Part 17 (1/2)
”I know. But he does. I'll explain later. Much later, or else you'll feel sorry for him, and he would sense that in a moment.” He tipped up her chin. ”Are you all right?”
Her cheeks turned a becoming pink. ”I'm fine, yes. Tanner, I-”
He touched his mouth lightly to hers, unable to resist any longer; a quick, stolen kiss, but with clinging lips and a soft sigh from Lydia when it was over. ”I can't wait to show you Malvern. I want you to love it.”
”I'm sure I already do,” she said quietly.
And both of them knew what they were really saying.
”We, um, we need to go now. They're waiting for us.”
”Yes, I-oh my goodness.”
Tanner looked past the just-opened door to the hulking shadow standing outside the doorway, a large black umbrella clutched in one ham-sized fist and held above his head. The man was clad all in black, a long cape swirling about his tree-trunk legs that were spread wide apart, as if he was keeping himself steady on the deck of a s.h.i.+p tossing on a stormy sea.
He stood nearly as wide as he was tall-and he was inordinately tall. His ma.s.sive head and considerable cheeks seemed to s.h.i.+ne by dint of the wall mounted candlelight reflecting off enormous quant.i.ties of rain-speckled black frizzed hair. His black eyes were impervious to the candlelight, however; they were flat and so devoid of expression that a fool would know there were no cheery thoughts going on anywhere inside that colossal head.
In short, the newcomer had all the jolly air about him of an undertaker come for the body of the deceased and determined to be paid in advance for the courtesy.
No wonder Lydia was now clasping his hand so tightly.
”Ah, Wigglesworth,” Tanner said, attempting to keep a straight face, for he had been witness to this reaction many times. ”Thank you for coming back for us.”
”You're most entirely welcome, Your Grace,” Wigglesworth said, delicately stepping out from behind the giant and entering the small foyer. Clad all in impeccable light grey, down to his hose and kid shoes, not a raindrop marred the thick silk or wilted the ma.s.ses of lace at his throat and wrists.
Wigglesworth was the picture of sartorial perfection, albeit one that would have been painted two decades previously. The only impediments to perfection were his size (bantam roosters might be taller, or at the least, carry more weight), and the fact that he possessed the high-pitched voice of a lady who has just discovered a mouse in her pudding.
He swept off his wide-brimmed hat-the one with the snowy white plume curling about it-displaying a finely powdered periwig, and made an elegant leg toward Lydia.
”My lady, your servant.”
”We'll go with you now,” Tanner said once Justin's servant had turned and made another elegant bow in his direction.
”How very gracious. Only at your convenience and in your own good time, Your Grace,” Wigglesworth trilled. ”Brutus and I are content to await your pleasure. Brutus, having delivered our invitation to His Grace and his lady, I am ready to make progress to my coach, if you please. He'll return directly for you, Your Grace. Tell them you'll be back directly, Brutus.”
The giant grunted low in his throat and then smiled a smile that would make lesser men-perhaps even dozens at a time, and all well-armed-call out for their mothers.
”Very nicely done,” Wigglesworth complimented the man. ”And now-Brutus, up!”
Brutus flung back one side of his cloak and picked up Wigglesworth at the waist as if he weighed no more than a feather. His plumed hat now in his hand, Wigglesworth disappeared beneath the cloak and Brutus turned away from the doorway.
”No wonder his pretty slippers are so clean. Brutus?” Lydia said, her eyes wide as if she'd just seen something very singular. Which she had.
”Hmm, yes,” Tanner said, believing he needed to explain Brutus to her. ”He doesn't speak. He may be able to, but no one has ever said. Probably because no one has ever dared to inquire. Justin may know, as Brutus is his discovery, but it would be impolite to ask.”
”What an odd pair the two of them are. Or should I say the three of them?”
”Justin would be the first to tell you he doesn't like being thought ordinary.”
”Yes, that's rather obvious. I like him very much, but I will confess that I don't truly understand why he's chosen to be the way he is. I'm convinced there's so much more driving him than that unfortunate duel and having to be gone from England for so long.”
”The duel and banishment weren't enough? He's got some other deep, dark secret? No, there's nothing. He's simply Justin. Someday, hopefully, he'll find someone who will force him to not just laugh at the vagaries of life, but to become a part of it,” Tanner said thoughtfully. ”He deserves that, and I think he's made his beginning. In the meantime, we'll just enjoy him for the good friend he is. In any event, for now you'll admit the partners.h.i.+p between Brutus and Wigglesworth is a good one. Would you listen to Wigglesworth if he strutted into your kitchen, demanding he be allowed to commandeer it for his master?”
”He hasn't a very commanding appearance, no,” she said, smiling.
”Ah, but then Brutus enters behind him, and everyone in the kitchens is suddenly all smiles and how may I a.s.sist you. Justin thinks he's a genius to have thought of it, which he did after the first time Wigglesworth found his lovely suit of clothes with himself inside it deposited on the dung heap. He also told me that the only person who doesn't realize what's going on is Wigglesworth, who believes it is his own consequence that opens all doors for him. Now, quickly, as it's still raining fairly heavily, do you want Brutus to carry you to the coach?”
”Would it be terrible of me to admit that, even if the man is relatively harmless, I'd probably rather drown than to disappear inside that cloak?”
”I was hoping you'd say that.” Tanner bent and scooped her up into his arms as the very large Brutus and the equally large umbrella stood once more just outside the doorway. She clung to his neck and he carried her across the innyard to the coach, Brutus trotting along beside him, the umbrella covering them.
Justin pushed the door open and Tanner deposited Lydia inside, then entered the coach himself, a rather ungainly move, as Brutus had decided to give him a helpful boost that nearly sent him headfirst into the other door.
”Lose your footing?” Justin asked, outwardly all concern.
”No, I always enter my coach on my knees,” Tanner grumbled as Lydia grinned down at him.
”How odd. But, if it makes you happy, who am I to cavil?”
”We've got more than five hours to be packed in here together unless the rain stops, Justin,” Tanner pointed out as he picked himself up and deposited himself on the seat beside his friend, across from the ladies, who would be allowed to ride in the forward-facing seats. ”Don't make me have to shoot you before we're out of the innyard.”
”Ah, touche! Lovely day for a drive,” Justin went on quickly. ”I must come to the country more often. It's so...bucolic.”
”I can't wait to be back at Malvern,” Jasmine said, oblivious to Justin's facetiousness, as she was lamentably oblivious to most anything that didn't affect her directly, Tanner had decided. He shot her a look as she launched into a tangled ma.s.s of description of his home that wouldn't have had him recognizing it if he hadn't known the subject of her ramblings, and held up a hand to interrupt her.
”Jasmine? What's wrong with your face?”
”My face?” she responded in shocked tones, raising a hand to her left cheek, which was just where he had been looking. ”Nothing's wrong with my face. What a horrid thing for you to say to me, Tanner.”
He didn't consider himself to be on a par with a Bow Street Runner, but he did have some powers of observation. Jasmine was right-handed. If she were to touch her face in response to his question, she should have raised her right hand, to her right cheek. But she'd raised her left hand, to her left cheek. ”Are you wearing powder?”
”I most certainly am not wearing-” She looked at her gloved hand as she took it away from her cheek, and saw the powder that had transferred to the leather, leaving a faint outline of her fingers on her reddened skin...rather as if she'd just slapped herself. ”Oh! Oh, I hate you!”
”Rice powder and raindrops don't do well together, do they?” Justin said, handing Jasmine a handkerchief he'd slipped from his waistcoat. ”But shame on you, Tanner. I was fully prepared to sit here for the time it takes us to slog through the countryside to your ancestral home without ever once mentioning that Jasmine's face had begun to, well, run. That's the sign of the true gentleman, you know. There are many others. Should I write them down for you?”
Jasmine sobbed into the handkerchief, which wasn't affecting Tanner as she probably supposed it should. He looked to Lydia, whose blue eyes were twinkling in humor at the way Justin had been teasing him. Well, wasn't it lovely that they were both so amused. He'd like to be amused, too, but Jasmine was difficult to ignore, for he knew her tears could soon escalate to a full-out bout of hysterics. Lord knew he'd witnessed enough of them over the years. ”Do you know what the devil's going on here?”
”I do, yes. Jasmine told me she tripped over the hem of her dressing gown last night, and her cheek collided with...the doorjamb. But we concluded that she hadn't broken anything.”
”The doorjamb is intact? How wonderful.”
”Justin,” Tanner growled, ”don't help. Jasmine, are you sure you're all right? You should have told me. We could have remained at the inn another day, until you'd recovered, even brought in a doctor to check on you. Is the cheek very painful? It looks swollen, too, now that I can really see it.”
”It's horribly painful,” Jasmine said, sniffling. ”And now you're telling me that I'm ugly. How could Papa think I should want to marry you?”
Once again Tanner looked to Lydia, mutely appealing for help while at the same time mulling the idea that riding atop the coach, even in this downpour, would be preferable to listening to Jasmine.