The Proud Viscount (17 page)

“Thank you.” Jane ran past the startled butler and sped down the stairs, clasping the letter tightly in her hand. The study door was open and she could see her father poring over an old volume spread on his desk. Thrusting her head around the door, she asked, “May I come in?”

“Certainly, my dear, certainly. What’s that you’re waving about?” He frowned as he recognized the handwriting. “Has Nancy distressed you with something she wrote?”

Jane held a hand up to beg for attention. “Just listen to this, Papa. I know you think Nancy is imagining things, but you have to hear what she’s written. And remember that she wrote it to me, not to you.” With trembling fingers she straightened out the single sheet of paper and began to read.

‘My dearest Jane, You’ve been on my mind a great deal this last day or two. All my life you’ve done so many things for me that I might hesitate asking yet another, except that you are so good and this is so important. It has to do with William. I have been thinking that if I am unable to care for him...

Jane’s voice caught and she looked up into her father’s eyes. “Do you understand that she believes that either she’s crazy or that she’ll be dead? 'I have been thinking that if I am unable to care for him I would want you to be the one to do it. He’s a very good baby and would give you very little trouble, though I realize it would change your life considerably. The nursemaid Sarah would surely be willing to come to you and she’s an exceptionally capable girl.’"

The strength of her emotion made Jane pause again. “Well, I won’t read you the part about how Parnham is fond of the child but would probably allow me to raise him, at least until he is considerably older. She’s probably mistaken on that head, in any case. But her last paragraph is very telling.

"‘Yesterday I walked by the ornamental pond, as I often do of an afternoon. The water was quite clear, with the sun shining off it. As I approached from the garden walk, I could see something in the water, but the glare was in my eyes. I came closer and a kind of terror grew in my heart because I could see more clearly now, and it was certainly a baby there under the water. Of course you will not understand why I immediately thought it was William, but I find that motherhood is like that. Without a thought I leapt over the carved ledge and into the water, which was a great deal deeper than I expected, but only to my waist.’"

Lord Barlow uttered a strangled exclamation but waved Jane to continue.

"‘Before I could even reach the spot where I had seen the baby, there was a great deal of commotion. John was there, and the gardener and his assistant, almost as if everyone had been following my progress. It was John who jumped into the pond after me and handed me out to the gardener. No one would listen to a word I said, but insisted that I was trying to drown myself. Honestly! In such a bit of water, in the middle of the afternoon! But when I looked back, the baby was gone and I let them take me away to the house.’"

Lord Barlow squeezed the bridge of his nose, a pained expression tightening his jaw and drawing down the corners of his mouth. “Ah, poor child, poor child.”

“So you think that she is indeed losing her mind, do you? That she has become suicidal?” demanded Jane, irate.

“What is the likelihood that there was a baby in the water?” he returned with a sad sigh. “Try to be reasonable, Jane.”

“There’s no chance on earth that there was a baby in the water,” she admitted. “But I can think of a very different and very likely explanation. John Parnham is trying to convince her that she’s crazy, or if not her, at least everyone else around them. What are the chances that her husband
and
the gardener
and
the gardener’s assistant would all be there at just the moment she stepped into the pond?”

“He is worried for her safety, Jane. It wouldn’t be at all unusual for him to have the staff watching out for her.”

“It’s just as likely that he had them there as witnesses. That he placed a doll in the water, knowing that Nancy’s immediate reaction would be to discover what it was.”

“But she admits she thought it was her own child. Preposterous!”

“Under the circumstances, not so odd. Parnham is doing everything he can think of to rattle Nancy. With her nerves on edge, seeing something of that nature would affect her tremendously.”

Lord Barlow shook his head. “You’re trying to put a decent face on it, Jane, and I think you’d do better to acknowledge the truth. Even Nancy didn’t see the baby when she looked back.”

“Of course not. Parnham probably kicked the doll out of the way as he ‘rescued’ her.”

“Jane, Jane.” Lord Barlow rubbed his temples and sighed. “Perhaps I’ve done only harm by withholding certain information only Mabel and I know. You and Lord Rossmere seem to think I’m some kind of ogre to believe that Nancy has been mentally unbalanced by her confinement. You might not be so determined to believe her side of the story if you knew of your own mother’s problems at the end.”

“What do you mean?”

“The last few days of her life your mother was quite out of her mind. She talked of her childhood days as though she were there, and she wept constantly, though not, as far as we could tell, because of how gravely ill she was. She didn’t recognize anyone; we didn’t let you children see her unless she was asleep.”

“Yes, I remember that. But, Papa, she was dying. Something to do with the childbirth itself going wrong.”

“Yes, but Nancy’s childbirth may have produced similar effect.”

“But it didn’t! I was with her for the first two weeks afterward and there was no sign at all that she was emotionally distraught.”

“Except for her crying,” her father reminded her. “Remember, you told me how she would burst into tears at the smallest thing.”

“But that’s perfectly common for women in that condition. You can’t equate that with my mother’s situation.”

“Taken with all the other instances of her strange behavior?” he asked gently. “I’m sorry, Jane, but I have to be realistic."

“My reality is quite different than yours.” She stood up to go. “I’m leaving within the hour to visit her. Whether you believe she’s becoming insane or I think Parnham is trying to kill her, you must admit that she would benefit from my companionship.”

Lord Barlow pursed his lips. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jane. Her husband will take care of her. Certainly I wanted to be the one to attend to your mother.”

“It doesn’t matter if you agree with me. I’m going to visit her. I’ll keep you posted on the situation, from my perspective.”

“I wish you wouldn’t, Jane. It will only distress you.” She felt weighted down with defeat. “Nonetheless, I can’t possibly do otherwise.”

“What about Lord Rossmere?”

Her head came up sharply. “He’s Aunt Mabel’s guest.” But she left a note for him, tucked under his door, before she departed. Wrapped inside it was the note she’d received from her sister. That might serve as some kind of explanation, since she was unable to provide any answer to his proposal.

Chapter 14

Jane felt a bit of trepidation as the carriage rolled up to the front of Parnham Hall. She’d sent no word ahead of her arrival, convinced that Parnham would put her off if he knew. Determined to stubbornly ignore any hints that she was not welcome, she pulled her bonnet a little closer about her head, retying the yellow ribbon under her chin. If only her coming wouldn’t put Nancy in an awkward position .

Awkward, indeed! Her husband trying to prove to everyone that she was suicidal was a great deal more awkward than having your sister come to stay uninvited. Jane leaned forward as the carriage drew to a halt before the two-storied porch of the entrance. The hall was an odd building in some ways, with pinnacled turrets and many-mullioned windows. More light came into the inside rooms than in most buildings of Jane’s experience, but she had once heard Parnham complain of it. To her mind the light made the large rooms airy and charming, and she loved to picture her sister sitting in one of them with the sun pouring in on her.

Parnham’s servants were also an odd assortment. None of them had come with him from the burned-down family home, as far as she could ascertain. At first when Nancy moved to the hall, she had complained of the butler and housekeeper, who were not as accustomed to their positions as those at Willow End. But Parnham had seen no need to replace them, and Nancy had gone along with his judgment. Her high expectations were seldom met, she’d told Jane, but the housekeeper, at least, seemed to make a real effort to improve.

A footman hurried out of the hall and sprang to open the carriage door for Jane. She assumed that the butler had gone to inform Parnham of her arrival, and she walked firmly toward the open door. Over her shoulder she said, “I have two cases. If you would bring them in with you, please.”

Before she reached the door, Nancy was there, rushing into her arms, a sparkle of moisture in her eyes. “Oh, Jane, how good of you to come! I never meant to hint that you should, you know,” she whispered fiercely against her sister’s shoulder. “I just felt that I had to put that in writing.”

“I understand. Come, we’ll talk in private.”

As soon as they were alone, Nancy said, “John’s gone off somewhere without leaving any message for me. I can never tell whether he’ll be back in a few hours or a few days. It’s disconcerting.”

An understatement, surely, Jane thought. “Well, we’ll do very well in his absence, I daresay. I had visions of him refusing to let me stay here.”

Nancy ducked her head between hunched shoulders. “He might have. With a perfectly reasonable excuse, of course: I’m too shaken from my experience yesterday to have company, or some such thing. Oh, Jane, I don’t know what to believe.”

“Certainly nothing that he tells you,” her sister replied briskly. “I don’t know how you can bear to stay here with him. Tell me why you returned.”

It was as Rossmere had suspected: a threat about the child. Jane was glad to be able to relieve her sister’s mind on that score. “He won’t hurt William. That’s where his fortune is to come from, being guardian for the boy and holding his money in trust. I’m absolutely positive about that, Nancy.”

Nancy’s lips quivered but she said nothing. Her jerky movements and distracted expression alarmed her sister. Jane talked to her for a long time, in a soothing, assured voice. She told Nancy about her suspicions and her own suggestions for a solution. When Nancy continued to look numbly disturbed, Jane brought forth Rossmere’s much more drastic measures. Nancy stared at her.

“You mustn’t consider marrying him just to protect me! How awful for you. Jane, we don’t even know if John is this villain you picture. I’m so torn, myself. Except for these wretched occurrences, he’s as loving and thoughtful as he ever was. I’m so confused. Perhaps my mind really is distorted.”

“Hush! Don’t even consider that as a possibility. It’s what he wants you to do. Whether you’re frightened of him or frightened that you’re ill, you’re much more likely to act ‘irrationally.’ I would do anything in my power to protect you, Nancy, including marrying Lord Rossmere.”

“I don’t see how it could help me for you to marry him.”

“Oh, I think he may be right that we could keep you and William safe at Graywood. I have a feeling he would be quite Parnham’s match, you know. There’s nothing fainthearted about him. I keep thinking there must be some other way,” she admitted. “I keep thinking this can’t be happening.”

“That’s how I feel: surely there is some mistake and this is only a nightmare that will come to an end.” Nancy clasped her hands in her lap. “Do you like the viscount?”

Jane laughed. “I’m not even sure. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I’m even... attracted to him. But I hardly know him and he can be very distant. He was quite adamant about not marrying me for my money when Aunt Mabel first suggested it.”

“Aunt Mabel! She’s been matchmaking again?”

“I’m afraid so. She saw it as the perfect arrangement: he needed money and I needed a husband. What could be more reasonable?”

“No doubt she meant it for the best. But, Jane, what about . . . well, your feelings for Richard?”

Jane stared out the window, her eyes unfocused. “I think I’m beginning to accept that with his death those feelings had to change. They aren’t as bright and fresh anymore. Now, instead of filling my whole heart, they’ve condensed into a hard knot as rich as gold but with empty space around them.” She brought her gaze back to her sister. “Can you understand that?”

“I think so. Do you think Rossmere could fill that empty space?”

It was a long time before Jane answered. Finally, with a sigh, she said, “Perhaps. Or children could. I can’t really know. Just recently I feel that I have to get on with my life and that it’s possible that doesn’t mean remaining a spinster aunt to my brothers’ and sisters’ children.”

Nancy regarded her clasped hands and spoke in almost a whisper. “I would come to you if you were at Graywood, and married. If it were just you alone, I would fear for both of us, Jane. I’m frightened, so full of fear that sometimes I can’t see John at all for the monster that faces me. In my mind, he is no more or less than the devil. I realize that must sound unbalanced, but I can’t help but invest him with every element of evil I’ve ever imagined.”

‘‘I don’t blame you."

“I feel better now that you’ve explained that William is probably safe. I don’t care so much for myself, but the poor child..."

“You must care for yourself, too, my love,” her sister urged. “You see, John’s trying to take away that as well. If you start to believe that you’re not worth saving, that there must be something horribly wrong with you if he could do this despicable thing, then you won’t fight for your life.”

Nancy shuddered, but her hands made a gesture of hopelessness. “Sometimes I can’t remember why it matters if he kills me. I get to thinking I must deserve to die.”

“How awful! You must stay angry instead of fearful and despondent. Remember that you have a whole family full of people who love you.”

“But Papa? He can’t even believe what’s happening. And you know, Jane—”