The Substitute Countess

He laughed. “Well then, now you know of the pickpockets, as well.”

Laurel felt safe enough since she owned no purse or anything to put into one. The only two things she treasured were within her travel bag. She held it closer, uncertain whether he had been jesting about thieves everywhere.

“Plymouth seems a lovely town from what I see.”

“I like it. My early years were spent several streets from this very spot.”

“May I see where you lived?” she asked, hoping for a better picture of the boy he had been.

“Aye, and you must meet my mother. She has a larger place now that she’s remarried, but it’s very close to our old home.”

“You have a mother!” Laurel exclaimed.

“Well, I wasn’t hatched,” Jack said with a twist of his lips.

She laughed. “You know what I meant. Never once have you mentioned she was alive. I assumed you were an orphan like me.”

“Sorry, but you never asked. So I am telling you now, you have a mother-in-law. Come, we’ll go and see if she will let me keep you.”

Laurel knew he was joking now, but worry set in nonetheless. Would his mother tolerate a Catholic daughter-in-law, one who had very little real knowledge of the world and barely looked presentable?

She hurried to keep up with Jack as he strode the smooth stones of the streets, winding through the alleyways, a beatific smile on his face.

“Just there,” he said as he stopped and pointed to a row of small shops. “We lived above the chandler’s. See the sign? Mother’s family were candle makers. She did right well during the war but sold out when she married the chemist.”

“When did your father die?” Laurel asked, wishing they had dwelt more on his family’s history. They were her kin, too, after all.

“Ten years ago. I was eighteen and sailing on my own then. All those years Da survived at sea, could climb rigging like a monkey and battle pirates and privateers better than anyone. Then he fell off a ladder while hanging a new sign over the shop when he was home on a visit. Broke his neck.” He shook his head. “An ignominious end for a born sailor.”

“That’s so sad. But your mother is happy in her new marriage?”

“Mr. Ives does right well by her, so she says. I sailed out of here on my way to fetch you, so she’ll probably be expecting me back sooner or later.”

“But not me,” Laurel guessed.

He laughed. “No, not as my wife. She’ll be shocked to silence to find me married. And glad of it, too, when she recovers.”

They walked on down the street to the chemist shop and Jack entered first, holding the door open for Laurel. He set down his trunk just inside.

A statuesque, fair-haired woman in her midfifties threw up her hands and cried, “Jackie Boy!”

Laurel noted the resemblance in their features. The mother had the same strong nose and chin. The indentations in her cheeks that could almost be deemed dimples softened her countenance just as Jack’s did. Her mother-inlaw was a tall, handsome woman with a proud carriage and a capable air about her.

Mrs. Ives rounded the counter and grasped her son in a hearty hug. “Seeing you twice in a month almost never happens!” Then she noticed Laurel and stepped a little apart from Jack, though she seemed not at all embarrassed by her open display of affection.

“Excuse me, miss. I didn’t mean to ignore you. What is it I can do for you today?”

Jack hugged his mother with one arm and gestured to Laurel. “You can welcome a daughter, Mum. This is my wife, Laurel. Laurel, my mother, Hester Ives.”

The woman’s mouth dropped open and she gaped, first at Laurel, then up at her son.

“See? I told you. She’s speechless. Not a condition we shall see again right soon.” He seemed delighted.

“Mrs. Ives, so nice to meet you,” Laurel said, hoping to break the woman’s spell. She dropped a curtsy and ducked her head.

“Wife?” his mother gasped. “Is it true? You’re not having me on, Jack?”

“Not at all. We were wed aboard ship. Isn’t she lovely, Mum?” He winked at Laurel.

“Who is she?”

Jack cleared his throat. “Daughter of the former earl. Of Elderidge. Remember I told you I was going to fetch her home from Spain?”

Mrs. Ives reached behind her to grasp the countertop with both hands. “Then you were not jesting, Jack? Do not play with me,” she warned. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you inherit that title or no?”

“Indeed I did, Mum. I told you there was no other male heir.”

“You jackanapes, I never took you seriously!”

“Well, you may this time. I am the earl and Laurel is my countess. She has no more experience with the nobles than I do, you see, so we decided to muddle through it all together.”

“My God. I think I might faint,” the woman declared, clenching her eyes shut and pressing a hand to her chest.

“Steady on, old girl!” Jack said, laughing. “Here. Let me close shop for you and we’ll go up and have a chat. Where’s Mr. Ives today?”

“Gone for the week to purchase stock,” she murmured, taking Jack’s arm as he led her to the stairs. “Will you stay the night, dear? Please?”

Jack looked over his shoulder at Laurel with apology in his eyes and a plea for understanding. She nodded emphatically.

“Of course, Mum, we’ll stay if you like,” he replied.

Laurel realized right away why Jack had looked a bit crestfallen at having to stay with his mother. There was only the one bedroom and a small parlor above stairs.

Mrs. Ives had declared on the way up that she and Laurel would occupy the bedroom and Jack would be relegated to the sitting room couch.

Laurel was a bit disconcerted by that herself. The longer they put off making their marriage real, the more she worried about it.

Mrs. Ives regained full voice in good time, and over tea, Laurel learned much about Jack’s early life through tales of his derring-do as a lad. She laughed even as her heart melted, seeing the lovely relationship that still existed between mother and son.

When she and the woman retired for the night, Mrs. Ives insisted that Laurel call her Mum as Jack did.

“He won’t be an easy one to live with,” she warned Laurel in a near whisper. “Jack has trouble being still, you see. Never a quiet moment around him, I swear. How he ever managed all his energy aboard ship for weeks and months at a time, I can’t imagine.”

Laurel could well imagine it. He probably had spent the time diving in after errant lads who fell overboard or climbing to the top of the mast. If there had been battles, he would have thought so much the better, but she said none of that to his mother. Instead, she tried to ease the woman’s mind about Jack’s future.

“Perhaps he has done with the sea, ma’am. He will have lands to manage now.”

The mother looked doubtful. “His da was a born seaman and did his best to make one of Jack. It’s probably in the blood anyway, so I daren’t hope you’re right.”