Julia Justiss - A Most Unconventional Match

Hal had just finished his inspection of the Lowery boy’s soldier when a door further down the hall opened and closed. ‘That’s Mama’s studio,’ the child said, excitement in his eyes. ‘Mayhap she’s done now. Let’s go see!’

Hal tried to ignore the sinking sensation suddenly spiralling in his gut. He was rising to his feet when a swarthy man in a freize coat, hat pulled down low over his eyes, brushed past them, a frowning Sands in his wake. Without a backward glance, the man exited through the door the butler hurriedly opened for him.

‘Now!’ the boy said urgently, tugging on Hal’s hand. ‘While Sands is busy!’

Hal tried to summon the words to tell the child that although he might scurry in to visit his mama, Hal ought to wait for the butler to announce him. But when the boy looked up, a pleading look on his face as he whispered ‘Please’, against his better judgement, Hal allowed the boy to lead him down the hallway.

Hal had barely time enough to wonder why such a rough-looking gent had been paying a call on Mrs Lowery before the child had him at the doorway. One rapid knock later, the boy pushed open the door and hurtled into the room.

‘Mama, Mama, look at the general!’ he cried as he ran in. ‘He’s hurt. We need to fix him!’

Halting on the threshold, Hal looked over at the woman he’d not seen in so long. When Elizabeth Lowery glanced up from her son and saw Hal, he felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked from the room.

She wore a simple black gown, a harsh shade, his mama said, that robbed the colour from a lady. But not from Elizabeth. The midnight hue rather emphasised the fairness of her hair, gleaming gold in the pale light from the window. The flush of peach at her cheekbones set off the cream of her face and the blaze of her eyes, deep cerulean like the noon sky at midsummer. The oval face with its pointed chin was a touch fuller than he remembered, while a few tiny lines at corners of her eyes imbued it with character.

This was no flawless ingénue, poised to begin life, but a vibrant, experienced woman who had lived, loved and laughed. A woman who stole his breath just as easily as she had seven years ago, while the force of the connection he felt to her froze him in place on the doorstep.

Amid the rush of sensation, one disjointed thought emerged: she was even more beautiful now than the first time he’d seen her.

While his pulse thrummed in his ears and he struggled to breathe, Hal dimly noted the child holding the soldier up to her, his words tumbling over each other as he tried to explain what had happened to his toy.

Rising to her feet, Elizabeth Lowery hushed her son with a gesture of her hand. ‘David, you are being impolite. First you must introduce your visitor.’

Hal forced his body into motion and found his tongue. ‘Hal Waterman, ma’am,’ he said, bowing. ‘Nicky’s friend. Just returned from the north and read of your loss. My sincere regrets.’

‘He’s going to be my friend, too, Mama,’ the boy interrupted. ‘He says while Uncle Nicky is in It-tal-lee he can fix the general for me.’

‘David, you mustn’t impose on Mr Waterman,’ his mother reproved. ‘And what are you doing down here? Where is Nurse? And Sands?’ Rubbing her hands together distractedly, she gave Hal a tremulous smile. ‘I do apologise, Mr Waterman. You must think you’ve stumbled into Bedlam.’

At the subtle correction, the child drooped, his eyes lowering, his hand with the broken toy falling back to his side. ‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll go back up. But I thought you would want to know about the general. So we can fix him. Like Papa would.’

Elizabeth’s eyes sheened and she took a ragged breath. ‘I know, dearest. Papa fixed everything. We’ll see what we can do, but later.’ Giving her son a quick hug, she clasped his shoulders and gently turned him toward the door. ‘Go back up now, there’s a good boy.’

His small shoulders hunched, David nodded. Chin wobbling, he walked towards the door.

The child’s anguish, clearly visible on his woebegone face, burned through Hal’s haze of bewitchment. In the figure of Elizabeth he could almost see his own mother, brushing him off, sending him away, too obsessed by her own wants and needs to spare the few moments necessary to comfort a distressed child.

Sympathy—and anger—reviving, he held out his hand as the boy walked past him. ‘Still be friends,’ he said, taking the small fingers in his large ones and shaking them. ‘Come back and fix the general.’

The boy’s eyes widened. ‘You will?’ he asked. When Hal nodded, a smile broke out on his face. ‘Then you will be my new best friend!’

‘David, you mustn’t trouble Mr Waterman—’ his mother objected behind them, but Hal silenced her with a shake of his head. ‘No trouble. Glad to do it. Until later.’ He gave David and his soldier a salute.

Giggling, the boy returned it before scampering from the room. Setting his jaw with firm purpose, Hal turned to face Elizabeth Lowery.

Trying to mentally regather the now-scattered bits of the speech he’d rehearsed, Hal said, ‘Sorry to intrude, but know your family is away. My best friend, Nicky. He’d want me to act for him. Check with your man of business, help in any way I can.’ Champion the interests of your son, he added silently.

‘My…my man of business?’ Putting her hands to her flushed cheeks, Elizabeth laughed disjointedly and her lips trembled. ‘You’re terribly kind, Mr Waterman, but I couldn’t bother you with our problems.’

Hal frowned. Something wasn’t right here. One of the few benefits of his verbal affliction was that his enforced silence had made him a keen observer of the people and events around him. Suddenly he recalled the rough man in the freize coat. ‘Did previous caller upset you?’

Tears gathered at the corners of her lovely eyes and she pinched her trembling lips together. Swiping a hand over her eyes impatiently, she said, ‘Well…yes, but I cannot ask you to—’

Hal waved a hand, his mind already going over the implications of a bully-boy tough calling on a lady at her home. ‘Pretend I’m Nicky. Here to help. ’Tis what Nicky would do. Sarah, too.’

She seemed genuinely distressed. Maybe that excused her brushing her son aside—this time, Hal thought, still studying her.

Her tear-glazed eyes inspected his face. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘You’re right, I would turn to Nicky, were he available. I know I ought not to involve you, but I truly have no idea what to do. And Nicky and Sarah have both spoken so often and so highly of you, that, although we are but little acquainted, I feel as if I know you.’

Hal shrugged. ‘Simple. Do anything for Nicky. Nicky do anything for you. Family. Besides, son’s new best friend.’

That earned him a feeble smile. Finally she nodded. ‘Very well, I shall tell you.’

‘What did the man want?’

‘Though it seems incredible, the caller, a Mr Smith, claims my husband borrowed money from his employer, a Mr Blackmen. Money he now wants back, with interest, if I correctly understood his implication. He said if I do not pay him, he could have my son and I evicted from this house and sent to Newgate.’

Her eyes went unfocused as she stared into the distance. Bringing her arms up, she crossed them over her chest and hugged her shoulders. ‘He said he might…’ Her voice trailed off and she shuddered.

Viewing that defensive pose, Hal had no difficulty imagining what the brawny interloper might have demanded of this beautiful, vulnerable woman who’d had only an elderly servant to protect her. That some low-born ruffian dared even imagine he could despoil Elizabeth Lowery’s genteel loveliness sent fury rushing through Hal’s veins..