Lady Jane (7 page)

Then she heard a low, rippling masculine chuckle that caused her to leap around with a shriek. There, standing in the shadows of a doorway to another room, was the child.

“Oh, you naughty boy to come on me so sudden like! Nearly the death of me, you was, my heart jumped so!” she gasped.

He stared at her silently for a full minute, and she studied him nervously, wondering if he’d be angry at her trespass and report her to Lady Payton. He was a full head shorter than herself and seemed very slim, though she could see little of him in the deep gloom of that corner of the room, especially after looking out into the sunlight. His complexion seemed to glow a greeny-white out of the shadows, his eyes only two spots of glitter in dark hollows.

His silence unnerved her and she finally decided to take matters into her own hands. She bobbed a little curtsy and launched into an explanation of her presence. “I’m sure I beg your pardon for comin’ in like this, m’lord. ’Twere Wellington, you see, the silly creature. He
would
run away and I came to fetch him. I’m mindin’ him, see, for m’lady, she bein’ poorly. Anyway, I—I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

He sketched a brief bow in acknowledgment of her apology, but still didn’t speak. Uppity little devil, she thought, her temper flaring suddenly, and as quickly dying as she remembered he was an invalid. Besides, she admonished herself, I’ve to remember my position, and show I’ve some manners even if he hasn’t. She pulled herself up and smiled condescendingly down at him. “I’ll go along now, m’lord, if you’ll excuse me, and leave you to your games.” She raised her voice to call flutingly, “Wellington! Come along now.”

Wellington chose to ignore this invitation and another long, embarrassing moment of silence ensued. She clearly saw, in spite of the darkness where he stood, Lord Payton’s eyebrow quirk up derisively and felt angry colour warm her face. But before she could react further he snapped his fingers and Wellington appeared as if by magic from the deeper darkness of the room behind Lord Payton and trotted up to Jane. She swooped him up and turned to the door.

Then for the first time Lord Payton spoke, in a startlingly deep voice that caused her to turn quickly to see who was speaking.

“That was a telescope, an instrument for seeing things at a great distance. I take it you’ve never seen one before?”

She shook her head speechlessly. It
was
the boy speaking, she thought confusedly, for she could see his mouth moving and there was no one else there, but it was a disconcerting voice for a boy. Then he was moving slowly toward her, and as he came into the light from the doorway his face eerily transposed itself before her very eyes from a child’s to a man’s.

It was a harsh, strong face, the cheekbones jutting almost cruelly against the thin, taut skin, lines deeply etched into the forehead and from nose to mouth. His eyes glowed with a feverish brilliance from deep, shadowed hollows and his mouth was a grim line. However, it was not an unhandsome face, for all its evidence of suffering. The incongruity was in the size of the head, too large for the thin, childish neck and the slight, boy’s body.

Jane, brought up among servants trained never to betray feelings, was able to look him squarely in the eye with a blank, noncommittal stare. Her mind, however, was a chaotic jumble of flashing thoughts and emotions, few of which had to do with his appearance. Rather, she was rapidly running through her mind all that she had said to him under the illusion she was addressing a child, and whether he would be angry enough at her for so addressing him as to ask his mother to get rid of her. Had she—dear God,
had
she—called him a naughty boy when he first came to the doorway? Perhaps he hadn’t heard her. Nonsense, of course he must have. Should she apologise? No, better say nothin’ more.

Jane, in common with most of her fellow creatures, was more concerned with events as they affected herself than with the effect they might be having on the other person. It was not that she was unaware of his unusual appearance, but the few seconds allowed for her to readjust her ideas did not leave her any time to feel horror or pity, or any of the other emotions usually inspired by the abnormal.

Before she could resolve on the course of action most beneficial to herself, he had reached the telescope and was pointing out the door. “There, on that hillside to the left, can you see that cow, a sort of brown and white spot just past the very large tree?”

She nodded wordlessly. He swung the instrument around, peered through it, made an adjustment with a knob, and then moved back “Now, just bend down and look through there and you’ll see it as clearly as though it were standing just outside there on the grass,” he instructed her.

She did as she was told, gasped, raised her head to stare at the hillside unaided, and then went to the glass again. Finally she turned to him, her eyes wide.

“That’s—that’s magic, that is—and here’s me thinkin’ it were but a toy!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, I suppose you could say it’s a toy,” he replied bitterly.

She flushed with shame at what she’d revealed to him and dropped her eyes, but he shrugged and moved away. “This ‘toy’ is a globe. Do you know what that is?” She shook her head, unable to speak or look up. “Well, come and learn, girl, come and learn,” he ordered impatiently.

For the next fifteen minutes he explained the globe to her, and gradually she forgot her embarrassment as she became fascinated by this first glimpse of the world and began asking questions.

Wellington, patience at an end, wriggled to signal that he’d learned enough about the world and required to be put down, whereupon he ran straight out the door into the sunlight.

“Oh—Wellington—wait, wait! Sir, I must go after him—I—I thank you for tellin’ me about—Asia and—and all that.” She bobbed a quick curtsy, “Good day to you, m’lord,” she gasped and whisked out the door.

Wellington gave Jane another brisk run before he scampered back to the front door, ready for a nap on the chaise with his mistress.

Jane, even as she ran, was preoccupied with thoughts of Lord Payton. No longer was it possible to think of him as a child, for in spite of his small stature he was clearly a man, and not so very young a man at that. His emaciated face was lined like a man of—of forty! And those dark shadows like bruises beneath his eyes! What ever could the poor soul be suffering from to give him that look, to have kept the man in the body of a child?

Well, she thought resolutely, no doubt I’ll learn if I’m meant to. Meantime I’d best face m’lady and make me confession before she learns the story from ’im. In her heart, however, she knew very well he would not go complaining to his mother of her maid’s intrusion into his private domain. How she knew this she could not have said.

7

Jane came awake
very slowly, aware of and enjoying each degree of returning consciousness, especially the brief, final moment of hushed expectancy—then—yes, now! Her eyelids fluttered open just in the instant of the suns rim appearing over the distant hills, a moment of such happiness for her that her sleeping mind made sure she woke in time for it.

She threw back the covers and ran barefooted to the window, blinking sleepily. The vault of the sky, a tender, almost pearly green, slowly warmed to coral. The gray, dew-soaked predawn countryside waited in hushed expectancy, then blushed as rosily as a young maiden at her first compliment. The birds, as at a signal, began their chirping, which built steadily into an ecstatic greeting to another fine day.

Jane’s sleep-warm body shivered deliciously in the cool morning air as she leaned as far out the window as she could, fervently breathing in the scented freshness. Like food it is, this air, she thought Oh, Mam, if only you could have had some of this. She wondered, not for the first time since she’d been here, how her mother, brought up in the country, had been able to bear her life in London, with its smothering, fetid air and never a glimpse of a sunrise. I’ll never go back, she vowed, not if they’ll keep me. I’ll do anythin’—learn to cook and keep the house good, so when the old ones die, I can do everythin’ for m’lady, and she’ll never send me away. And I’ll listen carefully and learn to speak refined like and learn Quality ways so she won’t be ashamed of me. And I’ll make them old ’uns belowstairs like me, she decided fiercely, this very day. I won’t sit at supper with all them frozen faces another day.

Her earlier vow to make them come to her was losing its sharp edge under the strain of having no one to talk to. Of course Lady Payton spoke to her and was invariably kind, but Jane was still far too shy to let her tongue have its usual, carefree way. As for Lord Payton, the nearest person to her in age at Larkwoods, her chances of seeing him again were very small—and the Lord knows he ain’t exactly a chatterbox, she thought with a grin. Of course, he’d plenty to say about globes and such, but he might as well be talkin’ to hissel’, for all I could make of them long words, though, of course, it was good fun to listen to, and most polite of ’im to presume I’d know what he was goin’ on about.

For a moment, as she stood there in the morning sun, she wished she could have those moments to live through again, only this time she’d have her wits about her and really take in everything he said, and learn something. It was only since those few moments with Lord Payton that she’d become aware of the bottomless pit of her ignorance.

How must it feel to know so much as he does, she wondered enviously? Would one’s head feel heavy carryin’ about so much? She pondered at the possible size of his brain, which led her to the inevitable conclusion that her own must be no bigger than a pea. I wonder if he knows how lucky he is to have been given all that learnin’, she mused.

Then, with a shock, she remembered the man. Full grown, practically middle-aged, and no more than four feet tall, not to speak of bad health and a great deal of pain if those hollow, shadowed eyes were anythin’ to go by. Lucky was
not
how he’d feel, no fear, bless him. No, I don’t envy ’im, she thought, her hands automatically running down her strong, healthy body, but I don’t pity ’im either!

He’s had all this to look at, and all them books and that, and never had to work till he dropped, and for all his size he’s a man and never had to be knocked about and forced to have a great, hairy body on top of ’im, doin’ dreadful—

She felt a sob catch in her throat and her eyes filled suddenly with tears as the searing memory of Leach caught her before she could push it back, as she had so far been able to do. Oh God, don’t let me be carryin’ his seed inside of me!

There it was. The nightmarish fear she’d been holding at bay, rising now in a silent shriek to heaven. She sank slowly to her knees and resting her head on the window ledge, let the tears have their way at last, unchecked, crying out her fear in great wrenching sobs.

Below her Lord Payton was just passing on his usual early morning walk around the house. This was his only exercise, taken before the rest of the household was awake, and before any possibility of a chance encounter with unexpected callers. He paused at the sound of crying coming from somewhere above his head. He didn’t look up. There was no need to speculate on the source of the sound. It was a young girl crying, and there was only one young girl at Larkwoods. He walked softly away.

When Jane brought Lady Payton her morning chocolate, all traces of her early tears were erased and her usual sunny smile greeted Lady Payton. Wellington, his feathery tail waving ecstatically, jumped down from the foot of the bed to put his cold nose against her ankle in greeting, causing Jane to giggle.

What a blessing, thought Lady Payton, to be greeted by this cheerful, light-footed young creature first thing in the morning, rather than poor Mrs. Plummer, creaking painfully in with the tray trembling precariously in her rheumaticky clutch, her old creased face screwed up with the effort.

In spite of her son’s distaste for having any new servants in the house, Lady Payton had been forced to search for a young maid who could take the stairs. They’d tried the village girls from nearby, but though willing enough, they were clumsy and forever breaking china and spilling things, and worst of all, making the evil eye sign every time they caught a glimpse of Sebastian as though he were a devil. Then Lady Payton had written to her sister in London who’d sent down several girls, whey-faced and shifty-eyed every one of them, who’d pilfered the silver and complained about being so far from any company or entertainment, and sneaked around trying to catch a look at Sebastian as though he were a freak. None had lasted more than a month before she’d had to pack them off back to London.

Coombes, however, was a very different matter. Lady Stanier had written of the dreadful ordeal the poor child had been through, and Lady Payton could not prevent herself from eyeing the girl’s waistline every morning, even though she knew very well it was far too soon to show, even if the girl did turn out to be with child. Lady Payton prayed every night that this would not be so for the girls sake, though she had decided that if Coombes would stay she’d keep her, illegitimate baby and all. She thought fleetingly of holding the baby and then firmly pushed the thought away before it led to the depression that always washed over her when she was forced to acknowledge there would be no more babies at Larkwoods, no more for her, nor the possibility of fat little grandchildren to tumble about and be swooped up for kissing.

She forced herself to turn a smiling face to Coombes—bah! she thought—Coombes! “I can’t bear to call such a pretty child such a hard ungiving name as that. I’ve decided to call you Jane from now on. Such a pretty name. Will you allow me?” she said gaily.

“Oh—m’lady! I should be ever so glad. I don’t care for bein’ called Coombes, mesel’. So-so cold it sounds, all bare like that I’ve always thought. How happy you are this mornin’, m’lady. It must be the beautiful mornin’ as makes us all so lighthearted.”

“Are you lighthearted today, Jane?”

“Today and every blessed day since I come here. Who could be unhappy in such a place as this?”

“Some of us manage it, I fear,” said Lady Payton, her smile fading and her eyes clouding over.

“Ah now, m’lady, don’t think on it this mornin’. Here, I’ve brought you a serprize. Mrs. Plummer give me a letter for you.”

“A letter? Who—oh, it’s from Sebastian,” said Lady Payton, taking the note and eagerly breaking the seal.

Jane’s eyes widened in surprise. He wrote his mother
letters
, and him only on the other side of, the ’ouse, she thought wonderingly. How could a person ever understand the ways of Quality? Then suddenly her nerve ends all jumped as it occurred to her what he might be writing to Lady Payton
about
. Oh lor,
why
didn’t I tell her about goin’ into his room yesterday?

She had put off her confession, trying to gather nerve for the ordeal and trying to think of how best to explain the way of it. She had determined this morning that she’d make a clean breast of the whole thing today and
not
put the entire blame on Wellington as she’d had been inclined to do. Her hand went down to Wellington to pull his long, silky ears and scratch his soft head in apology.

“Oh! My goodness,” exclaimed Lady Payton, her voice fluttering excitedly, “my son will dine with me tonight. He must be feeling very much better. Oh, Jane, he has had such a bad turn these past few weeks. I’ve been quite frightened.”

“There now, and he’s all better and takin’ his dinner with you. We must look out your prettiest gown and see there’s no wrinkles in it.”

“Yes, the mauve silk, I think, and you must do my hair very specially—he always notices things like that. And you must make sure your cap and apron are fresh and—oh dear—child, there is something I must—” she faltered, a stricken look in her eyes.

“Oh, I’ll do that for sure, m’lady,” Jane interrupted hastily, well aware of Lady Payton’s sudden realization that she must prepare her new maid for the shock of her first look at Lord Payton. Jane was also clever enough to grasp this opportunity to make her confession under the very best conditions. Lady Payton would be so relieved that the worst part was past, she would not be so angry, or think Jane nosy and untrustworthy.

Jane explained the circumstances of her meeting with Lord Payton and of his kindness in explaining to her about the globe and the telescope. “I could see he’d not been well—such dark shadows round his eyes, just like me mam when she was ailin’ so bad and couldn’t sleep proper at night. But now he’s well enough to come to dinner! I had wondered about that, though I know ’tis no business of mine to be concernin’ mesel’ about such things. I thought he must be away havin’ treatments and such. Course, I’d heard from Lady Stanier as he was sickly. I even—” she stopped abruptly as she realized her tongue had been clacking away for a considerable length of time and that Lady Payton was smiling at her in a bemused sort of way. “I—beg pardon, m’lady. You must think I’m a great gawk. Sometimes I forget me place,” she said, hanging her head in shame.

“Not at all, my dear. It’s such a pleasure to hear someone talking without complaining for a change. All of us here seem to do such a lot of that. Mrs. McKirk because Sebastian and I eat so little of her good cooking, Mrs. Plummer because she can’t take the stairs anymore and about the new maids and—”

“Me? Mrs. Plummer complains about me?” Jane broke in rudely, her temper rising.

“Not you, Jane. But before you we had a number of unsatisfactory young women and the staff, eager to make it pleasant for them, went out of their way to be friendly. They found their efforts were wasted and have grown wary of repeating their mistake.”

“They shall be singin’ my praises before long, m’lady,” said Jane impulsively with a grin.

“They will?”

“Oh yes, I’ve decided on it,” Jane replied firmly. “I can see they ’er good folks, really, even though they’re so cold and unfriendly like, and when they see I’m not like all those others they’ll treat me different.”

“You truly think you will want to stay here, Jane?”

“You’ll have to have me dragged away, kickin’ and screamin’, if you’ll be rid of me, m’lady,” Jane said simply. “Now, it’s time you were up and out into that good sunshine. Wellington wants his walk and it’ll do you good,” she ordered bossily, removing the chocolate cup from her mistress’s hand, and throwing back the covers.

Lady Payton meekly swung her feet to the floor and rose.

By the dinner hour they had both reached a fever pitch of excitement; Jane at the thought of serving dinner to this mysterious man who would undoubtedly be watching her every move with a coldly critical eye, and Lady Payton with the joyful anticipation of seeing this beloved son across the table from her, still alive!

When Jane had finished dressing Lady Payton and seen her off down the stairs to the drawing room, she hurried up to her own room, where she’d laid out a freshly ironed cap and apron. She washed her face and hands carefully, then brushed out her long brown hair and coiled it into a smooth knot on top of her head before donning the cap which covered her hair completely. The stiffly starched ruffle framed her face like flower petals and was monstrously becoming, but for some reason she eyed it with dissatisfaction. She tweaked forward some shorter strands to feather softly around her face. Better, she thought, smiling impishly at her reflection. She tied her apron strings in front into a perky bow and twitched it around to the back, blew out her candle, and rushed down the’ back stairs to the kitchen.

Sebastian watched covertly as the girl moved slowly around the table with a plate of soup for Lady Payton, her eyes riveted to the plate in her hands, the pink tip of her tongue showing her earnestness. She carefully placed the soup in front of her mistress and straightened up, flashing him an irrepressibly triumphant smile as she met his glance, before she caught herself and lowered her eyes demurely and turned away busily to the sideboard to fetch his serving.

As she bent to place the soup before him he stared frankly at the round rosy cheek with the wisp of dark curl against it, and was aware of the fresh, sunshiny scent of her. It was all he could do to keep from reaching a finger to touch the smoothness of that cheek, and the impulse startled him. The only woman he’d ever touched had been his mother, and that was many, many years ago. He remembered the sound of this girl crying in the early dawn and wondered what could possibly cause such a merry-looking creature so much sorrow. When she went away to fetch the next remove he felt himself impatient for her return.