True Story (The Deverells, Book One) (9 page)

But then Olivia met boisterous and
lusty Captain Frederick Ollerenshaw, who accidentally stumbled into
her at a ball and lost half the contents of his stomach on her
gown. Her sensible, helpful composure in these circumstances won
fun-loving Freddy's blurry-eyed gratitude, and she impulsively
seized the chance of making herself indispensable to someone
new.

Her father was markedly relieved he'd
found someone to take her off his hands, and although he did not
much care for the Captain, when Olivia convinced him she'd be happy
he did not stand in her way.

"Are you in the position to provide
for a wife, yet?" her father had inquired of Freddy— a fellow
notorious for more open-hearted generosity than acumen. "How will
you support my daughter?"

"With a little light pressure under
the elbow while crossing the street, I suppose," replied Freddy,
punctuating his answer with a genial gust of laughter.

For the few days of their marriage,
Freddy was very enjoyable company, wonderfully uplifting for a
girl's spirits. Unfortunately, Freddy was also uplifting to many
other young ladies’ spirits too. That was the trouble with
attractive, merry gentlemen like Captain Ollerenshaw. They never
could stop being so generous with their merriment.

When Freddy was killed, while
foolishly racing an unstable phaeton for a wager of fifty pounds,
Christopher immediately sprung up at her side to say, "Perhaps you
have got that out of your veins now, Livy, and you see the error of
an impulsive choice."

But she missed Freddy, despite his
faults and the little time they'd had together. At night it was
very hard to go to one's bed alone after enjoying the pleasures to
which he'd introduced her. Admitting this to her stepbrother, of
course, was out of the question.

Next came her engagement to Arthur
Pemberton, an earnest young man whose palms were always damp with
sweat and who never seemed capable of looking her in the eye. It
was a shock to Olivia that he ever got around to proposing, but
somehow he did. She thought this marriage would at least last
longer than a few days and that her husband's anxious, timid eye
would not feel compelled to follow every pretty girl that
passed.

Sadly, Arthur's nervous disposition
prevented him from making it to the altar. He left his aging
bachelor uncle, Sir Allardyce Pemberton, to make his apologies on
the very day of the intended nuptials, and before the flowers could
droop, Olivia was married to Allardyce instead. Looking back on her
mood that day she realized her temper and pride had got the better
of her. She could not bear to go home defeated again, to hear once
more Christopher's snide remarks. Rather than let herself be
gossiped about as a woman humiliated and jilted at the altar, and
feeling rather mutinous that day, she'd rashly accepted another
offer. After all, the last thing she wanted was anybody's
pity.

Christopher had sneered, "If you're
going to make a habit of this, you should at least marry for money.
Old Allardyce hasn't a bean, you know."

"There is more to life than money,"
she'd replied, at which her stepbrother shook his head, lips grimly
pursed.

Within six months she was widowed
again, when Allardyce choked on a fishbone in his pie at the local
tavern.

Now a woman considered unlucky and, as
Christopher said, "used goods", she might have sunk under a lace
cap and retired into a corner. Fortunately, however, William
Monday, the reserved, contemplative parson who often came to Sunday
dinner at her father's house, saved Olivia from this dolorous end
by quietly stepping in and proposing a marriage
arrangement.

"She's doing it again," Christopher
complained loudly. "Someone ought to stop her."

But this union was different. There
was no physical attraction, as there had been with Freddy, and
there was no pride to be saved, as in the case of her marriage to
Allardyce. William Monday was a steady man, extremely frugal and
patient, keen to help her find a purpose in life. His good example
would help cleanse Olivia of those wicked impulses that did her
absolutely no good in the past.

If she served William with humility
and became a good wife, she thought, it might break this string of
bad fortune. So, as William Monday's companion, she managed the
small, damp parsonage, visited his parishioners, darned his bed
socks and made his tea. That marriage also allowed her to stay
close enough to her father that she could still help him with his
work as needed. It was a comfortable solution.

But only for a little less than five
years.

Now both her papa and William were
gone and it was time to take a step into the unknown. If she stayed
in Chiswick there appeared to be only one choice and she could not
bear it.

"As soon as Lucinda and I
are settled," Christopher had said to her, "you can have a room in
my house. We'll find somewhere to put you, and Lucinda will need
assistance with our children as they come along. You will be of
great help to her.
Old Aunt Livy
our children shall call you. They'll keep you so
busy that you'll never miss not having any of your own."

My house.
Ha! Christopher lived in the house that her
father had left to them both equally, but despite William's advice
Olivia had not asked her stepbrother to buy her out. It felt too
awkward and unnecessary. She knew that if Christopher ever sold the
house, then she would get her half of the profits. There was no
hurry yet, was there? She really did not think he would cheat her
out of her share, whatever William had said.

But when it came to the idea of living
there as unofficial nanny to her stepbrother's anticipated
offspring...that was a prospect too dire to be considered. Instead,
she had grasped at the first alternative to come her
way.

Working for the notorious True
Deverell would provide her with enough funds that relying on
relatives— or finding another husband— for a roof over her head
would not be necessary. No, she would not become another Great Aunt
Jane, taken in by family out of pity but never really welcomed, and
always causing her hosts to roll their eyes behind her
back.

Deverell's generosity would be her way
out of all that, and he could certainly spare a few coins. He was
the richest self-made man in England, so rumor had it. She'd read
that he once won a hundred thousand pounds in a single, twenty
four-hour game of hazard.

One hundred thousand
pounds.

The possession of so much money must
lead a person into all manner of mischief, so it was a jolly good
thing it would never be hers to worry about. Olivia certainly
didn't need any more temptation.

She'd heard a rumor that her employer
was American, although she had detected no accent of any
kind.

At last, after all these years of
speculation, she knew what he looked like.

A wolf. A steely-eyed wild beast. With
manners and scruples to match.

Olivia wrapped her shawl tighter
around her body and gave dear William's picture a hasty nod and a
smile. With his reassuring presence looking over her from the
mantle she felt better already. Even the stifling curls of fog
against her window did not bother her unduly now. So what if she
could not go walking outside? Adventurous walks over rocky terrain
were not very ladylike in any case. As William would remind her,
such rambles—whenever she'd indulged in one without due caution—
made her hair become unruly and brought too much livid color to her
cheeks, as well as a disturbing spark to her eyes, something
perilously close to suggesting an utter lapse of decorum was at
hand.

"It is no surprise your boots are in
disrepair, my dear," he would say.

Dear William was quite right, of
course. She must make certain the rest of her did not end up in the
same state as her boots. Thanks to him, she was no longer the Girl
Who Ate The Last Cake. She was composed, efficient, held her temper
— under some very trying circumstances of late—and had impeccable
manners.

Most importantly, she had finally
learned to keep her thoughts and feelings on the inside, safely
hidden.

True Deverell's wicked ways would not
lure them out of her.

Chapter Seven

"But my brother Justify was allowed to
join the Naval Academy when he was only fourteen. Nobody stopped
him when he went off to Portsmouth. I am two years older than that
now and what have I done with my life, but slave over books and
listen to dreary lectures?"

"Justify never possessed your capacity
for study. The Navy was a good choice for him, and he has done well
with it. Your talents are different. I do not see the Navy in your
future, Damon."

The young man would not sit still but
got up again and paced around the chair. Watching his son, True
thought how time flew. It seemed like only yesterday when Damon, at
two years of age, sat on his knee and sobbed over the death of his
mama.

Never one to keep his children in the
dark when it came to life's ups and downs, True had told both Damon
and his elder brother of their mother's passing as soon as it
happened. He did not use flowery words, but told them straight and
then all he could do was offer his arms while they cried.
Mercifully her illness was short and she had not suffered too much.
True saw to it that his mistress had the best doctor and medicines
available. Right to the end, he'd stayed by her sickbed, despite
the animosity it caused with his wife.

"We did everything we could for your
mama," he'd told the two boys, "but it was her time to go. As it is
time for us all eventually."

"Has she gone to heaven, papa?"
Justify, then three years old, had said.

That was the only time he lied to
them, for he did not know if he believed in heaven and hell, but
what did one say to boys so young? The responsibility of children
had taught him that one could not always say the first thing that
came to mind. So he replied, "Yes. Your mama has gone to
heaven."

"Then we'll see her again."

"As long as you behave. There are good
odds that you will."

The idea of heaven had its uses, of
course. It had served as a warning and a threat for thousands of
years, so why shouldn't he use it too?

Unfortunately, all True's sons were
too old for that now. They were not fearful of much with which he
could threaten them.

Damon had just arrived at his most
rebellious stage, questioning everything about life and his place
in it. Having been through this already with three elder boys and a
daughter— who was, in many ways, a greater challenge than his sons—
True was not terribly troubled. All children, so he'd learned,
tried their boundaries occasionally, even the quiet ones. Even
those who used to sit on his knee and cling to him with sticky
fingers as if he was their savior.

"Perhaps I'll go without your
permission," Damon exclaimed, jaw pushed out, eyes fierce, those
once sticky fingers tapping the chair back upon which they hovered
with all the flighty tension of sparrow’s feet. "I could. I could
do that."

But he knew his son was too clever to
make such an impulsive mistake. Damon would think it through and
this idea of the Navy would pass. Aware that the quickest way to
get his stubborn son to that point of reason was to let him find
his own way to it, he said, "Of course you could. You must do as
you see fit and suffer the outcome later, as we all do when we make
mistakes. Maturity is not only about being free to make your own
choices, but to face the consequences too. No one else can face
them for you, so they should not make the decisions for you
either."

His son's frown deepened. He had
wanted a fight, no doubt. "Then, if I refuse to go back to school,
you'll do nothing?"

"What would you like me to do, Damon?
Should I wrestle you to the ground, bind you in ropes and keep you
in the attic until this fancy passes?" He smiled, hoping to hide
his impatience with this conversation. "Then you can blame me. Then
you have another excuse to be angry at me. If you'd like that, it
can be arranged. I believe there is room up there among all the
other lost souls in rattling chains, held prisoner by my foul
temper. Or else you'll just have to make your own decision and then
have only yourself to blame for how it all turns out."

His son's eyes narrowed, his jaw
jutted out.

"If I were you," True
added, "I'd return to Eton and finish my education." His son had no
idea how much he would have given for such an opportunity himself
as a boy, but everything
he
learned was self-taught. Well, almost everything.
Alas, while he wanted all these chances for his offspring, they did
not appreciate it. "In another year, if you are still averse to
Oxford or Cambridge—"

"I shall be."

"Then we'll address the possibilities
at that time. I ask simply that you think a little longer on the
matter. But, naturally, that is only what I would wish for you to
do. As you keep pointing out, you are old enough to choose for
yourself. I must stand aside."

It was clear that Justify's successful
advance through the naval ranks had caused this jolt to his younger
brother's prideful spirit. True's children all had that urge to be
noticed, to distinguish themselves in some way from the
pack.