The Last of Lady Lansdown

by Shirley Kennedy

  “Of course. I knew you would. I so admire your honesty.”

  Jane smiled ruefully. “You would be better off if I had a little less of it, I’m afraid.”

  “No, madam. Rest assured you’ve done the right thing.”

  The next day, a somber Sir Archibald arrived at Lancaster Hall. Carrying the bag of jewels, Jane met him in the library, where she seated herself and laid the bag on the floor. She would choose just the right moment to reveal her astounding news.

  “My dear, you have my sympathy. What a terrible thing. Why, the loss of life in the village of Sudberry alone is unbelievable. So many farms destroyed, too. Whole families simply washed away.”

  Jane returned a sober thank you. Despite the solicitor’s stuffiness and past indifference, she knew he meant his remarks sincerely.

  “You are not to worry. The Lansdown fortune is considerable and will now pass to Ludlow Elton, a fine young man from what I have heard, not like ...” The solicitor caught his indiscretion and cleared his throat. “At any rate, Chatfield Court will be restored. So will your dower house, which, as you doubtless know, was completely destroyed. Also, you can still expect the revenue from the estates in Ireland. They are enough to give you an adequately comfortable life from now on. You will be safe and secure in the knowledge you will have a roof over your head and food on the table for your entire lifetime.”

  Adequately comfortable. Safe and secure. She might as well be dead already. The very thought made her spirits sink to a new low. Poor Sir Archibald actually thought he was cheering her up, so she put a smile on her face and managed an appropriate, “That is very nice to hear.”

  The solicitor sighed. “It’s unfortunate we lost the family jewels, but I suppose they’re buried forever in the muck somewhere.”

  Ah, the perfect opening. Regrets still assailed her, but she knew what she had to do. “I have something to show you, Sir Archibald.” She reached for the cloth bag she’d brought with her and set on the floor. With a touch of the dramatic, she upended the bag and spread the contents on one of the library tables. “Come look, sir. The Lansdown jewels.”

  The solicitor got to his feet and stared in amazement at the glittering sight before him. “Upon my word! I thought they were lost forever.”

  “Fortunately, they were rescued by one of our servants, Meg Twimby.”

  “Astounding!”

  “Rescued,” Jane emphasized. “If not for Meg, the jewels would be buried in the mud forever.”

  Sir Archibald nodded with satisfaction. “I shall see these are returned to Ludlow Elton. Who knows? He might be amenable to giving your servant a small reward.”

  “That would be most kind.” Jane hid her skepticism. An Elton was an Elton. She doubted Meg would ever see so much as a farthing.

  After Sir Archibald’s departure, Jane stopped by to visit her grandmother, who had yet to leave her bed since she arrived at Lancaster Hall. Jane described her conversation with the family solicitor. “I hated to do it, but I turned the jewels over to him. He will see they go to Ludlow Elton, who’s in line to be the next earl.”

  Granny nodded her approval. “You did the right thing. Your mother would be proud of you.”

  The thought of her mother filled her with sorrow. “I miss her so much.”

  “Amelia would be alive today if she hadn’t been so stubborn. There were times that woman was as stupid as a post.”

  “I suppose.” Granny didn’t fool her. She might sound uncaring, but Jane detected the tremor in her voice when she spoke of her only daughter. Time to change the subject. “Mister Cartland has left.”

  “For good?”

  “He’s going to finish Rennie’s canal, and then he’s going to America.”

  “You let him go? I thought you loved him.”

  “Yes, very much but ...” She could not go on.

  “I know he loves you,” Granny said.

  “I suppose he does, but he said we could never be happy together. It’s his pride. He thinks I’m rich, which you know very well I am not. He thinks I love being a countess and living in luxury, and having everybody cater to me.”

  “Well, do you?”

  “No! All I really want in this world are Douglas and my horse.” She allowed herself a small smile. “In that order, he would be pleased to hear.”

  “Well, missy, it appears to me you did not do a very good job of telling him so.”

  “I guess I didn’t.” Jane paused to gather her thoughts. “I became so depressed talking to Sir Archibald. He meant to be kind, telling me the dower house will be rebuilt, but all I can think of now is how miserable my life is going to be, living under the thumb of the Eltons. Ludlow Elton will inherit, but it doesn’t matter which son, they are all awful. Even if they build me a new dower house, I’ll feel trapped and lonely for the rest of my life.”

  “That’s nonsense. You’re bound to find someone else.”

  “Even if I do, he won’t be Douglas. He’s the love of my life, just as Daniel was to you.”

  “Then it seems to me you ought not to spend the rest of your life living in a place you don’t like with people you don’t care for. Life is a gamble at best, so if I were you, I would throw caution to the winds and do what I wanted to do.” Granny raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Doesn’t that make sense?”

  “I suppose,” Jane responded with a listless shrug.

  “Look at what happened to your mother. She didn’t have the courage to take her life in her hands and make the most of it. Instead, at the end, she just sat there like a lump, unable to help herself, waiting to die. And so she did.”

  For a long time, Jane sat mulling Granny’s words. She did not want to end up like her mother. She did want a life of her own. Was it possible? “Ever since Papa sent us the letter, I have wanted to go to America.”

  “Then for God’s sake, go. They won’t call you ‘countess’ in America, but what do you care? I know you. You won’t mind giving up your title and all that folderol.”

  Her mind raced. Why shouldn’t she go? She no longer had her mother to worry about. Millicent was going to marry Lord Rennie and live happily ever after. Granny was welcome to stay right here in Lancaster Hall where she would most certainly be treated like a queen.

  Jane leaped to her feet and gave Granny a hug. “Why didn’t I see it before? You’re right. Why should I stay in a place I don’t like, living a life I detest? I’m going to see Papa. I’m going to America!”

  “Will you tell Douglas?”

  “If I can find him.” She thought a moment. “But what if I can’t? From what I understand, America is an awfully big place.”

  “Then you will just have to take your chances. I certainly would, rather than sit in that dower house for the next fifty or so years, waiting to die.”

  Jane smiled wryly. “You put it so bluntly, but you’re right. I am not going to sit here like a lump for the rest of my life.”

  Jane left her grandmother’s bedchamber with a new sense of resolve. Without question, she was going to America. Would she ever see Douglas again? Her heart ached at the thought she might not—probably would not. Still, as Granny said, life was a gamble and she would just have to take her chances.

  Chapter 20

  The next few weeks, Jane busied herself preparing for her journey. So much to do. Booking the passage, writing to her father to meet her ship in New York, acquiring an entirely new wardrobe to replace the one she lost, saying goodbye to old friends, many of whom thought she, a mere woman, was insane to attempt such a perilous journey alone. She had made up her mind, though, and nothing would dissuade her. After all, at the end of her journey her father would be waiting. That fact alone kept her from changing her mind.

  As for Douglas, she thought of him constantly and desperately wanted him to know that she, too, was going to America. Where was he? She hadn’t heard a word. She decided to write him a letter. What an agonizing task it was. She wanted to tell him he was the only man in the world she could ever
love, yet pride told her not to grovel. After many attempts and crumpled pieces of note paper, she wrote:

  My Dear Mister Cartland,

  I shall soon be sailing to America, leaving title, my so-called “riches,” and just about everything else I own behind, including my beloved Beauty.

  If that makes me “spoiled rotten” as you put it, as well as “quite imperious,” then there is nothing more I can say.

  If fate decrees we meet again someday, I can only hope you will look past your nose and see the woman who gave her heart to you without reservation. You still have it. What more can I say?

  So it’s farewell! I wish you good fortune and hope that someday, somehow, we will meet again upon those far distant shores.

  With utmost kind regards,

  —Jane Lansdown

  Having no address, she asked Rennie about Douglas’ whereabouts.

  “You might try sending it to the Blue Bull Inn. I believe he’s there, but then again, I’m not sure. They’re building a new canal farther north, so maybe that’s where he is.”

  “Could he already have gone to America?”

  Rennie shrugged. “Who knows? I suppose he could be halfway across the Atlantic by now.”

  With an aching heart, she sent the letter to the Blue Bull Inn. Douglas might not ever receive it, but what else could she do?

  One day Bruta came to see her. Jane greeted her cordially. “Are you still planning on going to America?”

  Her former lady’s maid nodded briskly. “Yes, I am, madam. I’ve heard you are, too.”

  “You heard correctly.”

  “Then I shall be your lady’s maid.”

  “But ... but ...” Jane launched into an explanation as to why such an arrangement would not be a good idea. She planned to go alone and could manage quite well, thank you. She was giving up her title and had no need of a lady’s maid or any kind of servant whatsoever.

  Bruta listened with arms folded across her chest, her chin set with determination. After Jane finished, she declared, “I don’t care if you won’t be a countess anymore. You still must dress properly, and from what I have observed of your careless habits, you certainly cannot cope on your own.”

  Jane continued to argue, but somewhere along the way she realized she had lost the battle. But had she really lost? She had not looked forward to making the journey alone. Bruta could actually be of great help. Not only that, her attitude toward Bruta had done a turnaround since the lady’s maid confessed her unwilling part in procuring the oil of pennyroyal. Through new eyes, Jane perceived Bruta as a hardworking, loyal servant. She might lack many of the social graces, but Jane would be lucky to have her. “Very well, you’re hired for the passage. As to what will happen when we reach our destination, I’m not sure. I can’t promise a thing.”

  Bruta broke into a satisfied smile. “We shall worry about that when we get there, m’lady.”

  Jane started to protest she would not be called m’lady anymore, then changed her mind. She would be wasting her breath. As always, Bruta would do as she pleased.

  On the day before Jane was to begin her journey, Meg Twimby came visiting again. The former servant wore a new dress and new shoes. Her face shone with excitement. “Wait until you hear my news, m’lady,”

  “Well, do sit down and tell me.”

  “Sir Archibald came to see me. You would never guess who came with him.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It was Ludlow Elton, the new Earl of Lansdown. He wanted to express his gratitude that I saved the Lansdown jewels. Can you imagine? The earl himself came to my cousin’s cottage. He was ever so kind, and I must say, downright humble when he said he was aware I didn’t have to give the jewels back, that I easily could have kept them for myself with no one the wiser.”

  “I’m glad, Meg. I know we did the right thing.”

  “I haven’t got to the best part. Listen to this, m’lady. He gave me a reward of five hundred pounds! Think of it!” Meg beamed with happiness. “I keep wanting to pinch myself. I was so worried, but now, thanks to his lordship, we shall have plenty of money for food and clothing, and we can buy another farm.”

  Words failed her. Jane threw her arms around her former servant and gave her a hug. “You have no idea how relieved I am. Now I can go to America without a care in the world.” Well, almost. She remembered Douglas.

  “What about Beauty?” Meg asked.

  “I must leave her behind.” Jane felt an acute sense of loss, thinking she was about to lose her beautiful horse. “When I booked passage on the Columbia, the captain refused to take Beauty. The ship is too small, you see ...” Her voice broke and she could not go on.

  “Oh, madam, I am so sorry.”

  “I keep telling myself she’ll be in good hands. With Timothy around, she’ll always receive the best of care and, hopefully, when I arrive in America, I shall buy a new horse.” She smiled. “I will never find another Beauty, but they do have horses over there.”

  When the visit was over, Meg departed with a grin on her face. “Thank you for all your help, Lady Lansdown.”

  “No, don’t call me that anymore.” Jane shook her head decisively. “I most definitely will not bring my title to America. As of today, you have seen the last of Lady Lansdown.”

  Dressed in her new brown wool redingote with matching hat and muff, Jane caught a sniff of salty sea air as she and Bruta stepped from Lord Rennie’s coach onto the dock at Liverpool. With eager eyes, she took in the sights of one of the busiest ports in England: docks teeming with activity, a forest of masts stretching as far as the eye could see. Directly ahead, workers were loading the Columbia, a small ship of two hundred eighty-two tons, which would carry her from Liverpool to New York. The sight of the graceful ship caused excitement to course through her veins, tinged with an indelible sadness. She was leaving England forever. Only yesterday she had bid Granny and Millicent a tearful goodbye, given Beauty her last carrot and kiss on her nose. She missed them already. When, if ever, would she see them again? How hard this was—uprooting her whole life, leaving family behind, plus every friend she ever had, perhaps forever. And Douglas. She felt a wretched sense of loss whenever she thought of him, which was most of the time. He had never answered her letter.

  A crazy thought popped into her head. Perhaps he was here! Her pulse quickened in anticipation. Perhaps he had received her letter. Perhaps Rennie had told him the name of the ship and he had hastened to Liverpool to meet her. Eagerly, her gaze swept the docks. Nothing. You fool. Her luck could never be that good. She might have known.

  Soon after the Columbia sailed from Liverpool, the pitch and roll of the small ship caused an increasing queasiness in Jane’s stomach. At first she ignored it, but when a wretched wave of nausea struck, she was forced to rush to the railing where, in decidedly unladylike fashion, she lost her breakfast. By this time, she felt so terrible that she did not care for her dignity and could only groan in misery as Bruta helped her below to her cabin. She spent the next five days lying prone on her bed, so sick from constant nausea that she feared at first she would die, later fearing she would not.

  What would it matter if she died? She lay in a state of utter misery, picturing how they would sew her poor, ravaged body into a canvas bag and dump it into the sea. Who would care? Certainly not Douglas. He wouldn’t even know she was dead, and wouldn’t care if he did know. Of course, she looked forward to seeing her father again—if, by some remote chance, she happened to survive—but still, she knew in her heart she would mourn her lost love forever and never be truly happy again.

  At least she had Bruta. Thank God for Bruta, who suffered not a trace of a queasy stomach and devoted herself to giving her suffering mistress the utmost of tender care. “You must eat,” Bruta admonished. “I shall bring you a bowl of broth.”

  “Oh, God, no!” Jane moaned and declared, “If you mention food again, I shall die.”

  “You are not going to die, madam.” Bruta laid a cool compress across Ja
ne’s forehead. “You will soon start feeling better.”

  “No, I won’t. I shall never be well again.”

  Bruta was right. After a few days, the nausea disappeared. Though weak as a kitten, Jane felt well enough to climb to the deck and clutch the railing. She breathed deeply of the fresh salt air, thinking nothing had ever smelled so good. Even so, she could not shake her feeling of sadness. She leaned over the railing to watch a school of dolphins leaping alongside the ship. They appeared to be smiling. She wished she could smile like the dolphins, but how could she? She was haunted by the constant remembrance that Douglas was gone forever. She would never see him again.

  Even the thought of seeing her father could not lift her from her doldrums.

  One bright morning, after weeks at sea, the Columbia sailed into the sparkling waters of New York harbor. Despite the seasickness she’d suffered and her heartache over Douglas, Jane stood on the deck and watched with high anticipation as her ship approached the South Street docks. America at last! She would see her father again. She would get a new start. Someday, perhaps, she would forget Douglas Cartland ever existed.

  But not now, she thought, hating herself for having such dreary thoughts on what was supposed to be a glorious day.

  A sparse crowd stood waiting on the dock. Was her father among them? She hoped word had spread quickly that a ship had arrived. She searched for a tall, stoop-shouldered figure with white hair. No, she didn’t see him. Again her gaze skimmed over the crowd, this time catching a glimpse of a man with dark hair, holding the reins of his horse. She could not see his face clearly, but something about him ... the way he was standing—at ease, yet confident and alert. That horse ... it looked like Beauty. In fact, exactly like Beauty.

  It cannot be ...

  The ship edged close to the dock. Crew members tossed thick ropes ashore, to be tied to the stanchions. Closer now, with disbelieving eyes, Jane looked at the man again.

  It was Douglas Cartland, and the horse whose reins he held was Beauty.