The only person he truly kept in touch with was his sister, Caroline. They corresponded, and he spent as much time with her as possible when he visited in England. He always searched out the most interesting trinkets or outrageous books wherever he traveled, sending them along to entertain her. Jack missed her very much. He couldn’t believe she’d grown old enough to be on the marriage mart. He frowned. Who watched out for her if Andrew spent his nights drowning his sorrows in brandy?
Jack rose and crossed to the window. The sunlight, blinding-white against the marble of the balcony, made him squint. Honestly, he was much more upset to hear Mrs. Hogsworth had passed. She had been the jovial housekeeper in his father’s household. She always made time for the rowdy boy he had been. Mrs. Hogsworth listened to his tall tales and covered for him when he came in muddy or with torn breeches from climbing trees or some such boyhood adventure. She always had treats in her pockets and hugs for small children. His brother and sister had loved her too. The housekeeper must have stayed with Andrew when he became the duke. Jack would sorely miss the woman; going home wouldn’t be the same without her there.
He smiled at his mother’s declaration that she couldn’t handle everything all alone. What pure drivel. He’d never met a woman more capable of handling life’s upsets than his mother. She managed her family and society with the skill of a Commodore. But perhaps it was time to go home for a proper visit. If his brother was in a downward spiral, maybe he could help.
He and Andrew had been thick as thieves when they were boys and, despite the gulf between them, he hated to hear of his brother’s grief. In addition, he could keep an eye on Caroline, be her escort while he straightened Andrew out. Yes, the time had come for him to go home.
He picked up the last letter in the personal correspondence pile. It also had been waiting for him for several months. The brief missive came straight to the point.
Captain Aston,
I need to ask you another favor.
Last winter I received a tip Pierre Dubois had sailed for Lisbon. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give chase and finally rid myself of this devil who threatened my family. When we arrived in Lisbon several weeks later, we found we had just missed the slippery bastard. Heading for Paris, some said, so we are about to set course for Le Havre. I hope to ambush him in port as he returns upriver from the capital.
I am worried, though. Dubois is far too near to Vivian. I know you’ve got connections in London. Can you arrange for someone to keep an eye on Vivian and Gabrielle? I don’t dare send her letters anymore. Don’t want to leave a trail to London in case the letters get intercepted. And I don’t want Vivian and Gabrielle to know Dubois is close by and be frightened. Promised her I would take care of that scourge and I mean to keep my promise.
Will you see to it she is taken care of?
I am in your debt,
Robert Jamieson
Jack leaned back in his chair. Looked like the winds were blowing him to England. He could do better than have someone check in on Miss Vivian; he would do it himself. He assessed the pile of business correspondence on his desk. It would take him at least two weeks to take care of concerns here before he could travel again. He would try to sail for England by the end of May.
Chapter Eleven
It was a beautiful day in early summer. A warm breeze blew in through the open windows into the morning room. Vivian sat at breakfast with Aunt Grace, Aunt Evelyn, and Gabrielle when a footman came in with the morning post. The post meant she might hear from her father. She sat on her hands in an effort not to grab the mail right out from Grace’s hands. Gabrielle looked across the table at her with a stern eye as if she could read Vivian’s impatient thoughts. Aunt Grace perused slowly through the mail, occasionally passing a letter to Aunt Evelyn.
When she finally got to the end of the pile, she looked down the table at Vivian. “Sorry, darling, nothing for you.” Vivian’s excitement deflated. Aunt Grace gave an encouraging smile. “I am sure your father is just busy, or perhaps he sailed somewhere quite far away, and the mail has been lost at sea or something.”
Vivian sighed and picked up a scone. “He would have written me if he planned to embark on a long journey somewhere. I fear something bad has happened.”
“Shipwreck?” Aunt Evelyn said with a gleam in her eye. She had never forgiven Papa for stealing away her sister.
“Honestly, Evie. To say such a thing. Never mind her, dear. But perhaps you should visit the solicitor; he may have received word from him. Men, in my experience, are more likely to be in touch with their money than their women.”
Grace looked over at Evelyn; both ladies nodded.
“If you’ll excuse me then, I will go send a note to Mr. Collins.” She looked at Gabrielle. “I’ll be in the library.”
Gabi met her in the library a short time later. “Are you truly worried about shipwreck?”
“No,” Vivian said. “But I am worried he ran into trouble with Dubois. My letter from Captain Aston said Papa sailed in early December and left no record of where they were going. That says to me he sailed off to find trouble, or to cause it.” She bit her lip. “It’s been more than six months. I hate that there is nothing we can do. I guess if Mr. Collins has not had word from Papa, maybe he knows someone I can hire to find out what has happened to him. What about you? What are you doing today?”
“This morning I am expecting Mr. Davis to call. Then this afternoon I am at your disposal.”
Mr. Davis had become quite the fixture at Dunmore House, coming by at least three times a week to see Gabi. The aunts loved him and were always trying to feed him, saying he would waste away working at the hospital. Gabi told her privately she worried more about George catching one of the many illnesses he treated, like cholera. But with this experience working with the London Hospital, he would receive excellent recommendations for a future position. They planned to move out to the countryside, to a town in need of a good doctor. Vivian would miss Gabi terribly, but was equally excited for her happiness. Her friend deserved a chance at a normal life with a respectable man who would adore her.
Gabi’s family had owned a sugar plantation outside of New Orleans. When she was fifteen, Dubois and his men had killed her family, setting the house on fire in the middle of the night. Gabi had been the only one to escape and had ended up living near the city docks for almost two years before Papa had found her.
Papa had known Gabi’s family and happened to find her working in one of the taverns as a kitchen maid. He recognized her, and after hearing what happened, insisted on bringing her home to Nassau. She didn’t talk about her time in New Orleans, but Vivian gathered enough to know it had been rough. She hoped the quiet life of an English doctor’s wife would make her feel safe and happy.
“Take the whole day with George if he can spare it. I planned to visit with Caroline this afternoon. She is having some trouble with her latest portrait, and she asked me to come and help her with it.”
“Splendid. I will see if he has the afternoon off.” Gabi twirled away, heading back upstairs to get ready for her beau.
Vivian received a reply within the hour from Collins and Booth, saying they could see her at eleven o’clock. So she put on her most respectable outfit, a soft blue dress with a blue and white striped spencer jacket. The dress had a modest neckline trimmed with beautiful ivory satin ribbon studded with small seed pearls. Molly, her lady’s maid, ruthlessly tamed her hair into an elegant bun with a few carefully placed curls framing her face. Vivian donned a little straw bonnet with matching blue ribbons.
