Magic and Mayhem Collection Volume 1, page 32
The behavior had begun ten years ago, right after his grandfather died and Wesley had often wondered if it was because she loved Grandfather so much, and the loss was so devastating, that it caused her to slip from reality.
If Grandmother did suffer from senility or a demented state, there wasn’t anything he could do, and he’d never resort to sending the old gel to a horrific place like Bedlam. He’d simply keep her here, in the care of her family, and make certain that a maid or caretaker was her constant companion. It was the latest recommendation of the Royal Society and those who were knowledgeable about such conditions. This past spring he’d met with many physicians and scholars who had studied the subject, in hopes of a cure, but none was to be had.
“She’s always been a favorite of yours, Jonathan.”
Who was Jonathan? Did his grandmother have an invisible friend such as a child invented? Had she slipped so far from reality?
“Yes, yes, you are correct. But what to do?”
Do about what?
“That is an excellent idea,” she exclaimed.
Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was he the only one in the family who was concerned with his grandmother’s grasp on reality? Her son certainly wasn’t. Father was too busy running the estate and analyzing investments to bring further wealth into the family.
Maybe Grandmother needed her friends to visit. Living at Forester Hall must be lonely for her. One of the recommendations by the learned physicians was that conversation and engagement of the mind might help stave off the disease, although not permanently, but any slow in the progression was helpful.
Wesley brightened. Yes, he’d send for Ladies Priscilla, Joanna, and Esther Tilson, maiden sisters who had at one time been his grandmother’s constant companions. If she had real friends with her, she’d not need to invent an invisible one, and maybe he could keep her in the present reality longer, and before it was too late and she forgot them all to live in a world of her imagination, as was the likely outcome, based on all that he’d read.
“Yes. Yes. Jonathan. He would be perfect.”
Wesley could no longer remain in the corridor listening to his grandmother lose her hold on reality. “Who would be perfect, Grandmother?” he asked as he stepped into the parlor.
She blinked at him. “Just thinking aloud, dear.” Then she smiled. “Please join me for tea.”
A footman entered, almost on Wesley’s heels, and settled the tea service on the table between them. It was Wesley who poured as he’d been doing for some time now since Grandmother’s hands pained her and lifting the pot was simply too much.
“Who is Jonathan?” He had to know if his grandmother truly believed a person was in the room with her.
She took a hasty drink then settled the cup on the saucer, as her smile fell. “You’ll think me silly.”
He’d never seen Grandmother defeated. Perhaps he shouldn’t press, but Wesley was concerned. “I could never think such a thing,” he assured her.
“Jonathan is the man I love. The only man I’ve ever loved and sometimes I like to talk to him.”
Only man. What about his grandfather? Hadn’t they loved one another?
However, that wasn’t nearly as concerning as his grandmother’s wavering grip on reality.
“What happened to him?”
“He died.” She smiled sadly at somebody over Wesley’s shoulder.
He glanced behind but nobody was there.
“A mere fortnight before we were to wed.”
Maybe his grandmother wasn’t slipping into madness. Maybe it was a comfort. She acknowledged that her love was dead, so was it any different than praying? Many found comfort in prayers to a Biblical God. Perhaps this wasn’t so different, which gave him a margin of hope.
“When do you plan on leaving for Hollybrook Park?” Grandmother asked suddenly as if she wished to change the topic.
“I’m not attending Somerton’s wedding. I thought I’d mentioned it previously.” As his father and sister would be in attendance, Wesley didn’t feel it was necessary that he go. Besides, as it was being held at Miranda’s home, he thought it best not to plague her with his presence. As she’d not returned to the ball as promised, and the excuses for her absence, made by her siblings, were vague and flimsy at best, he’d concluded that he’d overstepped when he thoroughly kissed her, thus ruining the friendship they’d once shared. It was the only reasonable conclusion.
“But you must,” Grandmother insisted.
“I don’t think Somerton will care if I’m there or not,” he chuckled. Somerton only cared about the bedding, not the wedding. At least, that is what his friend had grumbled about when he learned that the wedding was to be put off for three months.
“You told Viscount Lynwood that you, your father, and Lucinda would be in attendance. It would be impolite not to attend. Think of all the planning they’ve gone to and the numbers they expect.” She frowned at him. “It’s not well-done of you to renege at this late date.”
Wesley blinked at her. He hadn’t been scolded on how one behaved in polite society in some time.
“It is the same as I told your father.” She wagged a finger at him. “I’m disappointed in both of you.”
“Father isn’t attending?” This was the first that Wesley had learned of the decision.
“He feels he has more important matters to attend to here.” She snorted. “Further, he advised that you could represent the family as well as watch over Lucinda.”
“If he isn’t going, I don’t see that it is necessary that I or my sister do either,” Wesley argued.
It wasn’t that he wished to avoid the wedding. It was because he wasn’t yet over his obsession for Miranda and he hoped that his desire for her waned by next spring. Though, he wondered if it would even happen by then because he could still vividly recall the most incredible melding of mouths he’d ever experienced. And, his heart still ached for her. But such love was not to be. At least not for him.
“Your father responded that there will be three guests at the wedding,” his grandmother argued. “Therefore, as your father will not be attending, I shall go in his place, and I’ll even play chaperone to Lucinda.”
Wesley blinked at her. His grandmother rarely left Forester Hall. Maybe this would be good for her. If she were entertained and surrounded by society, she might not feel the need to converse with her long-dead love.
As he sipped his tea and pondered the potential positive aspects of the visit, his mind also pondered what it would be like to see Miranda again. And even though he didn’t want to provide her with another opportunity to reject him, he did need to hear directly from her, her reason for her not attending the ball. Only then would he be able to put her from his mind. Painful though her words may be, he needed to hear them to be free.
“I’d love to have you attend with me, Grandmother. You and I will have a grand time. Of that I am certain.”
“I’m not looking for a grand time, Wesley, though I appreciate the sentiment.” She chuckled.
“Then why do you wish to attend?”
“Misses. I should have gone to Castle Keyvnor in June, but I will not make that mistake again. Thankfully you didn’t succumb to foolishness.”
“Foolishness?” Unless she was referring to so many believing that ghosts inhabited the castle. She should know that he’d never succumb to such illogical beliefs.
“Misses at weddings get strange ideas and seek out bachelors in need of a wife.”
“I’m not in need of a wife,” he argued.
“Yes, you are, but that is not the point,” she argued. “To them, you are of a perfect age, status and wealth to be lured into a betrothal, and I’ll be there to protect you.” She slowly smiled. “Unless the right miss is present, of course. Then I shall allow her to ruin you.”
“Grandmother!” Wesley had never heard her utter such a shocking statement in his life. Besides, gentlemen were never ruined in the manner to which she referred.
“Oh bother. I may be old, but I well remember being young and filled with desire.”
This was not a conversation he wished to have with his grandmother of all people. Further, he most certainly did not wish to think of her as filled with desire. Grandmothers did not desire. Yes, the thought was irrational, but it was also a matter he did not wish to consider, or even think on.
“You are to leave for Hollybrook Park as soon as you are packed,” his father announced as he stormed into the library.
“We can easily wait atleast a day,” Wesley argued. He didn’t want to arrive earlier than the other guests, especially if Miranda confirmed that she’d avoided the ball because she didn’t wish to have anything further to do with him. It would make for a damned awkward visit.
“Some matters need to be dealt with immediately.”
“What matters would those be, dear?” Grandmother asked.
“The residents of Laswell have lured a ship to the rocks.”
Laswell was the village not far from Forester Hall. Many of the residents were smugglers. Though, to Wesley’s knowledge, they’d not wrecked a ship in centuries. At one time it was a regular practice to lure ships to gain their cargo. Or that is what he’d been told, but the practice had ended during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, if he remembered correctly.
His father crossed the room and grabbed the decanter before pouring a glass of brandy.
“Why should that cause us to leave for Hollybrook Park sooner than intended?” As the words were said, Wesley’s stomach sank and he hoped his father had a reasonable explanation and not what he feared.
“Because the ship was from Bocka Morrow.”
“Bloody hell!” Wesley groaned as his fear was confirmed. “Why would they do so?” he demanded. An agreement was in place that when in need, Bocka Morrow would shelter Laswell ships and offer assistance, and the same assurance was given to ships from Bocka Morrow by Laswell residents. The two smuggling communities worked together and had for decades. Why would they break the agreement that had been in place for as long as Wesley could remember?
“I don’t yet know why they committed this travesty, but I intend to find out.” His grandmother thumped her cane then rose without hesitation, as if her bones no longer pained her. “You deal with the residents of Laswell and Wesley and I will see what we can do to repair this insult to Lynwood and the good residents of Bocka Morrow personally.”
Wesley blinked as he watched her march from the room. It was as if decades had slipped away and his grandmother now appeared to be the formidable woman of her youth.
Chapter 2
Though it should be Wesley who dealt with Lynwood, his grandmother was not going to remain mum. Smuggling was in her blood, and before her hands and back started to pain her, she’d often participated in loading and unloading cargo. It was a family business, and when goods arrived, everyone was down in the caves as soon as they were old enough to be of assistance and keep secrets, which is why he hadn’t bothered to hide the disturbing news from Lucinda, who was all of eighteen.
He had also assumed that it would take longer to reach Hollybrook Park since his grandmother was also traveling with them. Instead, she demanded they travel at an even quicker pace than he would have alone. She refused to stop at inns and insisted on sleeping in the carriage, taking quick meals, and resting only long enough to change the horses. Wesley was certain couples running off to Gretna Green took more time in their travels, but she was anxious to deal with the matter of the wrecked ship.
After they’d arrived, it was Lynwood who greeted them, the lines around his mouth grim.
“I apologize for arriving early but given the circumstances, I thought it best that we meet and discuss the matter before your other guests arrive.”
He nodded. “Do you know who is responsible?”
“Not here, boys,” his grandmother chastised. “We are still standing in the entry.”
Wesley had assumed Lynwood would be insulted by his grandmother’s tone, as they were the guests. Instead, Lynwood nodded.
“Yes, of course, Your Grace.” Then he studied Lucinda and Grandmother before he looked to Wesley. “Can I assume the females in your family are as much a part of our, um, shared interest as those in my family?”
Grandmother knocked Lynwood in his shin with her cane, causing him to wince.
“This mere female has more experience in the shared interest than the two of you combined.”
Lynwood’s face turned crimson. “Yes, well, then why don’t you get settled, and then we will all sit down to tea to discuss what to do about the situation,” Lynwood finally suggested.
“Excellent, young man,” his grandmother agreed.
“My wife has arranged for you to have the best chamber available, Your Grace,” Lynwood assured her. “And Lady Lucinda will be in the room next to yours.”
“Thank you, Lord Lynwood.”
Grandmother lifted the hem of her skirts and started up the stairs following the housekeeper.
“I’ve been told that your grandmother is not to be trifled with?” Lynwood whispered.
“I thought she’d mellowed over the years,” Wesley grumbled. “I was mistaken.”
Miranda stared at the three dresses on her bed, unable to decide which would be best to wear to tea. Normally this wouldn’t be a concern, but today they had guests—Marquess Epworth, his grandmother, and sister. They’d arrived a day ahead of the other wedding guests to discuss recent, disturbing events. She was shocked that her brother would waste time with a formal, polite tea when he should have been demanding answers the moment they’d arrived.
“Tea!”
Bocka Morrow had lost a good ship, not to mention the cargo, but thank goodness none of the crew had been harmed. Adam should demand compensation from His Grace. Instead, he was sitting down to tea with the duke’s son.
Tea!
If Grandfather were still alive, he’d not be having tea, but would have ridden to Forester Hall directly.
It was unforgivable what happened, and she’d hoped that Adam would deal harshly with Epworth and the smugglers of Laswell.
Instead, he was having tea.
Well, if Adam wouldn’t demand satisfaction, then she would. And to do so, she needed to present herself in a manner that would make everyone take notice.
Oh, why couldn’t His Grace come to discuss the situation instead of his son?
Miranda wasn’t ready to see Epworth again, but she needed to force aside her longing, pain and yes, the love she still held for him despite the rejection, so that they could address the more important issue at hand.
At least it gave her something more to focus on instead of wondering why he hadn’t called on her.
Miranda shook her head and returned her concentration to the dresses.
The yellow was flattering against her dark hair, but the blue complimented her eyes, whereas the pink was feminine.
She frowned. Frilly and feminine were for younger girls and Miranda had no desire to be dismissed so easily. Too often Adam forgot her age and treated her as if she still belonged in the schoolroom. She didn’t want Her Grace to make that same mistake. As for Epworth, well, she didn’t really care what he thought, Miranda lied to herself.
Unable to decide which would be appropriate, Miranda snatched the yellow and blue dresses off the bed and marched into the sitting room. “Which one would you recommend?”
Uncle Jonathan turned and raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Tea?”
“Just because you’ve invaded my attic does not mean I must act as a fashion consultant.”
She should have known better than to ask.
“Why does it matter? Has a gentleman come to call on you?”
He said the words with such unbelievable surprise that it hurt. Did her great-uncle not think any gentleman would have interest in her?
Was that the real reason she had so few callers when in London? Was that why Epworth hadn’t called on her after the kiss they had shared. And, even though he was here now, it had nothing to do with her.
“Oh, don’t get all emotional,” he complained. “That’s not how I meant my words to sound.” He fished the handkerchief out of his pocket and waved it before Miranda.
She simply stared at him. “I don’t think that is going to be of assistance.” She could see right through the linen as it was as ghostly as him. “But thank you for the offer.”
“I thought the guests weren’t due for another day.”
“Adam is to meet with the Marquess of Epworth, but they are having tea, instead of demanding answers and all because Epworth was accompanied by his grandmother and younger sister.” Though why the two couldn’t be entertained by others while she, Adam, and Epworth discussed the wreckage of the ship was beyond her.
Uncle Jonathan stilled for a moment then the corner of his lip twitched. “I hadn’t realized they’d arrived.”
“It’s not like you leave the attic when anyone is here,” Miranda reminded him.
“Just because you don’t see me beyond this room, does not mean I don’t visit other parts of Hollybrook Park,” he insisted then leaned back and folded his arms across his chest as if intrigued. “Why are they earlier than the others?”
She quickly explained about the ship from Bocka Morrow being lured by false lights and their wreckage. The more she spoke the deeper Uncle Jonathan frowned.
“This was near Laswell?”
“Yes. Do you know the area?”
He leveled a look. “I was a ship’s captain. I still know the coast as well as I know my name.” He turned his back on Miranda. “They haven’t wrecked a ship in centuries. There was an agreement.”
“Which is the purpose of the meeting. Adam intends to demand why this happened and what reparations will be offered.”
“Yes, as he should,” Uncle Jonathan offered thoughtfully as he stared out at the sea, his frown deepening.
“Well, I must hurry if I’m to be in time for tea.” Miranda darted for her chamber because she fully intended to be part of the discussion.
