Of Gold & Blood Series 2 Books 1 & 4

by Jenny Wheeler

  He gave her another calculating look. “There is a great deal he needs to learn before he will be ready to take over the reins of Mountfort Imports, and I’m sure you understand that must be his first priority.” He paused and turned to face her. “I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings about his situation.”

  Her tongue felt as locked down as the rest of her, but she knew she had to speak. She licked her lips, cleared her throat and flashed him her best fake smile.

  “A father’s heart. I do so appreciate your concern, Mr Mountfort.” She was practically purring.

  “I’m just not sure why you don’t consider Eustace capable of working in the business as well as maintaining a family life. After all, I believe that’s exactly what you did at his age, is it not? Aunt Coco has often talked about those early years when you were establishing the business and Eustace was just a baby.”

  She smiled again. “Not that I have any ‘intentions’ as you so delicately put it. Eustace and I have been good friends for a long time, as you know. But that’s the beginning and end of it.”

  She met his implacable stare with one of bland surprise and held his gaze until he looked away and resumed the stroll.

  They walked in silence for a minute or longer, and then Mountfort spoke again. “Thank you Elanora. I find your response reassuring, I really do, because it’s my intention to broaden Eustace’s commercial experience by sending him to the West Indies for a couple of years.

  “He understands he needs to get away from his mother’s indulgence and learn a few lessons in the school of hard knocks. It will make a man of him. And I don’t consider the West Indies any place for a wife.”

  She stopped walking, withdrawing her arm from his as she halted. “I’m not sure why the Indies is ‘no place for a wife’. I imagine myriads of women raise families there. But let me assure you, it’s not on the top of my list of places to visit.”

  She drew herself up to her full five-foot-four height and glared up at him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really had better get back to the rest of my guests.”

  As she turned to stride away, she got a fleeting glimpse of the gloating satisfaction that crossed his face as he said, “Of course. Don’t let me detain you any longer.”

  His father was such an ass. Eustace Reverdy Mountfort sighed and glanced around the room for the umpteenth time to check if Elanora and William had returned. It was so typical of his father to ride roughshod over everyone else to get what he wanted. And he had a niggling sense of dread about his father’s intentions.

  The glass door from the terrace to the reception room gusted open and Elanora stood in the entry, backlit by the terrace lights, like an angel, in a frothy pink lace-trimmed dress that sat breathtakingly low on her shoulders.

  She glanced around the room and her eyes flashed as they settled on him. He knew that look. She was furious. She stood like a queen on the boundary of her realm, awaiting her retainers, and he braced himself as he stalked toward her.

  When he got closer he saw that below her fury she was deeply hurt. He melted inside. If there was one thing he hated more than any other, it was seeing her upset.

  “What is it?” He spoke softly as he stood before her. She hated public displays, he knew that, but he sensed that whatever it was that was eating at her couldn’t wait.

  She drew him to one side out of the doorway, and they sank onto a bench seat backing onto the wall. “When were you going to tell me you’re going to the West Indies for years? Is that something you just happened to overlook?”

  She was fingering a lace handkerchief and her hands were trembling. When she looked up her eyes were narrowed with pain.

  “Do I mean so little to you that you forgot to mention it?”

  Her lower lip trembled but she held her head high.

  “Oh, my darling. It’s something he’s just got a bee in his bonnet about. And I’ve been hoping either Mother or I could change his mind …” His voice trailed off into silence. He sounded so weak and indecisive, but it was so hard to stand up to William Mountfort.

  He glanced around the room, then reached out and took her hand in his. It felt like a little bird, small and fragile. “Elanora, we need a chance to talk in private. Not here. It’s important. I’ll explain —”

  He let go of her hand and glanced around the room again. He could see Elanora’s father, his mother, even her Aunt Glory, looking their way; they were starting to notice her absence. Heads were turning.

  “We can’t talk now. But we have to do it later tonight. Promise me.”

  Two

  The tip of his nose was icy as he took her in his arms and buried his face in her hair, but the rest of him was warm, so warm. She relaxed and let herself enjoy the closeness, the slightly stuffy smell of his worsted jacket and carbolic soap.

  It was the smell of Eustace, going right back to their school days, when they’d attended different schools suited to their education — him as one born to rule, her as one to reign at home — and they’d only been able to see one another during school holidays when their families met.

  With a pang she wondered if this would be one of the last days she’d be able to lean close and breathe in the tangible memory of him. He couldn’t really be going away for years, could he?

  She pulled back and patted his hair, which was damp with snowflakes. “Come into the library. It’s still warm in there. I’ve built the fire up again.”

  For the last hour of her party, she’d been barely aware of what was happening around her while playing at being the courteous, pliable birthday girl, an heiress with a modest legacy and uncertain prospects. Only a couple of hours later, and it already seemed like the party had been for someone else.

  Eustace had kept his promise and had waited down the street until the house lights dimmed and it was clear her father had been put to bed and the servants retired. Then he’d tapped softly on the library window as arranged and she’d let him in.

  She proudly gestured to the hot chocolate she’d brewed that sat cooling on a tray; if a woman’s job was to create a nurturing home, she was showing him she could excel at it.

  They’d barely sunken into the armchairs either side of the fire before she whispered urgently to him, “So tell me. What’s happening? You’re not really going away for years, are you?”

  The joy in his face drained away. The desperation of a hunted quarry took its place.

  “Elanora, I don’t know. I don’t want to go. Mother definitely doesn’t want me to go — she is totally opposed to the idea. But my father seems set on it. You know what he’s like. When he gets fixed on something he won’t let it go.”

  “So what will you do then? If he is determined on it?”

  He gazed into her eyes. The fire hissed and spat. The mantle clock chimed two. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Ellie. I just don’t know. This is what I’m born to do. To inherit the family business. I’ve never considered doing anything else. I don’t know that I’m suited to do anything else …”

  He picked nervously at a loose thread on his jacket, his eyes pleading for understanding.

  “You know I want to be able to provide well for my family — our family — and going into business with Father is undoubtedly the best way to do that.”

  Her heart lurched at the mention of the future they may not now be able to share.

  “Do you really think we can be apart for two — maybe three — years and still make it all work out?”

  The words were barely a whisper. She knew she wanted him to assure her that of course they could. And she knew in her heart of hearts she’d be a fool to believe him.

  He set his hot chocolate down and slid across to nestle on the arm of her chair. He put his arm around her neck and drew her to him, slipping in beside her as he did and drawing her onto his lap, so she was completely encircled in his arms.

  “Ellie, you are all I want. I would wait till the Last Days for you.” His voice was raw and tender. He breathed in her
ear and nibbled around the lobe. “I love you to China and back. The Indies? I think we can handle that.”

  His eyes were fervent as he gazed into her face, and then he leaned in and kissed her, gently at first and then with a building passion.

  “Will you marry me, Elanora Travers?” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her eyelids. “Marry me, please … I will have no other.” He blew gently on her face. “No other, do you hear?”

  He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and drew out a black velour-covered jeweler’s box, which he slowly opened before her. A gorgeous antique diamond ring sparkled in the firelight. “And to prove it …”

  He drew the ring from the nest of blue tissue paper and held it up for her to see. She stretched out her left hand, and he slid the precious circle onto her ring finger, caressing her palm as he did.

  When it was set in place, he took the hand tenderly between his own, turned it over and peppered the delicate skin with butterfly kisses, progressing up her arm, feathering it with his warm lips. Before she recognized what was happening, he had his hand under her skirts, and she didn’t object.

  Her dream had come true. Eustace had asked her to marry him. They were betrothed on her twenty-first birthday as she’d dreamed they would be. That meant everything was going to be just fine from now on, didn’t it?

  When she slipped to the door an hour later to send Eustace home before the household awoke, she told herself she was Mrs Eustace Mountfort in everything but name. She clung to him momentarily as he drew her close and gave her one, two, three passionate farewell kisses. How cruel that they had to be separated for even a few hours. Soon though, they would be together forever.

  As she watched Eustace’s back disappearing into the faintly purple dawn light, his head ringed with vapor clouds from his hot breath in the icy air, she shot a desperate arrow prayer heavenwards.

  Please God, help Connie make William understand.

  She and Eustace were to be together ‘till death do us part’. And as far as she was concerned, their wedding couldn’t come soon enough.

  Three

  It was the tiny two-foot-tall General Tom Thumb who turned Elanora Travers and her school friend Amelia Jackson from warm acquaintances to the sharers of a secret that Elanora wished she’d never known.

  The brilliant star of PT Barnum’s Broadway freak show stole Amelia’s heart during an indulgent afternoon spent trailing through the great showman’s American Museum, being amused by a diorama of Napoleon’s funeral and numerous other curiosities: midgets, giants, albinos, educated dogs and industrious fleas, ventriloquists and automatons.

  According to Phineas Barnum these, along with a hundred other eccentricities, were “exceedingly successful” in making his the most popular show in the city.

  Elanora might have preferred to stay and watch the fancy glass-blowing, but when Amelia set eyes on General Tom Thumb, working the stage like a lively animated doll, blond hair framing a perfectly round face, swinging his cane and mounting his tiny ‘walnut’ carriage drawn by Shetland ponies, Amelia closed off any further discussion by bursting into tears.

  And that’s when it occurred to Elanora that Amelia had been unusually quiet in the hour they’d already spent browsing the exhibit halls. She’d been far too preoccupied by the astounding events of last night in her father’s library to pay her much attention.

  She blushed at the memory of Eustace, of his hands, his mouth, and she glanced self-consciously at her left hand. It was bare, the diamond ring hidden in her dresser drawer.

  She’d promised Eustace that until he’d cleared their engagement with his father she would not speak of it to anyone, but it was a secret that burned through her skin and she imagined even singed through the bodice of her blue velvet day dress.

  Truth was, she felt strangely disconnected from her surroundings, as if her real life as Mrs Eustace Mountfort was already hidden from view, but taking form in the wings. Soon she’d step onto center stage and take up her leading role. Currently she was just a lady-in-waiting.

  Amelia snuffled a very unladylike snort into her damp shoulder, and she dropped back down to earth with a thump. “Amelia … Amelia. What is it? Don’t be so upset. There’s nothing to cry about.”

  She stroked her friend’s hair consolingly. The General had returned to the stage in country yokel overalls to sing a selection of patriotic songs in a high sweet voice.

  Amelia gave a violent shake of her head and hissed back. “You don’t know. You’ve no idea.” Her body shook with suppressed sobbing.

  Right. Elanora glanced around her, thankful to see no one in the hundred-strong audience seemed in the least interested in their mini drama. All eyes were riveted on General Tom, their whispers drowned out by thunderous applause.

  She made a snap decision. “Let’s find somewhere quiet for you to recover. Come on.” She drew her arm around her friend’s neck and cossetted her out of the gallery, their heads hanging close together like two young women exchanging girlish secrets. The looming arched entryway of St Paul’s chapel beckoned from across the street.

  What better place for private confessions than a church? In a few minutes they’d dodged the carriages and crowds that were a perpetual feature of this section of Broadway and were nestled on a back bench in sacred peace of the old church.

  “There we are. Now take a deep breath. Dry your eyes and tell me what’s wrong.”

  She gave her friend a sympathetic smile and sat back and waited.

  “You won’t understand. You’ll think I’m terrible.” Tears welled up in Amelia’s eyes and spilled over to run silently down her cheeks. Her friend’s normally bright expression was slack, her eyes wet and dull.

  Elanora took one of her hands and squeezed it. “No, I won’t. We all do silly things sometimes. I’m sure it’s nothing too awful.”

  Amelia regarded her in fearful silence. “No one does something this awful.”

  “Why did General Tom set you off so? He’s a very successful performer — and they say a very wealthy young man. What’s so sad about that?”

  Amelia gave a deep shuddering sigh. “You don’t understand. It’s what he reminds me of … that sweet baby face …”

  Elanora’s heart was clutched by a sudden. impossible, icy thought. “Amelia, you’re not … you’re not in the family way, are you?”

  She needed no words of confirmation. Amelia covered her face in her hands and talked through her fingers in heaving sobs. Elanora only heard incoherent snatches. “I don’t know … No one to turn to … I can’t believe … this mess.”

  Elanora drew a fresh, neatly ironed handkerchief out of her purse and pushed it gently into Amelia’s hands. “It’s not the end of the world. He’ll just have to marry you, that’s all.”

  Amelia burst into the loudest wailing yet. “I can’t … I can’t do that. He’s already married.”

  “Oh, you poor girl. You poor, poor girl.” She drew her friend to her shoulder and let her sob herself to quiet exhaustion. Then she patted her cheeks dry and stroked her arms. “Come on, Amelia. There must be something we can do. Has he got means?

  “The least he can do is ensure you can go somewhere nice and quiet till your confinement. Well, you know what I mean. No, now, don’t start crying again. That won’t get you anything except a blotchy puffed-up face.”

  Amelia’s throat caught in a hiccupping laugh. Elanora goaded her friend on. “We couldn’t have that now, could we?” Their wan laughter echoed around the stone chamber. “Shhhsshhh.” The silly admonition — often used by the French teacher at their private girl’s school — set them off in fresh giggles.

  “Good. Now you’re feeling better, let’s work out a plan. Firstly, honor bound, tell me who this cad is. I promise I won’t …”

  Before the sentence was out, Amelia was shaking her head violently and looking like she’d burst into fresh tears. “Elanora I can’t …”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes, of course you can. You didn’t get
to this place alone.” Elanora’s voice was bossy and decisive. “He has responsibilities.”

  Amelia looked at her speculatively. “You’re not going to like it.”

  For a fraction of a second, she thought of Eustace, and then just as instantly realized he wasn’t married. Yet. She let out a long sigh of relief.

  “Honestly, Amelia, I have no particular allegiances. Don’t be afraid.”

  Amelia gazed at her for a long, considering moment.

  “Alright then.”

  She glanced around her as if checking for eavesdroppers and then leaned very close to her ear and whispered, “It’s your paramour’s father. William Perrin Mountfort.”

  Four

  His mother did not look well. Constanza sat at one end of the gleaming walnut dining table in a burnt orange gown which drained the color from her sallow complexion and left her looking tired and depleted. The mesh of fine wrinkles that hugged her eyes did not look like laughter lines — although when she was in good spirits, Connie laughed a lot.

  Eustace fiddled with the silver knife at his elbow and restrained himself from glancing to the door, where he anticipated at any minute Elanora would be ushered in, pushing her father ahead of her.

  His heart beat a tattoo in his chest whenever he allowed himself to savor the thought, the taste, of her and of the passionate connection they’d shared two nights ago. He adored her, desired her body, soul and spirit.

  And although he’d given her his troth, he had no idea how he was going to keep it, how he was going to circumvent his father’s determination to send him off to Purgatory. Otherwise known as Barbados.

  That’s why his mother’s downcast mood rattled him more than usual. Connie had always been his protector against his father’s unbending will. Many a time she had stepped in and mediated William’s harsh excesses, placated his insistence that the hard way was the only way.

  However, since his twenty-first birthday nearly three years ago, Connie’s moderating influence had waned. William had stopped taking notice of her, and he sensed his father was not going to be swayed from his determination to put him on the next boat out of New York, no matter how strongly his mother opposed the idea.