The Last of Lady Lansdown

by Shirley Kennedy

  “It won’t work. Granny and Millicent already know. I told them a while ago.”

  “They can keep a secret. After all, they’re on our side.”

  “If you must know, there’s another reason, too.” Jane hated revealing the most intimate details of her life. “I have fallen in love with Douglas. Possibly I want to marry him. What would happen if I agree to your plan?”

  “I don’t see—”

  “Well, I see. I would be deceiving him, absolutely making a dupe of him. If he found out, I would never see him again.”

  Mama cocked her head. “Has he asked you to marry him?”

  “Well, no.”

  A look of triumph flashed through Mama’s eyes. “Then how can you be sure he will ask? I know you don’t want me interfering in your private life, but it seems to me he’s simply taking advantage and has no intention of ... shall we say, making an honest woman of you.”

  Could Mama be right? In the euphoria of her newfound love for Douglas, she had not even considered he might not propose. “To be honest, I am not sure what Douglas intends.”

  “If he does not propose, then so much the better,” her mother equably replied. “That way, he won’t be involved since he won’t care one way or the other that you’re with child.”

  “If I were to take up with Douglas, it’s absurd to think I would immediately conceive a child.”

  “I know it’s absurd, but it’s possible. If it doesn’t happen, what have you lost?”

  Jane knew full well how she ought to reply to such outrageous logic, and yet, just looking into her mother’s strained, careworn face made her wonder how she could say no. But how could she say yes? “I need time to think.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m not saying I’ll do it, but I agree not to say anything, at least for a little while.”

  “You can handle Bruta?”

  “I can’t answer that. If by chance she doesn’t already know, I’ll do my best to keep it secret.”

  “See that you do, darling. I’m depending on you to do the right thing.”

  Although she did her best to conceal it, Jane left her mother’s bedchamber in a high state of agitation. She suspected Mama had temporarily taken leave of her senses, a condition no doubt caused not only because she nearly lost her daughter in the fire but because the one thing she feared the most had finally happened. No wonder she was upset. She was about to lose her home once again, as well as her precious standing in society. Jane understood her mother’s feelings perfectly well, but her request was shocking, nonetheless.

  When Jane entered her bedchamber, she discovered Bruta tidying up. Did she know? “I’m going to rest a while, Bruta, so that will be all.”

  “Very well, m’lady.” The sullen lady’s maid looked her square in the eye and said in an offhand voice, “I see you’ve come ’round.”

  Uh-oh. There went her secret. Mama’s plan would never succeed now. Unless ... “Bruta, have you told anyone?”

  “No, madam.”

  Jane stood tall, tilted her chin and looked down her nose in the imperious pose she hardly ever used. “Then I prefer that you do not. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  Jane wondered if she was getting through to her stony-faced lady’s maid. “You are not to tell anyone, and I mean anyone. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, madam.”

  Bruta left shortly thereafter, leaving Jane to wonder if she would really keep her mouth shut or go running to Beatrice to give her the welcome news. Well, she would soon find out. Meantime, she would keep her promise and not tell, at least for the moment. Surely, when Mama gathered her wits about her, she would realize such a farfetched scheme would never work.

  Two days later, Griggs brought her a letter. “This just arrived, m’lady.” Seeing it was from Douglas, Jane hastened to her bedchamber to open it. Could there be a proposal in the letter? Had he declared his love? Eagerly she ripped it open.

  My Dear Countess,

  Thank you for your kind words. I am extremely happy your problem has been resolved.

  Upon my return in two weeks, I shall call upon you to express in person my admiration for your strength and courage. I shall also be saying my goodbyes since I shall soon be setting sail for America.

  —Cartland

  Jane sank to her bed, totally numb and deflated. What a fool she was to expect a declaration of undying love. What insanity to think he might even propose.

  You idiot, what did you expect?

  In all their times together, neither the word “love” nor “marriage” had been mentioned once. In fact, had not Douglas clearly stated he would never marry? Foolishly, she had ignored his words, choosing to wrap herself in infatuation’s rosy glow. Now, in the cold light of a new day, she saw their so-called romance was nothing more than a mere dalliance, prompted by lust, not love.

  She crumpled the letter and tossed it into the fireplace, where it quickly vanished in the flames.

  Douglas Cartland could also go to blazes.

  That evening, when she entered the dining room for dinner, she was surprised to find only her own family at the table. Beatrice and James were absent.

  “Where are the Eltons?” she asked Griggs.

  “Gone to London, m’lady. Rather suddenly, I must say.” The butler gave her a bland smile. “Perhaps it has something to do with Mister Percy Elton’s hasty departure.”

  “Did they say when they would be back?”

  “No, they did not. However, I got the impression they would not be gone long.”

  How interesting that Beatrice had not said a word about traveling plans. Could it be that she had somehow discovered Percy’s recent “problem”?

  She doubted Bruta was in any way responsible. To her surprise, Bruta appeared to have kept her secret.

  Well, whatever the reason, Jane felt vastly relieved she would not have to deal with the terrible Eltons for the next few days.

  Late that night the rains began again. During the next several days, storm after storm rolled over the landscape, dumping more water on the already-soaked ground than anyone had seen in years. Jane spent the week thoroughly enjoying the absence of the Eltons, yet her mother’s outrageous request weighed down on her, as oppressive as the weather.

  Finally she arose one morning to see that the skies had cleared. What a happy sight! At last she could get out of the house and visit Beauty again.

  When she arrived at Lord Rennie’s stables, she found Rennie himself in the courtyard grooming both her horse and his. “Beauty’s doing fine.” He pointed to the burn near her tail. “We have kept the salve on it, and it’s nearly healed.”

  “Do you suppose I could ride her?” She wore her blue riding habit just in case.

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll get you a saddle. If you don’t mind, I’ll ride with you.”

  They chose the path by the river, Jane on Beauty and Rennie riding his prize horse, Major. “I cannot believe it’s the same river,” Jane remarked. The last time she rode this trail, the River Hulm was nothing more than a shallow stream that Beauty could cross and hardly get her hooves wet. Now the river ran fast, deep, and near the top of its banks. She would not dare ride across it today.

  “How is your sister?” Rennie inquired as they rode along. “It’s too bad she couldn’t come.”

  Damnation. She knew sooner or later he would ask about Millicent. “My sister is in good health, Lord Rennie. Thank you for asking. She’s just awfully bored because of all the rain and not being able to get out.” She hoped he would now have the good sense to change the subject.

  They rode in silence until Rennie spoke again. “You know I’m deucedly fond of her,” he said in an earnest voice. “Even though—”

  “Even though what?”

  For a long moment, Rennie remained silent. “I proposed, you know. She turned me down.”

  “She did?” Jane was genuinely surprised. “She never said a word.”

 
“Perhaps she thought it wasn’t worth mentioning,” Rennie replied in a pensive voice. “I know she meant well and did her best to be kind, but she likened me to a friendly puppy dog. That rather hurt my feelings.”

  How awful. How could Millicent make such a cutting remark? Jane really didn’t want to cause this kind, compassionate man any grief, but the time had come for honesty. “I know she admires you greatly, but anything beyond that—”

  “I am desperate, Countess, sick with love for her. I know I’m not a romantic figure, but do you think there’s any possibility she could ever like me in a special way?”

  “I do believe she likes you as a friend, Lord Rennie.” This was painful. “I, personally, see in you a man who is mature, compassionate, dependable, and ... oh, my, you have so many excellent qualities it’s impossible to name them all. It would seem, though, that Millicent prefers a ... sort of dashing, handsome, devil-may-care type of man, the kind who could sweep her off her feet and carry her off to his cave, if you understand my meaning.”

  Rennie laughed wryly. “Oh, I understand full well, Countess. I know I’m far from handsome, nor could I ever claim to be dashing or devil-may-care, but ... may I speak honestly?”

  “Please do.”

  “If she could ever find it in her heart to consider a man who loves her dearly, who would lay down his life to protect her, then perhaps I would have a chance.”

  “I do understand. I’m so sorry. If I could wave a magic wand over my sister’s head, I would do so and make her fall instantly, madly in love with you, and that’s because I, for one, am of the opinion she could search the kingdom wide and never find a better man than you. But the problem is—”

  “The problem is, she doesn’t love me.” Rennie sighed. “Well, don’t be sorry. We have no control over matters of the heart. If Millicent doesn’t care for me, there’s nothing you, nor I, nor anyone can do to change her mind. Let’s stop a moment.” They reined in their horses and sat looking at the swollen river. A log came floating by, twisting and turning in the swift, black current. “I don’t like the looks of this. The river is nearly overflowing its banks.”

  “It’s far from the tranquil River Hulm,” Jane replied with a worried note in her voice.

  Rennie pointed across the torrent toward the Twimby’s farm. “If the river overflows, the banks will break on the other side first. That farm will be right in its path.”

  Jane realized she hadn’t seen Meg for several days. Was she all right? She decided that after she and Rennie finished their ride, she would pay a visit across the river.

  When they continued on, Rennie spoke not another word about Millicent, for which Jane was most grateful. On the way back, when they came to the wooden bridge, Jane bid him goodbye. As expected, at sight of the bridge, Beauty performed her usual nervous dance, but with some urging from Jane, the edgy horse finally condescended to trot over the wooden boards.

  Arriving at the farm house, Jane observed that it looked even more dismal than when she saw it the first time. The few chickens, even scragglier than before, wandered around a yard full of thick mud. Jonathan, the twelve-year-old, was halfheartedly shoveling muck from the lean-to stable on the side.

  “Your ladyship!” Meg exclaimed when she opened the door. Little Molly peeked out from behind her skirts. “I am honored. Do come in.”

  Meg looks thinner. Jane bent low and stepped across the threshold. When her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, she saw Edwin Twimby’s empty bed. “Your father?”

  “My dad died two days ago.” Meg’s voice caught as she spoke.

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Thank you, but he was in such pain those last days, even the laudanum wasn’t working anymore. He ...” Tears welled in Meg’s eyes. “We must carry on. Sorry, but I can’t offer you any buttermilk today. The cow’s gone dry.”

  Jane’s heart filled with sympathy for this poor family that had just lost its one remaining parent. “Water will do just fine.” Her eyes strayed to a straw mattress in the corner where Matthew, the seven-year-old, lay pale and drawn, his eyes closed.

  “He’s sick, I’m afraid,” said Meg. “It’s the flu. I’ve been giving him barley water for the fever.”

  Jane knew better than to ask if Matthew had seen the doctor. Of course, he had not. The Twimbys could not afford such a luxury.

  They sat at the old wooden table, little Molly in Meg’s lap, and fell into a comfortable conversation, like old friends. “Do you think the rain has stopped for good?” Meg asked with a worried frown. “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never seen that river so high. If it overflows its banks, I don’t know what we can do, except run for the hills.”

  “If the water starts to rise, you must come to Chatfield Court at once. You would be safe there. It’s higher up.”

  Meg broke into a wide, open smile. “That will be the day! I can just see the look on Mrs. Elton’s face if the four of us show up on your doorstep along with ten chickens, one goat, and Jupiter. Let alone the cows!”

  “You needn’t worry. Don’t forget, I am still the countess.”

  “That reminds me, is there anything new?” Meg inquired, clearly asking in a delicate way if Jane had finally come ’round.

  “Nothing new.” Jane hated to lie, and she wouldn’t if not for Mama. She quickly switched to another subject and went on to describe in detail the terrible fire at the stables. Meg listened breathlessly to her gripping account of how she rescued Beauty. At the end, Meg asked if she knew how the fire had started. “We’re not sure,” Jane told her. She longed to speak the truth—that Beatrice and Percy were responsible—but she knew it was best, at least for the moment, to keep her silence.

  Later, Meg described her father’s passing. “It truly was a blessing when God took him home.”

  Jane listened intently, her heart full of sympathy. “Will you be all right?”

  “I ... am not sure. At least we had a good crop this year, but, of course, with the higher rent—” Meg bit her lip. “Sorry. You have enough problems without me adding mine.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I tried to do something about the rents but I fear it’s out of my hands.” Each time Jane recalled her humiliating visit with Sir Archibald, she felt sick inside. She wished she could wipe it from her memory.

  “Now that you’re here, your ladyship, there is something I ...” Meg shifted little Molly on her lap.

  “You want to tell me something?”

  Meg nodded decisively, as if she’d just made up her mind. “Yes, I do. It’s about Mrs. Elton. I don’t mean to tattle, but I think you should know—”

  “If it’s about Mrs. Elton, then I definitely should know. Do go on.”

  “Before Percy left for London, he and his mother practically tore the mansion apart looking for the Lansdown jewels.”

  “Really?” Jane frowned in puzzlement. “How could they do such a thing when I’m usually there and so is my family?”

  “She’s very sly, that one.” Meg made a face that revealed her dislike. “When she was sure you were not around, she and Percy dug into closets, looked under the beds, scoured the mansion for every possible place you could have hidden the jewels. I don’t think she found them, though.”

  “I know she thinks I took them.”

  “She does, but I know you did not, m’lady.”

  Jane smiled softly. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I know you, and I know you’re a woman of honor and integrity, and you would never do such a thing.”

  If only you knew. No, she had not stolen the jewels, but she had yet to denounce Mama’s sordid scheme, and that most certainly made her not a woman of honor. “I appreciate your telling me about Mrs. Elton. Actually nothing would please me more than if she found the jewels.”

  “Maybe that’s why she went down to London. Maybe she found them and wanted to sell them.”

  “Perhaps. I don’t know what I can do about it right now, but I’m sure all will be resolved, and soon.”


  Why had she just made such a ridiculous statement? She had no idea what was going to happen. She just had a feeling that whatever it was, it would not be good.

  Chapter 16

  As Jane rode back to Rennie’s stables, Meg’s words, I know you’re a woman of honor, kept sounding in her head. What kind of honor would she have if she agreed to Mama’s scheme? Well, she knew the answer to that, and it was none. On the other hand ... She loved her mother dearly and knew her heart would be broken if she didn’t at least try to go along with the lie.

  Dear Lord, what am I going to do?

  Riding Beauty at a walk, she passed the spot by the river where she and Douglas had stopped for their picnic ... and other things. She got a tingling in the pit of her stomach just thinking about how he kissed her, unbuttoned her shirt, pulled aside her chemise, stretched her out in the sunshine before God and the cows. Desire coursed through her body. Despite everything, she still wanted him, wanted a man who said he would never marry, a man who had made it clear he would soon be off to America, alone. Well, she would have nothing more to do with him. As soon as she arrived home, she would inform her mother that no way in the world could she be a party to such a vile, immoral scheme. Furthermore, as soon as the Eltons returned, she would give them the news they were waiting for.

  Something soft brushed her cheek. A raindrop? She held out her palm. Just what they didn’t need—more rain.

  * * * *

  “Douglas!” Rennie, busy at his desk in the library at Lancaster House, looked up in surprise. “Back so soon? I thought you would be gone another week or so.”

  Douglas Cartland, weary after a long journey by horseback, settled himself in one of Rennie’s fine Louis XV gilt chairs and thrust his mud-splattered boots toward the welcoming flames in the marble fireplace. “Your canal is nearly complete, if that’s what you’re thinking of. We finished the tunnel. We’re almost done with the last set of locks. By the way, we used cast iron—much better than stone.”