The Substitute Countess. Lyn Stone
is she?”
Jack cleared his throat. “Daughter of the former earl. Of Elderidge. Remember I told you I was going to fetch her home from Spain?”
Mrs. Ives reached behind her to grasp the countertop with both hands. “Then you were not jesting, Jack? Do not play with me,” she warned. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you inherit that title or no?”
“Indeed I did, Mum. I told you there was no other male heir.”
“You jackanapes, I never took you seriously!”
“Well, you may this time. I am the earl and Laurel is my countess. She has no more experience with the nobles than I do, you see, so we decided to muddle through it all together.”
“My God. I think I might faint,” the woman declared, clenching her eyes shut and pressing a hand to her chest.
“Steady on, old girl!” Jack said, laughing. “Here. Let me close shop for you and we’ll go up and have a chat. Where’s Mr. Ives today?”
“Gone for the week to purchase stock,” she murmured, taking Jack’s arm as he led her to the stairs. “Will you stay the night, dear? Please?”
Jack looked over his shoulder at Laurel with apology in his eyes and a plea for understanding. She nodded emphatically.
“Of course, Mum, we’ll stay if you like,” he replied.
Laurel realized right away why Jack had looked a bit crestfallen at having to stay with his mother. There was only the one bedroom and a small parlor above stairs.
Mrs. Ives had declared on the way up that she and Laurel would occupy the bedroom and Jack would be relegated to the sitting room couch.
Laurel was a bit disconcerted by that herself. The longer they put off making their marriage real, the more she worried about it.
Mrs. Ives regained full voice in good time, and over tea, Laurel learned much about Jack’s early life through tales of his derring-do as a lad. She laughed even as her heart melted, seeing the lovely relationship that still existed between mother and son.
When she and the woman retired for the night, Mrs. Ives insisted that Laurel call her Mum as Jack did.
“He won’t be an easy one to live with,” she warned Laurel in a near whisper. “Jack has trouble being still, you see. Never a quiet moment around him, I swear. How he ever managed all his energy aboard ship for weeks and months at a time, I can’t imagine.”
Laurel could well imagine it. He probably had spent the time diving in after errant lads who fell overboard or climbing to the top of the mast. If there had been battles, he would have thought so much the better, but she said none of that to his mother. Instead, she tried to ease the woman’s mind about Jack’s future.
“Perhaps he has done with the sea, ma’am. He will have lands to manage now.”
The mother looked doubtful. “His da was a born seaman and did his best to make one of Jack. It’s probably in the blood anyway, so I daren’t hope you’re right.”
Laurel dared. “He is your son, too, you know.”
Mrs. Ives smiled and turned down the bed covers. “So he is and I do so wish him happy, above anything. You as well, child.”
“You have missed him, haven’t you, all these years he’s been away? Please say you’ll come and visit us often once we’re settled. You and Mr. Ives will be most welcome at any time.”
“What a dear little thing you are and so thoughtful. Jack’s chosen well, I think.”
Laurel certainly hoped so. Thus far, they got along well. And she admitted there had been a mighty attraction on her part right from the beginning.
The next morning Laurel donned her gray gown again in preparation for their journey to London. Jack’s mother had other ideas. As they drank their tea in the shop, she pleaded with Jack to stay one more day.
He hesitated and Laurel knew why. It was high time they consummated their marriage and could hardly do so in the confines of his mother’s living quarters. Laurel smiled at him and gave a small shrug to say she didn’t mind if he wanted to visit longer.
“I hate to impose longer,” he said, but finally acquiesced when Mrs. Ives insisted they stay. “Very well, one more day,” he agreed. “But then we really must go on.”
His mother beamed. “All right, but as penance for rushing your visit, you must come with me this evening. It will be the perfect practice for you, Laurel, before you get to London!” she exclaimed. “And I confess, I would enjoy showing off my new daughter.”
Laurel could tell that he didn’t want to disappoint his mother in any way, perhaps because he had spent so much time away from her. “Where are we going that’s so important?”
“To the Theatre Royal! I had planned to go one evening this week anyway. The Olander Company is doing Hamlet and our own Rose Madson is to play Ophelia! Tonight is opening night and the entire town should turn out.”
“Who is Rose Madson?” Jack asked.
“My good friend Emma Madson’s daughter, of course.” She flapped a hand. “You wouldn’t remember her, I suppose. I think she was born about the time you went to sea with your father. She was such a lovely girl. Her parents were so upset when she ran off to London to become an actress, but you can imagine how proud they are now she’s performing in her own town!”
Laurel couldn’t imagine it at all. It must be a parent’s worst nightmare. She had heard about actresses. Perhaps her information was a bit skewed, however, considering where she had gotten it. Her curiosity was piqued. “I do love Shakespeare,” she said, hoping Jack would allow them to go. “I’ve never seen a play before, but I’ve read Hamlet so many times.”
He looked speculatively at her as she waited for his answer. “I suppose we could. It might be better for you to begin with an outing more modest than some London event.” He nodded. “We shall go then.”
Mrs. Ives clapped her hands. “Wonderful! You will love the theatre, Laurel. It opened five years ago and I’ve only been the once. The building itself is so grand, I’ll wager it’s as posh as anything London has to offer.”
“I look forward to it.” She truly did, but wondered what it would be like with crowds of people and all the noise. Plymouth was the largest town she had ever visited and the passengers and crew of the ship, the most numerous crowd she had yet encountered.
While Jack went out to arrange their transportation to London for the following day and purchase tickets for the play, Laurel spent the hours helping his mother in the chemist shop.
Mrs. Ives proved good company, bragging on Laurel each time a customer came in. She assigned her small tasks anyone could do and then praised her efforts as if Laurel were the most amazing apprentice ever. They kept busy until the hour arrived to get ready for the evening.
Laurel donned her white frock and added the ribbons to her hair. Mrs. Ives was busy digging inside a trunk beside the wall. “Ah! Here it is!” She stood and approached Laurel. “Wear this,” she said, draping a soft, blue-and-white paisley shawl around Laurel’s shoulders. “Jack’s father brought it to me as a gift once when he’d been away for nearly a year. If you like it, I want you to have it.”
The soft, finely woven wool felt as supple as silk. “I’ve never felt such a wonder!” Laurel said, breathless, as she smoothed the delicate folds over her shoulder. “I’ll treasure it always.” She gave Mrs. Ives an impulsive hug. “Thank you so very much.”
“It’s only a shawl!” Mrs. Ives said, laughing and patting Laurel’s back. She stood back, looked at her and tweaked one of the ribbons in her hair. “My girl needs pretty things.”
It wasn’t the lovely gift that warmed Laurel’s heart, but the sentiment behind it.