Lips That Lied || hs

Fifty-Two

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."