Sat, May 19 2012
A week later, Phileas was sitting in his library in the country with the doors shut. Most of his bruises from his various beatings had nearly healed. He was still a bit discolored, but it was a minor inconvenience Fogg ignored. The room was dark and quiet, which suited his mood perfectly. The closed door was the long recognized sign of: do not disturb, I’m drinking. Only Phileas had not touched a drop since he had found Jessica’s crumpled body on the floor in the parlor. He had come in here to brood and relieve himself of the sight of his cousin, who was upstairs in a death-like sleep.
Since that awful night, she had resided in a guestroom with someone sitting with her every minute. Rebecca’s bullet had passed by his double’s shoulder hitting Jessica a hard blow to the head. It had not entered the skull, “Thank God!” It had only cut a four-inch long trench along the side. That apparently had been enough to do major damage. Jessica had not moved a muscle since.
Rebecca had been beside herself with guilt over shooting their cousin. More so, because she had done it as Jessica had been trying to protect her. Rebecca had not known about the double and had not had time to recognize him as an imposter. Jessica had divined it somehow, despite the dark of the room and the Prussian spy’s excellent skills.
A knock came to the door. Fogg ignored it. There was not a soul in the house that would disturb him in here. Rebecca might, but she was in London laying cover for what had happened. They had agreed to say that he had brought Jessica to the country for a picnic. Rebecca was to tell about that Jessica had incurred a riding accident during that visit. She had been thrown from her horse. Little Daniel would be installed with Harriett until something more developed.
The door opened against his wishes for whomever it was to go to hell. Rebecca quietly entered the room. ‘Of course it was Rebecca,’ Fogg thought.
She was looking as crest fallen as she had before leaving. “Has our myth taken root?” He asked.
“To an extent yes,” Rebecca said quietly, moving into the room to take a seat near the desk. “Harriett is taking care of Daniel. He wanted to come back here with me. He was quite insistent about it, but we managed to hold him off. Harriett is fit to be tied and so are Lady Hawthorne and Lady Weatherby. Jessica sent notes to both women canceling a shopping expedition the day she came here with you. Her reasons coincided with our fiction nicely,” Rebecca commented. “She wrote that you had invited her out for a jaunt to the country on the Aurora for the day.”
“I invited?” Phileas shot in surprise. “The woman practically forced herself on me!” In response, Rebecca burst into giggles, then a full laugh. “I fail to see any humor in our situation.” He said sternly tossing mental daggers at his cousin.
“You would if you had been in London these past two days hearing how your trip has been interpreted,” Rebecca said sobering. “And Jessica, I think, would find it riveting. By the time I reached London to tell of Jessica’s riding accident, London had already decided for itself what had transpired over the three days you two had been gone.”
“Cousin,” She informed him. “According to the gossip, you two have been seen together far too much of late and you were quite non-committal when asked about your sudden interest in this season’s sensation. Jessica on the other hand made no bones about her enjoyment of your company. That of course means nothing, but then the two of you disappeared in a rather public fashion. You were seen arm in arm heading to the Aurora before leaving London.”
“She was half carrying me to the Aurora,” Fogg corrected.
“Be that as it may,” Rebecca said dismissing the comment, “Jessica did not have her ever-present seven-year-old chaperone with her. That fact and your prolonged absence turned an innocent jaunt to the country into an affair-de-cur. You Phileas, are now being accused of spiriting her off from the competition. Both your reputations are in tatters and when you return…”
“Damnation!” Phileas shouted coming out of his chair.
“…if the two of you are not married, Jessica will be cut dead!” Rebecca continued through her cousin’s outburst.
The turn of phrase used in the context Rebecca meant it was a common term, but the circumstances gave it another meaning. Silence reigned in the library for long moments. The anger and frustration in both cousins over the stupidity of London gossip left them as they came back to the fact that Jessica could very well die of her wound, or worse, live but never wake. Phileas dropped back down into his seat feeling even further defeated.
Phileas stood in the middle of a darkened room. “Jessica, it’s over,” he said quietly.
From her hiding place Jessica took in his form warily. “No, it was not the double; it was Phileas,” she recognized with relief. She had seen them both in the great room and had noted the difference in their clothing. Jessica came out of the shadows, still holding the gun he had given her loosely at her side in the folds of her dress. Her cousin dropped his weapon to his side and held out one hand to her. That further proved it. Jessica felt herself moving to his side. He reached out his other arm to her offering comfort after the ordeal they had just been through. Then a tall figure darkened the doorway. It was Rebecca.
“Everything was all right! They were all safe!” Jessica’s mind cried out in joy.
Then Jessica saw the man before her change. Phileas’ mouth turned up in a sardonic grin. It shook her for a moment. Then Jessica saw a sign. Something that told her she had been about to make a major mistake. The imposter turned from her to Rebecca and started lifting his gun. Jessica’s heart went to her throat as she quickly drew up her weapon and fired into the man’s back. She saw her bullet hit home and his weapon fly out of his hands just before the world went blank in a blinding flash of pain.
“Jessica? Jessica!” She heard, as voices called out to her.
“I am sorry sir,” another voice said. “There is nothing I can do. She will recover or she will not. It is in God’s hands.”
“Don’t you dare die at my hand Jessica!” A female voice called out to her. “I will never forgive you! I will never forgive myself!”
“What am I going to do with you?” Another familiar voice said to her. “What am I going to do with a seven-year-old boy?”
“Miss Jessica, you be making much unhappiness in your long unconsciousness.” A forlorn voice called to her. “Please be waking soon?”
Phileas sat his watch in a chair brought to Jessica’s bedside. It was around one o’clock in the morning ten days later, and she had not moved at all. The bandage had been taken away as the wound to her head had healed over. Jessica had lost some hair, but Rebecca had combed the rest into position so it did not show. Lying in bed with her pale hair spread over the pillows, Phileas’ American cousin looked like a fairy tale princess under a spell. Rebecca had brought up a gown for her use. It was one of the silky lacy things she wore in the privacy of her own rooms. It was the softest thing Rebecca owned, by her own words, and would be comfortable. As he sat, he spoke to her as the others had taken to doing during their watches. There was no telling if Jessica heard them, but it was comforting to think she could. Phileas had vague memories of being talked to in similar situations. So did Rebecca. So they talked to her, hopeful.
“I do not blame you for not waking up,” Phileas said to the sleeping woman. “Things have become a royal mess! The Baron settled into a little Scottish hamlet and was found and killed far too quickly for it to have been anything but inside information that betrayed him. Chatsworth is steaming over it.”
“London still will not forgive us for leaving the city together. That is my fault,” Fogg volunteered. “We waited too long to start circulating your cover story. The gossips came to a conclusion ahead of us and now I have become a compromiser of young widows and you…” he laughed, “have lost your popularity. Your name is not even spoken in London.”
“I have been gathering your mail for you,” Phileas continued after a pause. “You have four letters from various peers informing you of their crying off. Lady Weatherby, who is aware of the full facts, has tried to champion you, but no one is listening. Lady Hawthorne came to visit yesterday. She is sympathetic, and will try to mend the matter, but makes no promises.”
“I have kept Daniel away,” Fogg said more solemnly. “I do not know if I am right or wrong in that, but I did not think he should see you swollen and bandaged. Harriett is still keeping him. I am not so sure that is a good idea either. She says she is willing to keep him as long as you are ill, but I have reservations about his staying more than a month. Your aunt is not up to the constant care of a small boy,” Phileas thought aloud. “He tires her. I . . . have not looked into your papers yet. I hope you have someone designated to care for him. If not, you have put me in the position of defacto guardian as head of the family.”
Phileas stood and walked to the other side of the room looking out the window into the moonlit countryside. “Do you have any idea how inadequate I am to such a position?” He confessed minutes later. “I know nothing of children I tell you! And my father, damn him, was not the sort of example you would want emulated!”
“You have put me in a damnably difficult position!” Fogg complained. “From the moment you moved in across the street you have been causing me trouble!” Phileas accused. “You cause me almost as much worry and irritation as Rebecca does.” Fogg turned to the woman in the bed for a moment then turned back to the window. Jessica’s unmoving form was harder to take than the bleak darkness outside.
“What am I going to do with your child Jessica?”
“What… what am I going to do without you?”
“You were a little boy once, Phileas.” A thin voice said behind him. “You have all you need to know in that. But do not worry about it cousin; I am not going anywhere.”
Phileas turned slowly, almost afraid he had imagined her voice speaking to him; it was so weak. Looking to the bed he saw her eyes open and looking at him sleepily. He came quickly to the bed again, taking her hand. She squeezed his fingers in response to his touch. Phileas was so relieved his throat constricted, threatening to choke on joyful tears.
“You are awake,” he said grinning unashamedly down at her. “How much did you hear me say?”
“Something about a Baron being killed and the gossips in London making trouble for you,” Jessica answered then yawned. “It took a little time to pull myself awake enough to answer you. I may have missed some of it. Why are you here with me?” She asked. “Have I been sleeping long?”
“Only over two weeks,” He informed her nearly laughing. “You have had us quite worried.”
“Good heavens! Where is Daniel?”
“He is still with your Aunt Harriett.”
“The poor woman,” Jessica exclaimed! “You should have him brought to me. He will be going completely stir crazy being kept from me so long.”
“I will send for him tomorrow morning straight away,” Phileas agreed thankful she was well and thinking so clearly. Jessica was thinking, remembering everything, and giving orders like a sergeant, or more correctly, a Fogg. Phileas could not have been happier.
“What was that you were saying about trouble in London?”
“We can go into that later. Would you like something?” Fogg asked.
“Water please.”
Phileas quickly went to the pitcher and brought her a cup. She drank slowly savoring it and giving her mouth the moisture it needed. Fogg stood back and watched her, savoring every small movement after so long seeing her still as death. ‘What am I going to do with you?’ He asked silently.
Jessica’s eyes took on a blank look for a moment then a troubled one, then a shocked one in rapid succession. “What is it?”
“I shot you,” Jessica said in a small voice. “No, I shot him! The one that was impersonating you, I shot him!” She said reliving the moment.
“He was about to shoot Rebecca, but she did not know, but I could tell, I knew it was not you, but she would not. We all raised our guns at once!”
“Rebecca! Rebecca?”
“Shhh, Phileas soothed to her. “Rebecca is fine. You saved her life,” he reassured her. “She is sleeping down the hall.” He took her hand again and held it. When she started to tremble he sat on the bed and took her in his arms to try to stop her shaking. “Rebecca is all right,” he said again firmly. “You saved her.”
As Jessica began to calm herself, Phileas asked the one question that had been eating him alive since that night. “How did you know it was not me? And do not tell me that nonsense about my eyes again. The room was too dark for that. The man took my clothes to confuse you. I was sure you would be caught,” Fogg confessed. “Rebecca did not know the difference and she has known me since she was a small child.”
“Rebecca did not dress you.”
“What?”
“Rebecca did not dress you that morning,” Jessica said again under his chin. “I only know one way to knot a cravat. It’s not fancy and I do not see it used much here in England. Father showed it to me a long time ago. He said it would stay looking good even through a winter gale.”
Phileas nearly choked on his laughter. ‘When Rebecca hears that she had been saved by the absence of an old fashioned seaman’s bowknot she will come completely undone,’ Fogg thought unbelieving. “What am I going to do with you?”
“You are doing fine from where I sit.” Jessica said contentedly allowing herself to be cuddled in his warm embrace. Phileas was still holding her. Her fit of tremors had subsided now, but her cousin did not seem to have noticed. Jessica did not mind. They were alone and his holding her was so very comforting after all the memories that had come flooding back to her.
Fogg looked down at her, belatedly realizing he did not need to be holding her anymore. He also noticed that Rebecca’s gown did not fit this smaller woman and was slipping off her shoulders. The effect was to make a tempting display her normal attire never allowed.
Jessica was not anything like the women he normally preferred. “So why,” Phileas asked himself, “is she suddenly so damned alluring?” Phileas set her back down into her pillow, and with more willpower than he knew he possessed, pulled her gown back over her shoulders. ‘The woman has just awakened from an injury!’ He chastised himself. ‘This can wait!’
“Phileas,” Jessica asked again, “what is this trouble you mentioned? Something about London and us… Tell me?”
‘The woman is deadly persistent,’ Phileas had to give her that. “It is a rather involved story,” he said of it. “You have lost four of your suitors over it, your popularity, and most likely your welcome in London society as well.” As he explained what had happened because of their long absence, Jessica’s face became hard. Jessica was not used to worrying about what anyone would think of what she did. Women in the west did what was necessary and let the chips fall where they would. Jessica Fogg Parker had been a law unto herself all her young life. Being a rich man’s daughter and a remote rancher’s wife had just made it that much easier. “London can go to hell,” she said without concern.
Fogg should have expected that reaction, but her words took him by surprise nonetheless. He knew Jessica wanted to remarry. She had gone to a great deal of trouble learning London society rules to become acceptable. “London decides whether you gain your goal this season.” He gently reminded her.
“I stand by what I said,” Jessica reaffirmed shifting her blankets. “If those rich dandies, and I think I know which ones cried off over this, cannot handle the idea of my going to my cousin’s home for a picnic and a ride across the fields, then they had no business courting me to begin with!”
“Quite true,” Phileas said in admiration and no little disappointment. What he was feeling for Jessica right now was growing into something more than the love of cousins. “So you intend to return when you are recovered and brazen it out alone?”
“Hopefully no,” Jessica said looking to him askance. “I will have you and Rebecca with me, will I not? Aunt Harriett has not cut me off has she?”
“No, of course not,” Fogg assured her. “Lady Hawthorne has been here to see you. She and Countess Weatherby will also still support you. You are part of the family now. We will always be with you.”
Jessica smiled to him and began to drift away again. “Thank you Phileas,” she said weakly. Her eyes closed for a moment then opened them again to register the concern and a few other emotions running across Phileas’ unguarded face thinking she had been fully asleep.
“Phileas,” she called sleepily, “I am not Rebecca. Do not try to make me into your sister.” With that odd comment, Jessica fell fully asleep leaving Phileas to sit back in his chair and smile.
The end?
Chapter 6 | Chapter 7