chapter 25
So for Jack it was about the money. Caroline twisted away and sat up, tugging the sheet to cover her nakedness. “You’re right. I should be practical for the baby. I don’t want any harm to come to this child because I find it hard to endure.”
Jack sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She would have pushed him away, except his hand curled protectively around her stomach.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Has something changed? Has Broadhurst threatened you?”
“No. Nothing’s changed.” Except she could no longer stand the emptiness of her life. What would be best for the child, the cold sterile life filled with things or two loving parents? She knew the answer, but she hated that the world valued wealth and legitimacy more than love.
Jack’s fingers tightened and then he splayed them out, gently rubbing them across her belly. His unfettered passion earlier had surprised her, but also lifted her to new heights. When it seemed he couldn’t get enough of her, she believed it was because he truly loved her. But it was easy for a woman to delude herself into believing a man cared more than he did.
She just didn’t know if he loved her, or he loved the life he could have if she wanted him after Mr. Broadhurst was gone. Or was he truly concerned about giving the best life possible to his baby?
Jack was a good man, and he hated receiving handouts. She didn’t know a harder worker. He didn’t just treat his clerical duties as tasks to be put aside when the day expired. He learned more than he needed to know, always searching for the why of what they did. And on more than one occasion he’d returned from being summoned to the working side of the mill, dirty from disassembling and repairing the machinery, when it was no longer his responsibility. He thought more like an owner than an employee. He had the right attitude to be successful, he just lacked money and opportunity.
And unless his attitude had changed, he would find being her cicisbeo demeaning. But was it about the money?
“Don’t you want the mill anymore?” he asked.
Everything came tumbling out, about how she might have made a mistake ordering cotton from Egypt and the Americas, how the mill’s costs were too high because other mills employed more women at three-quarters wages, but there was no other industry in the village to employ men. Her half-baked plan to build a warehouse to give better jobs to the men, and how that was only temporary. Once the cotton was gone there would be an empty building. And if the mill couldn’t turn a profit, it was moot anyway.
Jack listened and took her back to her reasoning for her decisions. And made her remember she had a concern Broadhurst had never faced, and she had made a decision she believed in and that might yet be the best.
“Or I may have ruined everything,” she said. “If it turns out badly, Mr. Broadhurst will make sure I never get control of the mill.”
“He wants this baby to be his heir, doesn’t he?”
Caroline lifted a shoulder. “Only if it is a boy.”
Making a sound of displeasure, Jack pushed his cheek against hers. “I would take you away, if I had a thing to offer you, but, Caro, I live in a storeroom. I can’t provide for you.”
“And I can’t cook,” she moaned.
“You shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have to come down in the world to be with me,” he whispered fiercely. “You deserve so much more.”
She took in the room, the narrow stairs leading up to what was probably the midwife’s living quarters. Near the bed an upended crate served as his night table. The lamplight fell on a book lying spine up with its pages splayed. He had come a long way if he was reading in bed. She squinted at the subtitle, India-Rubber Industry in England. A sheaf of papers probably held his plans.
“My family could take us in.”
He sighed and leaned back, away from her. “I never want your family to feel about you as I feel about my family.”
She twisted, looking back at him. “But I have earned their support. I have paid for it a thousand times over—or Mr. Broadhurst’s money has.”
“You have. I haven’t. It’s not a solution, Caro.” He put his hand over his face.
Her family would support her, but there would be costs. “I just hate every minute with him. I used to think kindly of him and that his abrasiveness was just the product of his keen business sense. I worked hard to be fond of him, but I feel dead around him. And it is a terrible thing for me to go to bed wishing for his death, wake up in the morning wishing for his death, so I can feel alive? What kind of a person does that make me?”
“If you are a bad person, I am worse, because there is nothing I’d like to do more than end it for him.”
Her heart squeezed.
He gave her a rueful smile. “I think it, but I would not do it. I wanted to be successful like him, but not in that way. Perhaps I am not ruthless enough to be a business magnate.”
“Never say that. You are smart and you have good ideas. You will accomplish great things. Even Mr. Smythe is impressed with your understanding and competence. Mr. Broadhurst would have given you your congé a long time ago if you were not upstaging all the other clerks, who had the advantage of education.”
“I know. Given my background, I have to show that I am better, to be considered equal.” Jack rubbed his face. “I’m trying. I work so hard to get to where I should have been a decade ago. It just seems that every time I take a step in the right direction I am pulled down.”
He leaned over and grabbed the crutches leaning against the wall at the foot of his bed. “I have done this with rubber.” He showed her where he’d covered the handle sections, the top crossbar, and tips with rubber. “It is not exactly the most lucrative idea I’ve ever had, but it makes the crutches much easier to hold and less likely to slip. I’m sure this could really help people.”
Her heart melted. She hugged him to her.
“And I am working to make my brace more comfortable and better functioning. The rubber, even though it has a sweet smell, can stink to high heaven when I’m heating it. Mrs. Goode is not fond of my experiments. I will have to find a place, buy machinery and supplies before I can truly make anything come of my ideas.”
And he was trying to get there on a clerk’s wages.
An idea so perfect it was scary came to her. “Jack, would you consider a partnership?”
The door rattled.
“Bloody hell,” muttered Jack as he pushed her down and shielded her with his body. “Don’t move. Mrs. Goode is back.”
The danger of discovery rushed back fourfold. If Mr. Broadhurst ever learned she was with Jack . . .
Caroline tiptoed down the silent hall and retrieved her room key from the pocket of her cloak. Wincing every time it clicked against the metal of the lock, she turned it and whirled inside her room.
It was wrong. A lamp she hadn’t lit burned. Her heart jumped to her throat. Dreading what she would see, she slowly turned. The connecting door to her husband’s room was open, and he sat in one of the armchairs.
“I provide you with gentlemen and you lay with that ill bred cur.” Mr. Broadhurst’s low voice cut through her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She drew herself up. “I couldn’t sleep. I went for a walk.”
Her mind spun trying to come up with an explanation for locking the doors. How long had Mr. Broadhurst known she was gone?
He closed the gap between them and caught her arms in a bruising grip. “Is that child his?”
“Unhand me.”
He shook her until her teeth rattled. “I saw you with him. Not hard to identify a lame man from a distance.”
Jack had used his crutches, rather than strap on his brace when he escorted her back after Mrs. Goode went upstairs to her quarters. Caroline’s knees buckled. What had she done?
“Is it?” demanded Mr. Broadhurst.
“He reminded me of you, or at least how I imagined you must have been when you were young.”
His hand connected with her face with a resounding clap. Caroline spun away with the force of his blow and tasted the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. With her tongue, she probed at her teeth, making sure they were all in place.
“He is nothing but a useless cripple. Our baby could be born with a shriveled leg.”
She straightened. “That is the most ignorant thing I have ever heard.”
“How could he remind you of me? I was not living in my father’s house at his age, I had my own.” Mr. Broadhurst paced the room, for once moving fast.
“You said yourself, he is intelligent with good business instincts.”
“How could you do this to me?” he demanded.
“I do this ‘to you’!” Incredulity exploded out of her. She followed him and poked him in the chest when he turned at the wall. “You did this. You put me in the most god-awful position.” She poked again. “No gentleman in the world would have asked this of a faithful wife. You are a knave and aren’t fit to wipe his feet.”
Her husband stared at her with such coldness, her insides turned to liquid. Oh God, she had to get word to Jack.
“Don’t you dare think of harming him.”
“I wouldn’t dirty my hands.” His gaze turned distant, calculating.
His reassurance left her cold. He might not sully his own hands, but he would have no compunction about others getting their hands dirty in his stead. How could she get Jack away from here?
“Oh!” She put her hand to her belly and doubled over.
Mr. Broadhurst didn’t make a move.
“Ow!” Caroline reached out, grabbing his arm as if she were in agony. “Something is wrong.”
“If you lose that baby, I will have no use for you,” said Broadhurst. He shot his cuffs. He had likely never undressed. “I will send for the doctor.”
“No! The midwife is closer.” She grabbed her belly with both hands. Forcing hard fast breaths in and out, Caroline managed a fairly credible moan. “Send for Mrs. Goode, ple-ease.”
Instead of leaving the room to find a servant, her husband walked to the bellpull and yanked it.
When Jack opened the door to Caroline’s stricken maid, his heart jolted. He knew he had been too rough with Caroline and now she was having pains and summoning Mrs. Goode.
Mrs. Goode departed with her satchel, and he strapped on his brace and followed. The darkness would cloak him, and if he waited in the shadows just at the edge of trees he could learn the news as soon as Mrs. Goode exited the house.
Oh God, she couldn’t lose the baby. It would destroy her. He’d watched her over the last few months. When she thought no one was looking, she would put a hand against her stomach and a Madonna-like smile would cross her face. If he had caused a miscarriage, he’d never forgive himself.
After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Goode finally emerged. She descended the steps and started toward town.
“Mrs. Goode,” called Jack, half skipping to try and catch her. “Is Caro—Mrs. Broadhurst all right?”
Mrs. Goode swiveled and stared at him. “Do you know what you’re doing, Jack?”
Agony cut through him. “Is the baby . . . ?”
“The baby is fine. Mrs. Broadhurst is fine, except having some sort of hysterics that made her light-headed. For all she is claiming pain in her belly, she isn’t cramping or bleeding or showing any signs of a problem.”
Jack nearly collapsed on the drive.
Mrs. Goode walked faster. “Her husband never left her side.”
Ignoring the pain in his bad leg, Jack hurried to keep up.
“I don’t suppose you know anything about the bruise on her face.” Mrs. Goode looked over her shoulder.
Dear God, had Broadhurst hit her? He never should have hit her.
“Jack, keep walking with me,” said Mrs. Goode in a low undertone.
He looked behind him and could see no reason for her alarm. The house looked the same as ever, imposing, proclaiming wealth beyond what he could imagine.
“She wanted me to warn you that he knows.”
Jack cringed. He shouldn’t have been so selfish as to allow her to come to him. He should have been content waiting until she was free, even if it took a hundred years. He shouldn’t have even been here to risk temptation. He should have been in London making himself worthy of her.
“Do you know what happened to his first two wives?” asked the midwife.
“I suspect they didn’t actually both kill themselves,” said Jack.
“Maybe his first wife did. I don’t know,” said Mrs. Goode. “She was miserable she didn’t conceive. But within a week of her death, he was engaged to the daughter of the richest man in these parts. I suppose compared to what he has now, she wasn’t that well off.”
Jack watched Mrs. Goode’s wrinkled face.
“Less than a year after he married her, her entire family perished in a fire while visiting. She only got out by jumping from a window. He was working late at the mill. There were those who said the fire was too fast to have been an accident. He built his mansion on the spot, even though she begged him to move elsewhere.”
“I know he brought home the current Mrs. Broadhurst a few weeks after his second wife died.”
“Got too old, she did. Was going through the change. But was happy as a lark. She liked being rich, didn’t like children. No one ever believed she would have hanged herself. He was working late at the mill then too.”
A chill went through him. How much danger was Caroline in?
“Don’t fancy my shop and house being burned down. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”
Where the hell was he supposed to go? And how the hell could he leave Caroline with that madman?
Jack turned to go back to the mansion.
Mrs. Goode grabbed his arm and tugged. He ended up sprawled on the packed gravel of the drive.
“Sorry, but you’re not going back there if I have to stand on you.”
Caroline stared in the looking glass. All the purple and redness of the bruise on her cheek was gone. The tiny remaining yellow smudge was almost completely faded and would be unnoticeable to most. She needed to return to work today.
She’d already spent a fortnight at home, pretending to recover from her imaginary almost miscarriage, but really waiting for the bruise to fade.
Her maid opened her door and carried a breakfast tray to the small table near the window where the sun was just peeking in. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. There’s another.”
“Who is it this time?” sighed Caroline. Her family had swarmed on her like a horde of locusts. They’d taken one look at her face and burrowed in around her. She had no idea how her family knew to come, but she was grateful for their presence. But each time she asked why they had shown up, they said Robert had sent them. She hoped that meant Jack had gotten to Robert and was safe with him.
First, her mother arrived insisting that she must be with her daughter through the birth of her grandchild. Why she felt the need to attend this grandchild’s birth, when she hadn’t bothered with the last six grandchildren’s births, didn’t make sense. Then dragging their husbands with them, the twins showed up within minutes of each other, finishing each other’s sentences and insisting Caroline needed to take the air sandwiched between them on an hourly basis. Next, Amelia popped in and insisted they would all have to take an extended shopping trip because “babies needed so many things.” Marshaling for battle, Sarah sailed in a few days later.
“Your brother, Lord Nesham, is just arrived,” her maid told her.
Finally, she might get some answers. “Have Mrs. Burns put him in the drawing room.”
She tilted to look out the window. A lathered horse was being led to the stables. Goodness, Robert must have ridden hard through the night to arrive so early in the morning.
No matter what they said, she was breaking free of her family’s cocoon and going into the mill office today. With or without Mr. Broadhurst’s support, she would set in motion plans to build a warehouse for the cotton shipments likely to swamp them in the fall. Whether it would be throwing good money after bad or not, the worst thing they could do was be unprepared for its arrival. She didn’t know if Jack would accept a partnership to found his business, but she was proceeding as if he would.
Her family’s presence meant she hadn’t spent one second alone with Mr. Broadhurst and he was forced to act as a gentlemen would. Every night one or more of her siblings decided to have a comfortable coze, sitting on her bed until Caroline fell asleep. But not having a minute alone to reflect on what had happened was starting to wear on her.
She rubbed her hand across the mound of her belly, which seemed to increase each day. Still, each day she went without hearing from Jack was a nightmare.
Forcing down the tea and toast that would help keep her stomach from rebelling, Caroline sat on the edge of her chair. Beyond wanting answers from Robert, she was restless. Her sleep had been fitful and she woke to nightmares of Jack calling and her not being able to get to him in time. Where was he?
She pushed her plate back and went downstairs to search out her brother. Learning he was closeted with her husband in his study, she paced the hall outside.
After a while she tried the door, but found it locked.
Leaning an ear against the wood, she heard nothing. She knocked and then knocked again.
The door cracked. “I said we weren’t to be disturbed,” said Robert in an imperious voice. “Oh, it is you.” His tone softened.
He smelled of horse and looked unkempt. How odd.
Her stomach roiled in response to the strong tang of horse sweat. She put her fingers over her mouth, cursing the weakness the pregnancy evoked. “What are you doing?”
“I needed to go over a few things with Mr. Broadhurst this morning. Go to the drawing room and wait.”
Behind him she thought she heard a weak cry.
She rose on her toes.
“Go now, Caro.” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “Jack will be here any minute.” Then he shut the door in her face.
Jack would be here? Her heart hammering in her chest, she ran to the front door and opened it. Two carriages were starting down the drive. One she recognized as her brother’s, the other was plain and black.
She ran down the steps and bounced. Surely Jack was in her brother’s carriage. And he couldn’t come here. But oh God, she wanted to see him again. She needed to see him again.
The carriages drew to a halt at the base of the stairs. Like ants escaping an anthill, men wearing black suits and black hats emerged out of the vehicles.
One touched the brim of his hat, but for the most part she was ignored as they swarmed past her. Then Jack descended the carriage steps. His face was determined, but the corners of his mouth lifted in acknowledgment of her as he moved toward the stairs. She wanted to hug him, but she didn’t know who the men were.
“It will be over soon, Caro,” he said in a low undertone as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
His fingertips went unerringly to the last of the bruise on her cheek and his brown eyes narrowed.
“He will never hurt you again.” He stepped back and glanced toward the door. “Shall we go inside?”
“I’ve been so worried about you,” she whispered.
“We’ll have time for talking later,” Jack said. He pivoted and walked up the stairs rapidly, like a man with two legs would. His steps had only the slightest hitch.
She dashed at the stupid tears forming in her eyes and followed him.
Two of the men held Mr. Broadhurst by the arms. He was pale and sweaty. His eyes scanned the hall and lit on her.
“Mrs. Broadhurst, send for the . . .” He tilted his head, looking puzzled. “ . . . tea trolley. If we sit down in my office, we can reach a reasonable solution.” He twisted left and right looking at the men holding his arms. “What was it you wanted to discuss?”
“The conspiracy and murder of Thomas Whitton.”
Dear heavens, they were arresting Mr. Broadhurst.
Robert folded back into a corner, his head down. Her mother and sisters stood on the stairs hanging onto one another, their blue eyes big and round in their pretty faces. Caroline had the strongest urge to block Jack’s view of them. But he was glowering at Robert, not ogling her beautiful sisters.
“You left me,” said Jack.
Robert lifted a shoulder. “I had to make certain his affairs were in order.”
Caroline had the oddest sensation the room was tilting. Apparently, Mr. Broadhurst felt it too, because he collapsed, and no amount of shaking by the men roused him.
Then blackness closed in from the edges of her vision, until there was just a pinprick of light, then nothing.
The acrid smell made Caroline retch. She pushed away the hand holding a vile substance under her nose.
“Give her room to breathe,” said Jack.
She opened her eyes to find her sisters and mother leaning over her. She scanned until she found Jack behind them. Pushing to sit up, she realized she was on a sofa in the library instead of in the hall.
“Wh-What happened?”
“I’m afraid I’ve some bad news.” Her mother patted her hand. “Your husband has passed away.”
That wasn’t bad news, but Caroline focused on Jack’s face. His lips tightened. Why would Mr. Broadhurst’s death make him angry?
“I’m afraid the shock of being arrested must have made his heart give out,” said her mother. “We’ve sent for the doctor, but he is no longer breathing. I’m very sorry, but if you’re feeling better, I need to see to the men from Scotland Yard. And, well, make arrangements for the body.” She let her daughter’s hand drop. Grimacing, she looked directly at Jack. Then she rose to full height and commanded imperiously, “Come on, girls, let’s give your sister a bit of privacy.”
Amy leaned close and whispered in her ear. “I’ve never seen a man move so fast. Then he carried you in here, even though Robert said he shouldn’t.”
As her sisters filed out, Jack’s eyes never left hers. The door clicked behind them.
“Jack,” she sighed. Had he really carried her? She looked down at his leg. “Did you fix your brace?”
He lifted his trouser leg and showed her the rubber sleeve attached to the metal bars and leather straps. “I can almost run with it. Still a few kinks, but I haven’t had time to work on it.”
She smiled. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried.”
“If you had made it into the mill office, my brother would have given you my letter. He tried to bring it here, but they wouldn’t let him see you. He even brought Beth, thinking she might be allowed in, but I told him to put it directly in your hands only.”
Caroline put her fingers to the fading bruise. “Mr. Broadhurst didn’t want anyone to see my bruise.”
“Might have been difficult to explain why he attacked his pregnant wife.” Jack pulled his hands behind his back. “I cabled your brother you were in danger, and then wrote him what I knew. Apparently, your father had grown suspicious after your marriage and had the direction of some servants who were working here when Mr. Broadhurst’s second wife died. While they made statements about their suspicions, there wasn’t enough proof of her murder.
“But after your brother and I compared notes, and you told me about the highway man’s description, I remembered a man who used to be a dray driver. The man said he came into some money and quit working, but everyone suspected he still did odd jobs for Mr. Broadhurst. I told Scotland Yard and was able to take them to the man. Lord Langley identified him and his coat. Once the man knew he was to hang, he sang like a canary about working for Broadhurst.”
Jack’s mouth flattened. “We were coming to arrest him, but your brother decided to rush ahead. I guess he thought it best to make sure there had been no further changes to the will. Said Broadhurst needed to take his medicine.”
Her mind spun as she processed the information. She was a widow. Her husband had been arrested for Mr. Whitton’s murder and possibly his late wife’s. “His medicine,” she repeated dully. The foxglove the doctor had warned her about. Robert had been given the warning too. “Robert was probably giving him a chance to keep his name from being dragged through the mud.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Jack dryly.
When he had a chance to think about it, Jack would realize the scandal would have touched his child too, if a trial took place. She stared at him standing out of reach. She patted the sofa beside her. “Will you come sit down?”
“If I get close to you, I cannot guarantee I will ever let you go.”
“Why would I want you to?”
“Just one more thing,” he said, taking a step back. “I would very much like to be in a partnership with you for a rubber works, if you do not mind that I focus on medical uses instead of applications that might make more money.”
“Of course.” She stood to go to him.
He held out a hand, stopping her. Her heart squeezed.
“As long as that partnership is also a marriage. I know I have no right to ask for your hand, but I don’t think I could live without you. I love you, Caroline. I think I always have.”
“Oh, Jack, what makes you think I would have it any other way? And apparently my family must think it a good thing—or they never would have left me alone with you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Family. You will be saddled with mine, because much as I would like to wash my hands of them, I don’t think I can get rid of them.”
She slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “Your family is not so bad. I’m rather fond of Beth.”
He groaned and pulled her tight. He bent and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Will I make you happy, Caro? Your brother will kill me if I do not. He said you deserve to be happy after what you have been through. You are a rich woman. There are a lot of better born men, whole men, who would eagerly marry you.”
“John Applegate, I love you. I will always love you. And you will always make me happy. I cannot imagine life with anyone else. And it may be a seven year scandal, but I never want to sleep alone again.” She flushed as she reached up and pulled his head down to hers. “Now kiss me before I go to the mill and make plans for a warehouse cum rubber works factory.”
“Caro, I really think the mill should wait until tomorrow,” he said between kisses.
She wasn’t thinking about the mill anyway. “Or next week,” she agreed.