To Love Anew (3 page)

“I could think of better places.” John chuckled.

Henry shook his head. “You have what all men long for. You’ve the money and the good name that brings you whatever you wish. You’re refused nothing. And you’re still unhappy?”

“You’re right, of course. But I’m not unhappy. It’s just that sometimes I’d like to have the opportunity to begin again.” John thought about the hunger he’d never been able to still. He smiled. “I rather think an excursion to the Americas would be grand.”

“The Americas?” Henry shook his head. “And what would you do there?”

John thought for a moment. “I might have a hand at one of those plantations I’ve heard about and live the life of a country gentleman.”

“Don’t mind telling you I’m pleased to stay right here.” A strange expression touched Henry’s eyes. “And what of Margaret? She’ll have none of it, you know.”

“You’re right there. She’d not find pleasure in such an adventure.”

Henry tipped up his hat slightly. “She’s rather attached to this city and not doddery enough to retire to the country. You’d be hard-pressed to pry her loose from here.” He grinned. “And I dare say London would miss her.”

Lifting a brow, John said, “You mean the shopkeepers would miss her and my money.”

All of a sudden the sound of bells ringing accompanied the incessant noise that already permeated London. More bells joined the first, and they grew louder and louder. “Those confounded youngsters,” Henry lamented. “Could they not find some other form of entertainment?”

“Have you so quickly forgotten our own youth?” John asked. “It seems to me that once upon a time you were one of the best of bell ringers.” He grinned.

“I was young.”

“And so are they.”

Henry stepped around a frozen puddle. A small, white dog ran under his feet and nearly tripped him. Instantly enraged, he kicked at the animal, managing to catch it just below the ribs. The dog yelped. “Out of my way, mongrel!”

A boy ran after the canine while a group of his friends stood on the walkway and glared at Henry. “Ye didn’t need t’ hurt me dog, mister. He meant no harm.” The boy lifted the filthy animal and clutched him against his chest.

John looked at Henry, expecting an apology. Instead, the man kept walking.

“Sorry, lad,” John said. “No harm done, eh?”

The boy bobbed his head, tucked the dog under one arm, and dashed back to his friends. The small band ran up the street, and John hurried to catch up to his cousin.

“Ah, here we are,” Henry said, stopping at the door of the pub. He grinned at John, his blue eyes glinting. Pushing open the door, he disappeared inside.

John followed reluctantly. A blast of warm, stale air hit him as he stepped inside. There were only a handful of patrons scattered about. “A bit early for the crowd, I’d say.” He tipped his hat toward the barmaid. “Afternoon, Abbey. How you faring?”

The buxom woman smiled. “I’m doin’ well. You?”

“Good.”

“We need a pint,” Henry said. He sidled up to Abbey and circled her waist with his arm. “I’ve found myself an angel.” He pulled her close.

Abbey managed to wriggle free and stepped back. “An angel, indeed. I doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for here.”

Henry laughed. “I suppose that today a pint will have to do.” He gave her behind a friendly swat. “Course another time, eh?”

She glared at him. “I’ll never have time for the likes of you.”

A scowl touched Henry’s face for a moment but was quickly replaced by a smirk. “You can’t blame a man, now. You’re a tempting morsel.”

Unhappy with Henry’s antics, John crossed to a table and sat. He pulled out another chair. “Sit down, Henry.” His tone demanded obedience. He placed his hat on the table in front of him.

Henry slid into the chair. “Just havin’ a bit of fun,” he said, watching Abbey make her way back to the bar.

“Barmaid or not, she’s a decent sort and deserves our respect.”

Henry reached into his breast pocket and lifted out a snuff box. Flipping open the lid, he dipped out a fingertip full of snuff and sniffed it into one nostril. He held out the box to John.

“No thank you. It’s a disgusting habit.”

Henry shrugged and put the box back into his pocket. He watched Abbey at the bar.

John was beginning to wish that he’d taken a walk along the Thames. His eyes rested on a group of men at another table. One of them looked familiar. He’d seen him here several times before. If memory served him, the man had been mouthy and a hothead. “You know that fellow?”

“Who?” Henry glanced at the cluster of men.

“The one there,” John nodded at the group. “The younger one, wearing the blue shirt.”

“Oh yeah. Name’s Langdon. Langdon Hayes.” He repeated the name with disdain. “He’s a whelp, rich and spoiled. Comes in now and again.” His attention returned to Abbey.

Although full-bodied, she moved with the grace of a dancer as she approached the table. She set the ale in front of the men. John gave her four pence. “Quiet today.”

“It’s early, yet.” She smiled. “Ye need anything else?”

Henry’s roguish smile appeared. “I was—”

“We’re in no need of anything,” John cut in. He brushed back a loose strand of dark hair, lifted his drink, and sipped. “Good ale. Always serve the best here.”

“We do at that.” Throwing John a look of mischief and Henry one of disdain, Abbey tossed thick, long hair off her shoulder and moved away.

“I dare say, she tempts a man,” Henry said, continuing to stare at her.

“She’s not the sort for you.”

“I’m not talking marriage, man. Just one night . . .”

John’s irritation grew. Henry was too often taken with the ladies, and when in that frame of mind, he made no attempt to hide his lasciviousness. He even seemed partial to Margaret.

John studied the man. He had to admit that, although not a statuesque person, Henry was rather good-looking. He had a straight nose and strong chin and made sure his hair was neat and worn fashionably. And he was intelligent, as well as an asset to the business.

“Perhaps I’ll have another go at Abbey, eh?”

Leaning on the table, John looked squarely at his cousin. “You’re incorrigible. I doubt you’ll ever marry.”

A crooked grin lifted Henry’s lips. “You are most certainly right.” He took a long swill of ale.

John leaned back in his chair. “Marriage might be good for you. Margaret’s been a fine wife to me. You’d be lucky to have someone like her.”

Henry didn’t look at John, but kept drinking until his cup was empty. He smiled as if he had some kind of secret. Holding up his empty mug, he said, “Abbey, luv, get me another.” She quickly replaced the empty goblet.

Leaning back in his chair, Henry sipped his drink. “So if you went off on an adventure, what would become of the business?”

“It would be your responsibility.” Even as John said it, the idea unsettled him. What would his father have thought about placing Henry at the helm? John took a long drink. The discontent of his mundane life pushed him on. “Perhaps it is time I started spending some of my hard-earned money—”

“That’s the spirit.” Henry downed another mouthful of brew. “I offer my services. But you can’t be serious about the Americas?”

John shrugged. “Maybe. I want to return to France and Italy. I haven’t been for some time.” He grasped his cup between both hands and stared down into the dark ale. “I will most likely stay here. I’m afraid my course is set. Adventures are for dreamers.”

He glanced at the group of men across the room. Langdon stared at him, his expression cold.

Henry caught his look. “I’d like to drag him down from his high horse.”

“Ignore him.”

“No fighting today, Langdon,” Abbey called. “If you can’t keep your temper under control, we’ll put you out.”

Wearing a smirk, Henry cocked his hat backward, then moved his thumb down the brim and thumbed his nose at Langdon. “That’s what I think of you,” he said just loud enough for John to hear.

His eyes lit with anger and a penetrating gaze glued to Henry, Langdon stood and strode toward him.

I don’t need trouble
. John downed the last of his ale. “Time we returned to work.”

“I’m not done with my drink yet,” Henry said, keeping his eyes on the young man charging toward him.

Langdon stopped about two feet from John and Henry’s table. “So, you think I will let such insolence pass?”

Henry pushed to his feet. “If you’re looking for a fight, I’ll give you one.”

Langdon’s smile broadened. “I’ll be glad to comply.”

Henry moved toward the man.

“There’s no reason for a fight,” John said. “We were just about to leave.”

The two men squared off, ignoring John’s appeal. They circled one another. Langdon moved in, swinging at Henry with his right hand. Henry blocked the blow and managed to land one of his own. Langdon’s head snapped back, but he acted as if he’d not been hit and came back at Henry with ferocity.

Langdon stood a good four inches taller than Henry and outweighed him by a substantial amount, but the reckless young man charged him anyway.

John jumped into the melee and tried to pry Langdon off of his cousin. “Enough. Enough of this,” he said, doing his best to protect Henry and still break up the fight.

In the end, Henry landed on the floor. He was barely conscious, and blood spilled from gashes on his face and mouth.

“All right, that’s enough. You’ve beat him.” John stepped between the two men and reached for Henry. “Let’s go then, lad.”

“Leave him be,” Langdon snarled.

John turned and faced him. “You’re done,” he said with authority. “You’ve beaten him.” He turned back to his cousin. “We’ll be on our way.”

“You want to finish his fight?”

John didn’t respond, but instead helped Henry to his feet.

“I said, leave him,” Langdon bellowed.

Looking dazed, Henry leaned heavily on John. Langdon grabbed for him.

John stepped out of his way, dragging Henry with him. “Back away, I say.”

Langdon lunged at John. He grabbed Henry and shoved him aside, then threw his closed fist at John’s face. John ducked and the blow missed. Looking crazed, Langdon came at him again. This time he struck him across the side of the skull.

Pain and bright lights erupted in John’s head. The room whirled. He fought to keep his feet under him. Before he could focus, Langdon threw himself against the unwilling participant and shoved him to the floor. John landed on his back, hitting so hard the air rushed from his lungs.

Struggling for breath, John looked to Henry for assistance, but he leaned against a wall looking stupefied.
He’s of no help.
John pushed to his feet.

Langdon pulled a knife out of a sheath hanging from his belt. Holding it high, he moved toward John.

“That’s enough!” yelled Abbey. “No weapons!” She moved toward the men as if she might try to put an end to the fight, but she stopped short. There was nothing that could be done if none of the men in the pub were inclined to step in.

Langdon lunged toward John, who barely managed to move out of the blade’s reach. Again the man slashed at him, this time slicing through John’s shirtsleeve and into his upper arm.

Feeling the sting of the blade, John glanced at the wound. Blood stained the fabric of his shirt. He moved toward Langdon, knowing this fight was for his life. With everything he had, John struck the younger man hard across the chin, and then followed with another punch the thug managed to avoid.

Langdon came back at him, driving the knife toward John’s throat. Grabbing the enraged man’s arm, John fought to push him back. The sharp edge of the blade felt cold against his skin. And then sensing a weakening in his adversary, he took the advantage, thrusting the man’s arm back and down.

All John could think about was keeping the blade away from himself. He forced it toward Langdon, and then with all the energy he could summon, he plunged the knife at his attacker and drove the blade into the man’s abdomen.

Langdon let out a howl. Clasping his stomach, he dropped to the floor and lay groaning. Blood soaked through his shirt and spilled onto the wooden planking. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets. He glared at John and, in panting breaths, said, “You’ve killed me.”

“It was you who forced the fight.” John looked about. “Is there a surgeon here?”

No one answered.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Henry staggered toward John. He grabbed John’s hat and pushed it down on his head. Snatching up his own, he dragged his cousin toward the door.

“We can’t just leave him.” John pulled away and took a step toward Langdon.

Henry fastened a hand on John’s arm. “He’ll be all right.”

“We must do something.”

“Nothing can be done now.”

Henry hauled John out the door and shoved him into the street.

“Stop worrying,” Henry said. “That fellow will likely be back tomorrow downing his grog. You’d do better to think about yourself.” He patted John on the back. “You did a fine job.”

“Yeah, and a lot of help you were.”

“He caught me off guard is all. I’ll thrash him next time.”

“There’ll be no next time. This is your fault.”

“He deserved it.”

Trying to release tension, John lifted his shoulders and then dropped them again. Searing pain from his wound shot through his arm, causing him to wince.

“You better see to that,” Henry said, nodding at the bloody stain on John’s coat sleeve.

“It’s nothing.”

Henry glanced down the street. “Time I got home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Taking quick, short steps, Henry walked away.

John glanced down at his bloodied clothes. How had something as simple as having a drink turned into such misfortune? He headed toward home.

After cleaning and bandaging his arm, John had barely sat down to his dinner when a knock sounded at the door.

“Now, who can that be?” Margaret asked, dabbing at her mouth with a linen napkin.

The housemaid bustled toward the front of the house. The sound of voices came from the vestibule, but John couldn’t make out what was being said. A few moments later, the maid returned, eyes wide. “There’re two constables ’ere t’ see ye, sir. I put them in the study.”