A Taste for Scandal (31 page)

She already knew that there was no place for her in his life. No one understood sacrifice for one’s family better than she. When her father died, she had set aside all of her hopes and dreams for her future in order to help Mama. And then when Mama had grown ill . . . yes, Jane knew all too well the sacrifices that must be made in life. If she went to Richard now, she would be nothing but a distraction. Another burden on his already overflowing plate.

“But he can help,” Beatrice persisted.

“Please, please listen to me.” Jane took the girl’s hands in her own, looking her in the eye. She resembled her brother so much, it was hard for Jane to keep her emotions under control. “I can’t bear to make things any worse for him right now. He must move on with his life, and I with mine.”

Beatrice pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, indecision clouding her sun-drenched face. Jane tried to smile, though she was sure it probably looked as though she had just bitten into a burned biscuit. “Let us at least try to come up with a solution on our own. If all else fails, then we can talk to him.”

“Very well, if you are certain. Now then, what can I do to help?”

“Are you sure you don’t wish for me to come to the wharf to see you off?”

Jane watched as her brother dropped his satchel by the back door and came to sit on the stool beside her at the empty worktable. It was a strange sensation to be sitting idle in her kitchen on a Wednesday morning. The oven—and by extension the air itself—was oddly cool. The sink remained empty and the larder was bare of all the ingredients that had defined her life.

Emerson set down his own bag and shook his head. “I won’t hear of it. It’s fine when you’re there under the protection of a sea crab like me, but I don’t want you standing alone among the sharks when we’re under way. Best to say our good-byes here.”

Jane’s throat constricted and she nodded in response.
To say their good-byes
. All the family she had in the world was about to leave her, and she wouldn’t even be able to give them a proper send-off. She knew he was right, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Though truly, it would probably be easier that way. Better to imagine they were somewhere in the country than on a rickety ship in the middle of some vast stretch of ocean. She drew a quiet breath, trying to shove back the emotions that seemed poised to overcome her at any moment. How was she going to watch her baby brother walk out the door, knowing he was headed to the corners of the earth, far beyond her reach?

It was impossible to imagine him living aboard the ship, seeing distant lands and experiencing scorching tropical sun and torrential monsoons. For weeks she had heard bits and pieces of the stories Emerson told Weston, of the excitement and danger, the hard work and stretches of boredom. He’d spoken of exotic ports, strange animals, and scantily clad people. As apprehensive as she was about the whole thing, it was a comfort to know Weston was clearly eager to begin his adventure.

It was a
small
comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Weston set his elbows on the table and dropped his chin in his hands, looking about the room. “It’s strange,” he said after a moment. For the first time, his tone reflected a bit of the nostalgia and trepidation Jane had been swamped with for the past week. “I can’t remember a time when it was so . . .
empty
in here. Even when Mama died, it was still full of purpose. Like a sleeping sentry, you know?”

Yes, she did know. For the week the bakery had been closed when Mama died, it still had never been bare. With sundries and spices and well-used pans still quietly waiting for her to return, one could always feel the future within these walls.

Not anymore.

In the past week, she’d sold the pots, pans, bowls, and utensils that had served her family so well. Any food that hadn’t been used had been wrapped up and given to the orphanage that Papa used to bake extra batches for back when they could afford such a thing. The only items she had kept were the remaining china pieces, her aprons, a scrap of the white and yellow curtain fabric, and of course the mosaic tray.

Jane smiled at her brother, the corners of her mouth stretching taut with the action. “I know what you mean. Soon, someone else will fill the space though. And you’ll be having a grand adventure on the high seas, while I’m lazing the day away, sleeping until at least five in the morning.”

This earned a smile from Weston, but she could tell that the enormity of the change was truly setting in. The brightness of his eyes dimmed perceptibly, and he reached out and set a hand over Jane’s. The simple gesture was almost her undoing. Soon, there would be no one to offer a comforting touch, or to share memories of her parents. She clenched her teeth, forcefully reminding herself that it wouldn’t be forever. According to Emerson, it wouldn’t even be a full year before they returned.

“Now then,” she said, doing her best to infuse her voice with enthusiasm, “you must write me often. I know that I’ll be lucky to get even one of them, but it will make me feel better to know that even if you are going the other direction, your letters are making their way back to me.”

Her brother rolled his eyes, but dutifully nodded his head. “I will.”

She turned to Emerson and pointed a stern finger in his direction. “You, too, cousin. I expect progress reports on how things are going.”

He held a hand to his chest. “I swear it on the tines of Triton.”

She nodded, the movement shallow and jerky. “Good. Now, I have something for you both.” She stood and went to the cedar chest that Emerson had carried down for her this morning. She used her key to unlock it, and lifted the lid. Retrieving two bundles, she handed the first to Emerson. “I’ve some treats to sweeten the journey for you a bit. They should stay fresh for at least another week, so take care to make them last.” The nut and honey bars were an invention of her father’s, and had been one of the last things she had ever baked in the kitchen.

He immediately opened the bundle and filched a bar, popping it his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.” He winked as he said the words with his mouth full. She laughed as he had intended, and gave him an impromptu hug. His huge, muscled arms came around her, holding her as gently as if she were made of spun sugar. He lowered his head and whispered, “You’ll be fine, Janey. You are too strong a woman not to be.”

How did he sometimes seem to know her better than she did herself? Every now and then, he could answer questions she had barely even dared to ask herself, let alone said out loud. “Thank you for that.” She sighed and stepped away, turning her attention to Weston.

Even though he towered over her now, and possessed lanky limbs that were easily half again as long as hers, she could still see the little boy in him that he used to be. She offered up the second bundle to him, this one much weightier than the first. “I can hardly believe you are turning into such a fine man, right before my eyes.”

He ducked his head, his cheeks reddening as he accepted her offering. Emerson cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “I’m just going to take a last look around upstairs to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind.”

As he made his way upstairs, treading softly despite his bulk, Jane sat back down beside her brother. He twisted a corner of the bag in his hands, a nervous gesture that helped her to rally. She was the adult here. It was up to her to see that he was taken care of, and that included assuaging whatever nerves he may have.

Smiling, she patted his forearm. “I wanted to send you away with something special. Something that would remind you that Mama, Papa, and I are always with you.” She tugged the bag open and reached inside, pulling out a small silver spoon. “Papa’s tasting spoon. He liked the size of this one, and would keep it in his apron pocket to test sauces and fillings as they simmered.”

Weston lifted the spoon, turning it in his hands. “I remember that, actually. He used to slip me samples when I pestered him sometimes, letting me have a taste before shooing me out of his way.”

“Me, too. As a means for getting us to stop bothering him, it wasn’t very effective.” She chuckled at the memory before reaching into the bag and pulling out two oilskin-wrapped packages. “Now, since you have promised to write me, I wanted you to have letters from me as well. I know they will never find you if I try to mail them, but there are enough here to read one every other week for the next six months. After all, if I can’t be there to nag you in person, I want to be sure I’m there in spirit.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said with a grin, shaking his head at her quip.

“You are welcome. And lastly,” she said, fighting against the sudden constricting of her throat, “these are from Mama.”

His head snapped up, the humor draining from his face. “From Mama?” He reached for them immediately, his eagerness bordering on desperation.

She put up a staying hand. “Wait just a moment, please. These letters are special, and I need to explain how I found them and what they are for.” She gave him a summary of her discovery, and of Mama’s wishes for when they were to be read.

When she was done, he looked up to her, frustration narrowing his eyes. “Why did you give them to me now? How could you possibly expect me to wait to read them?”

She’d thought long and hard about what to do with his letters. For days she had waffled, but in the end, she’d known that giving them to him was the right thing. “I’m giving them to you now because, as far as I’m concerned, today you became a man. Beginning now, you must decide what is right and wrong, how to conduct yourself, and what moral code to live by. I’ll always be your sister, but I’ll no longer be guiding you.”

She paused, straightening his jacket and brushing at a nonexistent bit of dust. “I decided to give you Mama’s letters because you’re your own person now, and you deserve to have the letters to turn to if you should decide to do so. The ones she wrote for me meant the world to me, and my only regret is that I didn’t take her advice more seriously.”

It was an enormous understatement, but there was no reason to belabor the point. Everything that was happening today was directly her fault. If she had given Mama’s letters their proper due, she would have never had a man in her apartment in the first place. Never mind that nothing happened—the mere fact of his presence was enough to ruin her and she should have known it. She pressed her eyes closed, willing the self-recrimination from her mind. She had only a handful of minutes left with her brother; she wasn’t going to waste them with pointless thoughts of what she might have done.

“Are you scared?”

Jane’s eyes popped open. It wasn’t a question she would have expected from Weston. She struggled to come up with the right thing to say. Was she scared? She wasn’t sure the word could even begin to encompass the enormity of the emotions she felt. She was about to take a blind leap into a completely different life at the same time her most constant companion was taking his own leap, in a totally opposite direction.

Her nerves hummed at the thought of what awaited her when she arrived at her new place of employment later that afternoon. She forced a smile, pulling him to his feet and wrapping her arms around him. For once, he didn’t resist her hug. Instead, he allowed his chin to rest on her shoulder. She fought against the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks at the sweetness of his touch. How would she ever get along without him? Blowing out a slow breath, she was about to deny her fear when it occurred to her that he might be feeling a bit scared himself.

“Perhaps a little,” she allowed, giving him an extra little squeeze. “But if we can make it after losing Mama and Papa, then there is nothing we can’t handle.”

It was the right thing to say. She could tell by the way he smiled when he pulled away. Emerson reappeared then, his boots making more noise than usual in what was surely his attempt to warn them of his arrival. All too soon, the time had come. Nothing could have held the tears back as she hugged them both tightly, wishing the moment could last a lifetime. Her brother struggled to hold back his own tears, but in the end they both wept, and even Emerson seemed to blink much more than was usual.

And then, just like that, she was alone. She spun in a closed circle, taking in the emptiness that hollowed every part of her. At last, she dried her eyes, straightened her painfully tight shoulders, and made her way to the door.

It was time to leap.

Chapter Twenty-seven

“It’s damned good to see you, my friend. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see that ugly face of yours around here again.”

Richard grinned, walking across the marble floor of his friend’s billiards room and slapping him on the back. “You’ve only to look in the mirror, Benedict, and you’d have all the ugliness you could want.”

Benedict laughed. “Ah, yes. There is that legendary wit we’ve been missing these past few weeks. Perhaps getting trounced in a game of billiards will make you feel even more yourself. Remind you of old times, and all.”

“Apparently fatherhood has robbed you of your memory,” Richard returned, accepting the billiards stick his friend handed him. “The last time we played, I clearly recall you leaving in tears.”

“No, no, you must be thinking of the time I was forced to endure your singing during your impromptu duet with Miss Effington. My ears are still ringing.”

Richard had almost forgotten the sound of his own laughter. It was as if he were relearning how to do it, the mechanism rusty with disuse. Today had been a good day, and for the first time he felt like he was finally catching up. The correspondence from his estate managers, stewards, and solicitors had actually started to make sense, and he felt as though he was responding with some amount of authority. Best of all, his father seemed to be doing well, actually coming down to the breakfast table that morning before joining them in the drawing room.

Benedict bent over the table, lining up his first shot. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?”

“It was the only place I could think of that was away from the house where I wouldn’t have to worry about seeing anyone I didn’t wish to. Well, except you, of course.”