Heart of the Ocean (16 page)

Jon remained silent.

After a few moments of companionable smoking, Mr. Maughan
asked, “Out of curiosity, what would you say the estate was worth?”

Trying to keep his face somber, Jon casually shrugged. He’d
decided to downplay the amount. The more time Apryl spent with Thomas Beesley,
the less secure he became that she truly cared for him, and not his potential
of earnings. “Perhaps only fifty thousand.”

Mr. Maughan quickly recovered his shock at the small amount.
“That will keep you comfortable.”

Hiding a smile, Jon nodded in agreement. He knew the amount was
not as much as the Maughans would have hoped for their daughter. But more
importantly, what would Apryl think? The Maughans would find out soon enough
that their future son-in-law was really to be a millionaire. Until then, Jon
had business to take care of with Thomas Beesley, and that included discovering
what Apryl’s true intentions were toward the man.

Mr. Maughan checked his pocket watch. “It’s getting late.
I’m sure my wife is ready to retire.”

Jon followed him out of the library. They found the women visiting
in the drawing room.

“Ready dear?” Mr. Maughan asked.

Mrs. Maughan rose and took his arm. They left Jon and Apryl
alone and went up the stairs.

Apryl smiled at Jon when her parents left. “I guess I’m
rather tired too.”

Jon helped her stand. Without letting go of her hand, he
said, “Let’s elope.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Elope? You must be mad.”

Perhaps he was mad. But he was also wondering if he wanted
to spend the rest of his life married to this woman—did she really care about
him? The way that he had felt that Eliza cared about him last night? “You’re
probably right,” he said, “but wouldn’t it be exciting?” Wasn’t
exciting
what Apryl wanted?

She flushed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. My mother
would be furious if I denied her the right to plan a wedding.”

“But what if it made
me
happy?”

“Really, Jon. Why are you so interested in hurrying up
things? I couldn’t do that to my family.”

Jon released Apryl’s hand, both relieved and disappointed. Perhaps
she wasn’t as attached to him as she claimed to be. Was this what he wanted? A
wife who wasn’t in love with him?

“Very well,” he said.

“Oh, don’t be angry. It’s because I’m their only child.”

“I’m not angry,” he said, trying to hide his annoyance with
himself. He wasn’t thinking straight. Kissing Eliza, then asking Apryl to
elope—what had he been thinking? “Just impatient . . . Is an elaborate wedding
necessary?”

“Of course—it’s every girl’s dream.” She kissed his cheek.
“Now be a good boy and let me get my beauty rest.”

Jon studied her face, noting her too cheerful smile. He
wanted to push one more time. “Think about it, Apryl.”

She didn’t answer for a moment. The only sound between them
was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. A slight frown crept to
her brow. “Are you feeling well?”

“Nothing that will not soon pass.” She was right. He wasn’t
feeling well—at least not in his heart. He showed himself out the door.

***

The following morning he sent a note to Mr. Thomas Beesley, and
that afternoon, they were seated across from each other in Jon’s library.

Thomas smiled. “So you’ve come to your senses.”

“If that’s how you choose to look at it.” Jon’s eyes
narrowed. “Let’s begin. I want to know what legal action you have in mind.”

“I want to terminate my partnership with Mr. Robinson. I
have wanted to do so for some time, since his, er—”

“Since his daughter turned you down?” Jon finished.

Thomas dabbed his nose with a handkerchief. “It’s difficult
to work with someone on a daily basis when you don’t respect them.”

“Surely you wouldn’t let a personal matter get in the way of
honest business?” Jon countered.

Thomas grimaced. “I’ve lost important clients over the
affair, and fear I’ll lose even more. With his daughter back in New York, flaunting
her inheritance and making people pity her for the attack that was made on
her—”

“She was nearly killed, and you think she’s seeking pity? You
must really hate Eliza.”

At the mention of her name, Thomas jerked his head up. “I
don’t hate Miss Robinson,” he said evenly. “I hate the position she put me in.
She flirted incessantly and made me believe she was very fond of me. There was
never a dance or party in which she wasn’t continually by my side.”

Jon had a hard time imagining Eliza attaching herself to
this irritating man. What did Thomas think about Apryl’s behavior? “Don’t you
think it possible to put the incident behind you?

 “I’ve tried. But the gossip columns continue, and my
earnings are down this month. I can’t afford the lost revenue.”

“Have you tried speaking with Mr. Robinson about your
concerns?”

Thomas chuckled. “According to our contract, we can’t
dissolve the partnership unless one of us participates in illegal action or
can’t hold up his end of the agreement.”

“And Mr. Robinson has not violated any of the agreements?”
Jon clarified.

“Not yet.” Thomas shifted in his seat, his face reddening.
“Are you going to help me or not?”

“That depends on what sort of help you need. So far I
haven’t seen any valid reason to end your partnership with Mr. Robinson, unless
you are basing it on obstinate pride.”

Thomas handed over a stack of papers, his hands trembling.
“Read through the contract for any loopholes.” He stood with effort. “If you
can find one, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jon took the papers as Thomas stormed out of the room.

Each day, Eliza felt a little stronger, but each night Gus
appeared again and again in her dreams. Helena’s voice had fallen silent, but
the nightmares only grew more detailed and frightening. Sometimes Gus chased
her with a knife. Others, he cornered her in the lighthouse. And always, he
called her Helena. Eliza’s only comfort was to know that he was imprisoned.

Soon she took the medicine ordered by the doctor to help her
sleep. It wasn’t that she
couldn’t
sleep, but she was afraid to dream.
With the medicine, she woke feeling groggy, but at least not remembering the
night.

But that proved equally frustrating. Too bad she couldn’t
take medicine to forget during the days. As it was, they were filled with thinking
about Jon. His fiancée was certainly possessive enough, practically clinging to
him when she’d met them, and didn’t seem to be a woman to shy away from
competition. But as the days went by, remembering Jon’s kiss grew more
difficult, and she was left with only the tortured events that followed it—Jon
asking for forgiveness. Jon leaving. Jon’s startled expression when they ran
into each other at the theater.

And then one day, a letter came from him.

She took it to her room to read in private. The words were
not what she had hoped for.

Dear Eliza,

I sincerely apologize for the other week when I burst
into your home and laid my problems on your shoulders. I’ve thought about my
mother’s words and realize I can’t change the past. Nor can I change what happened
between us. But I can apologize and hope that I did not embarrass you or hurt
your feelings. I promise to be a complete gentleman in the future. I’m happily
engaged and would not want something trivial to come between my fiancée and me.
I trust you to be discreet.

Eliza stared at the space where Jon should have included his
signature, but it was blank. He hadn’t even signed his apology. Maybe he feared
someone would read it and guess what had happened. Her eyes burned as tears
began to fall. Eliza let them drip onto the letter, blurring the inked words.
He
had kissed her. It was as if he was warning her not to create a scene and
damage his reputation as a faithful fiancé.

At that moment, Eliza saw a little bit of Jon’s father in
the son.
What did I expect? He’s engaged, and I knew he was engaged.

She closed her eyes for a moment, willing rational thoughts to
replace the wild ones in her mind. Then she felt composed enough to pen a
reply.

Dear Sir,

I’m more than happy to oblige you in your request. As it
happens, it never occurred to me to make good on the affection you bestowed. I
viewed you as a distraught man, unsure of his feelings for anyone, including
his mother and his fiancée, let alone myself. Now that you have everything
straightened out in your life and know what your dreams are, I’ll be the first
to offer congratulations and wish you all the best.

It is not often that a woman is saved more than once by
the same man. Perhaps it is your nature to attract damsels in distress. And
like your father, you will always take the socially accepted path. Whatever the
case, you’ll make a fine husband for Apryl, and I wish both of you many happy
years together.

Best wishes,

A damsel no longer in distress

***

Eliza sorted through her closet. The masquerade ball was in
a few days, and she didn’t have anything to wear. She’d promised her new friend
Gina that she’d attend the ball with her. Eliza crossed to the dressing table
and looked into the mirror. The bruises on her neck were barely visible; only
yellow-tinged marks remained.

“Eliza,” her mother called from outside the bedroom door. “Gina
is here.”

“Send her in,” Eliza said.

Gina entered the room and embraced her. They’d become fast
friends in only a couple of weeks, although opposites in almost every way. Gina
was tall with fiery red hair and an infectious laugh. What she lacked in
beauty, she made up for in energy and enthusiasm.

“Have you talked to your parents yet about coming to France
with my family?” Gina asked.

Eliza smiled. With Gina, everything seemed so simple. But
hope had grown inside Eliza—hope that if she left the States, the nightmares
would stop, and Helena’s voice would be left far behind. “I will mention the
trip when they stop treating me like a glass vase.”

“Don’t stall too long; I’m dying for you to come.” Gina
grinned. “I’m so glad you’ll be coming to the masquerade ball with me. I
couldn’t bear it if I had to stand by my parents the entire time. Or, heaven
forbid, my grandmother.”

Eliza laughed. “I’ll probably be as tiresome.”

Concern crossed Gina’s sunny face. “Are you feeling up to the
ball?”

“I suppose so.” Eliza unconsciously touched her neck. “It will
give me something else to think about.” Going to the masquerade ball was so
normal, so unlike what her days had become—hours when she was afraid to sleep,
afraid to dream.

All smiles again, Gina said, “Show me what you’re going to
wear.”

Eliza led her to the closet and pulled out a dress from the
far corner. It was plain and simple, dark gray.

Gina wrinkled her nose. “You can’t be serious.”

“It was my aunt’s—she was Puritan.”

“You can’t go as a Puritan!” Gina said, looking horrified.
“The dress is dreadful and boring. No one will dare ask you to dance for fear
of receiving a lashing at the whipping post.”

Eliza pulled out another article from the closet—a white
bonnet. “Don’t you think this will complete the outfit perfectly?”

Gina braced herself against the doorframe. “If this is a
trick—”

“Don’t worry. Even
I
am not that brave. I want to
blend in, not stand out.”

Gina breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally, you’ve regained
your good sense.” After Eliza replaced the dress and bonnet, Gina asked, “What
are
you going to wear?”

“Mother says it’s too late to have something made, so I
guess I’ll have to make do with what’s in my closet.”

Gina took a step back and surveyed her friend. “Hmmm,” she
said. “It will have to be something grand so all of the eligible bachelors will
fight over you.”

“I wouldn’t want to take the attention away from your Queen
Elizabeth costume,” Eliza said.

Gina swept her hair back and twisted it into a bun. “Should
I wear my hair like this?”

“Yes, but add a row of curls at the top.”

Gina turned to the mirror, experimenting with several twists.

Eliza sat on the bed and watched her tall, graceful friend. Gina
would make the perfect Queen Elizabeth. “Perhaps I’ll wax my hairline like all
the royal greats and be your half-sister, Queen Mary.”

Gina twirled around and clapped her hands together. “That
would be perfect. If you wear a scarlet dress, it will set off your complexion.”

But Eliza waved her off. “Too elaborate for last minute.”

Gina sat next to Eliza and grabbed her hands. “I have a
dress you could wear, and we can make a crown for you out of beads.”

“You’re six inches taller than I am. It will be far too long
for me.”

“Emma will take in the hem.” She tugged on Eliza’s arm.
“Come on, it will be fun.”

Eliza hesitated. Perhaps dressing as Queen Mary would work.
There were sure to be others dressed as royalty, so she would blend in. “All
right. I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“Emma can redo the sleeves and lower the neckline . . .” Gina’s
face was radiant as she spoke.

Eliza covered her chest with her hands. “I don’t think we
need to be that authentic.”

“If we don’t, no one will even know who you are.”

“But my parents—”   

“Aren’t going, and you can get dressed at my house,” Gina
said.

“What will
your
parents think?” Eliza asked.

“They’ll realize you’re a mature young woman. Besides, they
will be tipsy before the first hour is gone and won’t notice anyway.” She burst
into laughter. “You know that
Elizabeth
was the ‘virgin queen,’ not
Mary, so you can be a little more daring.”

The next few days were busy as Eliza and Gina spent time
preparing their costumes. Gina’s costume was nearly finished; they only had to
add a lace ruff. Eliza’s costume took the remainder of the time to create.
After Emma’s alterations, they began to embroider and sew on glittering beads. Gina
insisted on attaching only a partial ruff, so Eliza’s bosom wouldn’t be
completely hidden. Eliza discovered that she was enjoying the process and became
absorbed in the plans for the ball.

Later that night, well after the twelve o’clock hour, she
stole into the kitchen for a cup of warm milk. She was surprised to hear voices
coming from the library. Tiptoeing to the closed door, she leaned forward and
listened. Her father was discussing business with another man. Then she shrank
back in horror as she recognized the high nasal pitch of Thomas Beesley.

“It’s a breach of contract,” her father said.

“My lawyer found that this clause applies to our situation,”
Thomas answered.

A pause, then her father said, “‘An extraneous circumstance
due to lack of cooperation?’”

Eliza held her breath.
Was this about Thomas asking her
to marry him?

Her father’s voice came again. “You can’t mean to apply this
to what happened between you and my daughter? I know things have been strained
lately, but I hoped that we could put it behind us—especially with all the
details to work out on the new factory.”

Thomas uttered a low chuckle. “You understand, Mr. Robinson,
that I don’t intend to open a new factory with you. And I mean to have my way.”

She had to strain to hear her father’s reply. “I thought we
were men who could keep business separate from personal matters.”

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Mr. Robinson. It matters
what our clients think—the ones canceling their orders and taking their
business elsewhere.”

“It’s been a bad couple of months, but surely business will
pick up again.”

“I can’t afford to wait for that,” Thomas said. “Mr. Porter
will draw up an agreement this week, and I’ll have it sent over.”

Eliza gasped at the mention of Mr. Porter—
Jon
?     

“I know the relationship between your family and Mr.
Porter,” Thomas said. “I thought it might make my job a little easier, as
Porter apparently knows the character of your daughter.”

Her father’s next comment was sharp with anger. “How dare
you insinuate that my daughter’s character is questionable? She’s merely too
young to be serious about a marriage proposal from any man, including you.”

Thomas’s voice matched the anger. “I know plenty of young
women her age who would be more than happy to accept such an offer.”

Tension seeped through the doors and wrapped its grip around
her.

“Some women are ready for matrimony sooner than others,” her
father said in a low voice. “But this is not the case with Eliza, and no one
should force her to marry. I have never been insulted such as this in all my
life.”

“Now you know how I feel,” Thomas replied bitterly.

Eliza heard the scrape of a chair; Thomas was preparing to
leave. She fled down the hallway and hid behind the curved arch of the
staircase. A moment later the library doors flew open, and Thomas strode
through the opening. Eliza caught a glimpse of his scarlet face as he stormed
through the front door.

She remained crouched for a long time behind the stairway,
trembling. Even after her father had ascended the stairs to retire for the
night, Eliza couldn’t bring herself to leave her hiding place. A deep hole had
formed in her soul.

Jonathan Porter had betrayed her family.