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JANE MADE HER WAY TO the library and stared at the desk. She wanted to thank her mysterious friend for the loan of the book but wondered if it was too forward to continue a correspondence. She stood there for some time before deciding in favor of writing the letter. After all, she could debate the sending of it later. With that reassuring thought, she sat and began.
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DEAR FRIEND,
Thank you for the loan of The Lady of the Lake. Sir Walter Scott has a way of writing that feels so fluid and it was much more palatable than Udolpho. I found myself quite equal to the task of putting my feet on the floor this morning without being concerned they would be dragged under the bed.
Gratefully,
Jane Shaw
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“MISS SHAW?” STARTLED, she looked up to see Lord Harrington looking down at her, a quiet smile on his face.
“I...my lord.” She stood, now flustered, and curtsied.
“None of that, please. I merely wanted to know if you were interested in a game of chess.”
“Are you sure? Me, my lord?” Her mouth was open a little, confusion spilling out.
His smile pulled up a little more. “I couldn’t help but notice your interest when I played against my brother. I assumed you knew how to play. Was I incorrect in my assumption?”
“I do know how to play, but I’m not sure I would make a good opponent. I’m afraid I lack the ability.”
He shook his head. “I do not mind your lack of ability if such is true, and I find I have some time before my next appointment.”
“Then sir, I would enjoy that very much.” He nodded and she stood. “Only...I cannot think...should we call for Meg perhaps?”
Lord Harrington smiled. “I have left the door wide open and have moved the table so it is in view of the doorway. If it would make you more comfortable, however, I would be more than happy to call for Meg.”
Jane looked to the doorway where she watched Lord Cheswick pass, entirely oblivious.
“I believe you have been most efficient in your preparations and I would be happy to oblige you, my lord.” She folded the paper and put a wafer on it and tucking it into her pocket, turned towards the table.
Lord Harrington watched with the slightest tilt to his mouth. “Miss Shaw, I would be happy to frank any letters for you.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“I...of course, sir, I...am still deciding if I should send it or not.” She looked down at the table rather than meet his eyes.
“In the event that you decide to send it, I should be happy to do so for you.” Jane nodded and looked back to the board, praying he did not insist.
“White or black, Miss Shaw?” Lord Harrington held out a queen in each hand.
She looked at his eyes for a clue. “Which do you prefer?”
“My dear Miss Shaw, you should never give your opponent the advantage.” He shook his head.
She smiled and feeling bold claimed the white queen from his palm.
“Good girl.”
After situating her queen, Jane moved a pawn and looked up to see him watching her. He smiled, moved a pawn of his own, then said, “And what should we wager, Miss Shaw?”
Startled, she responded, “I...what?”
“Come now, a friendly wager is just the thing, don’t you think?” By now he was smiling a bit larger, his eyes dancing.
“I wouldn’t know what to ask for, my lord, and frankly your history with wagers sounds rather dangerous.” Her eyes were wide as she remembered the stories which she felt sure Meg had not exaggerated.
“Well, you’ll have to think of something, you know. For my part, I should like you to come riding with me every morning for a week.”
“Riding? But...” she spluttered.
“There’s nothing dangerous in a ride before breakfast Miss Shaw. Besides, I would never make any wager a misery for you. I only do that for Lord Petersham.” He smiled and she blinked. “Come, come, make your move. Are you hovering over your bishop? I’m not sure I recommend that.” He gestured toward the board.
“Oh, now you’re being patronizing. I can hover all I...I mean, my lord.”
He laughed. “There you are.” He leaned back. “You must want something.”
“I....perhaps.” She stopped and looked at the board, all of a sudden realizing what he was going to do. She moved her knight, then looked at him. “Do you have it in your power to maneuver partners for the games on Friday?”
His mouth twitched. “Yes.”
“Then I should like you to pair Mr. McInnes with Lady Margaret.”
He sat forward, his forehead wrinkled. “Why on earth should you care to pair them up?”
“I am meddling.” She gave a small smile.
He watched her, his eyes curious now. “Yes you are. And for what purpose, I wonder?”
“I believe my purpose is of no consequence.” She smiled at him and it was his turn to blink.
“What? Come now, your purpose is now my curiosity.” His forehead was now ironed smooth, and he smiled back.
She folded her arms, resting them on the table in front of her. “My suppositions are merely that, I assure you.”
“I should like to know these suppositions anyways.”
She rolled a pawn between her fingers before looking up to explain. “I merely suspect Mr. McInnes and Lady Margaret of having a mutual interest in each other.”
“Balderdash.” With barely a glance at the board, he adjusted his bishop to create a trap.
“You may be right, my lord, however, it would be entirely harmless to have them paired for the day.” She ignored his trap and moved her rook.
“Very well. But I am certain you are wrong, for they are the very opposite in temperament.”
“I believe them both to be of a passionate nature. Mr. McInnes has merely learned how to temper his emotions, while Lady Margaret still enjoys hers.” She hesitated. “Or, as you say, I may be entirely incorrect.” She smiled once more as she moved a pawn. “How early do you enjoy your ride?”
“Six o’clock. Oh come now, Miss Shaw, it’s not that early.” He raised one eyebrow.
“I....” she closed her mouth. “I envy you your ability to raise your eyebrow like that.”
He looked confused. “Like what?”
“One eyebrow raised when you’re being sarcastic or surprised or....when Sir Reginald comments about unmentionables.”
The Earl of Harrington laughed out loud. “And with that, Miss Shaw, I think I have checkmate.”
“No sir, for my bishop has foreseen and....I have taken your knight.” She sat back with a grin on her face.
“You seem very good at defensive moves, Miss Shaw, but your lack of an offense is your downfall, for I,” and here he moved a pawn which allowed for, “have checkmate. Again.” He folded his arms and looked at her while she studied the board.
She sighed then looked at him. “Six o’clock it is, my lord. Congratulations.” Neither of them moved, however, studying the board so easily demolished.
Jane ventured. “Do you really wish to get rid of the blue couch?”
He raised one eyebrow with an easy smile. “For the past nearly 30 years it has been my resolution, but never fulfilled.”
“I confess I am surprised at your inability to do so, for Lady Margaret tells the most outrageous stories of you and your brother. But of course, perhaps it is the challenge of doing so without offending your mother?”
“Miss Shaw, that would truly be a feat of Herculean greatness.”
She stood as the clock chimed. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for dinner.”
He stood as well and gave a quick bow, “Of course. And I shall continue to contemplate the removal of said couch.”
She shook her head. “No, my lord. I did not win any compensation.” Her smile was returned.
“Then perhaps a rematch someday soon?”
“I think, like Lord Petersham, I had better practice before I try again.” She left, flinging a smile over her shoulder with her comment. He looked down at the board and picked up her queen, tossing it in the air before putting it back.
Simmons entered the room. “My lord? I am here to remind you that dinner is within the hour.”
“Yes, thank you Simmons.”
“Chess, my lord? Anything I should be prepared for?” The butler’s face was creased with concern.
“No, no. I wasn’t playing George.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Simmons bowed and Charles shook his head, his smile firmly in place.
***
JANE LEFT HER ROOM dressed for dinner, with a stray curl bouncing against her neck. She detoured towards the library, and burst through the door. Her day had ended in confidence with a hint of Meg’s brashness. With a smile, she placed her note on the desk, then hurried to dinner.
The evening was entirely predictable with Miss Pratt monopolizing Lord Harrington while Lord Cheswick mumbled under his breath to his wife who needed only clack her teeth in response. Mr. Makon quoted scripture, Mr. McInnes said nothing, Meg everything, and Sir Reginald made Lady Harrington’s eyebrows rise no less than three times before the fish.
Since the evening’s entertainment would most likely be cards or impromptu dancing, Jane felt a little bored and prepared to retire early despite Mr. Lawrence immediately claiming the chair to her left.
She had just turned to say goodnight to Meg, when Miss Pratt piped up. “My lords, surely we can try something new tonight.”
Lord Petersham stood up, his hands expressive. “I have just the thing. Mr. Makon, weren’t you just telling us how well your sister can capture a likeness?”
Mr. Makon nodded. “She is remarkably good at it. Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies.”
“Ah...yes.” Lord Petersham turned to look at Mary, his eyes sparkling. “Miss Makon, won’t you be so good as to draw portraits of us all? It shall make for good fun as we guess who they are, and we may keep them as a souvenir, what?”
Mary only gave a hint of a blush as she grinned back at Lord Petersham.
“Or perhaps we may give them to another.” Cynthia said pointedly, her eyes landing on Lord Harrington.
“An excellent notion, Petersham.” Reg nodded.
“I’m afraid I do not have my sketchbook with me.” Mary’s quiet comment brought protests.
“If that is all you lack, you may borrow mine and any pencils you like.”
“Hurrah, Miss Shaw, you have saved the day.” Lord Petersham smiled at her while Cynthia rolled her eyes in her sister’s direction.
“Thank you Jane, I’m sure that will work very well.”
“I shall go fetch them. No, no, I am sure Sarah would not know where to look, and I do not mind.” Jane quickly left to get the supplies, suddenly very grateful she had decided to dress her hair nicer this evening.
She returned and handed her sketchbook to Mary along with a few pencils, seating herself in the chair adjacent. Mary flipped open the cover and turning past a few pages, suddenly stopped.
“Jane?” Realizing she had drawn attention, Mary hurried and continued to a blank page. “You must all situate yourself in a way that I may draw your face.” She waited while they grouped themselves, the women carefully arranging their skirts or adjusting their curls. Lord Petersham made a show of trying to tame his hair that had everyone in fits for a few minutes, but soon they all settled down to conversation as they waited to see who was first.
“Jane, was that...?” Mary whispered while she sketched, her head leaned towards her friend.
Jane knew exactly the sketch she had seen, for she rarely did portraits. “I found myself intrigued by his face one day, but of course it turned out dreadful. I’m surprised you could even recognize him.” She whispered back, despite the lack of attention on them.
Mary looked at her, then back at her sketch. “I did not realize you knew him that well.”
“Mary, what can you mean?” Her voice rose, and she tempered herself to a whisper once more. “What makes you say so?”
“I am an artist, Jane. I can tell when the subject has been studied well.”
Jane fidgeted with her gloves. “I have gone on several walks with him, and even riding once.”
Mary nodded. “So it is clear he has intentions towards you.”
“Perhaps. I find myself conflicted and can only hope the more time spent in his company the clearer I find his character and my own opinions.”
“I think you are very wise, but I think I can still guess the ending.” And with a gentle smile, Mary turned her sketch for the room to see.
The first portrait was immediately guessed to be Lord Petersham, and was so successful, that even his mother pronounced it an excellent likeness. Mary handed the finished work to him, then proceeded to draw the portraits of the rest of the group. Jane’s portrait was done at the end when conversation and interest in the project had moved on to other things, and so it was without the aplomb of the first results that Jane was shown her own face.
“It is well done.” Lord Harrington was standing behind her looking down at it and she blushed at his closeness.
“May I?” He inquired and she handed him the drawing. It was passed to Lord Petersham, then Mr. Lawrence, and even Mr. McInnes required a moment with it until finally Jane couldn’t quite remember who had it anymore. She had just decided to see if she could find it when Lord Petersham spoke once more, his hands raised to support him.
“I have just had the best idea. Let us put our portraits on the table and whoever wants them can take them. If your portrait is still there at the end of the night, you are free to keep it, but that way anyone who admires you may have a chance to keep your likeness.”
“Oh George, that does seem vulgar.” His mother frowned as she turned from her conversation with Lady Wyndham.
Lord Petersham frowned, but then quickly smiled. “Or perhaps you may only put your portrait on the table if you wish – would that be more acceptable?” Jane smiled and shook her head as his mother gave her approving nod.
“I think it a most excellent idea, and I am very prepared to give up mine.” Miss Pratt laid her likeness on the table and sat back with Miss Annabelle, her eyes trailing Lord Harrington.
“Jolly good, Miss Pratt. I shall too, of course.” Lord Petersham set down his portrait. A smattering of portraits followed until there was a small pile.
“Excellent. Now, you must go about your activities and may only retrieve a portrait when you retire for the evening. And of course, you may only take one.” He shook his finger at them and went to soundly beat Sir Reginald at chess while a foursome started a game of whist. A few heads looked back at the table on occasion.
“I wish I knew where mine was, for I would most certainly keep it.” Jane spoke to Meg, who grinned.
“Oh Jane, but that’s the fun of it, isn’t it, and anyway how romantic to have a portrait of –” Here she stopped and looked towards Mr. McInnes, who was rifling through the portraits. He stopped and picked one up, shoving it into his pocket before his silent bow of departure to Lady Harrington. Meg looked back at Jane; her lips pressed together, her eyes distracted.
“Miss Shaw, Lady Margaret, may I join you?” Mr. Lawrence smiled down on them, and very soon their group had built up, their conversation pleasant but unable to hold Jane’s attention.
“Well, I am supposed to rise early, so I had better retire now.” Jane said goodnight to those concerned and moved to the table, Meg following her.
“Whom are you going to choose?” She whispered, her head turned to catch Jane’s expression.
“I’m looking for mine, of course. Oh drat, I can’t find it.” And truthfully, she looked through each to find hers was still missing. She looked about, but no one seemed to be holding a piece of paper, and she felt awkward asking.
Frustrated, she turned to Meg. “If you see it, you’ll grab it for me, won’t you?”
Meg sighed. “Alright. But you should have picked one, you know. For someone must have your portrait.” And with that cryptic response, Jane left the room.