admiration. The look faded slightly as he asked in a whisper. “Is Mr. Throckmorton mad?”
Flossie grinned. “No madder than any other wealthy man.”
The answer went over well—with Robert and with the spectators. A few laughed, and within moments everyone had returned to their business.
Flossie headed back to the elevator, Lady E and Polly rushing to catch up to her.
“That was remarkable,” Lady E said. She, too, gazed at Flossie with admiration.
It was enough to make Flossie burst into laughter, but she kept that laughter in check. “Mr. Bligh is a brute and a fool,” she said, “and he was dealt with accordingly.”
They were all silent until the elevator reached the top floor. Then Lady E said, “I believe I’ve grossly underestimated you, Flossie.” There was a newfound note of respect in her voice.
“I’m simply doing what I must,” Flossie said.
“You are indeed, though I’m not sure I could have handled the situation,” Lady E admitted.
They continued on to the room. Jason was still eating when all three of them joined him.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. His color was already better, though he still looked painfully thin to Flossie’s eyes.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” she said, crossing to take the seat opposite him. She began fixing herself a plate from everything Jason hadn’t yet touched. “Although I did just spend fifteen hundred pounds of your money paying Mr. Bligh to drop his lawsuit,” she added as casually as if she’d told him she’d washed his drawers.
Jason paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and stared at her. “And did he?” he asked. “Drop the lawsuit?”
“He did,” Lady E answered. She and Polly stood halfway across the room as though Jason and Flossie were an act in the circus and they were on the other side of the bars.
Jason glanced from them to Flossie, lowering his fork with an expression of such relief that Flossie half thought he would cry again. “I love you,” he said instead, from the bottom of his heart. “I love you so much that I don’t even know what to do about it.”
“What you’ll do is finish your supper, sit and tell me about your time in London, then put on your night things and go to bed,” she told him, just a hint of command in her voice. “And tomorrow you’ll accompany me to the train station, where we’ll catch the first train we can to Brynthwaite. And then we’ll be home.”
Episode Seven - A Return to (Somewhat) Normal
Jason
He was an embarrassment, plain and simple. The face that stared back from the mirror at Jason as he shaved three days after returning home to Brynthwaite was ghastly and sunken. He’d had no idea a man could lose so much weight in just a few weeks. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, although he’d finally been able to sleep, now that he was in his own bed with Flossie beside him.
He’d been able to do other things too, though not very well. The moment he’d felt even passingly comfortable again, his old problem had returned, though how on earth his cock managed to get hard when the rest of him continued to feel like he’d been savaged by a pack of wild hyenas was a mystery to him. Flossie hadn’t complained when he’d taken her in his arms the night before, but she should have. He was rubbish at pleasure, just like he was rubbish at everything else.
“Are you planning to take all day in there?” Flossie called from the main room of their suite. She sounded rushed and impatient.
Jason blinked, realizing he’d been staring at himself instead of finishing shaving. “I’ll be just a minute.”
Flossie evidently didn’t have time to wait. She burst through the door and nudged Jason away from the sink as she reached for the tooth powder and her toothbrush. “You didn’t forget how to shave, did you?” she teased him.
She was teasing. Jason could see the sparkle in her eyes, the glow that said she was as happy to have him home as he was to be there. But where she was visibly pleased with the world and everything in it—including him, by some miracle—his relief at being home was tinged by melancholy.
“I might as well have forgotten, considering the hash I’m making of it,” he said, making the last stroke, then rinsing his razor in the same flow of water from the tap Flossie was using to brush her teeth. He edged her out of the way so he could splash water on his face, then toweled dry.
Flossie finished brushing, spit, and rinsed, then said, “You’ve done a fine job. You didn’t cut yourself once.” She punctuated her comment by kissing his smooth cheek.
Jason’s heart lifted and fell at the same time. She was so happy, so light, and he felt like a ton of bricks with an elephant sitting on it.
She turned him to face her, straightened his waistcoat, then buttoned his jacket. “I have half a mind to take these in a bit,” she said, fussing with his clothes more than usual. “But rather than do that, I intend to feed you up until everything fits again.”
Jason let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry for all this,” he said, fully aware of how morose he sounded. “You have enough on your plate without dealing with a madman.”
She pinched her lips together and scolded him with a look. “You’re not mad, Jason. You were just unwell for a time. You’re home now.”
He caught her hand as she picked lint from his lapels and held it to his heart. “I am mad, or at least I was,” he insisted. “There’s no point in denying it.”
“There’s no point dwelling on it either,” she said. “Either way. I love you and I’m happy you’re home.” She lifted to her toes to kiss his lips.
He kissed her back, though with a feeling that he didn’t deserve her. A man like him, a man who lost control of his mental faculties, and for the stupidest reasons—or no reason at all—didn’t deserve a woman as wonderful as Flossie. He knew he would have to live up to her love and trust in him, just as he knew he would never be able to.
“I must run,” she said at last, backing away and taking her minty kiss with her. “I’ve a staff meeting to run in five minutes. I’m sure they’re all gathered in the staff dining room already. And you have those invoices to look over.”
“Yes, of course.” Jason took one last, disapproving look at himself in the mirror, then followed Flossie out of the bathroom and out of the suite.
An unaccountable sense of wariness met him as he descended the stairs to the lobby by Flossie’s side, then bid her farewell as she hurried on through the dining room. He stood in the lobby for a moment, watching her retreating back. Then he turned and surveyed his ho
tel, his domain. It didn’t feel like his anymore. It was Flossie’s. He was just a useless appendage. But he forced himself to walk to the desk all the same.
“Do you need to attend the staff meeting?” he asked Daniel as he slipped behind the desk.
“Miss Stowe said I could catch up later, sir,” Daniel said with a nod.
“Go on.” Jason nodded toward the dining room door. “I’ll mind the desk while you attend the meeting.”
“Really?” Daniel blinked. “I mean, thank you, sir.”
Daniel scurried off as though Jason would change his mind if he waited too long, and Jason resumed his place. Instantly, old memories of his first days in London, when he was barely more than sixteen, assailed him. He’d been so irate after his experience in Manchester with Andrew Noble and Aggie Crimpley as the two had fled Brynthwaite in order to elope—an experience in which Andrew had been denied a room in hotel after hotel because he was black—that the moment Jason had arrived in London, he’d sought out a job in the finest hotel that would have him and started his upward path.
He’d been full of vinegar and fire in those days, determined to make something of himself, no matter what it took. As it happened, what it took was sleeping with the hotel owner’s wife, and then a series of other wealthy and well-placed women. They’d recommended him to the right people, financed his early endeavors, and utterly ruined him in the process.
No, that wasn’t true. He’d ruined himself. It wasn’t as though any of them had had to force him between their legs. He’d thought he was the luckiest man alive to be handed so much for such an enjoyable price. The truth was, there was a name for people who were paid for their services.
His memories had gone to a particularly vivid and morbid place by the time an overdressed, middle-aged couple bustled through the hotel’s front door, a beleaguered young man carrying more bags than Jason would have thought physically possible behind them.
“Freddy, over there,” the gentleman said, pointing Freddy to the corner by the stairs. “There should be someone here to help you with those things. Margaret, is there someone to help Freddy with those things?”
“How should I know, Ernest,” Margaret answered with a sniff. She raised a pair of glasses to her eyes and glanced around. “I say, it’s as impressive as Lord and Lady Hunter said it was.”
Ernest approached the desk, and even though Jason was right there, watching him, he slapped the bell and announced, “We’ve arrived.” His tone was superior and cold.
The only outward reaction Jason had was to raise one eyebrow a fraction of an inch. It’d been years since he’d been treated so high-handedly. A deep part of him felt as though he deserved it.
“Good morning, sir. Do you have a reservation?” he asked in the same eager to serve tone he’d used in those early days of his career.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Warrick,” Ernest said, then turned to his wife. “Margaret, leave the flowers alone.”
“I was simply getting a better look at the blooms,” Margaret told him, leaning closer to the bouquet.
“Blind as a bat,” Ernest grumbled, then turned his attention fully to Jason. “Well, man? Are we in your book?”
“Yes, sir. I have you and Mrs. Warrick in one of our lake view suites,” Jason said, checking the reservation book, then turning to fetch the correct key.
“Well, hop to it,” Ernest went on. “We’ve been all night on a train, and we need a lie down.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Margaret hissed. “He’s just a clerk. He doesn’t need to know our business.”
“He’s a concierge, not a clerk,” Ernest corrected her, shaking his head. “But she’s right. Look lively.” He snapped his fingers at Jason.
“Yes, sir.” Jason nodded, more than happy to play the role of dogsbody. He handed Ernest the key with a nod, then moved from behind the counter to help Freddy with the luggage.
“Are you going to leave the desk unattended like that, man?” Ernest asked. “Terribly lax, if you ask me.”
“The staff is in a meeting at the moment,” Jason said with a deferential nod, hefting two massive bags in his arms.
Ernest grumbled something indistinguishable, then followed with Margaret as Jason led the whole party upstairs.
It was a simple interaction, something a new porter would learn to do on their first day, but it fit. As soon as Ernest and Margaret were taken care of, Jason returned to the desk and stood at attention. The role came easily to him. At that time of morning, more guests were checking out than in, but he remembered the process like he’d done it all yesterday. It was something he could do, something he was fit to do, which in itself was likely another sign of his madness. Not everyone was nice as they checked out, but the curt guests, the ones who treated him as an inferior, filled him with an odd sense of satisfaction. Perhaps he would have Flossie shout at him and insult him later. That might restore his inner balance.
“What on earth are you doing there?” Flossie laughed, not scolded, as she marched back into the office after the meeting.
“Someone needed to tend the front desk while the staff was meeting,” Jason explained, reluctantly stepping aside so that Daniel could resume his place.
“And what about those invoices?” Flossie asked. “What about the reports from your other hotels?”
The guests Jason had been checking out turned to him in surprise.
“I’m not sure I’m up to it,” Jason murmured, stepping into the office behind Flossie. She looked as though she knew exactly what she was doing, whereas he felt utterly adrift.
“They’re just reports,” Flossie said, fixing him with a knowing frown. “All you have to do is read them and advise.”
“I’m surprised anyone wants my advice these days,” he said.
Flossie huffed as she tossed the ledgers and papers she’d been carrying onto the desk. “A month ago, you’d’ve been storming around this place, issuing orders and turning everyone’s lives upside down.”
When she didn’t go further than that, Jason said, “Things have changed.”
Flossie shook her head. “Nothing has changed. Sit. Work.” She pointed to the desk.
Jason did as he was told, but only because of the sense of calm and satisfaction he felt when Flossie issued direct orders. But that in itself was mad. She shouldn’t have brought him home, she should have taken him to Bedlam.
He’d barely scanned through the first report from his new hotel in York when Willy came barreling through the door.
“Mr. Jason, Mr. Jason. A letter’s been delivered for you. From Huntingdon Hall,” Willy gasped, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to reach the desk. He thrust the letter at Jason, then waited, eyes wide with adoration, for Jason to take it.
“Thank you, Willy,” Flossie said from the position she’d taken up near the cabinet of cubbies where the hotel’s papers were organized.
Jason glanced from her to Willy and took the letter. It was on Lady E’s stationery and addressed in her hand. His stomach dropped.
“I’m sure glad you’re home, Mr. Jason,” Willy went on as Jason pulled the flap of the envelope open and took out its contents. “I learned so many new things while you were gone. I can do compound words now too. You know compound words?”
“Yes,” Jason said, writhing with discomfort at the boy’s worshipful look. He didn’t deserve it. “Good for you.”
“Grasshopper,” Willy said, bursting into a massive smile. “I can write grasshopper. Do you want to see?”
“Why not?” Jason said. He would rather have spent the day watching Willy spell than reading Lady E’s letter, but Lady E could never be avoided.
As Willy grabbed a pencil and spare bit of paper from the desk and began to write, Jason scanned the letter.
“What does it say?” Flossie asked.
Jason frowned. “She wants to see me at Huntingdon Hall immediately.”
“It’s always immediately with Lady E,” Flossie sighed.
Jason refol
ded the letter, stuffed it in its envelope, and stood. “No doubt she wants to call off the engagement.”
“Do you think so?” Flossie glanced up from her work with genuine surprise.
Jason shrugged and stepped around the desk. “What else could it be? I’m an embarrassment now, not an asset. A woman like her doesn’t need a mad fiancé ruining her social chances.”
“Are you mad?” Willy asked, looking up from his spelling.
“No,” Flossie answered firmly. “He’s not.”
“Just broken then,” Willy smiled. “Like me.” He returned to his spelling.
Flossie arched a brow at Jason as if scolding him for putting ideas in Willy’s head.
“Definitely broken,” Jason said.
Willy finished the arduous process of writing a word as long as “grasshopper” and showed Jason the paper. The letters were large and shaky, but there was improvement from the last time Jason had seen Willy’s work.
“Excellent,” he said, feeling a fraction more like someone who had a right to say that. “Keep up the good work.” He crossed to Flossie, kissing her cheek and praying she didn’t see how much desperation was behind the gesture. “I’m off to Huntingdon Hall to face my sentence.”
Flossie reached out to catch his hand and squeeze it before he could step too far away. “If she does call it off, you know it’s for the best.”
“If she calls it off,” Jason countered her, “my social standing in London will be destroyed. Everyone will know I’m out of my mind. I dare say some of my key business partners will have second thoughts about engaging in business with me. I’ll probably have to sell off most of my assets to cover the cost of losing support.”
“That’s it,” Flossie said, her teasing tone back in full force. “Keep on the positive side of things.”
Jason fixed her with a flat look before heading for the door.
“Will Mr. Jason really lose his hotels?” Willy asked.
“No, dear,” Flossie laughed. “He’s just a bit prone to exaggeration at the moment.”
The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part Two Page 13