Coming of age, p.1
Coming of Age, page 1
Coming of Age
By Ellie Thomas
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2022 Ellie Thomas
ISBN 9781685503185
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
To lovely Ana Sofia for taking the time and trouble to reassure me about this one, and to lovely Jai, whose enthusiasm for these characters always inspires me. Thank you both.
* * * *
Coming of Age
By Ellie Thomas
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 1
London, June 1815
Percy examined his reflection in the drawing room window in the bright morning sunlight, suspicious that his unblemished skin and clear sky-blue eyes might hold imperfections at closer inspection, or even the appearance of a dreaded wrinkle. When peering minutely, rather than feeling becalmed that all was perfection, there was still a nagging sensation that he had missed an obvious flaw.
With a sigh, he mentally rehearsed his tasks for the day ahead without much enthusiasm. Percy should be elated that his sister Eustacia’s recent come out had been a marked success, despite the stain on the family name. He and his siblings had been dramatically declared to be illegitimate last autumn due to an earlier marriage his father had conveniently long-forgotten.
Eustacia’s gentle sweetness and fresh prettiness had confirmed her modest entrée into society, but without Percy’s efforts behind the scenes beforehand and his active involvement throughout, her first Season may not have occurred at all, or been curtailed abruptly in disaster.
The siblings, over five years apart, had grown close over the spring. Eustacia, biddable and shy, had clung to her worldly older brother for direction among a throng ranging from the avidly curious to the mildly hostile. She unquestioningly accepted his advice on every matter, from her choice of gowns to her selection of friends. Rather than being relieved of a filial burden now that she had returned to the family home, Percy missed Eustacia keenly. Not that he’d admit it aloud, but he had found purpose in having a younger sibling to watch over assiduously, however unexpected that might seem, given Percy was skilled at putting himself first.
He had to admit that her complete reliance on his judgment made him resemble a better and more responsible person, a transition that some of his acquaintance might regard as a minor miracle. In her absence, he felt somewhat at a loss, especially as during the whirl of the Season, he had less leisure to dwell on how the family change of circumstances had permanently damaged his standing.
Also, he did not trust either of his parents with the care of his three younger sisters, Eustacia at eighteen being the eldest, with barely a year each between Araminta and Phoebe. He was preoccupied with the girls languishing miserably over the summer months at Massingfield, the family estate in Sussex, and how the stigma of Sir Edgar and Lady Caroline’s reputations might affect the his sisters’ ongoing public acceptability. However, solving that complex social conundrum must wait for another day.
Firstly, having sent a lavish bouquet to his Cousin Augusta, who had irreproachably hosted Eugenia for her stay in London, he must consolidate that with at least one cordial visit of thanks. Then he must call on Mrs. Dalrymple, a long-standing friend who had proved herself both generous and invaluable in making Eugenia’s first Season possible.
Without her benign influence, tickets for Almack’s would not have magically appeared, and society hostesses would not have smiled tolerantly at the inclusion of the pair of Havillands at their parties or routs. If, in reciprocation, Percy was commandeered by his patroness to attend several dull end-of-Season gatherings to be ignored or sneered at by a number of those present, then that was a small price to pay. He gave another sigh. With all this unprecedented conscientiousness, it was no wonder he was as cross as crabs and had vented his spleen on the person he valued most dearly.
His lover, Nathaniel Brooks, had been unfailingly reliable throughout the frenetic Season, bearing the brunt of Percy’s scattered attention and air of constant distraction as he squired his sister to a dizzying number of events. Percy could not have failed to accompany her, knowing that his presence shielded Eustacia from much petty spite.
And now that the pressure is over, what did you do? He regarded his unruffled image as he heard the decided slam of the outer door. Nathan drops in during his busy morning to check on your welfare, and instead of showing gratitude, you know precisely how to stir him into a rage and make him storm out in a fury. One day, my lad, you will go too far, and then where will you be?
Chapter 2
Jo ascended the steps of Percy’s Mount Street residence, almost colliding with Nathan hurrying in the opposite direction.
“Good morning,” Jo said cheerily.
“If you say so,” Nathan retorted, his thinning cropped brown hair appeared disarranged as if from running his hands through it in exasperation and his shrewd dark eyes snapped with irritation.
“Ah, like that, is it?” Jo replied diplomatically, inwardly surmising that Percy and Nathan must have had one of their regular disagreements. However, he would not presume to be Nathan’s confidante, especially where Percy was concerned, given Jo and Percy’s former intimate relations.
“Is Percy well?” He inquired blandly.
“Percy is quite well and utterly infuriating,” Nathan stated through clenched teeth, confirming Jo’s suspicions. “But that’s hardly news to either of us,” he added before he stalked down the steps, his stocky form purposefully striding away toward Piccadilly.
Oh, bother. Jo watched Nathan disappear into the distance. Perhaps I haven’t chosen the best time to visit. But when William, the footman, as essential to the smooth running of the small household as his bride-to-be, Martha the parlor maid, showed Jo into Percy’s drawing room, there was no evidence of any recent altercation.
The room was large and gracious, fashionably decorated in shades of gold and blue, the perfect frame for Percy’s ethereal beauty. Jo could not help but contrast him with Nathan, not only in terms of mood but also in the older man’s solid and prosaic appearance, as Percy perched on the sofa with a dish of coffee and an air of undisturbed composure.
Jo was not generally regarded as ill-looking, in his prime in his late twenties and a few inches taller than his host. Jo’s chestnut waves were confined in a fashionable Brutus cut, his regular features usually arranged in a smile, and his figure kept trim by regular visits to Jackson’s Boxing Academy on Bond Street. But even though his misplaced ardor was long extinguished, Percy’s outstanding loveliness sometimes still made Jo blink, feeling somewhat cumbersome in comparison.
“How pleasant to see you, Jo. Would you like some coffee? William, would you be so kind as to fetch another cup?”
As the footman departed on his errand, Jo sat down opposite Percy, saying, “I met Nathan on my way in.”
“Indeed.” Percy smiled like the cat that had been at the cream.
“He didn’t seem particularly happy.”
Percy waved his free hand in elegant dismissal. “He’ll get over it,” he said airily. “Anyway, making up is all part of the game.”
Jo looked at Percy warily. Despite his angelic prettiness, there was a feral gleam that Jo recognized of old. For the thousandth time, he thanked heaven that he was long past the stage of infatuation. Being Percy’s friend was far less taxing to the pocketbook, libido, and equilibrium.
“If you like that sort of thing,” he said dubiously. “I don’t think my nerves could stand the strain.”
“That’s because you are so unerringly good-natured that you require someone obliging and sweet-tempered like Daniel, who would never willingly utter a cross word.”
Although Jo was in complete agreement about the compliment to his true love, he was mildly taken aback that Percy, of all people, could render such a perceptive and generous viewpoint. “Where is the real Percy Havilland, and what have you done with him?” he quipped.
Percy gave a trill of laughter at the witticism as William returned with the requested crockery and performed his duty with the coffeepot before leaving the gentlemen to continue their discussion.
Percy mused, “I can understand that consistent harmony suits some couples, like dear Daniel and your good self. But for those of us who are less saintly, I can only say that the odd kick-up adds variety. After all, I wouldn’t want Nathan to lose interest and become bored.”
This remark was delivered in a nonchalant tone, followed by a sip of coffee, but the final revealing statement caught Jo’s attention, and he looked sharply at Percy over the rim of his coffee cup.
Following a seemingly charmed existence, Percy had endured several months of severe turbulence. Jo had been witness to the desertion of the ton given the scandalous revelations during the past autumn, especially the disgraceful conduct of Sir Edgar Havilland, shaking Percy’s confidence to the marrow. Although partially rehabilitated, Percy no longer held an unbounded social cachet, keeping a much lower profile as a result. This resulted in him mixing mainly with the small and unconventional group of male cohorts that included Jo, rather than being included in the constant round and crush of aristocratic assemblies.
Jo had witnessed the outward effect of these unpleasant disclosures, but from Nathan he had learned that Sir Edgar and Lady Caroline’s reputation for selfish unconcern was earned several times over where their unfortunate offspring were concerned. Nathan had confided that Percy had spent his formative years briefly indulged for his beauty and consequently ignored. It’s no wonder he’s so capricious, Jo thought.
The kernel of truth in Percy’s throwaway remark revealed an unexpected emotional chasm. Jo chose his words carefully.
“It’s plain to all of us that know you both well that he genuinely cares for you. Nathan’s not the changeable sort once he’s made up his mind. I could never imagine him dismissing you on a whim.”
Rather than batting back that assertion with a knowing flutter of his eyelashes, Percy said quietly, “I realize that. It’s not Nathan who I doubt.”
Jo was at a loss for a reply. After many years of ton training, he was breezily au fait with the intricacies of drawing room protocol, but correctly addressing the insecurities of a former lover regarding his current beau was outside his general experience. No etiquette book he had encountered sought to cover that topic.
Jo was spared the need to respond as Percy visibly gathered himself with an artful smile, “Don’t fret, Jo. Nathan and I will soon make amends as we always do. So, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
Jo should have been glad to be delivered from uncertain territory by Percy’s neat deflection, but he had a nagging suspicion he had let Percy down. There was nothing for it but to let the subject drop for now.
“I was invited to the Southerby’s dance tonight and wondered if you were going? I know our hostess is a good friend of your Mrs. Dalrymple. Mrs. S. has shown great interest in the ex-serviceman’s charity I’m involved with so I ought to attend, even though at this stage of the Season the company will be rather thin. Once I’ve done my duty and asked several of her daughters to dance, I was rather hoping to mingle with some friendly faces.”
Percy nodded in the affirmative, and they surmised as to which of their acquaintance might be present at the event until the coffee pot was empty.
As he crossed Bond Street, Jo felt uneasy on Percy’s account with that uncharacteristic show of introspection and disquiet. Normally, Jo would discuss any puzzling matters beyond his comprehension with his best friend from school, Captain Ben Harding, who had founded the veterans’ association that Jo helped to run. But Ben was currently residing near Trowbridge in Wiltshire close to his confidential personal physician Edward Stephens.
During last year’s spring Season when Jo and Percy were briefly involved, Ben had no tolerance for the dampening effect of Percy’s wiles and wheedles on Jo’s peace of mind. However, he was staunchly supportive during the crisis of the past autumn when Percy was left almost friendless. Although Ben was increasingly tolerant these days, Jo could only imagine his disbelief at the assertion that Percy possessed any finer feelings.
I know, Jo thought with a burst of inspiration putting a spring in his step. I’ll discuss this with Daniel later. Of all people, he’ll know what’s what.
Chapter 3
In between dances with his hostess’ daughters, Jo could not help but witness a complementary series of moves around the edge of the ballroom as the night progressed.
He had arranged to arrive with Percy, well aware that despite Percy’s formal invitation and the good graces of a favored guest in Mrs. Dalrymple, walking into a crowded salon alone could be an isolating experience where those who wished to be disparaging would take full advantage. Jo’s presence was a welcome buffer, and it was no hardship for him to ensure a cordial start to the evening.
Naturally, the two men separated as the music commenced, with both of them engaged on the dance floor. Mrs. Southerby was not only financially generous toward the soldiers’ charity that Jo oversaw, but also showed great interest in helping in several practical ways, so Jo felt duty bound to demonstrate his gratitude by squiring her numerous female relatives for the remainder of the soirée.
Without such pressing obligations, Percy could afford to pause from dancing and bow out for a set or two. Halfway through the evening, from his position in the center of the ballroom, Jo noticed Nathan’s entrance during one such refreshment break. Uh-oh, he thought as Nathan perceived Percy immediately, his rough-hewn features hardening into a scowl.
Percy, with his back to the door where Nathan had entered, was engaged in a lengthy conversation with the amiable Mrs. Dalrymple, his great supporter, who enjoyed nothing so much as an extensive and harmless flirtation with a gorgeous young man in a public setting. Jo was too occupied with guiding a somewhat wayward and chatty dance partner through her steps to gather the precise moment when Percy became aware that his disgruntled lover was present.
To an unpracticed eye, it would seem as though Percy was entirely oblivious of Nathan for a full quarter-hour, but Jo had been at the receiving end of Percy’s ploys sufficiently to recognize some small but telling signs. In the old days, before Percy became involved with Nathan, Jo surmised as he twirled yet another young lady, Percy would have openly played the coquet with several of his most avid admirers to arouse jealousy or ardor in the breast of his current paramour.
Although Percy’s coterie had diminished somewhat with his family’s fall from grace, he would still be able to gather a circle of potential suitors had he so wished, but genuine attachment had modified his strategies. So Percy alternated between squiring ladies onto the dance floor before returning to exchange a few more words with his hostess or Mrs. Dalrymple. Nathan, who was not disposed to dance, and was much vaunted for his financial and business prowess, was talking in a quiet corner with other serious-minded gentlemen.
Jo could not help but notice how, apparently artlessly, Percy orbited closer, casually selecting dance partners in ever-decreasing circles to Nathan’s proximity. Once they were within touching distance, instead of confrontation or apology, there was a teasing glance, just a flash of those glorious blue eyes directed at Nathan. The next occasion warranted a delicate half-smile revealing a hint of a dimple.
Depending on the prowess of his current dance partner, Jo watched this progress with fascination as Nathan’s forbidding expression subtly softened at each circuit until Percy’s careful choreography drew them together. By the time Jo consumed a well-deserved glass of punch and discreetly mopped his brow with his handkerchief, the previously warring duo was standing side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Percy tilted his golden head winningly as he uttered a bon mot that made Nathan smile in genuine amusement, all annoyance forgotten.
Jo was unsure whether to be impressed or appalled at Percy’s scheming ways and his ability to manipulate the most clear-thinking and hard-headed fellow from a state of severe exasperation to pliable putty.
He wasn’t remotely surprised when shortly afterwards, Percy prettily made his excuses to his hostess, with Nathan taking his leave after a decent interval of a full five minutes. So neither of them will suffer a lonely night, Jo thought with a grin. All’s well that ends well. That is, until the next spat.
