The Jewelled Snuff Box (16 page)

He floundered unhappily, not wishing to embarrass her. She came to his rescue.

“I shall be obliged to find another post, of course. I should not dream of remaining with my friends for any length of time.”

“But won’t it be difficult?” he asked. “It is unlikely that Bordesley will give you a reference in the circumstances, I suppose.”

“I have others,” answered Jane with dignity.

“I am sure you have!” he said warmly. “And couched in the highest terms, I make no doubt! But if this unfortunate affair should leak out — and, in any case, Bordesley believes us to be engaged — or, at least, I think he does —”

“Engagements have been broken before now,” said Jane.

“You mean to tell him that we have put an end to it?”

“My affairs,” said Jane, a little stiffly, “are really no concern of my lord Bordesley. He may be my employer for the moment, but that does not give him the right to pry into my private life. However, if it should be necessary to say anything on this subject, I shall tell him that I see no possibility of any happiness resulting to either party from a continuance of the engagement.”

His eyes met hers as though he were seeing her for the first time.

“I believe, you know, Miss Tarrant, that some women in your situation would not so act,” he remarked, slowly.

“No? But surely it puts an end to the affair quite neatly? Or do you see a difficulty which has escaped my notice?”

He shook his head. “No. But it occurs to me that a woman such as Celia, in a like case, might turn this fictitious engagement to her advantage.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.

“Does it not offer a way of escape from a life which cannot but be tedious to you?”

She started, and looked uncertainly at him. He found that he could not meet her eyes, and fell to studying the pattern of the carpet.

“No doubt I am putting this very badly, Miss Tarrant, but bear with me. You have been used by Celia — I suppose I must take a share of the blame, too — in such a way that you will be put to a great deal of inconvenience, and may even find it difficult to obtain another post. Your future has been jeopardised, and I have had a hand — if unwillingly — in the doing of it. It touches my honour, and I therefore feel compelled to hold you to our so-called engagement.”

“What are you saying?” gasped Jane, turning quite pale.

He looked up, his eyes gentle.

“I am asking if you will do me the honour of marrying me.”

Jane pressed her hands to her bosom; she could feel the wild beating of her heart. Her mind was in a turmoil, and she was quite incapable of making any answer. He saw this, and watched her in silence for what seemed to Jane an infinity. At last, she grew calmer, and the mists cleared from before her eyes. She found her voice.

“Your motives do you credit, sir. I regret that I must decline.”

Surprise showed on his face.

“Will you not think it over? It is a solution of your present difficulties —”

“I have not been used,” said Jane, with trembling lips, “to think of marriage as a solution of my difficulties.”

His glance lingered on the tremulous mouth, on the small face framed by its bright hair. What dreams might not lie behind those soft grey eyes, he wondered? Dreams, perhaps, such as he had once known, before Celia had trampled them underfoot.

Was he violating this girl’s vision of love by suggesting a marriage of convenience to her? It was only too probable.

“Forgive me if I ask a blunt question,” he said; and the abruptness of his tone served as a cover to his feelings. “Is there — anyone else, Miss Tarrant?”

“No,” answered Jane, quickly. That at least was true.

“Then will you not consider my offer?” he countered, quickly. “Lord knows I would not readily counsel a marriage of convenience to any female; and you are young and attractive, if you will allow me to say so, and must have visualised a more romantic match. But the circumstances in this case are so difficult, and marriage such an obvious solution for us both —”

“I cannot marry without better reason than expediency,” said Jane, striving to give firmness to her tone.

He leaned forward in his chair until his face was only a short distance away from hers, fixing her with a steady regard from his dark eyes.

“You mean you will not marry without love?”

She nodded, trying to avoid his glance.

“There have, I believe, been instances of love coming after marriage: provided, of course, that the partners began on a note of mutual respect and esteem. I have a feeling for you, Miss Tarrant —” he paused, and took her hand, suddenly grown cold, into his — “already somewhat warmer than that — a feeling which would not take long, I dare swear, to blossom into —”

He broke off, and she felt the quick leaping of his pulse as it rested against her fingers. Her head seemed on fire, and her bosom rose and fell with her unsteady breathing.

What he read into her silence, she could not know; but suddenly he dropped her hand, and leapt to his feet.

“But of course,” he continued, bitterly, “you have no reason to hold me in the same esteem.”

It was as though a veil had been torn from before her eyes. No, she had no reason to esteem him, for was he not Celia’s lover, even while he was seeking her hand in marriage? Even though, added her heart, striving desperately to be fair, even though his reasons for asking her to marry him were of the most honourable. It was more than likely, she told herself bitterly, that he was saying all this as a salve to her pride; he considered that he was bound in honour to marry her, and sought to make her acceptance of him easier by pretending to more than he really felt.

With an effort, she forced herself to speak calmly.

“You mean all for the best, I know, and you must not think me ungrateful. But there are reasons which make such a solution of my difficulties distasteful to me. You must let me go my own way.”

He bowed.

“Very well, madam, if that is your wish. You are resolved, then, to tell Bordesley that the engagement is at an end?”

She rose as if to go, smoothing the folds of her dress to avoid meeting his eyes.

“If it should be necessary to speak of my affairs to his lordship, that is what I shall say.”

She walked towards the door in what she hoped was a resolute manner.

“I wish you good day, sir,” she said, with a curtsey. “I believe your sister is waiting for me.”

He returned her farewell absentmindedly, holding the door open until she had passed through into the hall, where Letty was waiting at the foot of the stairs,
When she had gone, he closed the door, and came back into the room to stand before the fire, lost in thoughts.

What had persuaded him to ask Jane Tarrant’s hand in marriage? Such a course had not entered his head when he had sought the interview. There was something about this girl, something that drew him on; and yet she was no charmer in the sense that Celia was. Could there be anything in that romantic nonsense that was sometimes talked of two people having met and loved in another incarnation?

He smiled: absurd. Yet he knew some regret that Jane Tarrant had not, after all, accepted him.

Chapter XVIII. Jane Receives Another Declaration

JANE STAYED with Letty only a few minutes. After one glance at her face, her friend did not press her to remain and meet Lady Carisbrooke. There was more here than she could understand, but this much she knew — both Jane Tarrant and her brother were unhappy. She attributed this in some way to Celia Bordesley as a matter of course, and, whatever other speculations she made, she did not tease Jane with them. She contented herself with expressing a wish that they might soon meet again, bade her dear Jane come to her if there was the least little thing she could do to help in any way, and saw her friend into the carriage.

Jane’s heart reproached her as she watched the dimpled little face, so serious now for the moment, recede into the distance. Perhaps the hardest thing of all was not to be able to take Letty into her confidence.

She did not have long to reflect on this, however, for she was soon arrived back in Grosvenor Square. The porter greeted her with a message to attend my lady instantly in her boudoir. Jane paused only to remove her bonnet before knocking upon Celia’s door.

“Oh thank heaven you are come!” exclaimed Celia, eagerly, drawing Jane into the room. “I feared that Francis might get his hooks into you before I had a chance to speak first with you!”

“I have not yet seen my lord,” answered Jane, taking in Celia’s flushed cheek and flustered air.

“Again I thank Heaven! Jane, I want to throw myself on your mercy!”

She uttered these words with all the fervour of one condemned to the stake. Jane looked upon her coldly.

“You had little enough mercy on me last night,” she returned.

Celia seized her arm, looking up at her from blue eyes dark with pleading; the distress on her lovely face would have moved a statue to compassion. Jane thought how beautiful she was, and how impossible it seemed that anyone, especially a man, could ever resist her. It was sad to reflect that one so lovely could be so false.

“You will not betray me, Jane? I will give you anything you ask — I have an ample allowance from Bordesley, and you shall not find me ungenerous — there is a set of rubies, Jane, which I bought myself, and have worn only once — you shall have them, you shall have anything you desire, if only you will promise to hold to the tale I told Francis last night! Richard I know I can depend upon, and you — you cannot have changed so much, Jane! You were ever one to help others out of scrapes! It is not so very difficult a thing to do, or distasteful, for there is no gainsaying the fact that Richard is a handsome man! And after a little time, you can say you have quarrelled, or make some other excuse for breaking the engagement off!”

The words spilled out one after another, tripping each other up in their haste; the graceful hands made gestures of supplication. Jane was seized by a feeling of revulsion.

“You think of everything, do you not? But I’ll put you out of your agony, Celia: I have no intention of betraying you. There is no need to bribe me.”

“Dearest Jane! I knew I might rely upon you!”

The supplication dropped away from her expression, and was replaced by a calculating look.

“But your answers must be convincing should Francis question you — and I think it only fair to warn you that he is almost certain to do so, and not a particularly easy person to gammon.”

She broke off, frowning.

“I cannot feel perfectly satisfied that he altogether believed me last night.”

Jane moved away from her, relieved that her pleading was at an end. It was obvious that there were no depths to which she would not sink to gain her own way.

“I — we — were talking of that matter earlier today,” Jane said, haltingly. “Sir Richard Carisbrooke and I, that is to say. He sent Letty here to fetch me to their house.”

Celia stared.

“So that is where you have been! I was afraid that you might have run away and left me to face it out alone. But what an odd thing for Richard to have done — although I suppose it is natural enough that you should meet to concoct some tale that will tally with mine. Yes, on second thoughts, it was very wise of Richard! He will, of course, feel obliged to wait on Francis with an apology for drawing me into the affair; and it is essential that his account should correspond with yours. What did he say to you?”

To Jane’s annoyance, she found herself blushing. Celia looked at her sharply.

“Why, what — but, of course, that is just what he would do! He was ever quixotic! I am right in thinking that he asked you to marry him?”

Jane’s heart sank as she heard Celia putting into words her own thoughts on Sir Richard’s motive for the proposal of marriage which he had made her. Once more she had to acknowledge that, against all reason, she bad hoped that partiality might have moved him as much as expediency.

There seemed no point in denying something which Celia would in all probability very soon learn from Sir Richard himself. She nodded in answer to the question.

“Upon my word!” said Celia, tartly. “This has all turned out very well for you, after all, Jane! You will have no need now of my rubies — Richard will buy you some of your own, and diamonds as well, no doubt! I dare swear you will find him all that is generous. You will have quite a handsome fortune, Jane — not to be compared with mine, of course, for the Bordesley’s are vastly rich — but still, a very elegant competence, especially for a penniless girl! And you will be my lady Carisbrooke — to be sure, Richard is only a baronet, but still, it is something. ’Pon rep, I think you should thank me for putting you in the way of such a splendid match!”

“You cannot suppose,” asked Jane, wonderingly, “that I mean to accept him?”

Celia’s lips parted in surprise, and she gazed at Jane as though the other had taken leave of her senses.

“Not mean to accept him? What folly is this?”

“You really imagine,” said Jane, with a scornful flash of her grey eyes, “that I would accept a man who offers for me because he feels compelled in honour to do so? You must have a pretty notion of my character!”

“Stuff!” replied Celia, contemptuously. “What has character to say to it, pray? Here you have the chance — and believe me, Jane, I doubt if you’ll ever get such a good one again — to put an end to this drudging life of yours, and make a match that half the debutantes of Town would envy you; and all you have the wit to do, is to refuse it! It may show character, you poor fool, but it shows precious little sense!”

Jane sighed. “It is impossible for us ever to see eye to eye on this subject. Celia.” she said wearily. “Let us drop it, I beg.”

“But do you not see what you are about?” asked Celia, incredulously. She found it impossible to grasp that anyone could be so blind to her own material advantage.

“You have told me before this that you do not find your way of life tedious,” she continued. “That may be true, though I for one cannot credit it; but only think how this marriage could change your circumstances! Do you suppose that anyone half as good a catch as Richard will ever come seeking you out? If you manage to lay hold of a curate or a tradesman, you may count yourself fortunate. And most likely you will never marry at all, but go on, becoming older and dowdier year by year, as you slave away at teaching those frightful brats: until in the end you are too old for the life, and must think yourself fortunate if you even have a roof over your head! What extraordinary reason can you have for such arrant folly?”

“I cannot face the prospect of a loveless marriage,” answered Jane, her face pale. “Better, I think, the evils which you picture so dramatically.”

“Love!” scoffed Celia. “Always this talk of love! Bah, it sickens me! Leave love to the menfolk, Jane; our business is to captivate, not to be captivated!”

“I must act as I feel right. I mean nothing to Sir Richard Carisbrooke. Tied to me for life, he might easily come to detest the very sight of me.”

Something in her tone caught Celia’s attention. She eyed Jane sharply.

“So that’s it!” she exclaimed, triumphantly. “He is the man for whom you nourish this secret passion that has been puzzling me for so long!”

Jane covered her face with her hands, but too late; already it had betrayed her.

“Well!” said Celia, in tones of surprise. “But how has all this come about, pray? For I am tolerably sure that you never met Richard until you came to this house. But stay!”

She paused, revolving in her mind Jane’s unaccountable behaviour in the Circulating Library on the occasion when they had met Sir Richard there. The girl had acted then as if she had suffered some shock. Could it be that she had previously met and fallen in love with him? It must be so, unlikely as it seemed.

“Where did you first meet Richard!” she asked, her tone sharp.

“It is no matter,” replied Jane.

“I see you do not mean to tell me! Perhaps he will be more forthcoming.”

“You are welcome to try, if it pleases you,” answered Jane, indifferently.

“Be sure I shall! I like not mysteries. But I must confess that I understand your refusal of his proposals even less than before I knew this.”

“Very likely,” said Jane, drily.

“If you love him, why not take your chance?”

“For reasons of which you know nothing!” cried Jane, goaded beyond endurance. “You are a stranger to any decent feeling, Celia Bordesley, and if you imagine that I mean to remain an hour longer under your roof, you are mistaken!”

Celia recoiled a step, amazed. This was a different Jane from the mild-mannered young woman who had borne her company for the last ten days.

“Since I have been here,” went on Jane, with biting emphasis, “I have watched you abuse your position with everyone. You are cruel and domineering with the servants, who cannot answer back; you have tried to taunt and humiliate me, knowing my situation places retaliation out of my power. You are unfaithful to a husband who shows you nothing but kindness; and you toy —” Jane’s voice trembled a little “ — with the affection of a man who, I am convinced, is essentially honourable.”

Celia’s glance sharpened at this; but she was still too thunderstruck for speech. Jane’s grey eyes flashed like steel as she hurled her final words of contempt.

“I hope that the marriage, which you have made purely for your advancement in the world, may continue to pay you the return you expected: for myself, I would rather have the dreary future you predict for me! At least I have my self-respect!”

With a twist of her light form, she turned and whisked from the room, before Celia could recover sufficiently to utter a word.

My lady remained standing where she was, a cruel smile twisting her red lips. It was all too plain that Jane Tarrant was jealous, believing Sir Richard to be in love with her, Celia. Well, let the little fool think so, if she chose! It was not Celia’s intention to enlighten her. If she did so, perhaps Jane might reconsider her refusal of the gentleman’s offer of marriage. This would not suit Celia’s book; she had no wish to see Jane’s advancement in the world, even though her companion must still be her inferior in rank and fortune. There were too many things that rankled from the long past: Jane’s popularity with the other pupils at Miss Leasowe’s Seminary, the interest which had attached to her there by reason of her having a dashing Naval officer as father. At that period of her life, Celia had been ever conscious of an inferiority to Jane, an inferiority which she attributed entirely to circumstance. Now at last she felt herself to hold the superior position, and she did not mean to relinquish her advantage.

Meanwhile Jane was enquiring of the servants where she might find the Earl. In the white heat of her anger, she meant to seek him out at once, and inform him that she intended to quit his service immediately. She must leave this house without delay — this hateful house where she had lost the tranquillity which it had taken her so long to attain after her father’s death. Nothing now could ever be quite the same, she told herself despairingly; but at least she could cut herself off from all the torture of future meetings with Sir Richard, of hearing his name spoken, and of being in the same house as his mistress.

She was informed that his lordship was risen, and could be found in the library. She turned her course that way, and, knocking briefly on the door, entered.

My lord was standing before the table, looking down at a large volume which lay open upon it. He looked up at Jane’s entrance, and raised his brows.

“Good morning, Miss Tarrant. I trust you slept well?”

“Indifferently, I thank you, my lord. There is something I must say to you, if you can spare me a moment.”

The green eyes flickered.

“By all means. Let us be seated.”

He waved his hand towards a chair.

“I prefer to stand, my lord. What I have to say will not take long. I wish to leave your service.”

He raised his quizzing glass, and surveyed deliberately, but not offensively, her flushed cheeks and eyes which flashed fire.

“You appear to be in some heat, Miss Tarrant,” he said, languidly. “A quarrel with Celia; perhaps? Do not regard it — it will pass.”

“I have reasons — pressing personal reasons — for wishing to be released immediately,” insisted Jane, compressing her lips.

“What has she said to you, my dear? Some piece of feminine malice, I doubt not. But you are too sensible to be driven away by such shifts. You know how I rely upon you.”