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He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Do you know of the superstitions behind eyes like mine?”
“They are presumably like all superstitions—utter nonsense,” Rose replied. Differences like his were usually blamed on demons or devils, but she knew there were no such things upon this Earth. The real demons and devils were in ordinary men, who were spurred on by temptations of the flesh and of taverns and gambling halls.
Lord Langston laughed. “Is that why you are unafraid to hold my gaze, while everyone else turns away?”
“I didn’t realize I was supposed to be afraid,” she said, with genuine uncertainty. “My mother always told me it wasn’t polite to look away while someone is talking to you.”
“What was she like?” Lord Langston leaned forward on his seat, his eyes glittering invitingly, like the shimmering water of a cool pond on a fearsomely hot day.
Rose had not expected that question. “My mother?”
“Yes, I should like to know more of her if you do not mind speaking of her? I know it is difficult to speak of mothers who are no longer here, so do not feel obliged.” He fidgeted, as though nervous. “I should not have asked. I apologize, I spoke without thinking.”
“No, it is quite all right,” she said, hoping to calm his nerves. “I don’t mind speaking about her, although my father never allowed me to talk about her, so I haven’t had much opportunity to keep her memory alive.”
Lord Langston raised his head. “Are you certain? I do not want to put you in an uncomfortable situation.”
“She was, perhaps, the most beautiful woman in all of England—though, being her daughter, I suppose I’m somewhat biased,” she began, so he would know she truly did not mind. “She grew up in a small town outside of Manchester and became a governess in the city when she reached womanhood. There, quite by chance, she happened to be walking along the banks of the Irwell, when she came across a young man who had lost his way.
“That man was my father, and she used to tell me that she saw her entire future in his sweaty, red-cheeked, perplexed face, the moment she laid eyes on him. My mother asked if he needed help, and my father said he was quite all right and knew precisely where he was going. Of course, he didn’t, so my mother took him by the arm and led him back toward the quays.” Rose smiled, for it had been forever since she had told this story to anyone.
Lord Langston nodded eagerly. “Was he on business in Manchester?”
“He was the assistant to a wealthy merchant, whom he later inherited his business from, as the merchant had no family living,” Rose explained. “As thanks to my mother, he asked if he might take her on a walk, though he made up an excuse about wanting to know more about the city. She agreed, and two days later, he proposed. Her own mother and father had already died, and though she adored her employment as a governess, she was never one to pass up an adventure. So, she said yes and came to live with him in London.
“They were married at St. Pancras, and while my father worked on building his merchant business, my mother dealt with all of his administration and accounting.” She paused in thought. “I often wonder if he would’ve been nearly as successful if it weren’t for my mother and her wizardry with mathematics, logistics, and bookkeeping.”
Lord Langston made a sound of approval. “That is quite a feat. I do not know of many ladies who would be capable of such things, much less want to be involved in the business.”
“She wasn’t like other ladies,” Rose replied shyly. “For a time, my mother would even go to the docks with him to help him load his cargo from the ships onto a cart. This was before they had others working for them. The sailors would whistle and jeer, and she would hit them back with scathing retorts that made them howl with laughter. After that, they came to know her as ‘The Pirate Queen,’ though I don’t think she had any hand in piratical endeavors.”
Lord Langston frowned in the low light. “Is this an entirely true story?”
“I swear it,” Rose confirmed. “If you were to go to the London Docks, even now, and ask if they remember her, they’d take off their caps in fresh mourning for the loss of the Pirate Queen. People couldn’t help but fall in love with her.”
“Was she the same after you came along?” Lord Langston asked hesitantly, as though he were telling her something of his own past with his question. Perhaps, thathismother was not the same woman after she gave birth to him.
Superstitions can be cruel.She could not even begin to imagine the insults that had been whispered in his direction because of his wonderful eyes and the “demon” they supposedly represented. It would not have been easy for his mother to ignore that, for high society ladies were the worst gossipers of them all. Even bawds and fishwives did not chatter about others with the same zeal as titled ladies.
Rose smiled. “She was even better.” She told him of how her mother used to take her to the docks to check on shipments, and how she always carried Rose with her wherever she went on her daily business, turning everything into a lesson that would serve her well as she grew older. Mother, governess, confidante, all in one woman.
“And then, she got sick, and I tried to repay the favor. I became her physician and her nurse and her shoulder to lean on. I even tried to help my father with the books, as the company was in trouble, and he was running to-and-fro like a madman, but he refused, saying he would contend with it all himself.”
Lord Langston cleared his throat, as though he had something stuck there. “Was your father there when she died?”
“No… He had gone to the bank to plead for an extension on a loan. He couldn’t have been gone for more than an hour or so, but he returned too late.” She furrowed her brow, for it was a moment she had not dwelled on in many moons. “I was with her. I held her hand and heard her last breath and soothed her until the end.”
And then my father came home, and he roared and screamed and pounded at his chest, pulling out tufts of his own hair because he had been two hours too late to say goodbye to the woman he loved.Rose did not tell Lord Langston that part. Perhaps, she still felt some lingering need to protect her father’s reputation or, perhaps, it was simply too private and painful to share. After all, her father had despised her for being there when he was not, and she knew he had never forgiven her for that.
Lord Langston’s fingertips reached out slightly, as though he wanted to take her hand, but he drew them back immediately. “I am sorry you experienced something so tragic, and that it happened to a lady who sounds as though she was… extraordinary.”
“She was,” Rose agreed. She contemplated asking him about his own family but thought better of it. If he was going to allow his walls to come down, and speak of personal matters with her, then she knew she ought to let him do so in his own time. To try and prompt him would likely urge him to strengthen his walls, instead.
“Thank you for speaking so honestly.” He withdrew into himself, his body language suddenly vulnerable. “You tell a marvelous story.”
“I try, though I don’t know if it’s a better tale or a worse one because it’s true.” The characters were real, and she had lived in their world for twelve years of her life. The story that came after held no joy whatsoever, and it was not the sort of dank and dismal anecdote that she cared to tell, particularly after the unexpectedly lovely excursion they had shared.
He smiled sadly. “It is better for those who are listening, worse for those who are telling.”
