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JANE WOKE, HER EYES groggy, her head muddy. She stood and fumbled until she reached the window, hoping to ascertain the time. Drapes parted, she realized it was still night.
Stars twinkled as she smiled and hurried to put a dress on. She made her way softly downstairs, exiting into the garden where she found a bench to sit on and enjoy the night sky. Her smiles floated up as she recognized so many favorite constellations. Sometime later, she realized the sky was lightening, and as it did she heard her name.
“Miss Shaw.” She turned and noticed Lord Harrington standing close. How long he had stood there, she realized, she did not know.
She hurriedly stood and curtsied, her heart beating faster. “My lord, I am glad to see you are well.”
He looked at the grass, a cane helping support him as it dug mercilessly in the ground. “May we part as friends?” He held out his hand, but his smile wouldn’t appear. “Of course, my lord.” She gave him her hand, which he continued to hold for a moment, then two. She pulled it away along with her eyes. “Thank you for showing me your favorite walks.”
Their eyes met again.
“I enjoyed each one of them.”
She smiled. “And our chess games? Did you enjoy those too?” She smiled wider, trying to tease him, but her it hurt and she looked away again.
“Yes.” It was a gravelly whisper, and when she looked up she noticed he was closer still, his eyes unwavering. “Jane, I....I am sorry.”
“Charles! There you are! Miss Shaw, I must say you are quite the efficient traveler, breakfasted and ready upwards of six o’clock!” Lady Harrington slid forward. “Now Charles, are you sure you should be out of bed after such an illness? Heavens, what would the doctor say?”
Charles gave a halfhearted smile. “I shall retire immediately, mother. Thank you for your concern.” And with a bow, he said goodbye.
A half hour later, Jane stood outside waiting for the carriage to be brought around, enjoying the coolness of a quiet morning alone. It wanted only a few minutes before she and her maid drove off, waving a last goodbye at Meg, but it was some time before the carriage was entirely out of sight. Charles waited until the last, then shuffled to his bedroom.
“Charlie, where have you been?!”
Charles threw the cane to the ground as he plopped on his bed. “I had to say goodbye to her, George. What if it’s the last time I see her?”
“Yes well, it definitely will be the last time if you don’t hurry. It’s half past and we must get it there before breakfast if this is to work.”
“I worked on the letter all last night, if it’s any consolation.” Charles’s forehead was creased with wrinkles that were doomed to remain.
George looked him over. “You did? No wonder you look peaky.”
“Here, what do you think of this?” Charles shoved the letter to George who began reading.
“My Dear Jane. Charlie, is this really how you were addressing her?”
“It was anonymous. And anyway, if I change the address now, Miss Pratt will notice. She’s much more intelligent than we’ve been giving her credit for.”
George shook his head. “I think when this is all done you owe Miss Shaw a letter as well. You have been completely out of hand with this, and it’s only fair.”
Charles’s tired face showed his blush at greater advantage than usual. “Keep your nosy nose out of my business and get back to the problem at hand.”
“Touchy, are we?” George smiled. “Stop worrying. This’ll do the trick.” He turned back to the letter and read:
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MY DEAR JANE,
I hope you will receive this before you leave my home, for I feel I owe you an explanation of both my identity and my actions these past weeks.
This past April I found out that I am dying of a cancerous growth. The time allotted me is very little – perhaps a year. As a result, I immediately left London in an effort to remove any ties from any but my closest family. Despite my growing attachment to you, I felt I could not propose marriage. In the event of my death, the estate would immediately revert to Lord Petersham, and it is most likely you would be at the mercy of my family (or yours) for your comforts.
Forgive me for not being more open with you, but know your friendship has meant much in these final days.
Charles, Earl of Harrington
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“POSSIBLY TOO HONEST. And perhaps a bit too dramatic for you.”
“What should I remove?”
George grinned, “Oh, nothing. I think it’ll do the trick.”
“Excellent. Then off you go. Don’t forget to –”
George waved his protests away. “I know what I’m about, Charlie. Remember how I did this last time.”
Charlie shooed him out the door. “Yes, yes, your prowess as an actor is unsurpassed.”
But George just grinned at him and shut the door.
***
MISS PRATT HAD JUST finished a most unsatisfying breakfast where No One had been there to appreciate her efforts on her toilette and Every One had been politely distant. Her stomach empty but for a sip of tea, she made her way down the hall just as Lord Petersham exited the library.
“Good morning, Miss Pratt.” George smiled. “And how was your breakfast?”
“Oh, it was delightful, thank you. How is Charles doing?” She made bold with his name and smiled to prevent admonition.
“Quite well, quite well. Concerned I think, about some unfinished business, but...” And here he looked back into the library and down at the floor. “Well, that is...” He finished stuttering and looked back at Miss Pratt. “I say, are you off to bid Miss Shaw adieu?”
“Ah....of course. Are you aware of what time she plans to depart?”
“I believe it was to be before noon, but you know I always seem the last to know, what?” And with a bow and a cocky grin, he moved past her to attack his own breakfast.
Miss Pratt stood there for a moment piecing together George’s comment. She hadn’t been fast enough to question him further, but her instinct told her there was more. She puzzled over that for a moment while she contemplated his nervousness. With a thoughtful expression, she opened the door and peered in. Surely Lord Petersham didn’t know of the box too? She frowned. No one was there, of course, but still she wondered...perhaps there was just one more...she found herself near the fireplace and the curious green box. Now a habit, she opened it and found a letter addressed to Jane. Smiling, she took it out, broke the seal and began to read.
***
CHARLES WAS SITTING at a small desk in his room when George entered and threw a letter on top of his correspondence.
“There was a note, Charlie.”
Charles picked it up and smiled. “Thank you for retrieving it. I had not thought she’d write again.”
George rolled his eyes. “You are an idiot.”
Charles responded without looking up. “No more so than you.” But George had left and Charles halted his correspondence to unfold it, sit back and read.
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DEAREST FRIEND,
Before I leave, I must once more tell you how much your friendship has meant to me. I’m not even sure you will receive this letter since you have ended our relationship such as it was, but I had to try so that I might thank you for your kindness. The gift of Pleyel’s sonatina I will cherish and I vow to learn it and play it in a public setting should I have the opportunity, cost what it may to their rug.
I will soon make for a friend’s home in the Lake District and then I have a decision to make. It is a fork in the road that will take much contemplation and I already wish for your advice. I know almost nothing of you, but am assured that a man of your kindness will do very well. Bless and keep you.
Your friend,
Jane
***
“MOTHER, IF YOU WOULD please sit down.”
Lady Harrington looked imperiously at her oldest, then sat. “Charles, I do hope this is not a ridiculous attempt to end your engagement to Cynthia. I can tell you –”
“It has nothing to do with Miss Pratt. Although that may be discussed later.” Lady Harrington looked again at Charles, whose face was worn and pale from being sick, and kept quiet. George was silent as he sat back in a chair and observed while Lady Margaret looked to each of them for a hint of what was to come.
“Last March I found....that is, I found myself in quite a lot of pain.” He paused. “In my back.” Three sets of eyes stayed silent waiting for more.
“I visited a doctor in London. Based on his findings, he referred me to Dr. Johnson.”
Lady Harrington spoke. “But why? You are in the best of health, surely a different doctor would...”
“Please let me finish, mother. Dr. Johnson tells me I have a tumor and estimates I have a year, perhaps two to live.” Lady Harrington gasped.
George stood and put his hands in his pockets, looking out the window, and Margaret continued to look between them.
“There must be some mistake. Surely you got a second opinion and really Charles, you...”
“Mother, the tumor is still there as is the pain, although it does come and go. Dr. Johnson is foremost in his field.” He added softly. “Surely you noticed my use of a cane? The frequency with which I retired early?”
There was a pause, a hesitation, as each absorbed this information.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Margaret was angry, her face fractured.
“I’m sorry, Meg, I didn’t feel I could with the house party and so many guests.”
“But Charles, this changes everything. If George is to inherit...”
“Exactly. I have a brother who will make an excellent earl in my absence. The estate is thriving, and the improvements I have planned will ensure the continuity of a financial return. I intend to review all this with George, of course, although I confess I had hoped to wait a few more months before doing so. As for Miss Pratt, I cannot marry given my current situation.”
“But my dear –”
“Mother, she would either be delighted that I am to kick the bucket, so to speak and leave her a wealthy widow, or she would be horrified and wish I had said something sooner so she could marry someone else whose longevity is more assured.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am. Very much so. Now you see why I became so very adamant about not marrying Miss Pratt.”
George snorted.
Lady Harrington’s head turned. “What?”
“Oh come on, mother, you can’t have been blind to his regard for Miss Shaw.”
“Miss Shaw?” Lady Harrington was standing now. “You cannot possibly believe her a match for you regardless of your health and I will NOT allow you to throw Miss Pratt over for that plain queer girl.”
“Mother, I would ask you not to speak of her that way. Although, I can assure you my plans not to marry include everyone, regardless of the friendships I may have built.”
George shook his head.
“But your responsibility to the estate –”
“Is covered. George is more than capable, and after he starts his family, his children will inherit. Margaret, we have decided to pass on a few parcels of land to your children so as to divide the responsibilities more equally.”
“Charles.”
“I know, mother, but I cannot...mother, are you...?” Lady Harrington was crying now, her shoulders shaking in grief. He moved to hug her, his arms around her as he knelt on the floor. For some time, the burden was passed from shoulder to shoulder as tears fell and hearts broke. When the last handkerchief had been crumpled into a wet ball, they sat as a group in an awkward arrangement of chairs.
“I ask each of you to please keep this a secret for now. Meg, that means you too.”
“But I –”
“You’ve never been very good at keeping things to yourself, but please give me this privacy for some time.”
“And what should we do?” His mother looked at him, her face covered in a curtain of tears.
“Continue to live.” He smiled at her until she finally gave a weak smile in return. “I am living the best I know how. We will enjoy these last months together as best we can.” He paused, bracing himself for the hope he was about to give them. “Dr. Harris is going to write Dr. Johnson to consult with him about my...that is he, they...” He looked to George, his words lost.
“They’re going to see if it is the kind of growth that can be removed.”
Lady Harrington looked up. “You could still live?”
Charles took a breath and laid out the facts. “There is a chance, but I do not mean to give you false hope. Dr. Johnson was very sure, and even if it should prove otherwise, the surgery is not always successful, not to mention the high risk of infection.”
There was a silence built from grief. It was George who spoke next, his usually happy voice serious and quiet.
“When are you going to tell her?”
“I hadn’t decided. Perhaps a note for...after.”
“What? Charlie, you can’t do that to her. She needs to know. At the very least she needs to understand why...” But Meg started crying again and couldn’t finish.
“Who? What is this?” Lady Harrington looked to each for understanding.
“Miss Shaw.”
“But...” But Lady Harrington no longer had the strength to argue about inappropriate marriage matches.
“If I were whole and well, I would have already proposed. In fact, it would have forestalled this engagement to Miss Pratt.” He sighed, his hands running through his hair.
George rubbed the back of his neck, as Margaret frowned.
“I did not realize it had got that far. I do not know whether to be grateful or horrified it never happened, for I would give up much to keep you here, Charles.” His mother’s face was white now, and set. She looked a good deal older as she rose out of her chair and put her hand on his arm to say, “I’m proud of the man you became, Charles. Never doubt that. As to the rest...we shall take it one day at a time.” And with a sigh, she turned and left to wrap up her grief while she attended to her remaining guests.
***
THAT AFTERNOON, SIR Reginald left with a Look for Miss Pratt and a ‘tally ho!’ to his hosts as he galloped away.
With no one to entertain but his increasingly annoying fiancé, Lord Harrington hid in his study. It was there George found him as he leaned against the door frame. “I’ve had a thought, Charlie.”
“Oh yes? And what is that?” Lord Harrington didn’t bother to look up from his papers.
“You should tell Miss Shaw. In person would be best.”
Lord Harrington looked up. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Lord Petersham shrugged. “It is rare enough that someone in your position finds something like love. The least you could do would be to acknowledge it.”
Lord Harrington frowned as he looked at a square of paper, sealed with his crest. He sighed then looked up and held it out to George.
“What is this?” George took it, confused.
“A letter I have already written to Jane. I ask that you please see it delivered on my death.”
“Charlie, don’t...stop talking like that. You know there is a chance it could be alright, and shouldn’t you wait to see – “
“George, please. I need to know that if the worst happens, she will know. And I have not the heart to tell her in person.”
“You don’t think perhaps a letter now might...?”
“No, I do not know how this will all end, and I will feel better knowing she knew how I felt after I succumb to this stupid illness. If by some miracle it ends well, she need never know.”
“You can’t be serious. I thought you more optimistic than that. At the very least, we know Miss Pratt took the letter.”
Lord Harrington moved aside a pile of papers, unorganizing as he spoke. “I have it under good authority that Mr. Lawrence will be proposing soon, and knowing Jane as I do, I am sure she will accept him.” He held up his hand. “Leave it, George. Let me handle one problem at a time.”