Lady Jane (26 page)

These matters settled as far as possible, Jane rang her bell rope, sat up against her propped pillow’s, and waited for Clinton and Nurse.

After breakfast she would take him herself for his ride on Brown Boy. The best thing for him was to behave as though yesterday’s events were only an unpleasant break in his normal routine. She could hope it would all soon fade completely from his memory. After all, in spite of his precociousness, he was still only a very young child.

That he was so, and that the events of yesterday held little importance today in his mind, was demonstrated as he entered her room with a rousing cry of joy, accompanied, as usual, by a yelping Wellington. They both scrambled onto her bed and attempted to kiss her—and the romp was on!

Later she took him to visit Brown Boy and when they returned, sat down to write her heartfelt gratitude to Jaspar, as unemotionally as possible, ending it with the hope that his mother was mending and instructing him to ask Sarah to call when she could.

The last turned out to be unnecessary, for five minutes after the note had been dispatched, Sarah appeared, resplendent in claret velvet and sables.

“Isn’t it odd to need furs after the warmth of Kent?” she sang out from the doorway, throwing the furs carelessly across a chair and advancing, arms held out, upon Jane. “Darling! You are brave as a Cossack! Who would dream you capable of taking a gun and going after the villain alone? I’ve never been so terrified in my life! Are you all right?”

Jane laughed at her extravagance. “Perfectly. And don’t try to make a heroine of me, my dear, when you know perfectly well it is you who deserve a medal. Aunt Stanier is full of your praises—and so am I. And so very grateful, dear Sarah, for your cleverness and quick action.”

“Ah well,” Sarah said, brushing this away in embarrassment, “how is the child?”

“I honestly believe he’s practically forgotten it already. I wish it were so with me,” she added wistfully.

“By next week it will only be a vaguely remembered bad dream,” Sarah assured her, “but I die of curiosity! What did he want? Leach, I mean. Why did he do it?”

“To pay me back for snubbing him the night you took me there,” Jane said, wishing to be as truthful as possible, but unwilling to confide the
entire
truth.

“How did you get Clinton out of the house?” Sarah persisted. Jane explained her ruse and its effectiveness as briefly as possible. “But then what happened? What did he want to talk
about?
You’re being most unforthcoming, Jane.”

“He—he wanted my help in his business, a sort of—of lure to draw customers. I refused and he sent for Clinton to be brought back. Then when he discovered my trick he became very angry and came after me and—and—”

“Jaspar burst in and shot him! Hurrah!” Sarah broke in irrepressibly, “oh, dear Jane, if you could have seen him go galloping off to rescue his fair damsel from the dragon! I have always hoped that you and Jaspar—”

“Please—no—” Jane held up both hands in a vain effort to stem what she knew was coming, her face showing her great distress.

“Oh, no blushes now. Surely we are such bosom-bows by now we can be open in all things?”

“But there’s nothing—”

“Ho! I’m not such a paperskull I can be fobbed off with maidenly protests! Have I not eyes? I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is noticing.”

“Sarah, I beg you not—” Jane began desperately, but Sarah, the bit well between her teeth now, rushed forward headlong.

“And nothing—
nothing
—will please me more than to be able to call you sister!”

Jane knew she could not bear another moment of this conversation. She said quite sternly, “No more, Sarah! Now tell me all about the Barcloughs. Who was there?”

Sarah unexpectedly blushed. “Oh, you know, the Beau and some of his friends, and some rather insipid women, Caroline was right there! There was only one really interesting man—Tom Gately. Do you know of him?”

“The one who spent several years with savages some place in a desert?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Bedouins, in Egypt. We had a long talk and he told me some wildly fascinating stories of his adventures. I should so love to go to such a place!”

“No parties, no gowns, no plays or operas, no—” Jane said teasingly.

“Pooh! As if I cared for that! I’ve been bored to death with all that anytime these past three years, as you well know. Oh, Jane! I do believe I’ve found something that I want to do!”

“With or without Mr. Gately?”

Sarah dimpled demurely. “With, if things fall out as I plan.”

“Good Lord! You are serious!”

“Never more so in my life,” Sarah replied fervently, “but I shall go on my own if necessary!” She lifted her chin proudly, as though to face an anticipated rejection by Mr. Gately. She followed this extraordinary declaration by a long passionate monologue featuring burning sands, tents, solitude and silence, and the brilliance of the stars at night over the desert. She then stated that when she returned she would write a book about her travels and adventures.

“Ha! First you will have to learn to spell!” said a voice from the doorway. They spun about to find Jaspar regarding them quizzically, one eyebrow raised in sardonic amusement.

2
6

“Jaspar!” Sarah protested
indignantly, “I wish you will not creep about like that! We might have been having a very
private
conversation!”

“If you mean about Gately, I’ve already been informed about him from several sources, and so has Mama and I warn you she is prepared to have palpitations. ‘Gately?’ she says, ‘I’ve never heard of any Gatelys!’ However,
I’ve
no objections at all. I’ve met the fellow, and if you can bring him up to scratch send him along to me for my blessings.”

“
What
a vulgar expression,” Sarah replied loftily.

“There was posy and a note delivered after you left. I assume it was from him.”

“What? Oh—oh dear—well, I think, Jane darling, if you will forgive me, I’d best be getting home to Mama now. I don’t like leaving her alone too long,” she added virtuously.

“Right, you run along,” urged Jaspar encouraged, holding the door open invitingly, and barely concealing his impatience as she resumed her furs and took her leave of Jane.

Jane, completely tongue-tied by his unexpected appearance, picked up her workbox, and stared uncomprehendingly at her embroidery frame.

Jaspar closed the door after his sister and crossed the room to stand before her. After a long silence, while she sat mute, her eyes firmly lowered, he said, “I received your note.”

“Ah.”

“I was somewhat disconcerted by the tone of it.”

“The tone?”

“Somewhat—missish.”

“
I?
I am never missish!” she flared up indignantly.

“Well—formal then. However, I didn’t come here to quibble about that.”

“You came to quibble about something else?” she inquired politely.

“No, I came to boot old Quint out on his ear if I found him cluttering up your drawing room.”

“I don’t think he has heard that I’ve returned,” Jane admitted candidly before catching herself and adding starchily, “though I hardly think you have reason to feel yourself free to dispose of my visitors so cavalierly.”

“Only those dangling at your shoe strings.”

She drew herself up proudly. “Lord Montmorency, I realize that after what—what happened, you have reason to feel that I—I will naturally be willing to—to—but I will not be any man’s—”

“Wife?” he suggested helpfully.

“Wife?” she repeated in bewilderment. “No—I meant—”

“I know perfectly well what you meant, and if I were not in such a happy frame of mind I would probably be very insulted that you could entertain such a notion of me, even for a moment.”

“I apologize if I have mistaken your meaning. Since we seem to be talking at cross-purposes, perhaps you would be good enough to enlighten me as to the purpose of this visit.”

“There you go again,” he complained, “why do you keep taking that toplofty tone with me? I won’t stand for it any more!” And with that he pulled her abruptly out of the chair and into his arms. “Now—you
are
going to marry me aren’t you?”

She pulled back to search his eyes, unsure if she had heard aright He held her look, completely serious now. Finally she pushed away his arms and walked over to the table against the wall, staring with great concentration into the glass, pretending to be very busy rearranging a stray curl.

“I cannot marry you, Jaspar,” she said simply, trying to keep any suggestion of emotion at bay, “though I am honoured that you have asked me.”

“Why not?” he asked bluntly.

She dropped her eyes to the bowl of roses on the table and ran her fingers over the cool, velvety petals. “I am not at liberty to discuss my reasons.”

“Is it because of this?” he asked softly, his breath fluttering the loose curl by her ear. She looked up, startled, to find him just behind her, his arms coming around in the remembered embrace, a hand over each breast. She whirled about to face him.

“You
did
know—all along!” she gasped accusingly.

“Not all along,” he said, “not until I came to call the first time.”

“But why didn’t you ever say? I hoped—well, I convinced myself that you hadn’t recognized me.”

“How could I forget you after meeting you in such an enchanting and memorable way?” he teased.

“Even though I—uh—hurt you?”

“Even then—at least, after the pain subsided,” he grinned at her, “and by then you’d disappeared. Can you forgive a green, callow boy who hadn’t the courage to admit his part in the business?”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference. I was your mother’s maid, Jaspar. You could not have done anything honourable, your mother would not have allowed it. And after all, what could you have done? I would not have allowed it in any case.”

“Yes—I remember the coin flung back in my—face.” She giggled, then blushed, remembering the moment. “Good God!” he exclaimed, “Leach! That’s where he—”

“Yes, he—” she hesitated, and then decided she was not capable of reciting the revolting tale of Leach’s treatment of her all those years ago. Maybe someday she could face it, but now she could not bear to spoil this happy moment with such ugliness, “—he recognized me and wanted me to help attract customers to his establishment.” Never, she thought, never would she admit to anyone that he had made a proposal of marriage to her. It was too humiliating.

“Good Lord! What damned cheek! I beg your pardon, love, but one must curse when one speaks of such a bounder. I wish I
had
shot him!”

“After frightening Clinton in such a way, I’m afraid I must confess that I’m glad I did.”

“I still cannot understand his reason for abducting the child.”

“He knew I would come there and that he could persuade me to talk with him that way. Also, I had publicly insulted him the night I went there with Sarah and he wanted to punish me for it.”

“That is another matter I want to take up with you, my dear. Sarah has confessed everything, and I have visited your man of business and paid the four thousand pounds back into your account. We Montmorencys seem continually to be in your debt.”

“There was no need—and you exaggerate. What other debt was there but that one?”

“Ah, my generous love, have you forgotten I cost you your position the first time we met? All the times you have really needed me, I was not there—”

“How can you say so?” she cried. “Why, I might even now be in prison if you had not arrived and taken charge yesterday!”

“Nevertheless, I intend to make it my life’s work to make up to you for all that I haven’t done till now. I’ve loved you to distraction before, but since the afternoon in the field it is verging on madness! The only cure is marriage, so that I can have you forever. Do you love me?”

“How can you doubt it? Unless you think I am in the habit of pulling gentlemen down into the grass at every encounter,” she laughed.

“You still haven’t said it,” he insisted, pulling her breathlessly close.

“Jaspar! Yes, darling—yes, yes, I do love you so,” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck to pull his head down to her own. When their lips met she felt as though a flame was ignited, sending fire through every vein in her body.

They drew apart dazedly as the door was flung open to admit Clinton astride his hobby horse. “Mama! I—” He halted abruptly, owl-eyed at the unusual scene before him. After a moment he asked Jaspar, in a man-to-man tone of voice, “Is she crying again, sir? She cries a lot because she is a woman.”

Jane laughed shakily, “I’m not crying, darling.”

“Then why are your eyes all shiny?”

“I think it is because I’m so happy. You see I—we—Jas—Lord Mont—oh dear—” she stopped in confusion.

“What she’s trying to say,” Jaspar explained, “is that, with your approval, of course, your mama has agreed to be my wife.”

Clinton considered this statement solemnly for a moment, and then went right to the crucial heart of the matter. “Will you be my papa now?”

“Yes,” Jaspar replied simply.

Clinton jumped straight up into the air and then turned and galloped away on the hobby horse, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Hurrah! Hurrah! I’m to have a papa! Nurse, where are you? I’m to have a papa!”

Jane began to giggle, while Jaspar strode over to close the door. “I take it he approves. Now,” he pulled her back into his arms, “there was something I wanted to discuss with you—”

“Jaspar—darling—please wait a moment. We haven’t really thought of this enough. I mean—what of your mother? She will hardly welcome her former maid as a daughter-in-law.”

“I have no intentions of telling her before we are safely married. She’s been trying to get me married for years, and will welcome a young, wealthy widow, socially acceptable, with the cachet of the Payton name, and a proven breeder of sons. She’ll be ecstatic. Now—”

“But someone else may tell her—Wright, for instance.”

“Who the devil is Wright?”

“Your sister’s dresser, for goodness sake, she’s been there for years. How can you not—”

He brushed this aside. “Wright will do as Sarah tells her. Besides, Sarah will probably marry that young explorer fellow and go off to the wilds of Africa. She won’t need a dresser there.”

“It seems dishonest—” she protested doubtfully.

“Nonsense. You’re obsessed about honesty. You and I are the only people concerned and your past is fine with both of us. Now let’s forget all that and discuss the future. There’s something—BLAST!!”

This explosion was caused by the door opening again to admit Lady Stanier.

“Oh! Oh—I do beg your pardon—I just had to—well, Clinton is rushing about madly shouting the
most
incredible—”

“It is—incredibly—true,” Jaspar answered, not loosing his hold on Jane.

“Bless you, darlings—bless you,” Lady Stanier beamed at them and then disappeared, closing the door softly behind her.

Jaspar crossed, turned the key decisively, and came back. “Now,” he said in a no-nonsense voice, pulling her roughly into his arms.

“Yes, my darling, what
is
it you so urgently need to discuss with me?” she laughed, pressing as close to him as was humanly possible.

“It’s about a rose-pink negligee I want you to get for our wedding night—” he began.