The Ten of Spades

The Scandal-2

I stared at him, appalled. “How can you say this?”

“Because I’m being honest with you, something you can’t seem to be, even to yourself.”

I recoiled, thrown into thought. Was I being dishonest with myself? Surely not.

It didn’t matter how I felt about Joseph Kerr not being with me during all that had happened. It didn’t matter how hard it was for me to understand what people claimed he’d done. I couldn’t pass judgment on him without hearing his side of the story. It would be unfair. “I love him, Jon. I love him with my whole heart. Nothing you say will ever make me stop loving him.”

We sat in silence. Yet I felt a turmoil inside. I did love Joseph Kerr, despite the rumors and accusations. I feared for his safety. I wanted Jonathan to understand.

“If what I said could make you stop loving him it wouldn’t be love,” Jon finally said. “I don’t want you to stop loving him, Jacqui. I just want you to see Joseph Kerr for what he is. So you can know who it is you love. That’s all.”

Mary came in to collect the dishes, and I considered Jonathan’s words. Could it be possible that Joe hid things from me? That I didn’t know him? Could any of these accusations be true?

I remembered that afternoon when I nearly drank myself to death at the thought they might be true, and I shuddered. “I don’t want to return there.”

Jonathan glanced over his shoulder in the direction I stared, at my bedroom. Then he sat beside me and took my hand. “You don’t have to drink to face the reality of life. There are other ways.”

I felt lost. I didn’t know what those other ways were.

Jonathan rose, still holding my hand. “Call your maid, get dressed. I wish to take you on promenade.”

“I’ve been walking all day!”

“Then we’ll go for a drive. Mrs. Dewey!”

I gaped at him. Why was he addressing my servant?

She hurried in and curtsied almost to the floor. “Yes, sir?”

“Make Mrs. Spadros ready. We’re going on a drive.”

She stopped, mouth open, and glanced back and forth. Then she recovered, curtsying low. “Yes, sir, at once, sir.”

There was no blood on my foot wrappings, which pleased Amelia. She re-wrapped my foot in a thinner bandage and cautioned me not to walk further.

When I emerged, Jon said to Amelia, “Pray tell the housekeeper Mrs. Spadros will return after dinner.”

I stared at him, astonished. “Jon —”

“You have been without gaiety long enough. I wish to take your thoughts from trouble and put them on more joyous matters.”

“Well —” I wasn’t sure this was a good idea, with my foot the way it was.

“Then it’s settled. You have your handbag? We’re off.”

Amelia stepped in his way and curtsied low. “Sir, may I speak with Mrs. Spadros one moment?”

He stepped back. “Of course.”

Amelia drew me aside and whispered, “You don’t intend to leave me here?”

“Why should you come? You weren’t invited.”

She seemed confused. “You mustn’t go to public dinner without your maid. It would cause scandal!”

“Amelia,” I said. “After all your protestations about sitting with your betters, you wish to impose upon Master Diamond? I’m surprised at you.”

Amelia gaped at me, eyes wide. “But, mum, you don’t understand. Your husband —”

Tony’s reaction to Madame Biltcliffe’s former shop maid Tenni sitting at the table with us flashed through my mind. “Would be furious at the very idea!” I gestured towards the kitchen, where Mary prepared dinner. “Will you go? Or must I inform her myself?”

Jon stood watching, too far off to hear our conversation. Amelia went crimson. “No, mum.” She vanished into the other room.

Jon said, “Will she not attend you?”

“It’s not necessary.” We had plenty to eat here. Or she could eat at Spadros Manor as she usually did. “All will be well.”

Jon’s eyes widened, but he opened the door for me. “Well ... if you’re certain.”

“Absolutely.” My foot did hurt a bit, but surely the carriage wasn’t far.

Jonathan Diamond’s white and silver carriage sat parked on the corner twenty yards to the right. “They asked us not to park on your street,” Jon said, “as it’s too narrow for others to pass.”

I’d wondered where it had been.

Jon’s footman was a serious-looking man a bit darker-skinned than myself wearing the white livery of the Diamond Family trimmed in silver. The footman never glanced at me, but said to Jon, “Do we await any others, sir?”

Jon hesitated. “No.”

“As you wish, sir.”

We got in, sitting side by side. The horses’ hooves rang on the gray cobblestones as we set off.

“Your carriage is so warm,” I said. “How is it done?”

Jonathan grinned. “My grandfather’s invention. It runs on a dry-cell battery.”

I didn’t understand, and I supposed it showed, because Jon said, “It needs no wires, nor even a generator. The mechanism holds electricity inside itself for later use.”

“Oh.” I felt impressed. “How ingenious!”

The sun shone pale between the rooftops and alleyways as we passed. We turned onto 24th, then onto the main road toward Market Center.

Streetlights were being lit. Shops began lighting their lamps inside. Workmen and shop maids trudged along. As we approached the Pot, the Hedge loomed in the distance, coming closer, then flanking the road on either side.

I thought of my people, still caged behind wrought iron. Still living in squalor. “This part of the city reminds me of what we’ve lost, Jon. All of us.”

“I know.” Jon squeezed my hand, then winced, rubbing a spot on his chest. “So tell me true: what would you enjoy? Shall we visit the river? I believe we have warmer days ahead. Perhaps we could take my boat out.”

Our carriage drove onto the wide stone bridge towards Market Center. “That sounds wonderful! How have I never seen your boat?”

“I’m not much of a sailor.” Jon shrugged. “I’ve never given it much thought. My mother gave it to me when I came of age.” At that, he glanced away.

That would have been a year or so before Mrs. Rachel Diamond’s terrible accident.

Jonathan said, “But with all my duties, I rarely have chance to take it out. I let my men use it from time to time.” Then he winked, flashing a wry smile. “For the Business.”

I grinned at him, making my face all innocence. “How would I possibly know what you mean, sir?”

Jon laughed full out then, until he winced.

“Is something wrong?”

He shrugged, not meeting my eye. Then he let out a cough, wincing as he did so. “Perhaps a twinge of pleurisy. I’ve had it before: it’s most annoying.” He took a heating pad from a pouch in the carriage-wall and pressed it to his chest. “The heat helps.”

“My poor dear. But you feel otherwise well?”

“Of course! Don’t let this worry you.”

The carriage stopped in front of the restaurant we’d often had luncheon at during the trial, a favorite for the police. Jon returned the heating pad to its pouch in the door. “Wait here. Keep the curtains closed.”

He closed the door; I put my injured foot up on the black velvet bench seat across from me.

For weeks after the trial, reporters flocked to my home, asking for interviews, wanting my photo. Blitz made it sound as if there were a waiting list, offering to “get them to the front of the line” — for the right price. That did help with Yuletide, and with the year’s order for my morning tea.

At the time, I had no lover. Yet I wished for no children. Twice, men had tried to violate me, and the cost for the tea my mother had given me was worth the peace of mind.

Amelia was scandalized when she heard of the bribery, but her opinion didn’t bother Blitz in the slightest. “If these men are silly enough to offer a bribe,” he’d said, “I’m silly enough to accept it.”

But eventually even that stopped, and Tony’s dollar a month didn’t go as far as I liked. Looking back, I don’t think Tony had any notion whatsoever of how much things cost.

Jon tapped the window, which startled me. The door opened. “It’s safe.”

People walked past, but I saw no sign of Spadros men, rogue or otherwise. So I followed Jon into the restaurant.

The place was much the same as before: wood-paneled walls, large windows before an outdoor patio. We were taken to a small curtained back room much like what they had at the Ladies’ Club. As we passed those dining, we were the subject of not a few stares and whispers. Some of the stares weren’t friendly.

The room could be seen through the diaphanous white curtains, lit by an electric chandelier over the table. Market Center seemed to have the most reliable Magma Steam Generator in the city: the island had not once lost power.

We sat at the large round table facing the curtains, a seat between us. The waiter took our drink order — tea for us both. Although the sheer curtains were drawn, I could see — and feel — the stares in our direction. “How the tongues will wag tonight.”

Jon seemed startled. “You think so?”

He invited me, so I assumed all was proper. Had he not thought this through? “Let me see ... my husband and I have not been seen together in public since the trial, not even at the Yuletide Spectacle. I don’t appear at the Grand Ball —”

Tony had asked me, Jonathan had asked me, even Mr. Charles Hart had asked me. Which was within his rights, as that year’s host for the Ball. But I had refused them all.

“— or the Celebration of the Coup. And I’m seen in society for the first night since the trial ... with you.” I gave him a thin smile.

Jon put his hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry, Jacqui. I didn’t consider how this might look. Should we go?”

I chuckled. “Of course not!” I raised my voice, staring at those staring back until they turned away. “Let the tongues wag — I have nothing left to hide.”

That was true enough. The trial had laid every scandal bare — my business, my homeland, the details of my marriage. The only thing which hadn’t been exposed was my dalliance with Joseph Kerr. Which, if what Doyle Pike’s grandson Thrace said were true, could be revealed at any moment or used to Doyle Pike’s advantage. And of course, Roland, Tony’s illegitimate son by Jon’s sister Gardena.

The boy’s true identity was a secret I hoped would never come to light, for everyone’s sake.

Jonathan opened his menu, and so did I, but I’d been here so many times I already knew what I wanted. “Don’t fret yourself, Jon. All will be well. I’m grateful you thought to give me a night out.”

Jon took a sip of tea. I so loved the sight of his dark, dark skin against the white china. He glanced up as the waiter entered. “I think we’re ready to order.”

After the waiter left, I mentioned the Golden Bridges article about his brothers. “What happened?”

“Your news report told it in as much detail as I know. Other than which brother received the blow.” He gave a grimace.

“Surely it wasn’t you?”

Jonathan let out a short laugh. “No, I wasn’t even there. Betony insists on trying to make peace, while Cesare desires nothing more than to show his contempt for everyone. Betony stepped in between my other brothers, and was hurt for it.” Then he shrugged. “At least, that’s what he told me.”

“Oh, Jon ... was he hurt badly?”

“Nothing chipped ice won’t solve. But I fear for them all.”

He seemed to struggle with what to say, and I remained silent.