Jack
****
April 29, 1799
Dear Captain Jack,
I certainly wouldn’t have killed her. I am an excellent shot. Besides, the hat was not on her head but resting on a fence post nearby. I thought it was the pheasant we were all chasing. How was I to know she trysted nearby with Lord Forthby? With the bloody fuss she made, you’d think the hat had been on her head.
The best news is that Mr. Davis and Gabrielle are officially engaged. They are planning to marry at the end of the summer after Mr. Davis is done with his fellowship and has had an opportunity to find a position. I can’t believe Gabrielle is going to settle down so easily in this godforsaken country where the sun never shines.
Honestly, I am happy for her. But I do miss the warmth of the Caribbean. I miss swimming in the water of my cove. Even in summer, the lakes here are damn cold.
Yours,
Vivi
Chapter Ten
Jack placed Vivian’s latest letter on his desk and gazed out his window at the sea. He pictured her emerging from the warm water of her cove, wet chemise clinging to every curve. She would walk into his embrace, and they would make love on the warm sand. He took a drink of his lemonade and tried to clear his head of the fantasy.
He enjoyed reading her letters, although with each one he braced himself to learn news of her engagement to some toff. But so far not a word in that direction. If Vivian would marry, then he could be happy for her and close the door on his infatuation.
A whole year had passed, and he still couldn’t forget about his water nymph or that kiss they shared the last night on deck. He tried to put it behind him, but even five months traveling through the Mediterranean had not dimmed his memory. Several opportunities had arisen to exorcise her in the arms of other beautiful women. No one had compared to the beauty and fire of his wild island girl, and he found himself turning down their coy offers. Jack placed her letter on top of the pile of others she had sent him during the last year.
His recent trip had been difficult, but not only for the reasons he had written to Vivian about. His mission for the government had been to deliver vital information to Admiral Nelson in Egypt, tactical information gathered by fellow spies who worked deep in Napoleon’s ranks. The British agent providing the intelligence must have been spotted leaving theLady Louise. The ship had been ambushed the very next evening. His crew rallied to defend the ship, but they were not trained soldiers.
The skirmish on board had cost the life of a young sailor in his employ and had injured several others. They left for Cairo quickly, and he’d been able to transport the two undercover agents safely out of France. Nelson used the intelligence to defeat Napoleon in the battle at Aboukir Bay. Ultimately, the mission ended successfully. It still rankled; how had the French known the identity of the agent he met with?
The government didn't often utilize Jack. The arrangement suited him and allowed him to focus on his business endeavors. But when he was called upon, he was always needed immediately. The work was often perilous. He reveled in the hazardous missions as a younger man, but as his shipping business and responsibilities grew, he found he was less excited about putting himself into dangerous situations.
He sipped his drink and reached for another letter off the pile of correspondence. The letter was from his mother, dated several months ago.
Dear Jack,
I have sad news to report. Your brother’s wife took ill with a fever and passed away just days later. The whole household came down with it. Several servants also died, including Mrs. Hogsworth. I know she always looked fondly on you, my dear, and you on her.
Luckily, Andrew had the children at the estate with him. Lydia was in London when she got sick. Everyone is in shock and Andrew is not doing well. Caroline and I have come to stay with Andrew and the boys at Gilchrest House. He puts on a brave face for the children, but he is drinking himself into a stupor each night in his study. I am quite worried about him. And the poor babies, they are silent as the grave most days. They won’t smile at all except around their papa.
Caroline is not happy about putting her social calendar on hold for mourning. She and Lydia never did get along; Lydia never did get along with either of us, truthfully. But she was family, and we need to respect the dead. I told Caroline four months would be long enough for mourning so she can still take advantage of most of the summer’s social events. She frittered away her first season this past winter, not taking a single suitor seriously. I hope to get her married suitably this year.
I know you said you have been in the Mediterranean this winter, but when will you make the voyage to England again? It was so lovely to have you even for a couple of weeks last year, but this is not enough time for a mother to see her son. I could use your help with your siblings. With your father gone I don’t know how I am going to carry on all by myself.
Love,
Your mother
Jack set the letter down. Lydia, dead? His memories swirled and spun with the ferocity of a hurricane. Lydia had been his first love, his first betrayal of trust, his reason for running off to sea. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel any pain at learning about her passing. But he did feel pity for his brother. Andrew didn’t deserve to be a widower so young and with two small children to raise.
With her mahogany hair, porcelain skin, and pale blue eyes, Lydia epitomized classic English beauty. Her sparkling confidence drew people to her, and she loved being the center of attention. The summer he turned twenty-one, her family visited nearby his family seat at Stoneleigh. She set her sights on him, and he had been a fool for her charms. They had spent lots of time riding out together, partnering up in pall-mall games and stealing kisses by the lake late in the evenings.
Then one day he had foolishly declared his love for her in the privacy of the gazebo. Getting down on one knee, he’d asked for her hand in marriage. She recoiled at his proposal. Laughing lightly, she told him how sweet he was, but did he think she would settle for a second son? She had her heart set on bigger fish than him. Hurt and incensed, he had stormed off.
He raged for a night or two, getting piss-drunk with his friends. Then he went to his father and asked him to buy him a commission in the Royal Navy. He needed to leave home, to get far away from Lydia. For the first time ever, he found the motivation to choose a path for his life.
A month later Lydia became engaged to his older brother, newly back from university. This news cut a second deep wound, adding fuel to his adolescent anger. His own brother betrayed him. Stole the woman he loved. Lydia unwittingly changed the whole trajectory of Jack’s life. His path changed from wastrel second son of a duke to naval officer, then to sea captain, and finally successful businessman.
Jack did not speak to his brother for several years, still injured by what he considered a betrayal. But his close brush with death and his experiences working for Jamieson carved a man from what had been a spoiled boy. By the time of their father’s death five years ago, he had already forgiven Andrew. Unfortunately, the damage to their relationship had been done. They were stiff and formal whenever they saw each other. It didn’t help that Jack avoided any contact with Lydia when he was home, though that hadn’t been often these past ten years.
