Page 17 of The Play’s the Thing (The Cricket Club #2)

“W hat do you mean, she’s in your cottage? What blasted cottage?”

Jacob winced. The drawing room felt impossibly small that morning as he stood across from Sir John. He’d taken the poor man from his breakfast so they might speak alone about the delicate matter. Jacob had never had to meet with a lady’s father before, and he certainly never had to inform one that his daughter was still tucked away in his bed. Sir John was actually taking it better than Jacob had imagined. He’d imagined a fist to the jaw.

“On the grounds, near the pagoda.”

Sir John’s eyebrows rose comically high. “Pagoda? What pagoda?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jacob replied. “It’s not far. I found her crying last night. She said she didn’t want to go back to the house.”

“And you just thought you would take her to your cottage, then?” Sir John’s comment was laced with innuendo, and it took a monumental amount of Jacob’s strength to continue to meet the man in the eye. Faltering would only make him appear more guilty.

Jacob locked his hands behind his back, raising his chin. “I have to admit, sir,” he said, “I didn’t know what else to do. When your daughter makes up her mind, it can be difficult to change it.”

Sir John’s face was mottled; his shoulders inched closer to his ears. The man was on the verge, but of what, Jacob wasn’t sure. Probably of killing him. Jacob hoped to hell that he never had a daughter. They seemed like a hell of a lot of worry.

He watched Sir John screw up his lips. They twitched back and forth, as if he were contemplating whether to let out any words before he beat Jacob to within an inch of his life. Jacob would have to let him. On the one hand, Sir John was his guest, and one must always be hospitable, but also… it wasn’t as if Jacob was completely innocent. Anna had reached for him that morning, but his protestations had been halfhearted at best.

“I…” Sir John stepped to Jacob, who immediately took a step back. “You…” The man’s face was as red as a poppy and quickly morphing to crimson.

Coward that he was, Jacob closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to come.

But as seconds passed and he remained standing, he reluctantly cracked one open. Sir John hadn’t moved. He was still in that spot, the color slowly draining from his face. The older man stretched his fingers out at his sides—no more hint of a fist.

He exhaled. “You’re right,” he said. Jacob wouldn’t normally describe the man as jovial; however, all the confrontation had simply vanished. “Anna has always had a mind of her own,” Sir John went on. “If she didn’t want to come back to the house, then there was nothing you could do to make her.”

Jacob shrugged. A feeling of guilt nagged at him for getting off this easily. “I could have thrown her over my shoulder and dumped her in her room.”

Sir John chuckled through a grimace. “I’m glad you didn’t try. Something tells me that wouldn’t have gone over well… for any of us.”

Jacob tried to laugh, but nothing came out. The oddness of this exchange continued to hit him. Sir John had been a guest at Newton Place for the last few weeks, and this was the longest they’d ever spoken to one another. He was amazed at how natural it was. Then again, the baronet was an easygoing man, always ready with a smile and a placid remark. Jacob had thought him bland at first, though he wondered now if it was something different.

Sir John ran a hand over his face, brushing his light auburn hair off his brow. His gaze darted around the room. “You wouldn’t by any chance have anything to drink in here, would you? Something befitting this type of information?”

Finally, something akin to a laugh escaped Jacob. He gave the older man an understanding look while he walked to the bureau and opened its doors, then brought out a crystal decanter of gin along with two glasses. He filled them to the brim and handed one to Sir John, who accepted the gin, raised it in thanks, and then tossed it back, swallowing all the contents in one go.

Jacob did the same. It stung going down like a hive of demented bumblebees had been unleashed inside him. He desperately needed to cough, but Anna’s father was taking it like a man, and so he’d be damned if he couldn’t as well. Sir John returned the glass, nodding that he’d need another. That meant Jacob would have to have another as well.

He filled the glass again—halfway this time—and handed it over. “She doesn’t want to come back to the house today, either,” he said.

Sir John’s mouth pursed before he, once more, raised the glass in salute and tipped it back. Scrunching his nose, Jacob did the same. He never would have believed that Sir John could drink this well. On the other hand, perhaps having a daughter like Anna made the alcohol go down easier.

Sir John smacked his wet and rosy lips. He admired his empty glass. “This is proper good,” he said absent-mindedly. “Ah, yes… Anna.” He cocked his head at Jacob. “You said she told you she was tired?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But not ill?”

Jacob shook his head. “I don’t think so. She just kept repeating that she needed to sleep.”

Sir John sighed. He put his glass down on top of the bureau and began to meander around the room. Jacob was relieved. He wouldn’t have been able to keep up with Sir John if the man wished to continue drinking. Ordinarily, Jacob could hold his own… but not before lunch.

“Damnit, I knew this would happen,” Sir John said under his breath, and Jacob wasn’t sure if it was intended for him. He remained silent.

“That boy has always caused trouble wherever he goes,” Sir John eventually continued. Jacob had no doubt who “that boy” was. Phillip was the kind of man who would always be a boy, always putting his wants and needs in front of others.

Jacob studied Sir John as he moved around the furniture, picking up knickknacks and bric-a-brac and placing them down again. “I could tell Phillip to leave,” Jacob offered. “I never wanted him here in the first place.”

Sir John stopped perusing long enough to offer him a pitying smile. “Anna would never want that. It would embarrass and alert David that something is wrong.”

“You mean to tell me that David doesn’t know about their… their…” Jacob didn’t know what to call it, because he didn’t even know all the details of Anna and Phillip’s affair. But Sir John did. From the pain in his expression, the father knew all too well.

Sir John shook his head. “David doesn’t know all of it. Anna didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want to ruin their friendship. You see, David and Phillip have been the best of friends since they were children. Just as I was with Phillip’s father. I’ve known that boy since he was in the nursery. Loved him as if he were my own. I knew what he was— who he was—but I never imagined that he would treat my family this way.”

Every muscle in Jacob’s body seized. He wanted to yell at the man, ask him what Phillip had done, but it wasn’t his place. He would have to wait until Anna trusted him. It was her story to tell.

Sir John began to meander again, and Jacob understood what he was doing. It was something they had in common. Jacob liked to move his body when he was lost in thought as well. It helped his mind work more smoothly. “She’s tired,” Sir John said, craning his neck to stare at the embossed roses on the ceiling. “She was tired before when this happened… after he left… after she was ill. It lasted too long.”

After he left ? Something tugged at the reaches of Jacob’s mind. “Sir John, did Anna become ill because Phillip left her? Was he the reason for the fever?” Jacob had never put the two occurrences together before. He’d merely assumed that Anna had suffered from a fever like so many others.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe Sir John was too lost in his thoughts to consider diplomacy, but the expression he threw at Jacob told him all that he needed to know.

After a pause, Sir John said, “My daughter is strong. But if she needs to sleep, then the best thing we can do is let her sleep. We will tell the servants not to say anything about her whereabouts, and we will inform everyone that she is under the weather. That is all.”

Decision made, he moved to leave the room. There was no more to be said.

And yet Jacob couldn’t stay quiet.

“So, you trust me,” he blurted, just as Sir John was about to open the door. Anna’s father turned back and looked at him quizzically. Jacob went on, “You trust me to have her in my cottage. You believe me when I said that my intentions are honorable?”

Never in Jacob’s life had he ever asked a man if he thought his intentions were honorable. Jacob knew his heart, and he’d never cared to know what others thought. However, with Sir John, this was important—vitally so.

Sir John stared at him for an interminable length of time. Again, his mouth twisted, and Jacob could only wonder at what he wanted to say versus what he would allow himself. The irony wasn’t lost on him. The man that he hadn’t trusted—the man that he’d belittled and questioned ever since he’d invited him to his home—was now going to cast judgment on his intentions.

It would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.

Finally, Sir John put Jacob out of his misery. “Of course I trust you,” he said. “I wouldn’t leave my daughter in your care if I didn’t.”

And then he left. The answer had been thrown out so easily, so naturally.

Jacob only had one thing left to think.

Sir John wasn’t bland. He was many things, but he wasn’t that.

*

Anna felt her father’s eyes on her as she shuffled about the cottage. After Jacob had left her that morning, she’d found a broom in the corner and swept the floor then tidied the bed. Now she was boiling water for tea.

She needed to stay busy. If she stopped, her rambling thoughts would take over. Worse yet, she would be forced to meet her father’s gaze. And she really didn’t want to do that.

“You do know this is… awkward… don’t you, dearest?” Sir John asked as she handed him his tea. He sat on the only chair behind the desk, while Anna took a seat on the bed. The way his eyebrows bunched when she situated herself told her that he would have preferred her to sit anywhere else. Sir John trusted his daughter—she had no doubt of that—but the bed was awfully small. She could see the wheels turning in his head—he was wondering where Jacob slept last night, hoping that it was not with her.

Sir John placed his teacup on the table. He was polite, but he hadn’t come to the cottage for pleasantries. “How long do you think you’ll stay?”

“I’m not sure,” Anna said truthfully. There was no reason to lie to her father. “I don’t… I don’t want to see him.”

“I know you don’t, dear girl. I know.” Sir John’s voice was pathetically forlorn—defeated. It hurt Anna even more knowing that he would have given anything to take away her pain, but he couldn’t. There was nothing anyone could do. “I told you to be careful.”

“I was careful. I thought… I didn’t expect anything… I didn’t even want anything… but when he said he needed to talk to me, I thought…” Anna shook her head. “Well, I don’t know what I thought.”

Sir John nodded. “People are always different in our memories… better, most times.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the letter.”

Anna stared down in her lap. “You should have.”

“I know.”

“But I understand why you didn’t.”

Sir John placed his elbows on the desk, holding his head in his hands. “I wanted to give Phillip a chance to redeem himself, show me the man he could be.”

Anna couldn’t fault her father. Hadn’t she just done the same thing? Phillip had failed them both.

She got up from the bed and went to her father, wrapping her arms around his neck. Sir John fell into her embrace, holding her forearms with trembling fingers. “I love you, Father.”

“I love you too, my girl. So much. I love all of my children so much.” He twisted out of her hold so he could look at her. His eyes were wide with fear. “This isn’t like before, is it?” he asked. “Please tell me this isn’t like before.”

Anna’s heart clenched. “No, Father, I promise. I’m not ill. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“That’s how it started before.”

No, it hadn’t.

Anna had fallen pregnant without knowing it and developed a fever after she’d miscarried. The malaise and despair took root in her body after the fever had lifted. The depression had been infinitely more difficult to recover from.

Anna brushed Sir John’s bushy hair off his face. Suddenly, she felt like she was the parent, reassuring the child that she would always be there for it. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I promise. I just need a break from it all.”

Her father nodded, feathering a hand over his misty, worried eyes. “I understand. Mrs. Wright will as well; however…” His voice trailed off as he glanced around the cottage. “You could have taken the break inside your room. It’s spacious enough. Did you have to choose this place… choose him ?”

Anna’s spine stiffened. She tried to pull away, but her father wouldn’t release her waist. “You don’t like him?”

Her father laughed. “I didn’t at first. To be honest, the stubborn boy never gave me a chance to. Now, I might be changing my tune.”

Anna was surprised by how happy that made her. “I haven’t chosen anyone,” she said in a defensive tone. “Jacob is my friend.”

Sir John’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t know if he sees it that way.”

“There’s no other way to see it,” she replied. Her voice dropped. “You know what I have to offer.”

Sir John pulled her into a ribcage-busting hug once more, a sob bubbling from him before he could hide his face. “Oh, my dear girl. You have everything to offer. If only you would believe it.”