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Chapter Nine
As Jackson sat in the parlor waiting for his sisters to finishing dressing for the ball that night, he thought over Emma's reaction at being told what Mr. Fitzherbert had disclosed to him.
She pulled her pale green shawl tighter around her slender frame; her fingers clutched at the thin fabric. The dying embers of the fire reflected in her eyes as she milled over the new information.
"I cannot believe that Mr. Liely would keep such a man in his favor, but I also cannot believe someone with the disposition and appearance of Mr. Fitzherbert would have need or reason to lie," she spoke at last. "Perhaps, they have both been wronged, mistaken in their beliefs. I do not believe that either man lies, but maybe they do not know their own truth."
Sighing, he adjusted his coat cuffs. He wasn't sure whether or not he agreed with Emma's sentiments. He didn't believe Mr. Fitzherbert would lie or that Mr. Liely would keep such a person in his company. That just left one option. Mr. Haddock was a manipulative bastard. It would not surprise him. He had seen his pride in action; he'd heard from his own lips about his inability to forgive, surely this wasn't too far of a stretch for such a man.
"Pathetic," he muttered to himself. Such a man who showed no shred of decency or care for friends or family did not deserve to participate in society, especially with the high influence Mr. Haddock had.
"I assume you are not speaking to me," a cool voice slithered through the room.
The young Mr. Overland looked up from his cuff to see Mr. Black perched in the doorway. "No. I was speaking to myself."
"Of yourself?" He smirked as he stalked in and crossed the room until he stopped at Jackson's feet. His amber eyes peered over his nose down at him.
His pride flared in his chest as he stood up to face his cousin. He frowned briefly at the fact that he only made it to the gentleman's shoulder. "Don't twist my words," he hissed.
"Why not?" Mr. Black responded, stepping closer so that their chests brushed. "I'm just making your words match the rest of you."
"What are you implying?"
"I believe you know," he said against Jackson's ear before pulling away with a smirk. Straightening his waistcoat, he turned and left the room as the bumbling ruckus of his sisters spilled down the stairs.
Jackson's nails bit into the palm of his hand as he watch the man saunter away and greet Sarah as she stepped into the foyer. His affections had been directed at his sister since Mrs. Overland had informed him the eldest's attachment to Mr. Liely. As he followed his family out of the house and down to the carriage, he caught Mr. Black's elbow.
"Do not think I do not know what you are doing, and I will not let you encroach. I suggest you leave her alone before I tear into you," he growled into the gentleman's ear.
"Oh, Jackson. You wound me. Is your opinion of me truly so low?"
"Yes."
Releasing the inky man, he stepped into the carriage, eager to reach the ball and eager to have the night end.
As Ms. Overland fell away from his arm to latch onto Mr. Liely's, the young Mr. Overland set off to search the gathering for the one person he wished to speak with. He had nearly made a round of the entire quarters before he spied the young woman in the midst of dancing a reel with one of the gentleman present. Smiling at the joy that painted her face, he stepped aside to the wall and waited for the song to end.
Once the chords fell away, in the lull just before they sparked back to life, he dashed over to Ms. Bennett and snatched her hand. "Next dance?" he asked as he pulled her into the line as the music started.
She laughed as she humored him. "I'll ignore that discourtesy because I'm eager to speak with you. It's been ages!"
He mirrored her laugh as he twirled her and led her down the dance.
"You seem in good spirits, Jack!"
"Oh, Jenny, you do not know me well enough! Can you not tell my true emotions from my spirits?"
"I had always believed you were never a fan of spirits because they resulted in true emotions?" she retorted with a smirk.
"My friend, you've struck the mark."
They parted ways to dance with another for a turn before coming back together.
"Jack, do tell me, what is troubling your mind."
"Mr. Haddock's character has been proven more insufferable than I had ever dreamt to imagine."
"What now?"
"I've recently been privy to the confession of one, Mr. Fitzherbert. He was the godson of the late Haddock and a childhood friend of the gentleman himself. With his father's death, instead of respecting his father's wishes, he ignored the dead man's desires and overlooked Mr. Fitzherbert's promised goods."
"Surely, you cannot believe every word of a man—"
"He gave me no reason to doubt his story," he responded, perhaps a tad harsher than he had intended.
As the dance ended, the two friends stood as a panting pair and clapped in appreciation for the musicians. Jackson offered Ms. Bennett his arm and escorted her away from the crowd gathering for the next dance and over to the refreshments.
"Mr. Overland."
"Yes," he answered promptly as he turned to see who addressed him.
"I was wondering if you would care to join me out on the veranda for a moment. I wish to speak with you," Mr. Haddock said.
"Certainly," he said.
As the gentleman walked away, weaving through the crowd, Jackson fell back into his friend. "I really just agreed, didn't I? Imbecile," he reprimanded.
"Oh, it shouldn't be as bad as you fear. I feel your natures feed quite well of the other. You may even enjoy his conversation if you could put aside everything you've heard and listen to him."
"Do not wish such an evil upon me; to enjoy the company of a man I'm determined to hate. That would be the definition of misfortune."
"Hate can be quite close to another emotion, both are fiery and passionate."
"What?" he asked, jumping at her insinuation. It had to be in his mind; she certainly wasn't speaking of that. She didn't know. No one did. Even if she did, such emotion to such a man would truly make the whole affair a sin.
Jennifer only smiled softly, offering no explanation and pushed him after the vanished figure of Mr. Haddock.
He weaved around the edge of the room until he reached the curtained glass French doors that led outside. The young Mr. Overland raised a finger and pushed aside the fabric. He peered out and spied the tall frame of Mr. Haddock highlighted by the moon and the lamplight. Steeling his nerves, he opened the door and stepped out. The only inclination he had that Mr. Haddock knew he was present was the stiffening of his shoulders as the door shut.
Straightening his waistcoat and running his fingers through his hair, he walked over to the railing. Jackson rested his hands on the cement balustrade and looked out to the gardens below. The dark hedges acted as a foil for the flowers glowing in the moonlight; somewhere in the distance, the trickle of a fountain hummed through the silent night. It would be a rather peaceful sight if it wasn't for the gentleman he stood next to.
The silence between the two extended through an entire minuet. A lively jig had picked up by the time Jackson decided he would speak, "Your friend has thrown quite the dance. It appears as if it will be the talk of the town for some time."
"Yes, idle prattle. The ideal way to get one's news," Mr. Haddock remarked.
However, the young Mr. Overland couldn't be sure whether or not the comment was made in teasing or sour sarcasm, so he held his tongue and waited for the gentleman to take his turn and say something. When after a length of time he failed to do so, he said, "It's your turn to speak. I've made a remark on the dance; perhaps you should talk about the size of the room we just came from or the number of couples it possessed."
"Why would I want to talk about something like that?"
"I don't know. Perhaps you'd care to inform me what you'd like to talk about, seeing as you are the one who wished to speak with me."
"I will say whatever you wish me to say."
"Hmph."
The musicians struck up another minuet in the ballroom through the curtained doors.
"Would you care to dance?"Mr. Haddock said softly.
"Pardon? But I believed you to loathe dancing with anyone you were not closely acquainted with."
"Precisely," he responded turning to the young Mr. Overland and offering his hand.
Jackson scoffed. "Have no young ladies taken your fancy that you must stoop to ask me?"
"Yes, but it isn't stooping," he responded as he snatched the shorter man's hand and pulled him away from the balustrade and led him through the movements of the dance.
"This is rather difficult without any others—and in the wrong position if I may say so," Jackson stumbled out. He couldn't even be sure whether or not he had said anything; the only sound he was privy to was the rushing of blood and the bloody loud beating of his heart.
"Perhaps, but it is safe from curious and prying eyes."
The young Mr. Overland darted his own eyes away from the emeralds that were boring into him.
"Do you often go with your sisters to Burgess?"
"Often enough," he replied before the temptation to jab at the gentleman took over. "When you came upon us the other day, we had just had the delight of making a new acquaintance, a Mr. Fitzherbert. He informed us that you two had once been close."
Mr. Haddock's flinch made the remark worth it. The man deserved to be knocked off his prideful pedestal; truly, he deserved more than that for turning his back on dear friends. But, apart from the physical reaction, the gentleman gave no response on the matter and quickly switched the topic.
"At Dreki Vollr, you possessed an interest in books. What has been your favorite?"
"I am certain that we do not have the same interests; we would talk in circles trying to find a common read and struggle to find a commonly enjoyed one."
A frown creased his lips. The movement pulled Jackson's eyes to the man's face—in particular his lips. We noticed a thin scar etched finely on the right side of his chin; he pondered what event led to the possession of such a mark.
"I regret you feel that way. But, at the very least we can compare our differing opinions," suggested as his palm pressed against the one Jackson offered.
The young man felt his heart hitch at the touch. "I'm afraid my mind does not currently possess the ability to discuss such matters. A ball is hardly the place for such scholarly discussion," he breathed out.
Mr. Haddock grunted. "For a man wishing for me to suggest a topic to speak on, you seem quite apt to deny every attempt I make."
"Hmm."
"What?"
"I am trying to discern your character. There are so many parts of you that are contradicting. You puzzle me greatly."
"Perhaps, like a puzzle, you need just one piece for it all to come together and allow you to see the true and full picture."
The music faded away to be replaced by roaring applause. Mr. Haddock's palm still rested against his; it hovered above his skin, trembling. Each second yielded new patches of skin connected.
"I thank you for the dance," the copper haired gentleman breathed out, "and the conversation. It was a pleasure." Without a word further, he snatched his hand away and walked back into the main room, his pace brisk and his hands firmly clasped behind his back.
It was only after he had left that Jackson registered the cool wind biting at the exposed flesh no longer warmed by Haddock's. "Manipulative bastard," Jackson hissed as he clutched his hand and clasped it behind his back before reentering the ballroom.