It was only when the door closed rather firmly that Saybrook permitted himself a broad grin.
* * *
Rain had been coming down in torrents for the past few days. The mood in the schoolroom had been restless, for both Jane and Peter disliked being cooped up inside. So when Jane rose and saw that the downpour had finally ceased, she was determined to venture out for a quick ride, despite the fact that the day was still dark and overcast.
She threw a cloak over her habit and hurried down to the stables.
Henry eyed the skies doubtfully. "You are likely to get a soaking, Miss."
"I shall make it short, I promise. And a little water will not cause any harm. Besides, I must check the mill pond. I have noticed that it has a tendency to flood during rains."
Sure enough, as she rode by the pond she noticed that it looked dangerously high. She must find the steward and tell him that he must send some men to open the sluice gates. Turning her mount back towards home, she set into a smart canter despite the mud. There really was no time to waste if a flood was to be avoided.
She handed her reins to a waiting groom and started back to the manor, composing a sharp lecture for Mr. Fielding—wasn't it his job to keep an eye on potential problems? He should have been aware of the danger.
Just as she came to the graveled drive she spotted a group of workmen walking toward the fields. Deciding that it might take her too much time to locate the steward at this hour, Jane took matters into her own hands.
"John," she called to leader of the group. "You and your men must go right away to the mill pond to open the gates."
The man looked momentarily surprised, but then he nodded at her tone of command. "Yes, Miss."
Satisfied, Jane entered the house.
* * *
Saybrook caught a glimpse of the scene from the morning room where he was taking a cup of coffee and reading the paper. With a muffled oath, he slammed down his cup and raced outside. "Where are you men going?" he shouted.
They stopped in their tracks. The foreman turned to face him. "Why, my lord, Miss Langley told us to go open the sluice gates."
"Have you forgotten who gives orders here?" he replied in an icy tone.
The man stared at his boots. "No, my lord. It's just that recently..." He trailed off in confusion.
"Yes, I gather that. But in the future you will act on my word, or that of Mr. Fielding," he said less sharply. His temper was still sorely tried, but he regretted having vented it on those who were not to blame. "I have already taken care of the matter," he added. "You may return to the work you were doing before."
He turned on his heel and reentered the house. Brushing past a startled Glavin he threw open the library door. "Send Miss Langley to me," he roared at the butler. "At once!"
When Jane entered the room, still attired in her damp habit, Saybrook was pacing up and down in front of his desk. "What in God's name did you think you were doing, ordering those men to the river?" he snapped.
"With the storm of the past few days, if they didn't attend to the sluices, one of the fields would be flooded. Your steward should have noticed..."
"If they had opened the gates, more than a field would have been harmed—I ordered some men to strengthen the bridge below the pond first thing this morning, before we were to open the sluices," stormed Saybrook. "If those men had done as you ordered, people would have been killed!"
Jane's mouth flew open. "I didn't know!"
"Forgive me for not informing you, Miss Langley," he replied acidly. "Somehow, I am under the strange delusion that I make the decisions at Highwood. Is that clear?"
Jane looked a little guilty, and yet her reply was unapologetic. "In this case, yes."
"Bloody hell," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Do I have your promise not to take estate matters into your own hands from now on?"
The chin stuck out even farther. "Perhaps."
"What! Why you... you impudent..." Saybrook's temper, frayed by the fear for his men's safety, snapped. With lightening quickness he moved to Jane's side and, before she could react, grabbed her about the waist. Kicking a chair around to face him, he sat down and put her over his knee. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession his hand came down on her backside.
"Let me go, you... you beast!"
"If you insist on behaving like a spoiled brat, you shall be treated like one." She was struggling in his grasp and the feel of her soft stomach and thighs felt rather interesting on his legs. Though his temper was gone, he held her tight, ignoring the flailing of her fists. Finally she managed to free herself.
"How dare you treat me like that!" she cried as she straightened her dress. "No one has ever spanked me before!"
"A grave mistake." He regarded her calmly. "For I'm sure you have richly deserved it on more occasions than this."
"Oooohhh!" She was so angry that words eluded her. In frustration she stamped her foot.
At that, the corners of Saybrook's mouth twitched uncontrollably. In another moment he was laughing aloud.
"Oh, do give off," she snapped. But the absurdity of it all was clear to her as well. In spite of her pique, she found herself joining his laughter.
"I'm afraid that yet again I have behaved very badly, my lord," she said as she regained her composure. "I apologize for my actions and assure you that I shall refrain from giving orders which are rightfully yours to give. Is that satisfactory?"
"Do I hear correctly? Has Miss Langley admitted to error?"
"I should hope that I, too, have the grace to admit when I am wrong. And I would appreciate it if you would inform me of my defects of character in a less demonstrative manner,"
Saybrook had risen from the chair and he inclined a slight bow in her direction. "Agreed." He paused for a bit. "And I would hope that if you feel something is amiss at Highwood you will bring it to my attention."
She looked at him in surprise. "Would you pay it any heed?" she challenged.
"I would be a fool not to. You have good sense and a discerning eye—you were right about the pond."
"But I am merely a woman."
"I fail to see what that has to do with having good sense and a discerning eye. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see how the men are coming."
He strode out of the library, leaving Jane with more than enough food for thought for the day.
Chapter 6
Jane picked up a pile of fragrant pressed linens.
"Are you sure?" asked Mrs. Fairchild. "You certainly aren't expected to do such work."
"I don't mind, truly. Annie will have more than enough to catch up with when she returns." The laundry maid had been given time off to nurse a sick child and the week's wash sat neatly starched and folded, but needed to be put away. Jane had caught Mrs. Fairchild struggling with a mass of sheets and had promptly relieved the older woman of her burden.
"Peter is down at the stables bringing his horse a treat from the kitchen, so I'm quite at leisure," she smiled.
After climbing the stairs, she turned down a hallway into the wing of the house she had never entered before. One, two, three, four—she counted the doors and entered a small room with huge pine linen presses that served the bedrooms of the wing. She added her pile to the others stacked in the nearest one and carefully closed the door to keep the lavender scent of the sachets locked inside.
As she walked back, she took her time, glancing in through the open doors at the carved furniture and rich fabrics of the various rooms. Each had its own color palette and motif yet all reflected a hand of restraint and elegance. Clearly someone with taste had overseen the decorating of Highwood.
Who, she wondered?
As she passed a closed door, she found herself wondering what Saybrook's rooms looked like. Were they dark and overbearing, or as pleasant as these? Did his bed have a canopy. Was it an heirloom four poster—she caught herself with a start and nearly blushed. How improper to even think about! Besides, she was still out of sorts with him over his hig
h-handed treatment of her.
The nerve of him to actually spank her! It was probably a good thing that since that scene a few days ago she had barely seen him....
Suddenly, something caught her eye. She stopped abruptly, backed up a few steps and entered a small conservatory whose tall leaded windows reminded her so much of her own home that she felt a catch in her throat. But it was the pianoforte that had caught her eye. It was a grand one, gleaming ebony in the afternoon light, its keys beckoning.
Without thinking, she seated herself and began to play. There was a pile of sheet music on the stand but she began from memory, her fingers alive with the pleasure of playing once again. She hadn't realized how much she had missed it. All sense of time was forgotten as she lost herself in the emotions of her favorite Mozart sonata. Finally, she came to the end and let out a sigh, drained yet happy from the demands of the music.
"That was exquisite."
The voice was hardly more than a whisper. Jane whirled around to see Saybrook leaning in the doorway.
"Oh," she gulped and made to jump up.
"No, please," he said. "Do you know the Sonata in G minor?"
She shook her head. "It is still too difficult for me, especially the middle passage."
He came across the room swiftly and seated himself beside her. "That I cannot believe. It is certainly no more demanding than the piece you just played."
His fingers began to move over the keys, and Jane noticed how long and graceful they were. And as she listened to the notes, she became aware that they were also strong, and capable of great sensitivity. It was her turn to be amazed. She sat mesmerized until he finished.
"My lord, you play beautifully!" she breathed. "I never would have expected that a gentleman...." She faltered.
"That a gentleman would play the piano?" he finished. His lips compressed in an expression of bitterness. "Yes, I know. It is not considered manly, so my father told me—many times."
"But it is wonderful! You have a real gift." Impulsively she covered his left hand, which still rested on the keys, with her own. Somehow, she wanted to brush away the hurt she saw in him. "As if anyone could question your..." She stopped dead. What in heaven's name was she doing? She snatched away her hand and covered her embarrassment with a cough.
"I must be getting back. Mrs. Fairchild must be wondering what's become of me."
Saybrook was staring at her with an unfathomable look on his face. As she tried to rise, his hand grasped her firmly by the elbow.
"I really must go, my lord," she whispered, not daring to meet his eyes.
"Enough of me," he said. "It is you, Miss Langley, I wish to discuss. Such as where you learned to play like that."
"I... I told you. I was educated with a squire's daughter..."
His grip tightened. "Do you take me for a gudgeon? What country squire has a music master such as that? What is his name? Where does he live?"
"It is none of your concern!" she cried.
"Indeed it is! You are employed to look after my ward. I have every right to know your background."
Jane's mind was a blur of panic. All the carefully rehearsed lines were forgotten in the face of his steely gaze. Desperately she sought for something to say. All she could think of was the truth.
"Please sir, I cannot tell you that." To her consternation, she felt tears in her eyes. "I assure you there is nothing in my background that would make me unfit to be Peter's governess. It's just that...." She paused, wondering whether to go on. Saybrook's eyes had never left her and she knew he would demand more. "You see, I've run away from my father. I would prefer it if no one knows where I am from. I feel safer that way."
"Why?"
Jane took a deep breath. "He wished to force me into a marriage I did not want."
Saybrook's hand slipped from her arm. She was surprised to see his brow furrow and a look of pain cross his features. "One should be free to marry whom one chooses," he said slowly.
Though Jane was free from his grasp she made no move to leave. "That is a strange opinion for you to hold, sir. I thought Society expected those of your station to marry for... practical reasons."
He gave a bitter laugh. "You are correct. But that doesn't make it right."
She looked at him with sudden understanding. "You don't like having to do what's expected of you."
This time his laugh was real. "And neither, Miss Langley, do you."
There was a moment of silence.
"Perhaps I could speak to your father for you."
Jane's eyes widened in amazement at the offer. The idea was nothing short of intriguing—it would be an interesting match. However, she merely shook her head. "You do not know my father."
"And you, perhaps, do not realize how persuasive a title can be to a father."
Jane repressed a small smile. "I'm not sure it would matter in this case. But I thank you for your generous offer. It is truly most kind of you."
"You have only to ask if you reconsider."
This time he made no move to stop her as she rose. However he thrust his handkerchief in her hand. "Wipe your eyes before you go back. I am sorry for upsetting you. I shall not press you further on the matter," he said rather gently. "And please feel free to come play whenever you wish."
As Jane reached the door, she turned. "Sir, would it be alright with you if I teach Peter to play?"
Saybrook looked startled. "If he wishes."
"I think it would be a splendid idea. And perhaps you might help him, too."
She didn't miss the spark of interest in his eyes. "I know you have many more pressing matters to attend to since you spend so much of your time locked away in your library. But maybe you could spare an odd moment or two. I know Peter would be in raptures."
"Perhaps," he answered gruffly.
As Jane made her way slowly back to the main part of the house she reflected that she was not the only one hiding deep, painful secrets. Under the influence of the music, Saybrook had let his mask of icy hauteur slip, giving her a glimpse of a vastly different person than he normally presented to the world. Why did he wish to appear cold and unfeeling when he wasn't that way at all? she wondered. She had thought that men had all the freedom in the world to be whom they chose. A surge of empathy for him welled up within her. They were more alike than he knew!
She dabbed once more at her eyes with the heavy silk handkerchief to remove any last vestige of tears. It smelled faintly of bay rum and something else she couldn't put a name on—it sent a tingle up her spine. She fingered the large embroidered "S" at one of the corners, then carefully folded it and put it in her pocket.
* * *
The wrong note rang out loud and jarring.
"No, no, you must spread your fingers like this," corrected Jane as she positioned Peter's fingers on the keys. "Try it again."
This time the boy completed the simple tune without a mishap.
"Well done, Peter," she laughed.
A slow clapping made them both turn around.
"Yes, bravo," smiled Saybrook from where he was lounging against the doorway. "You've made great progress."
"Oh, Uncle Edward, listen to this. I can also play a sea chantey," cried Peter, and he began to pick out a simple melody, making only two or three mistakes.
"I see we have a prodigy in the making," said Saybrook dryly as he came and sat down on a corner of the bench. "Have you learned this duet? It was the first piece my music master taught my sister and me." He showed the boy one part, then began to play his own melody.
Peter laughed in delight. "Oh, that's ripping. Can we do it again?"
Jane had slipped off the bench to make room for the marquess and now stood watching the two dark heads bent over the keyboard. A warm smile stole across her face. Saybrook looked up for a moment and caught her look. He smiled back at her before returning his attention to the boy and the music.
Jane noted how some of the small lines of worry around his eyes had been erased, how he looked even mo
re handsome now that the look of cold boredom had been replaced by sunnier emotions.
"Excuse me, my lord." Glavin stood in the doorway. "Cook sends word that supper is ready."
"Thank you. Tell her we are coming."
"Sir, just one more time," coaxed Peter.
Saybrook grabbed the boy around the waist like a sack of grain, setting off a fit of giggles. "Enough, brat," he laughed. "Cook will ring a peal over our heads if we ruin her dishes."
"Tomorrow, then," begged Peter. "Say we can do it tomorrow."
Saybrook rolled his eyes at Jane.
She had to suppress a fit of giggles herself. "It seems, sir, you have opened Pandora's box."
"Who's Pandora?" demanded the boy. "There's no one in the house by that name. Is it a special box? Can I see it?"
"We are just getting to mythology," said Jane to Saybrook. Then to Peter she added, "And no, Peter, there isn't anyone named Pandora here and there isn't any real box. It is a type of fable that we shall learn about soon in our lessons."
"Oh," said the boy, sounding a bit disappointed. He thought for a second. "Then how can Uncle Edward open it?"
Saybrook's eyes flashed with mirth. "Yes, Miss Langley. How is that?"
"Beast," she hissed. "Peter, it's rather like the stories Reverend Burke tells in church. The stories teach us lessons about life. Well, Pandora and her box is a story which we shall learn about. And there is a moral to it as well."
"I don't think I will like that story—Reverend Burke is boring."
"Peter," warned Jane.
"Yes, Miss," sighed the boy. "Don't speak ill of your elders."
Saybrook threw back his head with a peal of laughter. "Good Lord, I wouldn't be eight again for all the tea in China!"
"Then try not to act like it," she retorted in a low voice as she walked past him into the dining room.
Saybrook was seated at the head of the table with Jane to his right and Peter to his left. It was an arrangement that had only begun very recently, but Jane noted that it had been good for all concerned. It must have been very austere and lonely for the marquess to take his meals all by himself in the cavernous room night after night. So when he tentatively suggested that might be good for Peter to become accustomed to an adult table she had enthusiastically endorsed the plan. The boy was delighted with the change and had lost nearly all his shyness around his uncle. In fact, she could see the bond between the two of them growing stronger very day. And just the other day she had realized with a start that the marquess had been here for weeks and showed no sign of leaving.
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