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“INDEED, I HAVE PERSUADED Harrington to accompany them, you know.” Lady Harrington gave her grimace of a smile as she finished a stitch.
“Cynthia will be delighted.” Lady Wyndham responded and Lady Harrington nodded in agreement.
“Indeed, it is a wonderful opportunity to further...well, to further possibilities. The Makons will not be there, for they have other obligations, and the numbers will still work out beautifully, for Margaret could not bear to be left behind, you know.” Jane knew very well that Meg had probably been smart enough to ask in front of others so Lady Harrington would say yes, and smiled at that bit of maneuvering.
“Mama, I do believe the numbers will be uneven after all, for I count six ladies and five gentleman.” Jane bit her lip; if only Meg had stayed quiet.
Lady Harrington looked up and pursed her lips as she looked at Jane. Jane met her gaze but knew not what to say.
“Miss Shaw, were you able to finish your letters on Monday?”
She looked hopeful, and Jane sighed as she looped her yarn. “I...well, that is...yes.”
“I should not like you to be remiss in your correspondence. Indeed, if you had not followed Meg in here to sew, I am sure you would have already been done with your obligations.”
“Mama, you cannot exclude Jane from the festivities merely because she hasn’t written a letter today.” Meg was working up her temper, and Jane sighed once more, for Meg had begged her to accompany her this morning.
Lady Harrington didn’t even bother to look at her. “No, Margaret, I promised her aunt I would remind her to be most faithful in her correspondence.”
Jane put her hand on Meg’s arm as she looked at Lady Harrington’s forceful gaze. “I shall be delighted to write my aunt of course, my lady, but perhaps I might enjoy a walk in your lovely grove first?”
“Oh no dear. Besides, if you don’t finish your correspondence today, you might miss the maze Friday and it will be such an opportunity for you.” At this statement, Lady Harrington gave a smile so insincere as to startle her.
“In...Indeed. Not to be missed.”
Lady Harrington went back to her embroidery, but Jane didn’t miss the knowing look she gave the other ladies. Excusing herself, Jane rose and headed for the door, her knitting clutched haphazardly to her chest. As she left she heard Meg start on her mother. “How could you, she would bother nobody and she is the dearest –“ but the door closed and she didn’t hear what was so very dear about herself. Shaking her head, she made her way upstairs to the library for her confinement.
The library was so very sunny, that Jane immediately found herself drawn to the window. “Oh drat. Why couldn’t it have rained?” She felt grumpy about not being allowed outside, and looked about for the book she hadn’t finished to distract her. It had been returned to the little desk, which was empty of letters as it taunted her, reminding her to be obedient. Should she write again? She felt no compulsion to write to her aunt, and her anonymous friend would never write again, would they? No...that would be impossible, for they would soon all be gone to the boats or were absent entirely. She shook her head and headed for the window, but found herself looking back. Perhaps.
Perhaps a short note.
Laying the book to the side, she opened the bottle of ink and began.
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JUNE 28, 1813
Dear Friend,
Imagine my surprise when you did not end up being a figment of my imagination.
I must confess, though, your words were truly a balm, and I thank you. You see, Lady Harrington has consigned me to the library again. My Aunt Jemima must have been most persuasive to secure an invitation, for I am sure Lady Harrington wishes me gone. I would prefer a walk in the woods or by the lake, but solitude is not the punishment I believe she intends it to be. There is no help for it, though, for I have promised Lady Margaret that when Chestnut’s puppies arrive (possibly next week) I will help her name them and sketch them each for her. So you see, I have serious commitments I cannot disregard.
I have thought on your words about Lord Petersham, and I find I still disagree with you, although I assume you must be better acquainted with the situation. Perhaps it is because of my reticence to socialize, but I tend to be quite good at ‘reading a person’ as my aunt would say. Mr. Makon, for example, plays a musical instrument despite his lack of performance in the evenings. The Earl of Harrington has something weighing on his mind, although of course I have no knowledge of his personal affairs. Lastly, from your letters I can assume you are not only a man, but well educated.
If you should truly happen to read this note, I have started The Mysteries of Udolpho at Miss Pratt’s urging, and find it a horror to read. At every other page I feel ready to either throw it in the fire or bury it in a hole and yet I find I have a morbid curiosity to its ending. If you ever find yourself tempted by Udolpho, I would beg you to reconsider, for I cannot recommend it.
Jane Shaw
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JANE SIGNED IT AND slowly set down her quill. Was it silly? It was definitely forward and even a little rash. She shook her head. Crumpling it up, she stood to throw it in the fire, then stopped.
Last time, she had read for hours, allowing that simple correspondence. Perhaps...perhaps she could leave it for a bit. She continued to justify keeping it as she stood there. After all, it couldn’t hurt, could it? She made up her mind, smoothing the paper a little and grabbing The Mysteries of Udolpho once more. She stared at her words a moment longer, and left it there on the desk as she shook her head. Slowly, she made her way over to the window sill where she observed Lady Harrington walking next to Lord and Lady Wyndham as they strolled through the gardens, providing one more barrier against sneaking out. She sighed, and settled in with her book.
Sometime later, a chair creaked and Jane looked up. Someone was here, she was sure of it. She breathed faster – should she see who it was? Or let the mysterious friend stay a mystery? Perhaps it was only her imagination at work.
She looked outside and noticed Annabelle and Cynthia Pratt on the arms of Sir Reginald as they came back. It must be the end of today’s boating. Feeling suddenly depressed, she set her book down on her lap. The noise was probably a maid, or creaking floor boards, and she was being ridiculous.
After a few minutes, Jane rose, for she knew it was about time to dress for dinner, and wanted to ensure she wasn’t late. She approached the desk to toss her ridiculous nonsense in the fire only to find it empty. Her letter was gone, but nothing was there in reply. Worried at the number of conclusions this might mean, she huffed.
“This will teach me not to be naively spontaneous.” And pushing her worry aside for later, she shook her head and hurried to change.
***
AFTER DINNER, JANE moved to her friend’s side, where the two immediately sat and began talking.
“Meg, you must tell me how the day’s boating went, for I know you were particularly excited for this outing.” Meg immediately responded as she grabbed her friend’s hands.
“Jane, dear, I am so terribly sorry, for I am sure if I had not managed mother so then the numbers would not have been even and you would have been able to go, of course I shouldn’t have said anything about there being an extra female, but I AM sorry, and hope you will forgive me.”
Jane smiled at the terrible sentence and assured her friend. “There is nothing to forgive, Meg. Only tell me how it all was and it will seem as if I’d been there the whole time.”
And with that, Jane had only to listen as Meg waxed on about the lake, the water, “And there’s a small island which we were so lucky was there this year, for sometimes it’s too deep to show, and all told, Jane, it was really a lovely day.”
Jane attempted to fill in the missing holes. “And everyone had a partner?”
“They did! For Charlie was with Cynthia of course, she wore a flouncy blue dress that just matched her eyes and spent the whole time simpering. Annabelle was with George, although sometimes I think mama prefers Amelia; I would bet my best bonnet it’s because she’s quieter and easier to manage for all Annabelle is the daughter of a viscount.” Here Meg took a breath. “That left Mr. Pratt with Amelia, which he didn’t like at all, but I have to say it was probably better than being with his sister. Mr. McInnes was paired with Miss Fancot, and mother told me it would be a shame for a girl of her caliber to be wasted on him, but better him than Mr. Lawrence and she told me not to fall in love with him, and that she was sorry but he was left over and I didn’t mind at all, for he rows very well having been on the team at school or something, but I assure you I did not fall in love with him, for he still gives me shivers if I think on him.”
“I...see. And did no one leave early?”
Meg paused for a moment. “No, I think not. Or at least not very much, for we all came to shore again at the same time and walked back together. Of course, I didn’t see who came home first, for I was so distracted. You see, Mr. McInnes and Miss Fancot said not ONE word to each other the whole time, although I am surprised her mama let her come at all, come to think of it. And there they were paired up and Cynthia so sure they were a match, something about them being of a height. So, of course, I decided to talk to him, for he is so very curious. Do you know he does keep sheep? But he doesn’t name them, says that’s a waste of time.”
Jane peered at Meg intently. “You had a whole conversation with Mr. McInnes?”
Meg’s mouth quirked. “Yes! Well...that is, I asked questions and he answered very shortly, but I had no problem interpreting what he’d left out.”
“I see. Well, I am glad you had such a pleasant experience.”
They were interrupted by Lord Harrington, who had come over on purpose to invite them to look at the puzzle of the Egyptian map he’d had made. Jane agreed at once, and they rose and went to the table where the odd shaped pieces were waiting to be put together.
“What a curious idea.” Jane quickly warmed to this notion of matching pieces of a map to fit.
“Yes. Childish, perhaps, but then I always preferred children’s games.” Lord Harrington sat back to allow others a chance at the puzzle.
“I am sure it is a mark of what an excellent father you will make, my lord.” Miss Pratt complimented as she turned her nose at the puzzle and removed herself to a conversation with Sir Reginald and her brother.
Lord Harrington raised an eyebrow at Jane and her mouth bent as she fingered the curved piece in her hand.
Margaret commented, “I could never understand the appeal, but I confess, I almost always bore of games easily.”
Mr. Lawrence reached for a piece, as he added, “I have heard of a doctor in Devon who brings puzzles to his home bound patients. He says it’s a most excellent way of entertaining the mind, and they’re less apt to rise sooner than he prescribes.”
Meg laughed. “That sounds exactly the sort of situation where I would enjoy such diversions.” Mr. McInnes came up quietly behind her and viewed the puzzle, his hands on the back of her chair. Despite not having seen him, Lady Margaret immediately sat up straighter, her face quieter.
“It seems incredible to see a map of places I’ve only heard about. As if it’s real!” Miss Stanley’s face lit up as she put a piece in place and Meg pressed her lips together.
“It does seem as if they’re make-believe sometimes and explorers are only very good storytellers.” Jane commiserated.
“Oh that is just what I meant, Miss Shaw. I am sure every time my uncle writes a letter from India I wish myself there.”
Good natured conversation continued, and when Jane retired, it was with a smile. Her thoughts turned to the different men of the group as she climbed the stairs wondering once more who had been her mysterious friend, but still at a loss as to who it could be.
Sarah helped her undress, and grabbing Udolpho off of her night stand, she laid in bed with a candle for comfort. She only read a page, though, before her thoughts turned once again to her observations of the rest of the evening. The slightly more marked attention Lord Petersham gave Mary, or the fact that Mr. McInnes refused to converse with anyone except Meg. Or that Lord Harrington had retired early, white with a slight limp he’d tried hard to hide. Or Cynthia Pratt and Sir Reginald looking at each other in a way Jane couldn’t quite pinpoint. As her eyes closed, her last thought was of the letter she wrote and the secret hope that her anonymous friend had found it.