Chapter 1
London, England, 1898
Teresa
The funfair had finally graced England. Kim raved over amusement rides, freak shows and fortune tellers in her letter. She had already visited twice, she claimed, despite the headaches of her mother that it did not befit the proper character of a lady. She was only rather peeved that Sophie did not share her high spirits, showering her instead with doubtfullness.
Please, Teresa, I am certain you would be delighted, she implored.
And quite persuasive she was, for one week ago I seriously considered her wish. I was prepared to let go of the humiliation my last appearance in public had caused me and taste the adventure. Now the joyous tone of her letter was drowned under the dolor of dreadful news.
Dear Ms Lisbon,
I am sorry to announce that Lady Madeleine is sick. I am afraid this time there won't be a reprieve. You should come.
Kimball
And next to it lay a second letter, from my ailing grandmother herself:
Teresa, she started in her ever rigid tone.
As I assume you already know, my days are limited. My death would grant my son Tommy your guardianship, which I cannot allow. Just yesterday I received a mysterious letter from Ms Edgecomb, your niece's babysitter. Your brother's wife died of cholera. He is mostly assumed dead as well, but local police has forbidden entry to his house in order to contain the disease. Little Annabeth requires a motherly figure to help raise her up. You must travel to Boston at once.
But a young woman such as yourself cannot take the long journey on her own. There is but one solution I am afraid. To protect you, I have arranged your marriage to a man. It will be a private ceremony at my quarters. I know you will understand this is an act of desperation, I would not wish you marry a stranger. Your husband will be a man named Patrick Jane. You ought not to worry, as I have scrutinized his past. Everything should be ready by the time you arrive.
Your beloved grandmother, Madeleine
Within a day, I packed my scarce belongings, farewelled my uncle Virgil and embarked on the train to London.
My grandmother's courtyard was rumbling with creditors. Anger babbled in my stomach. God, she was barely dead and these vultures already circumvented her fortune.
Of course I knew who I should blame.
Uncle Volker's shady business affairs had assigned him to numerous debts. That, and the copious insurance he had paid to muffle the scandal that involved him and the Shaws' daughter had just about left him depending on his mother's money. Money he believed he would soon inherit.
I swept the skirt of my cream dress and rushed up the stairs, slipping through the claws of the men that scurried to shove their cards into my hands. Kimball was suddenly at my elbow. "Get away from her," he ordered. He escorted me through the doorway and took great delight at slamming the door in their faces.
Once we were safe inside the foyer, he turned and beheld my eyes, wearing his ever coy expression.
"Your grandmother is upstairs in her chambers, milady." His eyes briefly estimated my attire. "You look like a girl."
I smiled. My childhood friend and loyal steward of Madam's estate was not used at seeing me in pretty lady's clothes. "Trust me, Kimball," I said, "were it not for Madam's wish to see me dressed in proper fashion, I would sooner wear my riding pants."
"She will be pleased to see you," he said and gestured toward the curve of the staircase. I barely took one step when ringing laughter rose to my ears, along with the subtle clinking of glass. It sounded as though it came through the salon doors. And quite sure, two men lounged at the end of the hallway, drinking champagne. I felt I had misjudged my environment. The house was packed with a crowd. I looked at Kimball, a frown developing between my eyes.
"Did Madam invite these people?" Though I doubted she would have.
Kimball sighed. I realized he had been in a hurry to get me upstairs, lest the situation would soak my awareness. "Your uncle Tommy invited some guests to celebrate the matriarch's departure."
"The vile man does not have a single redeeming quality, does he?"
I gathered my skirts and headed straight to the salon doors.
Kimball spoke in a rush. "Milady both your uncle and your cousin Brenda are inside. It would be best if you avoided making a scene."
I froze midway. As much as it riled me, he was right. My uncle could not know of my arrival until after my grandmother's secret plans for me were fulfilled. I latched onto Kimball's arm and climbed up the stairs.
Grandmother's chambers were cast in dark. I stumbled on a footstool, then struggled to get my bearings.
"You're late." The old woman's voice lashed across the room.
"I apologize, ma'am."
"Sit down. We have much to discuss."
"I cannot find chairs."
Lady Madeleine turned to her maid. "Light a candle, Ronda. Then I wish to be alone with my granddaughter."
I sat by her four-poster bed. "Why is it so dark in here, ma'am?" I asked her.
"I am dying, Teresa. It is wise to make it difficult for death to find me."
I shivered. Lady Madeleine was neither superstitious nor morbid. She was afraid of her son. I curled my fist. I hated him down to the marrow of my bones.
"Are you prepared for the tasks ahead?" Grandmother asked.
I nodded. "You've taught me well."
"Not as well as I would like I'm afraid. I never told you how to be a wife. You're so not a wife, Teresa. Still lost in those detective novels of yours. Not that I am not enticed by Sherlock Watson and John Holmes myself."
I wanted to correct her, but I had a feeling she mixed the names on purpose.
"You need not worry, ma'am. Uncle Virgil told me enough to go on."
She laughed. It was a pleasant sound. "And what does my brother in the Highlands know about married life?"
"He showed me how to aim a gun. And he told me that if my husband does not learn to value me, I should use one to shoot him."
She smiled, then the smile became wistful. "Annie needs you."
"I know. I am going to find her."
"I never asked you why your brother fled to America. Now I realize it was because I feared the answer. It was Tommy, wasn't it?"
My stomach churned, remembering my brother's departing words. How uncle Volker had approached him. "He threatened his wife and daughter."
"By the time you board the Emerald tonight, he's no longer going to be a threat."
"I am most hopeful."
A pause.
"Tell Annie kind stories about me. I wish to be remembered fondly."
A lump developed in my throat. I rubbed my hands maniacally.
"I love you," she said and tears finally welled in my eyes. I strained to hold them back, knowing she detested crying.
"I love you, too."
She didn't seem to notice my distress, instead explaining to me everything that needed to be done afterwards. She had transferred her money to the bank in Boston and I was to settle matters with the solicitors there.
"In a few minutes my phycisian will announce my miraculous recovery. You are to attend the ball your uncle organized. You will set aside your humiliation, you will smile and celebrate my good health. You will stay until midnight. No one must know you're leaving at first light. No one. Are you ready?"
I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. "Yes."
"Then, let's start the wedding ceremony.
Patrick
The salon was a grand show of lickfingers and mumbling coves. I stole a champagne flute and a tart from the buffet and angled my way through the crowd. This was the real freak show, I thought. Not the one at the carnival. Everybody here wore masks.
The unmistakable scent of Otto de Roses passed my senses. I turned and saw a man in black attire twirl a young orange-haired woman in a red dress with feathers sticking out at all angles and a wire contraption from underneath. But when the lady came the closest to me, the perfume I caught was Eau de Cologne, the sharp scent was what every woman squirted herself with nowadays. Interesting. The lady's cavalier wore a girl's aroma. I spotted the girl a few steps further and smiled to myself. Secret affair.
I was in search of a surface to place my drink, but it seemed the host had assumed the guests would gulp down their liquor and discard the glasses, or cling onto them for social stability. The latter seemed to be most dominant.
I finally found a piano. The pianist, an old man with a frock and combed white hair, glowered at me once I put down my glass. I decided his chafe amused me so I smiled and let my gaze wander like a fool's. He wavered between finishing his song and reprimanding me.
I pulled the silver timepiece from my vest pocket. Only twenty minutes until midnight. I pulled a chair from the back and sat down next to the piano. My fingers soon started fiddling with my ring.
Madeleine had come forward. I had some doubts initially, but in the end, the old crow had honored our agreement. My heart and thoughts fizzled with the new information.
Red John's last location was in Cincinatti. There was a letter addressed to a woman in Boston, Lorelai Martins. Carefully folded in my vest pocket.
I did not know how Lady Madeleine of London had chanced upon such a clue, but the woman appeared to have ears in all places. I had treated her with skepticism and hostility when she first came to my cubicle at the carnival. And if I was to be honest, I still did not trust entirely that she had no connection to the notorious criminal.
But her love for her granddaughter was honest.
And so now I was married to her offspring.
Just a paper, I told Angela. A small price to pay. It was almost like I heard her answer, You sold your loyalty to me now, is yourself going to be next?
I tasted my drink and chuckled under my breath as I caught the pianist's frown with the corner of my eye.
Two men emerged from the wall of crowd. One was thin, short, the shiny plumpness of youth barely extracted from his features. The other was taller, older, with thin lips and a bald head.
"You must be the psychic," said the bald man. He extended his hand. "Gale Bertram."
I did not rise from my seat. I was not keen to own his acquaintance. But I gave his hand a shake.
"Patrick Jane. There is no such thing as psychics."
The other man looked at his friend for an introduction, smiled shyly and blushed when one didn't come. "And I am Luther Wainwright," he said, then remembered to extend his hand.
Mr Bertram frowned. "You're not a psychic?"
"Not in the way that you think, no."
He smiled. "What's the way I think?"
"I will not tell you you actually do not believe in psychics and placed a wager with your friend here on whether I would actually try to connect you to your grandfather or read through the fact that he is not actually dead. I am not the kind of psychic that will tell you that."
I took a sip from my drink, reveling in Gale's shock and Luther's… terror.
"My God, you're good," said Luther.
I waved my glass in acknowledgement.
Suddenly the music paused. I was most certain the pianist had reached his limits, but as I drew my gaze toward him, I read the room's stillness. The dancing couples had turned toward the entrance.
"God love her," Gale whispered. "She showed up."
There, at the top of the steps stood… my wife.
I had refused to leave my seat before, but now my legs moved of their own accord. Our wedding ceremony had been in the dim candlelight of the old lady's bed chamber, so I had not really been able to set my eyes on her.
She was beautiful—a proper princess, I would say. Dressed in a royal pink dress with embroidered flowers on her bosom and long veil on her sleeves. She was blushing, fairly uncomfortable at the attention she'd attracted. I watched as a pained expression took over her face—something she most probably meant to be perceived as a smile. She looked so feminine, and yet so unladylike. I suddenly had the urging desire to ask her to dance.
"She's got courage, this one," Gale remarked. "To stand in the same room with her ex-fiance and his new wife, and yet smile."
It was the first time anything this ghoul said caught my interest. "Ex-fiance?"
He nudged his chin toward the crowd. "The beauty in royal pink was engaged to the marquess, Gabe Mancini, a month ago. At the last minute he bailed, left her on the altar to elope with her cousin, Lady Brenda. It was a huge humiliation for her family."
I suddenly felt inexplicable irritation. The man Gale had pointed at was the one with the lady's perfume. Now he stared at the entrance with drool on his lip. What an idiot.
Glass shattered and I turned in time to see the pianist's hand wave over the spot my champagne used to be. He returned to his seat with satisfaction and started the music anew. Lady Teresa started descending the stairs and the bystanders were forced to quit gawking.
I excused myself from my company and stepped into the crowd.
Teresa
I could not seem to find my escort.
I weaved my way through the intense stares and fake smiles, already feeling sick of the mockery of it all.
I never managed to fit in here. The only reason I ever wished to was in order to please my grandmother. But in truth, I would sooner run to the countryside and spend time with my uncle's horses. They were a better company than most.
Madam would always accuse me of acting like a tomboy. Instead of occupying myself with a proper lady's affairs, I dreamt of being a detective. I didn't think of it as such a terrible dream myself. After all, England had more than enough women wandering around in frilly dresses. And men were quite overrated.
I spotted Gabe with my cousin across the ballroom. I quickly averted my gaze, feeling warm blood rush to my cheeks. Amidst all the chaos, I had failed to consider their possible presence during the affair. My stomach twisted. Oh God, what would I say if they came over to me? Congratulations? I realized I was anxiously looking back at the way I had entered. No, I thought to myself suddenly. I would not give them the pleasure of running. I took a deep fortifying breath and walked further through the crowd.
My searching gaze soon attracted invitations to the dance floor. I politely turned them down, though my irritation grew more by the minute. Where was my escort? I decided I would go once around the ballroom, carefully avoiding my cousin and her new husband, and if my search proved fruitless, I would simply leave by myself.
My plans did not last long though, as three women ambushed me. Kim Fischer and Sophie Miller, my friends from childhood, came rushing to my side. I smiled broadly at them, relieved to spot a friendly face. The third woman though, Erica Flynn, was a known gossip, a vicious one at that, and so I was not as happy to see her.
"Teresa, darling, you look dashing," Erica announced.
I tried to make my smile sincere. "Thank you, Erica. You look lovely yourself."
"I do, don't I?" she answered, casually waving a fan in front of her face. "Though the right eyes don't seem to have noticed yet."
Kim and Sophie chuckled under their breaths, which made me realize there was a story behind Erica's comment.
"Oh?" I asked, feigning interest.
"Erica's been trying to gain this man's attention the whole evening," Sophie scurried to explain.
"Perhaps, it's for the best, Erica," Kim interjected. "Your family would have a heart attack should this man pursue you."
Erica smiled lopsidedly. "He's quite the bad boy, isn't he?"
Kim rolled her eyes, then looked at me. "He is not from here. He is with the carnival I wrote to you about in my letter. Rumor has it he takes a different woman to his bed every night."
"And he is a psychic," Sophie added eagerly.
I nodded. "Is he now?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. A noble woman and a carnival employee would make quite the scandal, I had to admit.
"I don't know his name yet. But there is something sinfully erotic about him," Erica went on lustfully.
"Erica, what's the name of the perfume you're wearing?" Sophie asked, changing the subject. "I should buy it myself."
"It does smell wonderdul, doesn't it? It's the Otto de Roses," she boasted. "But enough about me, darling," she said, turning her attention to me. "I was honestly amazed that you showed up. Especially after the humiliation you went through. It must have been hard for you to work up the courage."
"Shame on you, Erica," Kim reprimanded her, before I had the chance to say a word. "Teresa, you don't have to answer her."
"No, Kim, it's fine. I am actually quite alr-"
"They say Brenda is pregnant. She's been all the while he was courting you," Erica interrupted me, observing my reaction.
The other women glared at her. Erica shrugged. "What? She deserves to know."
I smiled. I would not satisfy her with a dramatic reaction. "Thanks for your concern, Erica. But I would rather not talk about it."
"And you don't have to," Kim leaped to my defense. "Trust me, Teresa. You could have no better luck than to be rid of this scoundrel."
I was about to change the topic, but right then, I noticed the very object of our discussion making his way over to me. My cousin was trailing right behind him, fuming with anger. My previous resolve vanished, panic consuming me. I picked up the hem of my dress, ready to bolt.
"Oh God, he is coming over here!" Erica flustered.
Kim grabbed my hand, blocking my exit. "You can't sneak away, Teresa," she murmured to me. "You would be giving them both the upper hand."
I tried to pull my arm. "I am just trying to prevent a scene."
"Someone must introduce me!" Erica gushed suddenly, swinging her fan maniacally.
"What are you talking about?" Kim frowned. "You already know the marquess."
"The marquess?" Erica asked, confused. "Who said anything about the marquess?"
"Erica, you were right," Sophie said, enthralled. "He is very beautiful."
"Men are handsome, darling, not beautiful. But I do believe this one is both."
I finally managed to break free from Kim's hold. I stumbled back from the force and managed to regain my balance at the last moment. I picked up my dress and turned to bolt.
I froze. Gabe was already here, but so was... my escort. He stood right in front of me.
He was incredibly handsome. I had not realized during our short encounter in Grandmother's chambers. He was taller than I remembered, lean with light blond tousled hair. His eyes were the most enchanting blue, somehow infused with green, and there were creases at the corners, probably from smiling or squinting at the sun.
Suddenly, I remembered what Kim and Sophie had to say about him. He had a bad reputation. Hadn't they said that he traveled with the carnival? And that he slept with a different woman every night? Oh God, what sort of man had Grandmother married me to?
"Teresa, may I talk to you in private, please?" Gabe asked urgently.
"What?" Brenda fretted. "I'm not leaving you alone with her!" She flicked her pointy chin toward me, her eyes shooting fire in my direction.
Her and Gabe caught up in an argument. I ignored them, looking at my escort instead. I resolved to not hold onto rumors about his past. I had trust in Madam's judgment.
I cleared my throat. "I was looking for you," I remarked.
"I am sorry. Got caught up in the crowd," he said. His voice was pleasant. Soft, yet firm.
All at once, people started talking together.
"You two have met each other?" Kim wondered aloud.
"Teresa, don't talk to this man. He is lower than you. He is in fact a—" Gabe demanded.
"Oh be quiet, Gabe!" Erica interrupted him. "Teresa, darling, won't you introduce me to your friend?"
"But when would she have possibly met him? She only just arrived at the ballroom," Sophie speculated.
"Everyone be quiet," I demanded then, feeling my nerves on edge. I looked around, making sure I was obeyed. Gabe's mouth hanged open in surprise, my cousin's too, though she quickly turned her features into a scowl. The rest simply waited for my answer. I glanced up at my escort and squinted, puzzled by his expression. This entire parody seemed to entertain him.
"I believe it's time," I said.
He nodded. "We can leave."
Gabe sounded furious suddenly. "Leave? You're not going anywhere with him," he announced. "Teresa, I demand to speak to you privately." He took a step forward and almost grabbed my arm.
"I wouldn't touch her if I were you," warned my escort then.
He hadn't raised his voice and his tone was quite mild, but Gabe stepped back all the same, as if he had shouted at him. Then, angry that he had allowed himself such a slip of character, that he had actually obeyed my escort's command, he doubled his effort, only this time directed to him.
"Or else what? What are you going to do, little charlatan? Read my future?" he taunted him, towering over him with menace. "Did you know, Teresa? He's from the carnival! Practically a bastard!"
Everyone hushed, astonished at the vile word Gabe had just uttered.
Something came in me then. Maybe it was all the anger I had suppressed from the way he had humiliated me, maybe it was just that I was tired of listening to him. Maybe it was the two mixed together. I curled my hand into a proper fist, the way Uncle Virgil had taught me, and punched Gabe with all my might.
He stumbled back, holding his nose. I knew I had broken a dozen rules of lady etiquette, but the amount of pleasure I felt was worth all the stares.
"Teresa, please, you have to listen to me," Gabe kept coming, undettered.
"Uh-oh," I thought I heard my escort comment.
I grabbed Erica's fan and pointed it at Gabe. He froze in front of me.
"Say one more insult, Gabe, and I swear I will poke your eye out," I threatened. His mouth gaped open. He almost seemed like he actually feared me. The possibility of it was quite fulfilling, I had to admit.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," my escort remarked, exhilarated.
I raised my eyebrow at him. Did he mean he actually expected me to act like this?
"Teresa, whatever has come over you, darling?" Erica questioned.
I gave her back her fan and straightened my gown. "I'm ready to leave, sir," I told my escort.
"Yes, just a moment," he said and leaned toward Brenda.
"Mrs. Mancini, I think you'd be interested to know that your excuse of a husband here is having an affair with this woman." He pointed at Erica, who looked surprised, but not ashamed in the slightest.
Gabe frowned. "This is outrageous! Brenda, you can't believe a word this man utters, he is simply showing off to boost his business as a psychic," he accused.
"Oh, trust me, it's nothing like that," defended the accused. "It's a simple art of deduction. You need only consider the bold manner with which the lady practically asked him to shut up a few minutes earlier. That, and also, the fact that they are wearing matching perfumes. Ask your husband, Mrs. Mancini, why would he be carrying another woman's scent?"
It was my turn to be surprised. It was as though I was seeing Sherlock Holmes in the flesh. I stared at my cousin, wondering what her reaction would be.
Brenda let out a gasp. And then, against all my expectations, she rose to her husband's defense. "Wait here, Gabe," she said. "Father is Teresa's guardian. He will swiftly put an end to this charade."
There was nothing but pity I felt for her, as she turned to leave.
"Your father is not my guardian," I announced at her back.
"Oh that is only a matter of time," she boasted. "We both know you wouldn't want to rile him with the old lady practically on her death bed."
With that, she disappeared into the crowd, who were more or less throwing prying glances at our direction.
My escort offered his arm at me.
Suddenly, I felt relieved. After tonight, I would leave all this behind. I would never have to worry about etiquette or the rumors people spread behind my back. I would never have to look uncle Volker in the eye and pretend I didn't know of his vile actions. Once I walked out of this ballroom, I would be free.
I farewelled Kim and Sophie and passed my hand around my escort's elbow.
"Teresa!" Erica pleaded for my attention then. "Won't you please introduce me to the gentleman?"
"Of course. He is..." I looked up at him, realizing, to my great mortification, that I did not recall his name.
"Well?" Erica put her hands on her waist, frowning with impatience.
I glanced at him and noticed that he was also waiting to see how I would answer. My panic seemed to amuse him. I felt irritated, on top of everything. I wouldn't let him enjoy himself for long. I cleared my throat and smiled at Erica.
"He's my husband."
Author's note
Some time ago I was entertaining the idea of a Mentalist AU in the setting of the first romance novel I ever read, Prince Charming by Julie Garwood. So this is what happened.
I had this fanfic unfinished in my files for quite some time. I happened to see it the other day and thought to finish it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist or the novel Prince Charming. The rights belong to Bruno Heller and Julie Garwood respectively.
