Joan Wolf (9 page)

“The ever good-natured Mrs. Sprague,” he said, returning my smile. “She never minded us underfoot in her kitchen.”

“You
always got the biggest muffin,” I reminded him. “Stephen and I used to think it was unfair.”

“It was my house,” Jasper said.

The dogs, realizing their game was over, proceeded to give themselves a thorough shake. Jasper and I backed away from the shower of drops. “Let’s walk to the fishing pavilion,” I said.

We began to stroll along the shoreline, with the dogs racing ahead of us.” Remember the summer of the Club ? “ Jasper asked suddenly.

The “Club” he was referring to was started by Gerald two summers after I came to Weston. Gerald had heard his father talking about “his club” in London (the earl belonged to White’s) and had decided to emulate his papa and start his own exclusive club in Weston. He enrolled himself, Jack, Stephen, and Jasper as members and got my mother to allow him to use one of the empty bedrooms as his clubhouse.

I had been furious that he wouldn’t allow Nell or me to join.

“Females do not belong to clubs,” Gerald had declared with all the lofty arrogance of the spoiled young adolescent male.

“Fine,” I had replied with hauteur. “Nell and I will have our own club, and
you
can’t join.”

I had recruited Susan Fenton (she hadn’t been Fenton then, of course) and Alice Thornton (the daughter of the earl’s wealthiest tenant), and we had adopted the fishing pavilion as our headquarters.

All summer long the two clubs had vied with each other, each trying to demonstrate that it was having more fun than the rival club. Escapade had followed escapade. The boys jumped from the top of a barn roof into a hayrick. The girls made a raft out of some lumber we roped together and rode it out into the middle of the lake. The boys spent the night in the village graveyard. The girls “borrowed” one of Susan’s father’s wagons, and I daringly drove it into the village, right under the boys’ noses. I had been ten years old.

“It was a miracle that none of us got hurt,” I said now to Jasper. “When I think that someday Giles might do some of those things, my blood runs cold.”

He laughed. “It was so much fun, though. I can still remember the four of us, huddled in that bedroom, plotting our little hearts out. And no matter what we came up with, you always managed to top it.”

I grinned. “It
was
fun.”

“The bonfire was our best effort, I thought,” Jasper said.

“I liked our ghost impersonation best,” I returned.

Jasper ran a hand through his hair. “I used to think of that summer when I was in Spain,” he said. “In the early morning, waiting for a battle to begin, I would go over it in my mind. It was my talisman, my good-luck memory.”

I felt sadness descend on me like a cloak. “We have all come so far since that summer,” I said. “You have been to war. Stephen was sent to Jamaica. And Gerald is... dead.”

Jasper slowly shook his head. “I still can’t quite believe that he is gone, Annabelle. Not Gerald—the sun child, the golden boy. Everything the rest of us wanted came pouring into his lap.” He was walking with bent head, his eyes fixed on the ground under his feet. “Somehow one always thought that Gerald would live forever.”

I tried for a lighter note. “At least you and Stephen are safely home.”

He gave me a look that I couldn’t read. “Yes,” he said. “Frankly, I was surprised that Gerald named Stephen to be Giles’s guardian. He and Stephen were hardly close.”

I shrugged. We had rounded a small clump of trees, and the fishing pavilion came into sight. Portia and Merlin began to race each other to see who could get there first.

I said, “There is other good news. Jack has recently won quite a large sum of money, and, as I am sure you must have heard, Nell has had four offers of marriage.”

At that he grinned. “I’ve heard something about them,” he said.

We both laughed.

“There’s someone at the pavilion,” Jasper said.

The dogs were barking and yipping. Then a small figure was running across the grass toward us.

“Mama!” Giles called. “I catched another fish!”

He barreled into me, and I staggered a little under the onslaught of his weight.

“Caught, not catched, Giles,” I said.

Jasper caught my arm and steadied me. “Whoa there, youngster. You almost knocked your mother down.”

“Sorry, Mama,” Giles said. He beamed up at me, his light gray green eyes shining, as they did when he was happy. “Uncle Stephen and Genie didn’t catch anything, but I did!”

I looked over at the pavilion, which was nothing more than a summer house with a single interior room surrounded by a roofed porch. A man and a woman were standing on the steps of the porch, watching us. The dogs raced from the pavilion back to me, and the man and woman descended the steps and waited for us in front of the pavilion.

“Good afternoon,” Jasper said to Stephen and Miss Stedham as we came up to them. “I’m sorry to hear that you didn’t catch any fish.”

Miss Stedham laughed. She looked very lovely in a straw sunshade and a lavender muslin dress. “Giles seems to have a special talent for fishing,” she said.

Giles laughed gleefully.

Portia had returned to Stephen and was sitting at his feet, looking up at him. Like Jasper, he had taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves in the heat. He was taller than Jasper and thinner, and his face and throat and forearms looked very dark against the white of his shirt.

“I told Uncle Stephen about that man we met this morning, Mama,” Giles said.

I put my hand on my son’s shoulder. “Yes, Jem Washburn is back, Stephen,” I said coolly. “His father died this morning.”

“I already
told
him that, Mama,” Giles said with annoyance.

Both Stephen and Jasper looked at Giles, obviously startled by his tone of voice. My fingers tightened on his shoulder. If I wanted to spoil my son, it was my business and no one else’s.

“Jem said that if you didn’t wish to see him, he would understand.” My own voice had gone from cool to cold.

Giles looked up at me uneasily, and I forced my fingers to relax on his shoulder. I gave him a reassuring smile.

“Why would he think you wouldn’t want to see him?” Jasper asked Stephen. “The two of you were always such great friends.”

Stephen shook his head in professed bewilderment. “I can’t imagine why he would say such a thing.”

I could imagine very well, but I said nothing.

“I don’t know if you heard, but shortly after you left for Jamaica, Jem ran away from home,” Jasper told Stephen. “We heard nothing of him until a few months ago, when he suddenly came back. He must have heard that his father was dying.”

Stephen’s expression was totally detached. He nodded.

“He paid my father the overdue farm rent,” Jasper said.

That caught everyone’s attention.

“Jem
paid the rent?” I asked.

“So my father said—two quarters’ worth. He asked Jem what he had been doing these last few years, but Jem’s reply was evasive.”

“Susan Felton told me that he wanted to take over the farm,” I said abruptly.

Jasper nodded. “That is what he told my father.”

Giles shuffled his feet, impatient with a conversation in which he was not included.

Stephen said, “Well, if Jem wants the farm, then of course he must have it.”

“Of course he must,” I said.

This time everyone looked at me.

“Don’t you
like
Jem Washburn, Mama?” Giles asked anxiously.

In fact, I disliked Jem Washburn intensely.

“I never think about him,” I said. “Now, where is that fish you caught, Giles? I want to see it.”

He was instantly distracted. “It’s in the bucket, Mama!” He grabbed my hand and began to drag me forward. “Come and see!”

We all were happy to have something else to talk about, and even Giles was satisfied that he had received enough credit for catching his fish.

The fishing party gathered up its equipment and we all walked back to the house together, Stephen carrying the poles and Giles carrying his fish. My son surprised me by choosing to walk between Stephen and Miss Stedham and not with Jasper and me.

Jasper and I and the dogs went first, and we both were silent as we listened to the conversation being conducted behind us.

It was actually more of an inquisition than a conversation, with Giles asking Stephen relentless question after relentless question, most of them starting with the words “Uncle Stephen, did you ever...”

Stephen answered all the questions with a patience that was truly heroic.

The gravel path crunched under my shoes, and Jasper’s arm brushed lightly against mine. Lawn and trees stretched away on either side of us. A small group of deer were standing in the shade of a clump of magnificent chestnuts, and behind them, in the distance, one could just make out the stone building that was the old bathhouse.

Behind us Miss Stedham said gently, “Giles, it is not good manners to monopolize the conversation.”

“Oh,” said Giles. Then, charmingly, “If you want to ask Uncle Stephen some questions, Genie, you can.”

The sound of Stephen’s low chuckle caused the muscles in my abdomen to tighten. The sun was hot on my head and shoulders, and I could feel beads of moisture forming on my upper lip.

Stephen said, “Go ahead, Miss Stedham. Ask me.”

I could hear the smile in her voice as she answered, “To be truthful, I should very much like to hear about my brother, Mr. Grandville. I have not seen him in six years, you know.”

Stephen said, “What would you like to know?”

The deer left the shade of the chestnuts and began to flow over the grass, grazing with delicate particularity.

“I would like to know if he is going to find himself unemployed shortly,” Miss Stedham said bluntly. “His letters have been painting an increasingly gloomy picture of the Jamaican economy.”

“Unfortunately, it is true that, economically, things are not good in Jamaica, Miss Stedham,” Stephen said.

“That is what I keep hearing. But what does ‘not good’ really mean? “ Miss Stedham asked. I heard the tension in her voice and for the first time realized that she was genuinely worried about her brother losing his position.

Stephen said, “I’ll give you an example. My own family’s plantation, which made a twelve percent profit during the late 1700s, was barely meeting operating costs when I went out there five years ago. And Westover was always one of the most profitable plantations on the island.”

Jasper whistled. He turned his head and asked, “What was the situation when you left, Stephen? The same? Or worse? “

“I got out of the sugar business,” Stephen said. “Remember?”

Jasper grunted. “That’s right.”

“It’s worse for everyone else, though,” Stephen said.

I stuck my tongue out and licked away the perspiration on my upper lip. It tasted salty. I glanced sideways and caught Jasper staring at me. He looked away immediately.

Stephen was going on, “Since the turn of the century, over a hundred estates have been given up in Jamaica for unmet debts, and suits are now pending against one hundred and fifteen others.” He paused and his voice gentled. “I am afraid that one of those estates is Lord Northrup’s, Miss Stedham.”

I knew that gentle voice. I pressed my lips together hard and stared intently at the gravel under my feet.

Miss Stedham said in a low voice, “That is what I feared.”

Jasper turned his head again and said, “But won’t the end of the war help the sugar planters, Stephen? Now that Napoleon is defeated, the whole continent is once more an open market.”

“It will undoubtedly help the planters in Cuba and Brazil, who have access to an unending supply of slaves,” Stephen said in a bitter voice. “I do not think it will help Jamaica.”

“Because Jamaica is British and so is barred from importing new slaves? “ Jasper asked.

“Yes,” said Stephen.

Giles gave up on regaining Stephen’s attention and skipped forward to take my hand. Some water sloshed over the top of his bucket, and he bent his head to check that his fish was safe.

I said over my shoulder, “Do not worry about your brother, Miss Stedham. If he finds himself without employment, Stephen will help him. Stephen always helps his friends.”

I
said this in an extraordinarily sweet voice, so I didn’t understand why everyone was suddenly staring at me. I felt myself flush and was glad that my face was shadowed by the wide brim of my hat.

Stephen said pleasantly, “In fact, Tom and I have indeed discussed a plan for his next position, Miss Stedham. I do not think you need to fear for his future.”

“That is wonderful news.” The relief in Miss Stedham’s voice was embarrassingly obvious. “Is... do you think Tom might be coming home, Mr. Grandville? “

“He will stay in Jamaica until the plantation is officially foreclosed,” Stephen said. “But I expect you will see him by Christmas, Miss Stedham.”

I turned my head to catch a glimpse of Miss Stedham’s glowing face. Stephen was smiling at her. Once more I turned my back to them. I looked up at Jasper and made some inane comment about the weather.

He answered, bless him, and we chatted away about nothing at all for the rest of the way back to the house.

Chapter Seven

I was awakened in the night by a thunderstorm. Good, I thought sleepily as I rolled over on my back. Perhaps it won’t be so hot tomorrow.

My windows had been opened as far as they could go, and the cool air of the storm was streaming into the room. I yawned, then struggled out of bed to see if the rain was wetting the draperies. When I saw that it wasn’t, I left the windows as they were and got back into bed.

The room had cooled sufficiently for me to pull the quilt up over my shoulders, and I cuddled down under it, inhaling the fresh chilly air deeply into my lungs.

Lightning flashed, followed a few seconds later by the rumble of thunder.

These days I rather liked thunderstorms, although there had been a time when I had been afraid of them.

The room was filled with the sharp, distinct smell that a thunderstorm always brings. I snuggled my head into my pillow, closed my eyes, and let the smell carry me back over the years.