A Season Beyond a Kiss (65 page)

Raelynn clasped the precious envelope to her bosom. “Thank you most kindly, Miss Vincent,” she replied, tearing up from sheer joy. Begging a gold coin from her husband, she paid the woman for her trouble. It was the very least she could do for such a wonderful gift.

The strumpet had never earned a gold coin in her life and, though she hadn’t been of a mind to be generous with her information when she had first arrived, she was now grateful enough to relate the rest of the message that the man whom she had known as Oliver Fenton had bade her to give to the girl. “He also said ta tell ye that it were Lord Marsden what killed Nell an’ that yer real Uncle Coop was drowned at sea when he were but a mere lad. Ol’ Coop sailed wit’ him then. That’s why he knew so much ’bout him. He’da’ve written all this down for ye himself, but he weren’t especially handy wit’ quill an’ ink. He did all right when he had ta, but writin’ out words weren’t somethin’ he was especially fond o’.”

Jeff was feeling especially benevolent himself after hearing what the woman had to say and gave her another gold piece for good measure. “My wife and I both thank you, Miss . . .”

“Just call me Trudy, gov’na,” the harlot replied with a buoyant grin. “ ‘At’s what everybody calls me.” She clutched the coins to her bosom. “I’m the one what should be thankin’ ye both for these here coins. Ol’ Coop . . .” She shook her head and began again. “ ‘At is, Oliver Fenton an’ me, we got on real good together. Afore he were killed, we were plannin’ on goin’ north an’ startin’ us up a pub. He said it weren’t safe livin’ here wit’ Mistah Fridrich an’ others always tryin’ ta do him hurt.” She heaved a sigh. “I ‘spect truer words weren’t ne’er spoken, seein’s as how he got his throat slit by that ol’ carp’s men. That Marsden fella guttin’ Nell were nigh as bad.”

Trudy sighed, deeply lamenting the girl’s death, before she peered up at Jeff again. “I knew Nell real good. Ye could say we were e’en friends. Once I tried ta talk some sense inta her ’bout followin’ ye ’round an’ a-moonin’ aftah ye. If’n ‘tweren’t for her thinkin’ herself in love wit’ ye, Mr. Birmin’am, she might ne’er’ve let that ‘ere Irish sea cap’n take her inta his bed whilst they were stayin’ at the same inn. She said he looked a powerful lot like ye, but he had ta sail off a couple o’ days later. What wit’ the short time he were humpin’ Nell, bet he don’t know he left his kid growin’ in her belly. One day maybe he’ll sail ’round this way again an’ I can tell him what a fine li’l boy he an’ Nell made together.”

Raelynn extended a hand in friendship to the woman. “Thank you for coming here today, Trudy,” she murmured as the harlot accepted her offering in some amazement. “Thus far, you’ve managed to enlighten us far better than anyone has managed to do. I’m immensely grateful, so much so I doubt that I could fully explain. Though at odd and sundry times I’ve perceived some of what you’ve told us to be true, I never knew the whole of it until now. I’m immensely relieved to discover that there is actually someone who is cognizant of the truth and can explain it in detail. Thank you for everything.”

“Ye’re kindly welcome, Miz Birmin’am.”

Jeff was not above asking the strumpet, “If my wife and I escorted you to the sheriff, would you be willing to relate all of this to him? It would make his investigation easier.”

Trudy thought about it briefly and then nodded. “I can do that, Mr. Birmin’am.” She shrugged. “ ‘Sides, I’d like ta see all o’ ’em murderin’ rascals locked up for a change instead o’ roamin’ free an’ doin’ their dirt ta right fine folk like ye an’ yer pretty missus.”

  
  O
AKLEY WAS THE SAME AS
R
AELYNN HAD REMEMBERED
it, but in many respects, she came home a changed woman. She now reveled in a newfound wealth of aspirations and expectations. She was fully confident that once barristers delivered Marsden’s document to trustworthy noblemen within close proximity to King George of England that in the not-too-distant future her father’s name would be cleared, whereupon Marsden’s accomplices, Lords Prescott and Havelock, would be arrested and brought to trial for treasonous acts against the Crown.

Thanks to Trudy, rumors were now making their way throughout the city of Charleston, carrying the news that Lord Marsden was Nell’s murderer, not Jeffrey Birmingham as many had supposed. Trudy was also letting it be known that an Irish sea captain had sired Nell’s son, and that here, too, Jeffrey Birmingham was totally innocent of the deed some had been wont to lay to him.

All of these revelations pleased Raelynn immeasurably, but she was also infinitely gratified that no question now remained in her own mind as well as others that she was Oakley’s mistress and beloved wife of Jeffrey Lawrence Birmingham, gentleman planter and entrepreneur
extraordinaire
. She was thrilled that she was going to bear him a child and fully confident that in years to come they would have many more. If providence proved kind, they would eventually grow old together and have grandchildren. At the present moment, however, she was thoroughly content to enjoy her happiness just as it was.

A few days after arriving home, the couple had gotten word that Rhys Townsend had returned to work, still suffering some from his wound, but nevertheless hale and hearty. Lord Marsden, on the other hand, had lapsed into a feverish coma brought on by a deepening infection. At the moment, Gustav Fridrich and his men were still sharing the same cell at the sheriff’s office, and Olney was still ensconced across the hall from them with the ailing Lord Marsden. It seemed that Olney was not willing to trust his life to his former employer or to be anywhere within vulnerable contiguity to him. He was ten thousand dollars richer now, having turned himself in to Sheriff Townsend to bear witness against Jeffrey Birmingham, erroneous though his story had been. Still, as far as Olney was concerned, he had earned the money, for he could have gone to parts unknown and retained his freedom. He could expect to spend a few years in prison for wounding Jeffrey Birmingham, whereas Fridrich would likely hang for all the murders he had bade his men to commit, none of which Olney had taken part in. The tars he had knifed in Fridrich’s defense, he kept to himself and fervently hoped the incident had been forgotten by the German, who had never been one to give much heed to favors he had been granted. Still, he could have pleaded self-defense, for at least one of them had tried to kill him. Fridrich, of course, had nothing more to lose by telling all, and if he remembered the incident, he would surely cause Olney trouble. After all, others’ lives meant nothing to him, which of course made Olney all the more willing to tell what he knew about the man and his operations, at least while he was privately sequestered with the sheriff.

The newlyweds, Farrell and Elizabeth, had come out to visit Jeffrey and Raelynn and had made a proposal that the latter could hardly resist. If Raelynn continued to supply them with an appropriate number of new fashion designs for the changing seasons, which she could work on at her leisure at Oakley, the couple would be happy to provide her, after the birth of her child, with complete wardrobes for every cycle of the year for as long as she cared to sketch new gowns for them. Not only would they benefit from her designs, but she would be a walking testament to the beautiful quality of clothes they made in their shop. Jeff allowed his wife to make the decision, drolly quipping that if she accepted, then he would be able to keep his money and still appease his desire to see her dressed in the height of fashion. Raelynn was delighted to take the couple up on their proposal. It was definitely work that she enjoyed, and as long as she could stay at Oakley where she was happiest, then it definitely seemed that she would be favored with the best from both worlds.

It was shortly after supper on a quiet, warm, early November evening that Kingston came into the dining room where the couple were lingering over their tea and coffee and announced that several wagons had stopped in front of the house. He went on to explain, “Dey be foreign folk, Mistah Jeffrey, Gypsies, I think dey call demselves. Anyways, dey be wantin’ ta know if yo’d be o’ a mind ta let ’em camp on your land tonight. Dey says dey’s on their way ta Georgia an’ doan means ta do yo’ or your land any bother, but earlier today, a couple o’ dere chilluns got sick from eatin’ fermented berries an’ de motion o’ the wagon is jes’ makin’ dem chillun dat much sicker. Dey says if’n yo’ be o’ a mind ta let ’em stay, they’d play some music fo’ yo’ befo’ dey goes a ways off an’ makes camp. Dey’s wantin’ yo’ ta knows, too, suh, dat dey’s honest folk, not given ta stealin’ or hurtin’ others. Dey makes a livin’ playin’ music, suh, an’ dat’s all.”

“Oh, how nice,” Raelynn warbled, taking her husband’s hand. She turned a smile upon him. “Would you be of a mind to let them stay, Jeffrey?”

Her husband readily yielded himself to her sparkling plea as he drew her from her chair. “I see no harm in letting them, madam, providing it’s only for one night.”

Slipping an arm through his, she laughingly bade, “Then come, Jeffrey. Let’s go outside on the porch where we can listen to their music.”

Arm in arm, they strolled out into the hall where Kingston awaited them with a shawl for his mistress. Jeff settled it around his wife’s slender shoulders and once more gallantly presented his arm as they stepped out onto the portico. To their amazement they found almost a dozen musicians with instruments in hand collecting on the front lawn. Only one spoke well enough to be understood, but even then, his efforts confused them. However, the melodious strains of his violin and the accompanying guitars, flutes and other violins transported the couple into a realm of rare pleasure. The music fell as silk upon their listening ears, stirring their hearts with joy and admiration. Whether lively or soothing, the tunes evoked pleasure, so much so that Raelynn soon found herself in her husband’s arms, being waltzed around the length and breadth of the porch.

Stars twinkled through the leaves and the gracefully sweeping limbs of the huge live oaks that encompassed the grounds. The fragrance of fall was in the air, eliciting a headiness that neither man nor woman could deny. They were happy, content and feeling wonderfully alive.

“My goodness, sir, you do go to a lady’s head,” Raelynn remarked in breathless wonder. “I haven’t been this entranced with a man since I was about three.”

“What happened when you were three, my love?”

“I can’t remember all of it, but I can recall being in a garden with my cat and my dolls and it started raining. We rarely get a downpour in England, just a soft, gentle rain. That’s the reason English gardens are so lovely, I suppose.” She laughed suddenly and shook her head at her whimsical memories. “Sometimes I wonder if I have just dreamed it all.”

Her husband’s eyes gleamed back at her as they caught the glow of the huge lanterns burning beside the front door. “My uncle had an estate in London, and when I was much younger, we used to visit him as a family. I remember being surprised by how cool it was there, at least compared to here. It rained almost every day.”

“That’s true,” Raelynn agreed with a soft laugh, and then stopped suddenly, caught by memory. “It’s odd but I think I’ve been dreaming about that lately.” She fell silent again, chasing a fleeting vision, really just a sensation. She was a child again, very small, in a garden, someone had lifted her high . . .

“Strange that you should say that, my love,” Jeff murmured.

“How so, Jeffrey? We dream about all sorts of different things.”

“True, but what you mentioned was somehow . . . familiar.” His brows gathered as he tried to recall what it was exactly. “I think I may have been dreaming about London recently myself.”

“Did it make such a great impression on you?” she asked teasingly.

“I liked it well enough, I suppose. I remember that my uncle’s estate had a walled garden our mother always raved about. She even brought a few of the plants back to Harthaven when we returned.”

“We had a walled garden on my father’s estate. It was my favorite place. I had the most wonderful adventures there, searching for elves and pixies.” She giggled. “I even met my Prince Charming.”

Jeff shot her an amused glance and laughed. “Should I be jealous, or was he some gallant squirrel, perhaps?”

“You have cause to be envious,” she goaded sweetly, dimpling. “I fell in love with him.”

Jeff’s brow jutted sharply upward as a lopsided grin turned his lips. “So tell me about this errant rogue who stole your heart. Was he as handsome as I?”

“Very princely in both manners and good looks.”

“What traits did you like best about this dandified coxcomb?”

Raelynn braced an elbow on his shoulder and musefully laid a finger alongside her cheek. “He had black hair, I think. An iron gate provided a passage through our walled gardens. I wandered into his one day, possibly in search of my cat. He saw me and took me back to my home. I remember feeling a little frightened when he lifted me onto his shoulder. They were very broad, as I remember.” Her smile deepened at her childhood fantasy. “And in case you’re wondering, it started raining.”

Jeff was now staring at her most peculiarly, so much so that Raelynn rushed to assure him, “He wasn’t really my Prince Charming, Jeffrey, but when I was so young, he seemed that way to me.”