by Julia Parks
“Yes, and then she shops or reads or walks in the gardens. She is an amateur gardener.”
“Laura Place is the perfect setting, being so close to Sidney Gardens as well as the shops and the Pump Room.”
“Yes, Mother swears she much prefers it to the country.”
”Then I suppose you’re glad I wouldn’t sell you Heartland.”
“Definitely. And this way, I can visit its beautiful mistress.”
Jane frowned. She was unused to receiving such fulsome compliments. Such comments in the past had been delivered in a taunting manner, and she was unsure how to reply.
“Why so serious, Jane? Normally, a lady responds when she receives a compliment.”
“I’m sorry, Lord Devlin. I thought you were teasing me.”
He stopped and scanned the immediate vicinity. The gardener was working nearby, and Drew pulled Jane behind a row of shrubbery They were quite alone except for the buzzing of a bee.
He took her in his arms and murmured, “I was in earnest then, and I am now, as well.”
With this, he lowered his lips to hers. Returning his kiss eagerly, Jane was surprised when he raised his head and released her. He took her hand and placed it on his arm again before leading her back by the garden.
Drew would have explored the garden further, but Jane said, “Let’s go back in. I am tired.”
b
Drew left soon afterwards, feeling very pleased with himself. He had shown Jane that he cared for her reputation, that he respected her and that he was not simply trifling with her. And she had been disappointed by their brief kiss. That meant she cared for him. He hoped.
Yes, she must care. She didn’t go about kissing every man who spoke to her—that was absurd!
That first night she had only kissed him because…Why had she kissed him at the Valentine Ball? She hadn’t liked him above half. So why?
He urged his grey stallion to a gallop. He was going crazy, his jealousy rendering his judgement faulty, and he admitted he was jealous at the thought of Jane kissing anyone else. He slowed the big horse to a walk, controlling it easily as the animal shook its head to protest.
He tried to remember that first kiss. How had she returned his kiss—expertly or inexpertly? It had been sweet, he remembered that very well. Her response had been tentative, and then she had given full rein to her passion, moulding her body to his.
“Damn!” he said aloud.
Why hadn’t he kissed her like that in the garden when he had the chance? The devil take chivalry and gentleman-like behaviour! He would escort her home after the Assembly, and he would kiss her as she had never been kissed before!
b
Jane was restless. She didn’t know why, precisely, but since her walk in the garden with Drew, she’d found it impossible to sit still. She lifted her grandmother’s brooch and noted the time. If she forgot about tea, she would have time for a good ride before dinner.
Jane made her way upstairs cautiously. If she met Tucker along the way, she could forget about riding. Tucker would protest because of her injury.
Jane changed as quickly as possible, folding her discarded gown and placing it in the back of the wardrobe. She removed the loose bandage and picked up her tan leather riding gloves. Then she made her escape down the back stairs.
Once she was clear of the grounds, Jane let Sinbad fly. Bending low over the horse’s neck, her billowing hair melded with the long mane. Over all the fences, high and low, they sailed. Finally though, the run had to end, and she eased back on the reins. Jane was too good a horsewoman to think about anything but gradually cooling her horse for the next fifteen or twenty minutes.
Then she was ready to think about some very difficult questions. So, she first reviewed the facts. First, Drew’s kisses were very enjoyable. Second, he seemed to enjoy kissing her, too. And third, he had never indicated he wanted anything further. Certainly love had not been mentioned nor marriage. Even Jane hadn’t thought about such a possibility.
What did Drew want with her? He couldn’t believe she would accept a carte blanche. But what other possibility was there? Perhaps he found her innocent passion amusing. But that couldn’t be it either, or he would have kissed her—really kissed her—in the garden earlier.
Jane’s experience with men in social situations was limitless, but her experience in romance was nil. The closest thing to romance she could recall had been nothing but business—fortune hunters hoping to contract a lucrative future by marrying her. She hadn’t even been kissed except once, at fourteen, by the old rector’s son. And that had been wet and disgusting.
Jane knew her behaviour hadn’t been ladylike. What if Drew felt she had been too free, too fast? Perhaps he’d had her kisses and that was all he wanted. But at five and twenty, Jane knew there was more between a man and a woman. She could recall every word of her friend Sally’s vivid description about what happened on her wedding night. That had been informative, and only last year hadn’t she interrupted the stable boy with one of the local village girls under the haystack? She remembered how they had moaned, unaware that she was riding by. The girl’s dress had been around her hips, and the boy—
Jane trembled, trying to get rid of the painful longing that flooded her body. She shifted in the saddle, but it didn’t help, so she turned Sinbad around, urging him to a canter as she headed home.
Tomorrow night, I will ask Drew to accompany me home in the carriage. I will tell him my maid is ill and unable to travel to Bath. It will be late, so such a request won’t seem unusual. And then I will make him kiss me!
b
Jane stretched like a cat as Tucker laid out her clothes for the morning. Tucker was very much on her dignity after Jane’s secret ride the day before.
“Which dress will you be wearing tonight, Miss Jane?”
“The new red and silver one.”
“And your hair?”
“I wish I could wear it down. It is much easier.” And Drew likes my hair down. “Getting it to stay up takes so many pins, I can hardly hold up my head.”
Fashion debates always loosened Tucker up, and she laughed. “Ye’re exaggeratin’, Miss Jane. But I think I’ve an idea. I have some of the silver braid left over from the reticule I knitted to match the dress. Why don’t I thread it through the white net and make a snood? It would be very becoming and wear much better.”
“What a clever idea. Tucker, you’re a genius. I’ll feel so elegant.”
“Because you will be, Miss Jane.”
“Of course, I shan’t be fashionable. Catching one’s hair up in a net, no matter how becoming it may be, is just not fashionable.”
“Do you care so much?” asked Tucker, as if bewildered by her sudden infatuation with current fashions.
“No, not really. I was just making an observation. Do you think you might have time to sew some seed pearls here and there on the net?”
“I’ll see to it.”
“Oh, Tucker, I’d forgotten—one reason I chose this fabric was because it would match Grandmother’s ruby pendant. But the catch is broken.”
“I’ll get Mickey to leave for Bath right now. He’ll be back quick as the cat can lick her whiskers.”
Taking up the heart-shaped pendant, Tucker hurried away.
b
Jane had never felt more beautiful as she studied her image in the cheval glass. The dress was in the prevailing empire style, made of a deep-scarlet silk. The neckline and short puffed sleeves were edged with tiny ruches in white organdie trimmed with a row of delicate silver braid. A strand of pearls bound on either side by the silver braid separated the deeply cut bodice from the full skirt. The bottom of the skirt measured a full four yards around, another unfashionable detail, but Jane had insisted. She loved the way it flared as she twirled this way and that, imitating the movements of a waltz.
Only one detail was missing—the heart-shaped pendant. She had ceased asking if Mickey had returned yet. Finally her unfashionable but flattering snood de
corated her brown hair, and Jane picked up her reticule and Norwich shawl. She heard a commotion at the bottom of the stairs, and picking up her skirt, she ran down the steps.
“Mickey! What happened? Pipkin?”
With the entrance of his mistress, Pipkin jumped up from his undignified position on the floor beside Mickey and began clearing the entrance hall. The hysterical maids vanished, leaving several footmen, Jane, Tucker, Pipkin, and the unfortunate Mickey.
“Take him to my quarters,” said the butler.
Pipkin’s rooms were nearby, being located on the first floor with a view of the front door. It took four stout footmen to lift the huge servant. Tucker brought the case of medicines and began to clean Mickey’s wounds. Jane waited patiently in the background.
“Now, Mickey, tell us what happened.”
His eyes glistening with tears, Mickey moaned repeatedly, “I lost ’t, Miss Jane. I lost ’t.”
“Lost what, Mickey?”
“Yer necklace. Please, Miss Jane, don’ send me away.”
“I should say not, Mickey! Tell me, how was it lost?”
“This man, a bad man in a mask and with a long cape, ’e made me give ’t to him. ’E ’ad a gun. I said no! But ’e said, ‘I’ll shoot yer horse.’ I couldn’ let ’im shoot Toby.”
Jane smiled. Mickey would have died before giving in to the highwayman, but he had to protect the old, broken-down horse Jane had given him.
“You did the right thing, Mickey. You and Toby are more important than a necklace.”
Even as she reassured him, Jane felt close to collapse. Her grandmother’s pendant, the one worn by all the Heartland women—gone!
She took a deep breath and asked; “How did you get hurt, Mickey?”
“I tried to chase the bad man, but I fell off. I hit my head. I didn’ wake up for hours.”
“How do you feel now?”
“My head hurts, but I’m all right. It was awfully bloody; it scared me.”
“I know; a head bleeds very badly. We’re all happy you’re better, Mickey.” She smiled into his childlike eyes and turned to go.
At the door, she paused when he asked tearfully, “Do you still like me, Miss Jane?”
“Yes, Mickey, I still like you very much.”
Wearily, Jane climbed the stairs. She looked through her remaining jewellery and selected a necklace of perfectly matched pearls. They would go with her new dress, too.
b
It was a subdued Jane who was ushered into the yellow salon in Laura Place. Drew crossed the room and led her to the sofa. His mother greeted her warmly. Jane replied suitably, but her manner was listless.
“I hope you like duck, Jane,” said Mrs. Peterson. “I hesitated to serve it. It seems to be one of those dishes one either loves or abhors.”
“Duck is fine, ma’am. I’m looking forward to it.”
“That is a beautiful gown, Jane,” said Drew.
Jane turned a weak smile on him, and her eyes filled with sudden tears. Drew sat down by her side and put a comforting arm around her. “What is it, Jane? What has happened?”
“I’ll go and get some brandy.” His mother rose and hurried from the room.
Jane fumbled with her reticule for her handkerchief. Drew thrust his own into her trembling hands and asked again, “What is wrong?”
“My necklace, my grandmother’s pendant…” She blew her nose.
“The one you wore to the Valentine Ball?”
She nodded without stopping to wonder why he would remember such a detail. “It’s gone, stolen, a highwayman—”
He grabbed both her arms and spun her around to face him. His black expression was frightening.
“Did he hurt you? Touch you?”
Jane frowned, then realized his mistake. “No, it wasn’t stolen from me! I had sent it to Bath with Mickey to have the clasp repaired.” Drew released her arms and relaxed against the back of the sofa. “A highwayman stopped him and demanded the necklace. He threatened to shoot Mickey’s old pony, so he gave it to the thief. Then Mickey tried to follow the scoundrel and fell off. He hit his head and was unconscious for several hours.”
“Is Mickey all right now?”
“Yes, for the most part. He was afraid I wouldn’t like him any more. He’s such a sweet boy.”
“Hardly a boy. He’s as old as you, my dear.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Tell me, when did the robbery occur? On the way to Bath or on the way home?”
“On the way home, I think. I didn’t ask. Why?”
“Think about it, Jane. A highwayman who stops servants on old horses? He would soon die of malnutrition. How could he know Mickey was carrying something of value? There are two possibilities: either the highwayman is connected to Heartland or he was in the jeweller’s shop. I assume you have notified the local magistrate?” She nodded. “Good. I will inquire tomorrow at the jeweller’s to see if there were any strange characters standing about when they returned the repaired pendant to your footman. Talk to Mickey to ascertain when the robbery took place. If it was on the way to Bath, that narrows the list of suspects considerably.”
“Oh, Drew, it couldn’t be one of our servants. They’re practically family.”
“No one new of late?”
“Well, there is Sims. He came to us from my cousin Roland. But he seems a decent fellow.” Jane paused. “Although Pipkin doesn’t trust him.”
“If your Pipkin doesn’t trust the man, I wouldn’t either.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him. But first I’ll ask Mickey if he ever made it to Bath.”
“Good. Feeling better?”
“Yes, it feels good to be doing something. I’m sorry for turning into a watering pot, Drew. I didn’t realize how upset I was about losing the pendant. I never cry—at least not in company.”
“You need never cover up your feelings from me, Jane.”
Drew’s voice was as soft as a caress, and Jane leaned forward expectantly.
“Here we are!” said Mrs. Peterson brightly as she entered carrying a tray with glasses and a decanter. Jane straightened up. “I thought wine would be more suitable. Are you feeling more the thing, my dear?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Jane, accepting the goblet.
“Good! Now, tell me what to expect at tonight’s assembly.”
“There will be dancing, of course, and some rather bland refreshments. As far as the company? I haven’t been to the assemblies in over a year, so I’m afraid I’m no help there.”
“Of course, I had forgotten. Drew told me you were in mourning. I’m so sorry, dear.”
“Thank you. The assemblies are not as rigidly controlled as they once were, as you may be aware. When Beau Nash ruled Bath’s social scene, all assemblies ended at eleven o’clock sharp. When the Princess Amelia asked Nash for just one more dance at eleven, she was refused. Back then, every assembly began with the minuet, one couple at a time. It took two hours!”
“How tedious, especially if one didn’t particularly care for one’s partner.”
“That’s what I thought, but no one dared to suggest that to Mr. Nash,” laughed Jane.
“Dinner, my lord, ladies,” said their very proper butler.
Jane grinned, wondering which scripture Pipkin would have chosen to elaborate on this announcement. She caught Drew’s eyes on her, twinkling as if he had guessed her thoughts.
After seating his mother at one end of the table, Drew escorted Jane to her chair. Leaning over, he whispered, “Perhaps, ‘For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.’”
Jane giggled; then she bit her lip in embarrassment. Drew’s mother, however, was smiling benignly on both of them. For the first time, Jane wondered why she was the only guest. It was almost as though Faith Peterson considered her one of the family.
Reinforcing this suspicion, Mrs. Peterson said, “I do hope you’ll forgive our being so casual, Jane. The formal dining
room and table are so large we would have been reduced to shouting at one another. This had been a small sitting room, but I thought it ideal for a family dining room. It is close enough to the kitchens that our meals are even hot.”
“It is lovely, Mrs. Peterson. You have an eye for colours.”
Faith beamed and urged Jane to try the turtle soup.
“I haven’t asked you about your hand, Jane. How is it today? Ready for dancing?” teased Drew.
“Healing nicely, thank you.”
“Drew told me about the accident. It’s a wonder you weren’t hurt worse. And all those hours of work wasted!”
“Now that is exactly what I said,” agreed Jane. “You must make your own preserves, too.”
“Yes, my specialty is peach.”
“Do you know, I have never made peach. Mrs. Brown, our cook, makes it, but even she admits it isn’t exceptional.”
“I’ll write down my recipe for her, if you don’t think she would be insulted. I know how sensitive cooks can be, and the last thing one wants is an angry cook.”
“I think she would appreciate it.”
b
Through all this, Drew sipped his wine and observed. He felt very lucky to be in company with his two favourite ladies. And the fact that they enjoyed one another’s company only pleased him more.
He watched Jane over the top of his glass, studying her objectively as a work of art. She was so elegant in the deep-red gown. And that hair net—whatever it was called—added to her timeless beauty. His eyes strayed to her deep décolletage, and his thoughts lost their ethereal quality. He wanted her as he had never wanted any other woman. He wanted to be with her, to comfort her when she cried, to kiss her and hold her when she was weary. He wanted, quite plainly, to love her and to make her feel loved.
“Drew, have we put you to sleep with our domestic talk?”
“Certainly not, Mother. I was merely wool gathering.” He turned to Jane and smiled. “I was wondering if I might persuade Jane to ride with me tomorrow.”
Jane returned his warm smile and accepted.
“Good!” Drew looked toward the end of the table to find his mother’s fond gaze resting on him.