Today's Reading
"And you," Jon said instead, "have been a father to me when I had none."
When they'd come to France as part of his grand tour, Jon had been a reckless youth, third son to the twelfth Duke of Falconridge and the only son by the duke's second wife. But once Jon and Morris had become captives, it hadn't taken Jon long to figure out that recklessness and youth led to being taken advantage of, not only by their French captors, but by their fellow detainees, or détenus as the French called them. He'd learned to be more careful and not trust anyone but his two friends and Morris, his bellwether and guide.
Jon stiffened. He had to be as strong for Morris as Morris had been for him. "I couldn't have survived captivity without you. I only wish I hadn't been so rash as to—"
"Don't...blame yourself..." Morris paused as a spasm of pain apparently seized him, making his face contort. Then he nodded to Jon's scarred hands. "You suffered, too."
Morris's kind words even in the midst of his agony sliced through Jon's reserve. "Ah, but if I hadn't pushed you to attempt escaping with us—"
"I couldn't abandon you. Besides, your plan...might have worked...if we hadn't...been betrayed. Not. Your. Fault."
It was, though. Jon had been the one to misjudge the distance they would have to drop and the length of rope they would need, which had caused Morris to fracture his femur. And if Jon hadn't insisted, Morris would never have joined him and his friends, never been recaptured with them, and never been punished by being sent to what everyone called the "Mansion of Tears."
Jon and his friends had been young and hardy enough to survive their own injuries from their failed escape, not to mention the damp cold, the sparse food, the ever-present threat of disease, and the cruelties of men trapped together at Bitche and left largely to their own devices. At nearly sixty, Morris had not.
That was without considering that if not for Jon, he and Morris would never have ended up as captives in France in the first place.
Seeing the flask of water nearby, Jon held it to Morris's lips and watched as the man swallowed, the fragile muscles of his throat trembling with every motion. "I know my father convinced you to be my tutor, sir, when you didn't wish—"
"Doesn't matter," Morris said impatiently. "Must remind you...in my belongings...is the codicil to my will...making you executor...of my estate."
"I remember," Jon said hoarsely, although Morris hadn't let him read it yet.
Morris raised his head. "Promise me...you'll make sure...Ida is safe."
Ida was Morris's wife. "I vow that I will. I'll handle it myself." If we get to return.
"Ida has family...in Yorkshire," Morris continued. "And there's a small...bequest for her...in my will."
Guilt overtook Jon anew. She would bear the brunt of Jon's mistakes. And he'd have much to conceal from her if his suspicions about the "friend" Morris had left behind in their detainee camp, Mademoiselle Bernard, were correct. Even worse, what if Morris had left money to the woman? How would Jon explain that to Mrs. Morris?
Although, he should be glad Morris even had a will. His wife would need it, given that Jon and Morris had used up their ready cash on bribes, food, and medicines.
"What about your daughter?" If Jon remembered right, she'd be in her twenties. He'd never met her, but he thought he had the age straight. It was hard to be sure. One easily lost track of time in Bitche.
"Victoria is...a different matter." Morris groaned. "Promise me you will...help her to find a...good husband."
"I'll do what I can, I swear," Jon said. That was all he could promise without knowing how things were at home.
Before Napoleon had halted all communication between France and England eight years ago, Jon had learned of his own beloved father's death, but no news since. His eldest half brother, Alban, must be duke now, and his second eldest half brother, Aubrey, must be the heir. Jon supposed that made him the spare, assuming Alban hadn't borne an heir already. Anything was possible in eleven years.
Morris tried to raise himself off the mattress but fell back moments later. "The lease on...our cottage ends...soon. Once that happens..."
...
