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CYNTHIA PRATT WAS THE type of girl to listen when her modiste recommended the latest styles or colors. As a result, her emerald green riding habit was the very latest fashion, but did nothing for her beautiful blue eyes that were zeroed in on the stables.
The stable boy bowed and brought forward Clover which Lord Harrington had said she could use at any time. As the boy retrieved the mounting block, she questioned him. “Has Lord Harrington appeared yet?”
She planted herself in the saddle and looked down at the boy, who replied, “Yes’m.”
Cynthia frowned, the wrinkles coming naturally. “When did he appear?”
“I couldn’t say, miss.”
“You couldn’t say, or you...couldn’t say?”
“I couldn’t say.”
She hmphed and moved Clover forward. She was about to ask which direction he had ridden when she heard hoof beats and turned to see Lord Harrington come trotting into the yard.
“Good morning, my lord!” She smiled and raised a hand in greeting.
“Good morning, Miss Pratt.” He swung down from the saddle. “Thank you, Peter.” He patted his horse fondly, “Thank you, Mermaid.”
“I have never understood your name for that magnificent horse. It is quite ridiculous.” She raised her eyebrows at him.
Lord Harrington turned to look at her. “Enjoy your ride, Miss Pratt.” He bowed and turned to walk away.
“My lord, I had hoped you would enjoy it with me.” Cynthia was all sweet smiles as she tilted her head just so.
“I hope you will forgive me, Miss Pratt. Business lately has made it harder to put an exact time on when I ride in the mornings. I beg you will excuse me.”
Frowning, Cynthia watched him enter the house, then gestured to the groom to help her down. That done, she made her way inside where she found her mother fingering the outdated curtains in her room.
“I have heard the most audacious rumor, Cynthia.” Her mother looked at her and frowned. “What, you are returned already? Really, Cynthia, you cannot catch a man if you are never around to show him what he wants.”
Cynthia plopped into a chair but immediately straightened under her mother’s gaze. “He was just returning. Apparently his schedule is no longer predictable.”
Lady Wyndham’s frown deepened. “And was Miss Shaw with him?”
“No.”
Lady Wyndham stood, pulling her night-rail tighter. “We shall have to be vigilant. And something should really be done about this habit of his, riding at all hours. What can he be thinking?”
“But isn’t it a good thing she wasn’t accompanying him on his early morning ride?”
“My dear, you must remember to prepare for the worse. She could be, as you suggest, not invited, or perhaps she is aware and they have planned to ride at a different time together to avoid your company. If you assume that, it is not a good thing at all, and we must act accordingly.” Lady Wyndham fingered the draperies once more. “And I quite agree, this room should be updated the moment you are married.”
“And if your suppositions are all incorrect?” Cynthia eyed the offensive curtain.
“Then we are prepared for naught which is better than not being prepared at all.” Mary had brought a pot of tea and Lady Wyndham handed a cup to Cynthia with the air of experience. “Now, we must discuss this rumor. Apparently there are letters being exchanged.”
Cynthia began a smile. “Yes. Let me tell you what I have found out.”
***
TYING HER BONNET UNDER her chin, Jane exited the garden at a pace. She was worse than a child, she thought, for she could not wait to hide in the trees and exercise her worries away. She made quick headway in her anger, and by the time she reached the first oak, her hands were no longer shaking, and her face was wet. She leaned against a large trunk and considered this morning’s conversation with Lady Harrington.
“Miss Shaw, I cannot deny you are a young woman of good sense, but you will be leaving soon and it cannot be good to tie yourself so strongly to anyone of this party knowing you will hardly ever see them again.”
Jane clenched her fists remembering the lengthy list of admonitions.
“And I hardly need remind you that a young woman of good taste should never exert herself for a man, particularly one that is far above her both socially and financially.”
Jane had attempted to protest. “My lady, I do not understand. I assure you –”
“In short, Miss Shaw, I expect you to behave with more decorum than you have in the past several days, adhering to the good breeding you were born with. I cannot, of course, deny you have been a settling influence on Margaret, but I urge you to remember your place when you interact with the young men.”
Jane’s protests were in vain as Lady Harrington continued, her eyes boring holes through her own.
“This will include riding with no one that could ever offer you marriage or meeting with them in any respect other than a large group.”
Jane grit her teeth, the urge to punch something overpowering. She considered Lady Harrington’s final words.
“Of course, Mr. Makon would be an excellent exception, as I have said before. And while I cannot think Mr. Lawrence an appropriate match for you, I have noticed your growing regard, so perhaps you would be the making of him.”
She dismissed the thought that Lady Harrington was correct on all counts, and told her rational side to shut up and let her be. Her head ached, but she continued to walk in a loopy fashion with little direction. A rustle came from her right and she stopped as she heard voices. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she quietly turned to go when she caught a glimpse of the meeting.
Lady Margaret faced someone, her back to Jane. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her bonnet hanging down her back. She didn’t bother to temper her voice as she accused. “How could I have thought otherwise?”
A man protested, his voice much softer. “Lady Margaret, I assure you, had I thought you would mistake my intentions, I –”
“Your intentions? To meet me for a ride each morning. To stand close enough to....to...” By now she was almost yelling. Her hands unclasped and she brought them to her face turning to the side and allowing Jane to see the man. She gasped; Mr. McInnes was standing, no leaning forward as if in supplication. Jane stepped back, sure she should not be hearing this conversation.
“As I said, my lady, I did not mean to mislead you.” His voice was in complete control despite his stance, and Meg looked at him, standing, her hands in front of her, her shoulders drooped.
“I do not believe you.” She exited to the right leaving Mr. McInnes with more emotion on his face than Jane had seen him with since his arrival.
Worried for Meg, she turned to leave and find her. She had barely cleared the trees when she looked up to see Mr. Lawrence coming towards her.
“Hello Miss Shaw.” He gave a brief smile. “I saw you walk toward the woods but couldn’t quite keep up with you.”
“I beg your pardon. I found myself in need of solitude for a moment, you see.”
“Of course. Perhaps we may walk back together?” He offered her his arm, his quiet smile in place.
“Thank you.”
“Forgive me, but you seem distressed. Is everything alright?”
“Thank you. I assure you I am very well, and have only a headache to worry about.”
“Is there anything I might do to help?”
Her voice was dry. “I will be alright soon enough, thank you.”
“Miss Shaw, may we sit here for a moment?” He pointed to a bench that had the nerve to be vacant, and with a hidden sigh, she sat. “If you would rather return to the house and rest, I would be happy to accompany you there.”
“The shade is very lovely, and I am quite content.” She smiled as she looked out towards the lake wishing she had found Meg and wondering what could have happened, but her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Lawrence clearing his throat.
“Miss Shaw, I was invited here at Lord Harrington’s request, and despite my refusals found myself here at his leisure. At first I was a little resentful, for I miss my research. However, I quickly realized there were opportunities of another nature in my grasp. Miss Shaw,” Here he turned towards her, his gaze intense. “I had hoped to court you with the intention of marrying you.”
Jane gasped for the second time in less than five minutes. “I....Mr. Lawrence, you do me a great honor, for you are an excellent man and already a good friend. I do not think, however, that I should accept you.” She tried to say this kindly, her focus on him despite her thoughts being elsewhere.
He looked down at the ground, then back up at her, his eyes intelligent and piercing. “Is it my lack of fortune? I have not yet asked your uncle’s permission to court you, but perhaps you feel he would not approve?”
“I believe my aunt and uncle would have no objection to your situation.” Her thoughts drifted to dark wavy hair with an impertinent eyebrow and broad shoulders. She remembered their shared laughter, their intelligent conversations. Was this love?
“Are you engaged to someone else, then? Forgive me, but Lady Harrington assured me you have no prospects. I assumed since you have very little dowry that perhaps you would be willing to accept me.” He choked out the last word and she realized how vulnerable he was at this moment. It startled her, the thought that his admiration for her could be so strong. She looked at his dark eyes, so intent on her own, her heart softening. Was love like this, where you grasped at straws of faith with the hope it would grow?
She thought for a moment, as she worded her reply. “I am not engaged, but I must tell you I feel at conflict, for my heart is not entirely free.”
“I had not realized.” His face was grave, his expression thoughtful, and Jane found herself studying his straight nose, his almond shaped eyes, and the curve of his chin. Could this already dear friendship become something more? “Perhaps I have not expressed myself well, but I thought your sensible nature would appreciate the forthright method with which I have...” He grabbed her hand. “You see, Miss Shaw, I admire you very much. I cannot pretend a passion I do not feel, but I am convinced our friendship, and the admiration I already feel for you will grow with our acquaintance. I do not make that statement lightly. Indeed, I do not know to whom your heart is attached, but I will only ask that you allow me to court you without any expectation. I truly feel that as we further our acquaintance, we will come to an understanding and indeed, we should make an excellent match.”
She looked at their hands, then met his gaze, which quietly entreated her to understand. “I confess, I agree with you. But could you be content knowing my heart might belong to another?”
“I truly believe that any attachments would fade with time. Forgive me, it is a hopeful thought, but one I cannot help but use. You see, we are of a similar mind; active and intelligent, and in you I believe I have found a partner who will share my life rather than live in it.”
She breathed out, wondering if he had read her mind. He was entirely right, for their friendship was an excellent foundation for a marriage. Indeed, she had promised her aunt she would accept any reasonable proposal only...she turned her head back to him and met his intense coffee-colored eyes once more.
“Mr. Lawrence, I will allow you to court me, but I can make no promise to the future.” He smiled and took her other hand; she shivered at his touch, but didn’t remove it. “I believe I understand you, but if our attachment does not grow further and I find myself still unable to give you my heart fully, I could not think it right to accept you.”
“Your honesty does you credit, Miss Shaw.” He paused and looked at her hands, then looked up once more. “I realize my address is very probably the cold calculation of a professor, but I hope you have understood my feelings for you are very real and very...” Here his ears turned pink, and she smiled.
“You do not need to explain. I am well convinced of your admiration.” She hurried to reassure him.
“Perhaps I will get better at explaining myself as we continue on.” He took one of her hands and kissed it, then pulled her to her feet. “Will you allow me to escort you back to the house?”
She nodded, wishing he would leave her alone with her thoughts, but grateful he had not.
***
DEAR FRIEND,
I do not know if you have decided to end this friendship, but I must write you again, for I am very unnerved. I cannot tell any other, for they will advise me in ways that may not be comfortable, and I hesitate to burden them with my thoughts. I hope if it is too personal or you feel uncomfortable, that you will throw this in the fire and be done. I find I must get my thoughts down regardless, and apologize for not having the foresight to acquire a diary.
Mr. Lawrence has requested the opportunity to court me. I refused at first, unsure of my heart, but he is assured that on further acquaintance we will have formed a strong attachment. He is not only an excellent man, but a thoughtful one as well who provides meaningful conversation and true attendance to my own opinion. When we first met I even harbored a hope that our friendship would grow into something more. However, this feels the greatest of deceits, for I do not return his affections with the same fervor. Indeed, I confess my heart feels pulled in another direction due to the attentions of another. Despite these conclusions, I have told him he may continue to further our acquaintance, for I promised my aunt I would not refuse any reasonable proposal of marriage.
I must also add that this morning I was summoned to Lady Harrington’s side, where I was given to understand I am being incautious with regards to my association with Lord Harrington, and once more was given great detail on how he is promised to Miss Pratt. I cannot help but wonder why no official engagement has been announced and why Lady Harrington is so distressed at the thought of my association if she is so certain of the future.
If you find you truly do not wish to write again, I want you to know I am grateful for your friendship. I wish you the best in your future explorations.
Miss Shaw
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JANE SIGNED HER NOTE with not a little apprehension, and then left the library in search of Meg.
She found her in the garden, tucked behind some grumpy hydrangea bushes. There she sat, pulling the cream petals off with gusto, and when she found Jane looking down at her with worry, she huffed.
“You needn’t look at me like that, Jane.” She frowned at the shredded petals in her hand. “As if you know everything about everyone and what to do about it.” She threw her mangled pile onto the ground and stood. “You don’t always know everything Miss Shaw!” And with that, she stormed past her, Jane’s face white, her mouth open in astonishment.
It was a few moments before she collected herself, but Jane quickly ran after her friend, confused at the entire conversation. She found her in the library, assisted by the ever knowing Simmons and his gesture in the right direction.
“Lady Margaret?” Jane quietly called her name after finding her on a windowsill staring out at nothing. Jane sat on the other end and waited.
Lady Margaret turned her head, which was white and red, all blotchy from crying. She stared at Jane with puffy eyes.
Jane held her hand out towards her friend. “You’re right. I don’t know anything. Except, of course, that my dear friend is upset and I would give the world to help make it right, whatever it is.”
“Oh Jane.” Meg reached back and Jane pulled her into a hug. They stayed there for some time while Meg had a good cry and then suddenly she looked up, her eyes wrung dry.
“Dear Jane.” She sat back, her dress crumpled. “I’m so sorry. Won’t you forgive me? I’m such a beast when I’m upset.” Her short, quiet sentences made Jane frown.
“My dear Meg, it is forgotten. I would help you though, if I possibly can?”
“Oh Jane, you cannot make someone fall in love can you?”
“No.”
Meg looked out the window. “And you could not make someone fall out of love either, could you?”
Jane whispered. “No.”
***
DINNER WAS STILTED that evening, with everyone slightly too polite. Mr. McInnes had the gall to talk with his dinner partners, which Meg ignored while she sat on the opposite end of the table flirting with an amused Sir Reginald. Lord Wyndham said something about ninnies who thought too much of themselves. This was in reference to Jane sitting next to his son, but Mary, who was on his other side, grew white. Lord Petersham, sitting opposite, contemplated her reaction, but pressed his lips together and focused on his fascinating bowl of soup. Lord Harrington looked at everyone with wrinkles in his forehead, Jane sighed too often, and Mr. Lawrence had the intelligence to keep quiet through it all. Only Miss Pratt seemed to have any energy to spare, and that diminished each time Sir Reginald laughed at Meg’s conversation.
It was this worn out group that made their way to the drawing room after dinner, the men not even bothering to wait for their port. When Jane was the first to retire, collective sighs (and Lady Cheswick’s teeth) were heard as others began to immediately follow suit. Despite this exodus, Jane ran into no one as she made her way to the library to find the unexpected delight of a letter waiting for her. She had just reached her room, her finger snug under the seal, when she heard a footstep.
“Miss Shaw.”
Letting go of her doorknob, she turned, hiding the letter behind her back. “My lord.” Her eyes dropped as her emotions played tug ‘o war.
“Would you care to join me for a ride tomorrow morning at seven o’clock?”
Jane’s face popped up to meet his gaze, but she quickly transferred her eyes to the cluster of freckles underneath. “My lord?”
“I find myself otherwise occupied at six, but would still enjoy a ride if you are game.”
She met his eyes once more, looking at him for a moment. “Then I shall join you, my lord.”
“Thank you, Miss Shaw.” He bowed with a small smile in hand, and left.
Jane stood there for a moment, her heart lighter but her stomach still confused.
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MISS SHAW,
I must apologize for a lack of discretion on my part. I responded to your letter very late Saturday and placed it under your door in the hope you would receive it sooner than your forays to the box. I am assuming you did not receive that letter, and therefore another has confiscated it for their unknown purpose. In which case, I will from this point forward not try to hurry along our correspondence. This begs a personal question; are you close friends with Miss Pratt? Please forgive my inquiry – as a man I struggle to understand the inner workings of the female mind.
I am sorry to hear of your conversation with Lady Harrington and can only reiterate that from my observations, Lord Harrington enjoys your conversation and company very much. I believe his consistent attentions to you proof of this.
Lastly, I cannot possibly imagine myself in a position to advise you on matrimony, but I can at least attest to Mr. Lawrence’s character. He can be very serious, but I believe he feels emotion deeply but perhaps has reason (or wisdom) to hide it better than most. If he has expressed a wish to court you, I am sure it is with the highest of regard. I cannot fault his taste, but I can only say if you feel no wish to join yourself with Mr. Lawrence, I understand it is not out of any selfishness, and can only applaud you for wishing to spare anyone any unhappiness.
Your friend
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GREENGATE HOUSE, SUFFOLK
July 1, 1813
Dear Jane,
I have heard only the best of Holcombe Manor, so you must be in the very best of company! Dear John and I have only just returned to his home, and Greengate is really a lovely place with gardens that rival the best I’ve seen. I had thought you met Lord Petersham this past season, in fact I’m sure of it – do you not remember telling me how handsome he was? I quite agreed at the time, but of course that was before I met dear John! You must tell me of Cynthia Pratt, for it is all over that she is engaged to Lord Harrington and is a perfect cat for all her being a diamond of the first water! John told me he was sure of it too, but then Lord Harrington left so suddenly before the season was over and everyone was humming about it. Do come for a visit soon, dearest, even if you are very unflattering about my letters! I shall look for you this autumn after the harvest and we shall have a ball and look for a cottage where you can be near!
All my love,
Julia
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JANE SMILED, FOLDED her correspondence and tucked them both into the ribbon tied around the other saved letters. She pursed her lips, stood up with the packet and looked about the room. If someone had taken a letter before, surely they would try to take others. Opening her wardrobe, she spied a hatbox. It seemed rather obvious, but she supposed a really determined thief would find them anyway. She slipped them in and moved to get into bed, then turning on impulse snuck out her door.
Making her way to the third floor, she tiptoed down the dark hallway, then stopped at Meg’s door and rapped softly.
Lady Margaret peeked out and gave squeak. “Oh Jane!” Her whisper resonated through the house. “I’m so very grateful you came.” She opened her door wider to allow Jane entrance. “It was the most awful dinner, for I am sure everyone there was upset about one thing or another.” She sighed and sat on her bed, where Jane joined her. “Mother will be very put out about it tomorrow, although she seems rather put out about everything lately.” She paused. “Now tell me what is going on, for I have been distracted by,” Here she stumbled and waved her hand to catch herself. “By People...and I can tell something has happened to you, for you are forever blushing at the oddest moments.” She peered at her expectantly and Jane sighed.
“Yes, there is a lot you have missed, but Meg, I confess I am still worried about you and,” She paused and decided to use her word. “People.”
“I don’t want to talk about People. Or anything to do with...People.” She frowned. “Tell me, Jane.”
“Very well, but you must allow me to caution you against Sir Reginald. He is not the answer and anyway he is much too experienced to flirt with, Meg. I am sure you’ll put your brothers in an early grave with such actions.”
Meg grinned, her first that day. “Yes, that is an unexpected use isn’t it?” She stopped grinning and sat forward. “No, you must stop distracting me. Tell me everything and I shall do my utmost to tell no one.”
Jane laughed at Meg’s honesty, and told her some of Lady Harrington’s admonitions and a shortened version of Mr. Lawrence’s proposal.
Meg’s eyes were wide as she finished, all events of the day set aside in her eagerness to know more. “Jane, you must accept Mr. Lawrence. Indeed, I cannot understand why you didn’t make things...well, clearer. Not that I have any idea how to do that.”
“Meg, I’m not sure I want to marry Mr. Lawrence, despite our friendship.”
“Well, I wouldn’t, but then I wouldn’t, would I?”
Jane laughed. “Oh Meg. Perhaps someday when you are old with children you will come visit and make me laugh.”
Meg scowled. “Well, of course I will. But we are not done discussing this. I am sure Mary will be able to say all the right things, so we must tell her about it tomorrow. Meanwhile, tell me what in the devil is going on with her and George?”
Jane’s eyes popped.
“Oh, Jane, you know I am forever forgetting to watch my tongue. Do hurry and forgive me and tell me what you know!” Meg’s excitement made Jane grin once more and they settled into happy suppositions until late. Meg decided it was much too dark and scary for Jane to venture into the hall once more, so Jane found an extra throw and laid next to Meg.
“Meg?” Jane’s voice searched through the dark.
“I’m still here, goose.”
“Do you think this is what it’s like to have a sister?” She heard a shuffle as Meg found her hand and squeezed it.
Jane was almost asleep when she heard the soft sigh, “I love him, Jane. I know it’s silly. But I do. And I think he might love me too. At least....”
And with her wish, they fell asleep.