A Secret Passion (8 page)

So Jane had given up her dreams of marrying Harry. She had felt too much gratitude toward Cutty to even mention her desire and too much fear for her family to discuss it with her father. Cutty had in return promised to protect her, love her, and care for her in all ways save the marriage bed. He apologized to her for not being able to give her a child, but told her that at least he would never hurt her or force her to do her duty, as so many women deplored. And she in turn, free from the recent unhappiness in her familial home, blossomed. It was a pleasant, idyllic time, and only occasionally, very occasionally, did she feel something was missing. It was then that she would wonder about Harry, her first true childhood friend and love. Her intense loyalty to Cutty, however, forced many daydreams to be cut short.

She wondered if Harry was back in Cornwall after all the years at university. His sister, Fanny, had written to her that he was expected. And had he had the chance to brave the wilds of foreign soil in quest of elusive winged species? Mostly, she wondered if she still held a special place in his heart. He was the only man with whom she felt she could trust her secret if they ever married. For no one knew she was still a virgin. It was a fact that embarrassed her and could cause additional problems if ever revealed. For Cutty had explained that ancient marriage laws could render their marriage void, since it was never consummated. Because of this, he had arranged an independence for her upon his death.

What Cutty had forgotten was Jane’s love of her family’s stables in Cornwall, a fact her father had used to his advantage. On darker days, she worried that Cutty’s heir by his first marriage, his son, Richard, might try to retrieve the money if it was learned that her marriage was never consummated.

Her greatest wish was to go to Cornwall, find Harry, and wed him. Material wealth was nothing to her. Her years with Cutty had proved beyond any doubt that wealth did not constitute joy. In fact, happiness died a quiet, slow death when the soul was not nurtured by a great love, or at least some hope for romantic love.

But if Harry wed her, what would become of Clarissa? By Jane’s refusal to marry Billingsley, her family now faced financial ruin. Jane worried that her aunt’s quarterly allowance might end. She could not bear the idea of Clarissa working for her living. And it was doubtful that Harry could be persuaded to include Clarissa in their wedded bliss, for Clarissa and Harry had always agreed to disagree on every topic. And so the arguments and answers swirled in her mind and terminated in another wracking headache.

“Jane, dear, you must stop writing and prepare for tea at Hesperides,” Clarissa called from the hall.

Jane obeyed her aunt by arranging the stack of writing papers, wiping her quill, and closing the drawers of the small escritoire. She looked at her ink-stained hands and sighed.

Clarissa bustled into the guest chamber holding up the pressed black silk gown. A quarter of an hour later found Jane dressed and unsmiling as her aunt brushed her hair and swept it back into a knot high above her neck. Jane took her aunt’s place and smoothed back Clarissa’s brown tresses tinged with gray.

“A fine pair of guests we will be. Without conversation, and schooling our features, if my guess is correct,” Jane said.

“But I do like the grandmother. She seemed taken with you at the picnic,” said Clarissa as she hid her long hair in the confines of a lace cap. Jane picked a piece of lint from the dull brown-colored gown Clarissa almost always wore.

“When one’s only competition is Mrs. Gurcher for friendship, I am not sure it is a fair game,” retorted Jane.

“Yes, well, I have never been invited to tea at Hesperides until now. I am sure you are the reason,” Clarissa said as she moved through the passageway toward the door of the cottage.

Jane changed the conversation as she adjusted the tilt of her black silk bonnet. “It is only a tea. They cannot hold us longer than the appointed hour.”

Thomas was at war within his own mind. Propriety and good sense told him he must attend his host’s modest entertainment of tea this afternoon. Anger and pride insisted that he be anywhere but in the conservatory overlooking the tiered gardens of Hesperides at four o’clock. The meager hunting party consisting of the earl, the gamekeeper, and himself had proved unfruitful. And he was not in a mood to attempt to lighten the earl’s typical brooding frame of mind. He gave thanks for the hundredth time that hunting was a silent venture by necessity.

As they walked up to the large oak doors of the Hall, Thomas reviewed all his proposed excuses for not attending the ladies at tea. A glance at the earl’s harsh, squinting profile above the deep gray collar of his long hunting coat resolved him to his purpose. As he opened his mouth to make his excuses, Graystock interrupted him.

“You’re not considering retreat, are you?” The earl accepted the bows of the footmen and continued, “You are my friend and guest. And as such, you must endeavor to entertain me.”

“That’s what the chits will do, Graystock.”

The earl preceded Thomas into the conservatory and added under his breath, “Ah. But you will outdo them if recent history is any indication.” The ladies all rose upon the gentlemen’s entrance, save the dowager countess. The earl moved to his grandmother, whose large frame was ensconced in a deceptively delicate love seat. He raised her hand to his lips. Rolfe bowed to the other two ladies as Thomas moved forward to pay his respects to at least two of the ladies.

The party of five somehow managed to offer a contorted view of refined society for the first half of the visit. The usual topics of weather and the small upcoming and past country entertainments were discussed at length, with nary a blush or a frown. If one looked closely, thought Thomas, one might have noticed he and Miss Fairchild did not direct questions to one another. Graystock did not follow suit with Mrs. Lovering. It was clear the earl enjoyed provoking her in a very mild way.

Lady Graystock sighed loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Whatever is it, Grandmamma?” asked the earl.

“I daresay I have overexerted myself today. I think I must be escorted to my chamber. But I would dearly like to continue the pleasure of our guests’ company.” She paused to look at Jane. “My dear, would you be so kind as to do me the honor of reading to me again? Your voice is exquisite, and I long to hear the next chapter of the novel we started during our last outing.” The dowager countess lowered her eyes in a pitiful expression.

Graystock appeared exasperated. “Really, Grandmamma, you cannot impose upon Mrs. Lovering again.”

The lady insisted, “No, it is not an inconvenience. I should be delighted above all things to give you this small pleasure. And I, too, delight in the works of Burney.” She rose to her feet and set her cup and saucer on the tea tray.

The earl looked at Thomas and indicated to him with a nod toward Clarissa that decorum necessitated someone escorting her to her cottage. Thomas ignored the suggestion and turned to offer his arm to the dowager countess.

“Miss Fairchild, please allow me to escort you to your door,” offered the earl.

“Oh, goodness, my lord, no, thank you. It is entirely unnecessary,” responded Clarissa with a slight blush. As she placed her hand on the earl’s sleeve to be led to the main hallway, Thomas watched her but refused to bid her good day.

The dowager countess’ old, faded eyes fluttered open as Jane closed the volume.

“That was lovely, my dear. Thank you so much for reading to me. Your voice is excellent, and you read with such animation.”

“You are too kind,” Jane responded.

“It has been many years—too many years—since I have had female company in residence with me.” With a sigh, she continued, “But it is a fate I am resigned to.”

Jane wondered if the dowager countess was trying to draw her into a conversation or if she should refrain from making a comment. After an uncomfortable silence of a few moments, Jane asked, “But the young countess provided you with companionship for at least a short while during the last decade, did she not?”

“Good heavens, no, my dear. She was a mere child, all giggles and bounces, and altogether afraid of me. Her greatest pleasure was evening soirees and balls before she married.”

“But who can blame her? I assure you I was the same at her age,” Jane said with a smile.

“Yes, well, she was very young,” she agreed. Then the dowager countess looked out toward the darkening light of the window. Jane thought she heard the older woman mutter, “But she was never capable of bringing happiness to Hesperides.” Then louder, “But I shall not speak ill of the dead, as I must face Mr. Gurcher on Sunday. Surely God will punish me by forcing me to endure tea with Mrs. Gurcher again.” With a twinkle in her eye, she looked at Jane. “But then, you will save me by proposing a walk to your aunt’s cottage to admire the garden, will you not?”

Jane smiled. “If it would please you. We would be delighted by a visit.”

“Yes, and it will infuriate Mrs. Gurcher,” noted the dowager countess without any remorse. “Help me arrange these pillows, my dear, will you? I will take my afternoon lie-down now, I think.”

Jane hastened to her side and helped the elderly lady retire before moving to the adjacent sitting room. She walked to the window before departing. A light spring rain tapped against the windowpane as she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool glass.

She still did not know what to make of the conversation. It seemed to be in conflict with what her aunt had intimated about the earl’s marriage. Jane wondered why the young countess had not brought happiness to the Hall while she was alive, but then decided it was likely the grandmother had not known the true feelings between the young couple. She shook her head. Jane had enough worries of her own to sort out. The trials of the earldom were not her affair.

She closed the outer door to the dowager countess’ sitting room and bedchamber. With the approaching dusk, long shadows filled the carpeted hallway. Leaning against the paneled wall opposite her, a tall, broad-backed figure stood with crossed ankles. His silver eyes stared at her from a brooding face before he said something incomprehensible to her. With two long strides, he was in front of her. He grasped her shoulders in a firm if not painful grip. Jane, in her embarrassment, felt rooted to the spot and was unable to think of anything to say.

And then he said it again—”Come with me,” in a commanding, harsh whisper. He led her farther down the hall into a sitting room and adjoining chamber, then closed the door. She noticed the beautiful blue toile curtains and tapestries lining the windows and walls of the spacious room. Beyond a short corridor, she could see a massive carved wooden bed with the same toile curtains. With shock, she realized she was in an inappropriate position. A position she had avoided her entire life.

The earl fingered the soft silk of her sleeves. His large, warm hands slowly slid down her arms. Jane felt the callused palms and inched away. “Are you afraid?” he asked.

She tilted up her chin and lied. “No. Should I be?”

“I would reconsider your answer,” he whispered. His forefinger traced a line from her lips to her breast. Her nipple hardened as she gasped in surprise. She knew she was blushing.