Lady Jane (2 page)

When she had finished, the housekeeper spoke. “Mr. Leach is waiting to speak to you, Coombes.”

Jane rose meekly and followed the broad back of the housekeeper down the hall to the butler’s pantry, where Mr. Leach was counting out the silver for the breakfast trays. He glanced up, but continued his task with great deliberation, not speaking until he had finished and locked the cupboard. Jane stood, chin up proudly, while the housekeeper waited behind her grimly, her hands folded beneath her apron.

“Well, Coombes, what you been up to, eh,” asked Mr. Leach finally, turning to her.

“ ’Twere an accident, sir.”

“An accident? To tear m’lady’s gown to shreds? I shouldn’t half-ring a peal over your head, my girl, causing me to have to listen to that Friday-faced Wright spitting fire at me this morning, before I even had my breakfast! Well! Speak up, what have you got to say for yourself?”

“Nothin’, sir.”

“And nothing’s what you’ll get, my girl, for they’ll not give you a character after this caper.”

“But I give ’un four good years of service—”

“Makes no never mind, they’ll not give you more than the wages due you and they want you out of the house immediately.”

She stared at him blankly, trying to fight down her rising panic, for well she knew how impossible it would be to be taken on anywhere without references. In spite of her resolve to take her medicine bravely, the tears rose in her eyes.

Mr. Leach came toward her. He’d had his eye on Jane for the past year, only too aware of the ripening figure, which he had looked forward to exploring at his leisure at some time in the not too distant future, as he had done with many another maid of the household. For Mr. Leach was a powerful man, his authority supreme in the servants’ quarters, and the young girls, more often than not, had been glad to acquiesce to his demands in order to remain in his favour. But he was always careful not to take them too young, and not to get them into trouble, for he prized his position, an enormously lucrative one for him, and he knew that any hint of pregnant serving girls would land him in the streets.

His eyes flickered hungrily over the ripe red mouth and the perfect breasts, and he wished there was some way to get that hawk-faced old besom Wright out of the room. He sighed regretfully, for he knew she’d never budge, and contented himself with patting Jane’s fresh, rounded cheek in an avuncular fashion.

“Well, then, crying mends nothing. Here’s your money. I’m sorry for you, girl.”

She turned away, swallowing a sob, and stumbled to the door.
She was
taken by surprise at his kindness, for she’d never cared for Mr. Leach very much, though some of the girls thought him handsome. Jane had thought his eyes set too close together and hadn’t cared for the look she sometimes saw in them when he eyed her. And his mouth, she thought, was that cruel lookin’, so thin-lipped he was. He’d never even deigned to speak to her before, and she felt he thought too highly of himself. But perhaps she’d been mistaken in him.

Presently she found herself standing in the street, her box in her hand, and shivering slightly in her worn black pelisse. As she stood in the entryway to the servants’ entrance, trying to decide which direction to turn, she heard the main door of the house opening and turned to see who was coming out.

“Tell my mama I won’t be in for luncheon,” said Lord Jaspar as he came down the steps and crossed the pavement to his phaeton, waiting at the curb.

Jane noticed with some satisfaction that he was walking somewhat awkwardly, and her lips twitched with glee. He glanced up at that moment and saw her, and saw, also, the smile. He flushed painfully, and ducked quickly into his carriage.

Hmpf! thought Jane, you’re nought but a cowardly boy, for all your pretty face and grand airs. No fear you told your mother and sister just
how
that robe got tore, and you as much to blame as me that’s payin’ for it. Well—not quite so much, to be sure, for if I’d not taken me clothes off in the first place, he’d not of tried his games.

She saw the coachman jump down from his perch and go to the side, where a hand came out and dropped something into the servant’s palm. The man looked around, saw Jane, and came to her.

“M’lord says to gie’ ’ee this,” he said, holding out his hand in which rested a gold coin.

She stared at it for an instant, then snatching it up, she marched around the man and up to the carriage.

She stared at Lord Jaspar disdainfully for a moment, then with a flick of her wrist, tossed the coin into his lap, where it landed squarely on that section of his anatomy he was still most painfully aware of this morning. He gasped. She drew herself up regally, threw up her chin, and sailed away down the street triumphantly.

2

A
week later
she thought with regret of that gold coin, and acknowledged that the pleasure of the grand gesture of throwing it back at him would have been better foregone.

She had spent that entire first day trudging from one agency to another and being summarily ejected when she confessed to having been let go without references. When it drew toward evening, she’d finally made her way, barely able to drag one foot after the other, deep into the stews of Cheapside, to the only person she knew outside the Montmorency household.

Mrs. Blodgett and Jane’s mother had come up from their country village together as girls to go into service in London, and had kept in touch as much as possible over the years. Jane had not seen the woman since her mother’s funeral, but felt sure Mrs. Blodgett would take her in until she could get a situation.

She had done so, but Jane had never been more unhappy in her life. The Blodgetts lived in one wretched room that opened directly into a narrow, cobbled street, running with filth dumped from night pails out of upper floor windows. The smell seeping in the front door was indescribable. Inside the small, fetid room were a kitchen table, two benches, and two beds. One bed was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Blodgett, and their small son, whose continually dripping nose and filth-smeared face caused Jane to lose her appetite every time she sat down to share their meager supper.

The other bed Jane shared with the two daughters of the household, both near herself in age, and neither any better than she should be, Jane suspected.

Bedtime had become a nightmare for her in spite of her aching body and desperation for rest. The bed covers were brownish-gray from dirt and, she realized with growing horror, were occupied by animal life other than herself and the Blodgett sisters. She couldn’t repress a shudder every time she forced herself beneath them. In spite of her distaste, however, she jumped in fairly smartly, for across the room she could feel the avid eyes of Mr. Blodgett, who leered at her continuously when she was in the room. Jane could only pretend not to notice, and pray that Mrs. Blodgett wouldn’t.

Jane had left very early every morning, and plodded up one street and down another, hour after hour, knocking at the servants’ entrances of every mansion she came to, asking if help were needed. She’d found nothing.

She was aware that her appearance was beginning to tell against her. Since there were no facilities for washing at the Blodgetts, she knew she was none too clean looking. The terrible air in the room, the poor diet, and the inability to sleep properly while clinging to the edge of the crowded bed being poked awake again and again by sharp elbows and knees, had drained the fresh colour from her cheeks and printed dark shadows beneath her eyes. The looks of contempt, or worse, pity, that now greeted her requests for employment had so shaken her that her natural ebullience had disappeared. The pert, laughing eyes were dulled by a failure she had, so far in her young life, not experienced. She had begun to think her life too insupportable to be borne much longer, though she could think of nothing more to do than she was doing to change it. She couldn’t even dredge up comforting words of her mother’s from her memory any more.

In a mood of flat despair at the end of the seventh day of not finding work, she turned her sore and aching legs for the long walk back to Cheapside and the end-of-the-day routine that had become more difficult to face every day, with the prospect of lewd remarks and grabbing hands from the men who lounged in the dark doorways of the narrow, cobbled streets, and, when she finally passed that hurdle, the quarreling Blodgetts and the greedy eyes of Mr. Blodgett crawling over her body.

It took her some moments to realize that the gentleman staring into the shop window was Mr. Leach. She nearly called aloud when she realized who it was, so great was her pleasure to see a familiar face from that very recent past which, in retrospect, seemed ideal. She stopped herself from speaking, suddenly ashamed to have anyone from that household see her in her present condition. Before she could move away, however, Mr. Leach turned and came down the street toward her. It seemed for a moment that he would pass by without recognizing her at all in any case, but at the last moment he stopped suddenly. “Here—is that you, Jane Coombes?”

She threw up her chin and forced herself to smile gaily, “Well, well, imagine runnin’ into you, Mr. Leach! Don’t tell me—let me guess—you’ve come lookin’ for me because the household is fallin’ round your ears without me!”

“Sauce!” he said laughing. “Well, how is it with you, girl?”

“Not so bad as it could be, thank you Mr. Leach.”

“Well, if you want the word with no bark on it, I’d say you was being less than truthful with me, Janie girl. Come on now—out with it. You’ve found no work, eh?”

“Not yet—but it’s not been more nor a week. I’ll find somethin’, never you fear,” she replied proudly, staring him straight in the eye defiantly, daring him to feel sorry for her.

“Well, I like your spirit, that I do. Here—you come along with me. I’m just on my way to my little house and a grand meal cooked by m’sister.”

“You got an ’ouse of your own, Mr. Leach?” she asked in surprise.

“That I have, and a pretty little piece of property it is too. M’sister takes care of it for me and on my day off I go round for a good meal.”

“Oh—but—but—well, I don’t think I better, though I thank you for the askin’,” she said uneasily, aware of the grubbiness of her appearance. “I doubt your sister would thank you for draggin’ home someone off the streets—”

“She’s nothing to say to it at all. ’Tis my house and what I says goes. And she don’t like it, out she goes and well she knows it!” he declared vehemently, his eyes turning hard at the thought of anyone daring to defy his wishes.

Seeing Jane wince away at the change in his tone, he became all affability once more, declaring he’d not take no for an answer, and taking her arm, he pulled her along down the street with him.

The gimlet-eyed woman who opened the door to them stared impassively at Jane when Mr. Leach introduced them, sniffed, and turned away without speaking. Mr. Leach called her back.

“Not so fast, Lizzie. You’ll take Janie here for a good wash-up before you set out the supper. Up to the spare room, if you please.”

She turned back to exchange a long look with him, which he returned blandly with a slight lifting of his lip at one corner. She finally shrugged slightly.

“Come along then,” she said as she started up the narrow stairs leading to the second floor.

During this exchange Jane had covertly examined what she could see of the house from the tiny front hall. Though the house was s
m
al
l
and unimposing from the outside, and cramped from what she could see of the inside, still it was compact and well-furnished, and
clean.

Lizzie led her into a tiny room furnished only with a cot and a straight-backed chair, and in one corner a table with a basin on it.

“Wait here, I’ll bring water,” Lizzie told her and then left.

Jane stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room, wishing she’d never allowed herself to be persuaded to come here, in spite of the comfort of a familiar face and the promise of a good meal. Miss Leach made it very clear that she was not welcome, and the prospect of sitting down to a meal with such a starchy, Friday-faced woman was repellent.

Lizzie Leach looked exactly like her brother, but had none of his ability to dissemble. She had had a grim life, and found nothing much to smile about She worked hard, did her duty as she saw it, and went about the business of life with a total lack of interest in anything outside the four walls of her brother’s house. She was grateful to him for making it possible for her to leave the service of other people and move into a home of her own with no one to give her orders. Except Leach, of course, but she didn’t mind it from her brother. He never stinted her on money, though as she was a frugal housekeeper he had no cause to worry that she would waste it, and if, from time to time, he chose to bring home a woman, Lizzie turned a blind eye. It was all she could do, since he never asked her opinion, nor accepted any criticism.

She carried a pitcher of warm water up to the spare room and poured it into the basin. She put the towel and soap down beside it and turned, to the door.

“Miss Leach—”

“Yes?” asked Lizzie, her hand on the latch.

“Thank you. It’s most kind of you and your brother to have me here.”

Lizzie nodded coldly and continued out the door, closing it firmly behind her. Jane shuddered involuntarily, then turned eagerly to the warm water and soap. After only a moment’s hesitation, she stripped off her clothes and hurriedly began washing her whole body. Might’s well take advantage while ’tis available, there bein’ no way of knowin’ when me next chance will come, she thought.

When she came down the stairs fifteen minutes later, she felt much more like her old self. Her spirits had lifted just with the knowledge that she was clean again. Mr. Leach, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, nodded approvingly and without ceremony led the way down the narrow dark hallway to the kitchen.

The meal that followed, though simple, was well-cooked and ample. Jane tried not to appear as starving as she actually was, but it was difficult to turn down second helpings after the slim rations she had been on for the past week. She finally sat back, full and happy. She looked sleepily at Lizzie and thanked her for the good food. Lizzie, as usual, made no comment.

“Well, now, young Jane, so you’ve had no luck finding a situation?”

“No. I’ve near walked me feet off, too. I was wonderin’ if you’d heard of any place, Mr. Leach?”

“Can’t say’s I have. Where you living, then?”

“With me mum’s old friend in Cheapside. But I can’t stay there for long. They’ve no room for me really and—well—” She stopped, unable to admit the true squalor of the Blodgett household.

“Cheapside! Never tell me you’ll go all the way back there in the dark! Why, we wouldn’t hear of it, would we, Lizzie?”

Lizzie didn’t even bother to look up. She had finished her meal long ago, and now waited, hands folded in her lap, for a nod from her brother to clear the table.

Jane, uncomfortable under this silence, laughed nervously.

“Oh, I’ll be all right, no fear. I’ve learned how to handle mesel’ this past week.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t be responsible for sending a young girl out to such a place at this hour. You’ll stay here. We’ve the extra room, and it’ll be no bother.”

Jane was overwhelmed by this thoughtfulness. Never had she suspected that Mr. Leach was such a kindhearted man. His sister might be cold as the grave, but Mr. Leach understood. She felt a lump in her throat so large that though she opened her mouth to express her gratitude, no words would come out.

Seeing her tears, Mr. Leach laughed good-humouredly and smoothly led the conversation into other channels. He nodded to his sister, who rose immediately. When Jane saw this she also rose, preparing to help, but he would not allow her to do so.

“Come, sit. You’ve been on your feet all day, and Lizzie doesn’t like anyone to help her.”

So while the close-faced woman went about her work silently, Mr. Leach leaned back in his chair, stretched his long legs to one side, and spoke pleasantly with his guest. Jane began to relax finally, and asked eager questions about all her friends in the Montmorency household below stairs, and about the doings of the Quality above.

When she was finally taken back to the tiny room upstairs by the dour Lizzie, Jane could hardly wait for the woman to leave the room so that she could climb into the cot. After the filthy bed she’d shared with the Blodgett sisters this past week, the small bed with the clean sheets and no other occupants looked like heaven. She thanked Lizzie for the nightgown she’d lent and for the candle and wished her goodnight.

Two minutes later she was between the sheets and stretching luxuriously. One minute later she was asleep.

Slowly she came awake. It could have been minutes later or hours later. It was like swimming slowly to the surface from the bottom of the ocean. She became aware of hands caressing and kneading her shoulders and breasts as consciousness returned and her eyes fluttered open. She stared witlessly up into the face of Mr. Leach, and it took her a long moment to realize why he looked so different. He was naked!

She shrieked and sat up suddenly, pushing his hands away at the same time and pulling her gown back up over her shoulders.

“Now, now, girlie. It’s only me. No need for hollering your head off in that way. You’ll wake Lizzie and she’ll be angry with you.”

“Get
out
of here! What do you think you’re doin’?” she hissed at him.

“Why, I got lonely thinking about you, little girl, and thought, Well, there she is—just across the hall so I’ll just step across and pay her a call,” he replied with a grin.

“Well, you can just step back, for I’m not receivin’ callers at this hour of night,” she snapped indignantly.

“Mustn’t be rude, Janie—that’s not nice—and you got no call to treat me rudely, have you now?”

“I hope I’m grateful for your kindness, Mr. Leach, and you may be sure I’d every intention of thankin’ you properly in the mornin’ before I left.”