Lady Jane (10 page)

The dressmaker was sent for immediately, over Jane’s protests that she
had
the claret merino, surely enough for the finest lady.

“Good God, child,” Lady Payton protested between horror and amusement, “you cannot wear it every day! And then there are undergarments and bed gowns and—great heavens—where are my wits got to? I must have Mrs. Plummer fetch my wedding gown from the attic. I’m sure it will come very near fitting you perfectly—though perhaps it will need to be changed—it is very old-fashioned.”

But when Jane saw it she would not hear of having it changed even though it was made to be worn over panniers. She lifted it reverently from its silver paper wrappings, speechless at its fairy-tale beauty. It was of white velvet, elaborately embroidered with tiny crystal beads all over the stiff, pointed bodice and down the front and around the edge of the wide, sweeping hem. When she put it on and it was draped over the oval whale bone hoops she felt like a princess. Her waist seemed impossibly tiny, her arms, emerging from the foams of blond lace at the elbows, unbelievably delicate. The square neckline revealed rather more bosom than she thought quite proper, but she held her tongue, unwilling for Lady Payton to ascribe “servant’s prudery” to her as Sebastian had done.

In fact, Jane had spoken very little since Sebastian’s proposal, moving around the house in a haze of disbelief at this turn her life had taken, afraid to speak for fear it would not be true after all. She continued to do all the things she had done before, except wait on the table at dinner. Lady Payton had adamantly refused to allow her to do so, insisting that from now on Jane must take her meals with them and they would be served by Mrs. Plummer.

The first morning, when Jane went as usual to the kitchen for Lady Payton’s chocolate tray, was the only time when she allowed her real fears to show. She saw at once that Mrs. Plummer and Mrs. McKirk knew everything from the uncertainty of their manner toward her. She immediately reached out her hands to each of them.

“Oh, dear Mrs. Plummer—darling Mrs. McKirk, please tell me how I must go on! I count on you to help me, for I vow I’m frightened out of my wits and don’t know if I’ll be able to go through with it!”

They responded unhesitatingly to this appeal, all their mistrustful feelings about the situation and Jane flying out of their thoughts on the instant.

“Nonsense, my girl, you’ll not only go through with it, you’ll do so with your chin up and your shoulders back,” declared Mrs. Plummer stoutly.

“You’ll be standing for all of us, remember, and if you disgrace yourself you’ll shame us all!” Mrs. McKirk chimed in. “Frightened, indeed! Of what, I’d like to know?”

“Of everything!” Jane wailed, suddenly letting go of all her terror. “Of being a wife, of being married so grand, of doing or saying the wrong thing and making them ashamed of me.” She threw herself on Mrs. Plummer’s capacious bosom and sobbed. They caressed her and soothed her and said she was their own Jane and would do just fine and they’d always stand by her.

“Our own Lady Jane, you shall be, and make us all proud,” Mrs. McKirk declared, and so they called her from that day, though of course, only amongst themselves, for like most servants of the day they prided themselves on their knowledge of the proper use of tides, and Jane, as they were well aware, while entitled to be addressed as Lady Payton on her marriage, would have had to be at least the daughter of an earl to have the privilege of being called Lady Jane. Their awarding her therefore with this private nickname was an expression of the fellowship they felt for her as a former servant, and their pride that one of their own could rise to such heights. In a large household of servants where factions, ambitions and backbiting prevailed, this warmth of feeling could not have been so easily achieved. But here, where the few, elderly servants had given most of their lives to Sebastian’s comfort, their unity of purpose had given them different priorities, and Jane was doubly dear to them, having caused them all to love her, and then making happiness possible for their dear Lord Sebastian.

10

The
very new
Lady Payton sat up against her pillows in the large tester bed, the coverlet pulled up to her shoulders, allowing only a glimpse of the foaming lace at the neck of her bed gown, and above that a tumble of dark brown curls and sherry-coloured eyes wide with an apprehension she was doing her best to fight down.

The Dowager Lady Payton and Lady Stanier had departed after the wedding luncheon to spend the night at Maidstone and start for London very early tomorrow. Before her departure she had put the finishing touches to this boudoir she had created for her new daughter within Sebastian’s wing of the house. It was in startling contrast to the dark, muted colours preferred by Sebastian, being all white and gold and blue. It had three large windows draped in blue velvet over a film of embroidered lawn which matched the bed curtains. In each window embrasure there stood a pedestal holding an enormous bowl of white and yellow roses from the Larkwoods greenhouse.

Jane had not been allowed to see the room until after the wedding, when the elder Lady Payton conducted her to it. It was her special bridal gift to her dear Jane. Waiting there to greet Jane were Lady Stanier’s gifts: Fred Crews and his new wife, Betty, who was to be abigail to Jane. Jane lost every shred of her new dignity when she saw Crews, the friend from London who had been instrumental in getting her to Larkwoods. Clasping his hand in both of her own she burst into tears. Crews sustained this display of emotion with as much dignity as possible, though his own eyes were moist as he turned awkwardly to introduce his new wife, who dropped the first curtsy Jane had ever received in her life. Still too new in her role to be aware of any solecism, Jane threw her arms around Betty and kissed her cheek.

Betty, round and plump as a robin, righted the situation with unruffled aplomb. “Thank you, m’lady, I’m sure. Fred and me want to wish you happy, and hope we’ll suit.”

The “m’lady” caused Jane to blush, but she pulled herself up and thanked her new maid with a shy smile.

Betty had been waiting for her when Jane came upstairs to prepare for bed, and had helped her out of her dress and into the new bed gown.

Jane watched the sweet, round face behind her in the mirror as Betty vigourously brushed out Jane’s curls.

“I—I—hope you will not find it too lonely here, Betty,” Jane said, unconsciously echoing old Lady Payton’s words to herself when she had first arrived at Larkwoods.

“Never you worry yourself about that, m’lady. I’ve got Fred to keep me company, and I shall be too busy to need anymore. I’m to be trained to replace Mrs. Plummer,” Betty replied with great satisfaction.

“Oh—I see. Oh, Betty,” Jane burst out suddenly, “you can’t know what a welcome sight you and Crews were to me, and how grateful I am to you for coming all the way down here to help us.”

“Oh, Fred and me likes the country, m’lady, and Lord Payton’s doubled Fred’s wages,” Betty answered complacently.

Finally Betty had tucked her mistress into the vast bed and bid her goodnight, and now, without her maid’s calm, reassuring presence, all Jane’s fears came flooding in on her. Besides the normal ones any young girl of Jane’s class would experience on being projected into tided wealth in the space of two weeks, there was the great, overriding one of the sexual duties that would be required of her. Would she be able to go through with it without terror and revulsion of the whole business, which Sebastian would undoubtedly ascribe to himself and his physical deformity, the one thing she was determined not to allow him to think?

Her feelings for Sebastian were not those of a young girl who had fallen passionately in love. She loved him deeply, but her love was a compound of respect and admiration bordering on reverence. She had long ago decided that she would dedicate the rest of her life to taking care of him, though she had not envisaged herself in any other role than that of, eventually, his housekeeper.

Her gratitude for his proposal of marriage had deepened her devotion to him, for her need to be wanted and loved was almost as strong as her need to bestow her own bountiful affection, and he could not have given her stronger proof of love than to propose marriage.

Completely dazed by this knowledge and in a delightful state of confusion caused by all the preparations that had to be made in a very short time, she had had little time nor inclination for introspection. The building excitement had finally climaxed at eleven this morning in a simple ceremony attended only by Lady Payton, Lady Stanier, and the servants. A delightful luncheon party followed with the bridal couple, the two sisters, and the reverend gentleman from London. After this came the surprise of the boudoir and the Crewses, and the departure of Lady Payton and Lady Stanier. As the afternoon gently deaccelerated, certain emotions began to emerge which she had not experienced for many months. The nightmares which had plagued her sleep after Leach’s vicious attack had ceased altogether after it became obvious that she was not pregnant, and then her contentment with her position at Larkwoods and her studies with Sebastian had so filled her mind she had no time to think of the past

Now, however, the moment was approaching when she would be expected to experience again the horrible, suffocating weight—she gasped in terror as the memory flooded over her, and throwing back the coverlet, rose to her feet and stood there in trembling panic.

Then with a sigh she sank back onto the bed. How silly she was, she thought with a soft giggle of relief. Whatever else her husband was, he would
not
be a suffocating weight! This thought gave her so much relief she was able to lie back against her pillows and pull up the coverlet again. She sat staring straight before her with wide open eyes and valiantly tried to face what lay in store for her with a measure of equanimity.

Her husband, meanwhile, stood silently outside her door, one hand raised to tap. After several moments, he lowered his hand and turned to pace up and down the hallway, hands in the pockets of his brocade dressing gown, eyes on the pattern of the carpet

How
can
I go in to her, he asked himself in despair? She will be horrified and unable to hide it and I will wish to die. How could I ever have imagined myself as husband to that delicious creature? How the world would laugh and sneer if they knew. I know, better than any of them, that she could not love me, though I know she honours me and will be kind. I thought I had resigned myself to asking nothing more of her. So why am I here?

The fact was, he had indeed decided that he would not rouse her disgust by forcing himself on her, but during the afternoon, spent romping on the lawn with her and Wellington followed by a long walk around the park with Jane decorously holding his arm, and later, during the dinner
a deux
before the fire in his study, he had begun to have other thoughts on the matter.

What if she
expected
him to perform his husbandly duties and would be hurt and bewildered if he stayed away from her? Or worse, thought he stayed away because he was incapable and too ashamed to admit it? Then she would pity him.

This thought caused him to determine that he would go to her, for he could not tolerate pity, particularly from her. He was not worried about his capability. After all, it was only his legs that had not grown, and though he might lack practical experience, his years of reading the literature of the world on the subject of satisfying women had given him a very good idea of how to set about it.

He was also aware that her terrible experience in London might have given her a dread of all men that she could not control no matter how eager she might be to accept him fully as a husband. That, however, could be overcome with patience and skill if he did not repulse her physically.

Well, I shall never resolve anything here in the hallway, he thought ruefully. The best thing is just to go in and say goodnight and leave if she seems frightened or revolted by the sight of me.

He marched resolutely back to her door and tapped firmly before he could lose his courage again. When he heard her hesitant “C-come in,” he opened the door.

The sight of her, sitting up against her pillows, hair tumbling down over her shoulders, eyes wide, caused him to freeze in the doorway, heart pounding so riotously it was painful.

They stared wordlessly at one another for a full moment before her sense of humour prodded her into a tiny laugh.

“My goodness, we act as though this is the first time we’ve ever seen each other,” she said.

He let go of his pent-up breath and smiled back. “Well, it
is
the first time I’ve seen your hair down—and it is very beautiful,” he replied, stepping in and closing the door. He walked slowly over to the crackling fire and poked it unnecessarily with the tongs. “Do you find your room comfortable?” he asked without turning around.

“A little grand for the likes of me.”

“Ah, but the likes of you are now Lady Payton, and such a room is not too grand for her.”

“Not if she felt equal to the title,” she said softly.

“You must not be fearful about that, Jane,” he said, walking over to stand beside the bed, “you are equal to anything or anyone.”

She blushed and dropped her eyes, unable to think of anything to say to such an overwhelming compliment. He reached out for her hand and felt her start with surprise. She did not withdraw it, however, and it lay trembling in his for a moment before he bent, kissed her fingers briefly, and restored it to her.

“You must be exhausted from this long day, so I will say goodnight, my dear. Sleep well.” With that he turned and walked briskly away to the door before she could recover from the surprise of this abrupt withdrawal. Her hand reached out to him.

“No, no—I am not in the least—” she stopped, realizing that she was being tactless, for of course
he
was the one who must be exhausted.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked and turned to find her hand outstretched as though for help.

He rushed back to her side. “Jane, darling! What is it? You must not be frightened!”

“I’m not exactly frightened, m’lord, only—only—the room is so big and the b-bed is so big, and I feel—I feel—”

“Try to tell me,” he urged.

“It’s only that I seem—somehow—smaller—with so much space about me and—and—cold.”

Made bold by her distress, he sat down on the side of the bed and took both her hands in his own to warm them. “Perfectly natural way for you to feel,” he said reassuringly. “In a few days you will grow into your new space and it will all seem friendlier. I think you might begin to make it all seem—er—friendlier, if you could bring yourself to call me Sebastian. M’lord is—distancing—for both of us.”

“Then I must try—Sebastian,” she said with a shy smile.

They sat for a few moments, each wishing they could think of the right thing to say, and each experiencing the same two widely disparate urgings, though they were unaware of sharing them. The first was to be alone because the situation they were in was too emotionally charged to be at ease in. The other urge was to hold on to one another for the comfort each derived from the other’s presence.

He longed to suggest that he spend the night with her but was afraid she would think it just an excuse to climb into her bed. She longed to ask him to stay and hold her but was afraid he would think she was being forward in asking for more than he might be willing or able to give after the long, tiring day.

The impasse was resolved when into the quivering silence came a loud snap from the burning log in the fireplace. She threw herself against him with a little shriek and his arms quickly folded around her and held her close.

“How foolish I am,” she said with a shaky laugh, starting to pull away. But he held on to her and she subsided against his chest again. After another long moment he forced himself to take charge of the situation, feeling that as the man, it was required of him, even at the risk of a rebuff.

“Jane, my dear, would it please you to have my company for this first night?”

“Yes,” she whispered simply.

He released her and rose to remove his robe. She moved over and he slipped into bed beside her.

“Now put your head on my shoulder and I will hold you and you needn’t be frightened anymore.”

She obediently slid down and put her head trustingly on his shoulder. He held her, one hand on her shoulder, the other across her waist against her back. It took every effort of his will to lie perfectly still. His hand on her shoulder longed to squeeze the firm, round flesh beneath his fingers, just as his other hand longed to explore the deep indentation of her spine. After awhile just thinking of this made it necessary for him to shift the lower part of his body away from her, carefully since her slow, regular breathing seemed to indicate that she had fallen asleep. But in case she were not asleep he did not want to frighten her by his very obvious arousal.

Jane had drifted into a delightful state between sleep and wakefulness in the warmth and safety of his arms. Without waking fully she instinctively followed the movement of his body when he withdrew its warmth. His hands could no longer be denied the pleasure they ached for and infinitely slowly they began caressing her. Feather-light, his fingers traced the delicious crease down her back and up again, each trip expanding their territory until he found two little dimples just above each cheek of her round little bottom. He wished the delicate lawn bed gown were at the moment smouldering in the fireplace.