London, United Kingdom
April 1852

"Go on, then," James said to his wife as soon as they were settled in the carriage. "What is it that they have done?"

Jane looked to him with a frown, saying quietly, "I wish you wouldn't tease me. This is not easy to speak of."

The cocky grin on James's face faltered, but he made no effort to change his posture, which, with his broad shoulders and straightened back, exuded nothing short of unwavering confidence. He did not suppose that what Jane had to tell him would affect him at all.

"I don't mean to tease you," he told her falsely. "I just wish to hear the truth before we get there."

"You should have come to me sooner, and I would have told you then. Why wait 'til now?"

James rolled his eyes, unwilling to explain himself and his prolonged silence in the days before. He was there now, and that was all that mattered.

"Nevermind that. Stop wasting time, and get on with it."

Jane narrowed her eyes at him, but nonetheless conceded to his wishes. It was evident that she wished to push him on the subject, but because of the time constraint, she refrained. James was thankful for this, for it meant that his plan to back Jane into a corner had worked.

"Fine," Jane huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you must know, the reason I could never trust or side with my grandparents again is because they have lied to me my whole life about my parents and who my father was."

James could not help but show his disappointment. She was choosing to betray them because of a lie they told her about two people who had been dead for nearly twenty years? That couldn't possibly be it; there had to be something more.

Frowning, James scrutinized his wife's unwavering expression, which spoke only to the burning hatred that raged within her. It only confused him further.

"Is that it?"

"Obviously not." Jane shook her head as if she were astounded by his daft inquiry. "Have you ever heard of the Mercier Trading Company?"

It was James's turn to scoff. Of course he had. The French company was only their biggest competition in Europe.

"Yes, what of it?"

"The youngest son," Jane said. "The youngest son, Thomas, is my father."

As if James's mind fell entirely blank, he could not for the life of him determine what this meant. He knew of the Merciers and their headquarters in Calais, but he knew not of how they could have any possible connection to his wife. She was mistaken, surely.

"No," James protested, though slowly as if to convince himself that the truth he knew was the real one. "Your father was an English general. He died in France in one of the rebellions." He looked up to Jane, confused. "Wasn't he?"

Jane frowned, "That's what I thought, too, but then, I learned that he wasn't English at all, nor is he dead."

"Did he leave you?"

After he asked the question, James felt somewhat ashamed for having asked it so thoughtlessly. If Jane's father had left her, then surely, his inquiry would not strike her as very kind. However, to his relief, Jane did not seem affected by him; instead, she answered him simply, with information that shocked him even further.

"Not by choice." Jane looked down. "I don't know how they managed it, but they banished him after my mother died and fabricated that story about the Englishman to cover up his relation to me."

"Why? Wouldn't people have known they were married?"

As Jane contemplated her next words, James eyed her expectantly, each passing moment making him think that the Pelham family wasn't as perfect as they hoped for everyone to believe. If they had kept Jane's father hidden, there must have been a rather damning reason behind it.

"Jane," he pressed her. "Tell me why they sent him away."

Jane looked up and gravely addressed him, "You can't tell anyone this."

"I won't."

With a sigh, Jane bit her lip. "He and my mother ran away together, and even though he married her before they did anything, my grandparents wouldn't forgive him for it... and when my mother died after having me, they took the opportunity to write him out of the story entirely, telling me and everyone else that my father was dead."

So this was the great Pelham secret. It was a wonder to him that they had managed to keep it so quiet, especially since Jane's existence likely made doing so somewhat difficult. How to explain the birth of their daughter's child amidst the husband's absence, James didn't understand in the least. It all seemed so needlessly complicated; why, if Jane's father had married her mother, could he not take charge of Jane and raise her as he should? Aside from the running away together, what was their objection against him?

"I don't understand," James admitted quietly, his demeanor now entirely changed from moments ago. He no longer smiled, nor did he tease; instead, he was puzzled and engrossed by Jane's story, for it allowed him to see the real root of her misery. "Why should they complicate things? If he is who you say he is, he comes from a good and prosperous family; what could they possibly fault him for that warranted his separation from you?"

Yet again, Jane did not answer right away. She thought for several moments, then sighed, "I ask myself that question everyday, but truthfully, I cannot answer it. Other than the prejudices they have against him, I suppose it has to do with control. They didn't want him dictating my life when his ideas might contradict theirs; if he stayed in the picture, they knew they would never really have their way with me, and so they decided to eliminate the conflict altogether."

Jane's voice had grown shaky in her explanation, which to his surprise, made James sympathize with her. Jane was not one to cry easily, and so he knew that this must hurt her far more deeply than she let on.

"At least, that's just my guess," she went on. "Thomas believes that to be the case as well, but there's really no way to understand their deranged logic."

Amidst his sympathy for his wife, James was instantly distracted by the words she had just spoken. Wide eyed, he tried his best not to sound too interested in what she had to say, but failed miserably.

"Do you mean to say you've met him?" When Jane did not respond, James knew that she had, and despite his efforts to feel otherwise, he was impressed. She must have really gone out of her way to hide it from her grandparents, and with what he knew about them, doing so would likely be a difficult thing to do. "When? And where is he now?"

"It was in Newcastle," she admitted, though not boldly. She seemed to be tiptoeing through a potentially damning mine field on information, only sharing what she could to avoid a dangerous misstep. He didn't know why her caution was necessary, but James didn't care. He would get what he could from her and use her hatred for her grandparents to fuel his own.

"Did you meet him in town?" Jane shook her head, but that confused him even more. Did she mean...? "On the estate, then?"

Jane was slow to confirm this speculation, but she did, saying, "Yes, we met for many months before I was sent here... they never knew."

But now James was confused. If her father really had waited all this time to be with her, why then, had she not seen him since Newcastle, or had she been seeing him all along and he hadn't the slightest clue? The possibility was real and very unnerving to him.

"He hasn't sought you out here, has he?"

Tearfully looking up to him, Jane shook her head, "No... my grandfather found us in the end. I–" Jane gasped as women crying often did, though she was successful to push through her tears to continue her confession. "Forgive me, I– he found us and thought Thomas was trying to kidnap me. Of course, that's ridiculous, but that's the charge he laid against him. I don't– I do not know if he's imprisoned or even if he's alive."

As soon as she finished speaking, Jane at last conceded to her tears, bowing her head and crying silently to herself. The air was heavy inside the carriage, and James, feeling suddenly guilty for having jokingly prodded her on a topic that evidently caused her so much pain, wished he could do something to help her. He didn't regret asking her all that he had, but he did regret his timing and his insistence that it was now or never for her tale. He should have waited until after this dinner.

Knowing that he was to blame for Jane's sudden emotional outburst, James leant forward and tried to catch his wife's eye. He said her name softly, but still, she would not look up at him. Slightly defeated, James concluded that his effort would have to amount to more. Though he practiced it sparingly, he would need to be tender with her in these moments alone, and so knowing what was silently being asked of him, James swiftly came to sit by his wife's side instead of across from her. She did not look up at him as he stretched his arm across her shoulders, gently pulling her into him for comfort. It was an odd thing for him to do, he knew that, but it seemed to be the only thing that could reverse the effects of his nosiness. After all, it had worked with Lorraine many times before, so now with his own wife, it should work just as well.

But Jane was not quick to approve of his action, for almost the moment he touched her, she pushed him away, wiping the tears beneath her eyes and gathering herself.

"No, I'm fine," she told him, leaning towards the wall of the coach. Quickly, James drew his arm back, surprised and embarrassed that she would not accept him. He knew she didn't want intimacy with him, but he did not think that her aversion to him meant avoiding his touch entirely. He was defeated, but he nonetheless offered her what he had planned to.

"I can find out if you'd like... what happened to your father, I mean."

It seemed that Jane was surprised by this offer, for when she answered, it did not appear as if she had understood him.

"What?"

James glanced at her sitting beside him, but once again lowered his gaze to his clasped hands in front of him. He cleared his throat, "I said I can find out what happened to him. I have friends in Newcastle that could track him down... is that– is that something you would want?"

Jane's eyes flickered with hope, but moments later, the light died and once again gave way to her sadness. It seemed that she had allowed herself to become excited, only for it to be trampled within her own conscience. She had realized something that meant she could not accept his offer.

"I appreciate it, but no."

At this, James's guilt melted away and was replaced by irritation. He could endure her pushing him away, but why must she refuse his help as well? If Jane really cared about her father, surely, she wanted to see him. So why then was there a disconnect? Was the story even real?

"Would you care to explain why?" James said coldly. "Or did you make this all up to manipulate me?"

"No, of course not! It's just–" Jane sighed, frustrated that she should have to explain herself, "It's just if my grandfather knew you were looking for my father, I fear what he would do to him."

"Right."

"Truly, I have not lied to you. I just don't want to endanger him any further."

James was quiet for several moments, but then he nodded, supposing that what she had said to him made sense. Jane hated her grandparents for keeping her father from her, and she hated them even more for having taken him say a second time. But no matter how much she loved the man, she would not further risk his life by seeking him out. It was a perfect cruelty that had been orchestrated by the Pelhams, and Jane had been enslaved to it for many months. It angered him to think that they should dare to exercise control over her even when she now belonged to him. They no longer had a right to her, and James wanted to make them aware of it.

"Alright then," James concluded, allowing Jane's motive to infiltrate his own. "I believe you. And I must confess I hate them more for it."

Jane smiled weakly, "I'm glad."

Silence filled the space between them, and only then did James realize how close he was sitting to Jane on the seat. He couldn't say why, but feeling her heat against him made him nervous; and so to avoid it, he crossed over to the other side, resuming his initial position.

As he looked over at his wife, he observed her rigid posture as well as the redness that now circled round her eyes from the crying she had done. She was in no state to attend dinner with her hateful grandparents, and he had the overwhelming conviction that it was his fault. She shouldn't have to face them now.

"Jane?"

"Hm?" She answered him distractedly.

"Are you alright to do this tonight?"

Jane stiffened, blinking several times as if to prevent fresh tears from forming. "I'll be fine, though I suppose she'll know that I've cried tonight."

Again, James was afflicted by guilt that struck him between the ribs. Her depressed mood was entirely his fault. "You don't have to go," he told her. "I– I don't want her to torment you tonight."

Jane opened her mouth to protest, but upon thinking of it further, she supposed that maybe James was trying to allow her an escape from what would surely be a miserable evening. And in her current state of distress, Jane knew that delving into an evening with her grandparents now would only deflate her spirits further. Moreover, she was no longer equipped to follow through with the plan of conversation she had developed earlier that day. Not only did she feel too defeated to face them as boldly as she wanted to, but also, if James were there, she wouldn't know what sort of behavior to expect from him. There were too many uncertainties now that Jane at last consented to James's suggestion.

"I don't either," Jane sighed. "What will I tell them?"

"I will tell them that you weren't feeling well."

"You?"

"Yes, I will go in your place. I'm sure they won't mind."

"Oh, but they will."

"Even better," James teased, shooting her a playful smile in hopes that she would return it. She did, though it seemed to surprise her, for she looked down immediately after and began to fiddle with her skirts. Frowning at her shyness, James cleared his throat and tried to continue their conversation, "So, shall I tell them you will call tomorrow?"

"Perhaps the next day... I don't suppose they'll believe I was ill if I were alright the following morning."

James hadn't considered that. "Right. The day after tomorrow then."

The remainder of the journey was spent quietly, the only sound coming from the rattling of the carriage down the busy London streets. The relative silence was good for them both, for as Jane began to relax a little at having been freed from her obligation, James began to come up with how he might behave that evening.

James knew that for the Pelhams to fully trust their granddaughter, he would need to seem as oblivious as possible. He would have to show them that aside from his care for Jane, his focus was entirely consumed by trivial things. That way, when the time came for them to ask Jane what they wanted of her, they might have confidence that she could sway him in anything. Only then, she would inform him of their plan, and he might avoid whatever trap they had laid out for him.

When they arrived at the Pelham's London house, Jane looked to her husband with concern etched upon her face and implored him, "You won't mention my father to them, will you?"

"No," James answered her, though he wasn't entirely sure that he was telling the truth. He wanted to confront Henry about this Thomas character, and if the opportunity to do so were to present itself, he wasn't so sure that he would pass it up. Nonetheless, Jane seemed to be put at ease by his reply, and so he would not think on it again.

"Good," Jane sighed, leaning back into her seat. "Would you like me to wait up on you?"

"That's alright. You should rest."

The door then swung open, and James was ushered out by the footman, who he informed that Jane would be returning to their house. The carriage had scarcely been shut before James was greeted by the Pelham's butler and ushered inside towards to the parlor, where he awaited his first encounter with his in-laws in several months. James stood anxiously by the bookcase on the wall, reading the titles then instantly forgetting them. He itched for a glass of something to calm his nerves, but as far as he could see, there was nothing with which he could satiate his thirst. He would have to wait until it was offered to him.

When the Pelhams did finally receive him, they were none too pleased to see that he had been sent in Jane's place. He explained to them that she had taken ill the night before and had hoped to recover before dinner time; however, she was still unfortunately bound to her bed. Of course, both of her grandparents' words reflected that they cared for their granddaughter's health, but the stiffness and intensity with which they spoke informed James that they were really more concerned with how she had inconvenienced them by not making an appearance. And in light of what Jane had told him about them, James began to see their words for the falsities they bore. They were a self-serving people, and it did not take James long to feel some of the hatred that Jane felt towards them.

The dinner was torture for them all to endure, and so when it at last came to an end, James was beyond grateful. He would have one drink with Henry and then be on his way home without event. Only, once he was alone with the patriarch of the Pelham family, and once the whiskey had begun to work upon his mind, James began to tiptoe the line of topics that he knew he should not discuss. It took one careless slip of the mouth that brought on the discussion of Thomas Mercier, only, once the name had been intentionally spoken of aloud, James had no trouble in pursuing the topic further. He wished for his wife to see her father again, if only just to improve her mood, and so James began a negotiation that would change his life forever.

•••

Just moved back to school today! I have about three weeks before classes start but I'll still be really busy for a while. I hope to keep updating, but please forgive me if it's irregular I'm trying lol

Thank you all for reading! Ily💖
-kate💖