“Foolish beyond permission,” murmured Jane as she reached his side.
Apparently without a thought for propriety, and ignoring the fact that he was clad in nothing but a too-small nightshirt, she placed her left arm around his waist, while he placed his right one around her shoulders.
Though it was true that he was far from his usual strength, he leaned on her a trifle more than was necessary, tightening his arm and bringing her closer against his side.
She felt surprisingly good there, and it struck him quite suddenly that her height suited him very well. In fact, if he were to turn her and hold her in a full embrace, she would fit him perfectly. He would need only to lower his head slightly in order to kiss her.
At that moment, they reached the bed, and Jane looked up at him, her lips slightly parted as if she had been privy to his thoughts. He slowly dragged his gaze from those lips. They stared into each other’s eyes for long seconds, until it occurred to him that what he was thinking and feeling was dangerous. In truth, he wanted to do far more than simply kiss her. Old habits died hard, it seemed.
It took every ounce of his will-power to remove his arm from her shoulders and lower himself to the bed, but he did so, feeling quite noble, albeit extremely frustrated. He was aided, however, in this heroic effort by the fact that his wound had begun throbbing viciously again.
Jane tried not to think of what had just occurred between them as she saw to his wound and re-dressed it, and neither of them spoke as she worked.
But when she was done and had made him more comfortable, he said, “I waited for you to return to me after dinner. Why did you not come sooner?”
She thought of her discouraging meeting with Mr. Phillips, and of the equally disheartening time she had later spent poring over the account books. But that was her own problem. Forcing a smile, she said, “Oh, I became so engrossed in going over the accounts that I did not notice the time.”
Apparently her smile did not fool him, for he frowned and said, “I have not seen you looking so blue-devilled before. What is wrong?”
“Nothing to concern you,” she said with a lightness she did not feel. “It is simply that the numbers will never come out as I wish them to.”
Looking relieved, he said, “If that is all that is bothering you, bring the books up to me and I shall tally them for you. In any event, it is no job for a female.” He ignored her indignant gasp and, frowning again, added, “Although I do not see why your Mr. Phillips could not do it. Do you not trust him?”
“Why, of course I do. He has managed the estate since before my father’s death. And when I said the numbers did not come out as I wish, I did not mean that I am incapable of adding them up correctly. As Mr. Phillips explains it, the problem is simply a sign of the times. The cost of everything has risen out of all proportion to the amount of revenue an estate of this size can bring in.”
She had not meant to reveal so much of her financial situation to him, but now that she thought of it, perhaps it was just as well. So far she had done nothing about her resolve to try to reform him. Perhaps it would be a step in that direction if she did allow him to go over the accounts and become familiar with managing an estate. If he showed any aptitude for or interest in it, she might be able to help him find a position in that field.
Looking at her thoughtfully, he said, “Nevertheless, I should like to see those books. It will be killing two birds with one stone. I can, perhaps, help you while relieving my own boredom.”
“Very well,” she said lightly, “but not tonight, for it is very late. I shall have Melrose bring them to you first thing in the morning.”
From his look of astonishment, it was clear that he had expected more resistance from her, and she left the room just barely suppressing the urge to laugh. She was still smiling a short time later as she climbed into bed. She was surprised at how light-hearted she felt. Usually it took her much longer to throw off the dismals brought on by her meetings with the estate manager.
She fell asleep with the thought that, at least in some ways, Jon’s company seemed to be good for her.
CHAPTER SIX
Jane was still feeling exceptionally carefree the following morning when she came downstairs. Seeing Melrose in the hall, she stopped to make arrangements to have the account books taken to Jon when next the butler went up to care for their patient’s more intimate needs.
Without the least hint of the surprise he must have felt upon hearing such a request, Melrose agreed with his usual aplomb, then followed his mistress into the breakfast room.
But when Jane entered the room, she discovered that Agatha, who was there before her, looked as if a small black rain-cloud were hanging over her head.
Taking her own place at the table, Jane waited until Melrose had served her and left them alone before saying, “Good heavens, Agatha, you look as if you had received some dreadful news. I do hope that is not the case.”
Laying her napkin on the table, Agatha replied, “Oh, my dear, I fear it is so. At least—but perhaps I am wrong. Oh dear, it is so difficult to know what to think.”
“Why don’t you try telling me about it?” said Jane calmly.
“Yes,” agreed Agatha. “Perhaps I had better. You see, Mr. Simpson came by this morning to bring a chicken in payment for your treatment of that infected cut on his hand.”
Mr. Simpson was one of Jane’s tenants. She said automatically, “He needn’t have done that.” Then her lips quivered slightly as she added, “But I fail to see how that can be such terrible news—unless the poor chicken is very old and stringy?’’
“No, no! That is not the bad news. It is what he told Cook when he brought the chicken.”
“And what is that?” asked Jane.
Agatha sighed, then lowered her voice and declared dramatically, “It is the highwayman. He has struck again, and this time much closer to home, for it was the squire’s carriage he held up last night.”
“Oh, my,” Jane murmured with a frown. “So close to Dunby?”
“Well, no. He still seems to prefer the environs of Leeds. When I said that it had happened closer to home, I meant only that this time the victim was one of our own neighbours. I cannot say what Sir Alfred was doing, returning from Leeds so late at night, but you know what he is.”
Agatha did not approve of the squire, who was one of the Prince Regent’s rather decadent set.
Jane ignored her companion’s comment and said, “How terrible for the squire.” But her face had brightened considerably, and she continued, “But, in a way, it is good news.”
For a dreadful moment, she had feared that Jon had somehow managed to leave the house last night to ply his trade, but now she realized that such a thing was patently absurd. Even were it not for his wound, which would make riding extremely uncomfortable, if not impossible, he was far too weak to have ridden all the way to Leeds.
Certainly, if the highwayman had struck while Jon was safely ensconced here at Meadowbrook, they could not be one and the same person. Of course, it was very wrong of him to have deceived her so, and she fully intended to have that out with him. Still, it was a great relief to know that he was not, after all, a criminal.
Agatha was looking at her as though she had lost her senses.
“Don’t you see, Agatha?” Jane explained eagerly. “This proves that Jo—that Mr. Sebast cannot be the highwayman.”
Instead of looking pleased, Agatha merely shook her head sadly and said with great reluctance, “It proves that he could not have robbed the squire last night, but I fear that it does not prove his innocence in the matter.”
“What on earth do you mean?” demanded Jane. “Of course it proves his innocence.”
“Oh, my dear, I very much fear I have made a dreadful mistake,” said the older woman, shaking her head again. “And all because I wished so much to believe—but that is neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is that I knew he had an accomplice.”
“An accomplice! Will you please tell
me what you are talking about?” cried Jane.
Agatha explained about the message Jon had asked her to send to the man Kearny, and as she did so, Jane felt the heaviness of disappointment settle over her. She bit her lip as she recalled that just before entering his chamber last night, she thought she had heard voices. Subsequent events had blotted that from her mind, but now it seemed very significant, especially as she had found him standing at the open window.
Silence fell as Jane sat, frowning thoughtfully, toying with the food on her plate.
Agatha watched her worriedly, but after several minutes, when Jane still had not spoken, she asked, “What shall we do?”
Jane straightened in her chair and said firmly, “Why, nothing at all. We shall go on as before.”
She had quickly decided that there was no reason at all for her spirits to be so lowered. Nothing had really changed, except that now it was more important than ever to get on with her goal. In point of fact, she was even more determined to try to turn Jon from his wayward and destructive path.
“But should we not at least tell the squire of our suspicions?” Agatha enquired doubtfully.
“Certainly not! Suspicion is all we have, and that is not enough to condemn a man. And it is not as if we did not suspect from the beginning that Mr. Sebast was the highwayman.” Jane did not add that Jon had, in fact, admitted as much to her.
“Yes,” conceded Agatha with a puzzled expression. “But do you know, I had convinced myself that we were wrong and that he was a gentleman. I don’t know how my intuition could have led me so far astray. It has never done so before.”
Agatha seemed more overset by the thought that her intuition had played her false than she was by the confirmation that Jon was the highwayman, and Jane had to smile. “Well, if it will make you feel any better,” she said, “I am in perfect agreement with you. I believe he is a gentleman, or at least was bred to be one. Furthermore, I do not believe he is beyond being reformed.”
“Indeed it does make me feel better,” said Agatha after a moment. “If that is so, perhaps my intuition was not so wrong, after all. Still, our first duty must be to get him well enough to leave here, which does not give you much time to reform him. But you know it would not do to have him here when Alice arrives.”
Nor did it leave much time for her own hopes and plans to mature, she thought sadly, but perhaps that was just as well. As much as she longed to see Jane happily married, she could not suppose that a highwayman—even a reformed one, with the manners of a gentleman—would make an appropriate husband. These reflections, however, Agatha kept to herself.
“No,” said Jane, “but I do not expect Alice until the end of the week, and in the meantime, I have already begun my campaign to turn our highwayman in another direction.”
“How?” asked Agatha curiously.
Jane flushed slightly. “Well, as he expressed an interest in doing so, I am allowing him to look over the account books.”
“Good heavens!” said her companion, sounding gleeful and shocked at the same time. “I would never have dreamed that you, of all people, would be so vulgar as to permit a near stranger to become privy to your rather straitened circumstances.”
Jane’s flush deepened. “You know perfectly well that I would not ordinarily do so, but I believe that, in this case, such a breach of good taste may be justified by the result. Do you not see? If Mr. Sebast shows some aptitude for estate management, perhaps... perhaps the vicar may know of someone who may hire him in that capacity.”
At that moment the discussion was brought to an abrupt end as both women became aware of some sort of commotion in the entry hall. They stared at each other in dismay as a young female voice was heard over the rest of the hubbub.
Fearing the worst, Jane rose from the table and left the breakfast room.
In the entry hall, Melrose was staring dumbly at a huge pile of baggage as if he did not understand what it was or how it had got there. He looked up, clearly appalled, as more of the stuff was carried in by two liveried footmen.
In the midst of this mountain of luggage stood an extremely pretty girl with blond curls framing her heart-shaped face, and dressed in a fashionable sprigged muslin gown. She was removing her gloves as she directed the footmen to set the various pieces down wherever they could find room. Then, catching sight of Jane, she lifted her skirts immodestly high, climbed over the pile of bags, bandboxes and trunks, and hurried towards her hostess.
“Oh, Miss Lockwood! The most exciting thing has happened. Papa was actually robbed by the highwayman last night! Can you believe it? Oh, how I wish I had been there.”
“Yes, I am sure it would have been most diverting for you,” said Jane dryly, hiding her dismay at this turn of events. “But, my dear Alice, I was not expecting you quite so soon.”
“Oh, well. Papa knew that you would not mind in the least,” Alice replied airily. “And you must know how dreadfully overset he was by his encounter with that devilish rogue. He decided that he must spend a few days in Brighton to calm his nerves before setting out for the Continent.”
Not wishing to begin their relationship by criticizing the girl, Jane had said nothing about the unladylike way in which Alice had climbed over her baggage. But she really could not let this pass. “My dear,” she said quietly, so that none of the servants would hear, “one should always start out as one means to go on, and that being the case, it is my duty to tell you that you must not use such terms as ‘devilish rogue.’“
Alice’s lovely blue eyes widened innocently. “But that is what Papa calls the highwayman.”
Jane refrained from saying that the squire should not be using such language in his daughter’s presence. But since it was not, thank heaven, a part of her job to try to change the father’s ways, she only said, “That may very well be. But men are free to say and do a great many things which are not at all proper for a lady.”
Alice put her hands on her hips and said indignantly, “Well, it all seems very silly to me, and not at all fair.”
Jane had difficulty suppressing a smile as she suddenly thought of how Jon would laugh at that when she told him. Yes, and most likely agree wholeheartedly. But before she could answer, another girl, scarcely older than Alice, entered the house. From her mode of dress, and demeanor, it was not difficult to guess that this was Alice’s abigail.
Jane regarded the newcomer with a mixture of relief and chagrin: relief, because she knew that if Elsie were forced to wait upon Alice, she would no doubt leave in a huff before the day was out; chagrin because every additional person in the house made it more difficult to keep Jon’s presence a secret.
Doing her best to force that worry from her mind, she spent much of the morning getting Alice settled in, which was no easy chore. The amount of baggage the girl had brought with her made it necessary to prepare a larger chamber than had originally been planned for her use. And with only Elsie to help her, since Agatha was kept occupied in trying to entertain Alice, Jane was obliged to do most of the work.
In addition, she was called out to tend one of her tenants for a stomach complaint which proved to be no more than a touch of dyspepsia, easily relieved. The performance of this small service took up the remainder of the morning.
By noon, Jane was exhausted and longing to escape her seemingly endless tasks to see how Jon fared. With that object in mind, immediately after their nuncheon, she set her reluctant young charge to reading a book entitled Correct Conduct and Manners for Young Females. Only then did she feel it safe to look in on her patient.
Slipping through the door of his chamber a few minutes later and closing it quickly behind her, she felt distressingly like a sneak-thief.
But Jon seemed not to notice her furtiveness as be looked up and said, “Where the devil have you been? I wished to discuss these....” He stopped, and a slow smile spread over his face before he broke into laughter. “Good God, woman! What has happened to you? You look as if you had been dragged through the brush backwa
rds.”
Jane’s hands flew to her hair. Sure enough, her cap was missing, and most of her hair seemed to have come loose from its usual neat arrangement. She spent only a moment in trying to smooth it, however, deciding that as he had already seen her like this, it was too late to do anything about it. Instead, she sank down wearily onto the bedside chair and began to tell him about Alice and her agreement with the squire to take his daughter into her home for a short time, and to coach that rather lively young lady in how to conduct herself in Society.
When she reached the point in her story concerning Alice’s unexpected arrival, she discovered that she had been perfectly right. He did laugh, and he agreed with Alice’s views on the unfairness of propriety. Amazingly, Jane found herself laughing with him. For he had also listened to her tale with interest and sympathized with her plight when she expressed doubts over the enormity of the task before her. In any event, she felt immensely better after she had unburdened herself.
He reached out to touch her hand when she was done. “Poor honey,” he said, and Jane nearly melted at the endearment as well as at his touch.
Despising herself for blushing again, she looked away. “Yes, well, I suppose I have only myself to blame.”
“I’ll not argue with you there,” he teased. “But what have you done with the chit? Locked her in her chamber?”
Jane could not prevent another laugh at that. “Don’t think I would not love to,” she retorted. “But no. I have her reading a very improving book on deportment.”
“Good God! If you have managed to command such docility from her already, I don’t see that you should have any problem with her at all.”
Looking very sheepish, Jane said, “I fear I neither managed nor commanded her compliance. In fact, I bribed her.”
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