by Anna Small
“Whose clothes are these?”
The maid paused before setting Jane’s bonnet on a rack beside eight others. “Why, they’re yours, of course, milady.” She kept the pelisse. “I’ll see to this dust, milady. I’ll have it returned to you quickly.”
“What is your name?”
“Bridges, ma’am.”
“What is your first name?”
The girl paused. “It’s Sarah, ma’am, but everyone calls me Bridges.”
“Are you my…own maid?” The girl nodded. “Then I will call you Sarah.” They were about the same age. Under other circumstances, the serious-looking girl and she might have been close friends. “And, please, don’t call me milady. I’m not used to it.”
“Mrs. Blakeney, then?” Sarah’s gray eyes twinkled.
“No, Miss Brooke.” Sarah stared at her vaguely, and she nearly choked over her own gaffe. “I mean, Mrs. Blakeney will do just fine.”
“Shall I draw you a bath, Mrs. Blakeney?”
“Yes, please.”
The maid departed. Jane attempted to relax on a sofa but wasn’t used to the extravagant furnishings. The back was too hard and the arm of it so narrow her elbow slipped off. She’d been awed at her first visit to Amelia’s new home—the lavish décor and multiple rooms reminded Jane of a palace. When Rosalind married a year later, her new house with the wealthy Mr. Shelbourne was even grander. Had it not been for the magnificently appointed music room with a new Broadwood pianoforte, she’d have hated it. The echoing halls and numerous chambers made her feel lost in a tangled maze.
But neither home had prepared her for Falconbury House.
Sarah returned as quietly as she had left. “Your bath is ready, milady—I mean, Mrs. Blakeney.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” She followed her into a smaller room. Perhaps after a bath, she would feel more like herself. Without Frederick’s presence, the house was almost frightening in its grandeur. She knew she belonged since she was married to him, but everything seemed foreign. The servants knew; they’d barely hidden their veiled derision that their master had married a country girl.
“Allow me, Mrs. Blakeney.” Sarah undressed her, and Jane was quickly up to her neck in the copper tub. “I’ll wash your hair and leave you to rest. You’ve had a trying journey.”
The turmoil of the last few days seeped from her pores as she relaxed. Jane leaned back against the thick towel Sarah had thoughtfully placed behind her head. She closed her eyes and inhaled the tuberose and jasmine scent of the soap bubbles dotting the water.
“I haven’t minded too much. I’m not used to traveling.”
“Nor am I, Mrs. Blakeney. I grew up a stone’s throw from here. My parents worked for the Cartwright family nearby.”
“Do you enjoy living in London, Sarah?”
“I don’t know anything beyond the city. I’ve seen paintings of the countryside, but not a real farm.” The strong fingers massaged her scalp, forcing out the last remnants of stress from her body. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a farm, Mrs. Blakeney.”
“My parents live in the country.” An unexpected lump of tears rose in her throat. “I prefer it to town. I can hardly wait to see Dornley Park.”
“I’ve heard it’s lovely. And, of course, you will be with his lordship there.” She patted Jane’s shoulder. “You have a rest, Mrs. Blakeney. I’ll come back in a while and help you dress.”
“Thank you,” Jane said drowsily. Sarah closed the door behind her. A few minutes later, it opened again. “Another moment, please, Sarah.”
“Bridges has gone. I am here.”
The cool, clipped voice startled Jane. She opened her eyes and stared at the stranger who’d walked into her chamber unannounced. Though petite, the elegantly dressed woman conveyed a sense of authority. Her red hair stood out starkly against the simplicity of her black dress. She wore a brooch containing a lock of black hair, so like Frederick’s hair. She gave a slight, almost mocking curtsy.
“You must be Jane.”
Jane covered herself with her arms but only succeeded in sloshing water over the edge of the tub and onto the carpet. The towel was out of reach. The woman snatched it off the chair, deftly snapping it open. Jane stepped out of the tub.
“Who…who are you?” She quickly wrapped the towel under her arms. Water dripped steadily down her legs, soaking the carpet where she stood. She realized too late she should not have asked. The mourning gown and severe hairstyle, besides the pallid complexion and hollow-looking eyes, were evidence enough.
The woman’s auburn eyebrows rose on her forehead like a slash against her white skin. “I am Alice Blakeney. Tell me, Jane—how are you enjoying my chamber?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Your chamber?” It didn’t seem like Frederick to do something as callous as forcing a widow from her own room. “There must be some mistake. I will move at once.” She looked around for something to wear, but everything was unfamiliar. Her trunk had not been brought up yet, and she didn’t know how her new clothes were organized in the spacious dressing room. Thank goodness, she had Sarah to help her navigate through the wardrobes and chests, but Sarah wasn’t there.
“Oh, there’s no need to move now.” But Alice’s tone belied her words. “As the new countess, I am certain you will do as you see fit.”
Jane tore open the doors of the other wardrobes, looking for a corset, petticoats…anything. “I have no intention of changing things, Alice. I’m sure you have everything the way it ought to be.” The towel hung awkwardly on her, and she gripped it with her hands. She swept a heavy wet strand of hair from her face. “Frederick was looking forward to our meeting. He…he thinks we will be as sisters.”
“I have three younger sisters, all of them intolerable creatures. How many sisters have you, Jane?”
“Two.”
“Well.” Alice opened a chest and handed Jane some crisply starched under garments, “Apparently, neither of us is lacking for the company of sisters.” She nodded sharply. “Are you going to continue to drip water all over the carpet?” She clucked her tongue. “You needn’t be shy with me, Jane. Bridges will not be along for several minutes.”
She seemed to wait for a response. Jane removed the towel, her face burning from embarrassment. Except for when she was very young, she had not been helped into her undergarments. She pulled the chemise over her head, her hair tangling in the ribbon ties. Alice quickly helped her to straighten it out and fastened the ties, her eyes sharply appraising her so Jane felt like a prize cow at the Weston farmer’s market.
“You certainly hide it well enough,” Alice remarked.
“What do I hide?”
“The fact you are carrying the Blakeney heir.”
Jane swallowed her outrage and disgust when she remembered Alice was in mourning. She composed herself before replying.
“I am not pregnant.”
She went to a wardrobe and removed the first gown she touched. It was a pink muslin dress with three flounces of wide lace above the hem. On any other occasion, she’d have delighted in such a dress, but now, she mechanically pulled it over her head. As soon as she had it on, she realized she’d forgotten her corset.
“I beg your pardon.” Alice’s smirk showed little remorse. “I naturally assumed. The marriage was so hastily arranged, and Frederick hardly knew you. I was amazed as anyone when he announced he was returning to town with a bride in tow.”
“We met a few months ago.” Jane tried not to rise to Alice’s accusations. “We were both guests at the house of a mutual friend.”
“Ah, yes. The boorish Robert Parker and his gouty leg! What is the daughter’s name? The vapid chit with the mass of yellow hair? I met her at Dornley Park a few years ago. Chattered incessantly, and not a trace of breeding, for all that her mother was third cousin to a duke.”
“Lucinda,” Jane replied, nearly writhing with embarrassment for her friend. Poor Lucinda, to be judged so harshly.
“Yes, Lucinda.” She shuddere
d. “And the son—Jeremy, I believe. Frederick has always complained about that person’s manners. He caused such a scandal one season he’s never dared shown his face again in the best circles.”
“Jeremy Parker is a carefree person,” Jane said in his defense, though she didn’t know why she should have to make any excuses to Alice.
“I’m sure he is,” Alice replied coolly. “So—you were with the Parkers. What is your connection to them?”
Jane met Alice’s sharp look with her own steady gaze. “Colonel Parker is my father’s friend. I spent part of the summer with his family. Frederick was also a guest.”
The shadowy look on Alice’s face cleared. “Ah! I understand now. Your father was in the same regiment.”
“No, he was not.”
Again, Alice’s eyebrows darted upward. “If he’s not a soldier, what does your father do?”
A wash of heat spread from Jane’s chest to her forehead. She’d always been proud of her father’s profession as genteel farmer. She bit her lip. “He is a gentleman.”
“I’m sure every lady wishes to call her father one.” Her small eyes seemed to be studying her. Jane felt rather like a beetle trapped in a child’s jar. “No doubt, your introduction to the future Earl of Falconbury was a welcome relief to your family.”
“I was betrothed to Frederick when he was Colonel Blakeney,” Jane replied, trying to keep her voice from wavering. Oh, to have a smidge of Rosalind’s sharp wit right now! “His station had nothing to do with my loving him. I would have married him if he were a…a farmer, or a shopkeeper.”
Alice’s laugh reverberated in Jane’s head. “A shopkeeper! Heaven provide for us!” She motioned for Jane to turn and laced up the back of the dress, swiping Jane’s long wet hair over her shoulder. “I hope you do not take offense for my speaking so bluntly. I have known Frederick a very long time.” She tugged at the gown’s loose bodice. “He should have consulted me when it came to your clothes.” Sighing, she shook her head while she plucked at the sides of the gown. “The modiste will have to take in all of your gowns. You haven’t much to fill them out, have you?”
Unsure of how to reply, Jane was relieved when Sarah came in. Her smile quickly faded when she saw Alice.
“Come and help your mistress,” Alice said coldly, stepping back. “You may need to start all over again, as she has neglected her underpinnings.”
Avoiding Alice’s gaze, Jane allowed Sarah to undress her and corset her tightly. The gown was replaced, and she sat before the dressing table, where Sarah fixed her hair so quickly Jane hardly noticed.
Confusion swam about her mouth as if she had swallowed something bitter. Frederick had always spoken so sympathetically about his sister-in-law she was convinced of her tender heart and manners. She met Sarah’s gaze, noting the poor girl’s tight lips and knitted brows.
“All done, milady.” She exited before Jane could thank her.
Alice headed for the door. “I will show you the rest of the house. There are certain rooms which are restricted, so you would be wise to know them.”
“Why are they restricted?”
Alice’s lips curled in a faint sneer. “Because they are.”
Jane slipped on her wedding shoes and winced at the pinching toes. But it was no matter; she would find the rest of her shoes tomorrow. While Alice pointed out various doors Jane could or could not open, she couldn’t help but compare herself to Alice.
Where Jane was tall and slender, Alice’s petite frame was offset with a full bosom no amount of widow’s weeds could undermine. Her pale skin looked ethereal, while Jane detested her own constantly blushing cheeks. Her new dress, while the height of fashion on anyone else, hung on her slim shoulders. The embroidered bodice sagged. Evidently, Frederick had exaggerated her endowments to the modiste.
As they walked downstairs, several servants and footmen rushed between the rooms with trays of food. Some pushed silver carts loaded with decanters of spirits. Fresh flower arrangements dotted every table and sideboard, and Jane’s stomach rumbled at the scents of baked goods wafting through the air. The last thing she’d eaten was a leftover piece of bread Frederick had toasted at the inn.
Alice gave orders to one of the servants, a flustered older woman who resembled a chicken as she bobbed her head at nearly every word Alice spoke.
“Is dining always this involved?” Jane couldn’t recall the last time her mother’s handful of servants took more than a few hours to prepare supper. But then again, Hartleigh was by no means on the same scale as Falconbury House.
“We’re having a small dinner party tonight,” Alice said dismissively, inspecting an elaborate display of white roses. She snapped off a broken bud and handed it to a footman without even looking at him. “This house is still in mourning, so it will just be close friends. I have some jewels you may borrow, until Frederick gives you the Blakeney set.”
Her doubtful look implied she didn’t think very much of Jane wearing the Blakeney jewels.
“I don’t like to wear a lot of jewelry,” Jane began, but Alice cut her off by lifting Jane’s hand. She examined her wedding ring with a sharp eye.
“A woman would not need a lot of jewelry if she possessed a ring like yours. So, this is the fabled Pandora diamond. I’d heard he’d bought it for you. You are quite the envy of the ton, my dear country sister.”
Jane hid her hand in the folds of her skirt. “I was surprised when he gave it to me.”
“No doubt, your mother was quite impressed.”
“I do not recall her mentioning it.”
“I’m sure it’s not every day a country girl receives such a ring.” Her hawklike stare seemed to penetrate Jane’s innermost being, as if to solve a mystery of why a man like Frederick would waste his time on someone like her.
“I agree I am extremely fortunate to have married Frederick, but I do not wish to comment on his gifts to me.” Despite her best efforts to match Alice’s bold tone, the inevitable fire spread across her face.
Alice focused her attention on the floral arrangement. Jane feared she would explode with pent-up tension.
“You must accompany me tomorrow to the home of my dear friend Lady Brewster. Frederick wants you to make as many acquaintances as possible, so you shan’t be lonely in his absence.”
Amazed how Alice could change from cold enemy to friendly hostess in a second, Jane almost dismissed the latter part of her words. Her anxiety returned, which she sensed was exactly the reaction Alice sought. “Why will he be absent?”
Alice’s lips curled in a mocking smile. “My dear, have you no knowledge of how a gentleman lives in London? Why, he has his club and dinner parties and other social obligations to keep him occupied. You did not think he would spend every evening at home, did you?”
Although she had, Jane shook her head. “But, surely, during the day he will be gone. He must come home to…to eat supper and sleep.”
“That’s why he has Henry’s old rooms at White’s,” she said imperiously. “When Parliament was in session, I rarely saw Henry. You’ll be wise to find other occupations of your time than waiting for your husband to entertain you. Fortunately, I will be happy to show you about town. Then, when you do see him, you will have plenty to talk about.”
“I didn’t know he would be so busy.” Jane fought her growing anxiety.
Alice waved her words away with fluttering fingers. “Well, how could you know? Your father never belonged to a club, did he?”
Alice was using every way possible to irritate her, but Jane would not rise to it. “My father seldom comes to town and would have no use for a club. But it matters little, as we intend to stay in town only until the session ends. And then we will go to Dornley Park.”
“Ah, yes—the specter of the session’s inevitable end!” Alice laughed, but it was dry and humorless. “I lost count of how many times Henry dangled the promise of Dornley Park before me, but something always came up, and we did not go. I cannot imagine Frederick leaving so
quickly, either. He never told you how much he loves town? He was the toast of the season last year, and the most eligible bachelor. I assure you, there are many broken hearts from St. James’s to Windsor Park because Frederick Blakeney has taken a wife.”
Alice described a stranger. Surely, he’d have mentioned these things. She’d naturally assumed he loved the country as much as she did. Her heart thudded, and she carefully studied an arrangement of lilies on a sideboard.
“I had no idea,” she said at last.
“Apparently, there is much you do not know about him.” Alice tapped her fingers against her chin. “Tell me, Jane,” she continued, “have you any taste for embroidery or netting purses? Lady Brewster and I were going to work on ours tomorrow.”
“I do not sew.” Alice’s revelations had done enough damage. How could she contemplate anything as mundane as sewing?
“Perhaps I can teach you. You’re going to need something to occupy yourself in this big house.” Alice regarded her sharply. “You might have a rest before our little party. You do look peaked. I suspect your long journey was very tiring.”
Jane curtsied, grateful to leave Alice’s artificial smile and faked concern. She wandered through the grand house until she found the main hall. The paintings in the gallery held no interest for her, and she forgot she’d wanted to study them. She reached the second floor and spent another ten minutes before she found her chamber again. Sarah was in her dressing room, and her guarded look was replaced by a quick smile when she saw Jane.
“Why was Alice put out of her rooms?” Jane asked. “I’d like to move to another chamber to avoid any hurt feelings.”
Sarah quirked an eyebrow. “These were not Lady Alice’s rooms, Mrs. Blakeney. These were the guest chambers used in the old days, when his lordship’s mother was alive. His lordship had them newly furnished for your arrival. Lady Alice is still in the same chamber she shared with his lordship, God rest his soul.”