Chapter 5
Teresa
Most of the passengers had already left the ship, yet Grace was nowhere to be found. After checking her cabin twice, I had decided to try my luck at the luggage carts.
I had our luggage tickets clutched in my hand, while Patrick was off searching for a representative of our hotel. I had plenty of time to think and so my mind was laden with thoughts of that night.
What had I been thinking to initiate a kiss like that? I was thoroughly ashamed of my behavior. More shameful still—and unsettling for that matter—was the fact that my thoughts kept returning to the memory. I could not seem to forget the sensation of his lips on mine, how passion burned between our bodies. Dear heavens, I was attracted to him. And what was I going to do about that?
I realized I was about to rip off my emerald wristwear and tried to calm myself down. Normally, I wasn't keen on wearing jewelry, but I'd worn the gems as a welcoming gesture. That, and because they looked pretty, shaped like green droplets on a silver wreath.
"Good morning, my beautiful lady," announced a male voice, startling me. I turned to behold a skinny man dressed in a black suit and service cap. "It seems to me you're looking for a hotel clerk. Do tell me the name of your hotel and I shall help you find the right one."
I gave him a half-smile. "Thank you, but my husband is already—"
Before I could finish my sentence, the man snatched the tickets out of my hand and took to his heels.
"Hey!" I exclaimed. Some people turned their heads, but did not otherwise engage in aiding me. On the contrary, they stepped out of the thief's path, facilitating his escape. I frowned and shook my head.
Without wasting time, I swept my skirts and went after him.
I chased him on a straight line across the deck, pushing through the crowd and shoving people aside. Many a hideous remark branded my passage, though no one seemed to bother with the actual criminal. Still I was determined not to lose sight of the little thief.
He glanced over his shoulder once and I saw surprise take over his features as he registered my advance. That increased my resolve, but also his speed. I was becoming breathless and soon he would reach the gangway and the vast world outside the ship, when abruptly, he tripped on what I realized to be Patrick Jane's foot.
The thief fell on the floor and I threw myself on top of him. I pinned his arms down. He tried to fight, pushing backwards with his head to strike me. I avoided the impact, rolled him over and punched him in the nose. I felt the uttermost satisfaction as I pried my possessions from his fingers.
"That should teach you not to steal from a lady!" I yelled, as I rose on my feet, dusting and fixing my dress.
"Here, let me hold these for you," Patrick's voice came at my ear. I looked up at him, relieved to hear a familiar voice. His bright smile gave me pause, he looked overly entertained. Was he laughing at me? I supposed my appearance was the farthest thing from feminine at that moment. My gaze fled past him, where I realized I'd attracted an audience. I spotted shock, terror and even disgust in people's expressions.
"Some lady," I heard someone scoff as they passed me.
For God's sake, was I supposed to let the damned thief go?
I huffed and noticed Patrick's hand waiting to take the tickets. Our hotel clerk stood right beside him, making a pitiful effort of feigning a smile. I shoved the tickets in Patrick's hand and waited for him to thank the man.
"Well done," he commended, his voice full of amusement. "How does it feel to be the hero of the day?"
I grimaced, looking sideways. "Doesn't look like they think I'm a hero," I muttered.
"Oh don't mind them, the men feel threatened and the women are jealous," he reassured me. "What matters is you caught the bad guy... Well not a bad guy really, just a poor man fending for his family."
I turned to stare at him. "Excuse me? Are you saying I should have let him run with our belongings?"
"Think from his perspective," he said in a calm, educative tone. He waved his hand to indicate my appearance. "You look like a rich woman, most probably with enough money in your bank to compensate for any material loss. Don't get me wrong, you look lovely in your dresses, but for you they are ornaments, whereas he needs them to survive."
I huffed through my nose. "Stealing from people is a crime, regardless of their wealth. The law shouldn't be played with," I countered.
"And the law is always right, isn't it?" he challenged, raising a brow.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My gaze shifted to the man in question. Authorities were pulling him off the floor, trying to arrest him. There was blood on his philtrum. Suddenly, I regretted punching him so hard.
Patrick was right—the law wasn't always right. And it certainly wasn't equal to justice. Otherwise uncle Volker would be in prison by now.
I sighed in surrender. "Wait!" I shouted at the authorities. A smile slowly shaped on Patrick Jane's lips.
They stopped and looked at me. The thief raised his head, his eyes defensive, his chin stubborn. I took a breath, then held out my wrist and pulled the emerald bracelet off my hand.
"Take it," I said, offering it to him.
His eyes widened, wavering between me and the precious jewelry.
"Use this to feed your family and find yourself an honest job," I instructed him.
Hesitantly, he raised his hand and curled his fingers around my gift. He was still eyeing me suspiciously.
I turned my attention to the authorities, who observed the entire exchange with growing confusion.
"Forgive me, this was all a misunderstanding. Please, let the man go."
They shook their heads in disapproval, but did as I requested.
"If I catch you stealing again, I won't be as forgiving," I warned the thief.
He nodded once as a sign of gratitude and left with my prized possession.
"That was very noble of you," Patrick said quietly, standing next to me.
I tucked my chin in, attempting a smile. "Thanks..."
A sheen of long red hair caught my gaze then.
"Grace!" I called out.
The woman jumped a good foot, then whirled around. Grace was as radiant as ever, wearing a purple gown and a flower-bonnet with curling ribbons. I would never brave this kind of headwear, but I had to admit, it augmented her charm. She sighed with relief and slipped through the crowd to meet me.
"Oh milady, I am so happy to see you. I could not remember where we had agreed to meet." She sounded flustered. Her voice was shaky, as though she was holding back emotion. I realized she had been on the verge of panicking.
"Don't worry," I tried to comfort her, feeling out of my depth, "What matters is we found each other."
She nodded, then shyly glanced at Patrick. She gave him a polite smile, before she turned to pin me with an intense look. I realized I hadn't introduced the two of them.
"Mr. Ja— Patrick," I scurried to correct myself. It was one thing to call him by his last name and entirely another to have people hear me address my husband so formally. "Please meet my friend, Grace. She will be joining us at our hotel."
He smiled brightly and extended his hand. I raised my brow at his reaction, surprised at his burst of friendliness. He wasn't exactly the type of man to be warm to strangers.
"Pleased to meet you," he said.
Grace smiled reluctantly as she shook his hand.
"I've heard a lot about you from Teresa. Are you really a psychic, sir? She doesn't believe so, but—"
"I'm no more a psychic than a frog is a prince," Patrick explained.
"Oh." Grace was visibly disappointed.
"Shall we go? All the vehicles will be taken up," I pressed then.
Patrick nodded. "I fully agree with you, milady," he said, then turned around and offered both his arms. Grace smiled sweetly and perched herself from his elbow. I rolled my eyes and lazily caught his other arm. We strode toward the vehicles.
Patrick gave the driver the destination, then opened the door and turned to Grace. She was preoccupied with removing her bonnet. Patrick was extremely patient with her. In fact, he treated her like a piece of china. He gently assisted her inside the carriage and even offered to hold her bonnet while she adjusted her skirts. Once again, I raised my brow, watching his ridiculous behavior. At the same time, I was pleased to watch him treat my friend with such gentleness—Grace needed exceptional care at her condition, even though she wouldn't admit so.
He turned to me then. His eyes lifted up as he read my expression. I realized a smile had crept on my face and I quickly smoothed out my features, clearing my throat. He quietly offered me his palm and I let him help me get inside, blushing in the process. Why, touching his skin was a direct trip to memory lane and the kiss that we had shared.
Our ride was mostly in silence. I often caught Mr. Jane looking at me, or so I imagined. Now and then Grace would draw my attention to point out at a coffee house or a bootery that was also famous in our country. I hid my disappointment. I wanted nothing in Boston to remind me of London. I had my gaze cast out the window. To my relief, there was one primary difference between the two cities. Where an ever present gray film loomed over the buildings in London, Boston's sky was pristine clean.
Patrick
"Hello, my name is Patrick Jane. I would like to sign in for two rooms, and book an extra one, please."
The male receptionist nodded, putting on his business smile. "Gladly, sir. Please wait a minute while I confirm your reservations and procure your room keys."
I nodded, then turned and rested my side against the counter.
Madeleine had explicitly asked to secure reservations at the Hamilton House, just outside of Boston, as she didn't want her granddaughter mingling with the common businessman.
The hotel was a plain gray, granite building on the outside. The inside, however, was where the owners had obviously invested all their money in. It was the definition of grand, complete with a polished checkered floor and magnificent white pillars circling the gigantic foyer.
The crowd would have screamed opportunity to my past self. About two hundred men of the upper-crust society came and went, either reading the newspapers at the lounge or forming groups to demonstrate their political views. There were only a few women in sight and they were all accompanied by men. The male gaze was not to be trusted—that much was evident in the way all men in the lobby maintained a firm grip on their wives and daughters. And it was evident in the growing discomfort I now witnessed on Grace's expression. She had pulled up a fan and was trying to disappear behind it. With little success.
I had left both women at the lounge, but Teresa was nowhere to be seen. I rose a little on my toes and tipped to the side to check behind a group of men standing near the lounge, thinking they had probably hid her petite figure from view. I was surprised to find I was wrong. I left my relaxed position altogether and scoured the lobby with my eyes. I was about to walk up to Grace and question her whereabouts when abruptly, I spotted her.
She was indeed hidden by the group of men at the lounge after all—only she was not behind them, but among them. They had swarmed to engage her in conversation. She was not intimidated in the slightest. She was keeping a firm stance, questioning them. She was, as always, entirely unaware of her attractiveness and the vile thoughts these men were most certainly making about her.
I turned to the receptionist. "Actually," I started, throwing another glance back at them, "I've changed my mind. I would like to keep one of the reserved rooms and change the other for a double room with two separate beds."
"I'm afraid our double rooms only have double beds, sir."
I tapped my finger on my lip, giving it some quick thought. "How about couches? Does any room come with a couch?" I asked.
The receptionist gave me an inquiring look, but didn't word any prying thoughts. He put on a thin smile. "I have just the one, sir."
I smiled back. "Excellent."
I pocketed the keys in a hurry and turned toward the sitting area. I studied Teresa closely. My immediate instinct was to put myself between her and the hungry mob, but I hesitated. What if she liked one of them?
The thought had me reaching for her gaze across the room, searching for signs of keen interest or sexual excitement. I found neither, but at the same time, I couldn't discard the possibility that she simply kept her true affections private. And why did that matter so much suddenly?
In the end, my promise to Madeleine decided it for me. I had sworn I would protect Teresa and I would follow my duty unless she expressed a different wish.
I approached the little gathering. Teresa caught my intense stare and I saw her falter and blush amidst her speech. The sweet color on her cheeks made her all the more arousing. Silence fell over the group as each one followed her gaze toward me. I swiftly put on a facade.
"Teresa, my darling, I was looking for you," I announced, bolstering myself next to her and passing my arm around her shoulders. Several of the men frowned at me, while a few gave me an outright scowl. Teresa went rigid, taking some time to adapt to my ploy. She finally feigned a smile for her new acquaintances.
"Gentlemen, please meet my husband, Mr. Jane," she introduced me. They all took turns shaking my hand, some squeezing it a little too hard.
"Patrick, these men were kind enough to share information about our new coun—"
"That little filly is yours?" asked one of the men, acting as though Teresa had not spoken at all.
My hand squeezed Teresa's shoulder. I hated this man's tone and I hated his arrogant, ugly smirk. In all my life, I had detested violence, but here I was, wishing I could plant my fist in the road gutter he had for a mouth. Teresa's calm, ringing voice interrupted my most savage tendencies.
"I didn't notice any horses in the lobby, Mr. Smith," she remarked with a condescending smile.
Laughter rose among the men.
The man named Smith kept looking at me, as though waiting for me to speak on behalf of my wife.
I leaned my head slightly toward Teresa. "I'm sorry, darling, is there a problem with Mr. Smith's eyes? Because you're speaking to him, but it seems he's looking at me," I asked her, feigning genuine concern.
"He must be confused, honey," Teresa played along.
She maintained her gaze on the man, until finally she had his reluctant attention. "I was referring to you, milady," he admitted, though with his previous arrogant attitude subdued.
"In that case," said Teresa, all humor gone from her expression, "look me in the eyes when you address me and wait until I've finished speaking before you speak," she demanded, holding the man's gaze firmly, her green eyes ablaze.
The man turned red, his derogatory smile shrinking and finally disappearing.
"Yes, ma'am."
"You aren't wearing a ring," another man pointed out.
At that, Teresa had nothing to answer. I felt her stiffen, so I jumped to her rescue.
"Ring or not, she's still Mrs. Jane," I announced, determined to erase all doubt of our little scam.
"Jane? Well now, I'm sure she didn't call herself Jane," said the second man again.
Teresa smiled, pulling up a front. "I forgot, Mr. Haffner," she blurted out. "We are newly married."
"Now, if you'll excuse us... " I started, getting thoroughly tired of the interrogation.
"Patrick Jane? The psychic?" sounded another voice then. An elder man standing at the back of the crowd scrutinized me—I had been too occupied with the younger, hungry men to notice I had attracted his attention. If I had, I would have rushed to pull myself and Teresa away from the mass. Now it was too late. The others turned to look at the speaker.
"I read about you," he went on. "A serial killer murdered your family, right?"
A murmur passed through the gathered, their interest piqued. I remained silent, calmly observing the man.
He nodded to himself. "Losing your wife and child like that… makes a man reckless, untethered. Fills him with anger and shame that he cannot express."
I realized my mistake immediately. I had let myself become too distracted. My slip was only minimal and yet people were already peeking through the cracks of my chipped armor. I forced myself to focus now, hoping it wasn't too late.
I held the man's gaze firmly, studying him with new eyes. I already knew that Red John was tall and old. This man fit the description. And yet, I doubted that Red John would risk capturing my attention like that.
"And yet," he said, echoing my thoughts, before he turned his gaze to Teresa, "here you are already with a new wife at your side. You must be brave… or foolish."
"I didn't catch your name," I said.
"Oh me? I'm no one."
I nodded. "Mr. No One, interesting name."
"Very rare, indeed," Teresa echoed at my side.
The man smiled. "Bret Stiles, psychiatrist, at your service," he announced.
I nodded, smiling for a brief second, then growing serious. "No, thank you."
Teresa cleared her throat.
"Excuse me, kind gentlemen, but Mr. Jane and I just arrived from a long journey at sea and have important business to attend to."
She stepped forward, tugging at my hand. I took a last measuring look of the old man, before I let her lead us away from the thirsty crowd.
"Ugh, that was a nightmare!" she fumed.
Her remark confused me, driving my thoughts away from the mysterious encounter. I turned slightly and examined her with a side glance. She was genuinely in discomfort.
"If you really hated talking to them, why did you initiate a conversation in the first place?" I asked her, hiding my annoyance with the incident.
She looked up at me, searching my eyes with that clear gaze of hers and I was wondering whether some of the annoyance had spilled out into my voice after all.
"I simply asked but one of them for information, and then they started swarming as if I was honey."
The comparison held my attention, as comparisons usually did. People unwittingly revealed their most hidden instincts and desires in the things they chose to compare themselves or others with. Teresa's choice of words told me that she had found the men in the lobby annoying—like bees. I couldn't prevent myself from smiling.
Now that I knew she cared for none of them, I could almost feel sympathy for the men. There was nothing not to like, after all. Such an entirely feminine thing she was. Sensuality oozed from every inch of her—the shape of her lips, the challenging look in her eyes, the freckles that covered her skin, taunting you to trace their path throughout her body. And more than that, the very way she held herself—with elegance and prestige—the maturity that characterized her despite the young of her age, and the deeply hidden emotions that augmented her mystery.
The memory of kissing her flashed through my mind. I felt the temperature surge on my body and worked on calming my heartbeat. I conjured the thought of a boat peacefully sliding on open waters. I was skilled at this, controlling my bodily reactions. The lady would never suspect just how much of an impact she had on me. And soon, when we both went on our separate ways, I would no longer have to solve the mystery of her appeal.
When have you ever left a mystery unsolved? Another voice challenged in my head. I ignored it.
"Whatever information could they give you that you couldn't simply request from me?" I wondered.
"No offense, but you are the only American I know. It doesn't hurt to have a second perspective on matters. And besides, you're going to leave sooner or later, I need to get myself acquainted with the people, gain a few allies," she defended.
I nodded. "Fair enough." It was always refreshing to be reminded of how clever and unafraid she was. Though I was worried whether her lack of fear in this case was based on a lack of experience with men of this country. Her folk were more preoccupied with image and gentle manners. The same did not apply on this side of the ocean.
I sighed and turned to place myself in her path. She stopped abruptly, giving me a startled look.
"Look," I started. "I don't mean to sound overly controlling, but I would feel…" I paused, searching for the proper word, "more at peace if you kept your guard up with men around here."
Teresa smiled sweetly. "Thanks for your concern, but my grandmother has already informed me of the dangers of speaking to strangers," she defended stubbornly. "Besides, you've already seen that I am capable of protecting myself," she pointed out.
I shrugged. "Accidents happen to everybody," I countered.
She shook her head, a smile lifting the corner of her lips. "No one would dare accost me in the middle of the hotel lobby."
"Oh? And how are you so certain of that?" I challenged, feeling the sudden urge to shake some sense into her. Also feeling the urge to kiss her. In fact, the lobby was so crowded that anyone could have grabbed hold of her and dragged her outside without being noticed.
She stared me right in the eye. "You wouldn't let them."
Her answer, given so quickly and in such a matter-of-fact voice, sliced right through my frustration and reached my heart. The compliment shocked me. How could she have such faith in me? It was downright humbling.
"You're right, I wouldn't let anyone touch you," I heard myself say. Her eyes were wide-open and for the tiniest bit of a second I was lost in them. I forced myself to break the trance. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't keep your distance."
She blinked, disoriented, then nodded once.
Someone cleared their throat loudly then and I realized Grace had walked up to our side, glancing awkwardly at each one of us.
"Grace," Teresa acknowledged her.
I smiled gently at the woman. Knowing that she was pregnant made me three times more careful around her. I remembered how Angela had been—all fuzzy and hormonal. Grace was mostly good at hiding her mood-swinging and fragile emotions, but she, too, needed the utmost care. Teresa had been very generous to take this woman under her wing. I wondered what sort of an imbecile would have treated her with such cruelty.
"Shall we get you settled in your room?" I asked her.
Her eyes lit up. "So you managed to secure a room for me? With so many men in the lobby, I assumed all rooms would be taken."
"Grace, even if we didn't find a room, you would have slept with me. I told you I would take care of you. I don't break my promises," Teresa consoled her.
Grace looked at me, then back at her. "But what about your husband?" she asked through her teeth.
Teresa waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, he would have found a way to get himself comfortable."
She took Grace's arm and lead her toward the stairs, leaving me behind.
I stood there, shaking my head sideways. "He would have found a way to get himself comfortable," I mocked her tone under my breath. "He could sleep on the street for all I care."
"Mr. Jane?" I heard her call my name from behind.
I turned on my heel and smiled at her. I hastened my pace to catch up with the two women.
To be honest, I was grateful that she hadn't questioned our quarter arrangements any further. For all she knew, having a shared bedroom at the hotel was another of her grandmother's instructions. And I was more than happy to leave her with that impression.
"Kimball," I heard Teresa utter as we neared the door of our room. We had already left Grace at her chamber.
The robust man stood like a statue, his arms folded in front of him, his brows slightly bent in a guilty expression. The guilt I understood, but there was something else about his posture as well. He was too still. As if his spirits had abandoned him. I slowed my pace, lingering a few steps behind.
Teresa walked up to the man and took a good look at him.
"I don't understand, how are you here?" she asked.
"I might have forgotten something in the carriage," I announced, seeing that the situation was about to get intense. "I should go and check."
Teresa whirled, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You knew?" she accused.
I lifted my hands, pledging innocence.
"Milady," Cho interfered, "don't blame him, I asked him to keep my presence a secret."
I shrugged. "You heard the man," I muttered, turning to make my exit.
"Milady," I heard Cho repeat, only this time his voice sounded more burdened, deep with grief.
I froze in place.
"I received a letter," said Madeleine's loyal steward. "Your grandmother... She has passed."
A/N: I know it's been a long time, I'm sorry for the delay again and I'm so grateful to all of you who kept asking for an update. I hope this new chapter does not find you with an outdated interest in the story. The good news is that next chapter is already half-written, so it will be up soon. I would also like to warn you here that it might go into M-rated territory. Also, though it is not necessary to have read the book to enjoy this story, I would totally recommend reading it. Some of the views held are old-school, but overall it is thoroughly enjoyable. Plus I think it would serve as an extra excitement to recognize the similiraties between the fanfic and the original, but again of course this is not necessary.
