Page 4 of When Jess Wainwright’s Curiosity Was Satisfied (Wainwright Sisters #4)

Chapter Four

“ M iss Wainwright paid a visit?” Caris asked as she came to stand beside him. They watched from the doorway as Jess Wainwright walked down the lane. Her chin was thrust forward and her arms were swinging back and forth so vigorously she could row a boat. Even with her voluminous cape constricting her stride, her aggravation was evident. The knowledge he had provoked her to such levels of agitation made Cadoc smile.

“Yes.” He curtly said, irritated by the interruption. Because he wanted to keep his gaze fixed on her until she was nothing more than a speck in the distance. Because he could still feel the fleeting texture of her skin against his palm. Because he wanted to hold onto the glimpse of fire he’d seen in her eyes before she ruthlessly banked it.

“She left without popping in to say hello to Davy and Ella?”

If he turned, he knew her eyes would be narrowed in concentration. And as soon as she saw his expression she’d be able to tell how fascinated he was with their guest. He let the silence build until the object of his fascination disappeared over the rise.

“She wasn’t here to speak with Davy and Ella. She was here to speak with me.”

Caris chuckled. “I know how you are, big brother. If a lass acts like she wants nothing to do with you, it makes you chase her all the harder. Her departure wasn’t exactly swanning about. She seemed angry. Have you been meddling in her life, as you’re wont to do when you want something or someone?”

“She thinks I’m a bounder and an ingrate,” he sighed. “I’m not chasing her. I’m letting her come to me. I have something she wants.”

“Mam always said you were devilish when you wanted something. So attuned to your purpose you’re oblivious to the havoc you wreak or the destruction you leave in your wake. Your arrogance will bite you in the arse, some day. Your reach always extended beyond your need. Take care your selfishness isn’t going to destroy everything she’s built.” She wagged her finger at him.

“I know what I’m doing, little sister. And she does too.”

“You always say that and I’ve yet to believe you. I know you have Old Scratch’s own luck and his strategy.”

“Old Scratch was tossed out of heaven on his arse, little sister. If that’s the kind of luck you think I have, it doesn’t bode well for me. And strategy is only a matter of taking advantage of inherent weakness.”

She lightly punched him in the shoulder. “I meant Satan’s penchant for tricking unsuspecting people into doing his bidding. You’ve always had a way with words, Cadoc, and been able to convince others to do things they seemed dead set against.”

“I think Miss Wainwright is made of sterner stuff. She’ll stick to her ideals as long as she can.”

Caris shook her head in bemusement. “I don’t know what you have planned for her, or what sort of devil’s bargain you’ve made, but it’s not like you to become tangled up with a woman like this.” She reached forward to pinch his forearm. “She has a respected place in this community and she’s managed to persuade your niece and nephew to finish their lessons. Don’t do something that makes me ashamed to be your sister.”

He lifted her fingers one by one. “Surely you think better of me than that.”

“I do. But I also know how arrogant you can be and how much you like to win. No matter what game you’re playing.”

“It’s not arrogance. It’s recognition that sometimes my mind works faster than everyone else’s. She’s the only woman I’ve met in more than a decade who isn’t intimidated by that. And who meets me head-on.”

“I understand why that would beguile you, because you’re not accustomed to it. But you can’t destroy her reputation, Cadoc.”

“I won’t,” he growled in frustration. Because he wouldn’t. If Miss Wainwright agreed to the wager, he knew she’d be doing it despite her instinct for self-preservation. Because she’d felt the flutter of the thing between them this afternoon as surely as he had. Even if she refused to acknowledge its existence. That was why he didn’t believe his actions were reprehensible. “No matter what happens, Caris, I’ll watch out for her well-being.”

She gave him a sharp nod. “Make sure that you do.”

Cadoc was eager to change the subject. The more he dwelt on Jessamine Wainwright, the more he was distracted. “Have you conveyed the news to Davy and Ella yet?”

“I haven’t. I thought we could break it to them together over supper tonight. I’ve made their favorite - rabbit stew and dumplings.”

Cadoc grimaced. He would never tell his sister, but somehow the thought of consuming something that had once been frolicking through the meadow in all its fluffy glory, turned his appetite. “Yes, we’ll tell them together.”

When Davy and Ella were halfway through their second bowls, Cadoc decided it was as good a time as any to let them know about their mother’s decision. He cleared his throat. Perhaps the best way to share the news was quickly. “Davy and Ella,” he began in a brusque tone. “Yout Aunt Caris and I recently received a letter from your mother.”

Davy frowned and laid his spoon on the table. “She never writes to us,” he complained.

Ella looked down into her bowl, her expression unreadable. “I don’t think she remembers us, Davy,” she quietly said.

“I don’t think that’s true, children,” Caris reassured them.

“Then why hasn’t she sent for us?”

Cadoc understood his nephew’s belligerence. It stemmed from his hurt and feelings of abandonment. The lad had been nine when Gwyn had left with her husband. Old enough to understand his parents were leaving him behind because they thought he would be a burden.

“She and your father haven’t been able to provide you with a stable home. She knew if you stayed with us you’d be taken care of.”

“But we miss them,” Ella wailed.

“We know you do, poppet,” Caris laid a hand on her hair to soothe her.

“So what was the letter about? Do they finally want us to come live with them?”

Cadoc steepled his hands together in front of him and leaned forward. “Not precisely.”

Davy’s face darkened. “She doesn’t want us anymore.”

The boy was correct in principle. “Your parents are making their way to the Yukon Territory. It is an inhospitable landscape and they think you’ll be better off remaining here with your aunt and I.”

“So I was right,” Davy grumbled into his soup.

“She believes she’s making the best decision for your future. You have the opportunity for an education and more hopeful prospects here.”

“What about me? Very few girls are permitted to attend university. Miss Wainwright says she doesn’t think that will change until we have the right to vote.”

“Miss Wainwright is correct. But you’ve shown promise in your studies, Ella, and you have a lively mind. Do you want to go to university?” Cadoc would use his money and influence to grease the wheels if Ella wanted to pursue her studies.

Ella primly clasped her hands in her lap and lifted her chin. “I think I should like to.”

“Then we shall do all we can to ensure you can,” Caris said in a brisk tone.

“Will the two of you be alright?” Davy had a thunderous look on his face and was still staring into his bowl.

“I didn’t want to go anyway. America’s full of nothing but bears.”

The boy’s hurt was seeping into his words. Cadoc stood and rounded the table so he could lay a hand on his shoulder. “It’s perfectly normal to feel the way you’re feeling, lad. I know you were excited about the journey across the ocean. And perhaps awed at the prospect of seeing actual cowboys. When your parents are settled in one place, your aunt and I will take you to visit them.”

“Promise?” Davy hoarsely asked.

“I promise. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you see them again.”

“Thank you, Uncle Cadoc.” Ella said in an unnaturally high voice. As if she was holding back the tears as well.

After he and Caris had put them to bed, they met in the library. He poured them both a robust splash of whisky and leaned back in the chair before the fire. He held his glass out. “A toast to that chore being over.”

She clinked her glass to his and leaned back in the opposite chair. “They took the news much better than I thought they would,” she said.

Cadoc frowned into his glass before he tossed it back. “I don’t like seeing them hurt like that.”

“Neither do I, brother. But surely you realize it’s for the best. They have far more resources at their disposal and more opportunities that are theirs for the taking.”

“Do you think Mam would be appalled at the way we’ve all grown apart? She did everything she could to keep us together after Da died. That’s why she went into the pit.”

Caris took a hearty sip and thumped her head against the back of her chair. “I think she’d be disappointed that we didn’t convince Gwyn to stay. I think she’d be sad that Helen and Mary went to India and that Mary died there. I think she’d be sorry Ellen married a miner.”

“Do you think we’d be any different as a family if she and Griffin were here with us?”

“Ahh, brother. Whisky always makes you introspective.”

“That’s not true. Are you going to answer me or not?” Whisky always seemed to diminish the gap between now and then, and made him look at the choices he’d made with a jaundiced eye. It didn’t mean he was overcome with sentimentality.

Caris held out her glass for another dram. After he’d poured it and she took another swig, she whistled through her teeth. “I think you were always in Griffin’s shadow. He was so much older than the rest of us. I think if he’d lived, you never would have overcome that. I don’t think we’d be here and I don’t know that you would’ve been compelled to start inventing things. Because I know you began working on the first lamp to prevent what happened to them from ever happening again.”

Cadoc smiled at the thought of their eldest brother. “‘Twas hard not to be in Griffin’s shadow. He always dominated whatever space he was in.” Griff had possessed a hearty laugh and a healthy dose of humor that permeated his surroundings. “There was always a jest on his mind or a bawdy song on the tip of his tongue, and he never exercised restraint in giving voice to either.”

“Remember when one of his mates dared him to compose an englyn and recite it at the eisteddfod?”

“How could I forget? He practiced day and night. Muttering under his breath no matter what he was doing. He nearly won too, even though he’d never written a poem in his life until then.”

Caris’s expression grew wistful. “Mam was so proud of him.”

“She was. We all were. The other drammers ribbed me constantly, but I knew they were secretly envious and impressed.”

“I can still see him standing on the dais with his hands folded behind his back and his legs braced apart. It took him so long to begin speaking, we worried he’d forgotten it.”

“And then the penfyr he’d been composing just rolled off his tongue and we were awestruck. Like the poetry had been lying dormant in his soul. Deep in the mine, scarce and slow the sunlight, that creeps with a glow and shines, a mirror to the divine.” As soon as he’d begun reciting, his sister’s voice entwined with his. The words echoed through the room, a solemn reminder of the bonds that had held them together when there was scant light in their lives.

“I’d forgotten how beautiful his poem was. How I couldn’t explain my tears after I heard it.”

“His nickname was Bard after that, because his words captured what we all felt when we climbed the shaft and felt the sun on our faces. It was always like seeing the face of God after you’d forgotten how the radiance of it could wipe everything away.”

“The mine took him too soon. Even as it was putting bread on our table, it took it away. It took so much away from us and the other families in the valley. I always wondered why you never made competing in the eisteddfod a tradition.”

Cadoc shook his head. “I was too much of a pragmatist. The way the metal and the cogs and gears felt in my hands, I knew that’s how I would change things. Griffin’s voice was the longing for something, and I was made to be the doing of it.”

The fire from the hearth made the room warm and cozy, lulling them both to contemplative silence.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on your face when you came to the cottage to tell us the news.” Caris’s voice was soft and full of pain. “You were shaking and could barely stand because you ran the whole two miles. And your eyes, Cadoc. I knew before you said the words that the terrible noise I’d heard meant sorrow for our family.”

“I had to get to you before anyone else. I had to be the one to tell you they were gone.”

Caris rose and knelt before him. His grip was white-knuckled on the arm of the chair, and he could feel the brutal press of the glass beneath his other palm. She peeled his fingers from both, set the glass on the floor and clasped his hands. “I know how hard it was, brother, to become Da and the both of them to us. You sacrificed so much that day, and you were never the same. I know you carry that burden with you, that guilt that you were replacing them instead of honoring them.”

Cadoc turned a red-rimmed gaze to her. “How could you possibly know that?” He gruffly asked.

Her smile was gentle. “Because I know you, brother. Because I see the parts of our past, the ones that made us who we are, that you try to hide. I think that’s why you’re pursuing the schoolmistress. She reminds you of something you thought you’d lost forever.”

He suddenly knew she was right, and it was like an anvil had lifted from his chest. In moments like this, his sister’s insight never failed to render him speechless. He blinked back the tears.

She patted his hand one last time and rose. In that moment, she looked so much like their mother he wanted to howl and thrash his fists and weep. “I’ll leave you to your whisky and your meandering thoughts, brother. Please think on what I’ve said and come to terms with why winning whatever wager you’ve made with Miss Wainwright is so important to you.”

After Caris had slipped from the room, Cadoc stared into the fire again. When he closed his eyes, he could relive that moment when he knew he’d never see their faces again and he would be the one to tell his sisters. The anvil was lifted now, but he could still feel the ghost of its crushing weight pinning him in place, like a bird shot down with an arrow through its wing. He ruefully acknowledged his sister’s wisdom.

Jess Wainwright lifted the weight of that anvil from his soul, and that’s why he was so hellbent on making her his. When he looked into her eyes, he saw the same shadows and old sorrows that cloaked him. Those shadows resonated with his own. Even if he achieved his ends dishonorably, and he didn’t make her his for longer than the next morning, he could no longer deny the irrefutable truth of what her surrender would mean.