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DEAR FRIEND,
I hope we had an opportunity to dance last night, but I confess I cannot see how it was managed.
In case you did not know, I am practicing a duet with Lord Harrington. I hope to perform it with him soon in the hopes of both overcoming my fears and playing for you.
Jane
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JANE HURRIED DOWN THE stairs, her breath coming faster as her speed grew. Mr. Lawrence had said he was leaving at eight o’clock in the morning, and Jane knew she should say goodbye, especially if he was to become her husband one day. She stopped short, clasping the banister, then looked up to see Simmons in front of her.
“Miss Shaw, Mr. Lawrence is leaving almost this moment, but has expressed the desire to wait until he has seen you.”
“Oh! I am coming directly, I....thank you!” She called as she ran out the front door and down the stairs. She halted in front of Mr. Lawrence who looked surprisingly well in his black hat.
“Jane.” He grasped one of her hands.
“I wanted to say goodbye. I...can’t tell you what your friendship has meant to me.”
“I feel the same. And I hope,” He grabbed her other hand, holding them both now in front of him. “I hope October will come quickly.”
She blushed as he lowered her hands, moving even closer to her. “Jane, I...” He stopped, and gently leaned down to kiss her softly on the cheek. He stepped back to look at her, his ears as pink as her face. “Would you allow me to write to you?”
“Yes.” She squeaked out the word as he gave a shy grin. Letting go of her hands, he turned and made his way to his horse. “Good bye, Jane.”
“Good bye.” She gave a small wave as he rode off, still not quite comfortable with calling him ‘Robert’.
As she turned around, she swallowed a gasp. There to the left of the stairs stood Lord Harrington, Lord Petersham, Lord Wyndham, Lady Margaret, and with a triumphant look on her face, Lady Harrington.
Her face hot, her eyes on the stone steps, she hurried up them, thoroughly embarrassed.
It was a subdued Jane that made her way to the library to hopefully retrieve a letter. She noticed the seal didn’t seem tampered with, but wondered if the culprit was becoming more skilled or if she was becoming more paranoid.
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MY DEAR JANE,
I cannot tell you if we danced or not last evening, for that would limit the options severely either way. I do hope you enjoyed the lemon mousse though, for it was excellent. I wanted to tell you how well you looked in your dress, but I must confess to remembering nothing of its appearance. Forgive me my lapse in memory.
I also overheard Mr. Lawrence explain his philosophy on love and his theories regarding true selflessness. I did not, however, get to hear your answer – would you tell me? I feel safe in telling you I am not Mr. Lawrence as you would have noticed our letters continue despite his absence.
I am aware of your arrangement with Lord Harrington and am in anticipation of your performance.
Your friend
***
JANE’S BONNET DANGLED from her fingers as she drifted through the garden, smiling as she considered her friend’s response. Sir Reginald smirked as he came towards her, twirling his quizzer about his finger. Disconcerted, her smile fell a little but she continued forward despite his approach.
“Miss Shaw.” He drew even closer and she stopped, the bonnet bumping against her leg.
“Sir Reginald.” She curtsied as he blocked her path.
She took a step back as he moved forward, a lazy grin on his face. He reached out, his arms longer than she had anticipated and grabbed the back of her head. She tried to pull back but the other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. His lips were on hers as she reached her hands up between them and tried to push him away. He pulled her tighter despite her objections then released her as he said, “What, you don’t approve of how I express my friendship?”
Her jaw dropped – he couldn’t possibly be - his lack of hold on her was so abrupt that she stumbled back. To her right she saw Lord Harrington, his face carved inhuman as he turned abruptly and left.
She turned back, “How could you? How could you?!”
Her tears were streaming now as Sir Reginald shrugged and mumbled, “Well, if you had bothered to participate it would have been much more enjoyable,” continuing toward the house.
Jane ran, her face hot and cold in turns. She reached the forest where too many obstacles forced her to a walk. Her feet came down in great clumps and she was crying. At a noise, she looked up to see Lord Harrington, whose stony face stared at her.
“Miss Shaw. Are you well?” His face was closed, and she felt the obligation.
“Please. I must tell you. I must...I must explain.” Something in her face must have looked wretched and as she came closer his forehead debated.
“Are you crying? Jane, whatever is the matter?” He reached her in a stride and pulling out his handkerchief pressed it into her hands.
“Thank you. I’m sorry, it was all so...” She waved her hand, her confusion silencing her explanation.
“Come, let us sit.” He led her to the large rock where they had sat previously and she sighed before she sat on it, then looked at the handkerchief in her hands. Slowly she handed it back.
He pushed it back towards her. “Please, keep it.”
“I’m finished being ridiculous.”
“I am very sure whatever you were crying over was not ridiculous.”
She crumpled the handkerchief into her fist. “My lord, you must...”
“Mr. Atwater.”
“What?”
“You said in these woods you would call me Mr. Atwater.”
She gave a quick laugh. “Very well.” She took a breath and willed herself not to bring forth fresh tears. “Mr. Atwater, I was going for a walk, but Sir Reginald came and...” Here she stopped so she would not continue crying. Instead, she gripped the handkerchief and looked out at the trees.
“I saw.”
She turned to look at him. “But you didn’t. That is, it wasn’t...”
“Tell me this, are you engaged to him?”
“What? No, no, I’ve hardly had any conversation with him.”
“I don’t understand.” He stood and started pacing in front of her. “I had thought you engaged to Mr. Lawrence, but –“
She interrupted. “He walked up and grabbed me in a most ungentlemanly manner and forced – ”
“He kissed you without any understanding and...” His jaw set. “He will answer for this.”
“No!” She grabbed his coat sleeve, and was now standing next to him, much too close. “If you should bring this to the attention of any...”
He relaxed. “There is the chance you would be forced to marry.”
“Yes, and I cannot. That is, I could not.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “It doesn’t make sense. I know Reggie, and he’s a rake, but he...” He stopped and looked away.
“He’s not usually interested in someone like me.”
“It is not an insult. Merely that he prefers brash women, preferably those with blonde hair.”
“And since there are those to spare...” Jane clapped her hands to her mouth. “I beg your pardon. That was incredibly rude of me.”
Lord Harrington’s smile was more of a grimace. “Regardless, it was entirely true.”
They stood in awkward silence, she afraid to look at him, he unable to keep his eyes off her. Her eyes came up to meet his and he gave her a quiet smile. Offering his arm, she took it, and together they walked slowly, quietly, enjoying the forest as it thickened and stilled. Soon the ground became less smooth and the rocks cobbled and jutted and hindered their strolling pace.
“Here, this is the path. It’s a little harder, but worth the view.” He looked at her and she nodded. Quickly it became only possible for one person to go forward at a time. Lord Harrington went first to show the way, but kept her hand tightly in his, leading her over the sharp rocks and awkward path. Soon they reached a flatter space knobby from the gray stones. Together they looked out at the rolling hills and farmland beyond, spread out so very striking that she sighed and drank it in. He looked over at her and smiled, and she smiled back, then both turned again to the view, their hands melded. She closed her eyes as she felt the wind rush past her and loosen her hair. Her smile grew as she opened her eyes, feeling the wind whipping about her skirts.
He turned again to face her and she realized just how close he was. How had she not noticed? Perhaps it was the magic of this place, where words seemed frivolous. He pulled her closer, pulling their hands up between them and wrapping his other arm around her waist. It was done so fluidly, she barely had time to react, her lips parting as she looked at him. Then he was kissing her, their hands threaded between them.
They pulled apart and he rested his forehead on hers. Slowly he led her back down the choppy trail, the magic fading but her lips tingling. Too soon she found they were at the edge of the grove, where he let go of her hand, instead pulling her arm through his. Only once did she look at him, only to find him looking back at her. Her face grew hot, and they both looked away, but not before she saw the smile on his face.
They entered the garden in complete silence, where Sir Reginald and Miss Pratt were seated close, talking together. Later, after she had returned to herself, she would remember how startled they both looked at the interruption, how close they had been sitting; as if they didn’t have the entire bench, how upset Cynthia looked as she saw them together and the clarity of understanding so much more from that one look. But what they said she never knew, for her ears felt stopped up. She curtsied to Lord Harrington, their departure oddly formal, then turned to do what, she knew not.
***
DEAR FRIEND,
If you had asked me what I thought of Mr. Lawrence’s ideas a month ago, I would have told you they were cold but probably accurate. I have always thought myself to be clearheaded on the subject, but I find I have been deceived about the merits of love, for they are truly remarkable. As a result, I believe him incorrect, for love surely is the unselfish force that drives so many of our decisions.
I hope you will you return the favor and allow me to know your own opinions on the subject.
Jane
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THAT EVENING JANE STAYED up later than normal, enjoying the card games set up and the company it afforded. She missed Mr. Lawrence, but found she got on well despite his absence.
She retired with Meg, whispering and laughing, avoiding the embarrassing thought that she had kissed three separate men that day, until they parted at her door. Falling asleep quickly, she awoke later as the clock chimed twelve, and finding herself alert, put on a dressing gown to retrieve a book from the library. It was on her way back that she heard voices coming from Miss Pratt’s room.
“...something soon, for....distrac....Shaw...” The use of her name gave her pause. She knew very well eavesdropping was the worst manners and given the occupants of this room, she knew it would be nothing to her credit, and yet her curiosity got the better of her as she slipped closer, her feet quiet, her breathing still.
“But if it rains, I shall get soaked through.”
“Cynthia, you must attend, for that is to our purpose.”
Someone mumbled something and then she heard, “What can he possibly see in her that I do not already have?”
“My dear, calm yourself. I am sure it is a harmless flirtation and that he cannot have any real interest in her. She is a plain little nobody, and I am sure he is merely an excellent host, for she has no one to pay her any attentions. Your idea is just the thing to remind him of his regard for you.”
Jane leaned against the wall. Harmless flirtation? Plain little nobody? Her head filled with bees as she found herself meandering back to her room, her book forgotten.