Page 11 of The Captain of Betrayal
"Who did you say gave this to you?" Olive asked curiously, wrenching Polly from her thoughts as Jane handed the ring back to her.
"A friend," Polly whispered, slipping the heavy thing back over her finger. "Years ago, when we were both children. It belonged to his mother..."
"Who was his mother and how did she come to possess such a thing?" Jane pondered, not realising the weight of her question.
Mrs Flora Black had been an idol of sorts to the young Polly Jenkins, who had often wondered over the years how such a proud, educated woman had been led astray by the Earl of Ludlow. The man must have been a rake of the highest order, to have abandoned his mistress and son to a life of poverty.
"His mother was, I think, the mistress of an Earl," Polly whispered, her hand gripping the back of the overstuffed chair that she stood beside. "When I was twelve, Mrs Black died and a man came to take James away to London. He must have been a steward of some sort, now that I look back on it, but at the time I was too young to understand. Before James left Newcastle, he gave me this ring to remember him by. I can only assume that the Earl gave it to James' mother..."
"Who was the Earl, Polly?" Olive asked, her eyes wide at the tale. "Goodness, perhaps we know him? Perhaps we know this James fellow too?"
"I can't remember his name," Polly lied, for Olive had just given voice to her worst fear. She did not wish to see James Black, nor the man he had turned into. Entitled, snobbish, condescending; Jane shuddered at what her old friend might be like now, probably far worse than what he had been in London. Perhaps he now had a pot belly from over indulgence, a receding hair line and a bad case of gout--this thought made her smile a little wickedly before she continued; "And I have no idea where James might be--though I wonder if he now realises the worth of the ring?"
"Well, he can't possibly ask for it back, it was a gift," Olive shrugged, as though this solved the matter.
Any more talk of the ring or James was mercifully interrupted by the sound of the Hamilton twins, guests of the boarding house, barrelling through the front door, followed by Emily.
"Gracious," Polly smoothed her skirts, "I hadn't realised the time. I have to start preparing tea and then arrange everything for the reading. Not to mention that we now have two extra guests in Lord and Lady Delaney..."
"Can I be of any help, Polly?" Jane volunteered gamely, but Polly waved her offer away with a grateful smile.
"No duck, but thank you. You'd both best be getting back to Pemberton--I shall see you this evening."
The Duchess and future Duchess left with cheerful waves, leaving Polly to busy herself with the work that needed to be done. The boarding house had once been managed by a rather eccentric lady called Mrs Barker, who had run the inn as a sort of refuge for young ladies with an intellectual disposition. The guests were an eclectic mixture of artists, writers, and ladies who just did not fit in with fashionable set in town. Polly adored the house, which had a library filled with books, and the guests, who had shown her that women were just as capable as men at academics.
At night, when all the guests were sleeping, Polly would often slip down to the library and read by candle-light for hours. As a child, she had longed for enough money to buy a membership to the Literary and Philosophical Society so that she could use their library--now here she was at eight and twenty, with a library all of her own!
"Is it tripe again, Polly?" Emily, as usual had entered the room silently, causing Polly to start when she spoke.
"No, it's haddock," Polly mildly replied, throwing an apron to her younger sister, who wrapped the garment over her dress and began to prep the vegetables. The Jenkins sisters worked in companionable silence, their movements quick and fluid. Emily had come out of her shell since arriving in St Jarvis and was friends with everyone in the village. When they had lived in Bristol, by the port, Polly had been loathe to let the young woman travel too far from their home, for a bustling city was filled with knaves and blackguards, who would prey on a person as soft as Emily.
As the fish stew bubbled merrily in the pot, Emily happily described her afternoon adventures with the Hamilton twins. They had walked down to the cove, on the far side of the village, where Poppy and Alexandra had spent a few hours teaching Emily about the various crustaceans who lived in the water.
Polly felt a stab of guilt, as she watched Emily's animated expression; she should have brought her to a place like St Jarvis years ago. Indeed, just after Polly had begun to work for the Duke of Everleigh, a young fisherman had proposed marriage to her and offered to look after both Polly and Emily in his village on the coast. What had stopped Polly from saying yes was that she strongly believed the only person who knew what was right for Emily was her —though she now realised that her protectiveness had hampered her sister's chances of living a free and happy life.
"Why do you look so sad Polly?" Emily questioned, breaking through her thoughts. "Is it the stew? I know it smells terrible, but I'm sure it will taste divine."
"Away with you saying my stew smells terrible," Polly laughed, swatting at her younger sister with a dishrag. Emily had a talent for making rather blunt observations,the kind that most people would keep to themselves; it was part of her charm. "I'm just feeling sad that we didn't move to St Jarvis years ago, for it's such a lovely place."
"Oh, don't feel sad about that," Emily wore a perplexed look on her innocent face, "You can't change the past silly, so you must not feel sad about it."
Her sister's simple wisdom gave Polly heart, and she scurried about, finishing off tea, with a happier spring in her step. Once all the guests had eaten, the table was cleared and everyone made their way to the drawing room to wait for Mrs Actrol's reading. Polly served tea to her guests and welcomed the Duchess of Everleigh, Lady Payne, and the newlywed Lord and Lady Delaney as they arrived.
Once everyone was seated with a cup of tea in hand, the magnificent Mrs Actrol began to read the first chapter of her novel, in a dramatic, booming voice. The ladies hung on her every word, though Polly noted that the Marquess of Falconbridge wore a rather impatient expression as the tale unfolded. When a loud rapping at the door interrupted Mrs Actrol as she was finishing off the first chapter, Lord Delaney stood quickly, insisting that he answer the door, despite Polly's protests.
"He's evidently not an admirer of Gothic romances", Olive had whispered into Polly's ear as the Marquess positively fled the room. Polly had stifled a snort of amusement at the look of relief on Lord Delaney's handsome face as he escaped.
The Marquess did not return instead a curious Emily, who had tailed him into the hallway came back to fetch Hestia to join her husband and whoever it was that had knocked on the door. A part of Polly felt that she should go and offer the newcomer some refreshments, but Olive had told her it was unnecessary.
"Lord Delaney has business with one of the Duke's captains," she had whispered. "It is probably he--I'm sure if they can't master the art of boiling a kettle, they'll come fetch you."
Lord Delaney and the captain had obviously managed, between them both, to make a cup of tea, for they did not return. Emily slipped through the door a few minutes after leading Hestia to her husband, wearing a look of excitement on her face. She kept glancing at Polly, and smiling with delight--leaving Polly to wonder what this captain was like? Emily adored grand men in uniforms, and Polly had an awful suspicion that this captain must be very handsome, to have her sister grinning so.
Mrs Actrol's reading came to an end and the ladies of the house fell into a spirited conversation about the book's characters. Poppy Hamilton was in the middle of extolling the merits of the male lead, when the Marquess popped his head around the door.
"Ladies, my wife and I must take our leave. Will you be travelling with us, your Grace?"
"I suppose I shall, it is rather late," Olive replied with a yawn. "Thank you for having us Polly, and thank you Mrs Actrol for such a riveting reading."
