The Marriage Market (22 page)

The Larkes had added the conservatory to the side of the house, and it was accessed by the first floor hallway.  James let himself in and discovered that it was quite dusky inside with only a lantern lit here and there for illumination.  The plants were divided into sections according to genus, with aisles leading between them.  James strolled past gigantic ferns and delicate hothouse blooms, enjoying the moist, earthy smell.  He paused to enjoy the scent of a purple orchid and, straightening, observed Edward and Patricia walking arm and arm ahead of him.  He was about to call to them, but stopped when he saw Patricia draw Edward to her.  She gazed at him for a moment, and then raised a tender hand to cup his face.  The young minister smiled down at her and pulled her into his arms.  James turned and crept back the way he had come.  He waited out of sight for a few moments, coughed loudly, and came whistling around the corner.  The couple stood waiting for him, hand in hand.

“Hello you two.  I don’t mean to disturb you, but the night is growing late and I must take my leave.  Mr. Brook, I am delighted to meet you, and I look forward to becoming better acquainted with you.”  James held out his hand and Edward shook it.

“Patricia,” James said, turning to her, “you have never looked happier or more beautiful than you do tonight.  Obviously, love becomes you.”

“Thank you, James,” she responded.  “I have never felt happier or more blessed.”

“How wonderful, my dear,” he said, kissing her cheek.  He turned to go, and then turned back again.  “By the way, your mother says to send Mr. Brook home while the rain still holds off.”

Patricia smiled and said, “Tell Mother we will be in directly.”

“I will.  Goodnight.”  James left the greenhouse, bid goodnight to the older Larkes, and allowed the butler to show him out. 

James walked briskly back to his lodging through the nippy night and let himself in with his latch key.  He climbed the stairs to his bedchamber and removed his coat and boots before pouring himself a brandy.  Lighting a fire in the hearth, he settled into a comfortable chair and stared into the flames. 

His thoughts drifted back to the newly-engaged couple and their plans.  They were both younger than he, and yet they were ready to join their lives together and devote themselves to Edward’s ministry.  James remembered their embrace in the conservatory and the look of pure bliss on the young man’s face as he held Patricia in his arms.  James wondered if his face had ever held that expression.  He thought back to earlier romances.  There had been several dalliances, but nothing serious.  His father’s advice on women had been to conduct himself like a gentleman and to be careful of the girl’s reputation.  He had not, however, given James any instruction on matters of the heart. 

Unfortunately, there had been no feminine hand in James’ upbringing.  His mother had never been strong and had spent a great deal of time in her room.  With his father away tending to business, James had often been left to his own devices.  When his mother died while he was still a boy, he had been sent away to school.

Victoria had stirred feelings in him stronger than in any of his previous infatuations.  His attraction for her had been spurred by a good-natured competition with David at first, but then he had come to genuinely care for Victoria.  To be truthful, it had stung his pride as well as his heart when she had chosen David, but his wounded pride had evaporated when he saw how happy they were together.  He still remonstrated with himself for the stolen kiss in the carriage; that had been both unforgivable and demeaning.  Fortunately, Victoria had a generous heart and had not punished him for his stupidity.

Despite his feelings for her, Victoria was only a girl compared to Jemma.  In fact, Jemma possessed a combination of traits that made her unique from any other woman he knew.  She had a depth of spirit and grace, no doubt instilled by her father’s upbringing, yet she also possessed an air of sophistication that most sheltered people lacked.  She had endured many painful losses, yet still she retained a joyful appreciation for life.  Like many other women, she had a love of clothes and fashion, but Jemma had cultivated hers into a thriving business.

The average gentleman would probably find Jemma’s ambitions alarming, but he found them exciting.  How confident she had been in approaching the local merchants, and how he admired the way she had won them over.

His mind lingered on the night of Lady Hélène’s soirée when he had first seen Jemma in that wondrous, golden gown.  His heart had almost stopped.  Later, he had held her in his arms, and she had rested against him during the carriage ride home.  Then there had been that kiss in her garden . . . . 

He had thought himself wise in not declaring his love for her.  After all, how could he be sure that his feelings were permanent and not just another infatuation?  But he had nearly died in her lovely garden when she said that she did not love him, and again in his office when she said that her feelings remained unchanged.  He had never in his life begged a woman for affection, and pride had kept him silent.  He had remained silent for three long months, in fact, but now an overpowering need to see Jemma again welled up within him, as soon as possible and without delay.  The feeling increased until it became unbearable.  He jumped out of his chair and began to pace up and down the room.

“If I were to leave now, how soon could I get to her?” he said aloud.  “Would she be happy to see me, or dismayed?   Has she missed me at all?  She must know that I do love her and that she is the only woman for me.  She once told Father that she cared for me.  Maybe she said she didn’t love me because of injured pride.  What an idiot I’ve been!  I only hope that I am not too late.”

James flung himself at his writing desk and grabbed paper and pen.  He wrote sheet after sheet, some of them to be delivered to clients, and others to be sent to his father and to David and Victoria.  He had so many arrangements to make.  It was the wee hours when he finally finished writing and laid his cramped body on the bed to catch a few hours’ sleep. 

It seemed only minutes later when James rose, but the sun was already brimming over the horizon.  He was flinging clothing into a trunk when the elderly woman who looked after him arrived.  James left her to finish his packing while he rushed to the office to talk to his business associate.  From there he went to the warehouse to see Edwards, where he acquired every detail that the manager possessed concerning Jemma’s whereabouts and the names and addresses of her friends.  Later, he went to the bank, the coach yard, and to a few shops where he made some hasty purchases. 

He planned to catch the afternoon mail coach.  Some business would have to be settled later by post, but it would have to do.  He would make new arrangements as he made each connection, travelling as quickly as possible.  Speed was of the essence.  He had only one goal, and he could be intractable once his mind was made up.  Tonight he would begin the journey to Italy and to the only thing that truly mattered now – Jemma.

Chapter Twenty-One – The Benellis

Jemma sat on a wooden bench in a flagstone courtyard enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun.  The weather had been unseasonably cool of late, but today the sun had broken through the banked up clouds.  Protected by the high brick wall that surrounded the courtyard, Jemma had found a pleasant niche away from the wind.   She took off her bonnet to let the sun warm her face, and sighed with contentment.  The courtyard was a homely place and served as extended living space for the family in the warmer months.  A weathered wooden table and benches were situated close to the entrance, two old chestnut trees on either side of the table providing necessary shade in the summer months.  A small fountain containing a marble nymph had pride of place in the forecourt. 

The villa was situated in a vineyard in the Tuscan countryside.  It was owned by the Benelli family, the owners of the old family home that Jemma’s husband had rented on his first trip to Florence many years ago.  The Benellis and the Greenes had become friends after Jemma and her husband had come to live in Florence.  Antonio and Clara, with three grown sons and two daughters, had been closer in age to Mr. Greene, but Jemma had come to love them, too. 

Jemma had arrived in Italy a fortnight ago.  She had spent the first few days attending to business in the textile town of Prato before travelling to Florence.  She had visited old friends and her favourite galleries and shops, and spent two glorious nights at the opera.  Jemma had written to Antonio and Clara upon her arrival in the city, and they had urged her to come and stay with them for as long as she liked.

Clara came to join her now, her sleeves rolled up to her forearms and still wearing the apron she had donned first thing that morning.  She carried two glasses of red wine, and handed one to Jemma before settling onto the bench beside her with a sigh.

“You have found a warm spot.  I feel the sun in my bones.  It feels good.”

“Mmm,” said Jemma taking a sip from her glass.  “You have a wonderful home here, Clara.”

“It’s good.”  The two women sat together in companionable silence, drowsy in the sunlight.

“When is Antonio expected back?”  Clara’s husband had been away for four days visiting his mother and his sister’s family in Florence.

“He comes back tonight in time for supper.  He is bringing his sister’s eldest son, Stephano.  You remember Stephano?”

“Was he the nephew who liked to race horses?”

“Yes, but you have not seen him for a few years.  He is more interested in women now than in horses.  He is a handsome young devil, tall and strong.  My sister-in-law and her husband want him to work in their jewellery store, but it is difficult.  Stephano does not always agree with his papa about how the business should be run.”

“I remember their shop.  They had some beautiful things with lovely antique settings.”

“Yes, the gold we sell in Italy is better than any place else.  The tourists who come to Florence like to take some home, so business is good.
” 

“So, why is Antonio bringing Stephano back with him?
”

“Stephano is bringing some jewellery to show my Cecilia’s intended, Alberto.  Alberto wants to buy her a necklace for a wedding present, and he knows my brother-in-law carries the best.  This will save Alberto the trip to Florence, and Stephano likes to get away from the shop when he can.”  The two women talked about the upcoming wedding until the sun faded and the air was too cool to sit outside any longer.

Jemma sat down to dine with Clara and Antonio, their daughter, Cecilia, and Stephano that evening.  Antonio did most of the talking, passing on family news to his wife and daughter.  Stephano interjected an occasional remark.  The young man had a friendly face and jovial manner, teasing and joking with his cousin, properly deferential to his aunt and uncle, and smiling and winking at Jemma.  He was obviously a favourite of his aunt and uncle’s, who treated him like one of their own children. 

When the plates were finally cleared away and coffee was set out, Stephano left the room and returned with a small, locked wooden chest.  “I will show you the pieces I brought for your Alberto, Cecilia.  You can tell me which one you like, and tomorrow I will help him to make the right choice.”

“Good thinking, Stephano, but do not let him know that you showed me first.”

“No, of course not.”

He drew out a key that was suspended from a chain underneath his shirt and opened the chest.  The family gathered around him. 

“Now, this was my first choice for you, Cecilia.  How do you like it?” He drew out a splendid ruby and pearl necklace.  Cecilia gasped appreciatively and put out her hand to take the piece from Stephano.

“Wait, I will put it on you.  I thought that this would look well with your dark hair and rosy colouring.  Zia Clara, do you have a mirror for Cecilia?”  Clara bustled off and came back with a silver-backed mirror, which she held up in front of her daughter.

“Oh, Stephano, it is beautiful,” Cecilia murmured, turning her head this way and that to admire her reflection.

Clara said, “I agree, cara mia, this suits you very well.  Is it good quality, Stephano?”

“Of course, Zia.  A queen would be proud to wear this necklace.  But do not be hasty.  Let me show you what else I brought.”  He reached into the chest and drew out a sapphire pendant offset by two diamonds.

“Ooh, that is very pretty, too.”  Cecilia’ eyes grew round as she admired the second necklace.

“Here, let me take off the rubies, and you try this on,” Stephano said.  “Zia Clara, would you like to try on the ruby necklace?”

“But of course, Stephano,” Clara said, taking the chair beside her daughter.  The two women waited for Stephano to clasp the jewels around their necks, and then vied for the mirror.

Clara primped before her husband.  “Antonio, the rubies look very well on me.  Maybe Cecilia should take the sapphires and you can buy me the rubies for Christmas, eh?”

“Stephano, now you are making trouble for me,” Antonio complained.  “Alberto is the one with the money.”

“Don’t worry, Zio, I am sure that we can give you a special price if Cecilia does not want the rubies for herself.”

“Wait, wait, I have not decided yet,” Cecilia said.

Jemma laughed, and Stephano turned his attention to her.

“Ah, do not think that I have forgotten you, bella Jemma.  With your rich brown hair, I think that emeralds would look very well on you.”  Stephano drew out a third necklace, this one with three matched emeralds on an elaborate gold chain.  Jemma drew in her breath as Stephano came around the table to stand behind her.