Page 121 of Marry in Haste
Radcliffe nodded, occupied with his paperwork again. Cal saw himself out.
***
The Gimble family received Cal’s visit with suspicion, if not outright hostility. He couldn’t blame them.
The woman who answered the door wouldn’t open it more than a crack until he said, “I was with Joe when he died—I didn’t kill him. He fell from a tree and broke his neck—but I was there, and before he died he gave me a message for his wife and children. Would that be you?”
Grudgingly she opened the door and gestured for him to come in. Her eyes were red with weeping. The three children gathered around her, the little ones clutching her skirt. The young boy stood stiffly apart, his eyes full of grief and anger.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said to Joe’s widow, though in all honesty he couldn’t be sorry Joe Gimble was dead. “Joe died quickly and in no pain.” He didn’t know if the latter was true, but he was comforting the living.
“I have made arrangements to pay for Joe’s funeral. He won’t be going in a pauper’s grave.”
“Why?” Mrs. Gimble said bitterly. “Feeling guilty?”
“Not guilty, but partly responsible. What was between Joe and me was nothing to do with his family, and I’m sorry you were imprisoned. I had no part of that.”
She eyed him skeptically a moment, then gave a reluctant nod. “You said Joe had a message for us.”
Cal pulled out the roll of notes, to which he’d added tickets for a passage to America for two women and three children. Not steerage, either. “He gave me this to give to you.”
She stared at the roll of money, likely more than she’d seen in her life. She gave him a disbelieving look. Cal nodded, and she reached out a trembling hand and took the money, clutching it to her chest as if frightened he’d snatch it back.
“Tickets to America are in there, for you, your sister and the children.”
She nodded, her mouth working.
“Joe’s last words were to tell you he loved you.”
Her face crumpled, her eyes flooded with tears. She gave a loud sob and fled the room.
Cal looked down at the boy. “I watched you, the day they took you all away to prison. The way a person behaves in a crisis is very revealing of character.”
The boy watched him from narrowed, suspicious eyes.
“You took care of the little ones, and you helped your mother and aunt.”
“Gotta,” the boy muttered. “I gotta be the man of the family when Da’s away.” His face struggled as he remembered his father was never coming back.
“Your father said he was very proud of you.” The boy turned away abruptly, his hands over his eyes.
“You’re a son any man would be proud of,” Cal said, and quietly let himself out.
***
He told Emm about it that night. She lay snuggled against his chest.
She wept a few tears when he told her about Mrs. Gimble and the money. And about what he’d said to the young boy. “You’re a good man, Calbourne Rutherford. No wonder I love you so much.” They kissed then, but softly, because her shoulder was still painful and he didn’t want to jar her.
He ached to be able to make love to her again, this time in the full knowledge that he loved her, and that she loved him. The glow in her eyes told him she felt the same.
“So you’re not going back to Europe?”
“No. I’ve resigned my commission.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Become the Earl of Ashendon.”
