The Immovable Mr. Tanner

by Jennifer Joy

  "Easy enough," Tanner said, his voice cracking like a stripling, firmly pressing his arms against his sides. At least, he was not expected to move. He could stand in one spot easily enough.

  It was easy until Arabella passed behind him, and he caught a scent of her spicy rosewater. What was it? Cloves? Cinnamon?

  When the next step required him to stand before her with his palms pressed against hers — and his worst fear was allayed when he raised his arms and she did not pinch her nose — he thought he could stand thus forever with her hands against his. How long and thin her fingers were. How perfectly they would fit between his. If he spread his fingers ever so slightly, he would find out…

  So mesmerized was he at her touch, Tanner forgot how to walk when Arabella turned to the side and skipped down an invisible line of dancers holding their arms in an arc over them in a promenade. Tripping over his own feet, he tried to catch up with her like a bumbling oaf. His palms tingled where her hands had been.

  Georgiana giggled as she played. "You will have to crouch down just as William does. You will be in high demand at the ball."

  Tanner scoffed. “I doubt that. I shall do my best to blend in and stand against the wall.”

  “You? Blend in?” Georgiana stopped playing, her eyes raised to the ceiling and her expressions changing as she considered the possibility of Tanner’s plan. Finally, she shook her head. “No, it simply will not work. You are new in town, connected with us, and dashingly handsome. Do you not think so, Arabella?”

  Georgiana cocked her head and raised her eyebrow at Arabella, who bit her lower lip and blushed, causing Tanner to break into a sweat again. He pulled at his collar, but there was no relief from the fire consuming him. He foresaw a very long week of dance lessons ahead of him.

  Georgiana returned her attention to her instrument, and Arabella resumed her position to begin the dance again. Tanner did his best to follow along, eventually performing the expected steps without having to give them much thought.

  After what felt like forever — an hour according to the chiming clock on the mantel — Tanner was ready for a break. He was out of breath for reasons other than the exuberance of the dance. It did not help that every breath he took was scented with Arabella's spicy, sweet aroma. She smelled like cake and mulled cider — his favorites.

  After a pivot and a turn, Georgiana stopped playing to clap enthusiastically. "That was excellent! If you learn the other dances as quickly as this one, you will have an easy time of it at the ball."

  Tanner’s relief was brief, for Arabella struck her hands together like a schoolmistress and said, "Again."

  His torture was set to a quicker rhythm this time, and he now understood why ladies and gentlemen insisted on wearing gloves when they danced. The electric bolts jolting up his arms at Arabella's every touch melted the knot of nerves in his stomach, filling it with something infinitely worse — desire.

  Tanner did not know which direction his limbs moved, but he kept up with Arabella. He must have done well because she smiled at him.

  Georgiana increased the tempo of the music once again, and Arabella acknowledged the challenge. "Are you up for another turn, Mr. Tanner? Your sister seems to think we cannot keep up with her."

  Tanner stepped, turned, and swayed as Arabella had taught him to.

  “This is not so bad,” he said when he felt confident enough to speak whilst his feet moved.

  “How is it you never learned?” Arabella asked.

  “My mother loved to dance, and she tried to teach me. But I was an unwilling student. I suppose I never saw the point of it.” He ought not to have said that. What he did not understand as a young lad, he fully understood under Arabella’s tutelage. The closeness, the contact, the conversation. The dangerous combination made him dizzy, intoxicating him in a way no drink had ever done.

  “And now?” she asked, her lip curling up into a lopsided smile.

  “I see why she loves to dance,” he replied, trying not to blush to his ear tips.

  “Your mother would be proud. You are a graceful dancer.”

  Tanner had not noticed the decrease in tempo until Georgiana increased it again. He wished his mother were there to see him now. She would delight in Arabella’s company — just as he did.

  Arabella laughed gleefully when she had to run around him to keep up with the music. It was easy to get caught up in her happiness, and Tanner bellowed along with her as they skipped down the imaginary promenade, making it to the end, breathless with glee. It felt good. It felt happy.

  Georgiana applauded, joining in their laughter. "Well done. If you can manage that, you will be perfectly fit for the ball. Nobody will doubt you are one of us."

  "Until I step on a lady’s slipper and knock out the gentleman next to me with an ill-aimed flail of the arm," Tanner teased. He could take a thousand dance lessons and still never truly be one of them. Although, it irked him to realize he now wanted to be. Not a gentleman — no, never that — but rather, a part of their family.

  To Tanner’s consternation, the desire to belong only intensified with the passing of the week as his lessons continued and he accompanied Darcy to various clubs in an effort to learn more about Arabella’s brother, about Lord Lofton, about the circumstances surrounding Lieutenant Annesley’s death … anything to discover the meaning of Ambrose’s murder and protect the ones they loved.

  Five days came and went, and the only new information Tanner learned was the new dances Arabella and Georgiana taught him. A half dozen socially accepted ways to touch Arabella. And the conversation…. They talked about everything from horses and pistols (of which she was an unexpected authority) to politics and trade. But more often than not, they discussed their families.

  When she described the abundant love and freedom she had enjoyed in her childhood, Tanner was surprised at how many happy memories he was able to share with her about his motley family. He treasured his lessons, cherishing every second he spent in Arabella’s company all the more as they came to an end.

  Lady Templeton’s ball was upon them — an event to which Darcy had assured Tanner he would be most welcome, given the Templetons’ history — and Tanner’s final lesson was in progress in the music room. Arabella was to teach him the waltz.

  He had seen the dance before. It was not so different from the others, and a frequent request at the monthly Meryton assemblies. So Tanner was shocked when Arabella raised her arms and instructed Tanner to place one hand on her shoulder and another on her waist.

  “It is the waltz they do on the continent. It is gaining in popularity and is sufficiently distinct from the other dances, we do well to practice it here first.”

  Georgiana added, “Lady Templeton’s balls are always the latest fashion. It would not surprise me for her to be the first lady to have nerve enough to introduce the Viennese Waltz.”

  Tanner swallowed hard, nearly jumping out of his skin when the door to the music room opened and the butler stepped inside. “Mrs. Annesley, there is a Mrs. Hardcastle inquiring after you. Are you receiving callers today?”

  Tanner watched a hundred expressions cross over Arabella’s face at the news her mother had called. When the elegant, older lady was shown into the music room, rushing to Arabella’s side with open arms and eyes flooding over with tears to embrace her daughter, Tanner felt all was right in the world.

  Arabella looked happy. There was hope for her yet, and Tanner decided if there was any way to restore her to them, he would see it done.

  Chapter 12

  Mother's embrace was balm to Arabella's soul. “My Bella,” she said repeatedly, patting Arabella’s hair and kissing her cheek.

  She held her mother tightly, never wanting to let go, but finally pulling away to arm's length when she realized her mother had called for a reason and she had best find out what it was.

  Taking her by the hand and leading her to the nearest settee, Arabella asked about Ambrose's funeral.

  Mother sighed. "It was a quiet
affair. I wish you could have been there."

  Arabella felt her brother's loss intensely, but the loss of her father's affection was infinitely worse. "I admit I held a tiny flicker of hope Father would allow me to stay with you during the burial, but I must not harbor such hopes anymore, it would seem."

  Oh, how she wished Mother would refute her assumption.

  Mother squeezed Arabella's hand and implored, "Please be patient with your father."

  Mr. Tanner cleared his throat and stood, holding his arm out for Georgiana. "Let us leave mother and daughter together. They must have a great deal to discuss."

  Arabella appreciated his gesture, but the truth was she had already forgotten they were in the room, so intent had she been on her mother.

  Mother raised her hand. "No, please stay. In fact, if I might impose further on your hospitality, I should like for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy to join us if they are in. I think they will want to hear what I have to say."

  Georgiana asked, "Shall I ring for tea?" already calling for a maid.

  "Oh, no, I thank you, Miss Darcy. It is very kind of you, but I cannot stay for long." Mother bowed her head, adding, "I appreciate your family's kindness toward Arabella when her father and I ought to have been the ones to come to her aid. It breaks my heart to learn it was nothing but a misunderstanding."

  Arabella replied before her thoughts caught up to her tongue. "Would I could believe this was all merely a horrible misunderstanding. But I have Father's letter."

  Mr. Tanner's gaze shot from Mother to Arabella. "You still have his letter? The one—" He clamped his lips shut, visibly upset at himself.

  Arabella finished his sentence for him. "The one where he disinherited me? Yes, the very one."

  Mother said sharply, "You should burn the cursed thing."

  Sadness softened Arabella's voice. "I know it. But I cannot. It is all I had left of you." As hurtful as it was, she carried it with her always. Right now, it was tucked inside the bandbox of her favorite bonnet in her bedchamber.

  Mother patted her hands. "That is something I hope to change. I risk your father's anger in deceiving him to call here, but if it brings our daughter home, I will accept the consequences."

  Mother wanted her, but Father did not. "I am glad you are here," Arabella said, clenching her jaw shut to keep her chin from trembling. Better one parent than none.

  Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth joined them, looking cautiously about the room before taking their seats beside Mr. Tanner and Georgiana.

  "Thank you, Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. I am grateful for your attention," Mother said, continuing, "There is something you should know. After Ambrose's funeral, I went into his room. I missed him … and I wanted to feel close to him." She pressed her hand to her heart, looking off into her memories.

  Elizabeth said, "We are so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Hardcastle. Is there anything we can do to alleviate your grief?"

  Mother's eyes focused again. "Thank you, Mrs. Darcy. Time will heal the wounds, but I digress. I do not know what possessed me to search his possessions. Maybe I thought I would find a clue — a threatening letter written by his killer ... I do not know. But I did find something. I found these tucked behind some correspondence in a small compartment in his desk." She pulled a package of letters wrapped in a pink ribbon from her reticule and handed them to Arabella.

  "Love letters?" she asked, taking them.

  Mother shook her head. "Look at them."

  Arabella thumbed through the folded letters, not needing to open them to know what they said. She ought to remember. She had written them.

  "I do not understand. I wrote these to Father. Why did Ambrose have them?" she asked, bile stinging her throat as the only explanation possible became clear.

  Mother clasped both of her hands around Arabella's, warming them between her own. "We never received your letters, Bella. All this time, we believed you indifferent to our pleas for you to return home."

  Arabella cried out, and Mr. Tanner was quick to supply his handkerchief. No tears came, her distress laced with too much anger to spare so much as a teardrop. But Arabella pressed the linen against her face, disappointed when the comforting aromas of his kitchen were replaced by the perfumed lavender soap used in the household's wash.

  Intertwining the handkerchief around her fingers, pretending it was Tanner’s firm grip tightening around her hand, she looked through the rest of the letters. The final four envelopes were addressed to her in Father's elegant writing. Arabella rubbed her thumb over the smooth paper.

  "Keep them," Mother said. "He loves you, but he has spent the years since your elopement thinking you wanted nothing to do with us."

  "But Ambrose kept these from us. Why?" Arabella said, proud of how well she contained her voice when she wished to shout.

  "I do not know. Your father did not take the news well when I showed him. He blames himself."

  "Why would Ambrose keep us apart? Was he so desperate to be the favorite, he felt he had to dispose of me?" Arabella's composure faded fast as her scorn toward her brother intensified. How dare he! Of all the selfish, manipulative, detestable things he had ever done, this was the worst!

  "I am convinced there is a perfectly reasonable explanation," Mother justified with a calm that heaped fiery coals on top of Arabella's sense of justice. "I know Ambrose had his faults, but he had a good heart," Mother added.

  Arabella bit her tongue. She did not trust her reply when her mother's words felt like stabs in her back. She had always considered Ambrose to be self-absorbed and opportunistic. But now, Arabella was convinced of it. And, oh, how she despised him for it! Had Ambrose been alive and in the room just then, she might have been the one to shoot him. She could do it, too. She knew how to handle a pistol.

  Choosing to maintain peace in the music room rather than spout her violent thoughts aloud, Arabella changed the subject. "Have you learned anything about Ambrose's murder? Did anyone unusual show up at his burial?"

  "Only Lord Lofton and our family attended. Your father felt it best under the circumstances not to draw any unnecessary attention."

  Arabella sensed Tanner’s tension at the mention of the viscount. His intense and immediate dislike of Lofton was every bit as unjust as Ambrose keeping her away from her family. Full of vinegar and bite, she asked her mother, "Do you have any reason to suspect Lofton and Ambrose might have had a falling out?" She glared briefly at Mr. Tanner. She would make him see how unreasonable he was.

  Mother did not disappoint. "Oh, no. They were the best of friends. Inseparable," she replied.

  Arabella gloated at Mr. Tanner.

  Mother continued, "Sometimes I wish Ambrose had made other friends."

  Arabella was too stunned to reply. What was this? Did her mother just cast doubt where Arabella was convinced there was none?

  Elizabeth asked, "Why do you say that?"

  Mother picked at the embroidery on her gown. "Lord Lofton is charming and everything a gentleman ought to be. It is only ... well, I do not exactly know. It is neither wise nor kind of me to speak out of turn. I apologize."

  Arabella's mouth gaped open now.

  Mr. Darcy said, "Mrs. Hardcastle, Mr. Tanner and I have asked about Lord Lofton at various gentlemen's clubs, gambling houses, and sporting academies only to be met with silence. Even the mouths of the most infamous gossipers pinched shut at the mention of his name. If you have any insight into his character, it might help us along with our investigation."

  Arabella had been miffed to learn they had wasted their valuable time by inquiring after him when they clearly needed to concentrate their attention on Ambrose’s activities.

  Every morning of the past week, she had descended to the morning room, eager to hear the results of their findings. And every morning she was as disappointed as they were after an exhausting evening chasing after answers nobody would give. It was odd their inquiries about Lord Lofton were met with silence, but that did not make him a murderer.

  Apparently, Mother did no
t think him capable of Ambrose's murder either. "What does Lord Lofton have to do with Ambrose's death?" she asked.

  Mr. Tanner answered levelly. "We are not accusing him of pulling the trigger."

  Yet, Arabella added mentally.

  He continued, "However, we do believe he knows more than he lets on."

  Mother’s eyes widened, and she said in a whisper, "Me too, though it pains me to admit it."

  Arabella did not think she could take any more surprises. On one hand, Mother praised Lofton's gentlemanly manners, and on the other, she expressed distrust toward him? "Please explain your meaning, Mother," she asked, trying to keep the sharpness out of her tone ... and failing badly enough that Mother raised her eyebrows in warning at her.

  "I believe it is possible for Lord Lofton to withhold information to spare our family from the shame of Ambrose's true character," she said, her voice trembling.

  Arabella felt lower than her boot heel for making her sweet mother voice her disappointment in her own son aloud.

  "You think he is protecting you? That your son was involved in something ... sinister?" asked Mr. Darcy delicately.

  "What else am I left to think after finding those letters?" she answered, turning to Arabella and adding, "Did you know your father was ready to travel north to visit you? He wanted to see for himself that you were well. Ambrose convinced him not to go, saying he would go in his stead. He said he would deliver one of the letters you hold now, saying he could more easily gain the trust of your husband than an angry father with whom he had exchanged harsh words. He promised to look after you, and when he returned, he said you were happy. When I read your letters ... when your father read them ... and we learned the truth..." She spoke quickly, her breath shallow. Clutching Arabella's hands so tightly, Arabella felt her knuckles shift, Mother whispered, "Arabella, I am afraid. Ambrose would never betray all of us unless he had a very good reason for it."

  Only a loving (and blind) mother would insist on justifying his behavior despite all the evidence to the contrary. Arabella pinched her eyes shut and measured her breaths. She emphatically disagreed with her mother, but she was determined to distress her no further.