The Heart's Companion (13 page)

"O-o-h-h!" keened a low-voiced wail.

Jane was seated before the mirror brushing her hair. She turned her head, her eyebrows raised in patient, amused inquiry, to look at Mrs. O'Rourke.

The woman had dragged the rocker into the warm morning sunlight that spilled into the room, savoring the sun’s warmth and the lulling motion of rocking. "I ken feel it in me pur joints," she moaned. "There is wickedness afoot, there is."

"The only wickedness lies in the port you consume," drawled Jane. "That’s gout you’re feeling," she continued unsympathetically, coiling her hair into a high coronet on top of her head.

"Nay lass, it’s mortal danger yur in. I have the cursed sight, and well ye know it."

"What I know is that you have been worse than useless to me this morning. No doubt our guests are already at breakfast. What a poor hostess that makes me! Besides, I’m famished!" She shoved the last of the pins into place, then turned her head from side to side to evaluate her own handiwork. She preferred the side curls Mrs. O'Rourke typically coaxed from her hair, but the simple style she’d achieved would serve. She rose from the dressing table.

"Be warned! The clouds of darkness are gathering!" intoned Mrs. O'Rourke, increasing her rocking speed.

Jane glanced out at the bright, sunlit, cloudless sky and shook her head. "Ask Lady Elsbeth for something to ease the pain. And please, stay away from the bottle," she said kindly before leaving the room.

"Trust in the Lord!" were the last words she heard. Jane shook her head ruefully, hoping Mrs. O'Rourke's foolishness was not a harbinger for the day.

Youthful screams and the trampling of running feet greeted Jane as she opened the heavy oak door leading out of her bedroom wing. Careening wildly around a corner came Edward, screaming and laughing. Behind him chased Bertram, threatening to collar him. He was followed by a harassed and frightened Becky.

Jane grabbed Edward’s shoulder as he approached her and spun him about. "What is this all about?" she demanded as Bertram skittered to a halt beside them.

Bertram swiped at Edward, who ducked. His blow caught Jane on the forearm. "Sorry, Aunt Jane," he said as he made another swipe at his brother.

Jane caught his arm. "I will not have this kind of nonsense. What is going on between you two?"

"Oh, miss," gasped Becky, her sides heaving from chasing the two boys. She gulped air. "Edward’s gone and touched Master Bertram’s butterfly collection."

"I see. Has he harmed it?"

Bertram pouted and scuffed his feet. "He could have. And he was told never to touch it. He breaks everything."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Boys, boys! That is enough. Wasn’t Miss Twinkleham supposed to monitor your lessons this morning?"

"She’s sick," Edward blurted. He glared at his brother. "Just because you’re older, doesn’t mean you can punish me, either. That’s for adults to say," he shouted belligerently, pushing at his brother’s arm.

"Edward, I said, that’s enough," Jane repeated.

"What is all this noise?" complained Lady Serena, coming down the stairs. She held her fingertips to her temples. "Already it is giving me a headache. How can I coax my poor Millicent to come downstairs to lie on the chaise if all this noise persists?" She waved her hands in the direction of the boys. "They belong upstairs in the schoolroom, not running about like wild animals among polite company."

Jane put her arms around the boys’ shoulders. "They are merely displaying youthful exuberance," Jane defended, drawing them closer. "They are at loose ends this morning because their nurse has taken ill."

"What concern is that of mine? Surely there are others who can care for them. Your concern should be with your guests. Really, Jane, you are not being at all practical." Lady Serena swept past them, her disgust and censure evident in every line of her body.

Jane glared at her retreating back and shook her head. She bent down to talk with the boys quietly. "This is not a good day for Nurse to be sick. Why don’t you ask Cook for a special treat, then go outside for awhile."

"Can we go up to the Folly?" asked Bertram.

"If Becky goes with you. And this time, there will be no running off alone, or climbing trees." She patted them on the shoulders and pushed them in the direction of the kitchen.

Sir Helmsdon met her as she was about to enter the breakfast parlor.

"A word with you, Miss Grantley?" he asked. "In private."

Jane raised an eyebrow but agreed, leading him into the library. Her stomach rumbled in protest. She hoped he did not hear it. Normally she never ate much in the mornings, but the previous day’s activities had robbed her of an appetite when they sat down to dinner. This morning she was inelegantly reminded of that circumstance. She took a seat in one of the chairs before the fireplace and invited him to sit opposite.

Sir Helmsdon flipped the tails of his morning coat up and sat on the edge of the seat, one leg stretched out before the other. "Miss Grantley, will you marry me?" he asked without preamble.

Jane blinked, then rallied. "We have been through this before. No, Sir Helmsdon, I will not."

He thrust out his lower lip and nodded a few times as if what she’d said was a matter to be deeply pondered. He placed a hand on his knee, elbow out, and leaned forward. "I had not thought you would—especially after I observed the state of affairs between you and Lord Royce. But a man’s hope, as it should, dies hard. I should like to remain a friend. There are few women of my acquaintance that have your understanding. Ours is, therefore, an acquaintance I cherish."

A faint blush warmed Jane’s face. What did he mean about Lord Royce? Worse, why was the mere mention of Royce’s name capable of reducing her to youthful blushes? "I would like that," she managed stiffly. "And I’m, I’m sorry I ever harbored the conviction that you were unscrupulous enough to want to kidnap me. That was unfair of me."

He shrugged, a wry little smile turning up the corners of his lips. "My circumstances are well known. They are not pretty. Others before me have employed that means. How were you to know I wouldn’t?"

Distracted, she placed her hands primly in her lap and stared off at nothing. She sighed. "As I stated yesterday, I have discovered that I too often listen to society’s tales and not to my own observations. It is a fault I am trying to remedy."

He sat back a little in his chair, a concerned look hardening his features. "Miss Grantley, it is admirable, but also foolhardy, to dismiss what one hears," he said harshly, drawing her attention back to him. "I wish you would listen to me and heed my words concerning the Willoughbys and your aunt. They are planning mischief."

"No, sir. You do not know that. I will not listen," she said decisively, gathering her wits. She stood up, sending Sir Helmsdon surging to his feet as she did.

"Please, Miss Grantley—"

"No, sir, though I do appreciate your sincerity."

He shrugged, his hands falling limply by his sides. "All right. That is a noble attitude. I pray you do not live to regret it."

A faint wisp of icy dread swept over Jane. She blinked and shivered slightly, then her spine stiffened in resentment. She would not be a party to idle, ruinous gossip!

"I’ll be leaving this afternoon," he continued, unaware of her reaction. "I thank you and Lady Elsbeth for your hospitality."

She relaxed, bestowing that springtime smile on him that few gentlemen ever saw. Then her stomach gurgled, louder than before. Her eyes widened in shock, her hand rising reflexively to her stomach.

Sir Helmsdon laughed. "I see I am de trop. Come, Miss Grantley, let me not keep you any longer from your breakfast." In the hall Jeremy came to her side, impatiently waiting for her to part company with; Sir Helmsdon.

"Miss Jane, Lord and Lady Willoughby and Lady Tipton are at breakfast. Miss, I must tell you—"

"Not again, Jeremy!" Jane interrupted, weary disgust in her voice. "I’ve warned you repeatedly against eavesdropping. I will not listen to anything you say, and so I shall warn Lady Elsbeth. Perhaps without a suitable audience you will desist. "

"But Miss Jane!" he fairly wailed.

"No! Oh! I shall be glad when Nagel returns to his duties," she said dramatically, utilizing heartfelt accents.

The young footman drew back a moment, then compressed his thin lips. "I don’t care what you do, Miss. I will tell you—"

"Jane! Jane!" called Lady Elsbeth from the top of the stairs. "We have another invalid. Nurse Twinkleham is sick."

"Yes, I know, the boys told me."

"Earlier I prepared a basket to take to the parsonage; Mrs. Chitterdean sent round word that Reverend Chitterdean has also succumbed, but he can wait a bit, I only trust he does not lose his voice! Right now I believe Nurse Twinkleham’s need is greater. The basket is in the stillroom. Would you send someone for it, please? And my herbal journal? It’s in my chamber. Oh, and please extend my apologies to our guests." Lady Elsbeth came halfway down the stairs as Jane sent Jeremy off with a quick wave of her hand.

"Mrs. O'Rourke is suffering the gout again," she told her aunt when they no longer needed to shout.

Lady Elsbeth sighed. "If Nagel were well we could trust him to keep the servants out of the wine cellar. I’ll see to her later. It will not harm her to suffer a bit. In the meantime, I’ll direct my woman to answer your bell."

"Thank you. Oh, and I almost forgot. Serena claims Millicent continues to be laid low."

"I know. Tell her I shall look in on her presently."

Jane laughed in sympathy. "I dare swear a London physician is not as busy as you."

"But at least they are paid!" she answered with a tired laugh. Jane gently reminded her that she’d warned her against being at everyone’s beck and call. Then she relented and told her aunt to rest after she'd finished dispensing her healing herbs; she would see to their guests. Her stomach growled again.

Lady Elsbeth laughed. "But who shall see to you?" she asked as she turned to go back up the stairs.

After Jane found her aunt’s herb journal she gave it to a housemaid to take to Lady Elsbeth, then she started purposefully toward the breakfast parlor. Her stomach grumbles were turning to pangs. Mr. Burry met her in the hall.

"Ah, there you are Miss Grantley. A moment please."

Jane sighed, and stopped, turning to Mr. Burry with exaggerated attentiveness.

"This is deuced awkward to say, but might I trouble you to change my room? It faces east you see, and gets bright morning sunlight streaming in the smallest crack. It wakes me before times, which just does not sit well with my constitution." He leaned forward, confidentially. "Makes me bilious if I don’t get enough sleep." He rolled back on his heels, nodding.

"I think we can accommodate you, Mr. Burry. Sir Helmsdon informs me that he will be leaving today. I believe his room to be on the west side. Would that suit you?"

"Oh, indeed, Miss Grantley. Yes indeed. You are too kind. Sorry to hear Helmsdon’s off. Nice chap. No hope with Royce about, though, Seen that in a thrice. Better if it were the Willoughbys leaving, though," he said with a sad shake of his head.

It was on Jane’s tongue to ask him why, but she refrained. She would not listen to idle gossip and speculation! The habit of years was not changed easily, but she would persevere. Besides, she did not think she was ready to hear explanations for all the veiled comments she’d received regarding the earl. Not because she feared the gossips were right—more out of fear they were wrong. She thought it better to go on not knowing than to risk disappointment.

With slow steps, Jane followed Mr. Burry into the breakfast parlor. She was disappointed to see all of her favorite muffins gone from the breakfast board. With a resigned sigh she filled her plate and poured herself a cup of coffee. She shook herself out of her reverie and sat in a chair near the Willoughbys, who were just finishing. Though she refused to listen to the speculation of others, she decided she would attempt to learn for herself what so disquieted Mr. Burry and Sir Helmsdon. It should make for an amusing game.

She took a sip of tepid coffee and grimaced.

"I’m sorry I cannot offer you any entertainment today," she told the Willoughbys.

"Quite all right, quite all right Miss—Grantley," said Lord Willoughby.

The slight hesitation before her last name caught Jane’s attention, as it must have Lady Willoughby, for her brow rose and she threw her husband a sidelong glance.

"Lady Willoughby and I will take a carriage ride today. See a bit of the countryside. Very different from our own, you know," he continued with a barking laugh.

"Well, actually I don’t know," she answered apologetically. "I’ve never been in that part of the country. What is it like?"

"What’s it like? Oh, hilly and empty. Lots of windswept moors, gray rock, that sort of thing." He turned to his wife. "Are you quite finished, my dear? Then I expect we’d best be off. We’ll talk more this evening, Miss Grantley, eh, what? Come dear," he said, pushing back his chair and rising quickly. As he stepped back against the table to allow his wife to pass first, his arm swung backwards. It caught the lip of Jane’s cup.