Year After Year (Hathaway/Wallflower Next Generation)
I apologize for all of the spam for this strange, little (humongous) story. I'll be around with a real post soon(ish). I'm 2000 words into my yuletide assignment with no end in sight. Whew!
Title: Year After Year
Characters: Harry Rutledge, Poppy Rutledge, Claire St. Vincent, Elizabeth Rutledge, Jeremy Hunt, Jado Merripen, Brenna Merripen, Edward Hathaway, Emmaline Hathaway, Russell Bowman, Rye Rohan, Simon Hunt, Sebastian St. Vincent, Kev Merripen
Rating: pg
Word Count: 5,370
Summary: You put your arms around me and I'm home...
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: Random cuts from my 2011 NaNo, Next Generation fic for Lisa Kleypas's Wallflower & Hathaway series. Not all will be posted, but if you have any certain character you would like to see, let me know and I will see what I have (or perhaps write something new in this universe). This is all set about 20 years after the Hathaway series. For your convenience, cast of characters listed here.
“Where are the children?” Harry whispered to Poppy after that infernal supper had finally ended. They were settled in the parlor, with all of the heads of the other families. The younger married couples had stopped in the parlor for a short time, but retired after the babies began to fuss. Now they were just left with just the younger Mr. and Mrs. Bowman and the older people...which Harry had to admit now included himself. He never thought he would see the day.
Poppy smiled gently. “Our daughters are off with people their own age, Harry.”
“Yes, but Elizabeth-”
“Is your daughter,” Poppy interrupted. “And she is never anywhere she does not wish to be.”
Harry scowled.
*
Lady Claire had the most contagious laughter that Elizabeth had ever heard. In the absence of Isabelle Gaultier, she was a deft hostess, and Elizabeth not help but notice the shameless way she flirted with Jado. For, in the best way Elizabeth had ever seen, Lady Claire had absolutely no shame - there was no need for it. It was an admirable quality.
And this was not the easiest crowd to just sit and chat with ease, with the Swift brothers glaring at Rye from across the room and Edward crowding protectively around Emmaline and Jado being so suspicious of Russell Bowman and Jeremy Hunt.
Mrs. Gaultier had spent a bit of time with Elizabeth before she brought her adorable daugher Sophie upstairs to go to sleep. She was enchanting, and nearly blindingly beautiful, very exotic with her black, black eyes and glossy black curls. It was easy to see why a famous artist had fallen in love with her, one could easily paint her face forever and always find a new angle. She had given her brother teasing little looks throughout, as though she were in possession of a great secret.
Jeremy had not left her side. They sat on a settee together, and his knee touched hers, pressing against her skirt and Elizabeth could feel his warmth. He was a big man, and it was difficult to not be aware of the power he had. Her heart had been beating so fast all night, she was surprised it had not pounded straight out of her chest.
Although she tried to engage Emmaline in conversation and Jeremy conversed easily with Rory Bowman and his own brother, she knew that they were completely aware of each other. This was a completely new experience for Elizabeth. Before, she had mildly enjoyed flirting as a pleasant but not terribly exciting pastime. She had never felt this physical reaction, this restless excitement, anticipation...
“Bess?”
She turned to him, laughing softly. “I asked you to stop calling me that.”
He smiled. “I can’t seem to help myself.”
She sighed. “You could put in a bit more effort.”
Jeremy leaned back on the settee, balancing his square jaw on his fist. “I had a question to ask you.”
Her heart raced. “Yes?”
He grinned then, that entirely too amused smile that she was beginning to associate well with him. “There is a linen closet upstairs that I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me to, in order to inspect the lock mechanisms.”
Elizabeth gave him a playful slap on his wrist, and the point that their skin cracked together sent a little spark up her arm. He felt it too, she could see him tense.
“You won’t be sorry,” he said. “This is not a trick, Elizabeth.” There was a plea in his eyes, and Elizabeth got the feeling that he did not very often plead for anything. She stole a glance over to Jado. She would never be able to leave the room with him watching over her. But her cousin was preoccupied for once, in a heated discussion with Edward. And Elizabeth could guess what that was about. She glanced guiltily over to Emmaline, who looked rather miserable in the corner. She glanced back at Jado. Likely, this opportunity would not happen again.
She placed her gloved hand in Jeremy Hunt’s, and when Jado finally looked back in the direction of the settee, it was empty.
*
Elizabeth was more than a little bit breathless after the mad rush up the stairs. Halfway up, Jeremy had put one arm around her waist and half-carried her, while she held tightly to his neck and coat, her feet just slipping over the stairs, barely touching down. When they had reached the top, Elizabeth looked left and then right, without any idea of where he was taking her. “This way,” he whispered, pulling her behind a door and closing it shut behind them.
Elizabeth had to smile to herself. It was indeed a linen closet. It seemed that this would be the special place for the two of them. How very romantic. “Well, if this was your trick, then-”
But she did not finish that thought which wasn’t of much consequence in the first place because as she was turning around, looking at the bedsheets and toweling, Jeremy had turned her in his arms, pulling her head to his and her body flush against his own. He angled her head backwards and she felt his breath, hot over her mouth, but he did not touch his lips to hers, just looked down into her eyes, letting her know all of his intentions.
One month ago, Elizabeth had wanted to kiss someone, anyone, just for the sake of it being done.
Now, she wanted to kiss no one else.
It was her who moved, stood up on her tiptoes to drag his head down to hers, and she pressed her closed mouth to his, feeling his muffled chuckle. “Easy, love, easy,” she thought she heard him say, but he was shaping her mouth to his. He wrapped one arm fully around her waist, lifting her off her feet and cupped her jaw with his thumb and forefinger. She drowned in him. And he laughed. She could not get enough of him. And he laughed. She squirmed against him, too embarrassed to be held so.
“Easy, love, easy,” he repeated, but he did not set her on her feet. “Oh my...what a little tiger you are.”
Elizabeth did not know if she cared for the comparison, and she must have registered outrage on her face because Jeremy laughed and held her face close to his. “No, no, love, not like that,” and he lowered his mouth to hers again, just touching her lips. “Easy, love,” he murmured again. “I could drown in you if I’m not careful...”
That Elizabeth had not been expecting, and then he groaned, “Oh, my Bess,” he groaned again, and this time, when he kissed her, he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to her closed lips. “Easy, love. Open for me, sweetheart.”
She started to ask him what he meant by that, but she was cut off with the unexpected sensation of the flick of his tongue against hers, followed by a sweet, brief kiss to only her lower lip. And when he pulled back this time, there was a hew hunger in his eyes, a hunger that sent a curl of want through her whole body to the tips of her toes. As he took her face in his hands, Elizabeth knew that he was not the only one in danger of drowning. His fingers searched through her carefully arranged hair, loosening it and applying pressure to the base of her skull, and sending trembles through every inch of her skin.
He kissed her senseless. He kissed her until she could not breathe or see. If this was indeed drowning, she would be more than happy to die this death a thousand times over. “Jer...Jeremy,” she sighed, her breath breaking on a moan, and the sound of his own name only seemed to pull him further under.
Finally, when she could not take any more, he let her go, pulling his head up, and she followed him for second before sliding back down his body as he eased his grip on her. He was a full head taller than her with both feet on the ground, and Elizabeth sagged against him, grateful for the support of his strong arms and chest. “We have to go back downstairs,” he whispered, still holding her close and rocking her gently. Elizabeth did not even hear him at first.
And then his words began to sink in, as she came back to herself and her surroundings. She was standing in the arms of a man she hardly knew, in a blasted linen closet in a Mayfair mansion. How had she let this happen to herself? She was ruined.
Everything was ruined. Her sisters, her cousin (how was Emmaline ever going to be able to face Russell Bowman ever again, not to mention the little girls), her parents and her aunts and uncles, and...everything. How could she? “What...what you must think of me,” she tried to keep the mortified desperation out of her voice as she attempted to pull away from him, and she failed miserably (on both accounts).
He was laughing. He was laughing at her again. Elizabeth asked herself again, how could she have allowed this to happen? She was raised far better than this, she knew better than this. “Let me go, please,” she squirmed against him, furious at him for laughing at her, and furious with herself for giving him something at which to laugh.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth...” but he could not keep that damnable mirth out of his voice as he held her tighter, crushing her to him, and holding her immobile, and Elizabeth fought the sting of tears, she could not let him see her cry on top of everything else. “Bess.” So quickly he had seemed to adopt this endearment, that she hated for years, but it sounded so infinitely different coming from his dark, raspy voice. When he saw he had gotten her attention, he cupped her face again and spoke her name softly, reverently. “Bess.” He kissed the tips of her damp eyelashes, and smiled tenderly down at her. “Your entire family is downstairs, and mine too. Do you think my commitment to you is anything less than totally and completely genuine?”
The boldness of his statement stunned her into stillness for a good, long moment. And then she began to laugh, delirious. He took a second to join her, but once he did, she saw tears glistening in his glittering black eyes, and they both laughed and laughed and laughed, him cradling her head to his shoulder and pulling her tight, as if he would never let her go. Elizabeth squeezed him back.
“So all of this was just for me?” Elizabeth said finally, wiping tears from under her eyes, and he took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles.
“Of course, my silly Bess,” he smiled at her. “My father took one look at my mother and knew there would never be another woman like her, and from what I hear, it was the same for your parents.” Elizabeth was silent. That was true, but she did not know how he knew that. “Oh, I have found out quite a bit about you, my sweet Bess.” He said to her quizzical expression.
“How long are you going to keep calling me that?” Elizabeth laughed, even though she had to admit that she was loving the sound of it.
“For the rest of your life.” Though the joy remained on his face, dancing in his eyes, the solemnity of this vow he made to her touched her heart, and she laid her head against his chest. “Easy, love. I’m yours, if you will have me. But please don’t torture me just for play, my Bess.”
“Well I think it’s too late for that,” Elizabeth answered. “I think you know I belong to you and you keep calling me yours anyway.”
“Wishing into existence,” Jeremy kissed her again, lingering for only a moment. She understood. He didn’t want to allow himself to get carried away, but the promise of what was to come, oh there was so much more...
Finally he let her go. “We have to go back downstairs,” he said again.
“What will we do now?” Elizabeth asked.
He grinned, and she knew that he was going to enjoy this. “Hide all of the weapons in the house, and then tell your father.”
*
“Dance with me, brother!” Jado laughed as Brenna flung herself at him, in a flying leap, and he caught her easily, spinning her so that she would giggle madly. There was no music but that didn’t usually stop the Merripens at a party. The baby hugged him back when he stopped spinning and then he felt her sleepy little yawn against his shoulder. “I’m tired, brother. When are we going home?”
“Soon enough, little fairy, soon enough.” He kept his voice light, but he exchanged a worried look with Edward, standing across the room, and worrying his pocket watch between his fingers. Rye was overseeing parlor games between some of the younger children that Jado knew made Anna especially feel just slightly bad, as though she was doing something quite grown-up and therefore forbidden. The Duke of Kingston’s young son, Gabriel, had made fast friends with Jado’s own youngest brother, Mihai, and they were playing as a team in a game of chess against Tali and Rebecca, and Tamas oversaw it all with the seriousness of a master.
But Emmaline had disappeared some time ago, practically on the verge of tears, and Russell Bowman followed soon after, and Elizabeth and Jeremy Hunt had been missing for even longer. They couldn’t possibly go back to their parents with either (or both) girls missing, not without starting a war, especially between Uncle Harry and all of the men in the Hunt family. Dinner had been tense enough, all Uncle Harry had to hear was any inkling that his first daughter was being compromised under Simon Hunt’s roof. And Jado fervently hoped that it was not coming to that.
“How sweet you are with her, my lord,” Lady Claire was a woman who purred. Everything she said came out sounding like someone was scratching her belly in a most pleasant way. Jado turned to her with a polite smile. She had not been an easy woman to ignore, and Jado was somewhat flattered that she seemed to have turned her attention on him, though she would have had far better luck with Edward. Lady Claire gave him a sly wink before she turned down to Brenna. “And how pretty you are, my little lady.”
Jado gently nudged his baby sisters elbow. “What do you say, fairy?”
“Thank you, my lady,” Brenna said sleepily. “So are you.” And Lady Claire laughed merrily at that. Jado got the feeling that she was not modest about how beautiful she obviously knew she was, but appreciated the sweet little sentiment nonetheless.
Brenna yawned against him, and Jado glanced at the clock again, worried. It was getting later - far too late. Soon enough, his mother and maybe his father would come looking for Brenna, and then all would be alerted about the absence of Emmaline and Elizabeth and then...the inevitable. Chaos and duels and this was not a night for bloodshed.
“Oh, the poor dear,” Lady Claire crooned, reaching out a hand to smooth Brenna’s glossy dark hair. “She is up so very late, I’m sure. Why don’t you let her sleep down here for a while?” And Lady Claire moved down the settee, clearing a space large enough for a very small girl to stretch out. It was clear that she was leaving an invitation open for them to take a walk, perhaps off alone by themselves for some time, but Jado had no time for such trivialities at this moment.
“Thank you, my lady,” Jado said, carefully setting his littlest sister down, and quickly turning to confer with Edward, who was growing ever more nervous and tense, removing and replacing his spectacles in that habit he had when he was anxious about something. He glanced past Mirela, playing Statues with the rest of the party guests close to her own age (who were all of her cousins and young Miss Rose Swift), content that she was managing to enjoy herself a bit, even if it was only for a short while this night. She had been so preoccupied since they left Fairwall, that Jado wondered if she had lost her smile, somewhere in the Irish Sea.
“Where are they?” Jado whispered as he reached Edward, who at the same time said in a clear enough voice, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”
Jado exchanged a look with Rye, who was trying so hard to keep the rest of the children distracted, so that Addie would not go looking for her sister as she usually did and Anna would not get any ideas about making trouble for her sister, as she so often seemed tempted to do.
“Let me go look for them,” Jado whispered to Edward.
Edward shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t we split up? You’ll go find Elizabeth and I’ll find my sister.” Jado studied his calm and steady cousin, honestly ready to do murder and shook his head. That would not be a good idea.
“I’ll be quick,” Jado promised, and slipped out of the parlor, with a surprising grace for a man his size. He did not have to go far to find Emmaline, as she and Bowman were just past the parlor, half-hidden behind a curtain. He heard them before he saw them, in particular, he heard his cousin’s soft sobbing, and Jado felt his anger rise, as he heard the harsh tone in Bowman’s voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jado yanked the curtain back sharply and stood over the two of them, tall and forbidding.
“Mornington, if you please, just give us a moment here, man.” He and Bowman had always respected each other, but this, Jado would not stand for.
“You’ve had enough here,” Jado would not be swayed, and he pulled Emmaline away, placing an arm around her shoulder. “Go back to the parlor, go talk to your brother, sweetheart,” he said softly to her, but she didn’t move for a second, looking back at the boy she had loved so much, her lip trembling. “Go, sweet.” He prompted again, placing his body as a shield between her and Bowman. When she finally turned and fled, Jado turned back to Bowman. “You will leave her alone from now on. You won’t break what’s left of her heart.”
“But I-”
“You will not.” Jado was unmoving, and granite when he wanted to be. “Look at you - wasted away when you didn’t get what you wanted, and you continue to torture her. Let her be peaceful, give her a chance to be happy, man.” Jado was mortified to see tears in Bowman’s eyes, and left him to his emotions. Jado was of no good use in such scenes.
He turned left and then right, unsure of which direction to strike out in, in the Hunts’ enormous mansion. Why did the damn place have to be so bloody big? He was about to go off down the darkest hallway, when he heard soft laughter coming from down the stairs. Jado stepped back, out of view, as he watched his dear cousin Elizabeth descending the stairs with Jeremy Hunt, hand in hand. He was whispering in her ear, and halfway down the stairs, Hunt took her waist in his hands, holding her up against the wall and kissing her, fully, with no mistake in the intention of such a kiss. Jado decided he should make his presence known before he witnessed any more.
He stepped out from the shadows, taking care to make much noise with his shoes and ahemming quite loudly, but it still took a long, thorough moment before Hunt broke the kiss, and spun Elizabeth around. His cousin looked properly mortified, but he was quite sure that this was all in Hunt’s designs, as he had not one trace of shame across his face. Jado poised, tense and ready to strike, and before he knew it, he had leapt up the staircase, physically separating his cousin from Hunt with brutal strength. Elizabeth cried out his name, and then Hunt’s, but Jado did not let the bastard go.
“Jado, really, it’s all right,” Elizabeth was trying to pull them apart with all of her strength, but Hunt was surprisingly passive in Jado’s iron grip.
“How is any of this all right,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth, barely able to look at her. “This...this...this pig scum feels it’s perfectly all right to have his hands all over you, is this what you think is all right?”
“Jado, if you will just let us-”
“Yes Jado, let her explain,” Hunt smiled as he pulled his collar out of Jado’s reach. Bastard was always smiling. How did Elizabeth find that attractive?
“You keep your fucking mouth shut, gadjo,” Jado said, bristling at this stranger using his family nickname, and his cousin gasped at his profanity.
“I apologize, Lord Mornington,” Hunt held his hands up in surrender, and Jado tightened his hands into fists at his sides.
“You have precisely one minute, gadjo,” Jado said, and for good measure, pulled his cousin roughly over to his side.
Hunt seemed in no rush though. He whispered over to Elizabeth, “What does ‘gadjo‘ mean?”
“It means ‘white man’,” Elizabeth whispered back.
“Oh, fair enough,” Hunt leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Mornington, I have no intention of letting you tell me my damn business.”
“Wrong answer,” Jado snarled and reached for him again, but Elizabeth reached up to pull him back with surprisingly strong, dainty fists.
As they struggled, Jado hadn’t realized that they had drawn a crowd, but he came to understand that it wasn’t Elizabeth’s surprising strength pulling him back, but her strength combined with Rye’s. Nicholas Hunt was at his brother’s side in another instant, leaning against the wall in the same relaxed pose that Jado realized he would be a fool to underestimate.
“Please don’t tell me that what I think is happening is happening,” Rye whispered in his cousin’s ear.
“Oh, it’s happened,” Jado laid his face in his palm, sighing exasperatedly. He glanced over his shoulder at the open door of the parlor, where all of the younger children had gathered to watch the spectacle. Edward had his arms protectively around each of his sisters and Anna was pushing forward, her eyes wide as saucers. Even Brenna had woken up with all of the excitement, and she was being held against Lady Claire’s shoulder. Jado was momentarily touched by her tenderness with his little fairy.
“Jado, don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical?” Elizabeth had raised her voice, her hands on her hips, in the same posture he had seen his own mother take, and his aunt Poppy, and the rest of the aunties. “This is no less than you’ve done, I’m sure.” Jado said nothing. “And this...this is not some cheap interlude with some...some...” Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in concentration to find a dirty enough word, and Jado saw Hunt’s eyes soften toward her. Not cheap at all. “Blast, Jado, we are going to-”
“I’m going to marry her,” Hunt broke in, and Jado saw that he had moved to be by her side, his hand resting possessively on her waist. Several of the little girls gasped behind him, but Jado did not turn, narrowing his eyes at Hunt.
“I’m warning you, Hunt,” he began, his voice low. “This girl is my family, and I have taken it upon myself to protect her since we were babies.” Jado was several years younger than Hunt, but he was by far the largest man in the room, and he felt confident in his threats.
“And you’ve done a splendid job,” Hunt answered easily. “But I’ll take it from here.”
“Is that so?”
All turned to the other end of the foyer, where their audience had grown considerably. Uncle Leo and Aunt Cat were worriedly looking over at Emmaline, with Aunt Cat looking like she was having trouble not flying across the room to her daughter. Mrs. Hunt looked mortified, and Mrs. Gaultier looked as though she were having a difficult time not bursting out into laughter. All of the others, his aunts and uncles and parents, and the friends of the Hunts all displayed a variety of slack-jawed, shocked expression, but in the center, in the forefront, was his Uncle Harry, being held back by Aunt Poppy and looking ready to commit murder by flaying Jeremy Hunt alive.
Jado turned back to the couple who looked as if under a theatre spotlight, and he was pleased to see that Hunt had the sense to wipe that damn smirk off his face. The bastard even looked a little apprehensive at the rage in Harry Rutledge’s eyes, and with a quick survey around the room, Jado saw all of the men quietly slip into defensive postures, ready to leap into a brawl to either break it up or raise the stakes. His own father had even removed his jacket. Jado hadn’t even seen where he would have put it.
“Mr. Rutledge, I...” Jado saw Jeremy Hunt at a loss for words, possibly for the first time in his life, and even Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. He wished his cousin would look him in the eye. She did not even know this man. What the hell was she thinking?
Then Hunt shifted into his familiar, trademark casual grin. “I had a better plan, you know, sir.” Jado glanced back to his uncle, who resembled a steam kettle just starting to boil. “I am going to marry your daughter. I would like you to be happy about it, because it would make Elizabeth happy. But either way...Elizabeth is going to be my wife.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, boy,” Uncle Harry growled, and a nervous titter went through the children, particularly Brenna (whom Jado hoped had never heard that word before) and Caroline, who had never seen her father like this.
“Rutledge, please,” Simon Hunt flew across the room, blocking Uncle Harry’s path up the stairs to his son. Jeremy Hunt hadn’t moved, Jado noticed. Whatever his bold, disrespectful words had been, it seemed he wasn’t going to to try to avoid the thrashing coming his way. Jado had to respect that, and he knew that his Uncle Harry would as well - eventually.
Simon Hunt tried for his usual levity. “No need for bloodshed tonight, in front of the women and children. Besides, I haven’t any fencing foils in the house for you to-” But Simon Hunt was cut off from the rest of his speech by a sucker punch that sent him flying across the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister, which threatened to crack under the weight. Both his Aunt Poppy and Mrs. Hunt cried out in shock, frozen for a moment.
And then the entire room sprang into action, resulting in chaos that Jado would expect out of a Greek comedy, rather than a ‘civilized’ English dinner party.
The women were trying to take the children out of the room, which wasn’t easy with the youngest boys, particularly Gabriel St. Vincent and Mihai, clamoring to see more of the fight and shouting out words of encouragement to their uncles. They didn’t really care who was ‘winning’, Jado knew, but they were just excited to see something so thrilling. Jado’s own father had taken it upon himself to carry on the task of murdering Jeremy Hunt while Uncle Harry was occupied with the father, while Nicholas Hunt, Rye and Charles Gaultier all struggled to hold the big man off. Uncle Leo and Edward had somehow gotten themselves involved in a heated argument with Russell Bowman, that the rest of the Bowman men, Mr. Matthew Swift and the Earl of Westcliff had turned into a team sport. Dr. Byron Crowley seemed intent only on getting his wife out of the fray, and the rest of the men got in the way under the intention of helping, with varied results.
Finally it was the Duke of Kingston and Uncle Cam, with all their years of working together to end brawls at Jenner’s, the duke’s enormous Scottish son-in-law and Uncle Christopher, with the brutal hand of a war captain, who dove into all the melee and ended it all. The end-result destruction to the Hunts’ elegant entrance foyer was rather extensive, and a quick glance around the room noted that most - no, all of the gentlemen had a black eye or a split lip, or at the very least, a torn neck tie. He flexed his hand, which was bruised and swollen. Who or what had he punched? He hadn’t even remembered throwing a fist.
“That’s bloody enough!” The Duke was breathing hard, spitting fire, but Jado knew that a scene such as this was no rarity or shock to the proprietor of a gaming hall. There was even a spark of a smirk to the duke, and Jado suspected that a scene such as this was what made the evening interesting to him. Wives ran to husbands, intent on checking this or that injury, and his own cousin cradled Jeremy Hunt in her lap with the tenderest of care, as if they were already married, already belonging to one another.
When Aunt Poppy ascertained that her husband had no critical injuries, she stood up with a disdainful look at him. “I would like to speak with my daughter. Privately.”
Jado knelt by his uncle, who was breathing hard with his exertions, and even his father was still slumped over. It seemed that the older men had forgotten their relative ages, and that a formal dress-code brawl might not have been the best course of action for this night.
“Have you gotten it out of your system,” Jado murmured under his breath to Uncle Harry who scowled at him, apparently still too tired to do more than that. “I think you’ve been waiting for years to get your hands on Simon Hunt and give him a good beating - you just needed a good chance to do it. Am I wrong?”
Uncle Harry coughed and then called out to Jado’s father. “Merripen, did you never teach this boy any respect? Where did he learn to think so damn logically?”
Jado’s papa said nothing, only smiled proudly.
In the meantime, Jeremy Hunt had finally hauled himself off the floor, and came to stand in front of Harry Rutledge, his future father-in-law. He offered him a clean handkerchief, but Harry did not reach a hand towards him. “I suppose now might not be the best time to start discussing the specifics of the wedding, but I thought that if-”
“Son,” Simon Hunt called from halfway down the stairs, where he was still sprawled out, nursing his injuries. “Not the time for it. I know it goes against everything I have taught you for your entire life, but...There is a time when it’s best to keep your mouth shut.”
<<<333
Title: Year After Year
Characters: Harry Rutledge, Poppy Rutledge, Claire St. Vincent, Elizabeth Rutledge, Jeremy Hunt, Jado Merripen, Brenna Merripen, Edward Hathaway, Emmaline Hathaway, Russell Bowman, Rye Rohan, Simon Hunt, Sebastian St. Vincent, Kev Merripen
Rating: pg
Word Count: 5,370
Summary: You put your arms around me and I'm home...
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: Random cuts from my 2011 NaNo, Next Generation fic for Lisa Kleypas's Wallflower & Hathaway series. Not all will be posted, but if you have any certain character you would like to see, let me know and I will see what I have (or perhaps write something new in this universe). This is all set about 20 years after the Hathaway series. For your convenience, cast of characters listed here.
“Where are the children?” Harry whispered to Poppy after that infernal supper had finally ended. They were settled in the parlor, with all of the heads of the other families. The younger married couples had stopped in the parlor for a short time, but retired after the babies began to fuss. Now they were just left with just the younger Mr. and Mrs. Bowman and the older people...which Harry had to admit now included himself. He never thought he would see the day.
Poppy smiled gently. “Our daughters are off with people their own age, Harry.”
“Yes, but Elizabeth-”
“Is your daughter,” Poppy interrupted. “And she is never anywhere she does not wish to be.”
Harry scowled.
*
Lady Claire had the most contagious laughter that Elizabeth had ever heard. In the absence of Isabelle Gaultier, she was a deft hostess, and Elizabeth not help but notice the shameless way she flirted with Jado. For, in the best way Elizabeth had ever seen, Lady Claire had absolutely no shame - there was no need for it. It was an admirable quality.
And this was not the easiest crowd to just sit and chat with ease, with the Swift brothers glaring at Rye from across the room and Edward crowding protectively around Emmaline and Jado being so suspicious of Russell Bowman and Jeremy Hunt.
Mrs. Gaultier had spent a bit of time with Elizabeth before she brought her adorable daugher Sophie upstairs to go to sleep. She was enchanting, and nearly blindingly beautiful, very exotic with her black, black eyes and glossy black curls. It was easy to see why a famous artist had fallen in love with her, one could easily paint her face forever and always find a new angle. She had given her brother teasing little looks throughout, as though she were in possession of a great secret.
Jeremy had not left her side. They sat on a settee together, and his knee touched hers, pressing against her skirt and Elizabeth could feel his warmth. He was a big man, and it was difficult to not be aware of the power he had. Her heart had been beating so fast all night, she was surprised it had not pounded straight out of her chest.
Although she tried to engage Emmaline in conversation and Jeremy conversed easily with Rory Bowman and his own brother, she knew that they were completely aware of each other. This was a completely new experience for Elizabeth. Before, she had mildly enjoyed flirting as a pleasant but not terribly exciting pastime. She had never felt this physical reaction, this restless excitement, anticipation...
“Bess?”
She turned to him, laughing softly. “I asked you to stop calling me that.”
He smiled. “I can’t seem to help myself.”
She sighed. “You could put in a bit more effort.”
Jeremy leaned back on the settee, balancing his square jaw on his fist. “I had a question to ask you.”
Her heart raced. “Yes?”
He grinned then, that entirely too amused smile that she was beginning to associate well with him. “There is a linen closet upstairs that I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me to, in order to inspect the lock mechanisms.”
Elizabeth gave him a playful slap on his wrist, and the point that their skin cracked together sent a little spark up her arm. He felt it too, she could see him tense.
“You won’t be sorry,” he said. “This is not a trick, Elizabeth.” There was a plea in his eyes, and Elizabeth got the feeling that he did not very often plead for anything. She stole a glance over to Jado. She would never be able to leave the room with him watching over her. But her cousin was preoccupied for once, in a heated discussion with Edward. And Elizabeth could guess what that was about. She glanced guiltily over to Emmaline, who looked rather miserable in the corner. She glanced back at Jado. Likely, this opportunity would not happen again.
She placed her gloved hand in Jeremy Hunt’s, and when Jado finally looked back in the direction of the settee, it was empty.
*
Elizabeth was more than a little bit breathless after the mad rush up the stairs. Halfway up, Jeremy had put one arm around her waist and half-carried her, while she held tightly to his neck and coat, her feet just slipping over the stairs, barely touching down. When they had reached the top, Elizabeth looked left and then right, without any idea of where he was taking her. “This way,” he whispered, pulling her behind a door and closing it shut behind them.
Elizabeth had to smile to herself. It was indeed a linen closet. It seemed that this would be the special place for the two of them. How very romantic. “Well, if this was your trick, then-”
But she did not finish that thought which wasn’t of much consequence in the first place because as she was turning around, looking at the bedsheets and toweling, Jeremy had turned her in his arms, pulling her head to his and her body flush against his own. He angled her head backwards and she felt his breath, hot over her mouth, but he did not touch his lips to hers, just looked down into her eyes, letting her know all of his intentions.
One month ago, Elizabeth had wanted to kiss someone, anyone, just for the sake of it being done.
Now, she wanted to kiss no one else.
It was her who moved, stood up on her tiptoes to drag his head down to hers, and she pressed her closed mouth to his, feeling his muffled chuckle. “Easy, love, easy,” she thought she heard him say, but he was shaping her mouth to his. He wrapped one arm fully around her waist, lifting her off her feet and cupped her jaw with his thumb and forefinger. She drowned in him. And he laughed. She could not get enough of him. And he laughed. She squirmed against him, too embarrassed to be held so.
“Easy, love, easy,” he repeated, but he did not set her on her feet. “Oh my...what a little tiger you are.”
Elizabeth did not know if she cared for the comparison, and she must have registered outrage on her face because Jeremy laughed and held her face close to his. “No, no, love, not like that,” and he lowered his mouth to hers again, just touching her lips. “Easy, love,” he murmured again. “I could drown in you if I’m not careful...”
That Elizabeth had not been expecting, and then he groaned, “Oh, my Bess,” he groaned again, and this time, when he kissed her, he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to her closed lips. “Easy, love. Open for me, sweetheart.”
She started to ask him what he meant by that, but she was cut off with the unexpected sensation of the flick of his tongue against hers, followed by a sweet, brief kiss to only her lower lip. And when he pulled back this time, there was a hew hunger in his eyes, a hunger that sent a curl of want through her whole body to the tips of her toes. As he took her face in his hands, Elizabeth knew that he was not the only one in danger of drowning. His fingers searched through her carefully arranged hair, loosening it and applying pressure to the base of her skull, and sending trembles through every inch of her skin.
He kissed her senseless. He kissed her until she could not breathe or see. If this was indeed drowning, she would be more than happy to die this death a thousand times over. “Jer...Jeremy,” she sighed, her breath breaking on a moan, and the sound of his own name only seemed to pull him further under.
Finally, when she could not take any more, he let her go, pulling his head up, and she followed him for second before sliding back down his body as he eased his grip on her. He was a full head taller than her with both feet on the ground, and Elizabeth sagged against him, grateful for the support of his strong arms and chest. “We have to go back downstairs,” he whispered, still holding her close and rocking her gently. Elizabeth did not even hear him at first.
And then his words began to sink in, as she came back to herself and her surroundings. She was standing in the arms of a man she hardly knew, in a blasted linen closet in a Mayfair mansion. How had she let this happen to herself? She was ruined.
Everything was ruined. Her sisters, her cousin (how was Emmaline ever going to be able to face Russell Bowman ever again, not to mention the little girls), her parents and her aunts and uncles, and...everything. How could she? “What...what you must think of me,” she tried to keep the mortified desperation out of her voice as she attempted to pull away from him, and she failed miserably (on both accounts).
He was laughing. He was laughing at her again. Elizabeth asked herself again, how could she have allowed this to happen? She was raised far better than this, she knew better than this. “Let me go, please,” she squirmed against him, furious at him for laughing at her, and furious with herself for giving him something at which to laugh.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth...” but he could not keep that damnable mirth out of his voice as he held her tighter, crushing her to him, and holding her immobile, and Elizabeth fought the sting of tears, she could not let him see her cry on top of everything else. “Bess.” So quickly he had seemed to adopt this endearment, that she hated for years, but it sounded so infinitely different coming from his dark, raspy voice. When he saw he had gotten her attention, he cupped her face again and spoke her name softly, reverently. “Bess.” He kissed the tips of her damp eyelashes, and smiled tenderly down at her. “Your entire family is downstairs, and mine too. Do you think my commitment to you is anything less than totally and completely genuine?”
The boldness of his statement stunned her into stillness for a good, long moment. And then she began to laugh, delirious. He took a second to join her, but once he did, she saw tears glistening in his glittering black eyes, and they both laughed and laughed and laughed, him cradling her head to his shoulder and pulling her tight, as if he would never let her go. Elizabeth squeezed him back.
“So all of this was just for me?” Elizabeth said finally, wiping tears from under her eyes, and he took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles.
“Of course, my silly Bess,” he smiled at her. “My father took one look at my mother and knew there would never be another woman like her, and from what I hear, it was the same for your parents.” Elizabeth was silent. That was true, but she did not know how he knew that. “Oh, I have found out quite a bit about you, my sweet Bess.” He said to her quizzical expression.
“How long are you going to keep calling me that?” Elizabeth laughed, even though she had to admit that she was loving the sound of it.
“For the rest of your life.” Though the joy remained on his face, dancing in his eyes, the solemnity of this vow he made to her touched her heart, and she laid her head against his chest. “Easy, love. I’m yours, if you will have me. But please don’t torture me just for play, my Bess.”
“Well I think it’s too late for that,” Elizabeth answered. “I think you know I belong to you and you keep calling me yours anyway.”
“Wishing into existence,” Jeremy kissed her again, lingering for only a moment. She understood. He didn’t want to allow himself to get carried away, but the promise of what was to come, oh there was so much more...
Finally he let her go. “We have to go back downstairs,” he said again.
“What will we do now?” Elizabeth asked.
He grinned, and she knew that he was going to enjoy this. “Hide all of the weapons in the house, and then tell your father.”
*
“Dance with me, brother!” Jado laughed as Brenna flung herself at him, in a flying leap, and he caught her easily, spinning her so that she would giggle madly. There was no music but that didn’t usually stop the Merripens at a party. The baby hugged him back when he stopped spinning and then he felt her sleepy little yawn against his shoulder. “I’m tired, brother. When are we going home?”
“Soon enough, little fairy, soon enough.” He kept his voice light, but he exchanged a worried look with Edward, standing across the room, and worrying his pocket watch between his fingers. Rye was overseeing parlor games between some of the younger children that Jado knew made Anna especially feel just slightly bad, as though she was doing something quite grown-up and therefore forbidden. The Duke of Kingston’s young son, Gabriel, had made fast friends with Jado’s own youngest brother, Mihai, and they were playing as a team in a game of chess against Tali and Rebecca, and Tamas oversaw it all with the seriousness of a master.
But Emmaline had disappeared some time ago, practically on the verge of tears, and Russell Bowman followed soon after, and Elizabeth and Jeremy Hunt had been missing for even longer. They couldn’t possibly go back to their parents with either (or both) girls missing, not without starting a war, especially between Uncle Harry and all of the men in the Hunt family. Dinner had been tense enough, all Uncle Harry had to hear was any inkling that his first daughter was being compromised under Simon Hunt’s roof. And Jado fervently hoped that it was not coming to that.
“How sweet you are with her, my lord,” Lady Claire was a woman who purred. Everything she said came out sounding like someone was scratching her belly in a most pleasant way. Jado turned to her with a polite smile. She had not been an easy woman to ignore, and Jado was somewhat flattered that she seemed to have turned her attention on him, though she would have had far better luck with Edward. Lady Claire gave him a sly wink before she turned down to Brenna. “And how pretty you are, my little lady.”
Jado gently nudged his baby sisters elbow. “What do you say, fairy?”
“Thank you, my lady,” Brenna said sleepily. “So are you.” And Lady Claire laughed merrily at that. Jado got the feeling that she was not modest about how beautiful she obviously knew she was, but appreciated the sweet little sentiment nonetheless.
Brenna yawned against him, and Jado glanced at the clock again, worried. It was getting later - far too late. Soon enough, his mother and maybe his father would come looking for Brenna, and then all would be alerted about the absence of Emmaline and Elizabeth and then...the inevitable. Chaos and duels and this was not a night for bloodshed.
“Oh, the poor dear,” Lady Claire crooned, reaching out a hand to smooth Brenna’s glossy dark hair. “She is up so very late, I’m sure. Why don’t you let her sleep down here for a while?” And Lady Claire moved down the settee, clearing a space large enough for a very small girl to stretch out. It was clear that she was leaving an invitation open for them to take a walk, perhaps off alone by themselves for some time, but Jado had no time for such trivialities at this moment.
“Thank you, my lady,” Jado said, carefully setting his littlest sister down, and quickly turning to confer with Edward, who was growing ever more nervous and tense, removing and replacing his spectacles in that habit he had when he was anxious about something. He glanced past Mirela, playing Statues with the rest of the party guests close to her own age (who were all of her cousins and young Miss Rose Swift), content that she was managing to enjoy herself a bit, even if it was only for a short while this night. She had been so preoccupied since they left Fairwall, that Jado wondered if she had lost her smile, somewhere in the Irish Sea.
“Where are they?” Jado whispered as he reached Edward, who at the same time said in a clear enough voice, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”
Jado exchanged a look with Rye, who was trying so hard to keep the rest of the children distracted, so that Addie would not go looking for her sister as she usually did and Anna would not get any ideas about making trouble for her sister, as she so often seemed tempted to do.
“Let me go look for them,” Jado whispered to Edward.
Edward shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t we split up? You’ll go find Elizabeth and I’ll find my sister.” Jado studied his calm and steady cousin, honestly ready to do murder and shook his head. That would not be a good idea.
“I’ll be quick,” Jado promised, and slipped out of the parlor, with a surprising grace for a man his size. He did not have to go far to find Emmaline, as she and Bowman were just past the parlor, half-hidden behind a curtain. He heard them before he saw them, in particular, he heard his cousin’s soft sobbing, and Jado felt his anger rise, as he heard the harsh tone in Bowman’s voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jado yanked the curtain back sharply and stood over the two of them, tall and forbidding.
“Mornington, if you please, just give us a moment here, man.” He and Bowman had always respected each other, but this, Jado would not stand for.
“You’ve had enough here,” Jado would not be swayed, and he pulled Emmaline away, placing an arm around her shoulder. “Go back to the parlor, go talk to your brother, sweetheart,” he said softly to her, but she didn’t move for a second, looking back at the boy she had loved so much, her lip trembling. “Go, sweet.” He prompted again, placing his body as a shield between her and Bowman. When she finally turned and fled, Jado turned back to Bowman. “You will leave her alone from now on. You won’t break what’s left of her heart.”
“But I-”
“You will not.” Jado was unmoving, and granite when he wanted to be. “Look at you - wasted away when you didn’t get what you wanted, and you continue to torture her. Let her be peaceful, give her a chance to be happy, man.” Jado was mortified to see tears in Bowman’s eyes, and left him to his emotions. Jado was of no good use in such scenes.
He turned left and then right, unsure of which direction to strike out in, in the Hunts’ enormous mansion. Why did the damn place have to be so bloody big? He was about to go off down the darkest hallway, when he heard soft laughter coming from down the stairs. Jado stepped back, out of view, as he watched his dear cousin Elizabeth descending the stairs with Jeremy Hunt, hand in hand. He was whispering in her ear, and halfway down the stairs, Hunt took her waist in his hands, holding her up against the wall and kissing her, fully, with no mistake in the intention of such a kiss. Jado decided he should make his presence known before he witnessed any more.
He stepped out from the shadows, taking care to make much noise with his shoes and ahemming quite loudly, but it still took a long, thorough moment before Hunt broke the kiss, and spun Elizabeth around. His cousin looked properly mortified, but he was quite sure that this was all in Hunt’s designs, as he had not one trace of shame across his face. Jado poised, tense and ready to strike, and before he knew it, he had leapt up the staircase, physically separating his cousin from Hunt with brutal strength. Elizabeth cried out his name, and then Hunt’s, but Jado did not let the bastard go.
“Jado, really, it’s all right,” Elizabeth was trying to pull them apart with all of her strength, but Hunt was surprisingly passive in Jado’s iron grip.
“How is any of this all right,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth, barely able to look at her. “This...this...this pig scum feels it’s perfectly all right to have his hands all over you, is this what you think is all right?”
“Jado, if you will just let us-”
“Yes Jado, let her explain,” Hunt smiled as he pulled his collar out of Jado’s reach. Bastard was always smiling. How did Elizabeth find that attractive?
“You keep your fucking mouth shut, gadjo,” Jado said, bristling at this stranger using his family nickname, and his cousin gasped at his profanity.
“I apologize, Lord Mornington,” Hunt held his hands up in surrender, and Jado tightened his hands into fists at his sides.
“You have precisely one minute, gadjo,” Jado said, and for good measure, pulled his cousin roughly over to his side.
Hunt seemed in no rush though. He whispered over to Elizabeth, “What does ‘gadjo‘ mean?”
“It means ‘white man’,” Elizabeth whispered back.
“Oh, fair enough,” Hunt leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Mornington, I have no intention of letting you tell me my damn business.”
“Wrong answer,” Jado snarled and reached for him again, but Elizabeth reached up to pull him back with surprisingly strong, dainty fists.
As they struggled, Jado hadn’t realized that they had drawn a crowd, but he came to understand that it wasn’t Elizabeth’s surprising strength pulling him back, but her strength combined with Rye’s. Nicholas Hunt was at his brother’s side in another instant, leaning against the wall in the same relaxed pose that Jado realized he would be a fool to underestimate.
“Please don’t tell me that what I think is happening is happening,” Rye whispered in his cousin’s ear.
“Oh, it’s happened,” Jado laid his face in his palm, sighing exasperatedly. He glanced over his shoulder at the open door of the parlor, where all of the younger children had gathered to watch the spectacle. Edward had his arms protectively around each of his sisters and Anna was pushing forward, her eyes wide as saucers. Even Brenna had woken up with all of the excitement, and she was being held against Lady Claire’s shoulder. Jado was momentarily touched by her tenderness with his little fairy.
“Jado, don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical?” Elizabeth had raised her voice, her hands on her hips, in the same posture he had seen his own mother take, and his aunt Poppy, and the rest of the aunties. “This is no less than you’ve done, I’m sure.” Jado said nothing. “And this...this is not some cheap interlude with some...some...” Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in concentration to find a dirty enough word, and Jado saw Hunt’s eyes soften toward her. Not cheap at all. “Blast, Jado, we are going to-”
“I’m going to marry her,” Hunt broke in, and Jado saw that he had moved to be by her side, his hand resting possessively on her waist. Several of the little girls gasped behind him, but Jado did not turn, narrowing his eyes at Hunt.
“I’m warning you, Hunt,” he began, his voice low. “This girl is my family, and I have taken it upon myself to protect her since we were babies.” Jado was several years younger than Hunt, but he was by far the largest man in the room, and he felt confident in his threats.
“And you’ve done a splendid job,” Hunt answered easily. “But I’ll take it from here.”
“Is that so?”
All turned to the other end of the foyer, where their audience had grown considerably. Uncle Leo and Aunt Cat were worriedly looking over at Emmaline, with Aunt Cat looking like she was having trouble not flying across the room to her daughter. Mrs. Hunt looked mortified, and Mrs. Gaultier looked as though she were having a difficult time not bursting out into laughter. All of the others, his aunts and uncles and parents, and the friends of the Hunts all displayed a variety of slack-jawed, shocked expression, but in the center, in the forefront, was his Uncle Harry, being held back by Aunt Poppy and looking ready to commit murder by flaying Jeremy Hunt alive.
Jado turned back to the couple who looked as if under a theatre spotlight, and he was pleased to see that Hunt had the sense to wipe that damn smirk off his face. The bastard even looked a little apprehensive at the rage in Harry Rutledge’s eyes, and with a quick survey around the room, Jado saw all of the men quietly slip into defensive postures, ready to leap into a brawl to either break it up or raise the stakes. His own father had even removed his jacket. Jado hadn’t even seen where he would have put it.
“Mr. Rutledge, I...” Jado saw Jeremy Hunt at a loss for words, possibly for the first time in his life, and even Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. He wished his cousin would look him in the eye. She did not even know this man. What the hell was she thinking?
Then Hunt shifted into his familiar, trademark casual grin. “I had a better plan, you know, sir.” Jado glanced back to his uncle, who resembled a steam kettle just starting to boil. “I am going to marry your daughter. I would like you to be happy about it, because it would make Elizabeth happy. But either way...Elizabeth is going to be my wife.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, boy,” Uncle Harry growled, and a nervous titter went through the children, particularly Brenna (whom Jado hoped had never heard that word before) and Caroline, who had never seen her father like this.
“Rutledge, please,” Simon Hunt flew across the room, blocking Uncle Harry’s path up the stairs to his son. Jeremy Hunt hadn’t moved, Jado noticed. Whatever his bold, disrespectful words had been, it seemed he wasn’t going to to try to avoid the thrashing coming his way. Jado had to respect that, and he knew that his Uncle Harry would as well - eventually.
Simon Hunt tried for his usual levity. “No need for bloodshed tonight, in front of the women and children. Besides, I haven’t any fencing foils in the house for you to-” But Simon Hunt was cut off from the rest of his speech by a sucker punch that sent him flying across the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister, which threatened to crack under the weight. Both his Aunt Poppy and Mrs. Hunt cried out in shock, frozen for a moment.
And then the entire room sprang into action, resulting in chaos that Jado would expect out of a Greek comedy, rather than a ‘civilized’ English dinner party.
The women were trying to take the children out of the room, which wasn’t easy with the youngest boys, particularly Gabriel St. Vincent and Mihai, clamoring to see more of the fight and shouting out words of encouragement to their uncles. They didn’t really care who was ‘winning’, Jado knew, but they were just excited to see something so thrilling. Jado’s own father had taken it upon himself to carry on the task of murdering Jeremy Hunt while Uncle Harry was occupied with the father, while Nicholas Hunt, Rye and Charles Gaultier all struggled to hold the big man off. Uncle Leo and Edward had somehow gotten themselves involved in a heated argument with Russell Bowman, that the rest of the Bowman men, Mr. Matthew Swift and the Earl of Westcliff had turned into a team sport. Dr. Byron Crowley seemed intent only on getting his wife out of the fray, and the rest of the men got in the way under the intention of helping, with varied results.
Finally it was the Duke of Kingston and Uncle Cam, with all their years of working together to end brawls at Jenner’s, the duke’s enormous Scottish son-in-law and Uncle Christopher, with the brutal hand of a war captain, who dove into all the melee and ended it all. The end-result destruction to the Hunts’ elegant entrance foyer was rather extensive, and a quick glance around the room noted that most - no, all of the gentlemen had a black eye or a split lip, or at the very least, a torn neck tie. He flexed his hand, which was bruised and swollen. Who or what had he punched? He hadn’t even remembered throwing a fist.
“That’s bloody enough!” The Duke was breathing hard, spitting fire, but Jado knew that a scene such as this was no rarity or shock to the proprietor of a gaming hall. There was even a spark of a smirk to the duke, and Jado suspected that a scene such as this was what made the evening interesting to him. Wives ran to husbands, intent on checking this or that injury, and his own cousin cradled Jeremy Hunt in her lap with the tenderest of care, as if they were already married, already belonging to one another.
When Aunt Poppy ascertained that her husband had no critical injuries, she stood up with a disdainful look at him. “I would like to speak with my daughter. Privately.”
Jado knelt by his uncle, who was breathing hard with his exertions, and even his father was still slumped over. It seemed that the older men had forgotten their relative ages, and that a formal dress-code brawl might not have been the best course of action for this night.
“Have you gotten it out of your system,” Jado murmured under his breath to Uncle Harry who scowled at him, apparently still too tired to do more than that. “I think you’ve been waiting for years to get your hands on Simon Hunt and give him a good beating - you just needed a good chance to do it. Am I wrong?”
Uncle Harry coughed and then called out to Jado’s father. “Merripen, did you never teach this boy any respect? Where did he learn to think so damn logically?”
Jado’s papa said nothing, only smiled proudly.
In the meantime, Jeremy Hunt had finally hauled himself off the floor, and came to stand in front of Harry Rutledge, his future father-in-law. He offered him a clean handkerchief, but Harry did not reach a hand towards him. “I suppose now might not be the best time to start discussing the specifics of the wedding, but I thought that if-”
“Son,” Simon Hunt called from halfway down the stairs, where he was still sprawled out, nursing his injuries. “Not the time for it. I know it goes against everything I have taught you for your entire life, but...There is a time when it’s best to keep your mouth shut.”
<<<333