Lady Jane

by Norma Lee Clark

  Before the day was over Lady Stanier had overseen the transformation of Sebastian’s bedroom into a temporary nursery. She forebore to suggest that the child might perfectly well occupy the nursery in the other part of the house where generations of infant Payton’s, including Sebastian himself, had spent their first years. She knew Jane could never be persuaded to remove to that part of the house herself to take up her proper place as mistress of Larkwoods in the state apartments. At least not for the present. She was even somewhat resistant to the idea of having her child removed from her own boudoir, but Lady Stanier managed to convince her that everyone would benefit by the separation, and finally Nurse was allowed to carry Clinton away.

  Mrs. McKirk was consulted and a light dinner was ordered, after which Lady Stanier set out to entice Jane from her bed.

  “Oh—I’m not sure I—” Jane looked quite frightened at the suggestion she might like to dress and come join Lady Stanier for dinner.

  “I really must insist on your company, child. I dislike dining alone above all things, and it will do you good to leave that bed. You are not really ill, and lying in bed when one is in perfectly good health can be most debilitating, I assure you.”

  Lady Stanier’s calm, good-natured, down-to-earth attitude did its work, and Betty was sent for to dress Jane and arrange the tumble of dark curls. After the long weeks of illness and mourning, the house assumed again the agreeable stir and bustle of activity it had known, alas all too briefly during the past years, and although it did not resemble in any way the rejoicing of those two years of Jane and Sebastian’s marriage, at least the shroud of gloom was dispelled.

  The table had been laid before the fire in Sebastian’s study, where the couple had been accustomed to take their meals when the elder Lady Payton had not been in residence, and Jane felt a weak quaking when she entered the study and saw the familiar setting of so many happy hours. But Lady Stanier, sensing that she would feel so, came forward to lead her to a comfortable chair at the table, and without any appearance of strain, began to speak quite openly of Sebastian, telling her of some of his exploits as a small child, and then passing on quite naturally to speak of herself and Lady Payton when they were girls. Jane managed to eat a respectable portion of the simelles of carp, broiled fowl with mushrooms, and Savoy cake placed before her, and even to laugh aloud once at one of Lady Stanier’s stories.

  When Crews had removed their plates and withdrawn, they remained comfortably relaxed in their chairs, sipping the last of their wine, a contented silence between them.

  Lady Stanier was pondering the strange workings of Providence, which had brought this young girl into their lives less than two years ago. A frightened, bruised little Cockney girl, who yet managed to project spirit and courage in her eagerness to begin again in a place totally foreign to her. Now, still months short of her seventeenth birthday, the little backstairs maid had become a mother, a widow, an heiress to a staggering portion of the Payton fortune and the guardian of an even larger amount held in her son’s name, and the bearer of the tide of Baroness Larkley, one of the oldest and most prestigious in England.

  A real-life fairy story, Lady Stanier mused, with Jane as Cinderella, or Beauty and the Beast, although, of course, Sebastian had not been beastly in any way. Actually quite good-looking except for his lack of inches, which most people tended to think of as freakish, and the dourness of his manner really overlaid the original sweetness of his nature. She well-remembered the loving, happy little boy he had been before that dreadful accident. It was that nature that had been allowed to surface again in the warmth of Jane’s sunny disposition. They had all, in fact, basked in it and grown to love and depend on her so much that not only were they not shocked by the misalliance but eager to promote it Honesty compelled Lady Stanier to admit that beauty and sunny nature notwithstanding, such a marriage could not have come about in the ordinary course of things, however that had nothing to say to anything since there had been nothing in the least ordinary in the course of things.

  And circumstances were bound to become even more extraordinary, for Lady Stanier had determined that she would not go away and leave this child here, prey to depression and loneliness and Angela Gilbert She would take her away with her to London, where, inevitably, she would come to the attention of Society, and a victim to its voracious appetite for gossip. Lady Stanier silently thanked the Lord for Sebastian’s adamant refusal to have an announcement of the marriage sent to the papers. If Lady Stanier could slip very quietly into London with the new Lady Payton, allow the news to be disseminated to a select few, spread, and become an accepted fact before the child need face anyone, for actually nothing was demanded or even expected of her while she was in mourning, then she might be able to accomplish her acceptance without too outrageous an uproar. She and the old Lady Payton had settled it between them at the time of the marriage that they would let it be known, where they felt it necessary, that Miss Coombes was a young country girl of good family fallen on hard times and to deflect any further inquiries with enthusiastic descriptions of Jane’s beauty and sweetness. It had worked, for the greater part, at the time.

  Now, however, circumstances made the position even more difficult. For here was an excessively young widow, whose inheritance would draw every fortune hunter in England and whose beauty would have half the beaux of the ton dangling at her shoestrings. However, Lady Stanier turned decisively to Jane.

  “My dear, I have been thinking of what to do, and I think, you know, that now, before the roads become impassable, you and the child had best come back to London with me.”

  Jane stared uncomprehendingly at her for a moment before the full import of the words reached her brain, and then her whole face expressed shocked protest But before she could utter it, Lady Stanier held up a hand to halt her.

  “Wait! I know what you are going to say: the baby is too young for such a journey, that you prefer to stay here because you feel safer here, that—oh—everything you are preparing to say to me. But let me tell you my reasons first. I cannot stay with you. I have obligations in London, and I cannot feel right about leaving you here—especially now when you are bound to feel especially alone and unhappy. And as for the journey—pooh, I make nothing of that. I daresay we would all be as comfortable in my carriage as we are here by this fireside, and certainly the child could take no harm.”

  Jane pictured Lady Stanier’s elegant, well-sprung, extraordinarily warm and luxurious travelling coach and smiled faintly in acknowledgment of the truth of her statement. It was indeed possible to imagine a journey of any length in the coach equipped with braziers of hot coals, voluptuously soft, velvet-covered squabs, and a capacious food basket stowed under the seat “Dear Aunt Stanier, I’m sure all you say is true,” she answered with a fond smile, “however, I could not take Clinton away from his home. He should grow up here, knowing it and feeling its influence. He—”

  “Nonsense! Until the child is at least a year old the only influence he will respond to is yours and Nurse Watkyns, and if you are depressed and unhappy he will feel it. Besides, I’m not speaking of taking him away forever. Naturally, you will come back when the weather improves and it is possible to take advantage of the outdoors. I’m speaking of these long dreary winter months ahead when you stand in need of your family about you—I speak of myself—as well as being occasionally in company—”

  “Company? Oh no, I could not face—Society!”

  “Who speaks of Society? I am referring to taking a cup of tea with an old friend or two of my own from time to time, or attending a musical evening. Naturally I do not intend anything more myself while we are in mourning. As for not ‘facing’ people, I will not allow you to bury yourself down here forever. My sister had no choice. She felt she owed it to her son to remain here if he insisted upon doing so, just as you owe it to your son to do whatever is necessary to give him a healthy, happy childhood. And I don’t believe staying here alone is conducive to either of those qualities.”
r />   “But—but—the servants—I—”

  “I’ve thought of that. We would take Nurse with us, of course, leaving the rest here, since you will be staying with me. It would be foolish to open up Payton House for just a few months. However, next year you should come up early and open it for the Season and bring Mr. and Mrs. Crews with you, and Dorrie, of course. I’m sure Mrs. McKirk will be wanting to retire by then, and I doubt she’d ever go to London in any case.”

  “Payton House?”

  “The Payton town house. Surely Sebastian mentioned it to you.”

  “We—never talked of such things—his possessions or money—and I never thought to ask. There were so many things to talk about always that I suppose we never thought of it. Of course I am not so hen-witted as not to know that there is a great deal of money left to Clinton, and Lady Payton told me just before she died that I need not ever worry about anything again, because they had seen to it that I needn’t—but I wouldn’t let her go on, she could hardly speak anyway and I couldn’t bear to let her waste—well—” she dashed a hand childishly across her swimming eyes, “anyway, about Payton House. I think I will go there,” Jane said decidedly.

  “But my dear child! It will not be suitable now. All the furniture in Holland covers, no staff—”

  “Well, I will come to you for a few weeks while Fred and Betty Crews close up this place and come up to prepare it and hire some more servants. I don’t like to go away and leave them here for months. They have all been so good to me, and I think we should all stay together.”

  If Lady Stanier had been prepared to expound upon the unnecessary trouble and expense such a plan would entail, she forgot it quickly at the firmness of this last declaration. Besides, she thought, refurbishing the house would distract Jane’s mind from her grief and prevent the possibility of her becoming an unhealthily doting, overprotective mother, and Heaven knew the expense need not be a concern.

  So it was settled between them that in a week’s time they would travel, by easy stages, to London with little Clinton and Nurse Watkyn, to be followed a week after that by Mr. and Mrs. Crews and Dorrie, who was to come to Lady Stanier’s to be trained as a proper abigail by Ames. They would make the journey in the Payton travelling chaise, which would then be available for Jane’s use in the city. Mrs. McKirk, if she chose not to accompany them, would be given her very generous pension, plus what she had been left by the late Lady Payton in her will, and conveyed to her sister’s house in Dorset in one of the smaller carriages.

  It wasn’t until Lady Stanier was in her bed that night that she began to wonder, enviously, what Jane and Sebastian had found to talk about so endlessly. Lord knows Percy had been an exemplary husband, and Lady Stanier had truly loved him and grieved dreadfully when he was taken from her, but she was forced to acknowledge that interesting conversation had not been his long suit.

  14

  As Jane and Lady Stanier mounted the curving, shallow staircase to Mrs. Medvers-Platt’s drawing room, Jane’s knees were trembling so badly she had some serious doubts about ever reaching to the top. This was her first venture into Society in the three years since Sebastian’s death, in spite of Lady Stanier’s repeated efforts to persuade her otherwise. True, she had been present in Lady Stanier’s drawing room on several occasions when visitors had been announced, and had received Lady Stanier and various lady friends of hers at Payton House, but she had remained adamant about going out in the evenings long after the year of mourning had been observed. Lady Stanier had remarked, rather pithily, that such an attitude was “quite gothick” and she was sure Sebastian would have agreed with her, but Jane had only smiled and changed the subject. Not only had she no inclination for entertainment, she had not yet weaned the baby and became very uncomfortable when his mealtime approached and she was not near to relieve both him and herself. More important, she had not yet acquired the courage to do it.

  She had seen the curiosity and speculation in the eyes of Lady Stanier’s friends, hovering behind the kindliness and courtesy with which they had treated her, and polite inquiries such as “—would you be related to the Coombes in Yorkshire?” had reduced her to such a blind panic that she could only gape dumbly at her inquisitor and wait to be rescued by Lady Stanier.

  She had, however, enjoyed refurbishing Payton House. At first she had been loath to allow anything at all to be changed, content to oversee the cleaning, waxing, and polishing, a prodigious enough task in itself. Lady Stanier had managed to convince her, however, that the draperies in the drawing room would fall apart if any attempt were made to clean them, since they had been hanging there when the former Lady Payton was a bride, and Jane had reluctantly agreed to accompany her to a silk warehouse in search of suitable fabric for replacements. After that the sad condition of the upholstery on several of the dining room chairs was pointed out, and one thing led to another until Jane was caught up in a swirl of redecoration. She steadfastly refused, however, to replace any of the furnishings themselves, saying she wanted the house to retain the character given it by all the Lady Paytons of the past, and that she much preferred its style to the present mode for console tables with crocodile feet and lamps shaped like lilies.

  She had gone down to Kent that first spring and introduced her son to the glories of the Kentish countryside foaming with lilacs and roses. It was not so heart-wrenching as she had dreaded it would be, though the first days had been difficult But when the days had lengthened to long, sun-drenched hours, drowsy with the hum of bees plundering hedges tangled with wild Canterbury bells and thrifts and meadowsweets, the ache of loss gradually eased and the happier memories revived. Each year after that it was to become easier as the past released its hold and the present grew more interesting.

  She had finally relented and agreed to attend Mrs. Medvers-Platt’s musical evening. Mrs. Medvers-Platt was Lady Stanier’s bosom-bow from girlhood and had been especially pressing in her invitations to Jane. Having been in the habit of spending her winters away on the Continent when Jane was in residence at Payton House, she was exceedingly eager to meet this young woman who had married Sebastian.

  “For say what you will, Shafto,” she had confided to her husband in the privacy of her boudoir, “the boy was deformed. Why he never grew to be more than sixty inches tall if that!” Shafto, who had not said anything in the first place, made only his usual noncommittal grunt to this statement, but Mrs. Medvers-Platt took this as encouragement to proceed, as she had learned to do after twenty-five years of marriage to a man who rarely communicated anything not directly bearing on his own comfort. “You may mark my words on it that there is something wrong with the girl. Probably a knock-in-the-cradle whose parents were unable to make any other match for her!”

  The girl who appeared beside Lady Stanier at the top of the stairs, however, was obviously in perfect command of her intellect and so beautiful it quite took Mrs. Medvers-Platt’s breath away. She noted indulgently that her husband had come to life and was pulling in his stomach and brushing his mustaches back in anticipation.

  Jane wore a smoke-gray satin tunic trimmed in silver-embroidered acorns and leaves over a deeper gray underskirt. Her black curls had been brushed high on the back of her head and she wore a tiara of diamonds and silver leaves mounted on thin silver wires so that they trembled and glittered with each movement of her head in a most enchanting way. It had been Sebastian’s gift to her on their marriage. The gray was her concession to Lady Stanier’s insistence that she put aside her mourning clothes. “A year would have been quite enough. Besides it doesn’t become you and you are much too young to go about in such lugubrious garments for so long.” Jane had felt conspicuous, almost naked, without the protection of her black and brown gowns at first, but the knowledge that one has never been in better looks had succeeded in alleviating that discomfort tonight The high colour in her cheeks and lips was set off by the perfection of the soft, cloudy gray, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement to be among people in spite of her n
erves.

  Mrs. Medvers-Platt sailed forward to envelop Lady Stanier in a warm embrace and then turned to Jane. She was a large, stout lady with so imposing a manner that Jane was overcome with shyness, which charmed Mrs. Medvers-Platt so much she embraced Jane also before turning to present her to an eager Mr. Medvers-Platt, who clearly looked upon pretty girls as one of the creature comforts provided by a benevolent deity. He took her hand possessively in both his own and seemed disinclined to let it go, all the while complimenting her in a heavy-handed way and being enormously gratified by her blushes. Finally he pulled her hand through his arm proprietarily and bore her away without a word to the two older ladies. Mrs. Medvers-Platt turned to her friend with an apologetic smile.

  “There, my dear, you will forgive Shafto for his rudeness, I know. He is so cast into the glooms by my parties until some pretty creature comes in for him to flirt with. It is just his habit, you know, he means nothing by it and would never take advantage of a young, inexperienced girl.” Mrs. Medvers-Platt spoke with great earnestness, eyeing Lady Stanier anxiously. Lady Stanier’s eyes were twinkling, but she replied soberly that she trusted dear Shafto completely.

  After the first few uncomfortable moments, Jane realized that she also could trust Mr. Medvers-Platt and relaxed, actually enjoying having a flirt, even an elderly one, since it allowed her to be less self-conscious among all these strangers. Her beau led her from group to group, introducing her, flattering her, and teasing her all at the same time until she quite lost her earlier apprehensions and began to look upon this mostly middle-aged gathering as benign and well-meaning.

  It was, therefore, even more of a shock when she turned laughingly away from an ancient lady with a hearing trumpet who insisted, despite Jane’s protestations, that she had been acquainted with Jane’s mother, to come face-to-face with Lady Montmorency and her daughter, Lady Sarah!