Chapter 9
The following day passed in a bit of a blur. Focusing on her chores was impossible for Jane in the wake of the previous evening’s events. She’d done what she’d told herself she could not do. She’d slept with him, which made her wonder a bit about what to do next. Because she really didn’t want the rest of the servants finding out, or anyone else for that matter. Especially since she wasn’t sure which foot to stand on at the moment.
After falling asleep in James’s embrace, she’d awoken to fine him gone. He’d given her no indication of how to proceed from this point forward, so she could only assume she was to continue as maid until she accepted or refused his offer of marriage. The whole business left her with a sense of deflation she could not shake, but on the other hand, he probably felt no better having to deal with a woman who could not make up her mind about what she wanted.
Obviously, the biggest problem was that she wanted it all. In a perfect world she would take him with her back to her own time, except as far as meddling with the fabric of time, that would probably take the cake. So then, in order to have him, she would have to stay here, which was something she was starting to think about more seriously now. Especially if he accepted the woman she was with no demand for her to change in any way. And who was to say she couldn’t make a success of things here in Regency England? Perhaps she’d stand more of a chance of becoming a successful romance author during this time period. The genre was certainly less competitive, so if she could only write in a way that appealed to this day and age, she was confident her novels would become popular.
Presently, however, she had more important things to consider. Tatiana’s murder remained unsolved, and with James’s mention of Rockwell’s sister arriving soon, there was much for her to do besides finding the guilty culprit. She’d felt a flare of jealousy upon hearing about Lady Elise, but James had assured her she need not worry about her.
“My mother invited her during a momentary lapse in judgment and without consulting me. If it were not rude, I would send the girl away again the instant she gets here,” he’d told her. “I expect her to be thoroughly bored during her stay what with no other ladies of her own age about.”
Helping Margaret prepare another guest bedroom, Jane forced herself to think of everything she and James had concluded so far. The last thing they’d theorized, was the possibility that the scream James had heard on the night of the murder had not been Tatiana’s. Jane caught the other end of the bed sheet and pulled it tight around the corners of the mattress.
“I was wondering…” She smoothed the sheet with the palm of her hand. “Where were you that night when Lady Tatiana was killed?”
Margaret froze. “I was in her bedchamber actually, returning a bit of mending to the dresser.”
“So you heard her scream then?”
“I heard someone scream, but I don’t believe it was her ladyship.”
“Why not?”
Margaret grimaced and turned away to busy herself with a bit of dusting. “You’re very curious about this whole thing.”
“I’m trying to solve it,” Jane confessed.
“Really?” Having turned toward her, Margaret stared at Jane with wide eyes.
Jane nodded. “Whoever did this has to be found and punished. So if you know something that you’ve not yet mentioned…”
“I’d say it was either Betsy or Tilly who screamed.” Margaret bit her lip before adding. “It was high pitched. Cook and Mrs. Fontaine would have sounded different.”
And since Betsy had been killed, the only person Jane could ask was Tilly.
She found her in the kitchen later that day, furiously scrubbing away at a pot, and was reminded of the tragic look in her eyes when Jane had first met her. At the time, she’d supposed the girl was simply distressed by what had transpired, but perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps she’d actually seen something.
“Can I talk to you for a second in private?” Jane asked as she sidled up next to Tilly. Soap suds frothed in the pot, covering Tilly’s hands and arms all the way to her elbows.
“I’m a touch busy at the moment. Don’t you see?”
“I do, but this will only take a moment, and it would be really helpful.”
Glancing over her shoulder at Cook, Tilly set the pot aside with a sigh and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m going to fetch some more water,” she said and then led the way through to a door. It opened onto some steps leading up to a courtyard. “What is it then?” Tilly asked once they were alone. She reached for a bucket and set it beneath the pump.
“Were you near the terrace on the night when Lady Tatiana was killed?” Jane asked.
Color drained from Tilly’s face. “Why do you ask?”
“Because someone screamed, and I’m trying to figure out who it was and if that person might have seen something.”
“I didn’t see anything other than the body.” Her eyebrows had pulled together while the corners of her lips dipped downward.
“Why didn’t you call someone?”
Tears welled in Tilly’s eyes. “Because I wasn’t supposed to be upstairs. It’s not my place, but I realized the mints I’d made that afternoon might have been contaminated and—”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“It wasn’t my fault. I mean, it was, I suppose, but it was an accident, Jane, you’ve got to believe me! And then I saw her ladyship, and I feared I might have had something to do with her death, so I ran and hid in my room.”
Dumbfounded, it took a second for this new bit of information to seep in. “I take it these mints are sweets for his lordship’s family and guests?”
Tilly nodded. “Cook usually makes them but she had an errand to run that day, so she left me to it after a bit of instruction.” She gulped and swiped at her eyes. “It wasn’t until she returned that I realized the egg I’d used wasn’t from the new batch brought in that morning but from one she’d been meaning to throw out because it was old.”
“And you were afraid of admitting to your mistake. Of what the consequence might have been?”
“First chance I got I snuck upstairs to remove the mints and replace them with fresh ones and…that’s when I saw her.”
“So you instinctively screamed and then ran so you wouldn’t be discovered.”
“Just so,” Tilly confirmed. She wrung her hands on her apron. “Please don’t tell anyone, Jane.”
Unable to make such an assurance, Jane told her instead, “I’ve never heard of someone dying because they ate an old egg.”
“I know, you’re right, but I panicked. And then later on when I came to my senses, it was too late.”
Jane nodded. “You did the right thing to confide this information now. It will help create a better picture of what happened that evening and increase the chance of finding her ladyship’s killer.”
“I hope so. Truly I do.”
Jane gave a polite smile and then helped Tilly pump the water and carry the bucket back into the kitchen. From there, she took the servants stairs toward the main floor with the intention of giving the library a thorough dusting. But as luck would have it, Lady Camden was approaching from the right at the exact same moment Jane stepped out into the hallway. Naturally, fleeing was out of the question, unless Jane wanted to look like an absolute coward, which she didn’t. So she dropped her gaze instead and bobbed a curtsey.
“Jane.” The countess’s voice was as dry as bark on a hot summer’s day. “It has come to my attention that my son has developed something of a tendre for you.”
Straight to the point then. Jane chose to deny it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lady.”
“Hmm…” The countess reached out and used one long pointy finger to tip Jane’s chin up. Squinting, she peered into her upturned face. “I find that highly unlikely.” Dropping her finger, she straightened her spine and looked down her nose at Jane. “You will of course dissuade such nonsensical affection and remind him of his duties.”
“And why on earth would I do that?”
“Because your employment here depends on it, my dear.” The countess leaned forward. “Do not make the error of supposing my son is the only one wielding power around here. If I want you gone, you shall disappear quickly enough. But for some reason, I suspect you are rather comfortable with your position and loath for it to change. Perhaps you need the funds, perhaps there is something else, but it is no matter. The point is, you will leave my son alone so he can give his attention to a woman who is deserving.”
It took all the self-restraint Jane possessed and the biting of her tongue not to give the woman a sharp rejoinder. But after what she’d just been told, she held back the retort, allowing only a silent curse. “As you wish,” she muttered. What did it matter anyway? It wasn’t as if she loved James or he loved her. His only motive for offering marriage was so he could bed her as often as he chose, and her only motive to accept was so she wouldn’t be viewed as a whore. If she stayed. Which she was really not sure she would.
“Good.” The countess smiled. “Then we are in agreement.”
Jane watched her saunter off while wondering how a woman like her could ever have mothered a son as kind and thoughtful as James. It just went to show that one could never judge a person based on their parents. With a groan, she continued toward the library, halting the moment she opened the door. It appeared as though the room was in utter chaos. Books had been pulled off shelves, opened up, and spread out on tables. And in the middle of all the clutter stood one man, his hunched over frame and frantic movements suggesting a state of absolute panic.
“Mr. Snypes?”
He seemed oblivious to her presence, deaf to her voice, so she went to him slowly and placed one hand on his arm. Flinching, he looked up instantly from the book he was holding, a wild expression widening his eyes and darkening his pupils. “Jane.”
“What are you doing?” When he seemed confused, she allowed her gaze to shift to the room at large, waiting for him to follow her line of vision.
He did so shortly. “I…I…His lordship has not yet woken, so I thought I would try to find the letter.”
Jane frowned. “What letter?”
As if not hearing her, he dropped the book and went to pick up another. “It has to be here somewhere.”
“Mr. Snypes.” She attempted to force her most authoritative tone – the one she recalled her French teacher using when she was in high school. “Will you please tell me what is going on?”
He looked up again as if startled. Uncertainty marred his features for a long, drawn out second until his forehead suddenly scrunched, and his lips drew tight, giving way to a look of extreme annoyance. “None of your business.” He marched toward her and held the book out for her to take. The moment she took it, he clasped his hands behind his back. “I was looking for something on his lordship’s behalf, but it seems as though it is not here.” Waving a dismissive hand, he then said, “Now tidy this up, Jane. That is after all your job, is it not?”
“No. It bloody well isn’t,” she was tempted to say, but she was so bowled over by his sudden change in personality, she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it or how to respond.
It took a few moments for her to gather her wits, at which point Mr. Snypes was long gone.
Muttering her disapproval, she went to work, returning all the books to the vacant spots on the shelves as expediently as possible. What baffled her most was the lie Mr. Snypes had told her, because she very much doubted James had sent him to riffle through all the pages of his books. Which begged the question, why? Why would Mr. Snypes say something she could easily check up on by simply asking James about it? Unless he’d been thrown so far off balance by her arrival, he’d blurted the first thing that came to mind.
“I do hope you are putting all those back in their original position.”
It was Jane’s turn to be startled by a masculine murmur. Shifting, she looked to the doorway to find Lord Rockwell leaning casually against the frame. “Of course,” she told him crisply, hoping her cool response would dissuade him from joining her.
It did not.
Straightening, he sauntered forward like a jungle cat on the prowl. “It really is a shame,” he said while she continued tidying up.
She knew she shouldn’t take the bait, so she refrained.
But that did not stop him from continuing. “You are far too pretty to be a simple maid, Jane.”
A cold shiver scurried over her shoulders. She did her best to appear unaffected. “There is nothing simple about being a maid, my lord. It is hard work and even requires some skill if one is to excel at it.”
“Is that what you are hoping to do by keeping Camden’s company? Excel at it?”
She knew what he was implying and felt her cheeks flush, which only rankled her nerves even further. “There is nothing wrong with exchanging the occasional word with one’s employer.”
He gave a snort. “I begin to wonder if that is all you are doing.” Before she could respond, he said, “Far be it for me to judge since I have enjoyed my own fair share of housemaids over the years. You, however, are exceptionally delightful. I shall have to ask Camden if I can enjoy you when he’s had his fill.”
Outraged, Jane turned to him with a glare while clutching the book she held firmly to her chest. “You are a disgusting creature, Rockwell.”
“Oh dear.” He chuckled. “It would appear as though I have struck a sensitive chord with you, Jane.”
“Any woman would be insulted by your implication.”
“What? That you might be willing to hop from bed to bed? It is a fair assumption considering the speed with which you have taken up with Camden.”
“I have not taken up with him!”
A sly grin was Rockwell’s immediate response, unsettling Jane even further. He turned for the door and thankfully started to leave, but right before he did, he stopped to say, “Then what on earth was he doing in your bedchamber last night?” And with that startling question and a bit of dry laughter, he departed, leaving Jane with an overwhelming degree of shame.
He knew, and given the sort of man he was, it was only a matter of time before others would as well, which meant Jane’s days as a respectable woman were numbered. Oh, if only a portal would open up soon so she could escape this place where the slightest lapse in conduct could lead to extreme prejudice.
Spending time with Harrington was no longer as natural as it had once been. Not after the insight Jane had given James to Harrington’s sexuality and the feelings he supposedly harbored for him. In fact, it felt bloody awkward. Yet James did his best to converse with his friend over breakfast. It was just the two of them at the table since Rockwell had already finished his meal before they arrived.
“I take it Lady Elise will be arriving later today,” Harrington said as he stuck his fork into a piece of egg and popped it into his mouth. “She would make an excellent match for you, I should think.”
James winced while chewing on a piece of bacon. He washed it down with a sip of coffee. “My mother seems to think so, but I disagree. It was wrong of her to go behind my back and ask Rockwell to issue the invitation.”
“I suppose she wants what is best for you.”
“No. She wants what is best for her and for the earldom. As for me, I am simply supposed to sacrifice my happiness as she did and suffer a marriage of convenience for the rest of my days when—” He broke off, unwilling to divulge too much.
But Harrington stared at him from the opposite side of the table. “When what?”
“It is nothing.” Lowering his gaze, James busied himself with buttering his toast.
“Oh my…there is someone else!”
James raised his gaze to meet his friend’s. He clamped his teeth together until the tension began to ache and then sighed. “Not exactly, but there is certainly someone with whom I feel the sort of connection a man might want to feel with his partner for life. The problem is, the woman in questio
n is not entirely convinced she would want to be my wife. And that is without considering the ramifications of marrying her.” He held Harrington’s gaze. “She is not of my social class.”
“Is it the maid? Jane?” When James reluctantly nodded, Harrington said, “I have seen the way you look at her. But I have also seen the way she looks at you. Whatever her reluctance may be, it has nothing to do with not wanting you, Camden, because I can assure you she wants you very much indeed.”
He knew this of course, but to say as much would take the conversation down a path he would rather avoid, so he simply nodded and asked, “What would you advise?”
Harrington kept silent for a while, the only sound in the room that of their respective cutlery clattering upon the plates as they each continued eating. Eventually, his friend said, “Few of us get what we want in this life. There are many who suffer without ever knowing what it might be like to marry for love. So if you have the strength to make it work, to face the storm that is sure to follow, then I would advise you to court Jane or…Miss Edwards, as you prefer to call her, as if your future happiness depends on it. Because it does.”
“So you would support me in this? You would make no attempt to dissuade me?”
“Why should I? You are after all a wealthy man, so it matters not if she is poor. The most important thing, I should think, is whether or not you can accept getting shunned by your social circle. Because I doubt the majority will welcome Miss Edwards. Rather, they will snicker and gossip behind her back and call her a fortune huntress, possibly worse.”
James’s chest began to ache. “I am aware. But I was thinking perhaps she and I could make new friends, keep to the country, and avoid the gatherings where she might be ridiculed.”
“It is possible, to be sure, and of course you will not lose all of your current friends either. I shall happily welcome both of you at Long Moor whenever you feel inclined to visit the Lake District.”
Appreciating his support, James thanked Harrington, took another sip of his coffee, and turned the conversation toward a fire he’d read about in that morning’s paper and how it affected the poor people of London, many of whom were now without roofs over their heads. It relaxed James, knowing that in spite of what he now knew about Harrington, the two of them could still be friends without having to touch on a subject which would likely embarrass them both and perhaps even cause Harrington to break his connection with James.
The Girl Who Stepped Into The Past Page 12