Chapter Eight

Jane changed into a green silk dress and stole a sprig of holly to clip in her hair. The songs they'd sung earlier had made her realize she missed the festivity of the season. Henry would understand their need for normalcy, and in a sense it honored the seasons of old where Henry sang beside them. They needed to celebrate his life as well as mourn his loss.

She was surprised to see Lord Summerhill and Lady Agatha at supper that evening. The atmosphere between the two appeared as frosty as the air outside. Her own parents sent each other worried glances since Summerhill's gruff attitude toward them and his lady proved difficult to ignore.

To fill the awkward silences, Bertram asked Stephen about the war and looked so expectant, Stephen told him about the battles he'd been in, careful, Jane thought, to edit out anything that might give someone a turn during the meal. He talked about the food and the wine, comparing it to the capons and pear wine they had tonight, and pointed out how blessed with plenty they seemed to be.

"And none of your doing," his father said.

Jane cleared her throat. "Stephen was one of many who fended off Napoleon's advances. We cannot minimize his role."

Lord Summerhill stared at her as though she was an ant who learned the art of speech. "What has that to say to the state of things here?"

"England is unlikely to be invaded now," Jane answered.

"It was never a possibility," Lord Summerhill said.

"I have followed the war in the papers and it was Napoleon's aim."

Her own father stared at her. "You followed the war. Why?"

Jane looked across the table at Stephen. "Because I am interested in such things."

"Young ladies should not be," her mother said.

"Nevertheless, I have read about the battles and the aftermath." Her voice dipped as though she were speaking of something forbidden.

"I still don't see why." Her father shook his head.

Stephen's sharp intake of breath drew their attention. "Oh God, you were looking for my name among the dead or wounded."

Jane shifted in her seat as all eyes fell on her. She blinked back a tear. "Yes, I was," she said. "I had feared the worst."

"But you were supposed to marry Henry," Lord Summerhill said. "He was courting you."

"We were never in love, and I believe Henry kept up the pretense of courting so I could wait for Stephen's return."

"So it was all a ruse." Faraday seemed to be in awe of his daughter.

Stephen blew out a breath. "I had no expectations."

"Neither had I," Jane reminded him. "I have had time to reflect on how Henry treated me, not as a future wife with words of love, but more like a…sister. We spoke of Stephen more than anything else."

Lady Summerhill smiled at Jane and Stephen. "Taking it on blind faith."

Her father frowned at them. "Were you carrying on a secret correspondence?"

"There was nothing secret about it. Besides, Stephen got only one of my letters and I received none of his."

She stared at her father who seemed merely puzzled, but her Mother overturned her water goblet. "Letters will be the death of us all."

Stephen shook his head as his mother calmly leaned forward and laid her napkin over the wet place.

"What promise did you make her?" Lord Summerhill demanded of Stephen.

"Nothing, Father. I could promise her nothing."

Old Foster dropped a bunch of silver in the pantry with a crash loud enough to make the ladies jump.

"Clumsy fool." Even Lord Summerhill seemed relieved to remember servants could overhear them arguing.

Stephen smiled. "He's probably just reminding us this is not the place for this discussion if there is a place for it at all." He looked around the table and no one but his mother, Jane and Bertram could meet his eyes.

"Yes," Jane agreed. "We should let the past rest and focus on the future."

* * * * *

No more was said while the final course was served, a warm fruit custard. It was with relief that Jane rose with the other ladies and went into the hall. Instead of turning toward the drawing room, she went up to her room and gave in to another bout of tears. Now she knew. Her mother had betrayed her.

She was done crying when her mother opened the door and let herself in. "You have to understand why I did it."

"Are you planning to explain? That would be a feat."

"Henry seemed perfect for you."

"Because he had the best prospects. Do you know why Stephen was sent away?"

Her mother shrugged. "The second son always goes into the military."

"No, Lady Agatha came to live here with Bertram that summer. She convinced her brother that Stephen was illegitimate."

"But that's absurd. I'm very sorry."

Jane looked up and saw an unusual sincerity in her mother's face. "Did you burn them?"

"What?"

"The letters."

"No I kept them."

Jane jumped off the bed. "You mean I can have the letters?"

"I do not keep such things on my person. They're at home. All is settled, isn't it?" her mother asked.

"As far as Stephen and I are concerned."

"He'll have the title at least."

"Mother, if he was impoverished and had nothing but the two horses in the stable, I would marry him anyway."

"Admirable, but let's hope this isn't the case."

Jane groaned but her mother had already swept out of the room.