“Antony? Sir Antony asked you to marry him?” Jane blinked and sat up very tall, incredulous.
Caroline grabbed Jane’s hand. “Oh, Jane, I could not say yes even if I wanted to. But I could not bring myself to say no to him either because I desperately want to say yes! But when he discovers the truth… When Antony knows me for what I truly am, he will not want this Caroline at all, will he? He won’t care for this Caroline. Will he, Jane? Will he?”
Jane blinked at her. It was as if the Antony Caroline was talking about was not real, but a conjured being from her imagination. It was not that she disbelieved Caroline that Sir Antony Templestowe had asked her to marry him, it was the fact the baronet was returned to London and without warning or notice. She tried to steady her voice.
“Where did you see him, Caro? When? I thought—”
“—he was in ’Petersburg?” Caroline interrupted. “So did we all until yesterday when I happened to see him. We traveled up Audley Street, and whom should I spy on the pavement outside his townhouse? Antony! I was as shocked then as you look now. I had no idea at all. Did you know he was returning? Salt must have had a letter. Did he not tell you? And as if that weren’t enough of a shock, today Aunt Alice, Kitty and I attended a welcome home soirée for Antony and Diana—”
“Diana?”
“Yes.”
The way in which Jane breathed the name told Caroline Cousin Diana’s return from exile on the Continent was also news to the Countess. Did her brother keep everything to himself these days? She enlightened her sister-in-law.
“I have no idea why she invited Aunt Alice and me, when the last time we were in each other’s company I wanted to strangle the life out of her for daring to presume she had the right to manage the teapot and dish out cups of tea in your sitting room. I dare her to try that today!”
“A soirée…?”
“Yes. All the guests are connected to the government or politically important enough for Diana to think them worthy of her attention.” Caroline rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Salt would know them all, of course, and that’s why Diana invited them, to reacquaint herself with who’s important. Someone—I would wager it was Dacre Wraxton—must have written and told her of Salt’s decision to resume his government posts, and so she’s come home to interfere and meddle in his political life, as she’s always done in the past. But if she thinks she can—”
“Did—Did she appear—well?”
“Diana is always at her best when surrounded by toadies,” Caroline complained, but then instantly apologized. “Forgive me. That was uncharitable. She looked very well indeed and as beautiful as ever. Her gown was stare-worthy, all silver thread with sparkly sequined embroidery on the bodice and hem, and she wore a pair of matching mules. I think she wore diamonds, or was it a strand of pearls? Perhaps it was both.” Caroline shrugged a shoulder and smiled crookedly. “Aunt Alice could tell you more. You know me, Jane. I prefer a redingote and a comfortable pair of walking half-boots.” She stuck out her left foot and wriggled her toes out of the mule so that both her stockinged feet were bereft of shoes. “Heels make my arches ache… Strange that it took me three London seasons and two dozen pairs of high-heeled shoes to know myself better!”
“And it was at this soirée Sir Antony proposed…?”
Caroline nodded.
“Before Diana and the guests, he came straight up to me and without warning, without having said more than two words to me, he makes an exhibition of himself, as only he can, by dropping on one knee and asking me to marry him! Foolish man! As if I would say yes just like that!”
“And you did not…?” Jane was surprised.
“How can you think I could? It was a most romantic gesture, I agree, but… Jane, it’s been four years since he went away and so much has happened to me… I’ve changed, and when he discovers just how much I have changed, he will be relieved I did not say yes.” She pouted and looked at the crumpled handkerchief crushed in one hand. “Not that I said no,” she admitted reluctantly. “I could not disappoint him then and there… Jane, I so dread him finding out—of seeing his disappointment… He won’t want me then. He—”
Caroline stopped abruptly, realizing Jane was not listening. The Countess had a faraway look in her eye, but more disturbing, her hands were clasped so tightly together that the whites of her knuckles were showing through her translucent skin. It was Caroline’s turn to put her hand out to the Countess, and was alarmed, not only by how cold were her fingers, but how her hands shook. In fact, Jane was doing her best to stop her whole body from trembling.
“Jane! Oh, Jane, why did you let me chatter on when you’re not well?” Caroline called for her maid. “Elspeth! Cordial. Quickly!” When it came she put the tumbler into Jane’s hands and had her drink. “You need to be put to bed with a mug of hot milk and have a good night’s sleep. The journey from Hendon has exhausted you. And I have only added to your burden. Perhaps more fluids would help, what with feeding the baby…”
“Yes. Yes, that must be it,” Jane murmured and handed off the glass tumbler, only having tasted a few sips of the bittersweet lemon water. What she wanted was a hot cup of tea in bed and that would come soon enough, but first she needed to find out what she could about Diana St. John’s return. She waited until the maid had set the tray on the low table by the chaise longue, bobbed a curtsy and left the room, before she forced herself to say calmly, “So Di-Diana returned from the Continent a fortnight ago…?”
Caroline frowned.
“Didn’t Salt tell you she was coming home? He must have pardoned her for her atrocious jealousy all those years ago… I don’t know how he could! I don’t know what persuasive argument she used, but Diana has always had a way of getting what she wants, particularly with my brother. You only have to watch how she treats Antony, as if he is her lackey! Hideous creature. But I suspect he allows her to have her own way with matters of no consequence to him.” She peered at Jane. “Are you any better for the cordial?” When the Countess nodded, she was not convinced but asked, “Is this truly the first you have heard mention of Diana’s return?”
“Oh, I’m sure your brother must have told me, I’d just forgotten,” Jane replied airily and hated herself for lying.
She was sick to her stomach at the thought of such an evil creature as Diana St. John again roaming free, and worse, in such close proximity as to be living just a street away. She could hardly believe it true. Salt had assured her his cousin was forever banished, that never again would she need to worry for her personal safety, or his, or that of their children. Diana’s twins Ron and Merry would also be safe from their mother’s evil. She had never enquired where Diana was incarcerated; she did not want to know. She only asked that she be treated humanely, but locked away from good society forever more. She had an irresistible and quite irrational need to run to the nursery to see with her own eyes her three children and Merry all safe and well and sleeping peacefully in their beds. At least with Ron away at Eton, he was out of his mother’s evil orbit.
But Caroline, along with Lady Reanay and the majority of Society, had no inkling of the truth behind Diana’s banishment, and there had never been a need to enlighten them. Not for one moment did Jane believe Salt had sanctioned Diana’s release. She wondered if in fact he knew, and would spend a sleepless night wondering because he had yet to arrive in town, breaking his journey with her and the children to accompany Ron to Windsor, and see him settled in at Eton.
She curbed her instincts, forcing herself to be calm, to wait, to put wild imaginings about Diana to the back of her thoughts so she could concentrate on Caroline’s news and why her sister-in-law felt unequal to accepting Sir Antony Templestowe’s marriage proposal.
Simply knowing Antony had returned to London was a comfort and did much to lift her spirits. As did the news he had asked Caroline to marry him. She had prayed for this outcome since Caroline was made a widow. That it had finally happened was cause for celebration, not misery, and she had a sneaki
ng suspicion as to why her sister-in-law was miserable, but she needed to hear her say why before she could offer a solution she hoped she could accept.
“Salt possibly told me about Antony returning to London, too, but again, I’m certain I am at fault for being so forgetful,” she explained to Caroline. She tried her best to sound offhand. “No doubt I was in some nether world while Sam was feeding. The past six weeks have gone by so quickly, most of it in a blur, which is quite usual for a mother with a newborn.” She patted Caroline’s hand. “No matter. I shall ask Salt to repeat it all to me tomorrow. He should be home before nuncheon.” She cocked her head at Caroline. “But I interrupted you telling me about Antony and his very romantic proposal…”
Caroline plucked at a silken thread of the intricate embroidery that bordered the hem of her silk petticoats. “It was everything a girl could ask for… Why, I think I even dreamed of him on bended knee asking me to marry him! But you, more than any other, know why I must decline, why I cannot marry him.”
“No. I do not,” Jane said bluntly. “Not if you love him…”
“But you know, Jane. You know why I can’t be his wife.”
Jane regarded her sister-in-law with a sad smile. Yes, she did know to what she alluded and understood Caroline’s distress, but she had a solution that would help ease Caroline’s conscience. It was not something she would ever have contemplated suggesting before her own marriage, but an absurdly happy marriage, and now being the mother of three thriving children had given her latitude to be more pragmatic.
She knew very well that Salt had been compelled to marry his sister off to a fortune hunter to save her honor and the family from unwanted gossip, but her noble husband remained ignorant of the true nature of events of that fateful night of the masquerade, and to Jane’s mind that was not a bad thing. She doubted Salt would cope well with the truth. He had not coped well with the fiction told to him about his sister and Stephen Aldershot, but it was easier for him to believe that the two young people had been so caught up in the passionate moment as to forget themselves. He had never shown his true feelings about his sister’s marriage to anybody, only to her, and Jane knew he was devastated by it. She also knew he blamed the events leading up to Caroline’s marriage, and the marriage itself, on Sir Antony Templestowe, and that there was nothing Jane could say to dissuade him otherwise.
“You need not tell Antony about your marriage; any of it. There is no reason you should.”
Caroline blinked at Jane, shocked.
“Jane? Are you telling me to-to lie? To Antony?”
“Not at all. All I am saying is that you need not tell him. There is a difference.”
“And if I do not tell him, he will never know?”
“You have never told Salt, and as I will never tell him, he will never know. Why should Antony be any different? Even if he does find out far into the future, or you decide you must tell him—though why you would do so after years of being married to Antony I know not—when you start a family of your own, do you think what happened before you married Antony, before you became one, will hold any significance for him when he loves you so very dearly?”
When Caroline looked unconvinced, Jane took hold of her hand with a smile of reassurance.
“Many years ago, before your brother and I were married, when I was at a very low place in my thoughts, my nurse gave me a wonderful piece of advice. She told me to always look to the future, not to look back, not to dwell in the past. And that is what you must do, Caro, so that you and Antony can have a future together.”
“Your nurse was a wise woman.”
“Yes. And if she were here today, she would tell you that if Antony cares about the past and not his future with you, then he was never the man for you. Of course, it is my considered opinion that the moment he discovered you were no longer married, all he has been thinking about is the future, a future he can share with you.”
Caroline smiled askance.
“It is all very well for you to consign a bride’s virginity to the dust of least consequence, dearest Jane, when you were as white and as pure as a falling snowflake on your wedding night.”
“I was no such thing!” Jane retorted, startling Caroline into shocked disbelief.
“Jane! No. Not you.”
“Whether I was a-a snowflake or not, is neither here nor there to your predicament,” Jane managed to say with head held high, though her throat had stained red with the embarrassment of blunt confession. She added in a rush, because her sister-in-law was staring at her as if she had run mad, “You are not to breathe that revelation to another living soul, particularly not to your brother.”
“Of course not, Jane. Never.” Caroline inched closer to Jane, green eyes very wide. “Was it your nurse who told you not to tell Salt?”
Jane blinked at the question, and then put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Oh, Caro! No. No. Silly me! I gave you the wrong impression altogether, for which I apologize. There has never been any other man but Magnus, so banish those evil thoughts about me, wicked sister. But he would be furiously embarrassed, and very disappointed in me, if he ever discovered his little sister knew we had made love before going up before parson.”
“He is such a stick in the mud!” Caroline complained good-naturedly. “And become so stuffy since marrying you, that it is hard to believe he ever had a mistress in his past, least of all dozens of them!”
“Thank you, Caro, I believe we will keep your brother’s past where it belongs.”
“Yes, of course,” Caroline murmured, though she could not help adding cheekily, “But I always knew him to have a soft center, and where you are concerned his heart has always ruled his stuffy head. Which is no bad thing.” She squeezed Jane’s hand. “Thank you for taking me into your confidence.”
Jane smiled and returned the pressure on Caroline’s fingers.
“I confided this in you so you are aware you’re not the only member of this family to have allowed lust to overrule good sense—”
“But you and Salt were in love,” Caroline argued. “What happened at the masquerade had nothing to do with love! And my absurd marriage to Aldershot—”
“As for your marriage to Aldershot,” Jane repeated, cutting Caroline off before she could spiral away into another episode of self-recrimination, “you were married for two years. So unless Antony is a complete simpleton, he is not expecting you to be a snowflake on your wedding night, is he?”
“No, no, he is not,” Caroline murmured and blushed, not because the thought had never occurred to her, but because there was a matter of a more serious nature, one that crippled her with guilt and made her so ashamed that she had never been able to bring herself to confide this in Jane. She wondered what Sir Antony would think of her should he ever discover her shameful secret? Would he forgive her? Would he ever trust her? Would he ever want such a woman as his wife? She thought not. Better she lose his love than his respect. She shuddered at the prospect.
“So you have nothing to tell him, have you?” Jane reasoned as she stood and shook out her glazed cotton petticoats.
“No. No. I do not,” Caroline murmured, up on her stocking feet. She smiled, not because she was any less miserable, but because she did not want to add to Jane’s burden. What was the point of ruminating further on a future with Sir Antony she knew was impossible?
“Now you must excuse me.” Jane kissed her sister-in-law’s forehead. “Sam will be wailing by this hour and I dare not leave him with his nursery maid much longer. The girl is young and quite new to the household. Salt scares the poor creature witless.”
“He scares everyone witless,” Caroline replied good-naturedly, following her to the outer door. “If not for you, dearest Jane, the servants would be dropping with fright on a regular basis.”
Both women parted with an affectionate kiss, but Jane’s smile died the moment a liveried footman closed the door to Lady Caroline’s apartment. She hurried to the nursery, an unre
asonable dread pressing on her chest. Until she saw her children safely tucked up in their little beds and the baby in his cradle, her thudding heart would not quiet.
NINE
JANE TOOK THE STAIRCASE connecting her private rooms with the nursery directly above on the third floor. She found Nanny Browne supervising the nursery maids setting to rights the toys and furniture in the playroom, and went through to the spacious bedchamber occupied by her two eldest children. The room had no doors, but was kept warm by a velvet portière pulled across the doorway at sleep times, and a constant coal fire in the grate of a large fireplace. Its warm, orange glow illuminated the polished brass back of a tapestry fire screen that provided a comforting light should the children wake in the night.
Her heart slowed and swelled with love seeing Ned and Beth deep asleep in their beds, tired-out little bodies tucked up under soft coverlets. Her son clutched his favorite toy, a much-loved cloth monkey stitched by his Aunt Caro, while her daughter had a chubby arm flung above her head of black curls tucked up in a lace nightcap, face turned on the down pillow towards the wallpaper. Satisfied, she went through to the baby’s room. Here her infant son spent his sleeping hours during the day, watched over by the new nursery maid. He would be spending more of his time here, now they were in London and she was required to fulfill her duties as Countess and attend and host dinner parties, something she was sure would be a regular occurrence with Salt returning to his government posts. A second cradle remained in her bedchamber and she had been reluctant to have it removed until the wet nurse was installed. Caroline’s news of Diana’s return from exile decided her: Sam would continue to spend his nights in her bedchamber until she was convinced her children were safe from harm.
Her expression must have given away her deep anxiety, because the new nursery maid so far forgot herself as to address Jane before she herself was addressed, saying with concern as she bobbed a curtsy,
“Forgive me, my lady. I only picked him up the once. He’d been fretting. He’s ever so hungry—”
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