Heart of the Ocean (19 page)

Finally drifting off to sleep again, Eliza realized that in
running to Europe, she was doing what Helena had tried to do—and lost her life
over—all those years ago.

Jon read the letter from Eliza for the umpteenth time. Her
words chilled him. He couldn’t explain it, but he believed her—his mother had
been somehow communicating with the girl.

It was late in the morning when he had first opened his
correspondence and read the letter. At first he was angry at the presumption Eliza
had taken, assuming intimate details about his mother. What right had she?

He had gone to her home immediately, only to find that she
had departed for Europe. The ship was still in the harbor when he’d leapt from
the carriage and ran up the loading ramp. “No ticket, no entrance,” he was
told. He turned away, deflated, not knowing what he was going to say to her,
but also not ready to see the last link to his mother disappear.

It was with dejection that he headed home and spent the next
several hours in seclusion, reading and rereading the letter Eliza wrote about
her dreams.

When Thomas Beesley arrived at four, Jon had nearly
forgotten they had an appointment. As the man was led into the library by Mr.
Richards, Jon stood and cordially greeted Thomas. “You’ve gone over my notes on
the contract, I presume?”

“Yes,” Thomas said, settling into the opposite chair. “But I
have another concern I’d like to discuss with you. It has to do with Mr.
Robinson’s daughter. I’ve heard through reliable sources that she is planning
to sue me for slander,” Thomas said.

Jon almost choked. He couldn’t imagine Eliza suing this man.
“On what basis?”

“That I fed malicious gossip to the newspapers.”

Jon stared at the heavy jowls on Thomas’s face. “Are the
allegations true?”

Thomas chuckled. “Spoken like a true lawyer. Perhaps there’s
an inkling of truth to them, but there’s no evidence or witnesses.”

Fed up with the man, Jon decided to get straight to the
point. “I can no longer represent you.”

Thomas's face reddened. “Why in the hell not?”

Jon pushed a piece of paper across his desk. “Here are two
references you might look up.”

Thomas ignored the paper.

“I cannot represent a case in which I do not believe.”

“You’ve grown soft,” Thomas spat out.

“I know both sides of the case, yes, and perhaps I am biased
because of recent events.”

Thomas clenched his hands together. “I saw you follow her.”

Jon’s heart jolted. “You what?”

“At the masquerade ball. You followed Eliza out.”

Jon leaned forward. “What’s your point?”

“That you are interested in the girl—”

Jon stood and pointed his finger at Thomas. “Don’t you dare
say what I think you—”

“You’re a philandering scoundrel who’s not good enough for Apryl!”
He stood and faced Jon, his face scarlet. “I’ll see that she never marries
you.” He grabbed his hat from the end table and tugged it onto his head.
Seconds later, he was across the room, making his exit.

It was several seconds before Jon realized what had
transpired. He sank heavily into his chair and pressed his palms against his
temples, squeezing his eyes shut. A voice inside his head kept saying
Thomas
is right
, but he couldn’t allow the thought to progress any further.

A sickening feeling rose inside him, and the grisly events
began to play before his eyes: Thomas arriving at Apryl’s with lavish gifts,
convincing her that her fiancé was in love with another woman, spreading gossip
throughout the city until all chance of him running for public office was
ruined.

It was well into the night before Jon climbed the stairs to
his bedroom. And even then, lying in bed, he couldn’t sleep. He knew that
Thomas had nothing to base his implications on, but the words had struck Jon
dead center. As he finally fell asleep, a single question haunted his mind.

How could he marry one woman when he was in love with
another?

***

When the dull gray morning light woke him, Jon rose and
dressed. Looking in the mirror, he saw a gaunt face staring back at him. He’d
lost weight, and his features had taken on a gray tinge. Something Ruth had
said once to him came back to his mind.
If you really want something, you’ll
find a way to get it.
She had encouraged him to leave Maybrook and take the
money from his father for college. Education was everything, she had told him.

The dark eyes reflected in the mirror were haunted, confused
and lonely. It was time to make up his mind—to leave his parents in the past
and look to the future. He needed to begin the steps to achieve his goals.
Marrying Apryl would introduce him to the proper circle of society to jump into
the political confidences. Letting Eliza crowd his thoughts was a dangerous
deterrent. She was in Europe, and according to his newest resolve, she may as
well no longer exist.

Yet less than an hour later, Jon found himself drafting a
letter to Mr. Robinson, father of the non-existent Eliza. He explained that he
was no longer representing the opposing party and wished the man the best of
luck. Reading over the letter, Jon shook his head at his own foolishness. Then
he shredded the page and dropped it into the fire. All ties needed to be broken
with the Robinsons—even ones that might provide some recompense.

That same morning, Jon received a note from Mr. Doughty. His
father’s estate was now in order, and he was required to sign the paperwork.
Jon breathed a sigh of relief. It was a sign. Time to move forward with the
wedding plans and begin his life as a gentleman and politician.

With anticipating steps, he made his way to the solicitor’s
office. Entering, he brushed past the oily-haired clerk and bounded up the
stairs two at a time.

Mr. Doughty raised his head in surprise as Jon entered.
“Good morning, Mr. Porter. I see you received my note.”

“Indeed.” Jon sat in the nearest chair and looked about the
office with pleasure. It was now organized, removed of excess books.

Mr. Doughty slid a folder across his desk. “I trust you’ll
find everything in order.”

Grabbing the folder, Jon leafed through the pages. Then he
returned to the first and swallowed hard.

“You’re a wealthy man,” Mr. Doughty said softly.

Jon looked at the lawyer, a slow smile spread across his
face. “It’s more than I expected . . . I thought there would be debt to pay, my
half-sister’s family to support—”

“The number you see is the amount after all business
obligations have been settled.”

Jon blinked and refocused on the page before him. He was a
millionaire many times over.

“There are three places for you to sign,” Mr. Doughty said,
handing over a pen.

“What happens next?” Jon took the pen.

“In two to three months the money will be funded to your
bank. After the bank receives the funds and these documents, estate taxes will
be paid, the property consolidated. And then the holdings will be transferred
to your name. From there it’s up to you. You may choose to visit England or
decide to sell the property right away, or a portion of it.” At the surprised
look he received from Jon, he chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll fall in love
with the place and decide to become a citizen.”

“I doubt that, sir,” Jon said with a smile. He leafed through
the pages again, and with an unwavering hand, he signed his name three times.
Returning to the first page, he stared at the numbers again until they went out
of focus. He closed the folder and passed it back to Mr. Doughty.

The solicitor came around the desk and extended his hand. “Congratulations,
Mr. Porter. I hope we can do business again in the future.”

In a sudden movement, Jon embraced the man and clapped him
on the back. “Thank you,” he said in a thick voice. His future was about to
change.

The walk back to his home was not quick and light as it had
been on the way over. Now it was the slow, deliberate steps of a man who had
the weight of power and fortune upon his shoulders, and many questions about
the future.

***

In bed that night, Jon lay awake for a long time thinking
about whether or not he should make a trip to England. By viewing his newly
acquired property, he’d be able to make responsible decisions about them.
Explaining the matter to Apryl might prove quite difficult. Undoubtedly she already
knew from her father that Jon’s holdings were supposedly insignificant. In the
quiet darkness, he decided to invite her to travel with him. It would be good
for their relationship to get out from under the scrutiny of her parents and
the ever-present Thomas Beesley. She could bring one of her aunts or a friend
as a chaperone.

Then in England, after showing her the estate, he’d reveal
the true amount of his inheritance. It would be a surprise she’d never forget.

The following evening, Jon arrived at the Maughan household
as a guest for yet another dinner. He was relieved, but not surprised, to
discover that Mr. Beesley and his sister would not be in attendance. After
dinner, Jon had a chance to speak to Mr. Maughan in the library about the
possibility of taking Apryl to England.

“Her mother would never allow her to accompany you
un-chaperoned,” Mr. Maughan said, lighting a cigar for Jon.

Jon accepted it. “Of course Apryl will bring along one of
her aunts or a friend. I can assure you, sir, that she will be well taken care
of.”

Mr. Maughan nodded. “I trust you, Jon. But Apryl can be
overcome with flights of fancy from time to time.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked.

Hesitating, Mr. Maughan finally said, “I probably shouldn’t
mention this, but when you were in Massachusetts, both Mrs. Maughan and I grew
quite concerned about her.” He rushed on. “Nothing to worry about now, though.
She’s seemed to come back to herself since your return.”

“Did it have anything to do with Thomas Beesley?” Jon asked.

Mr. Maughan’s face remained impassive. “Looking back, it all
seems quite ridiculous to have ever worried, doesn’t it?”

“Worried about what exactly?”

“Oh, just that Apryl can have flights of fancy.”

Jon took another puff on his cigar. Were her flights of
fancy over with now?

It was another hour before the guests went home, and Jon had
a secluded moment with Apryl. He found her in the drawing room, gazing absently
at a painting. “Tired, my dear?”

She looked at him, her eyes unusually dull. “Yes. Has
everyone left?”

“They have.” Jon sat beside her. “My inheritance has been
settled.”

Apryl’s eyes shifted to him curiously.

“I need to travel to England on related business.”

Her attention went back to the painting.

Jon grasped her hand. “I want you to come with me. We’ll get
away from all this for a while. It will be the two of us . . . except for a
chaperone.”

Apryl offered a small smile, yet her eyes didn’t hold
promise. “My mother would never allow it.”

Chuckling, Jon said, “That’s what your father said.”

“You already asked him?”  She turned her head to really look
at him.

“Of course. Apryl, let’s get married right away, and we’ll
go to England on our honeymoon.” He stopped speaking when he saw her eyes fill
with tears.

“You don’t understand, Jon. It’s not about a marriage certificate
that I want. It’s the engagement dinner and the perfect wedding dress and all
that accompanies it.”

Jon leaned back and sighed. “Is that what you want, or what
your mother wants?”

“I want everything I’ve dreamed of since I was a young girl,”
she said, her voice trembling. “I want the white dress with the long train and
the flower girls walking before me. I want my father to give me away, and for
you to be standing at the end of the aisle, dressed in a fine black suit. I
want thousands of flowers and a cake no one will ever forget—” Her words were
choked off by her sobs.

Jon put his arm around her shoulders and brought her cheek
to his. “You shall have all of that and more. I promise.”

***

The next thirteen days were the most peaceful Eliza could remember
having in a long time, perhaps as far back as before meeting Thomas Beesley.

She didn’t dream, she didn’t hear voices, she didn’t have
any conversations with eligible men. Jon was never far from her mind, but she
decided that that would soon change too. She and Gina spent a lot of time on
deck, in the fresh air, talking about nothing. Which was divine.        

When the ship docked outside of the Bordeaux harbor, Eliza
and Gina were on the deck, watching the approach anxiously. Once ashore, they
found themselves a little unsteady on their legs, and they clung together,
laughing.

Mr. Graydon hired a carriage to take them to a hotel. Young
boys ran after them, shouting things in French.

“I wonder what they’re saying,” Gina said.

“They want to see the Americans,” Eliza said, staring out
the window.

“You understand them?” Gina asked.

Eliza nodded. “Doesn’t everyone know a little French?”

“She was never proficient in the languages,” Mrs. Graydon
said.

Gina ignored her mother’s comment and pointed at a passing
sign. “What does that say?”

Eliza squinted into the growing darkness. “
La Petite
Café,”
she read.

“What does it mean?”

“The Little Café,” Eliza said with a laugh. “They probably
have refreshments there.” She hoped the Graydons would take the hint.

“Oh, how quaint,” Mrs. Graydon said, peering out her window.
“But we’ll be at the hotel soon enough. Then we’ll have tea.”

Eliza settled back into her seat for the journey. There
would be plenty of time tomorrow to explore the area. For now, she was
exhausted and looked forward to sleeping in a bed that didn’t sway.

Their hotel was small but elegant. Eliza marveled at all of
the artwork on the walls. The employees were cordial but reluctant to speak
English. Eliza tried her best to use French and received warm smiles in return.