Authors: Raven McAllan
Chapter Nine
It
was cruel to tease her so, but oh how he loved to see the expression of wary
confusion on her face. When he’d finally extracted himself from her grasp, it
had been at the expense of his jacket and the now empty brandy bottle. Thom had
managed to tug the blankets from under her and cover her up, and then he’d sat
next to her for several long minutes, loath to leave in case she became ill.
Not that less than a glass of brandy should affect her too much, but it seemed
to him that perhaps Sybille didn’t have a head for alcohol.
She
mumbled under her breath and he leaned in to hear her say something about ‘wish
he was’ and then ‘love’.
“What
do you wish? What about love?” He couldn’t help but ask. Her reply was a sigh.
That
was all she said. Thom settled next to her until the household began to stir.
He had no option then but to creep away, and once home send the message that he
would call for her and take her for a drive.
Now
as he watched the color come back into her face, he chuckled. “Sybille what
do
you remember?”
“Time
to ‘fess up. Very little I’m afraid. I told you about the pearls and Bankfoot,
and I ah, tried brandy.”
“You
also caused me to walk home coatless. The watch gave me a very strange look.
Luckily it was dawn, and I suspect all he wanted was to clock off and go to bed.
Like me, alone.” Thom slowed his horses. “This park is too busy to talk and
there is no way I can visit you again like last night.”
“Why
not? There’s no more brandy.”
“It’s
not the brandy I’m worried about. It’s the way we react to each other. Dammit,
Sybille.” He decided to throw caution to the wind. Maybe he could shock her
into admitting what else she wanted. “You say you don’t know me, but apart from
me deflowering you, what else do you need?”
Her
eyes widened and her color ebbed and flowed. She swallowed several times and
cleared her throat. “Everything. I want that.” Her voice was so low he hardly
heard her words.
“Pardon,
you want me to…?”
She
nodded. “Well maybe not everything but what if I repulse you? After all if you
didn’t…?”
“I
didn’t. But not because I had no interest. Seducing brandy-fueled women is not
to my taste. When, note I say when, not if, I take you, I want you aware and
participating. Now think about that while we converse with your parents.” Thom
drew the curricle to a halt next to Theo’s and studiously ignored the dumbfounded
look on Sybille's face.
Mijo
of course had no such qualms.
“Sybille
what ails you? I told you not to touch the fish.” She leaned over and felt her
daughter’s forehead. “You’re not feverish. Are you liverish? Do you need a
powder?”
“No,
Maman, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well.”
“Ah.”
Mijo nodded. “I understand.”
Thom hoped to hell she didn’t. He sat
impassively while Mijo gave him a searching glance.
“Tonight
we will dine
en famille
. Thomas, you
will attend.” It wasn’t a question.
Mijo
turned to Theo who so far hadn’t said a word. He raised one eyebrow. “Ma belle?”
“We
must go and warn the chef. Drive on.”
Theo
laughed. “As ever, your wish is my command.”
Mijo snorted. “Pah. Thomas put color into my
daughter’s cheeks. We will see you at eight.”
They
drove off. Thom looked at Sybille. “Now, how shall I put color into your cheeks,
eh?”
She put her hands to her cheeks. “I must
apologize for my maman. She is oh so French, and thinks it’s a parent’s job to
meddle.”
“She
is my champion. And talking of champions, there’s Bankfoot approaching. Let me
do the talking.”
“It
will be my pleasure, I assure you,” Sybille said. “If I never have to address him
again it will be too soon. Repulsive man.”
Bankfoot
reached them and ignored Thom. He held his hand toward Sybille. It was, Thom
thought, remarkably ugly, and claw-like. Almost as if it were a talon about to
shred prey.
“My
dear Lady Sybille.” Bankfoot was unctuous.
Thom
understood that it was no wonder Sybille sought his, Thom’s, protection.
“Let
me accompany you for a stroll.” Bankfoot ignored Thom. That in itself could be
social suicide if it were made known. Almost Thom was tempted.
Sybille
gasped and shrank toward Thom. However her voice was calm and clear and Thom
was sure Bankfoot wouldn’t notice the faint tremor that rippled through
Sybille. If she hadn’t been pressed to his side, he wouldn’t.
“I
think not, my lord. I do not prescribe to the idea that it is acceptable to
leave one companion to accompany another. I’m very happy where I am.”
“Really?
I wonder at that, under the circumstances.” The menace was noticeable. “I trust
you’ll be available to me tomorrow.”
“I
wouldn’t trust it if I were you, old boy.” Thom was deliberately obnoxious. “The
lady will be busy. Now excuse us.” He cracked his whip. Although it wasn’t
directed at Bankfoot, the man took several steps backward and clenched his
hands into fists.
“You‘ll
regret this, both of you.” He turned on his heel and marched off, his back
ramrod straight and temper showing in every step.
“What
have we done?” Sybille almost cried. “He will challenge us, I know it. We’re
ruined.”
Thom
put one hand over hers. Her skin was clammy. “Sybille, it
has
to be done, and you are
not
ruined, far from it. I have a plan. We’ll talk about it tonight. If we can
speak alone with your parents.”
Sybille took a deep breath. “Forgive me for
being such a pathetic watering pot. I hate being so weak-willed and wishy-washy.”
“It’s
the brandy.”
“It
is not the brandy,” she said and then grinned. “Not now. It's him. Bankfoot. He
makes my skin crawl. Do you really have a plan? One that will work?”
“It’ll
work. Whether you’ll like it, or agree, remains to be seen.”
“Why
am I apprehensive?”
Thom
shrugged. Sybille’s spine itched.
****
That
niggly itch still attacked her spine several hours later as she waited in the
drawing room for the rest of the family to join her. However, Sybille decided
to be philosophical. They couldn’t actually force her to do something she’d
hate, and she was certain they wouldn’t. Even though Mijo was a superb
manipulator, she would never expect any of her children to do anything they truly
felt was repugnant. She might nudge, suggest and do everything to show the
benefits of what was offered, so in the end the recipient of her advice found
themselves doing whatever it was they hadn’t expected to. However she accepted
when her desire didn’t mesh with another person’s and would retire with
good-ish grace.
The
problem here, Sybille knew, was within herself.
Over
the last few weeks, Sybille had taken a long hard look at herself and her
attitude and she hadn’t entirely been happy with what she saw. She’d behaved
like a pathetic child at times. Oh, she knew she couldn’t keep her worry about
Bankfoot at bay, and had no option but to own up and accept help to get out of
the predicament she’d found herself in, but she could also grow up and
acknowledge what she wanted.
Thom.
But
not yet, not until…
“My
Lord Jeavons, My Lady.” Stubbs, the longest serving member of their household,
broke into her reverie as he intoned the words. He spoiled his serious demeanor
by winking. Not what you’d expect of an old and valued retainer who was a
stickler for etiquette and punctiliousness. However it was hard for him to see
Sybille or Marielle as adults. He was closer to the twins than any other member
of the family. As a young footman, he’d given them pony rides on his back,
taught them how to treat servants correctly, kept quiet when they crept out to
go to a masked ball—although he’d accompanied them—and generally watched their
backs. He was Sybille thought, their champion. Now married to Maybelle, her
personal maid, she doubted there were many secrets he or Maybelle were not privy
to, especially hers.
“Ah,
perhaps you could let his lordship know that Maybelle arranged for a certain
garment to be cleaned and returned to his household? So kind of him to lend it
to you. Oh and the bottle was discarded.” Stubbs stood straight-faced, and
rubbed the side of his nose.
Sybille
sighed and smiled. “Thank you.”
“My
pleasure.” Stubbs stood to one side as Thom entered the room, took Sybille’s
hand and bowed over it. With a knowing look toward Sybille, Stubbs then nodded
briefly, bowed and retreated smartly.
Thom
glanced at the closing door without releasing her hand. “Was it something I
said, did, or does he have an aversion to my tailoring?”
Sybille
giggled. Thom was now stroking her palm with one finger and the smooth sweep
over her skin heated it rather nicely. It was difficult to formulate her
thoughts let alone speak them. How could such a simple thing cause so much
turmoil in her?
“Ah,
that is Stubbs being subtle and giving us a few moments alone before the hordes
enter. Plus letting you know his wife found your jacket.”
“I
wondered how you got it back to me so easily. Did it cause problems?”
She
shook her head. “I forgot I’d hidden it under the bedclothes with the empty
bottle. Stubbs is married to Maybelle, my maid, who will have found it.” The
jacket and bottle had totally gone out of her head. “They will have tutted,
nodded sagely, and I hope given me the benefit of the doubt.” She paused and
collected her thoughts. It was so hard to unscramble her mind while he was so
close and touched her in such an intimate manner.
“My
lord—Thom—I have to own up to thinking long and hard about our conversations
and your request.”
He
raised one eyebrow. How she wished she had that skill. It could be used as an
invitation or a put down. This time she fervently hoped it was the former.
“That’s
good to hear.” He tucked her arm in his.
As
much as it brought their bodies closer, Sybille missed that arousing caress of
her hand. He glanced down at her and smiled. “Later.”
Later what?
“Do
you intend to share your ruminations or shall we play ‘Ask a Question’?”
“I
think.” The door opened and her parents entered. Sybille inwardly groaned. She’d
hoped to be able to let Thom know her feelings before she was asked openly.
“Ah,
you’re here. Good, I’m famished,” Mijo said as Thom bowed over her hand and
exchanged greetings with her and Theo. “We can eat.”
We can?
“Ma
belle, you ate a plate of fancies not an hour since,” Theo said. “I managed but
one before they vanished.”
“Theo,
do not lie. I saw you sneak two when you thought I was otherwise occupied.”
He
grinned. “Caught out. You are too sharp for me.”
“Of
course, I…”
“Am
French,” Theo and Sybille said together.
“Oui.
Now let us eat.”
“The
others?” Sybille said.
“Others?”
Mijo sounded as if she had no more children. “Oh, the others. They are all busy
elsewhere. It’s just us, so we can be cozy and talk without interference.”
That
was something Sybille was concerned about. Mijo without someone to rein her in
was worrying.
Chapter Ten
Thom
was hard pressed not to laugh at the dismayed expression on Sybille’s face. He
understood her consternation. Mijo in full spate was a force to be reckoned
with. However, he decided, as he escorted Sybille into the dining room—“we won’t
stand on ceremony,” Mijo had declared. “I will let my husband take me into
dinner, and you can then give your attention to Sybille”—he would go with the
flow of her intentions until such time as they didn’t suit him.
For
the most part they talked of trivialities. Who was where and why. Who looked to
be on the verge of offering for whom. How Lady Ackerson had surprised her
husband with a flower girl, and now Lord Ackerson sported a black eye. Lady
Caroline Lamb’s latest antics. Silly, trivial, gossipy things that were
innocuous to speak of in front of the servants.
“My
love, do you wish for you and Thomas to pass the port here? Or shall we all
adjourn to my private sitting room, and be cozy there?” Mijo asked as the last
dish was emptied. “I had the Tantalus filled in readiness.”
“How
does Maman get to call you Thomas when I can’t?” Sybille said in a low voice. “I
meant to ask before.”
“She
scares me,” Thom replied promptly, as Theo decided with Thom‘s agreement they
would all go to Mijo’s sitting room.
“And
I don’t? Cofound it,” Sybille said as Thom held her chair out to enable her to
rise.
By the look on her face, she didn’t
believe his protestation for one minute. “I must practice harder.”
“At
what?” Mijo caught her last words.
“Being
like you, Maman.”
Thom
bit back a grin. Another Mijo would be one too many. “Your maman is one in her
own right.”
“True
enough, I’ll be Sybille who endorses Maman’s ideas.”
That
wasn’t a lot better.
“No,
you will be Sybille with her own ideas,” Mijo said as they entered her sitting
room, and she waved them to seat. “Sybille, once you serve your papa and Thomas
with what they prefer, you sit on that chaise with Thomas. I will sit next to
my husband. And have wine.”
“Obvious,
is she not?” Sybille muttered. “I’m sorry.”
Thom
patted her bottom surreptitiously, as she turned to nod to her maman. “I’m not.”
He loved her flounce and flustered look as she swished her skirts. The green
and cream silk suited her admirably. The soft draped neckline enhanced the
gentle swell of her breasts, and beckoned to him.
One day.
“You
said something?” Sybille enquired as she handed him a glass of port, and took
up what looked to him like watered wine.
“No
brandy?”
“Coward,”
Sybille muttered.
“Of
course,” he replied out of the corner of his mouth. He noticed Mijo watching
the exchange with interest, and perhaps a shade of alarm in her expression. He
smiled to reassure her and saw her relax. Bless Mijo, she so wanted Sybille to
desire him for all the right reasons.
“You
would prefer brandy?” Theo asked. “We have some of course. Mijo would never
forgive me if we were unable to offer her national spirit. I thought, however,
immediately after a meal…”
Thom
nodded as Sybille paled. “You are perfectly correct. I was merely wondering if
you preferred it?”
“Later.”
“Much
later,” Sybille muttered as she sat next to him and took a sip of her drink. “So,
let’s not prevaricate please. I feel as if the axe is about to descend.”
“You
don’t,” Mijo said. “But for some reason you are worried about something, and
therefore it worries me. Time to open up. Tell us the all.”
Thom
looked at Sybille in enquiry. “Over to you, my dear. This is your story not
mine.”
“Ah.”
Mijo frowned. “I had thought perhaps you both had the same story to tell?” A
betrothal, her tone intimated.
Thom
laughed. “Sadly, not yet.”
“Maman,
stop it,” Sybille said sternly. “If, and I reiterate
if,
we have anything to tell you at any point we will. But
remember, I am your daughter. Who taught me to be stubborn and stick to my
guns?”
Theo
gave a bark of laughter. “She has you there, ma cherie. So Sybille, what is
worrying you?”
“Mama’s
pearls,” Sybille said baldy.
Thom
looked from Theo to Mijo. Both seemed somewhat shocked and all the color had leeched
from Mijo’s skin as she clutched Theo’s arm and leaned forward.
“M…my
pearls?”
“Oh
Maman, yes, your pearls. Where are they?”
Mijo
visibly collected her wits together. “Being restrung, I told you.”
“Oh,
Maman.”
Sybille
looked toward Thom with a pleading expression. He couldn’t resist it.
“Mijo,
Theo, We have a problem. Sybille also knows the pearls are false. No, hear me
out.” He peremptorily cut off Theo’s
what?
“That in itself is not a problem. The problem regards their present location.
Who did you give them to for restringing, if indeed you have done so?”
“Of
course I have done so,” Mijo said. “The string broke. It is expected I wear
them.”
“But
Maman, they’re fake. You can’t let a jeweler have them. Good grief, Rundle and
Bridge would crucify you if you let them believe them real.” Sybille jumped up
and began to pace. “What now?”
“Do
you think me that stupid? Of course I didn’t send them to Rundle and Bridge. I
sent them to Mr. Sandeman where I got them from.”
“I’m
not sure that’s any better,” Sybille said. “Who is he?”
“The
man who copied my original string. And the man who thought I had them copied
for my daughters to practice their deportment in.” Mijo sat back in her chair,
a satisfied smile on her face.
“So
where are the real pearls?”
Mijo
bit her lip and looked at Theo. He shrugged and shook his head.
“I
do not know,” Mijo said as the silence lengthened to discomfort. “They were
sold to pay for Dare to go to Oxford.” Her tone dared anyone to challenge her
statement.
Thom
shot her a strange look. She sighed and nodded. “As you wish.”
“I
have them,” he said. “And maybe now you
will
accept my offer to lend you them so you can wear the damned things.”
“You?”
Sybille recoiled and leaned on the window frame. “You?” She slammed her palm
onto the side table so hard the trinkets on it rattled together. “You let me
tell you my problems and said nothing? How could you?”
“It‘s
not my story to tell,” Thom said evenly. “I only spoke of it now, so you wouldn’t
think you have to try and trace them as well.”
“Therefore
it
is
now your story to tell.”
Sybille’s voice rose. Thom could almost see steam rising from her. Her anger
was a living, breathing thing. It fascinated him, even though he knew it was up
to him to defuse it. “Tell me or you can forget about a favorable answer to
your offer.”
“Sybille,
do not castigate poor Thomas. It is up to me to tell you,” Mijo said. “Your
papa knew nothing until after the events, and Thom was my savior. Without him,
we wouldn’t be here. Perhaps not even at Birch Hall. Now sit down and listen.”
Thom
had never heard that strict, but at the same time almost indifferent tone come
from Mijo, and judging by Sybille’s gasp, neither had she. She moved back to
the chaise and sat down abruptly next to him. He squeezed her hand and her
tremors ran from her to him. The shocks and surprises weren’t over yet. She
shot him a grateful glance and relaxed next to him, her leg warm by his thigh.
“As
you know, money has always been tight,” Sybille said. “By the time Dare was due
to go to Oxford it was very tight. Your papa had and still does work wonders,
but we needed a little more. My pearls were of the finest quality, and I knew
that any monies raised would pay for Dare’s studies. So I took them to be
valued, as I said just so I knew, and then decided to pawn them. Thom came
across me outside the pawnshop, and dragged the story from me. The upshot was
he bought the pearls and helped me arrange the fake string.”
“You
did?” Sybille stared at him with tears in her eyes. Thom gave into temptation
and wiped them away with his thumb.
“I
did.”
“But
why?”
“I
hoped your maman would continue to wear them, until such time as she could have
them back. She wouldn’t, so I helped her arrange the fake string. It will pass
muster unless it goes to someone like Rundle and Bridge.”
“Or
someone like Bankfoot finds out about them?”
“Or
that.”
“How
did he find out?” Sybille said.
“I
know,” Mijo said. “Or I think I do. When I broke them, at Daisy Arthur‘s
picnic, I took them to Sandeman. After all, he’d sorted them in the first
place. However, as I now remember, as I came out of Sandeman’s a man very similar
to Bankfoot was walking toward me. I only got a glimpse but I swear it was he and
he went into the shop after I left.”
“I’ll
check it out,” Thom said.
“We’ll
check it out,” Sybille retorted. “Together.”
“Sybille
it’s not Hatton Garden,” Thom tried for a level, reasonable tone. “It’s a shop
that sells cheap jewelry and copies things.”
“Then all I can say is it’s no wonder Bankfoot
was there. It’s about his level. Sorry Maman, you know what I mean.”
Mijo
laughed. “Oh yes, he is a man I would not trust as far as I can throw him, and
me, I have a very bad throwing arm. So what will you do Thomas?”
“See
if I can find out why he was there. I’ll go tomorrow.”
“We
will go,” Sybille said firmly. “Together. You can pretend you‘re buying me a
bracelet or something.”
“Or
a copy of your betrothal ring?”
He
waited.