With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold
Chapter 20
It was rather shocking how much Jack now smiled when he was alone. It had started shortly after he had married Louisa, and the longer he knew her, the more often he thought of her when they were apart. Thinking of her was what caused the frequent smiles, and they were nearly impossible to remove from his face, even as he rode his horse into town the next day.
He was celebrating a small victory. Each night when he went to bed, he listened to Louisa down the hall as she walked into her room. She had formed a habit of locking her door each night, the screeching metal reminding him of her apparent fear of him. But the night before, after she had drawn that horrendous picture of him, she had gone to bed, bidding him a cheerful, “Goodnight,” and closing the door.
But she hadn’t locked it.
He smiled at the achievement, patting his horse on the neck. “We are making progress, aren’t we?”
He had been meeting with his man of business in town, working through the challenges that came with the task of importing a pineapple from South America. The price was rather absurd, but so was Louisa’s request. Jack couldn’t help but try, especially as he imagined her surprise if the pineapple actually arrived in one piece.
He dismounted near the man’s office, tying his horse to a post before starting toward the doors.
“Warwick, is that you?”
Jack stopped, his fists tightening at his sides. His limbs went cold as he turned toward the familiar voice.
Lord Bridport stood in all his finery, walking stick in hand, top hat perched far too high on his head. Beside him, Mr. Evan Whitby stood nearby, looking every bit as smug as Jack had last seen him. Today, however, his eyes appeared darker, rimmed with darkness that was directed straight at Jack. Only when his mouth spread into a sneer did Jack fully understand why.
Two of his teeth were missing.
Jack swallowed, grimacing. Had that been his doing?
Lord Bridport stared at Jack for a long moment, as if unsure whether he should greet him in a friendly manner as he once had, or take to ignoring him. Jack’s teeth gritted when he recalled the way his friend had tossed him out of his house in favor of the nodcock who stood beside him now, sneering and flexing his hands at his sides. Jack was itching to plant another facer on the man as well.
“Have you already forgotten what I look like?” Jack asked Bridport, raising his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you remembered my name.”
“You do look a little different with the…” Whitby gestured at his nose.
Jack rolled his shoulders back, keeping his arms loose, though his muscles tightened with each word from the pair of them. “I thought people were meant to be finished losing teeth by the time they reached your age.” Jack tipped his head to one side.
As if sensing the tension of the conversation, people on the streets stopped to watch, pausing their errands as they whispered from the street corners, eyes fixed on Jack and his company.
He took a deep breath to calm the irritation that raged in his chest. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Turning on his heel, he walked toward the office door.
“Does your wife know she married a murderer? Or have you murdered her already too?” Whitby’s voice grated on him, digging underneath his skin just as it had that night at the gambling party.
Jack’s jaw tightened. He breathed deeply through his nose, lifting his fingers from the door handle. Lord Bridport stood in silence, watching Evan Whitby as he gathered a crowd with his words about murder. How had Jack once called that man his friend? Because Bridport wished to maintain Whitby’s good favor, he stood by and watched without interfering. The spectators around the streets had become even more focused on the scene, some watching with concern, others with fascination. What gossip could they take home that day? Whose misfortune could provide them with entertainment? It was all a game to them.
“I didn’t know my marriage was common knowledge,” Jack said.
“Oh, yes, and so is the fact that you ruined her before taking her to the marriage noose. Was that the only way you could convince a woman to marry you?”
Jack tried to keep his fists at his sides, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Whitby’s teeth were uneven. Perhaps Jack could straighten them for him.
He wouldn’t even try to deny the accusations Whitby threw at him. It wasn’t worth his time. Hot anger pulsed through his veins. If the man pushed him hard enough he might burst. “I think your own success in finding a wife should be of greater concern to you, especially with the state of your missing teeth.”
Whitby’s broad shoulders raised as his own hands curled into fists. Jack did not want to fight him. Not here. He backed toward the door. Whitby laughed, kicking the dirt beneath his feet. Lord Bridport motioned for Whitby to walk away as well, but he wasn’t finished. “You never answered my question,” he called. “Does she know you’re a murderer?” The volume of his voice grew, as if he wanted everyone in town to hear it. “If she did, I suspect she would rather annul the marriage and live a life of ruin than spend another second as your wife.” He laughed, spitting on the dirt as his face grew redder, his anger seeming to catch up to him.
It took every drop of willpower at his disposal, but Jack managed to walk away rather than knock another tooth or two from Evan Whitby’s head. He stepped through the door of the office, leaning against the door frame as he caught his breath. Whitby’s first attack on him at the gambling party hadn’t been personal. But now that Jack had disfigured his face, he seemed to have revenge on his mind.
His heart pounded as Whitby’s words clattered through his mind over and over again. Does your wife know she married a murderer? His jaw tightened. Was that what he was? He knew in his heart that he had not fired the gun intentionally. But if everyone else doubted him, how could he defend himself? His guilt over his uncle’s death had already consumed him, even knowing that his gun fired against his knowledge. Would Louisa believe them too? His heart broke at the thought of her regretting her choice to marry him. And it broke even more at the thought of her choosing a life of ruin over him. He was ashamed every day of his life, and he would never wish the same feeling upon Louisa.
A lump formed in his throat, but he pushed it away. The emptiness in his chest spread, hollowing out all the hope and merriment he had felt on his ride there. Although he had an appointment with his man of business, he walked outside instead, pushing past the crowd and finding his horse. He rode blindly, rage and frustration and guilt building in his chest until he could hardly breathe. He needed to bury it somehow.
The sun had already set by the time Louisa saw Jack’s horse in the distance. She could barely decipher his form in the dim light. The moon had already risen, claiming its place in the sky above where he rode toward the house.
She smiled as she watched him from the window, turning toward the mirror in her bedchamber. Her hair was a complete mess, but she did not have time to call the maid to fix it for her. She fiddled with a few curls, making them more presentable before making her way toward the staircase. She had been sitting in her room worrying over why Jack hadn’t returned home yet. He had missed dinner, and so she had eaten alone. She had taken the opportunity to practice the pianoforte after the meal, but her mind had been wandering. She had even debated walking into town to look for him. It was too much to hope that the reason for his delay was a visit to his family, so she hadn’t allowed herself to consider that option.
Then what had delayed him?
She made her way quietly to the drawing room, sitting near the bookcase and choosing the first book she saw, opening it on her lap. She couldn’t have him thinking she had been waiting for him to return home all evening. The only sounds she heard were the ticking of the long case clock in the corner and the tapping of her own foot on the floor. If he came inside now, he wouldn’t know where to find her. She was being too quiet.
Her gaze caught on the pianoforte. Yes, that was a much better plan.
Sweeping her skirts underneath her, she hurried to the bench and began playing the liveliest tune of her repertoire, pressing a little harder than usual on the keys. She didn’t hear the front door open, nor did she hear the drawing room door open. Her heart thudded when she saw Jack sit down on the sofa from the corner of her eye.
She stopped playing, rotating on the bench until she faced him. The smile fell from her cheeks when she noticed his slumped posture. His elbows were leaned over on his knees, his hands buried in his hair.
“Jack?” Louisa rose hesitantly. “Are you all right?”
He moved his head, throwing her a lazy glance. His face was dull, hardly any expression showing in his features. When he sat up straighter, the movement was slow and unsteady.
She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m as well as I’m able,” he muttered, chuckling under his breath. “Nearly fell off my horse.”
Her teeth gritted, and the concern she had felt moments before vanished. “You have been drinking, haven’t you?” She glared at him.
He hardly seemed aware of her question, stretching out his legs in front of him as he stared at her. “Whitby was right.” The laughter in his voice faded, his brows drawing together as he closed his eyes. “You think I’m a murderer.”
Louisa’s stomach twisted. What on earth was he talking about? She was no longer afraid of him in his drunk state, but simply angry with him. Rage boiled in her chest at his disregard for her request that he not drink to excess. She knew habits such as this were not easy to break, but he had done well for more than a week. He had seemed so determined to change. She searched within herself for a shred of pity, but all she could find was more disappointment.
“You are afraid of me, are you not?” he asked, opening his eyes. “You have already come to regret marrying me.” His voice was slow and quiet, as if piecing the words together in his brain came with a delay. He scrunched his brow. “You do not care for me like I care for you. I knew he was right.”
Louisa’s heart hammered. Had he just confessed that he cared for her? Any words he spoke in his current state couldn’t be taken seriously, yet her heart still skipped. He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her. He had not been this incoherently drunk the day of their wedding. What had driven him to drink while he was in town? Who was this man he was speaking about?
“I should have knocked out what remained of his teeth.”
Louisa froze, eyes rounding as she sat down on the chair opposite him. “You knocked out a man’s teeth?”
“And then he broke my nose.” Jack started laughing again, his eyes opening to slits as his gaze swept over her. He seemed to be surprised that she was no longer glaring at him. It wouldn’t do to scold him while he was drunk…he wouldn’t remember it the next day. She would save her admonishing for when he was fully aware.
She sat back, crossing her arms. So it seemed he had met that same man in town again that day. Either that, or he was reminiscing on the day their fight had first occurred. But the other things he had said…about Louisa being afraid of him, or wondering if he was a murderer…none of it made sense.
“Well, are you a murderer?” Louisa asked in a hesitant voice. Her heart picked up speed when Jack stopped laughing. He was silent for a long moment, staring at her with a weighted sadness in his gaze.
“No.” He shook his head with a resigned sigh. “But I knew you would not believe me.”
Louisa frowned, watching with deep concern as he closed his eyes again. Moisture gathered at the outer corners of his eyes. She had never seen such a vulnerable side of him, and she was certain he wouldn’t allow her to see it if he were aware of what he was doing. His emotions played out of his face, unshielded by confident smiles and teasing words. “You are too good for me,” he muttered. “Too beautiful and kind and innocent.”
Her legs stiffened, the air catching in her lungs.
“You are more than I could ever deserve,” he mumbled. “You shouldn’t have married me.” His voice cracked, a furrow marking his brow. “You should’ve married someone like Mr. Northcott, even—even if he says he won’t marry, I’m certain he’d marry you if you asked. Any man would be a fool not to love you and want you. Even Whitby wants you, that must be why he tries to fight me. He’s envious.” A pained smile crossed Jack’s lips. Shortly after, a snore escaped him, and the furrows cleared on his forehead.
Louisa stared, unblinking. She nearly started laughing, but the sound was stuck in her chest. Warmth flooded her limbs as she watched him sleep. Even drunk as a wheelbarrow, she couldn’t look away. She swallowed, digging for the anger she had felt when he had first walked into the room. It was gone, dried up in a desert of compassion. That was all she could manage to feel as she watched him sleep. Do not take his words seriously, she demanded to her heart. He wouldn’t remember them the next day, and neither should she.
After taking a quick walk to the first floor, she found a blanket, bringing it down to the drawing room and draping it over him. She paused as she stood above him, listening to that whistling snore that came repeatedly from his nose. What a ridiculous man. What a confusing, infuriating, troubled man. If only she knew what was troubling him. If he told her, she could help him. She wanted to help him, to understand what had shaped him into the man he was today, crumpled and broken on the sofa. Her heart ached as she brushed her fingers lightly over his hair. She tucked the blanket around his back, her heart still warm from the things he had said about her, coherent or not.
Her throat tightened as a single tear slipped down her cheek. “Oh, Jack. You are difficult, aren’t you?”
The complicated emotions in her heart had been taken on a chaotic ride, much like when Jack had driven the cart the day of their wedding. Had Jack been given to her so she could learn to be patient? It was a fault of hers to be unwilling to wait for things. There were other things she wished she could slow down, such as the rate of her heart when he was near her, and the rate at which her feelings for him had grown. It had happened slowly at first, but watching him now, she felt as though all the defenses around her heart had just been trampled.
Even so, that would not stop her from giving him a thorough scolding the next day.
