Chapter 5 #2
The Briarwood family might be notorious to the ton, but they were certainly not notorious to the people of the East End, or the people of the arts, or anybody who might need help.
They’d only be notorious to them in the sense that they were notoriously good at helping people.
The ton did not always like how much they helped people.
As a matter of fact, Calchas thought that the ton wanted to keep most people down, just so they could stay up.
Thank God, he was not of that opinion and thank God that Hester Floyd had come to visit him today.
Since she’d departed, he had been reading newssheet after newssheet.
He had asked for books from his mother on the most recent political events around widows and poverty.
She had actually had quite a few and pamphlets to boot.
Nothing surprised him about his splendid, clever American mama and the kind of information she had in her library and archive.
She was, after all, an excellent publisher of her own accord. He had been reading all afternoon, and his brain was at last exhausted in a way it had not been in months. He was so grateful for the feeling. He could hardly countenance it.
He strolled into his grandmother’s favorite room and spotted her sitting in front of the fire.
Perhaps other grandmothers might’ve been knitting or embroidering, but she was reciting.
She was working on one of her favorite monologues, and he realized once an actress, always an actress, and in some ways, he felt like his grandmother was returning to the days of remembering when she was on the stage.
The older she got, the more dearly she loved to recite the roles that she had played as a young girl. At present, she was reading out Juliet. It was an incongruous sight to see a woman of her age reading the girlish lines, and yet somehow it was not ludicrous at all.
He felt the joy of hope. The joy of love. Of course, it all worked out terribly badly in that play, but his grandmother always managed to effuse the words with such brightness that one might desperately wish that the play had a different ending, and might even dare to believe it could for a moment.
“Grandmama,” he ventured, hating to break her attention but feeling compelled, given his present mission.
She hesitated, then turned to him, the attitude of Juliet slipping from her frame. Once she spotted him, her face transformed into one of happiness and she extended her hand, gesturing for him to come closer. “My boy, come sit with me.”
He strode to her, bent down, and kissed her soft but wrinkled cheek. “The house is quiet tonight. Quite odd, isn’t it?”
“It’s only because all the children have been put to bed,” she said with a contented sigh.
He laughed. “How many children are in this house?”
“Oh, Calchas,” she tsked, putting her book on the table beside her settee, “I’m sure you could figure it out on your own without me having to tell you.”
As he sat on the settee beside her, he pursed his lips with the sort of exaggerated drama he knew she adored. “I could, but it would take far too much time, and I don’t have enough fingers.”
She batted his shoulder. “You are terrible.”
“Yes, I am and you love it.”
“I do,” she agreed. “Now, tell me about that interesting meeting you had today.”
He leaned back, at ease with her. “Oh, you knew I was coming to speak to you about her?”
“Of course,” she said, her eyes glinting with wisdom and mischief. “She’s quite special, isn’t she?”
“Yes, I think she is,” he agreed.
“You like her?”
“I do. She’s a very interesting person.”
“I think so too.” Her grandmother grew serious for a moment. “She escaped her parents, which is no small thing. I have helped so many young ladies escape terrible parents. She did it on her own.”
“She did get married,” he pointed out.
His grandmother drew in a long breath and glanced to the brightly crackling fire. “Yes, but I think she would’ve left anyway. She was looking for a way out of that house and she found herself one.”
Calchas cleared his throat, thrilled that his grandmother clearly admired Hester as much as he did. It would make his request much easier. “I’d like you to invite her to dinner.”
“Invite her to dinner,” she echoed as if it was the most obvious thing to say. “Of course, I’m happy to, but why dinner and not a party?”
He tensed. He knew Hester would hate him to say it, but he was going to be honest. “She looked hungry.”
His grandmother nodded grimly. “Yes, she did, didn’t she? Of course, I shall invite her to dinner. I will happily invite her to dinner every night this week. For as long as you wish.” She paused, tilted her head to the side, and then boldly asked, “Are you going to make her yours?”
“What?” he asked.
“If you don’t, I will adopt her,” she said, smoothing her hands along her silk skirts. “I haven’t adopted anyone in quite a while, and I think it’s time. I look after so many grandchildren that I’ve allowed that to take up the vast majority of my attention, but I think she needs someone.”
He nodded, flummoxed by his grandmother’s first statement. Make her his? Oh, how he wanted to. But could he? With his desire to leave? That ever-present call inside of him, beckoning him to sail away and not come back? “I think so too,” he concurred. But he frowned. “She’s afraid of my help.”
His grandmother gave a simple shrug of a single shoulder. “Of course. You’re a man.”
He sucked in a breath. “Why would that make her afraid of my help?”
“Calchas,” his grandmother said, “don’t be dense. Your parents and I did not raise you to be naive. Good, yes. Naive, no.”
The idea that he could be naive was laughable after all he’d seen but…
He let out a sigh. “I am not a terrible old rake, Grandmama, you know that. I’m not going to harm her.”
“No, of course not, but she doesn’t know that. Most men always want something from women. And it’s not a pat on the hand.”
He scowled. He loved being a man. “I hate that the generalization is correct, even if it doesn’t apply to every man.”
She drew in a long breath. “I am deeply grateful that my sons and grandsons are far superior, as well as any man who has married into this family,” she said.
“But alas, young men are not taught particularly good morals or manners when it comes to young ladies. I find that they are often willing to take advantage if the situation allows.”
“Well, I promise you I won’t take advantage of her,” he vowed, his insides burning with fury at anyone who would try to take anything from Hester.
“You are a very good man,” she said, cupping his cheek. “You have done us so proud. I only hope…” She shook her head, as if reconsidering and asked instead, “What did she want?”
“Money,” he replied honestly.
His grandmother laughed, delighted. “I like her well. She asked you for money flat out, without any other parameters?”
“She actually did so boldly, but she had a plan.” He beamed at his grandmama, savoring the opportunity to share the story. “I thought it was quite something, but for a moment I feared she would swoon on the spot.”
His grandmother rolled her eyes. “Ah, the ton is not willing to talk about money, as far as I can see. At least not explicitly, outside of a marriage contract,” she said. “And Lady Hester is born of the ton, but she has apparently been converted to the ways of other classes.”
“It would seem so.”
There was a knock on the door. “Your Grace?” the butler called.
“Yes?” she prompted.
The butler looked most alarmed. “There is a young woman at the door with a companion. They’re asking to see Lord Calchas. And it is urgent.”
“Who is it?” he demanded, already knowing the answer in his heart. Fear laced through him. Anyone calling at this hour was not calling to take tea.
“It is Mrs. Floyd. She says that she needs your help. The situation is delicate, I think.”
His heart began to beat wildly. “Take me to her at once,” he growled.
For if she was here, she must be in dire straits indeed, for she was proud and wouldn’t easily ask for more help.
But she was going to get it. She was going to get everything she’d ever need. He was going to see to that.