Regency Christmas Wishes: Captain Grey's Christmas Proposal / Her Christmas Temptation / Awakening His Sleeping Beauty. Christine Merrill
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Sudden tears spilled onto her cheeks. ‘Jem, when the will was read, there was no mention of my freedom or any money. When I asked Mrs Winnings about it in private, she said solicitors could be easily unconvinced.’ She put her hands over her ears. ‘I can hear her still.’
In the silence that followed, Jem could almost hear Mrs Winnings, too. He thought of his own life in those few months since he had left Teddy the letter, hopeful she would answer, determined to return for her, despite duty and war. Time passed. He never grew any more in stature—he was tall enough—but he grew in cynicism and then a complacent sort of acceptance, where Teddy was concerned.
‘I wish I had known,’ he said. ‘If only there was a way to know instantly what goes on in others’ lives.’ It was absurd, but he had to say it.
Teddy gave him a faint smile. ‘You can’t imagine how I prayed you would find out and save me. I prayed and prayed. Nothing.’
He bowed his head in sadness at the same time Mr Hollinsworth blew into his handkerchief, muttering something about being stretched too thin, which made no sense to Jem. At least the man felt like crying in solidarity with them. How could he be busy? Nothing seemed to happen in Savannah.
‘She sold the business and moved here,’ Jem said. He put down the chicken thigh, hungry no longer.
Teddy nodded. ‘She bought a house near Ellis Square. It burned in the fire of ninety-six and we moved to a smaller house on the edge of Green Square.’
How many times have I walked by it in the past two weeks? Jem asked himself. He amended his thought. He had only walked there once, because it was a ramshackle area, unsafe. ‘I’ve been here long enough to know that as a come down,’ he said.
‘It was,’ Teddy replied. ‘She started selling off her slaves.’ He heard the sob in her throat. ‘My friends!’
He stared into her eyes, chagrined to see that deep gaze of men who had been in combat on sea and shore. He knew he had that same stare, but he had never seen it in a woman’s eyes before and it unnerved him.
‘Theodora...’
‘I am last,’ she said quietly. ‘I believe I was her hedge against ruin.’
Reticence be damned. Jem took her arm, pulled her toward him and held her while she sobbed. Between breaths that shook her, she murmured something about card games and one losing streak after another. He listened in horror and heard the dreary pattern of a desperate widow gambling at cards, trying to recoup some shred of a formerly prosperous life.
He glanced at Mr Hollinsworth, who seemed involved in sorrow of a different sort, an inward examination. Jem had not known the man a few hours before he had seen him as a jovial fellow, with ready quips. Who was this new fellow?
He held Teddy close on his lap and realised he had not been a callow fool in 1791, infatuated by a pretty face and figure. He had told his story a few times in frigate wardrooms, usually to hoots of laughter, until he had begun to think perhaps he had been a naive boy, recovering from illness, who mistook kindness for attachment of a more permanent nature.
He held her, felt her tears dampening his coat, and understood the nature of what he had felt in 1791, love so deep it shook him even now. ‘Help me, Sir,’ he whispered to that friend of his.
He glanced at Mr Hollinsworth just then to see him nod ever so slightly, his own countenance anything but trivial, or jovial, or shallow or any of those weary adjectives describing someone lightweight.
‘Aye, laddie,’ Mr Hollinsworth said.
He let Teddy’s tears run their course, pressing his handkerchief into her palm. ‘Blow your nose and dry your eyes,’ he said. ‘I will return with you to Green Square and I will buy you. I didn’t come here penniless.’
She didn’t bother with his instruction, beyond wiping her nose, her face stained with tears. ‘You’re too late. She sold me yesterday to William Tullidge. I am only hers until after Christmas. She insisted.’
Mr Hollinsworth gasped. ‘He’s one of the richest men in Savannah. Cotton, land, slaves.’ He shook his head. ‘Influence.’
‘Then I will buy you from him,’ Jem said, undeterred. ‘What did he pay?’
‘Two thousand dollars,’ she said, then looked away, unable to meet what he knew was his own horrified gaze. ‘Do you have that much money?’
He shook his head. He had more, clearly outlined in a legal letter of transfer from Carter and Brustein to any counting house in North America, but such a transfer took months. ‘Not on hand.’
‘Then I am ruined,’ Teddy said. Dignified even in her despair, she got off his lap, straightened her dress and started for the door. She turned back to give him the level gaze that told him he commanded her total attention.
‘Captain Grey, I came here for one reason only. I know there is nothing you can do to save me, at this point.’
‘But I can tr—’
She help up her hand. ‘Stop. Let me speak. I came here solely to see you. I came here to assure my eyes—no my heart—that you are well and whole now. I came here to apologise...’ She gave him a fierce look that closed his mouth again. ‘Deny that you came here for the same reasons only. I dare you.’
She had him. ‘I came here for those precise reasons,’ he admitted, because it was true.
Her hand was on the doorknob now. He knew he had lost, but he had to try once more. He knew what he had to say would brand him forever in her eyes as a fool, but he had to try. He glanced at Mr Hollinsworth for... For what, he had no idea. Support? Compassion? Empathy? And he saw an amazing sight.
Somehow, the little round man seemed to grow a foot taller. His eyes bored into Jem’s eyes, telling him without words that he had a potent ally in this odd quest that had turned into a mission so important that he felt it in his entire being.
‘Listen to him, Theodora,’ Mr Hollinsworth said, and it was no suggestion.
‘Something happened in Charleston,’ Jem began.
Maybe Teddy felt something unusual in the dusty room, same as Jem did. Whatever it was, she walked back and sat on the stool.
‘I learned who you were in Charleston, and it didn’t send me rushing to take ship back to England,’ he said. ‘I stood outside the convent and I must have prayed. Me! I never pray.’
He looked for scepticism in those lovely eyes and saw something else. Eyes still cast modestly toward her bare feet, she smiled.
He couldn’t help his sudden intake of breath. ‘Teddy, that statue,’ he said, and couldn’t think of words, he who had commanded, and fought, and blistered his frigate’s air with admonition.
Total silence filled the room. He watched dust motes dance. Theodora didn’t raise her gaze. She placed her hand near her heart. He waited, barely breathing.
‘You sailed in December of 1790,’ she said. He leaned forward to hear her soft words. ‘In September of ninety-one, a hurricane struck the city.’ Her breath came quicker. ‘The statue outside the convent literally blew away. The winds stripped all the ivy from the buildings. Such a storm.’
As she raised her eyes to his, Jem remembered to breathe. ‘My father commissioned another statue, one in stone this time. I was the model. It was the last thing he did before he died.’ She hesitated.
Now what, he thought. Now what?
‘I think you should challenge William Tullidge to a duel,’ Mr Hollinsworth said, and rubbed his hands with something close to glee.
‘He’ll shoot me dead,’ Jem said immediately. ‘I am a terrible shot.’