Page 64 of A Taste of Miss Honey

Chapter 20

A New Beginning, An Ending, and the Future.

The Vicarage, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 28th March 1816

“Black Jack Baxter?”

Ben stared at her, eyes wide with shock. Izzy tried to look innocent but suspected she had failed badly; the desire to preen at his astonishment was just too tempting.

“Yes,” she said, and took a sip of her tea.

They were sitting in the wonderfully cosy parlour of the vicarage, having fled London before the scandal overtook them. Her father sat in his favourite chair by the fire, utterly delighted to have Izzy and Clementine back, with Lord Beaumarsh and… Boreas. Ben had been startled by the warmth of his welcome to the family, but Reverend Honeywell had taken the news of their engagement in his stride, not looking the least bit surprised, which made Izzy wonder if she had been as clever in hiding Ben as she’d thought. One could never tell with Papa. He had always believed in all his daughters. He had, in fact, been far more confident of their abilities than they themselves had ever been and had allowed them far more leeway than any normal parent, though it seemed Papa had his secrets too. Whilst the family had suspected his involvement with secret information during the war, he’d never admitted it until now. They were all prouder of him than they could express but, with his usual modesty, he had deflected their admiration.

“I’d say I can’t believe it, but the dreadful thing is, I can,” Ben said, shaking his head. “She took lessons in pirating. It all makes perfect sense now.”

“Yes, well, don’t provoke her too much, the old devil taught her to shoot too,” her father said with a chuckle, his pride unmistakable. What a wonderful fellow he was, Izzy thought with a swell of affection. What other man would take such pleasure in announcing such a thing, or in welcoming a man he knew to be a notorious smuggler into the family?

Izzy bit her lip as Ben stared at her incredulously. She shrugged, rather delighted by the admiration kindling in his eyes. “I admit, I was a little disappointed I didn’t get the chance to shoot Lord Alveston. He deserved it for almost killing you. But beating him at cards and exposing him as a cheat was certainly a close second.”

Ben gave a bark of laughter, and then fell silent, his brow furrowed. He gazed at Izzy and narrowed his eyes at her. “Wait. Two tricons of seven do defy the odds… my God, did you cheat?”

Izzy sipped her tea and reached for one of the delicious biscuits Mrs Adie had put out for them. “Only a bit,” she said placidly.

Everyone gazed at her in mute astonishment, apart from her father, who merely chuckled. “Well, well,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “Well, well.”

Izzy glanced at Clementine, who looked torn between hugging her and shaking her until her teeth rattled.

“Well,” she said tartly, glaring at Izzy. “I suppose I should thank my lucky stars that I knew nothing about any of it.”

Izzy snorted. “Oh, don’t give me that. You knew I was up to something, you said as much.”

“There is a difference between suspecting you were carrying on an ill-advised love affair with an unsuitable man and discovering you intended to unmask a French spy in front of the entire ton,” Clementine said, not quite able to smother the shrill note of terror beneath her words. She sighed, smoothing out her skirt before turning back to Izzy. “Still, all’s well that ends well, and I am glad…Oh, love, I’m so very glad you are happy and safe, but don’t ever do anything like that again!”

She held out her arms to Izzy, who willingly set down her cup and went to embrace her sister. “Thank you, Clemmie. For everything. For being so splendid and patient about my debut, especially when I was such a trial to you.”

“Nonsense,” Clementine said, sniffing vigorously. “You’re my s-sister. There’s nothing I wouldn’t d-do for you.”

With that, she dissolved into tears and Lord Beaumarsh went to her, soothing her gently.

“There, there, my love. Everyone’s safe, everyone is well. Don’t fret.”

Papa smiled fondly at the scene, looking dreadfully pleased. “Ah, my dear. I’ll fetch you a drop of barley water. Your mama used to swear by it when she was increasing. She was always terribly emotional in the early months. Have a biscuit too, it will make you feel better,” he advised gently, as he got to his feet and hurried out to fetch the drink for her.

Clementine gazed after him in blank amazement. “Oh, drat the man!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Just for once, I thought to surprise him.”

Too delighted by the news that she was to be an aunt, Izzy could only laugh.

The Crow’s Nest, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 30th March 1816

Angel went to her wardrobe and searched through the lovely array of bright colours until she reached the back. Not heeding the tears that rolled down her face, she reached for the gown she had dreaded seeing again, bought for the funeral of her aunt, her father’s sister, who had died last autumn. The stark black fabric rustled as she pulled it out and flung it down on the bed.

Her stomach twisted into a tight ball of misery as she gazed at it, and Angel threw herself down on the bed beside the horrid thing and sobbed. Black Jack had forbidden her to mourn him. He’d said he would have a fine time, dancing with his beloved Jenny under the devil’s watchful eye. He’d told her to wear red or whatever bright colour she chose, not black, but he had not understood the power of society, the way the rules restrained her, restricting her from doing what she wanted to do. He had never comprehended how tightly they chained her in place, demanding her good behaviour, ensuring she did exactly as she was told. Not that she ever had. She had pushed at the rules, bent them badly, and sometimes got away with ignoring them, but she could never forget they were there, could never pretend they did not apply to her.

The door opened and her mother came in.

“Oh, my love,” she said, hurrying to Angel and gathering her into her arms. Mama rocked her, as she’d done when Angel was a child, enveloping her in the familiar scent of lavender. “I’m so sorry, Angelica. Truly, I am. But it was his time. He was ready to go, much as he didn’t want to leave you.”

“I know,” Angel sobbed, knowing it was selfish of her to want him to stay when he was in pain and so very tired. “But I shall m-miss him so dreadfully.”