But hardly had the hot colour receded from her cheeks than she saw an elegantly long white-gloved hand appear on Lord Jaspar’s shoulder and a gay voice interrupted his conversation with Lady Stanier.
“Jaspar, do be a darling and give me your chair. I am near fainting with boredom from that Quint creature prosing on and on in his antediluvian way. I vow, I barely escaped with my sanity.”
Lord Jaspar looked less than pleased but rose politely and gave place to his sister. Lady Sarah reached for his glass of iced champagne and surveyed Jane frankly over the rim with large blue eyes as she drank it all down greedily. Without speaking, or even looking at him, she held the glass over her shoulder to Jaspar, who, after an instant’s hesitation took it resignedly and went away to fetch her another glass.
“I know you will forgive me, Lady Payton, for thrusting myself upon you in this rag-mannered way, but you are the only interesting-looking person in this entire assemblage of bores!” Lady Stanier raised an eyebrow at this wholesale condemnation in which she was evidently included, but Lady Sarah prattled on, unconscious of the insult. “As a matter of fact, the only reason I came tonight was to see you. Mrs. Medvers-Platt happened to mention at the Tolley’s rout last week that you were to be her guest tonight and I immediately clamoured for an invitation. I had heard that you were quite beautiful, you see, and I have been positively consumed with curiosity to see you ever since I heard of the marriage, for of course no one ever expected Sebastian Payton to be able—”
A firm, tanned hand appeared before Jane’s and Lady Stanier’s horror-frozen eyes, grasped Lady Sarah by the arm and lifted her precipitously from the chair. “Come dearest sister, Mr. Quint is pining for your presence,” said Lord Jaspar in a voice tight with rage.
“Jaspar! What can you mean by jerking me about in this rude way!” gasped Lady Sarah, her eyes flashing dangerously. “And where is my champagne?”
“You’ve had quite enough, I think. Come along.” Without giving her time to speak he led her away.
Lady Stanier looked into Jane’s shocked eyes and with a gay little laugh said something about siblings, then that if Jane would recommend it, she quite thought she would have the other jelly, that is, if Jane was quite sure she would not like it. Jane forced herself to smile back and disclaim any need for further refreshments. Several pairs of avid eyes lost interest as Lady Stanier firmly led the way into a discussion of the quality of the music provided by Mrs. Medvers-Platt and the bountifulness of the refreshments. Jane dutifully followed this lead and produced a very creditable imitation of a young woman with nothing more important to discuss. She watched covertly as Lady Montmorency, after a brief word from Lord Jaspar, rose and sailed out of the room on her son’s arm, an obviously angry Lady Sarah pulled along on his other side.
Very soon after this, Lady Stanier signalled that they might leave. When they were safely seated together in the carriage Lady Stanier reached over to press Jane’s hand warmly.
“That was very well done, child. I was proud of you.”
“It was ghastly—every moment! I should never have agreed to come with you! Everyone staring and Lord Jaspar teasing and that dreadful creature making those insinuations about Sebastian. I cannot—”
“Pooh! What a to-do you are making. You must learn not to be so thin skinned, child! Naturally everyone stared. You are new to them and quite, quite beautiful. That alone would make them stare, even aside from the fact of your intriguingly mysterious history. As for Lady Sarah, she was flown with wine and not accountable. Besides, she was only voicing what everyone was wondering about.”
“But—but—how terrible of them—”
“Not at all—perfectly natural. If I didn’t know the circumstances I should no doubt be speculating about it myself. We’re a very parochial Society in London, after all. We all know each other and everything about each other. Believe me, it is a very rare skeleton that can stay decently hidden in the closet as far as we are concerned. The thing to do is just smile and be calm and by next week they will all have found something else to titillate them. Now—what was that you said about Lord Jaspar teasing you? I don’t think I missed much of his conversation and I vow I noticed nothing out of the way. A very pretty-behaved young man, I thought, in spite of that mother.”
Now Jane was in something of a quandary, for she could not think of any way to explain the comment that had slipped out in her agitation. “I—oh—nothing really, I just felt nervous of him.”
“But what did he say in particular to distress you?” Lady Stanier persisted.
Jane again replied vaguely, for in truth she could not really remember anything he had said besides asking if he could call. That request still clanged around in her brain as she tried to imagine how he intended to play the scene. Would he tease and hint at his knowledge or come right out and tell her he knew who she was? Would he say nothing to her but whisper it around the drawing rooms of London? Was he even now revealing to his mother and sister that they had just been formally introduced to their former backstairs maid? Indeed, that Lady Sarah had bent a knee to her?
Jane longed to pour this unresolvable problem into Lady Stanier’s ear, but could even Lady Stanier’s vast understanding and kindness extend to a tale of near seduction involving what could only be called complicity, for a few moments at least, on Jane’s part? No! Better by far to bury her guilty secret, however much a burden it remained on her conscience. She would have to face Lord Jaspar and whatever he had in store for her alone.
Later, snuggled into her pillow and alone at last to vent her long-held-in-emotions, she found she had no tears to shed after all. Instead, she set herself to try to remember what he had said to her, but most of it remained elusive. She found his face continually materializing before her, however, and thought, “How blue his eyes are! As clear as the sky on a summer day. And as innocent of malice!” She looked again and it was true. She walked toward them, but they receded before her. Abruptly she was asleep.
Jaspar, meanwhile, bundled his mother and sister into the Montmorency carriage and sat grimly between them, staring straight ahead, his disapprobation apparent. Sarah on one side stared angrily, if rather blearily, out the window, demonstrating by her silence her anger with her brother for having dragged her away from the party just when it had become interesting. Lady Montmorency stared as resolutely and as silently out the other side. Her object was to prevent any altercation from breaking out between her children in the carriage when it might be overheard by the coachman.
When they reached Curzon Street, Sarah flounced out of the carriage and went straight up to her room without a word. Lady Montmorency turned to say goodnight to Jaspar before following her daughter, but he spoke first.
“If I could have a word with you in my study, Mama,” he said and without waiting for a reply crossed to the door of his study and stood holding it for her. She shrugged and followed him. He closed the door on the interested gaze of Omsby, the butler.
“Really, Jaspar, I wish you will not order me about in this way before the servants,” said Lady Montmorency, sinking into a chair before the fire and shrugging off her ermine-lined velvet evening cloak. “Also I am very weary and not interested in a brangle tonight. If you have to ring a peal over someone, wait till morning and speak to your sister.”
“When she is sober, do you mean?” he inquired with an awful irony.
“Jaspar! Of course I mean nothing of the kind! What a thing to imply—”
“Not implying, Mama, stating as fact. You had best look to your daughter, madam. She is becoming much too fond of drink and has no head for it. Worse still, when she’s disguised her tongue wags at both ends.”
“You exaggerate, my dear. She has always been volatile—”
“And another thing,” he said, ignoring her protestations, “I don’t know what sort of set you’ve been allowing her to go about with, but she has been indulging in some very deep play lately. Her pockets are always to let and she’s already spent he
r next two quarters’ allowance. I’ll not advance her another penny and so I warn you! That’s all I have to say and if you’ll follow my advice you’ll take her in hand at once before it’s too late. I’ll bid you goodnight now, Mama.”
He crossed to the door and opened it and stood waiting politely for her to leave. She gathered up her cloak and came to stand before him, uncertainty in her cold, proud eyes. He kissed her hand, bowed, and she left with a murmured, “Goodnight, then, dear boy.”
He went to throw himself into the chair before the fire, hands deep in his pockets, long legs stretched before him. He stared into the flames, and saw dancing there a pair of dark-fringed amber eyes gazing wide-eyed back at him. A memory stirred hazily deep in his mind, but was gone before he could capture it. He had experienced the same thing when he first caught sight of those eyes this evening as he stood leaning against the wall of Mrs. Medvers-Platt’s music room, bored beyond expression, his ears assaulted by the execrable screechings of the soprano. Those startled eyes were familiar to him in some way. Somewhere he had seen eyes like them before. He cast about among his acquaintances but could not bring to mind their duplicates. It would come to him, no doubt, in time.
He allowed the problem to drift away as he sleepily called up the memory of Lady Payton in her entirety. There was no doubt she was the most adorably beautiful creature he had ever seen. How was it possible for such a woman to marry Payton, who by all accounts had been practically a dwarf? Perhaps it had all been a Banbury tale and the man perfectly normal, only sickly and unable to go about. For I’d stake my blunt that girl wouldn’t marry for convenience or avarice alone, he thought Not with that straightforward gaze. On the other hand, it is said that a good liar is one who can look you straight in the eye most innocently.
He dismissed the thought immediately as unworthy of his picture of her and again her wide-eyed gaze flew up to meet his as he asked if he might call. “Why?” she gasped. He leaned toward her to explain the absolute necessity of his seeing her again. She turned away. He followed—came slowly up behind her. His hands went around her—she was—
“M’lord! M’lord!”
“Wh-a-a-”
“Will you have your brandy now, m’lord?” inquired Omsby.
Jaspar stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, then shook his head crossly and rose. Perhaps if he went straight to his bed he could recapture that dream.
16
At eleven the following morning Jaspar tapped peremptorily on his sister’s door. His dream had eluded him completely the night before and his mood was not improved.
When he was told to enter he found Sarah in a wrapping gown of celestial-blue satin, extravagant with lace and satin ribands, seated on a small sofa. A stout gentleman was on his knees before her holding one of her small bare feet reverently. Wright, her dresser, stood to one side holding a tray with various implements arranged upon it. They all turned inquiringly at the interruption.
Jaspar stared in astonishment for a moment at this scene before he realized it was only the chiropodist attending to Lady Sarah’s toenails.
“I would like to speak with you for a moment,” Jaspar said shortly.
“Go away, Jaspar. I can’t talk to you now,” Sarah replied with a careless wave of her hand.
“Now! Dismiss your—er—attendants, madam.”
She looked at him rebelliously for a moment, but saw something in his eyes that told her she’d best do as she was bid. She petulantly motioned to the chiropodist and Wright to withdraw.
As soon as the door had closed behind them she burst out in great irritation. “I wish you will not burst into my apartments in this boorish fashion, Jaspar. It is of all things what I dislike most in the mornings. What do you want?”
“Several things. First of all you exhibited such a lamentable want of conduct last night that you exceeded even my expectations of you. You came within an ace of saying something unforgivable to Lady Payton, though I don’t suppose you can even remember it now.”
“Lady—oh—her! Nonsense, brother, we hit it off splendidly. Why should I say unforgivable things to her?”
“Why, indeed? My reading of the situation was that you were foxed again.”
“Er—what did I say?” she asked guardedly. He told her and she had the grace to look flustered for a moment. But only for a moment “Pooh! I shouldn’t refine too much upon that. I doubt she is such a dolt she would. After all, her sensibilities were not so nice they prevented her from marrying the man!”
“We are not speaking of her sensibilities, but yours. To refer to his affliction in that gossiping, rattle-headed way before all those people, not even bothering to lower your voice, was unspeakable. Think—if you are capable—think how she must have felt!”
“I shall have strong convulsions if you continue to shout at me in this way!” she cried, clutching her temples. “I have the headache this morning.”
“That is the price one must pay for overindulgence in iced champagne,” he said unsympathetically, “which is another subject I wish to discuss with you when we have settled the matter of Lady Payton.”
“I suppose you are making all this fuss because you have designs on the virtue of the Widow Payton,” she said waspishly. His brows snapped down in a menacing frown. “Oh, all right, all right! I shall trot around and do the pretty to the dear little soul and we shall be bosom bows before the Season’s over.”
“Now the second matter—”
“Jaspar, please go away!”
“—is your fondness for drink. If you cannot control yourself I will send you down to the country with a keeper. At least there you will not disgrace yourself before your family and friends.”
“You would not dare!”
“Try me,” he invited calmly. “The third thing is that I would remind you you have been given your allowance for the next six months. Your fondness for deep play is your own business, of course, but you’ll have no more from me.”
“Jaspar don’t—you must—I must have—” the words tumbled out in a frightened spate at this.
“Rolled up again, sister? And thinking I’ll pay the dibs? Well, I tell you I won’t. If you think I’ll beggar the estate just so you can indulge in a few seconds’ excitement at the gaming tables, you are sadly mistaken.”
“I suppose you never play?” she was stung to reply.
“I have never been rolled up,” he pointed out, “so it is not to the point. You, on the other hand, seem only to lose. I must suppose you experience some sort of thrill from it. Far be it from me to deprive you of any of your pleasures, but I won’t continue to tow you out of the River Tick.”
“Just this one time, Jaspar, and I promise I’ll never—” she said coaxingly.
“You’ve said that the last three times.”
“This time I—”
“No, Sarah.”
“But what shall I do?” she cried.
“I would suggest you begin throwing out lures for a rich husband. What about old Fitz-Clarence? Rich as Croesus and dangling at your shoestrings any time this last twelve months.”
“He’s eighty years old!” she protested in horror.
“All the more likely to be dotty enough to pay your gaming debts, sister,” he said consolingly as he trod across the room and exited.
She reached down for one of her satin slippers and threw it at him, but it only hit the closed door and fell uselessly to the floor. She burst into noisy tears. But ten minutes later she was chattering gaily with the chiropodist, urging him into scandalous indiscretions about his other clients.
That same morning, Jane came awake as her door burst open suddenly to admit Clinton and Wellington, who both clambered onto her bed with much laughing on the boy’s part and barking on spaniels, to give her equally damp good-morning kisses.
This morning romp had become a ritual, allowed by Nanny, hovering in the hallway, to last ten minutes before she entered clucking. Master Clinton’s state of health was then discussed in minute deta
il, along with an account of all the scrapes he’d gotten into the day before. Clinton would burrow under the covers to cuddle against his mother’s soft, sleep-warm body, while Wellington tried desperately to follow suit, until a scandalized Nurse would lift the dog bodily off the bed and threaten to put him out of the room did he not behave proper. He would then run from side to side of the bed yipping frantically, overcome with excitement at the tickling match now in progress on it.
This state of affairs lasted only a few minutes, for soon Dorrie came in with m’lady’s hot chocolate and Nurse firmly carried her charge away, muttering dire predictions relating to young gentlemen who became hysterical before breakfast. The fact was, however, that anything that added to Clinton’s happiness was sacred to her and she would have been shocked if it were suggested the morning romp be abandoned.
Jane sat up against her pillows to drink her chocolate and saw on the tray a tight little posy of pink rosebuds in a delicate ivory holder. Puzzled, she took up the accompanying card. It had only two initials on it: “J. M.,” but they were enough to cause her heart to give a curious hard, little thump which in turn sent her leaping from the bed to stand indecisively in the middle of the floor.
“What is it, m’lady?”
“What?”
“I thought you was wantin’ something, m’lady, jumped out o’ yer bed like a startled rabbit you did, and now jest standin’ there all starin’ like.”
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