No, Jane thought rebelliously, Craven Hall would make a fine home when it was put to rights. Although she put no stock in the housekeeper’s tales of unhappiness and hauntings, Jane set to her work with renewed vigor, for she could not deny she would welcome Raleigh’s presence in this room tonight. There would be no mysterious noises when he was sleeping here—or sounds of any kind.
Raleigh, perfect being that he was, didn’t even snore.
Chapter Nine
Raleigh was feeling much better disposed to the world when he returned from the village. Not only had he eaten his fill at the Four Posts, but he had two fat hampers full of supper stowed in the coach. Although the denizens of the Four Posts had not seemed as menacing as those who inhabited the Rose and Thorn, Raleigh had the good sense not to mention Craven Hall. He presented himself to his fellow diners as a traveler, and was rewarded with a peaceful afternoon of decent company and fine wine.
If his lighthearted mood was dampened by a twinge of guilt at leaving his new wife ensconced in less than adequate conditions. he was reminded that Jane appeared, against all reason, to harbor an interest in the building. The thought made him turn his mind to searching out the reason for such an attraction, for hadn’t he promised himself to do just that?
Leaning back against the cushions, Raleigh closed his eyes and pondered the question. Perhaps Jane, like his friend Sebastian’s wife, Prudence, was attracted to gothic horrors? But no, Jane did not even read such “horrid” novels.
Hmm. Did Jane, like Cornelius himself, possess a nature that compelled her to keep everything from old newspapers to rotted gloves? The suspicion was sufficiently alarming to make Raleigh lift his lashes in terror before he realized that the simply dressed Jane with her lone trunk could hardly be deemed a collector of anything.
He was still pondering his wife’s attraction to Craven Hall when the coach rolled to a halt in front of the dreadful atrocity. Shuddering anew at the view, Raleigh ordered the groom and driver to take in the hampers and headed off in search of his spouse. Naturally, no one stood at the entry to take his gloves, and even a friendly call through the bowels of the building produced no response.
For a moment, Raleigh worried that Jane might have been spirited away by some manifestation of the threats uttered by the Rose and Thorn crowd, but he followed what appeared to be a path through the clutter until at last he reached their chamber. Although it was empty, he could hear sounds in the room next to it, and firmly ignoring his dislike for rodents, he returned to the passageway and poked his head inside.
To his surprise, he encountered the clean scent of soap and beeswax and a relatively unencumbered space. Venturing farther inside, Raleigh saw a servant girl was stripping the bed of linens and he breathed a sigh of approval. At least they now had some staff other than Mrs. Grisly.
“I say, good work!” he commented, only to hear the dainty creature gasp in astonishment as she whirled toward him. With a sound of dismay, Raleigh recognized that slender form and the face that topped it. Wide eyes stared back at him from behind spectacles, and lips that too often were tightly pressed together parted on a sigh.
An ungloved hand rested at her throat, calling attention to the pale skin there, and a smudge of dirt marked her clear cheek. There was a drop of moisture along her forehead, and her hair was coming down from its tight knot. Raleigh saw one dark golden tendril brush her jaw and disappear into her high neckline, and he swallowed. Hard.
As he stared in a rather dumbfounded manner, it crossed Raleigh’s mind that his wife had never looked more human—or more desirable. He shook his head as if to clear it. Normally, he was the most fastidious of men. He despised dirt and unkempt clothing and liked his females to be all giddy and sweet smelling, but to his amazement, he felt the front of his breeches becoming uncomfortably tight.
Obviously, he had been too long without a woman, he thought, swallowing again. Even harder. But his body ignored such an explanation, and soon his brain abandoned all attempts to reason with it. He wanted to tear that ridiculous mobcap from her hair and let loose her locks, combing through them with his fingers. He wanted to taste the sweat on her brow, but most of all he wanted to follow that one rebellious strand of hair down into the mysterious depths beneath her drab gown.
He wanted Jane.
The thought was so terrifying that at last Raleigh was moved to action. Stepping forward, he forced a careless smile to his face. “I brought back supper, so we can avoid the workhouse gruel or whatever other delights Mrs. Grievous has on the menu.”
Jane blinked, finally dropping her hand to her side in an awkward gesture. “Oh, you startled me. Did you have a good meeting with the solicitor?”
Raleigh rested his hip against a heavy table and crossed her arms over his chest. “Actually, no. Mr. Felix Fairman was not in, and the exact date of his return is in question.”
Her brows furrowed gently and Raleigh found himself wanting to smooth the creases from her forehead. With his tongue. “Oh, dear. What shall you do?” she asked.
Raleigh shrugged, trying not to stare at that one lock of hair that clung to her skin. “Wait for him, I suppose. Not much else to do until we know the facts.” He sent his gaze roaming around the room instead of over his wife. “It looks as though you’ve accomplished a miracle here. Since this is probably the main chamber, I cannot imagine the state in which you found it. The new staff must be eager to work, despite all the horrifying tales of doom and destruction at Craven Hall.”
“Well, in truth, I didn’t send for any help. I was hoping you might do that.”
Raleigh gaped at her for a moment, then flushed with embarrassment as he realized she had slaved like a servant all day. “I am not so ill off that my wife has to scrub floors!” he protested.
“I don’t mind. Besides, it was Antoine who scrubbed the floor.”
Raleigh jerked upright. “Antoine? Are you telling me my valet was here…cleaning?”
Jane nodded. “Indeed, he was most helpful.”
Raleigh sank back against the table edge. “Lud, I would’ve thought he’d take to his bed in a swoon before doing such menial labor.”
“He didn’t have a bed to take to,” Jane said, and Raleigh glanced at her in surprise. Was the chit making a joke? Ah, he positively adored Jane when she showed some signs of her deeply buried sense of humor. He wanted to nurture it until it thrived. He wanted to take her smudged face in his hands and kiss her witty little mouth…
Hastily, Raleigh returned his thoughts to the matter at hand. “And what of Madeleine? Please do not tell me that she was working, too, or I might faint dead away.”
For a moment he could have sworn that her lips twitched as she tucked in a corner of a blanket, but her answer was somber. “Madeleine is on her way back to your mother.”
“Did you toss her out?” Raleigh asked in surprise. He could hardly blame his wife, if she had ordered the maid away. The woman was too demned stiff-necked.
“Certainly not!” Jane said, looking horrified. “She gave notice because she did not care for the…accommodations.”
Raleigh laughed at the carefully phrased explanation, for he was certain the maid had expressed herself a bit differently. “Can’t say I shall miss her,” he said, and had the great pleasure of watching Jane bite back a smile. Why did she not give in to the impulse?
“But, come, I want to show you what I found!” she said, reaching out as if to take his hand. Then, apparently deciding against such contact, she dropped her arm and stepped back, much to Raleigh’s regret. “Sometimes I forget that you aren’t one of my brothers,” she said with a frown as she passed by him. But Raleigh could see the faint blush that stained her cheeks, and he was encouraged. After all, brother was an improvement, wasn’t it?
Raleigh grinned as he let her lead him through the maze of rooms toward the rear of the house. “I found it when I was taking out some rubbish,” she explained over her shoulder. “I went through everything in the bedroom as best I could, r
eturning the books to the library, the dishes to the kitchen, and a variety of oddities to the gallery. Your great-uncle must have been quite a collector! You shall have to look at some of the things I rescued.”
Although Raleigh could hardly imagine a more onerous task, he said nothing, for he was content to admire the gentle sway of Jane’s skirts as she moved ahead of him.
“Of course, I had the grooms burn all the newspapers and anything that couldn’t go to the ragman, but I kept an eye on the fire, so that it did not go out of control,” Jane said. Raleigh tried to imagine any other woman of his acquaintance keeping watch over a pile of burning refuse, but he could not. The mind boggled.
“It was a little warm standing by the blaze, so I wandered off, and that is when I found it!” The note of excitement in her voice was unmistakable and promptly affected Raleigh’s insides, making everything quicken and spark from his brain on down.
She flung open a door and they were met by the perpetual gloom that seemed to hang over Northumberland, as if a great deluge waited to pour down upon them at any moment. Forced to pick his way over broken crockery and clumps of weeds as he followed his wife through the unkempt grass, Raleigh wondered what she could have discovered to please her out here, for the stables were in the other direction. So busy was he watching his step that he nearly knocked into her when she stopped suddenly.
“Look!” she said, with a trill of urgency in her tone.
Raleigh looked, but all he could see was a mass of overgrown shrubs and ragged looking plants stretching out to the godforsaken moors. He opened his mouth to say so, but shut it again when his wife turned around, her face flushed and eager as he had never seen it.
“The gardens!” she cried, swinging an arm as if to encompass the whole pitiful area. “They go on forever, finally blending into the natural landscape. I have never seen such ambitious arrangements. Why, it puts the Great House to shame!” Jane claimed.
Raleigh gazed stupidly at what appeared to be a raggedy mess and tried to compare it to the spotless lawn of Wroth’s Sussex home, where bright beds of flowers were perfectly designed to their owner’s satisfaction. Of course, he was no gardener, but even he could tell a weed when he saw one. And he saw plenty.
His wife, however, was watching him expectantly, so Raleigh forced a smile to his lips. “Eh, yes, splendid! Lots of potential here!” he said, trying for diplomacy rather than the bald truth. He was rewarded for his efforts when Jane sighed, a soft sound of pleasure that made Raleigh think of trysts under the trees. Turning away from her to hide his sudden interest, he wished that his wife would show one quarter of this kind of passion for something besides a patch of overgrown plants.
“As soon as I finish with the house, I would like to try my hand here,” she said. Oblivious to his uncomfortable condition, she knelt to test the earth lovingly, and Raleigh yearned for a day when her fingers would touch him with that much enthusiasm. He sighed, and then jerked his head up. What had she said? Something about after the house? He opened his mouth to explain that they could not linger here indefinitely, scrabbling away at the old wreck, but she spoke again.
“I love the feel of good soil,” she said in a low voice like warm butter, and Raleigh tugged surreptitiously at his tight breeches.
“I, uh, understand that you have quite a talent for growing things,” he muttered. In an effort to ignore that part of himself that was growing, Raleigh tried to remember exactly what it was he had wanted to discuss with her a moment ago.
“Oh, I have no gift. It is simply a hobby,” she said with her usual modesty. “Don’t you have a hobby or a divertissement of some kind?”
Raleigh could hardly mention the one that came immediately to mind. Nor would Jane approve of gambling or horse racing or any of the usual ton pursuits. Indeed, he was hard-pressed to think of anything his wife might condone until he was suddenly struck with inspiration. “Matchmaking!” he said, with a grin.
Jane looked up at him with a bemused expression. “What?”
“Matchmaking,” Raleigh repeated, encouraged by her interest. “I like to think I had a hand in your sister’s nuptials, although I must say they seemed destined for each other from the start I played more of a part in Wroth’s marriage, giving him a little nudge when I could. And I out and out tried to arrange a romance between the earl of Ravenscar and his future wife, nearly to disastrous results, but my instincts were good and all’s well at the end.”
Jane was leaning back on her heels, staring up at him as if he were mad, which was an improvement over her usual contempt, he supposed. “It’s great fun, actually, seeing my friends running around like fools, refusing to acknowledge the feelings that are obvious to everyone else,” he explained.
With a loud sniff, Jane rose to her feet before he could reach out to take her bare hand in his own while ostensibly helping her. “A lot of foolishness,” she said, wiping her fingers briskly on the large apron she wore.
“Do you think so?” Raleigh asked. Slightly dumbfounded, he watched as she turned away from him and began walking back to the house, her rigid stance once more in place after her brief show of enthusiasm.
With a sigh, Raleigh stared after her. “I cannot say from experience, of course, but I think it would be quite wonderful to be in love,” he said, more to himself than the departing figure of his wife.
“Quite wonderful indeed.”
Raleigh sighed into the darkness. Usually he slept soundly, but tonight he had difficulty relaxing completely, for Jane occupied his thoughts. In the past, no woman had ever kept him awake unless it was with a lustful romp, but his wife was…different.
Jane was still a mystery to him. After her astonishing attitude toward a patch of half-dead weeds, she had reverted to her usual behavior, treating him with stiff courtesy, refusing the treats he had brought from the pastry shop and generally being disagreeable. Raleigh wanted to grab her shoulders and shake away her terrifying restraint, for he suspected that beneath that not-so-plain exterior was a woman who denied herself for reasons he could not comprehend.
Although not given to selfish or greedy acts, Raleigh had never understood the concept of denial, when pleasure was so much more preferable. Money was better spent, fine food and wine relished and women enjoyed to the fullest, whether through light flirtation or leisurely lovemaking. That last thought made him groan, but he could not suppress his memory of Jane flushed with excitement over her garden, exhibiting the kind of passion he had never seen in her before.
It had nearly been as bad as earlier, when he had caught her unawares while making up the bed. Although Raleigh had never dallied with a servant, there was something positively enticing about Jane playing the role of a maid. The sight of her all hot, sweaty and at ease conjured a vision of bodies, slick and damp, coming together…
Rolling onto his back, Raleigh took a deep breath and tried to focus on his wife’s disdain for him and the disapproval that was so often evident when she spoke. But his mind, never very orderly, quickly wandered toward her room and her bed. Was she sleeping soundly? Last night she had screamed, sending him into her room with a stomach-churning terror that he had never known, only to find nothing.
She had heard noises. Raleigh would have laughed and banished any other woman’s unease with a kiss or a tickle, but Jane was not the fanciful type. If she said there had been a sound, there had, no doubt, been one. Whether it was only the wind or the creaks of the house, Raleigh couldn’t say, but now he found himself listening stupidly for God only knew what.
They had switched chambers, so that. Antoine could take the couch in the dressing room, but Raleigh found himself worrying even more about her ensconced in his great-uncle Holroyd’s old haunt, where she claimed the noises had begun. And he didn’t like the latchless door, either. Despite Jane’s blushing protests, he had insisted on propping the edge open slightly with a chair.
Tensing, he waited, expecting some telltale rumble to disturb her, until finally he sighed, disgusted with hi
mself. Lud, he had never been prone to the constant fretting that affected others of his acquaintance, and surely it was too late for him develop such a nasty habit. Rebelliously, Raleigh turned over and closed his eyes.
And heard something.
Immediately, much to his chagrin, all of Raleigh’s senses roused to alertness. Mice, he told himself, or some manner of vermin. But, if so, they were wearing armor, for he distinctly recognized the clank of metal. Rattling chains? The absurdity of it made him sit up, and he glanced toward the door, which remained slightly ajar. Despite his best efforts to thwart it, concern for Jane made him rise to his feet.
This time he had the wherewithal to throw on his banyan, and although the thought of sneaking through his own apartments like some burglar made him shudder, nevertheless he stepped forward in his bare feet, trying for soundless movement. Really, it was entirely too much trouble, he thought as he slipped through the panel to Jane’s room.
Raleigh was not sure what he expected to find, but in the darkness all seemed as it should be, except for that dratted rattling. Jane was still and silent Apparently, she did sleep like a rock. Of course, growing up at the vicarage, she must have been forced to ignore any but the loudest clamor.
He looked toward the ceiling, for that seemed to be the source of the disturbance. It was probably caused by a faulty balustrade banging in the infernal wind, he mused, or perhaps a squirrel or other animal had made a nest somewhere. He was standing there staring upward when a terrible crash erupted right above his head.
Lud, but the place was falling in on them, just as he had predicted! Blinking, Raleigh tried to see better, but the darkness prohibited his view. He half expected a hail of loose plaster, followed by the entire roof collapsing upon his head. He had just lifted an arm to cover his hair when Jane, apparently wakened by the crash, shrieked, making him start.
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