XXIX

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"Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper." Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White

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XXIX.

"On the ground floor there is a very comfortable drawing room and sunroom, a dining room, a parlour, and a sizeable study and library. There is a master's suite of rooms, as well as three additional bedrooms above stairs. Downstairs boasts a generous kitchen as well as servants' quarters."

Jack looked around the Mayfair townhouse with admiration. It was, of course, not as large as Ashwood House or Ashwood Place, but it was a sizable family home in a desirable and safe part of London that he could afford. The rooms were large and bright, and the location was ideal, and very close to the space he had leased for his publishing business.

The house was comfortably furnished, but there would be some pieces that Claire would need to choose. The minute his mind naturally shifted to Claire, Jack felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

"I think this will do nicely," Jack told the leasing agent. "And it was two hundred guineas per annum?"

The agent nodded. "Yes, milord. I shall have the contract drawn up for you post haste and sent to Ashwood Place."

"Thank you." Jack was led out of the house and the agent locked the door behind him.

The two gentlemen separated, with the agent climbing into a hired carriage and Jack walking on foot back towards Ashwood Place. Jack hoped that the news he had secured a home for their relocation to London would please Claire. He needed to return with good news, or something that would endear himself to her.

He had been a right coward for nearly two months now. In fact, it was now March, which meant that it had been two months since Jack had seen Claire. Jack had written to her, of course, and had received some brief replies, but he knew he had done wrong.

Jack had been in London for business. He had spent the last eight weeks procuring equipment, renting his business space, hiring a few printers, and finally securing a home. While it was only a thirty-mile journey from London to Ashwood, Jack had been reluctant to make the trip knowing he had left Claire poorly. Poorly was perhaps an understatement. They had quarrelled for the first time, and Jack had been a right ogre to Claire. He had stormed out of the house that very hour.

***

January 2, 1810

Two months earlier

Jack had observed Claire's odd behaviour for nearly two full days. She seemed on edge and nervous, anxious even. He would have attributed it to her condition, however whenever they talked of the baby, she never seemed afraid.

Something else was bothering her.

Before dinner that evening, when everyone had gone upstairs to change, Jack let himself into Claire's dressing room. She was alone and had not rung the bell for a servant to help her. She was sitting at her dresser fiddling with something in her hand. It was small and silver, and as it moved, Jack heard a soft twinkling sound, as though there were small bells attached to it.

"Claire?"

Claire had obviously not heard him enter the room, and she jumped from fright. She turned in her chair to face him and she placed a hand on her chest as though she was trying to settle her pulse.

"I do apologise," he uttered. "I should have announced myself."

"No, no, don't be silly," Claire assured him. And she smiled at him in earnest, and Jack felt his chest tighten.

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