Page 80 of Fair Weather Enemies
Jane’s departure left Adam reeling. Her assessment of his character had struck him like a volley of arrows, piercing his soul with a wave of indictment. Her words had yanked him from comfortable darkness to cower beneath the blinding light of a revealing sun. His rising agony was heightened by a sickening revelation: her judgment of him rang true.
But, but… Jane had also proclaimed her love for the man he had become along the road. Deep in disarray, he watched with injured astonishment as her slender form slipped down the mountain, her every step putting final distance between them. After perhaps a minute, the last of her blue riding habit disappeared behind a rock outcrop, robbing him of even a glimpse of her presence. A primal gasp climbed his throat, and he broke. He bent to rest his hands on his knees, inhaling labored staccato breaths. Dismal realizations assailed him, one after the next. Before two weeks ago, he had been going through the motions for ten years, an empty well substituting pride, duty, and guilt for truly living. However, these past two weeks had restored him, revived him, and created within him an understanding that he could be greater than just guilty, better than merely burdened, more than simply mediocre. The instant Jane slipped from his sight he ceded all of that hard-fought ground in the space of a few heartbeats. From the dust Jane had lifted him; to the dust he was returning.
“Mr. Ashford? Are you well?”
Thomas’s concern after the long silence shook Adam from his desolation. He tore his eyes from the empty hillside and stood to regard the old man with sorrow.
“I am not, Mr. Chance.”
“What will you do, then?”
Adam considered the question as if his life depended on it, which it likely did. What would he do? He recounted Jane’s parting words to him and slogged past the painful incrimination to what she had said about his change along the journey. She believed he had become a man deserving of her admiration, worthy of her love. His fists clenched of their own accord as desperate determination ripped through him. He wanted to be the kind of man who could live up to her lofty expectations of his character. He needed to be worthy of her love.
But how? Rutley’s contract was ironclad. Any attempt to subvert it would only worsen matters for him while doing nothing for Jane. He envisioned what would happen when they all returned to London. Rutley would send Jane to debtor’s prison immediately. With her put away, he would pressure Hester into payments that would never be enough to free her niece. He would excuse his dastardly actions as merely the necessary practice of business. However, Adam knew the dark truth of his future father-in-law. Rutley was a sadistic man, taking pleasure in inflicting pain on those who dared to disappoint him. Someone must suffer for his appeasement. That someone would be Jane.
Meanwhile, Rutley would lock down the Ashford estate with a quick marriage and then bleed Adam for profits for the remainder of his life. Adam would remain powerless to lighten Jane’s burden. The best he might hope to accomplish would be small, discreet contributions to the prison to prevent Jane from starving, freezing, or wasting away with illness. However, if Rutley ever learned of his gestures, there was no telling what despicable actions he might take in response.
“I will be done with this venture,” Adam said finally in response to Thomas’s hanging question. “That’s what I will do.”
Thomas nodded gravely. “My duty to your family has filled me with pride and purpose for seventy years, sir. I do not know the entirety of the story, but I can see your dismay. Given the dark nature of the story’s ending, I’ve a sudden yearning to dispose of my obligation.”
That last word echoed through Adam’s mind for several seconds before he seized it.Obligation. He blinked rapidly as an astonishing idea rose from the recesses of his mind over the course of several seconds. Was it possible? Could it work? He considered the details further.Yes, he thought,though it would feature pain and betrayal and would likely end in failure. But I must try.Desperate hope surged within him. He straightened to clap a hand on Thomas’s shoulder, startling the old man.
“Mr. Chance, how would you like to visit London?”
Thomas scratched his jaw in thought before smiling. “Always wanted to see the great city, sir.”
“Good, then. Let’s pack this gold and find a couple of trustworthy lads who are good with pistols. We’ve a long journey ahead and many obstacles to overcome.”
Those obstacles rose tall in Adam’s mind, but he knew he must try to surmount them to save Jane. After all, rescuing Jane was his only means of saving himself.
Chapter Thirty
Adrift on a sea of recent memories, Jane perused the pavement blankly as every step carried her nearer to the end of any prospects. Aunt Hester clutched her arm for support but otherwise chose not to interrupt Jane’s misery. Despite the dire circumstances, she remained grateful for her aunt’s steadfast presence. During the seven-day return trip from Coniston to London, with a stop in Oxfordshire along the way, Aunt Hester had sustained her in every manner possible. She had kept her fed, bedded her down at night, and battled valiantly to prevent her from tumbling into a well of despair. Over the days since their return, her aunt had industriously prepared Jane for her impending incarceration, collecting a meager supply of food to see her through those first days at the prison. Now, thirty days had passed since the signing of the cursed contract. Just ahead, Mr. Rutley waited in his office to administer the fatal blow.
She lifted her eyes from the ground to once again note the towering presence of St. Paul’s Cathedral. The last time she had walked this way, she had offered a silent prayer, only for Adam to immediately fall into her path. This time, she offered a new prayer—one of gratitude for her astonishing friendship with him and a plea for reprieve from the lonely hardship to come. To her dismay, Adam did not appear.
“Here we are, dear.”
Aunt Hester’s announcement drew her attention to a familiar door, behind which lurked Mr. Rutley. She pictured him there, likely rubbing his hands together with glee in anticipation of her impending destruction. She grimaced and tried to accept the miserable reality. Her freedom would end the moment she stepped into his lair. As they approached the door, she voiced final concerns.
“How will I live, Auntie? I cannot even sell the mill. Mr. Rutley placed a lien on it in my absence. He seems determined that I suffer as much as possible.”
“I know, Jane. Chin up, though. We will find a way.”
She shook her head. Adam had promised the same but seemed powerless to keep his word. In fact, she had neither seen him nor heard from him since her return to London. That alone might have crushed her had not the distressing circumstances proved so distracting.
After reaching the door to Rutley’s office, she collected her courage, straightened her back, and grasped the doorknob. She remained determined not to shed tears. He did not deserve that little bit of satisfaction. Arm in arm, she and Aunt Hester entered the office. As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, she spied Rutley slumped in his chair behind his massive desk. The man’s expression appeared unusually dour in what should have been a moment of triumphant pleasure. Standing beside the desk was Mr. Barlow, as expected. He stepped forward and bowed.
“Good day, Mrs. Byrd. Miss Hancock.” His greeting proved surprisingly cordial given the ugly nature of the meeting. When Jane narrowed her eyes at him, he spared her the barest hint of a smile. Her suspicion mounted, but she had not come for pleasantries. She halted three steps shy of Rutley’s desk and clenched her hands together at her waist.
“Mr. Rutley. I have come to declare my insolvency, confess my inability to repay my debts, and proclaim my readiness to accept the consequences.”
The speech she had rehearsed for two weeks emerged with all the bravado for which she had hoped. She took a small measure of pride in that and peered intently into her creditor’s eyes, unflinching. Rutley met her gaze silently for a solid ten seconds before his scowl drew deeper and he glanced away in disgust.
“Tell her, Mr. Barlow.”
Barlow’s smile became more pronounced. “But sir, do you not wish to share the fortunate news personally? After all…”
