The Substitute Countess. Lyn Stone

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СКАЧАТЬ once when he’d been away for nearly a year. If you like it, I want you to have it.”

      The soft, finely woven wool felt as supple as silk. “I’ve never felt such a wonder!” Laurel said, breathless, as she smoothed the delicate folds over her shoulder. “I’ll treasure it always.” She gave Mrs. Ives an impulsive hug. “Thank you so very much.”

      “It’s only a shawl!” Mrs. Ives said, laughing and patting Laurel’s back. She stood back, looked at her and tweaked one of the ribbons in her hair. “My girl needs pretty things.”

      It wasn’t the lovely gift that warmed Laurel’s heart, but the sentiment behind it. Jack’s mother liked her, called her daughter and seemed so happy to have her in the family. The shawl represented a long-held dream coming true.

      “The carriage is here, ladies!” Jack called up the stairs.

      “Ooh, a carriage, he says!” his mother exclaimed, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “Mr. Fancypants is taking us out in style!”

      “Lord Fancypants,” Laurel whispered, and they laughed together like girls.

      The theatre was every bit as grand as Mrs. Ives had declared, Laurel thought when they arrived. Huge columns at least thirty feet tall graced the entrance. “My word, it’s so large!”

      “It’s also a hotel and has assembly rooms,” Jack told her. “The theatre’s only a part of it, but that alone can accommodate over a thousand people at once.”

      “I hope they all are not here tonight,” she muttered.

      He helped her and his mother out of the carriage. “I tried to get a box, but they were all taken, so we’ll have to be in the general audience.”

      Laurel was nearly overcome with excitement as they threaded their way through the throngs gathered in the enormous atrium and found seats. Though the air outside had rather a chill to it, inside the theatre it proved almost stifling due to the crowded conditions.

      Above them were the balconied boxes with beautifully dressed ladies and gentlemen looking down. Most held quizzing glasses, or she supposed that’s what they were. She had read of those and wondered how the distant stage would look when seen through them. She took her seat on the bench between Jack and his mother and tried to settle down for the performance.

      There were two acts preceding it, a soprano who sang a tragic love song and then a trio of rather inexpert acrobats who drew loud derision from the crowds. At last the curtains closed and it grew relatively quiet as the play was announced.

      Laurel grew more fascinated by the moment as the play she had read so many times came to life on the stage. The girl who played Ophelia seemed truly mad, lovely as she was, and drew tears well before her character’s death. Even Jack seemed entranced to the point of unusual stillness.

      When it was over and the applause died down, Laurel released a heavy sigh. She wished their outing could go on and on. Jack ushered them out and hailed their carriage which he had arranged to come back for them after the performance.

      “So, what do you think of theatre?” he asked as they waited.

      Laurel grasped his mother’s hand. “Thank you for this, ma’am. It was the most glorious thing I have ever seen!”

      Jack laughed. “That’s not as great a compliment as it might be if You hadn’t lived all your life behind the walls of a convent!”

      “Still, it was wonderful,” she declared with a firm nod, “and you mustn’t make light of it. We should be regular theatre-goers in London.”

      He winked at his mother. “You see how she stands me around, Mum? And you worried that the big city might intimidate her? Scoff at the thought. She’ll take it by storm, wait and see!”

      The ride back to the chemist shop proved jolly, followed by an excellent supper of purchased meat pies and very good wine. Laurel hoped this night was a portent of happy times to come.

      “This truly is the best night of my life, by far,” she said to his mother after they retired. She hugged the beautiful blue-and-white shawl once more before folding it away.

      The night would have been absolutely perfect if she were retiring to bed with her husband, but Laurel knew that delay only left her something else wondrous to anticipate.

      “Jack seemed to enjoy it, too,” Mrs. Ives said as she tucked her hair into her frilly nightcap. She was obviously pleased that she had suggested just the right entertainment. “I thought he might excuse himself and wander around impatiently until it was over. He had trouble sitting still for very long, even as a lad. Never left us once tonight, though, did he!”

      “No, ma’am, not once. I don’t even think he thought about it.”

      Mrs. Ives had put her finger on the one thing that had begun to trouble Laurel about Jack, however. He proved a most active man, not fidgety, but highly strung as if constantly poised to tackle anything that wanted doing. And if there was nothing apparent pending, he seemed to conjure something out of thin air. When he was quiet and still, it seemed somehow forced and she could sense his tension.

      His very nature apparently required perpetual vigilance and a quick response to whatever happened around him, and yet, he seldom seemed exhausted. “I envy his enduring vigor. He’s so capable. And quite the hero, too, your lad,” Laurel said with a smile as she climbed into bed. “Everyone aboard the ship coming here greatly admired him and so do I.”

      “Admiration is well and good, but I hope you will love my son, Laurel.” That was the last thing the mother said after the lamp was blown out and they were settled for the night.

      Love. Obviously Jack had grown up with that, even though he must have been away for long stretches of time since he had gone to sea with his father. The closeness with his mother had remained constant.

      Could she learn to love him?

       Chapter Six

      The next morning Jack had gone out to the bakery two doors away and brought back sticky buns. His mother heated water on the small brazier downstairs and made tea.

      When they said goodbye, Mrs. Ives embraced Laurel as heartily as she did Jack. Then she grasped both their arms in an almost punishing grip. “Be happy, you two. Be good to one another. And do not let these titles of yours give you airs. Mind you, there’s nothing worse than haughty swells!”

      “Yes, Mum,” Jack promised and nudged Laurel who answered likewise. They shared a smile.

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