Joan Wolf (19 page)

He looked up then and a golden light glowed deep in his eyes. “I was happy to discover that I was the son of an earl. Not because I wanted to leave my position or Heathfield, but because it meant I could marry Jane. I love her, father. I have never loved anyone else."

It was the first time David had ever addressed him as father. The Earl clenched his hands into fists on his knees, stared at David a minute, then rose. “You have never known anyone else,” he said definitely. “You are too young to marry. You are still a boy, David. Wait a while. You will be grateful to me in the future for this."

David looked up at his father thoughtfully, almost remotely. “And if I refuse?"

"You are a minor and my son. You cannot marry without my consent. We won't speak of this again, David,” the Earl said with the authority of a man who is used to being obeyed. “My decision is final."

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It is my soul that calls upon my name....

—William Shakespeare

David awoke early the next morning after a troubled night's sleep. As he lay, arms behind his head, watching the sun slanting through the blinds the door opened and one of the maids came in. “Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said. “I didn't know you were still here."

It was six-thirty in the morning. David looked at her without speaking and she came and stood at the foot of the bed. Her eyes sparkled and she thrust her hips forward. “Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked demurely, her dark eyes fixed appreciatively on the man lying so watchfully before her.

A flicker passed across David's face, then all expression was shuttered off. “No,” he replied evenly. “There is nothing you can do for me."

After she had gone, he rose and went to the window. From his bedroom he could see the river, the trees scattered on its bank, and the lovely, winding valley. The view was beautiful but it appeared to offer no solace to its future owner. The expression on David's face was bleak.

The conversation with his father last night had stunned him. The Earl's denial had been so unexpected that David had found no words to argue with him. It had never occurred to him that Lord Wymondham would object. He was accustomed to regarding Lord Rayleigh as his stumbling block, accustomed to thinking himself not good enough for Jane. He had been stunned to find that his father thought
he
was too young to marry. He had been in sole charge of his own life since he was sixteen; he had worked for a living since before that. It was astounding to find that Lord Wymondham apparently thought he could dictate the course of his life for him.

He had been too angry and too stunned to say much to his father last night and as he lay sleepless he had realized the wisdom of that approach. There really was nothing else he could say. There was only one solution to the problem, the solution he had arrived at before Lord Wymondham entered the picture: He and Jane would have to elope.

Lord Wymondham would doubtless be very angry. Perhaps, David thought, he would refuse to recognize him as his son. David didn't care. He only knew that he had to marry Jane.

Throughout the weeks of his sojourn at Wymondham, he had tried not to think about her. He had forced himself to wait until he felt confident that his new role in life was going to be workable. Last night's party had been a test, and he knew he had passed it. That was why he had spoken to his father about marrying Jane.

The Earl's refusal had unleashed the floodgates of his longing, and the haunting feeling of incompleteness, of irreparable loss that always ran below the surface of his life when he was separated from Jane, broke through its restraints. The ache of her absence was like an open wound. It had always been painful; now it was intolerable. The night they had spent together made this separation so much worse than any other. He needed her. For a brief moment he had thought to use the maid to assuage some of his aching hunger, but almost instantly he knew the futility of even trying. It was Jane he wanted. With an intensity of purpose that sprang from desperation, David began to make his plans.

With some reluctance Lord Wymondham agreed to a stop at Newmarket on their way to London. “I must see Jane,” David had said firmly. “She expects me to make an offer for her. I must explain things to her."

The Earl had reason to believe that Jane was owed an explanation and so he acquiesced in David's desire. Messages were sent to Heathfield and Lord Wymondham and his son were graciously invited to make a stay with the Marquis and Marchioness of Rayleigh. The Earl agreed to one night. He did not want to expose David to Jane's influence for too long a period.

He was pleased that David was behaving sensibly. Obviously he had considered what the Earl had said and had decided it was reasonable. At eighteen, he was much too young to tie himself down.

In fact, David had been emulating Jane's strategy when she found herself expected to marry Julian Wrexham. He said little and seemed to accept the Earl's decision. Unlike the Marquis, who had been alarmed by Jane's uncharacteristic docility, the Earl was gratified. He did not know David well enough to take fright.

The Earl sent two coaches ahead of them to London, heaped with luggage and servants. He and David took the phaeton and a few bags and drove by themselves to Newmarket. It was a warm, sunny day and Lord Wymondham was delighted with David's driving prowess. David made a great effort to overcome his preoccupation and was more talkative than he had been in weeks. Consequently, the Earl was in good spirits as they pulled into the Heathfield drive.

David felt as if he were coming home. Lord and Lady Rayleigh received them in the drawing room. Jane was not there. Correctly interpreting the look on his face, Anne said, “Jane hasn't come back yet from her ride. I'm sure she—” She was interrupted by the sound of a door opening.

"David!” Jane cried, joy and some other emotion trembling in the clear cadences of her voice.

David spun around as it he had been shot. He had prepared his face to greet her earlier, but her sudden appearance now undid him. For a long moment he stood looking at her and his father had a clear view of his unguarded face. What he saw there caused the breath to catch for a moment in his throat.

Taken by surprise, David's expression was painfully revealing. He looked at Jane and his face was the face of a man, not a boy, full of a naked, speechless hunger that caused his father to avert his eyes. No one should see so clearly into another man's soul. Lord Wymondham turned his eyes to Jane and what he saw there gave him little comfort. She stood silent, looking at David as if there were no one else who existed in the room, as if there were no one else who existed in the world. With a profound pang the Earl remembered that once, nineteen years ago, a girl had looked like that at him.

He turned back to look at his son. David slowly began to walk across the room to where Jane stood at the door. “I have to talk to you, Jane,” he said, his voice slightly unsteady. “Let's go to the library."

Without a word she turned and led him out of the room. The door closed behind them, leaving the Rayleighs and Lord Wymondham alone together. No one made any attempt to follow them. The Marquis turned to face David's father. “What happened?” he asked. “I was afraid there was something wrong when you said you would only stay one night."

The Earl did not pretend to misunderstand. “I told him I did not want him to marry for a few years."

"Oh, my God.” Lord Rayleigh walked to the window and back. “I don't think you quite understand the situation, Wymondham,” he said finally.

"Perhaps you had better tell me, Rayleigh,” the Earl said slowly. “I think perhaps I do not."

In the library, David was standing with Jane's hands clasped tightly in his own, his eyes devouring her face. “We shall have to elope,” he said.

"I knew something was wrong.” Her voice was surprisingly serene. “All right, we'll elope. Don't look so worried. Shall we go tonight?"

His face lightened and once again he looked his age. “There's no one like you, Jane. Yes. Tonight. I'll meet you at the side door at two o'clock."

Her great blue-green eyes began to sparkle. “Are we going to Scotland?"

"We'll have to.” There was a pause, then he said, “He doesn't think I should get married for a few years. He may cut me off, Jane, if we do this."

She shrugged. “We don't need Wymondham. We can manage by ourselves. You aren't some ridiculous dandy who never learned how to do a day's work."

He smiled. Now that he was with her, things suddenly seemed so much easier. He smoothed her hair off her forehead. “And you aren't a drawing-room lady afraid to soil her hands on a parvenu like myself.” His mouth took on an obstinate look. “I don't want Wymondham if I can't have you. The price is too high. If you're not there the most beautiful place in the world might as well be a desert as far as I'm concerned."

"Why does your father want you to wait, David?” she asked curiously.

"He says I'm too young.” He looked down into her beautiful face and his eyes narrowed. “Perhaps he's right. Perhaps we're both too young for what we feel. But that doesn't alter the fact that we feel it. He's a nice man, Jane, but he doesn't understand. He couldn't. He doesn't know us."

She was standing close to him, her head tipped back to look up into his face. His fingers moved caressingly along the fine line of her jaw to the back of her head. “It's been hell without you,” he said low.

She stood perfectly still. Her eyes had darkened. “I know,” she whispered.

He bent his head and began to kiss her.

Lord Rayleigh did know Jane and David, and he was attempting to explain the situation to Lord Wymondham. “I can't tell you how relieved I was when David turned out to be your son,” he said frankly. “You understand that I could hardly have allowed Jane to marry him before, but I tell you honestly I lived in daily dread of having a confrontation with her about it.” He smiled wryly. “I hope I don't sound cowardly, my lord, but I would rather face a troop of Napoleon's best dragoons, single-handed, than have to face Jane and tell her she can't marry David."

"I rather thought she was going to marry my nephew,” Lord Wymondham said stiffly.

"I had hopes at first,” the Marquis said wearily. “But once we got back to Heathfield, I knew it was no good."

"Jane refused him, you know,” Anne said in her gentle voice. “She said she needed time to think about it. What she needed, I think, was time to talk to David.” Anne smoothed her skirt, avoiding the eyes of both men. “I always wondered why she showed a preference for Mr. Wrexham. Now I know. Facially he somewhat resembled David.” She ran her fingers carefully over the figured muslin of her skirt. “I thought she and David were going to elope."

"What!” The Marquis stared at her in horror. “You never said anything about that to me."

"I know.” She still refused to meet his eyes. “I was rather in sympathy with them, I'm afraid. Besides, what could you have done about it, Edward? What
would,
you have done?” She raised her eyes now and fixed a gentle blue gaze on Lord Wymondham. “Those two children love each other, my lord. They love each other quite intensely, as a matter of fact. If we refuse to allow them to marry with our blessing, they will marry without it. they will simply go away and live together. They will both be ruined socially and it will have been our fault."

The Marquis looked at his wife, respect in his eyes. “What do you think he is saying to her now?” he asked.

"Whatever it is,” Anne replied matter-of-factly, “you can be sure it isn't goodbye."

"He is only eighteen years old,” the Earl said abruptly.

"And Jane is seventeen. But this is not a case of youthful infatuation we are dealing with, Lord Wymondham.” Anne was pitiless. “They have loved each other exclusively for eleven years. I am sure David will grow quite fond of you, but the only person he will ever really love is Jane."

"Oh, I say, Anne,” the Marquis expostulated, seeing a shadow cross Lord Wymondham's face.

"It is true,” Anne said inexorably. “It is the same with Jane. She is very attached to you, Edward, but.... “She let the sentence dangle.

"I know.” He sighed. “I remember once I asked her if she ever thought of anyone except David. She said of course she did. She thought about me and her drawing teacher and the horses. I'm afraid that's about where I rank. And it she thought it would save David the slightest discomfort, she would unhesitatingly throw me, Miss Becker, the horses, and you, too, Anne, over the nearest cliff. Anne is right about David, Wymondham. He feels the same way about Jane. I've known that for a long time.” He hesitated. “I don't know if you've ever seen his face when he looks at her."

"I did just now,” the Earl said harshly.

"Yes. Well, then you know what I mean."

As they were speaking the door opened and Jane and David came in. Their faces were identically expressionless. The Earl looked at them for a moment in silence, then he said, “Has David told you my decision, Lady Jane?"

"Yes,” she answered composedly. “We don't agree with you, Lord Wymondham, but I suppose there is nothing we can do about it."

"You could always elope,” he said bluntly.

The way their eyes flew together in startled consternation was evidence enough. Instinctively, David's hand went up to rest possessively on the nape of Jane's neck. He said nothing, only stared at his father out of hostile, golden eyes.

The Earl looked at that hand, and at both of their faces. He sighed. He knew when he was beaten; he was not a diplomat for nothing. “I have been talking to Lord and Lady Rayleigh,” he said to his son. “It seems I have made a mistake. There will be no need for you to elope. You may be married here at Heathfield in a proper ceremony. I will be happy to attend. Afterward you may live at Wymondham."

There was a flash of color as Jane raised her eyes to David. He was looking straight at his father, equal to equal. “You are quite sure of that, sir?"

"Yes. You have my word on it."

"When?"