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JANE WALKED OUTSIDE, her head droopy from her late night. It had seemed easy to agree to a morning ride with Lord Harrington, but her yawns found her wishing he didn’t enjoy rising quite so early.
Her head came up slowly as she heard voices, and as she did so, she realized how wet the air was. She breathed in its heaviness, feeling suffocated by the sight of Cynthia Pratt smiling at Lord Harrington. Again. Her breath whispered out and he turned. Charles, she thought. His name was Charles and he had kissed her in a way that couldn’t possibly mean nothing. He was smiling, his eyes taking her in and her mouth curled up, their thoughts muting Miss Pratt’s chatter.
Somehow she ended up on Cherry, a dark roan that ambled behind, her energy matching the impending weather. For another half hour they rode a lethargic pace until she realized they had turned full circle and had reached the stables. Miss Pratt’s conversation had been swallowed up with birds and wind and hoof beats, so it wasn’t until she dismounted that she realized she had not said a word the entire time. Charles smiled that quiet smile at her again, offering her his arm. She knew he had offered the other arm to Miss Pratt, but somehow she found she had still tuned her out. It was a very quiet pair that escorted Miss Pratt in the house, separating with the fleetest of looks that said nothing and everything.
***
“JANE.” SOMEONE WHISPERED her name and she looked up from her tea to see Meg’s curious face.
“You have not said a word this morning, not even when Mr. Makon made that ridiculous observation about women’s clothing in church, no less, and I do believe your head is in the clouds.”
Jane’s mouth felt like cotton. “I have much on my mind, Meg.”
Meg leaned forward, her whisper growing. “You and everyone else, I think. Have you noticed, Jane? The air is fairly rippling with anticipation. As if one spoken comment and the sea will rush in and consume us all, which I realize is fairly dramatic, but I’ve been reading novels again for I’m sure William never does and I’m determined to get it out of my system before marrying him, although George says if he really loves me then he doesn’t care how many stupid novels I read.”
She sat back and took a bite of sausage as the door opened to present Lord Harrington and Lord Petersham. They both looked at Jane, the former quickly averting his eyes while the latter grinned, then pressed his mouth shut at his brother’s poke. Together they filled their plates and sat next to Lord Wyndham and Mr. Pratt who turned to include them in their quiet conversation.
“Do you see what I mean?” Meg’s eyebrows agreed with her and Jane just sighed and shook her head.
***
MY DEAR JANE,
I am at a loss at what to write to you. So much seems to have happened in the last few days and conversation about the American Captains or your excellent progress with Pleyel seem to fall short.
I could tell you that I agree with your conclusion that to act out of love or compassion is selfless despite Mr. Lawrence’s arguments to the contrary.
I avoid asking what is in your heart, and yet I’m not sure I could tell you what is in my own.
It will all end soon, and while I do not regret this friendship, my regrets are mounting. I fear they will haunt me.
Your friend
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HIS WORDS FOLLOWED her around all day, the smell of them tainting the air. She wished she knew what to write in reply. Her wishes, however, remained unfulfilled as she was unable to ‘accidentally’ find Lord Harrington for practice or a walk. Meg was busy with a thousand different things, and to add insult to injury, each time she entered a room with Mr. Pratt present, he made pains to avoid her.
There was only one conversation of any interest that day.
Miss Stanley ventured to look out the window, her sweet voice declaring, “I daresay it’s been gloomy all day long. I keep thinking the sun will come out, or it will rain, but it does neither.”
Lord Petersham walked over to peer outside as he remarked, “It does seem the weather can’t seem to make up its mind, doesn’t it?” He seemed so cheerful about it, that Jane shook her head.
“It’ll rain tomorrow, mark my words.” Lord Cheswick adjusted his newspaper as Miss Pratt and her mother exchanged a look. All of a sudden, their conversation made sense. Jane stepped forward to say something when Lady Cheswick clacked her teeth, distracting her.
“You should retrieve a shawl, you know. It’s rather chilly, and you’re sure to catch a cold if you do not.”
Jane nodded and moved to retrieve a shawl as directed, but decided to retire early instead. After all, what could she have possibly said to Miss Pratt? Besides that, the Makons were absent, and Lord Harrington had never appeared after dinner. The evening seemed better served with a book in her night clothes.
***
THE NEXT MORNING WAS dark and heavy with the anticipated clouds ready to burst at any moment. Everyone seemed to be sleeping in late or enjoying quiet occupations. Meg and Jane were finishing their work on the children’s costumes, when Simmons appeared.
He stood in the doorway as he looked at the mess on Meg’s bed, and without flinching reported, “Miss Shaw, Lord Harrington has requested you meet him in his study at your convenience.” He bowed and left, and within moments a maid came to help tidy the girls’ mess.
Meg giggled. “What would we do without Simmons? I cannot seem to sew a lion’s costume without turning the house on its head, Jane.”
Jane smiled and stood. “I think if Simmons could handle the three of you during that business with the cats, then this is nothing too untoward.”
Meg nodded and sighed. “I must admit, he does earn his wage. Do hurry back, Jane, for I cannot get the mane right.”
Jane promised, then hurried, her anticipation growing as she made her way downstairs.
“My lord?” Jane stepped through to see Lord Harrington at his desk. He looked up and smiled at her. “Jane. Excuse me, Miss Shaw, it is lovely to see you.” He came forward until they were just barely too close.
“Thank you. Simmons said you wanted to see me?” She cleared her throat.
“Yes.” He reached his hands out for her, but abruptly shoved them behind his back. “Yes.” He went to his desk and retrieved a letter, holding it out to her. “This came for you earlier and I...well, that is, I was going to...at any rate, it saved Simmons a trip.”
Jane took the letter, her face hot. “Thank you.” They stood there for a moment and she turned to leave.
“Jane.”
She held her breath as she turned back.
“I was hoping you would play chess with me.”
“Chess?” Her relief, or was it disappointment? was palpable.
“Yes. I could persuade Cook to prepare a small luncheon while we play?” He cocked his head and she smiled.
“Of course. I should like that.”
“Excellent. I have a few things to take care of. Would one o’clock do?”
“That would be just fine, my lord.”
“Very well.” They stood there a minute more until he carefully turned back towards his desk. She left, her face hot, and waited for interminable hours to pass.
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JULY 9, 1813
Greengate House, Suffolk
Dear Jane,
I was astonished at your confession, but I confess it is now my greatest wish, for I should like very much to see you settled well instead of fulfilling this horrid wish to live in a musty old cottage. I must confess, dear Jane, that despite your obvious qualities, you will be hard-pressed to win over Cynthia Pratt. Rumor has it her mother will stop at nothing to marry her daughter to the Earl of Harrington, and I am sure Miss Pratt is of a similar mind. This is made harder by Lady Harrington’s very public approval of the match. Unless Lord Harrington is very much in love with you, I’m afraid I cannot see how it could happen. Do keep me informed, for I am all pins and needles about it. I have it in mind to come impromptu to Lady Harrington’s house merely to observe your interactions, for your letters are missing much of your commentary I am used to having.
Julia
***
JANE ENTERED THE LIBRARY to see a lovely repast set before her, but this time, no Cynthia Pratt to mock her.
On seeing her, Charles rose. “Hello.”
“Hello. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to do justice to this lovely spread before I am slaughtered by you.” He laughed quietly, and together they filled plates.
“I had hoped to have an opportunity to speak with you, Jane. Miss Shaw. I beg your pardon.”
“I think perhaps given...oh...” Her face was so red, she was sure she matched her ribbons.
“I should like nothing more than to call you Jane.”
She looked up and found he had grasped her hand, now holding it across the table. “My lord, if anyone should...”
“I’m aware. But I must speak with you, and this is the best opportunity.”
“But...” She tugged on her hand, her face tormented.
“I will need to retain your hand, I’m afraid.” He smiled, but it was sadder this time and her heart skipped. Was he going to tell her he was marrying Cynthia after all?
“What is it?”
“I have been a rascal of the worst kind, Jane. I should never have let...I should never have...” His mouth set now, and he looked at her. “A situation of a...permanent nature has arisen, and I find I cannot fulfill the obligations set before me, and that includes any expectations you may now have.”
She blushed and tried unsuccessfully to pull her hand away yet again.
He sighed. “I can only apologize for my indiscretions and hope you can forgive me. You see, shortly I expect – ”
“My lord.” Simmons bowed, his face a mask at the situation before him.
Lord Harrington didn’t move, instead closing his eyes, his thumb brushing over her fingers. He opened them moments later. “Yes Simmons, what is it?”
“Lady Harrington has requested your presence, my lord; she says it is an emergency.”
He looked at Jane, their hands now intertwined, his eyes lost. “And is it?”
Simmons’ mouth twitched. “I have not been made aware of an emergency my lord, but she was most insistent.”
Lord Harrington sighed, then rose, releasing her hand. “Excuse me, Jane. I hope we may continue this conversation later?” He gave a brief smile, which she automatically returned. He bowed, then left the room, followed by Simmons. She sat there for some minutes staring at her full plate of food, her appetite abandoned.
***
LADY HARRINGTON WAS standing in the middle of the drawing room, her lips together, her hands clasped and her forehead in a very odd wavy predicament that Lord Harrington took to be.... concern?
“My Dear Mother, how may I be of service?” Lord Harrington came forward with a half-smile, and as he did so, noticed Lord and Lady Wyndham were present and seated on a couch near the window. They rose, and his smile disappeared.
“It seems dear Cynthia has gone out riding.” She gestured to the window.
“In this weather?”
Lord and Lady Wyndham remained silent, and he became suspicious. He looked about for George then cursed under his breath as he remembered his one ally was playing kissy face at the vicarage today.
“It was not raining when she left, of course.” Lady Harrington continued. “My dear, someone needs to go after her, for it has been upwards of two hours since she left, and she could catch her death out there.”
Lord Harrington, who was not oblivious to his mother’s machinations, turned to look at Lord and Lady Wyndham. “I see. And is that where your son is? Searching for his sister?” He directed the question at them, but another voice answered.
“I told you before, Harry, it’s useless to resist.” Mr. Pratt lowered his newspaper as Lord Harrington turned to see him sitting near the door looking much too comfortable in the chair he was occupying.
“Even so, Pratt, I assume you would be willing to search for your sister?” He raised an eyebrow at him, and Mr. Pratt smirked.
“Oh of course, Harry, I’d be happy to.” But he looked at Lady Harrington as he said this, his grin mocking.
“Oh no, dear, it is only right you should go, of course.” Lady Harrington’s smile was maternal yet made him step back.
“On the contrary. I would assume her father and brother would do everything in their power for her safety. I will of course assist in any way possible. And at the very least, I’m sure a groom accompanied her.” This last was said to Lord Wyndham who nodded as he glanced at his wife.
“My lord...I am not as young as I once was, you know....” He closed his mouth and continued to look at his wife, who supplied his excuse.
“And of course, my lord, you know he’s been feeling a little under the weather. I could not chance his health.” Her simper made him shiver.
Lord Harrington sighed and shook his head. “Of course not. Then it is up to Pratt and I to launch a rescue.”
Lady Wyndham responded quickly. “Oh, well as to that, I am sure he needn’t go if you are already doing so. Really, it is so good of you to help us, for I fear very greatly for Cynthia. It is a wretched storm, is it not?” She gestured to the window where sheets of rain slammed against it.
Lord Harrington acknowledged her words with a bow, muttering under his breath, “Masterfully done, my lady.”
She gave a slight smile in return.
“Do hurry back safely, Charles.” This time his mother’s smile was genuine. He pressed his lips together and exited the room, Mr. Pratt strolling out behind him.
A quarter of an hour later, Lord Harrington was at the stables, where both Mermaid and Captain were saddled and waiting as they danced a little, unnerved by the storm. “Thank you, Johnny. Do you know who went with her?”
“No one sir, she said she didn’t need a groom today. Insisted, in fact, even though Pete told her she was daft. Begging your pardon, sir.” Johnny’s eyes were wide.
He mounted, then looked down. “Saddle Rosie and come along, Johnny.”
“Oh aye, sir.” He came out a few minutes later with Rosie ready.
“My mother mentioned she was headed north?” This was directed at Mr. Pratt.
“Yes. I believe the ruins to be the destination.”
“Then I suppose that is where we’ll find her. I don’t suppose she had any provisions with her?” His sarcasm dripped, but the groom answered anyways.
“Oh aye, sir, a cloak and a lunch she said if it got late.” Lord Harrington pressed his lips together, but Mr. Pratt merely laughed. “We tried to warn her sir, of the weather, but she said it looked, well, right as rain. Which of course it did, didn’t it?”
Lord Harrington clenched his jaw, and without another word, the trio rode off.
***
IT WAS A QUIET COMPANY in the drawing room after dinner, for much of the party spent their time watching out the windows, while the other part looked stoically at the gold and pink papered walls. It was this morose group that finally headed to bed early, each claiming some nonsense excuse.
The clock had just chimed 11 o’clock when a noise was heard downstairs. Jane came out, her dressing gown wound around her in haste with her braid running down her back. Meg stood next to her, and exchanged a worried look as they peered over the banister.
Lady Harrington calmly emerged from the sitting room as though she’d never left it. She looked at Miss Pratt a moment, dripping under a heavy cloak, her hair in wet waves looking like a sea goddess caught on land.
“Please help Miss Pratt up to her room and draw a hot bath for her, and please inform Lady Wyndham her daughter has been found.” The maid nodded and took the arm of Miss Pratt, leading her up the stairs.
At the top, Jane and Meg turned to face her, but instead of seeing a cowering young maid with a dripping nose, they saw the obstinate eyes of the Honorable Miss Cynthia Pratt, whose nose smirked at them both as she said, “Goodnight, Miss Shaw. Lady Margaret.” Astonished, Jane and Meg looked at each other, both at a loss.
Downstairs, Lord Harrington had disappeared into the drawing room with his mother, and Meg sighed. “I’m always the last to find things out. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d go put my ear to that door in a heartbeat. But Jane, mother told me most specifically tonight not to eavesdrop. She said all would be revealed tomorrow morning. As if...as if...”
“As if she already knew what was coming.” Jane’s face was set.
“Exactly. But she can’t have, right?” Meg looked confused, her fingers tapping against the wood.
“I would wager Our Dear Mother will make an announcement tomorrow that will surprise none of us.” George had come up behind them, frowning and looking at Miss Shaw. “And I’m sorry for it.”
She was at a loss for words, but it didn’t matter, for he had turned right around and left.
Grumbling about everyone being mysterious and not trusting her with anything, Meg went to bed again too. Jane stood there for a moment longer, until she heard a new voice.
“There is nothing you could have done, Miss Shaw.” She turned to see Mr. Pratt making his way down the hall, also dripping wet, but with no bath called for him. He eyed her briefly then continued on. “Not one blasted thing.”
***
LORD HARRINGTON STOOD dripping on his mother’s new rug, and he couldn’t help but think the old one had worked just as well and he didn’t like this new one anyhow. He looked at his mother, his eyes blurry from the water running down his face.
“What’s all this about, mother. I need to change, otherwise I’m fairly sure I’m going to be ill. He stumbled, then finally sat.
“Oh Charles, how could you ruin my couch. I will never get that water stain out and –”
Lord Harrington held up a hand. “Had you and Lady Wyndham not manipulated me into retrieving Miss Pratt, both your rug and your couch would have remained untouched, so I will not hear any remonstrations on the matter.”
Lady Harrington pinched her lips. “Charles, you must know this will be seen as an engagement to Cynthia.”
“It is nothing of the kind.” He leaned back into the couch, his head wobbly.
“Of course it is. Hours alone in the dark together; my dear boy you’ve ruined her most thoroughly and it is now required. Now, I know you’ve been rethinking the whole situation, but she really is absolutely perfect as the next countess of...”
“I will do no such thing.” His head had risen now, and despite his white face, his eyes were venomous.
“Charles!”
Fury made him stand, although he found his hand grasping the back of a chair quite forcefully. “I was accompanied by her brother who has a good stone on me at least, and there was a groom. I made sure of that despite your machinations. Also, I refuse to marry Miss Pratt or anyone for that matter, because I have found I will not be....” But he never finished his sentence, for he began to garble his words and fainted, landing on the soft new carpet with such force that Lady Harrington jumped. The door opened and a convenient Simmons stood in the doorway.
“Simmons.” Lady Harrington’s pinched lips did not change despite the worry in her eyes. “Please send for the doctor quickly.”
“Yes, my lady.”