The next morning, Jane’s guests would assume she had spent the night with her husband. Nobody else need know she had slept in the dressing room, nor whom she had slept with in there.
Mama brought more poultices and concoctions de Bath and applied them liberally over her husband’s neck and chest. The smell made Jane’s eyes water, but it covered the other strong aromas building in the Baron’s rooms. Smelling salts did most of the heavy lifting, but goodness, it was a close-run thing of which scent was worse. If Lady Jardine came to visit, she would definitely know something was wrong. Hideously, horrendously wrong.
“Mister Foote, might you take the Baron for a perambulation in his wheeled chair this morning.” Jane asked.
Rain pelted against the windows.
“In this weather, My Lady?”
“Is he likely to dissolve in it?”
“I cannot be sure.”
“The rotunda then. See to it he’s out there, gazing towards the lake.”
It was time to open the curtains and let in the fresh breezes, which truly were blessedly fresh, if a little wet. Once Mister Foote had removed the concoction-slathered Baron from the rooms, Jane built up the fire and began burning the bed sheets. The lavender oil Mama had doused the sheets in helped the flames to a generous size.
Mama and Jane then held a blanket firmly across the face of the fireplace; the gap at the bottom caused the fire to suck heavily, taking the smoke, burnt sheets and smells directly up the chimney.
* * *
With no way of knowing how long their guests would be staying, Jane headed to the kitchen gardens to check on food supplies. She found Lord Jardine already there, walking amongst the beds.
“Good morning, My Lord,” Jane said as she held her umbrella at a slight angle to keep as much of herself dry against the diagonal rain. He too had an umbrella, but was becoming damp. “I trust you slept well?” Jane asked on approach.
“Good morning. I thought I’d compare kitchen gardens,” Lord Jardine said. “See what hybrids are doing well this season.”
“Excellent idea. You must ask the Baron what is doing well, this is all rather new to me.”
“He’s got a nasty cough,” Jardine said.
“Oh?”
“Yes, last night he could barely sip his drink.”
“Oh, the poor man.” Jane said, playing along. “He seemed fine later in the evening.”
“The footman said it was the hundred-day cough. Best keep him far from the children.”
Jane fought a smile, because that would give it all away, but this was the most perfect answer she could have received. Lord Jardine had bought their little play, and now wanted to keep his distance. Wonderful!
Thankfully, there were items here that could remind her of miserable things, so that she didn’t betray her happiness. The crops, for example, were doing very poorly.
“When do you think summer might arrive?” She asked, turning her umbrella against the wind.
Jardine huffed. “We’ll most likely move directly into winter. Your parsnip tops are looking weak and miserable. Your pumpkins have no flowers on the vines, nor the courgettes.”
Even without the threat of Jardine’s family booting them out, the lack of food growing in the gardens would see them all starve.
“Have you examined the orangery?” He asked.
“I have not had the time, but I shall soon.”
“It’s looking miserly. The lemons are not producing much either.”
Oh dear, that did not sound good. “But oranges are protected from cold weather, why would they be failing?”
Jardine shook his head. “No bees.”
Jane stopped. Oh dear! Looking around the garden beds, there was no sign of the flying insects. Well, they often didn’t fly about in the rain, that was predictable… but if it rained so much, they wouldn’t be out and about doing their busy work.
“I have yet to ask the gardener,” Jane said, just as the man himself approached. “Here he comes now. Mister Gardener, just the man Lord Jardine wishes to speak with. Lord Jardine, this is Mister Gardener.”
The head gardener doffed his hat and muttered a quick, “My Lord” to Jardine, then Jardine peppered him with questions about hybrids and cross pollinating.
Oh, what an interesting topic. Jane remained, silently, listening to their conversation. She needed to know this just as much as Lord Jardine, if she were to gain Mister Gardener’s trust. He didn’t even know she was his new mistress, she must remedy that post haste.
“Hybrids and cross pollination,” Mister Gardener said. “This apple is a good one, but we have no fruit forming on it at all. Got hardly any flowers this year, so that’s no surprise. Naught to do but hope for a better season next year. The apricots did manage some fruit, and we got those into the kitchen where Cook set about preserving them.”
Apricots? Delicious! She’d ask Cook about the jams next time she was in the kitchen.
“Been an honour talking with ye, Lord Jardine, Lady Jardine.” Mister Gardiner said as he was about to take his leave and get back to work.
“Oh, goodness, I’m not Lady Jardine, I’m Lady Ealing,” Jane corrected.
“Oh, My Lady, forgive me! It’s been ever so long since the daughters came to visit. I thought you was married to his Lordship here.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Mister Gardiner. It was remiss of me not to introduce myself to all staff in the estate the moment I arrived. It’s merely that the Baron and I have only recently wed, and we have, uh, otherwise been occupied.”
Mister Gardiner pinked at the cheeks and said, “Please forgive an old man his poor eyes. I’d best get to the chickens.”
“Of course,” Jane said.
He turned and left.
Interesting. Jane yearned to know exactly how long it had been since Epiphany had visited her father. Earlier in their visit, Lady Jardine pronounced her father had always greeted her with a kiss. As if they met often. But this fresh information from the head gardener implied it had been a long time since Epiphany had been anywhere near Ealing Estate.
“Please don’t feel the need to remain out here on my account,” Jane said.
The man took the hint and headed towards the estate.
Jane made her way over to Mister Gardiner’s potting shed, where she found him at his sheltered table, sorting various seeds into piles. Despite the watery light filtering through the open door, the man wasn’t even squinting in the endeavour. Nothing wrong with his eyesight at all! How could he have mistaken her for Jardine’s wife?
“Excuse me, Mister Gardiner.” Jane said.
The man stopped what he was doing and doffed his hat, “Yes, My Lady, and please, allow me to apologise again for my offence.”
“I appreciated the candour,” Jane said, delivering a beaming smile. “Lord Jardine is not outside, so we will not be overheard. As the new Baroness, it behooves me to take an interest in the estate, on behalf of the Baron. This is as good a time as any to acquaint myself with the kitchen gardens and the larger estate itself.”
“Of course, My Lady,” Mister Gardiner bowed his head. “Where would you like to begin?”
Jane smiled, “As far from prying eyes and ears as possible. Shall we walk to the growing fields to see which crops are preforming best in these terrible conditions?”
Mister Gardiner delivered her a smile. “After you, My Lady.”
Good. “The broad beans. They are delicious, where do they grow?”
Mister Gardiner gifted her with a smile so wide his eyes vanished in the creases. “They are my pride and joy. Now that I know you like them, I shall plant more.”
“That would be wonderful. But alas, at the evening meal this past night, the Jardines played a jest on me and took all the beans for their plates. Then they pushed them around and didn’t eat them.”
Mister Gardiner shook his head, “Apologies for speaking out of turn, My Lady, but that is a terrible waste, especially this year when the crops are not producing as they should.”
This was going superbly. Not the lack of crops, which were an unmitigated disaster, but the comfortable way Mister Gardiner delivered such valuable information without apparently realising quite how valuable his information was.
“Mister Gardiner, how long has it been since any of the Baron’s adult daughters visited Ealing House?”
“It’s been many a year, my Lady. And to be honest, we had no notice they would be arriving. We’ve pulled up the carrots far too early, and now we’re hunting for potatoes just to keep feeding them. It was a relief to know the Baron would marry again, as we were all in a state of disarray, not knowing what lay in our futures. Ah, here’s my good wife. Bethany, come and meet our new Baroness.”
Bethany wiped her hands on her apron and bobbed a curtsey. “Pleasure to meet the new mistress, my Lady. Is the produce to your liking?”
“Very much so, the broad beans especially.” Jane confirmed.
Mrs Gardiner delivered a beaming smile at that news. It seemed to be the key to opening doors and hearts, as Mrs Gardiner invited Jane to have a cup of tea in their cottage.
“Don’t you fill our mistress’s head with gossip, Beth, she has more important things to do.”
“Be awff with ya,” Bethany said.
Jane could scarcely believe her luck. Gossip? Yes please!
“If ye don’t mind, My Lady, the rain has stopped and I must check on the marrows, if ye don’t mind following me around?”
Goodness, the rain had stopped. It wouldn’t be right to keep them from their work, when food was so scarce this year.
“It’s just that they’re not likely to fertilise themselves.”
“A bit like humans,” Jane said, before reining herself in. “Goodness, I misspoke!”
Mrs Gardener gave Jane a knowing wink, “Good thing we don’t need bees to help us with that, or we’d be in trouble!”
Giggling, Jane followed Bethany to the garden beds, where strong vines grew over climbing frames.
“Now ma’am, as you don’t have long sleeves on, I recommend keeping your distance, as these things are covered in invisible prickles.”
Much like the Jardines, Jane silently mused.
Bethany took some of the flowers and picked them off, then peeled the petal completely away, exposing the pollen-covered stamen. Then she took that stamen and tickled it against an open flower with a tiny marrow behind it.
“Any other year, we certainly could leave this task off the roster, but have you seen a bee lately in these parts?”
“Now that you mention it … I have not.”
“Time was you couldn’t let the hounds run on the clover lawn, they’d get stung so many times they’d keep us up all night with their howling. My Barker once got himself bit right on the tongue when he tried to eat one, and didn’t we all know about that!” Bethany said.
“Is the lack of bees the reason there is so little fruit this year?” Jane asked.
“Aye, it is.” Bethany fertilised another baby marrow and moved on to the squash cage, where she repeated the process. “Not that this works so much at any rate, but waiting for the bees means we’ll get nothing at all. I can make the male and female flowers come together, but making sure something grows is beyond my powers.”
Cold dread moved through Jane. She and Mister Foote had been making many attempts themselves. The thought that it might not work hadn’t entered her mind. In which case, she and Mister Foote should try again, just to be sure.
They moved on to a bed of greens featuring chard, French beans and her beloved broad beans. Which reminded Jane, “The broad beans are delicious, I appreciate all your efforts.”
“Thank you, my Lady. They are least don’t need bees, and for that we count our blessings. But if the bees don’t come back soon, we’ll soon be sick of the taste of beans.”
The sight of Mrs Gardener fertilising the flowers made Jane blush at memories of her moments with Mister Foote. And her appallingly naïve notion of what it really would take to … well, become fertile herself. Her body flushed at the thought of another session in the dressing room. The thought quickened her blood even as a fresh gust of cold rain hit the garden beds.
“Ah well, at least we haven’t needed to cart water this year,” Bethany said as she dabbed another dusty stamen over one more flower head.
Jane noticed some of the squash were already growing, as they were double the size of any others nearby. “Those look like they’re growing well. You clearly have the touch.”
“Hopefully most of them will, but they’re good at fooling you. They make a start, and then they stop. Along with the bees, we’ve had a distinct lack of sun this year.”
“Oh dear, that really isn’t very good.”
As they walked on, something fluttered in the breeze.
Ribbons.
The kind of ribbons which Lady Jardine had tied around items inside the estate were now visible on branches of each citrus tree in the orangery.
“Oh goodness, she’s been out here too.” Bethany placed her hand over her mouth. “So sorry, my Lady, I speak out of turn.”
Jane shot around to make sure Lady Jardine was not standing directly behind them.
Devil take her, there she was.
“These belong to the next Baron Ealing, as is his birthright.” Lady Jardine said, none too pleased at being mocked. “I claim only what belongs to him. Would you deny my husband and son their inheritance?”
A tuft of orange hair peeked out from the babe’s soft bonnet. His skin was so pale, with a hint of buttercups. One might almost call it translucent.
“My Lady Jardine,” Jane bobbed a curtsey.
Beside her, Bethany dropped into an even deeper mark of respect.
“You should be tending to my father,” Lady Jardine barked.
“Indeed, I am tending to my husband,” Jane confirmed. “I came here hoping for some lemons. The Baron requested them for his cup of tea.”
“I need Oranges, for the babe,” Lady Jardine said. “Fetch them for me, Mrs Gardiner.”
“Right away, My Lady.”
Bethany vanished towards some trees. She soon reappeared with a single citrus in her hand. “It’s the closest to ripe that we have. What with the terrible weather.”
“I’m sure it will improve with a little honey,” Lady Jardine said, taking the fruit.
Bethany tickled the infant on the cheek and cooed. “Ain’t they all so precious? Now, let’s turn your bonnet up and get you some sun, so you can grow up nice and strong.”
Something melted within Jane at the sight of the lovely child and the woman making a fuss over him.
Perhaps she and Mister Foote’s efforts would bear fruit?
Lady Jardine suddenly pulled away. “How dare you touch the Viscount’s son!”
Alas, Mrs Gardener’s finger had caught in the bonnet’s ribbons and it came off in her hand.
The babe wailed.
His orange hair was brighter than the citrus of the same name.
“Forgive me, my Lady, I’m ever so sorry.” Bethany pleaded, handing back the bonnet.
Lady Jardine took the scrap of material, turned away and stormed off in high dudgeon.
Bethany angled herself around to see Jane, a wicked grin on her face. “All that red hair, no wonder she hides it under a bonnet!”
Jane’s heartbeat raced, but she kept her voice as low and innocent as possible. “It is rather a shock, is it not? But I should be so lucky to be so blessed, when my time comes. I will not care a jot if the babe’s hair is bright green.”
“No chance of anything but pitch black from the Baron.” Bethany said, “That red must have been lurking on Lord Jardine’s side.”
Jane wondered out loud. “His nurse has the exact same colouring. I wonder if there’s a family connection there?”
“Oh, my Lady, you are an innocent one, aren’t you?” Bethany said, hiding a giggle behind her hand.
Jane had to school her features to not let her suspicions show. Far better to play the innocent; now Bethany would gossip to all and sundry how the Baroness knew nothing of family traits and bloodlines. But the gossip would get out there. Yes, that would suit her aims most pleasingly.
Bethany stopped giggling and pointedly asked, “You are not still innocent are you, the Baron has got an heir on you already, has he not?”
Oh yes, this was playing out most perfectly. “Goodness, that is most impertinent.”
Bethany took a step back. “I must apologize, my mouth runs away from me all the time.”
“No offence taken,” Jane assured her. “In fact, I do hope for some good news soon.”
“He’s not overdoing it? He could be so phlegmatic with the Third Baroness. Nearly ate us out of house and home trying for the boy, fourth time around, would only eat and drink white food. Chicken breast only, potatoes of course, the palest ale, porridge with sugar and not honey, and the wheat had to be milled to fine powder before he’d eat the bread.”
Excellent information. Jane tucked it away. “I believe he’s moved to greens, in my case,” Jane said, lowering her eyes and hoping a blush might rise to her cheeks to add to the authenticity. “He rather seems to enjoy broad beans now, as do I.”
Bethany beamed with pleasure at this choice. “Then we shall spare none for the Jardines and make sure cook hands them all to his lordship’s footman.”
With that bit of gossip done, and having learned much more than she expected to, Jane bid farewell and walked back to the mansion.
She found the butler in the cellar, counting the remaining bottles of wine. The stern man scared her a little, but she was the Baroness now, she did not need his approval or permission. He worked for her, and as much as he might carry some affection for the previous Baroness’s children, he needed to adapt to the new situation. And quickly.
“Stone, please tell Cook to set aside all the broad beans for the Baron.”
Stone nodded and said, “Yes, my Lady, right away.”
Goodness, that was rather fast. She’d expected him to complain or offer up some kind of comment. It didn’t feel right for things to be this easy. Intrigued, she kept her distance and followed the butler towards the kitchens. If he queried her, she would ask him to give her a tour of the estate to make sure she was familiar with all the rooms and the grounds. This was something the new Baroness should know about her husband’s affairs and abodes. She had only just met two of the gardeners. There could be a whole village of people living in cottages on the estate for all she knew.
Stone did not hesitate and walked directly to the kitchen. Jane hid behind a door and listened intently.
“The new Baroness wants all the broad beans for his Lordship. Make sure the footman takes them to him for his meals.”
“Broad beans?” Jane could hear the question in Cook’s tone. “He’s never liked them before.”
“And he did not care much for oatmeal, but if I recall it didn’t stop him gorging on the stuff when he was trying for a boy with the last one.”
“Broad beans. Fair enough. At least it’s achievable. Good thing he’s not calling for apples, they’re scarce as hen’s teeth and he loves them.”
Jane sucked in her breath at this news. The Baron loves apricots. The staff were speaking about the Baron as if he were still living. It meant her subterfuge, as terrible a sin as it was, was working. She slipped out of her hiding spot and made it to the hall and waited for the butler to walk by again.
It was far too early to bring anyone else into the conspiracy at this point. But if she and Mama and Mister Foote were going to carry this off, they needed to know they had the rest of the staff on their side.
“I should like to travel into town,” she said as the butler approached. “There are many crops that have failed here on the estate, and if I visit town, there may be some way to secure items that are growing in other areas.”
“I am hearing that it’s a bad growing season all around. Strawberries are few and far between, and I haven’t seen a cherry at all,” Stone confirmed.
“That is so disappointing. I am fond of strawberries and raspberries.”
“Will his Lordship be joining you?”
“He needs his rest, he appears particularly worn out today.”
“I saw the footman taking him for a push in the chair. I don’t know that the fresh air is doing him any good.”
“He rallies of an evening,” Jane said.
At this, Stone blushed a deep claret and muttered, “I shall fetch a footman to accompany you.”
Perfect.
It would have been even better had the footman been her Mister Foote, but he needed to guard the Baron. All things considered, it was for the best that another member of staff accompany her to the village.