Moss Manor, page 29
The conversations quickly return, and in time, everyone excuses themselves for the night.
Once the house is silent, Lady Moss slips William’s letters under everyone’s doors so they will find them in the morning. She grabs her shawl and makes her way outside, wanting to enjoy being in the silent evening. As she wanders around toward the barn, Lady Moss continues toward it when she observes a light in the distance.
“What are you doing, Mr. Jackson?”
“Just getting more wood ready for the morning,” he replies.
“I see that,” she says. “You are allowed to enjoy the night.”
“I am,” he replies.
She watches him for several moments. “I have something for you.”
He stops what he’s doing and studies her.
His letter is the only one she held onto, planning to deliver it in person.
“Something from William, actually,” she clarifies. With a few steps, she’s before him. “A letter.”
Mr. Jackson looks at it for a second before taking it. “A letter?”
She nods.
“About what?” he asks.
“How am I to know?” she replies. “It’s from William.” When Mr. Jackson glances down at his name, she adds, “It’s his handwriting.”
“I see that,” he confirms.
“I’ll leave you,” she offers.
“Why?”
Her mouth hangs uncertain of what to say.
“I don’t mind you being here,” he states.
She glances down at the tips of her boots. “I thought you might want to be alone to read it.”
“Why?”
She shrugs and refuses to look at him.
“You know what’s in the letter,” he states more than questions.
Lady Moss hesitantly looks up at him. “Perhaps.”
He waits to see if she’ll explain. When she doesn’t, he opens the letter.
She gives him a minute to read it before saying, “The boy wishes to call you Papa.”
Mr. Jackson folds the paper and tucks it into his pocket. “So, it says.”
“Your thoughts on the matter?”
“You‘re his mother,” Mr. Jackson reminds. “I’d much rather know your thoughts on it.”
She turns enough so he can’t see her whole face. “I’m not surprised by the request.” Lady Moss chances a glance before adding, “He wanted to know how I felt before he asked for me to give it to you.”
“Why is that?” Mr. Jackson asks, taking a step toward her.
“To make sure it did not upset me.”
“Did it?”
She lets out a nervous giggle. “If it had, do you think I would have given you the letter myself?”
Mr. Jackson bobs his head as he studies the ground. “He is a good boy…a smart boy.”
“He is,” she agrees.
“I do love the boy.”
A smile surfaces on her face. “I know.”
Mr. Jackson closes the gap between them and takes a hold of her hand. “I would be honored to be his father.”
“Good,” she says, stepping away from him.
Mr. Jackson catches her elbow, preventing her from getting away. “Abigail.”
She looks at him hesitantly though expectantly. He has never called her by her first name.
“There is only one way I will agree to it.”
“You would wish to upset Will—“
“I’ve known since the day we met,” he states. “That there was more to you than just your beauty. It was the first thing I noticed when I saw you step off the train.”
Her brows furrow as she listens carefully.
“Your wicked tongue—“
“What of it?” she asks heatedly. “You were the one who—“
“Bewitched me,” he continues, ignoring her. “The stubbornness you exude—“
“Why are you—“
“Exemplifies your rugged determinedness and solidifies your success at business.” He brushes a strand of her hair away from her face. “Your kindness towards a boy from the streets who would have died was the last action by you for me to know.”
“Know what?” she asks when he doesn’t continue.
“That I love you,” he declares.
She sucks in a breath, shocked to hear those words uttered from his lips. “What does that have to do with allowing William to call you Papa?”
“Marry me,” Mr. Jackson requests. “Marry me and I will most happily be his father.”
“Is—“
“You don’t wish to upset William, do you?”
Her head jerks back. “Those are harsh words, Mr. Jackson.” She swallows hard and avoids looking at him for a moment, worried to admit out loud her desire.
“Abigail?”
“Yes,” she mumbles.
“Will you—“
“I said yes,” she states more sternly.
Mr. Jackson cups her chin and kisses her. “Then, I am most honored to be his father and the luckiest man alive.”
“Good,” she says, stepping away, nervous by their embrace.
Mr. Jackson snatches her by the waist, stealing another kiss. Lady Moss relents as her body ignites with the very fire she described to the Baroness on her wedding day. Neither of them speak as he pulls her close.
“I…I should return to the house,” she declares timidly.
“If you must.” He keeps his arms wrapped around her.
“I…I must,” she replies as the warmth in her cheeks heightens.
“To tell William?” he asks with a smile.
“Heavens no,” she giggles nervously as she pulls away from his embrace.
Mr. Jackson frowns.
“Because if you…I would….”
“What are you on about?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Keep your distance, Mr. Jackson,” she warns as he approaches.
“Why? We are to be—“
“Because I will want to do things that only married people do, Mr. Jackson.” Her lips curl inward, shocked by her admittance. Lady Moss’ eyes dart to the ground.
Mr. Jackson chuckles, pleased by her inability to curb her thoughts before speaking them.
“What amuses you?”
“You,” he replies.
“You mock me?”
When she takes a step away from him as he moves closer, Mr. Jackson says, “Not at all.” He pins her against the wall. “I fancy your thoughts and appreciate the truth.” His lips claim hers once more.
Lady Moss’ hands clutch his jacket as her body yearns for more contact. She’s left panting when Mr. Jackson suddenly ends their contact.
“We’ll tell the boy in the morning,” he states.
Lady Moss nods. “And, the rest of the family?”
“Not until William knows,” he affirms.
“I agree.”
Mr. Jackson walks away, out beyond the doorway.
Lady Moss trails her fingers along her lips as she smiles. The events that have transpired flurry through her thoughts as her body ignores the bite of the cold air.
“Come,” he directs, moving hastily toward her. Mr. Jackson takes a hold of her hand and motions for her to follow.
“I may be an uncanny woman, Mr. Jackson, but I still have my wits about me not to—“
“Tea,” he says.
“Tea?”
He nods as he leads her to the closest door that enters directly into the manor. “You need tea to warm up.”
She doesn’t comment as he leads her into the kitchen and prompts her to take a seat. Mr. Jackson tends to the pot, not saying a word the entire time. He places two cups in front of her along with milk and sugar.
“Drink,” he directs as he pours the water.
“I am not a child, Mr. Jackson,” she scolds.
“Nor am I, woman,” he huffs.
She sits more upright in the chair with a hint of defiance. After a moment, her hand extends out toward the mug. Mr. Jackson tentatively reaches over. His rough, calloused fingers graze over her knuckles before the warmth of his hand softens the coolness of the air.
They sit in long, comfortable silence, sipping their tea as they keep one of their hands interlocked.
“We should discuss the matter of William’s name,” she announces suddenly.
“What of it? It is a fine name. Why should the boy—“
“He will become a Jackson as well,” Lady Moss declares.
Mr. Jackson’s lips turn upward to the side. “I’d like that.”
“The manor—“
“Should stay as Moss,” he infers.
She stares at him with a hint of shock.
“It sounds better,” he says with his smile growing.
Her head bounces from side to side. “It does.”
“What of Sutton Manor?” he asks.
“I have yet to figure that out,” she replies with a chuckle. “We could—“
“No,” he counters.
“But—“
“It is not mine nor will it be,” he reminds. “I’m sure Baron Hasworthy or the Baroness will have suggestions.” Mr. Jackson shifts closer.
“We should get some sleep,” she suggests reluctantly. “We will have a long day tomorrow once the family finds out.”
“Finds out what?” Mr. Moss asks appearing in the doorway.
Lady Moss darts to a standing position. “Everything alright, Papa? Do you need—“
“I’m fine,” he replies, entering the kitchen further. “Just came for—“
“A piece of pie,” she says, moving swiftly to fix a plate for him.
He grunts approval. “I saw William’s letter.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Did you have a roll in it?”
Lady Moss turns and hands her father the plate and a fork. “Not at all. William is—”
Mr. Moss looks over at Mr. Jackson who has been standing since Mr. Moss arrived. Then, he notices the cups on the table and the proximity of the chairs where they were sitting. “Was I interrupting something?”
“What, Papa?” Lady Moss replies.
“Nothing,” he says taking his desert.
“If you make a mess, you’ll be the one to clean it up,” she reminds.
“I’m a grown man,” he states.
“Sneaking down for pie isn’t acting like one,” she accuses playfully.
He eyes her for a moment. “Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas,” she replies, kissing his cheek.
Once he’s gone, Lady Moss waits a few extra seconds before returning to her previous spot. She doesn’t sit and instead gather’s the cups to wash them.
“Leave them,” Mr. Jackson requests.
“Who will—“
He pulls her into him. “Stay…just a little longer.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Where’s William?”
“He’s been running around here, Miss,” replies Nydia, following behind her down the main staircase. “It’s easy to lose track of him.”
William’s playful screams are heard, rapidly approaching.
“William,” she calls.
When he appears, he replies, “Yes, Mama?”
“It’s time for studies,” she reminds.
“But, Papa said there were none today,” he argues. “He needs me to—“
“Your father is not in charge of the manor,” she reminds.
“Says who?” Lord Jackson quips, entering the foyer.
“Says your wife,” she declares, approaching the lower level. Her foot hovers just above the last step.
“You alright, Miss?” Nydia inquires.
Lord Jackson rushes toward her. “What’s wrong?”
Lady Jackson lets out a slow, controlled breath as she looks down at her feet. “William, dear. Have Mr. Joel fetch the doctor.”
“What is wrong, Abigail?” Lord Jackson inquires nervously.
She tries to offer a consoling smile as the pain in her belly returns. “The baby is coming.”
He stares at her for a long moment.
“Mrs. Doyle! Iris! Mrs. Joel!” Nydia calls out as she takes Lady Jackson’s free hand.
“I am alright, Theodore,” she replies, seeing the contention in his face. “The baby has decided to grace us with her presence.”
“Or his,” he states.
“Does it honestly matter what gender the baby is?” she asks.
“Not at the moment,” he chuckles. “But it will when he is born.”
“You’re more concerned over our bet rather than—“
“I am most concerned about the health of you and the baby,” he says, taking her arm. “Let’s get you back upstairs.”
“Mr. Joel is on his way,” William announces, rushing back inside as Lady Moss manages to get halfway back up the staircase.
“Thank you, dear,” she replies.
“What should I do now, Mama?”
“Fetch Mrs. Warren,” Mr. Jackson instructs.
“Got it,” William agrees, exiting out through the front door once more.
Before dinner, Lady Moss gives birth to a baby boy. Mr. Jackson gloats, proud to have two sons.
“When can we have another?” Lord Jackson asks.
“Eager to win another bet?” Lady Jackson inquires.
He chuckles. “No.”
“I did not expect you of all people to be fond of children,” she says.
“I was fond of William since the day we met him,” he reminds.
“Babies are quite different,” she states.
“You may now have yourself a daughter,” he says with a grin.
“I may, may I?” she scoffs.
“I am content with whatever we have,” he replies. “More children are my preference.”
“More will have to wait a little while.”
Mr. Jackson frowns. “Not too long.”
“You’re as bad as Charles,” she giggles.
“What do you mean?”
Lady Jackson shakes her head. “I meant nothing by it.”
“What foul things have been escaping from your and Mrs. Warren’s tongues?”
“The same that comes from men,” she teases.
“No more,” he objects.
“Pardon?”
“I will pardon you for the past, but with this one,” he says raising his arms that contain the baby. “No more wicked tongue from you.”
“Says who?”
“Says your husband,” he commands.
“Says the husband who gets a pleasing rile from it,” she goads.
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t deny it.
“What shall we name him?” she asks, changing the subject.
“We could name him after your father,” he states. “He was the first to give us his blessing.”
“He gave it when there was no evidence of—“
“Wasn’t there?” he challenges.
“What are you saying, husband?”
“I knew you liked me before our first trip to see your family,” he claims.
“Took you long enough to propose,” she teases.
“Your cryptic tongue wasn’t easy to study,” he replies.
“Intrigue, Lord Jackson,” she says with a smile. “A lady should never appear too eager.”
“You knew that day, didn’t you?”
“Knew what and what day?” she asks, smoothing out the blankets covering her.
“The day we returned from surveying the land when you said the very same thing to Reuben,” he reminds.
“What are you eluding to, dear?”
“That you were fond of me then,” he states.
She giggles. “I was fond of you from the moment we met. However, that was not the day I realized I was in love with you.”
“What day was it?” he asks, sitting down next to her.
Lady Jackson smiles at the baby as it takes a hold of her finger.
“Please,” he begs softly.
Their eyes meet for a long moment.
“I realized by the time Mr. Warren implied it the day we found William,” Lord Jackson admits.
“The Warrens like to meddle,” she huffs.
“Says the spinster-devil pirate-witch,” he chuckles.
She offers a warning stare before softening it. “That long ago?” she asks, though she doesn’t doubt him.
He nods.
She cups his cheek. “The first night William requested to be with you when he woke up from a bad dream.”
“You dare not tell me?”
“Ladies do not reveal their hearts so easily,” she explains.
“Nor should men, as you told Reuben,” he reminds.
She bites back a smile. “The night William called me Mama confirmed it.”
“How s—”
“When you kissed me,” she reminds.
“I kissed your hand and it was to calm you,” he states.
“Just to calm me?”
His gaze lowers for a second. “No.”
She waits to see if he’ll continue.
“William thought you were to marry Baron Hasworthy.”
“And you?” she asks.
“I thought it possible.”
“Why?”
“He was good with William and you were pleased as such,” Lord Jackson reveals.
“What of Mr. Alcott?”
Her husband chuckles. “Never crossed my mind.”
“Honestly? Even with all the times you questioned me?”
He nods. “Not with how he handled himself. I knew you barely tolerated him. I only meant to tease you.”
“I knew you were smart,” she replies.
“What of a name?” he asks. “The boy must have a name. Reginald Jackson has a nice ring to it.”
“Papa would be flattered,” she agrees. “But I was thinking Theodore after his father?”
“Theodore,” he repeats, looking at his son.
“He will be a troublemaker like his father, I fear,” she states.
“I’ll make sure of it,” he replies with a grin.
“And, just as handsome, which will be a trouble of its own,” she adds.
“How is handsome trouble?”
She smiles. “It is a much pleasing distraction for the ladies.”
“I have been a pleasing distraction?” he inquires.
Lady Jackson bites back a smile. “I had stated to you and others several times that you are handsome.”
