French Jade: A dazzling Regency love story

by Janet Louise Roberts

  Minna was controlling her tears; she was wiping her eyes with his handkerchief, and sniffing a bit, but that was all. Oliver was thinking as the horses paced steadily along the country road.

  It could not go on like this. He could not endure it! No, it must be settled and done.

  Minna had to give in! But tonight she was too tired and upset to think straight.

  She was slumped beside him; the carriage seat was not all that comfortable for a tired lass.

  “Lean against me,” he said gruffly. “You’re so weary.” He could not keep the tenderness from creeping in, though he meant to be strict with her.

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  “God-a-mercy! Will you do as I tell you!” he roared.

  She jumped, and then timidly leaned against his shoulder.

  It was a long journey. Finally the lights of London that had gleamed in the distance began to get brighter and more clear. As they came closer, Oliver kept a watch for footpads on foot or thieves in carriages. It was close to midnight.

  They turned into the main London road and clip-clopped along. The horses were tired, so was he. It had been a long, sobering day.

  Finally they turned into the street where the Redmonds lived. And Oliver saw the torches at the gate, the footman keeping watch, and every light in the house ablaze. The Redmonds were waiting up for them.

  The footman was there, and the door opened as he drew up. Another footman came out, one of the older ones, to help Minna down.

  “Miss Minna — God be thanked,” he breathed, as his strong hands lifted her bodily from the carriage. He ventured to glare up to Oliver. “Mr Seymour, sir, we been a-worrying!”

  “I’ll come in for a bit,” he said drily. “Will you take care of the horses? They are too tired to give trouble.”

  The younger footman took the reins, and Minna led the way into the house. Her mother was just inside in the hallway, and Oliver braced himself to meet her reproaches.

  CHAPTER 14

  When Minna saw her mother’s weary wrinkled face, tears came to her eyes.

  “Oh, Minna, where have you been?” asked Mrs Redmond, and held out her arms.

  Minna half-fell into them. Her mother led her gently into the drawing room. Percy was there, and Gabrielle, and François Claudel, and the maids, and —

  Oh, it was all too much. She could not tell her mother in front of all of them.

  Oliver had followed her in. “It was my fault, Mrs Redmond,” he said gravely.

  “No, it was mine,” confessed Minna, in a subdued tone. She pulled the bonnet strings and dragged her bonnet from her aching head. “Oliver, I am so sorry. But I have deceived you. I — I masqueraded as my cousin — Gabrielle Dubois. I am Minerva Redmond.”

  He was gazing down at her, the oddest look on his handsome face. Regret, laughter, sympathy — she could not decipher it all.

  “But where have you been?” insisted her mother. “Gabrielle said Oliver invited her for a ride in the country. But she was conversing with François, and forgot the time —”

  Minna could not help giving her cousin an involuntary guilty glance. But Gabrielle leaned back in the cushions languidly, and said nothing, watching all alertly with her narrowed green eyes.

  “Yes, yes. But I went with Oliver — I mean — he thought I was Gabrielle —” Desperately she turned to Oliver, her eyes lowered, so she could not read the growing contempt he must feel. “I must tell you — I have pretended to b-be — G-Gabrielle — for these weeks — she arrived only a few days ago — to h-help me out of the c-coil —”

  “I sent for Gabrielle,’ said Betsy Redmond, with a sigh. “I could see no other way out of this. Minna pretending to be her cousin — flirtations going on — I should never have permitted it, Mr Seymour. It was quite dreadful!”

  “I was wrong,” said Minna, miserable, ready to cry again. “I apologize to — to everyone — for the t-trouble I have c-caused —”

  “But where have you been all night?” demanded Percy, coming up to Oliver. “You took my sister out in the country — and it is quite past midnight! What of her reputation? This not like you, Seymour!”

  “One might say … I was maddened,” said Oliver thoughtfully. “However, I mean to make amends. Minerva, I have the honour and distinct pleasure to ask you to marry me. I will cherish you, respect you, welcome you into my family, as I am sure my mother and sister will do. Will you marry me?”

  The air in the drawing room seemed to warm. After a hushed silence, Percy said, “Well, I did not know you meant — of course, Minna will have you, I am sure!”

  “I would rather hear it from her, if you will,” said Oliver gently. “Well, Minna? Will you have me?”

  He took her hand, her cold little paw, so dusty and dirty, her gloves gone.

  Minna swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. He would feel such contempt for her! This was all he could do; he had disgraced her — her reputation — and it was all her fault — Such confused thoughts went through her mind that she could not speak.

  Mrs Redmond nudged her daughter. “Minna? Will you? I quite approve — if this is what you want!”

  Minna finally managed to nod, and said hoarsely, “I — yes — I will — if he wants —”

  Oliver seemed to relax a trifle; he squeezed her hand and bent to kiss her cheek. This was not the way she had meant it to happen. She could have wept again. She had wanted him on his knees before her, humiliated, burning with love for her — and Minna haughty in her best jade silk — condescending —

  “Well, that is fine, then!” said Percy heartily, with relief. “Congratulations to you both! Denise and I are engaged, you know! Shall you beat us to the altar? We mean to marry in June!”

  “June is a good time,” said Oliver. “Perhaps we might make it a double ceremony!”

  “Oh, excellent idea,” said Percy. “Saves all kinds of trouble — just one reception!”

  His mother intervened hastily. “I am sure it is not necessary to decide all this tonight — it is rather late! Mr Seymour, my good wishes to your mother, and we will speak later this week concerning this! I assure you I am most pleased with the happy event. Minna seems very tired, I will put her to bed,” she added sternly.

  “Yes, yes, excellent idea. Minna, may I call upon you tomorrow morning?”

  She nodded, still feeling so humiliated she could not raise her look to his face. “Yes — perhaps at eleven,” she said dully.

  “Fine, I shall come.” He gave her hand a final squeeze, and dropped it to her side.

  “Well, if I may say,” said Gabrielle, rising languidly, “all this day has been most exciting. François and I are engaged also! Yes, he has swept me off my feet!” she said, drily.

  “Indeed?” Mrs Redmond turned to her niece in surprise. “You — Gabrielle — and Mr Claudel? Well, I am not amazed, but I am so pleased. I believe you are quite suited, and he has — proved his devotion to you,” she added.

  “Yes — he has, hasn’t he?” said Gabrielle, with a smile, reaching out her hand grandly to François. He took it, kissed it gallantly, as Minna watched in some envy. Now, that was the way to carry off an announcement! She could not blame Oliver for not kissing her dirty hand; trust Gabrielle to have clean hands with jewels on them, and perfume, all ready for such an occasion.

  “You have made me the most happy man in the world,” said François Claudel, with emotion. He straightened, and his sad monkey face seemed even more sad.

  “We shall marry in France, however,” said Gabrielle. “Among our friends there. I fear we must depart soon, dear Tante Betsy. You have been so ver’ kind to us! However, we must depart ver’ soon!”

  Mrs Redmond hid her relief admirably. “Must you? But first you must celebrate with us, that Percy and also Minna are engaged!”

  “Lord, what parties,” muttered Percy, as though he had just been shocked into awareness of the many festive occasions before him, before he could return to his beloved estates.

  Olive
r gave Percy, and then Gabrielle and François, his most sincere congratulations on the happy occasion, and then made his departure. He did not kiss Minna again.

  The door closed after him, the carriage clopped away. Minna drooped.

  “Well,” said Gabrielle. “You are a sly one, Minna! I could not conceive what had happened when I was locked into the summerhouse with François! Then I understood that you were so ver’ jealous of me!”

  Minna raised her weary head. “He is in love with me,” she said clearly. “I could not let you get away with anything, Gabrielle! He is not suited to you!”

  Gabrielle shrugged daintily. “Perhaps not — he is very dull,” she conceded. “François understands me best of all!”

  Behind her back, François winked solemnly at Minna, and her spirits rose a little. At least she had managed that a-right!

  Then Minna went to bed. Mercifully, her mother did not remain to question her on the day’s activities. Jessie did give her a scold, though, as she helped her into her night-rail.

  “Keeping the household up to all hours!” she said, tending to her charge as though she were a small girl. “I’ll do the buttons, miss! And away all the day, alone, with a gentleman! You know better than that, Miss Sly!”

  “Yes, I know better. It wasn’t what I had — hoped,” sighed Minna. “Oh, well, it all turned out — didn’t it?”

  “He’ll do the honourable,” conceded Jessie, bluntly. “He’s a gent, that is sure. Couldn’t get a nicer feller. We was talking below stairs, all of us, and said as how you couldn’t ask for a nicer gentleman, always polite and thoughtful to anybody, no matter what his station. Yes, you could do a lot worse, Minerva Redmond!”

  Minerva thought so too, sighing and tossing on her bed that night. She had taken advantage of his kindness, and if she had an ounce of generosity in her, she would break the engagement and let him go!

  Oliver had proposed to her only because he had compromised her by taking her off alone, and not returning until midnight. He was doing the only honourable thing to clear her reputation, for few would talk when the outing was promptly followed by an announcement of their engagement.

  Yet Oliver could not be happy about this! He could not be. And he had not seemed happy tonight at all.

  Oh, what a tangled coil she had brought about when she had impulsively decided to masquerade as a French jade! She remembered how Oliver had said he meant to acquire some French jade, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  She had brought herself down with a crash, and Oliver with her! But she had not meant to do that, she vowed. She had only wanted to avenge herself for the cruel words he had spoken — lightly, she was sure — to that hateful Astrid Faversham.

  Oliver had tried to apologize. She should have accepted that graciously, and let the incident pass. That was what a true lady would have done.

  But no, Minna had had to have her impulsive way! She had defied her mother and gone ahead in this crazy masquerade, and look what trouble she had brought on them all! And mostly on to Oliver!

  She felt he did not really want to marry her. He was older, mature, serious, a man of the world. Why should he marry a flighty silly chit like Minna? Oh, he was probably already regretting his proposal. Yet he was so honourable, he would force himself to go through with it!

  The only thing she could do, the only moral thing to do, was to confess all to him, and break the brief engagement. She had to let him go. She would not tie him to a life of misery with a woman he did not love. It was too great a sacrifice for him.

  Oddly enough, when Minna had reached this conclusion, she was able to go to sleep. She was satisfied, she had come to the right decision. She must do what was right for all, especially for Oliver.

  Her reputation would suffer for a time, but she was sorry, and her mother would forgive her. But her penalty would be a lifetime of living without Oliver. And that was terrible, she thought, as she wakened the next morning. A lifetime without Oliver! Never to see him close again, never to feel his kisses on her cheeks, on her mouth. Never to have his arms about her, his fierce embrace that brought her body so closely to his that she felt she melted against him!

  It was a very subdued girl that Jessie saw that morning. The maid gave her a keen look.

  “What will ye wear this morning, with your beau coming to visit you, Miss Minerva?”

  “The blue muslin,” she said sadly.

  Jessie started to protest, then compressed her lips, shook her head, and got out the little blue muslin. It had not been worn recently, and the ironing girl had it bright and fresh.

  Minerva donned it, and sat silently to have her hair brushed. Jessie must have sensed her mood, for she brushed the hair demurely, not in the old tight coronet, but in a close wave that just outlined Minna’s small, shapely head.

  “No muslin bonnet, I cannot endure it,” said Minna, and Jessie agreed.

  “Nay, you’re no spinster, Minna,” she agreed cheerfully, dropping her formality. “There now, you look a good sight. Not like that French hussy, but a sight prettier, just as ye are!”

  Minna went down to breakfast, and had the pleasure of Percy and his quiet happiness. Percy had much to say about his fiancée: how pretty was Denise, what a good girl, what a sensible girl, what a fine wife she would make, how happy he was. Minna agreed with him about it all.

  He was off to take Denise to the lending library that morning. Minna thought the books would not take much of their attention. How well suited they were! She would be so happy to welcome Denise as her sister. And Mary, Amelia, and young Jane were all so charming, it would be pleasant to have them visit this summer.

  Mrs Redmond came down, yawning, as Percy departed. She came in to breakfast, and her eyes sharpened as she saw Minna in blue muslin.

  She sat down and poured out tea. “So Oliver Seymour comes this morning,” she said. “You’ll not be foolish, Minna?”

  “No, Mother,” said Minna dully. She waited till the footman left the room before adding quietly, “I cannot marry him. Oliver asked me only — only because of the fix — that I pushed him into. It would not be fair —”

  “Oh, dear, I was afraid of that,” said her mother simply. “Are you quite sure he has no tenderness for you, darling?”

  “Oh, I think he has tenderness,” said Minna bitterly. “But not — not love!”

  “Well.” Betsy sipped thoughtfully. “Do give him a chance to say so, though, darling,” she urged. “I wish you were not quite so quick of tongue! Let him speak!”

  Minna promised, then went to the drawing room to wait. She heard François’s voice later, but not Gabrielle’s. She could not endure to speak to Gabrielle this morning.

  No one came into the room. She was grateful for that. She sat quietly, composing her thoughts. About ten until eleven, she heard a carriage drive up. Oliver Seymour, on time as usual. She clenched her fists. She must be strong — but not quick of tongue!

  Oliver came into the room and shut the door after him. He came over to her. “Good morning, my darling,” he smiled, and before she knew what he was about to do, he drew her up and into his arms. She was drawn to his warm body, and he bent his head.

  She caught her breath, her mouth opened to protest. They had much to discuss! Oliver put his mouth on hers, and his lips clung warmly. Oh, it was so sweet, so dear, so exciting!

  Minna answered his kisses just as warmly, her hands clinging to his arms. He lifted his head finally and smiled down at her.

  “There. That was what I wanted,” he said, with satisfaction.

  “Oh, Oliver,” she said. “I had not meant to do that. I was going to — I must say —”

  “Before you speak, let me say what I came to say.” He interrupted swiftly, and she thought there was something odd in his expression. “Pray, sit down, Minna.” And gently he pushed her down once more on to the sofa.

  “What?” she quavered. “W-what do you — wish —”

  To her amazement, Oliver sank on to his blue silk-clad kne
e as gracefully as a courtier. He put one white-gloved hand to his breast, and fixed his gaze on hers earnestly.

  “Minerva,” he said solemnly. “I have long admired you, and your fine family. I knew you were a fine and excellent child, a lovely young girl. When you grew to maturity, I noted with pleasure your intelligence, your kindness, your gentleness.”

  Was she dreaming? Could it be true? Or was he mocking her? She stared at him with wide green eyes, scarcely breathing.

  “It distressed me to see you remain shy, long after you should have grown more confident of your charms and worth. The night that I mocked you, I was but teasing, hoping to waken you to how — how silly it was that you should dress as a child, as a dowd. Minna, I swear to you I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Oh —” She swallowed, and found her voice. “It did — not matter — really, Oliver —”

  “It did matter. I was wrong, I was foolish. But I am sure it was fate that caused this to happen. When you were driven by fury to play your masquerade, the gods must have been laughing kindly at us, Minerva! For it was then I grew to understand that I loved you.”

  “Oh —” she breathed, enraptured. How beautifully he talked!

  “I was fooled for a time, 1 admit. But behind the brazen flirtation, the bold costumes, I sensed a tender, gentle spirit, a generous sweet passion. And so did I fall more deeply in love with you, Minna!”

  She could not speak. He paused, anxiously, then went on slowly.

  “And when I proposed last night, Minna, I sensed that you were troubled, as I was. I had not meant it to happen like that. I truly frightened you yesterday, in my attempts to make you confess what you had done. I am so sorry for that. I do swear it shall never happen again! If you but bring yourself to trust me, I shall protect you rather than harm you, keep you from danger rather than thrust you into it, love you and cherish you all our days —”

  “Oh, yes, Oliver,” she whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, I love you,” she said, with a radiant smile. She put her hands on his outstretched hands, and allowed him to draw her up once more, and into his embrace.