The Power of the Tongue
When Jolene woke in the morning, she only had one thing in mind—her luncheon with Robert. It would be a turning point for both of them. Of more importance, she wanted to know his opinion of the letter.
Feeling rather famished for breakfast, after having a less than hearty appetite for dinner, Jolene entered the dining room. The morning meal was an informal occasion. Each member of the family came to dine anywhere between seven and nine o’clock. Silver warmers overflowed with bacon, eggs, and various sausages, along with a section of grilled tomatoes and mushrooms. A plentiful stack of toast with butter and marmalade sat on the table.
Jolene filled her plate and sat down with Lady and Lord Whitefield. Grace and Alastair were either late or had already eaten. Lord Whitefield hid behind an open newspaper barely taking notice of her arrival.
“Lady von Lamberg, do you have anything planned for today?” Lady Whitefield asked while buttering another piece of toast.
“Actually, yes. I will be having lunch with Robert…I mean Lord Holland.”
Lord Whitefield lowered his paper and peered over the top. “Alone?”
“Yes, alone. I’ll be fine,” Jolene dismissed his concern. She needed time with Robert and determined to keep others away.
“Do you think that wise?” He gave her a fatherly look, which in Jolene’s opinion had overstepped his boundaries as a host.
“We have formed a friendship, Lord Whitefield, and nothing more. Robert and I have a common interest in horses and other sports.” Jolene was not one to lie, but she had stretched the truth to the breaking point. “I believe he has some questions about the Spanish Riding School in Vienna.” Maybe she should bring up the school as a subject, so what she spoke would not count as a fib.
“I see.” He lifted the newspaper in front of his face.
Glad that interrogation was over, Lady Whitefield interjected with a question.
“What time do you think you will be returning this afternoon?”
“Time?” Jolene thought for a moment. “Well, our lunch is at noon, so I presume no later than two or three o’clock—unless I decide to do some shopping.”
“Excellent,” she responded with a broad smile. “I do hope you will be here at three, because I have invited a few women over for afternoon tea. Grace will be joining us too.”
“Might I ask who?” Jolene braced herself.
“Lady Chambers and her sister-in-law, the duchess, will be joining us.”
Jolene clung to her fork tightly so it would not land in the middle of her soggy eggs. “Well, that sounds pleasant.” Not really, she thought to herself. Obviously, the diary had tainted her opinion regarding Robert’s mother. Still, if she could hold her tongue and reign in her emotions, the three o’clock tea might prove useful.
“Well, I’m happy that you will join us. I know that Lady Chambers is dying to ask you questions about Vienna.” She took a bite of her toast and chewed it slowly. After swallowing, she added another comment.
“She may also put in a good word for her son. Frankly, I think that is why she is coming to tea so that she can rave about his admirable qualities.”
Lord Whitefield lowered his paper and peeked over the top again. “Qualities?”
“Shush,” Lady Whitefield scolded him.
“And why is the duchess coming?” Jolene had to pry about her motives.
“Well, she and her husband are staying with the Chambers until June, along with their son Robert. As you know, they are related, so it’s a family gathering.”
A piece of bacon stuck to the back of Jolene’s throat over that revelation. Quickly she washed it down with a sip of tea. Meals at the Whitefields were turning into informative occasions.
“They don’t have their own townhome here in London?”
“They sold it,” a gruff voice bellowed from behind the paper. “They owned one in Paris as well, which went on the market only a year or two after they wed.”
“Why?” Jolene cringed over her own brash nosiness.
“George, let’s not gossip.” His wife scolded him firmly.
With a huff, he lowered the paper, folded it, and laid it on the corner of the table. “It’s not gossip, woman, it is fact.” He turned to Jolene and spouted off the reasons. “The Hollands are nearly bankrupt since His Grace returned...”
“George!” Lady Whitefield abruptly cut him off. “I told you no gossip,” she growled.
He narrowed his eyes and glared in return. Jolene cringed at the sparks flying between husband and wife. Slowly, his lordship rose to his feet and looked Jolene straight in the eye. It was obvious he wanted to tell her the sordid truth, but instead he played the gentleman and departed.
Jolene’s fork poked at the eggs in the midst of the tense atmosphere that hung in the room. She glanced over at Lady Whitefield, who was red as a beet. “Your husband does not seem too fond of the Chambers or the Hollands.”
“Your assumption is correct. There are things about their pasts that are not readily acceptable in London society. People gossip and keep grudges.” Lady Whitefield sipped her tea and thoughtfully continued. “Christian conduct is often lacking in the inner circles of the wealthy. As the Good Book says, ‘the tongue is an unruly evil with deadly poison.’ My husband has yet to learn that verse, I am afraid.”
“I think it is the same on the Continent, Lady Whitefield. Society is no different in Vienna.”
Jolene finished the remainder of her breakfast in quiet contemplation. Her activities for the day consisted of the Holland family, and it would undoubtedly be a challenge.
* * * *
Branson announced the arrival of Robert, and Jolene smiled in relief that he had kept his promise for lunch. She secured her hat on her upswept hairdo and buttoned the jacket of her tailored, beige walking suit. With her diary in one hand and purse in the other, she descended the stairs to see Robert waiting for her at the door. The moment their eyes met, her heart jumped. He believed, or at least she thought he did by the expression on his face.
“Lady von Lamberg, you look nice today,” he politely said.
She kept the pleasantries in front of the staff to a minimum. “Thank you, Lord Holland.” She smiled demurely as they exited the house. Robert had arrived in a hansom cab, and Jolene was a bit disappointed it was not a motorcar. Nevertheless, if it were true that the Hollands were in financial difficulty she understood.
After they climbed in and started down the street, Robert announced where they were going. “I thought I’d take you to a small, local pub,” he said. “I think it will provide us more privacy.” He nodded at the diary in Jolene’s hand. “I see you’ve brought the history book.”
“And I’m anxious to show it to you, Robert.”
Robert remained pensive for a few moments and then confessed. “There are so many questions I want to ask that I don’t know where to begin.”
Surprised to hear the nervousness in his voice, Jolene glanced at him. Frankly, she felt the same way.
After a short ride, they exited the cab and Robert escorted Jolene into a pub. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dark surroundings. Rather than bustling with patrons, only a few people sat spread out at various tables. Robert chose one tucked away from the main aisle. They ordered their lunch and drinks, and then sat awkwardly staring at each other. Finally, Robert pulled the letter from his inside coat pocket and slid it across the table at Jolene.
“I read it.”
“And what did you think?” Jolene held her breath.
“From what I’ve been told, the events did occur in that fashion. What is your book about? May I see it again?”
Jolene handed it to him, and he eagerly took it from her hand. He flipped from page to page scrunching his brow.
“Yesterday, when you found me at the coffee shop, I had just returned from the address on the back of the letter.”
“Really? Did you confront the lady’s maid about the letter?” A tone of anger came from his voice.
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, that helps,” he said. His shoulders slumped.
“Her sister answered the door and gave me the diary. She read it and believed everything to be true.”
Robert shook his head. “I don’t have the patience to read all this scribbling from the pen of an emotional woman,” he complained. “How far have you read?”
“Enough to aggravate me,” she confessed.
“Why?”
“You must understand that your father’s first wife, Jacquelyn, was the only mother I’ve known. Dorcas goes into much detail about her heartaches with your father and her inability to bear him a child.”
Robert closed the diary as if he didn’t want to know what it said and shoved it back across the table.
“Your mother...” Jolene’s words trailed off fearing to speak ill of her in front of Robert.
“My mother was his mistress, and I was conceived a bastard.”
The expression on his face grieved Jolene. She had not previously thought of his own feelings about his heritage and past. All the secrets revealed were peeling back layers of hurt and pain.
“I’ve known for some time,” he added with annoyance.
Jolene wanted to object to his identification as a bastard, when he had received full rights and title from his father.
Their order was delivered, and thankfully, their thoughts had been momentarily diverted to food and drink. They ate and chatted about everything else but lay aside the other.
“Geoffrey is taking me on a tour of the city, Robert. It has been suggested by the Whitefields, that for the sake of appearance, that you and Grace accompany the two of us.”
Robert smirked over her announcement and shook his head. “I suppose if you are my half sister, I am obligated to protect you from lecherous men.”
“Protect me from Geoffrey, you mean?”
“It’s true that I cannot damn his roguish character when I am no better myself,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “If it were any other woman, I would not care.” He leaned forward and looked seriously into her eyes. “Seeing that it involves you, I do care.”
Jolene brought her hand to her chest in a swooning gesture. “Oh, now you’re going to make me cry, brother.”
He raised his eyebrows over her antics. As their eyes met, they looked at each other as if they realized their connection. Robert finished his sandwich and set his plate aside.
“Now, it’s your turn,” he said with a warm smile. “What the hell happened to you when Jacquelyn kidnapped you?”
Jolene mulled over her answer. Frankly, Jacquelyn had played the ruse quite well. How could she separate the admiration for her from the criminality of it all?
“My mother...” Jolene stopped again and squeezed her eyes together because she could not let go of the association. She began again. “Jacquelyn fled to Austria. She met my stepfather within the first year of her arrival. They married soon after they met, but she died when I was three.”
“What happened to her?”
“She became pregnant and had complications before the birth.”
“You have got to be kidding me?” Robert thrust his hand through his hair in astonishment. “You mean she actually became pregnant after all that time?”
Jolene nodded.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Father will shit when he hears that news.”
If she could have raised her brow any higher in disapproval over his language, Jolene would have. Another character note, she mused, cannot stop swearing in front of the ladies. Noticing her disapproving scowl, he quickly apologized.
“God, I’m sorry,” he said grimacing. “My language…”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but her words were lighthearted. “So I hear.”
“Then what happened?” Robert leaned forward.
“My stepfather legally adopted me. When he passed away a few months ago, I inherited the title and all of his estate.” Jolene hesitated to tell Robert the full terms of the disbursement.
“Well, regardless of the circumstances, I’m happy that your life has been blessed,” he replied.
“I’m thankful, too, but I have a confession.”
“What’s that?”
“That I’ve always had this sense of not belonging. Though my stepfather was a kind and gracious man, I’ve been haunted as long as I can remember about my heritage.” Jolene sighed wondering if Robert could understand. “Jacquelyn always told the story that my real father had died in a tragic accident. Frankly, after she died, in my own mind I was nothing more than an orphan.”
A sympathetic gaze met Jolene’s eyes. “If you want to know anything about your real father, I can tell you what I know and remember. He saved my mother’s disgrace and raised me in love until...”
Robert looked at her in the strangest way. He lowered his eyes, shook his head, and then chuckled. “Until I shoved over your bassinet in a fit of jealousy when you were three months old.”
The laughter that spilled out of Jolene’s mouth filled the small pub. Every person’s head turned in their direction. Embarrassed, she brought her hand to her mouth and held it there until she could control herself. Robert’s eyes twinkled in response.
“Grace was right. You are a rascal,” she said, still chuckling under her breath.
Neither of them could stop laughing over the funny story. It felt as if they had found an oasis of relief from their painful conversation. Jolene’s affection for Robert welled in her heart. She saw the same sentiments in his eyes.
“So did you get a whipping?” Jolene figured as much.
Robert put his hand on his backside in jest. “God yes, I can still feel the belt on my behind.”
After a few moments of smiling at one another, Jolene turned her thoughts to Philippe. She did want to know about him. In fact, her heart yearned to know more than she cared to know of Suzette.
“I plan to go to Paris after the season ends and search for him, Robert.”
“That’s probably wise. Frankly, I hope he is still alive so that he can finally see you again. Mother carries a lot of guilt over how your loss nearly destroyed him.”
Suzette again. Would she ever think kindly of her?
“Come with me.” The words flew out of her mouth. Robert sat straight up in his chair over the invitation. “I mean it, Robert. I’ll pay for everything, just come.”
“Are you sure that you want me to accompany you?” He reached over and touched her hand lightly.
A broad smile spread across Jolene’s face, and a burden that had pressed upon her heart felt lighter. “Very sure,” she replied.
They spent the next half an hour chatting. Robert told her what he remembered about Philippe and how he had married their mother to save her reputation. When he came to the duel, Jolene gasped. She had not yet come that far in Dorcas’ diary to read anything about a duel, which she omitted from her letter.
“Oh, my God, Philippe tried to kill your father?”
Robert shook his head as if he could not believe it himself. “Yes, father shot him in the shoulder after Philippe missed.”
“Unbelievable.” Jolene was awestruck over the tale of revenge. She chuckled. “Who would believe such a mess?”
Robert’s countenance changed. His voice softened. “I’m glad you have found us after all these years. If it were not for that deathbed confession, we would have never learned of your fate.”
“I think fate has returned me for a reason.”
“What are your plans to tell my parents? Do you wish me to say anything?”
“No, please say nothing. If all works out, I want to bring all of them together—your father, mother, and Philippe and then tell them at once.”
“My goodness,” Robert said in astonishment, leaning back in his chair. “You have thoughtfully planned this out, haven’t you?”
Jolene shook her head. “Yes, but that depends upon whether I can find Philippe. Hopefully, he is still alive.”
Robert thought for a moment. “You know, my father may have kept track of his whereabouts. Let me see if he knows anything.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she exclaimed. Jolene glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear, I’m supposed to be back at the Whitefields at three o’clock. I’m having tea with your aunt and mother.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from that affair,” he smirked. Robert rose from his seat and helped Jolene from her chair.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that Grace will be contacting you about coming with us to the Tower of London tomorrow.” Jolene took his arm as he led her out the door. “Do be kind to the girl, won’t you?”
Robert cocked his head to the right as if he misheard her comment. Jolene merely smiled, hoping that perhaps one day he would notice sweet Grace.