Lady Jane (6 page)

During all these ponderings, the passengers had returned and the coach was under way again. She began to think that the journey might never end. She rested her head wearily against the side of the coach, and in spite of her resolve to miss nothing of this journey, dozed.

She came awake with a start as the door was suddenly flung open, to realize they had arrived at yet another inn, and all the passengers were stirring about, ready to step down.

“Where are we now?” she asked, looking about in a daze.

“Were at Maidstone, Miss Coombes,” replied the stout young man.

“Good heavens, so soon?”

“It only seems so because you slept so soundly.”

“If you don’t mind having this conversation elsewhere, young man, the rest of us would be glad to be able to get down now,” snapped the elderly lady waspishly.

Muttering a confused apology, he hastily climbed down and turned to offer Jane his hand in assistance. She took it gratefully, for she still felt half-asleep.

“Are you being met, Miss Coombes?”

“In the mornin’. A room has been bespoke for me here,” she said proudly, “so I’ll bid you good-bye now, and thank you for all your kindness on the journey.”

He lifted his hat and bowed politely, and she turned and made her way into the inn, much gratified by having everyone see him behaving to her in so courteous a way, as though she were Quality.

She was taken up to her room, and though it was very small, she was enchanted with it. It was the first time in her life she’d ever had a room—a whole room!—entirely to herself. She bolted the door to make it more definitely
hers
. The landlady had told her that her supper would be sent up to her on a tray as had been ordered, and Jane marvelled that so much care was being taken of her by strangers. Lady Stanier’s sister was surely the same good soul as Lady Stanier. There needed no further proof that Jane would be happy at Larkwoods with Lady Payton and her little son and the three kindly old family retainers.

The old family retainer who called for her in the morning, however, could hardly have been described as kindly. He had not descended from his perch to help her into the carriage, nor acknowledged her cheerful greeting with more than a grunt.

Jane subsided onto the seat and placed her box beside her. Well, she thought, I’m sure it makes no difference to me if he wants to be grumpy. Maybe he disliked being sent all this way to fetch a maid. But then Lady Stanier said she’d sent down several girls to her sister, so I should think he’d be used to it by now. Still, I won’t pay any attention. Nothin’ will be bad now, on such a day as this! She looked about with satisfaction at the rolling Kentish countryside. I shall certainly live happily ever after in such a place as this, she thought, her heart swelling with gratitude.

6

The house, when
it finally burst upon her view, caused her to gasp. The curving road after they’d entered the imposing gates, was tree-lined, but did not totally obscure the view of low rolling countryside, with artfully composed copses scattered about. There were several deer grazing quietly at one point, and later a herd of sheep. The road swept around a curve and there was the house! A palace, she thought at first, so large it seemed.

The huge three-storied main body of the house was further enlarged by two wings going back at each side. The stones of the facade were a warm honey colour in the sunshine, and the twinkling panes of glass in the windows seemed to smile a welcome.

No such welcome met her, however, when the carriage pulled up at a door at the end of one of the wings, and the taciturn coachman pointed wordlessly at the door, indicating her direction. She climbed down and reached for her box. The coachman drove off and she was alone. She straightened her shoulders and knocked firmly on the door. After a moment it opened to reveal a portly, red-cheeked old woman with white hair peeping from beneath her cap.

“You’ll be Coombes, then?” she said abruptly.

“Yes, that’s right, Jane Coombes, sent by Lady Stanier in Lunnon,” Jane replied with an open, almost coaxing, smile.

But the woman seemed immune to charm. She stepped back and made a small, economical motion with her head to indicate that Jane should enter. She closed the door carefully, and moved past Jane to waddle ponderously up the hall. There was nothing for Jane to do but follow.

After knocking softly on a door, the woman opened it and announced, “Here’s the girl, Mrs. Plummer.”

She turned and motioned Jane to enter and came in after her. Jane was confronted with another elderly lady seated before a fire mending linen. The woman finished setting a very small careful stitch before looking Jane up and down with her faded blue eyes. There was no hostility in her glance, but there was a certain guardedness in her expression, as though determined to give nothing away.

Jane came forward and bobbed her a polite curtsy, and again smiled. “You’re Mrs. Plummer? I’m Jane Coombes. You’ll be the housekeeper?”

“Yes. And this is Mrs. McKirk, the cook. She’ll show you to your room. It’s just down the hall. We’re all in this wing. Are you hungry?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am, very peckish, ’deed. Must be all the fresh air in these parts, but it seems hours since me breakfast.”

“Very well. Mrs. McKirk will give you something and then you can go to your room and change before I take you to m’lady.”

“Change? What should I change to, ma’am?”

“I’ve put out a gown and apron in your room from the last girl we had. You’re of a size, I think, so it should fit you.”

Mrs. Plummer turned back to her torn bed sheet dismissively, and Jane turned as she heard Mrs. McKirk opening the door. What was the matter with these folks, anyway, she wondered? They acted for all the world as though they grudged her a few words, not to speak of a smile or a friendly look. If I’m to be takin’ all the work off their backs, seems like they should show a little more friendly than this, she thought resentfully.

But she couldn’t quarrel with the generosity of the portion of cold sliced ham and bread and butter Mrs. McKirk set before her. Evidently they didn’t begrudge food, so she wouldn’t starve at any rate.

The room she was taken to when she’d polished off every last crumb of her meal was not in any way like the room she’d shared at the Montmorency’s. It was fair-sized and had a large window through which the afternoon sun streamed cheerfully. The bed, when she bounced on it experimentally, promised comfort and the linen was clean.

She hung her gown and pelisse on pegs behind a curtain in the corner and put on the dark blue gown. It was somewhat tight across the bosom, but otherwise fit fairly well. There was a white cap and apron and when she had the costume on, she returned to the kitchen to await Mrs. Plummer’s summons.

She heard a bell tinkle presently from the hall outside the kitchen and jumped up nervously, smoothing down her apron and checking her cap. This would be m’lady, no doubt. Will I suit? Will she be as kind as her sister?

She heard Mrs. Plummer’s steps in the hallway and went eagerly to the door. When Mrs. Plummer saw her she motioned Jane to follow and turned to go up the hall to the front of the house.

But before they reached the doorway that obviously led to the front, Mrs. Plummer turned aside and went up the backstairs.

Above stairs, the broad, carpeted hallway was dim and silent, lined with closed doors. Jane half-expected to hear the sound of the little boy laughing, or even crying, but it was as still and hushed as a cathedral.

Lady Payton’s apartment was at the very front of the house overlooking the drive. When they were bid to enter, Jane gaped at the elegance of the room before her, all furnished in white and gold and blue silk Lady Payton lay on a chaise before the deep windows with a book in her hand, and as she looked up inquiringly, a small honey-coloured bundle of fur that had been nestled beside her erupted from the chaise and leaped down, barking ferociously.

Jane backed away in terror, but Mrs. Plummer only reached down, lifted the dog in her arms, and put her hand around its muzzle. “Here’s the young person, m’lady.”

“Oh yes, Jane Coombes. Welcome to Larkwoods, child.”

“Oh—thank you, m’lady,” Jane said, giving her a deep curtsy and a large grin in return for the kindest words she’d heard since she’d arrived.

Lady Payton smiled back warmly, though her heart sank when she saw how pretty the girl was. This one won’t last even as long as the others, she thought, with no young men around to flirt with. Such a girl would be used to a lot of attention.

“I’m afraid you’ll find us very dull here after London,” she said, resignation tinging her voice, for it would be nice, she thought, to have this pretty child to liven up the household.

“Oh, not to worry, m’lady, I shall find plenty to do. This is a very big house to have the cleanin’ of, and then I can help with the poor little boy.”

Lady Payton stared at her speechlessly for a moment, trying to cope with her bewilderment. She turned to Mrs. Plummer, but saw immediately that there was no enlightenment to be had from that quarter, for Mrs. Plummer looked as totally befuddled as Lady Payton felt “Coombes, I’m afraid dear Caroline did not explain to you your duties. You will not be required to clean. We have women come in every day from the village for that. What you will be doing is taking care of me.”

“Oh, m’lady!” Jane gasped, “do you mean I’m to be your abigail?”

“Well, yes, though of course I go about very little, so I’m afraid it will be more in the nature of waiting on me.”

Jane could only stare at her, eyes like saucers, speechless with happiness at this unexpected rise in status that was being handed to her. From backstairs maid to lady’s maid in one step! Why, she’d be almost on a par with the housekeeper in the servants’ hall. If only her mam were alive to know this glory.

The glow of self-importance combined with the determination to justify Lady Payton’s trust in her, filled her mind to the exclusion of all else for the first few days. She was awake every morning long before it was necessary, and waiting in the kitchen for Lady Payton to ring for her morning chocolate. After that she helped her into a morning robe, brushed her hair and helped arrange it, and cleaned the room. Later she carried up m’lady’s breakfast tray, for Lady Payton never left her room in the mornings. On some days, when she was not feeling well, for she suffered from heart spasms, she kept to her room all day. But when she felt well enough, she dressed and came down in the early afternoon to read, or play the pianoforte, or receive a visit from a friend who lived nearby, and seemed to be her only caller, Miss Angela Gilbert, daughter of the parson.

In the late afternoon Lady Payton went to her room to change for dinner, which she ate in solitary splendour, attended by Jane. Jane supposed the invalid son to be either away or too ill to leave his room. She could not bring herself to ask, for at any mention of him Lady Payton’s eyes would become sad, and sometimes she would whisper “Poor Sebastian,” in such heartrending tones that Jane would feel the tears start in her own eyes.

Neither did she feel that she could ask Mrs. Plummer or Mrs. McKirk. They were still as unbending and cool to her as they had been on her first day, and Jane was too proud to push her friendship on them. She had tried to be nice, now they must come to her, she thought defiantly. It may be they’re jealous that I’m young and strong and close to the mistress all the time. Well, let them be, they’ll not have the satisfaction of seem they bother me! She was not, however, rude or pert to them, feeling that such behaviour was not consummate with her new dignity. She maintained a cool courtesy at all times.

When Lady Payton retired for the night, Jane helped her to undress, brushed out her hair again, and helped her into bed. Then she took away the gown to dean and iron it, and the delicate undergarments to wash by hand.

Another duty that she took upon herself was to walk Lady Payton’s spaniel. She had never been near a dog before in her life, but she found that she liked to play with it and fondle its soft, silky coat.

Lady Payton, accompanied by Jane, sometimes took the dog out herself when she felt equal to a walk and if the weather was good, but mostly it fell to Jane to do so. And Wellington, the spaniel, clearly preferred Jane’s company, for she ran with him over the smooth green grass, or threw sticks for him.

This was her solitary chore today, and she romped over the grass with him breathlessly, both of them infected by the gaiety of the spring day. The wind playfully tossed the new young leaves on the trees and flirted with the crocuses and daffodils in the flower beds, as though trying to say, “Come on then, look alive—it’s spring!”

It certainly said that to Jane, who was so filled with restless exuberance she couldn’t stand still for a moment, and Wellington obviously felt something, for he galloped around her in circles, ears streaming straight back, positively grinning with happiness. Suddenly he veered out of his circle and went tearing off around the far corner of the house, tossing her a look of mischief over his shoulder before he disappeared, in a clear invitation to catch him if she could. She giggled delightedly and ran after him, only to stop short at the corner.

There, stretched before her, was the entire wing of the house heretofore unglimpsed. Lord Payton’s rooms—forbidden territory. Gasping for breath after her wild exercise, she peered around the corner in time to see Wellington skitter out of sight beneath a trellised arbor of vines built out over what must be an entryway. The vines were still in very young leaf and sparse enough to allow her to see they covered a flagstone terrace, two shallow steps, and the darkness of an open doorway.

She stood debating furiously with herself. Should she just go and have a casual peek? Busy and happy in her new duties as she had been this first week, she had not given the little boy more than a passing thought from time to time, mostly just before she fell asleep at night. It had somehow become fixed in her mind that the child must be away from home, perhaps being treated somewhere, for it didn’t seem possible he could be there and never be allowed to visit his mother in her room or come into the rest of the house, unless, of course, he were completely bedridden, in which case his mother would spend most of her time with him, which she did not. Therefore it must be true the boy was away from home. Therefore—there could be no harm in just taking a peek, the very tiniest peek, into that temptingly open doorway beneath the arbor.

She advanced slowly toward it, calling, “Wellington! Bad dog, come back ’ere!”

She saw his honey-coloured head nose out of the doorway in response and then immediately disappear again, so obviously playing a game with her that she laughed aloud and lost all her nervousness. She walked boldly up to the doorway and peered inside. After the bright sunlight the room seemed very dark and she could see little at first The first thing to take shape before her eyes was a very large round object in a sort of ornately carved cradle and she was drawn to it without any conscious volition of her own. She stared at it, a blue ball covered with strange shapes in various colours, and reached out a fingertip to touch it tentatively. It moved, causing her to snatch back her finger, but then curiosity overcame caution and she pushed at it lightly. It turned slowly, revealing other odd shapes on its surface. A toy or game of some sort for young master, she thought wonderingly, and pushed it again, harder. It spun around and she giggled softly, before turning away to see what other strange amusements were provided for the children of the rich. She clucked disapprovingly at the wild disarray of papers and books strewn over a long table; not much fun there, she thought pityingly. Cruel, really, to plague the poor sick little fellow with lessons.

The room was thickly carpeted, the furniture covered in dark red, the walls paneled between shelves of books, everything dark and still, but with a strange air of expectancy, as though only momentarily empty of life. Her eyes were drawn back to the door, a French double door standing full open to the bright day without, framing an enchanting view of velvety grass, rosebeds beyond, and further away the low rolling hills.

Just to one side of the doorway was a strange long black pole atop three legs—another toy, she supposed. She walked around it curiously, stopping to look into the end pointed out the door, but there was nothing to be made of it—a bit of glass and darkness inside. She moved to the other end and applied her eye—and jumped back in alarm when she saw a life-sized, moving, picture of the old coachman who’d fetched her from Maidstone busily staking rosebushes. With infinite caution she peeked in again, and sure enough, he was there plain as day! She stood up and stared at the contraption with awe.