The Marquess Finds Romance

by McBride, Bess

  Love had come quietly, deeply, and profoundly. It hadn’t hit her like a freight train or struck her like a bolt of lightning. She remembered the moment when she knew she had fallen in love with the man who had the worst luck with love. They had been visiting with the sheep—something that still surprised Janie that Viscount Carswell seemed to enjoy petting farm animals—when three or four ewes started butting at each other in a competition to receive James’s caresses around their ears.

  He had looked up at Janie and laughed, a wonderfully joyful sound that almost brought her to tears. It was all Janie could do not to push the ewes out of the way and hug James herself, to feel his hands outline her waist, slide up her spine. She would have been thrilled to take an affectionate tickle behind her ears as James did with the sheep.

  She had laughed with him before turning away to wipe moisture from the corners of her eyes. The man with the worst luck in love was about to lose another woman.

  Janie had not seen or heard from Hickstrom in the intervening week, but once Clara returned, Janie was scheduled to return home. The return ticket had not yet been booked, but the promise had been extracted and made, or so Janie believed. She never could really remember what she and Hickstrom had agreed to. The fairy godmother was slippery.

  The previous day, Janie had called for Hickstrom to consult with the fairy godmother on the specifics of her departure, but Hickstrom hadn’t appeared. Janie had tried again throughout the day, with no response, no appearance.

  It was quite possible that once Janie saw Clara and assured herself that her best friend was happy and safe, that she, Janie, would simply vanish. She had no idea how or when Hickstrom planned to return Janie to the twenty-first century, and she hesitated to ask Mary or Rachel for specific details. She really didn’t want to know, not before it had to happen.

  “Is that too tight, Miss Ferguson?” Sarah asked that evening, snapping Janie out of her reverie. Though Janie was perfectly able to get in and out of her stays, Mary had asked the maid to help Janie dress.

  “No, that’s fine, Sarah, thank you.”

  “Yes, miss,” Sarah said. She crossed the room to pick up the dress Mary had ordered for the ball, a beautiful silk gown in shining ivory.

  Janie held up her arms, and Sarah dropped the dress over her shoulders. Janie touched the shimmering gossamer overskirt, feeling quite like Cinderella on her way to the ball. Her slippers were black though and not a bit like glass. Still, Janie fully expected to arrive at and leave the ball on the arm of Viscount Charming.

  Sarah tied up the back of the dress, and then Janie sent the maid away. She sat down in front of the dressing table mirror and fiddled with her hair until she had it anchored on top of her head. She caught the faint sound of a tap on the door.

  Relieved that Mary had come and could fix her mop, she called out,

  “Come in!”

  The mirror reflected Hickstrom floating into the room in cranberry-red silk with an ornate silver embroidered bodice and overskirt. Janie spun around on the bench and rose.

  “Hickstrom!” she said. “What a stunning gown!”

  “Thank you,” Hickstrom said, pirouetting and preening. “It is a favorite, but I do not wear it often. I have had it for years and years.”

  Since the style was mid-seventeenth century, Janie wondered just how long Hickstrom had it...and how old she was. She had other things on her mind at the moment though.

  “I’ve been calling you,” Janie said.

  “Yes, dear, I heard you. I had so many other lonely hearts to attend, I simply could not come as quickly as you might like.”

  “Hickstrom, I’m not a lonely heart.” Janie knew she was lying, but she liked the sound of her words. They sounded so...independent! At the moment, she felt anything but independent. Her heart—her lonely heart—was soothed only by the presence of James...and maybe the sheep.

  “If that is true, Janie, then why do you call upon me? For you know that tending to the lovelorn is my calling. Or did you simply wish me to visit? How very delightful! I see that you are dressed for the ball. I shall attend the ball as well.”

  “You? Are you invited?” Janie heard her words. “No, I don’t mean that the way it sounds. I just mean...do you know the Fairchilds?”

  “Yes, of course, my dear. I have attended balls at Fairchild House before.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were acquainted with them. Hickstrom?”

  Hickstrom moved toward the dressing table mirror and twirled in front of it. Her skirts floated with her.

  “Yes, Janie?”

  “Don’t take offense, but how old are you? That style of dress is from another century.”

  Hickstrom stopped preening and turned to face Janie.

  “One never asks a lady her age, dear. I am old enough to be your fairy godmother.”

  She turned to face the mirror again.

  “I thought you liked my gown,” she said.

  “Oh, I do, Hickstrom. It’s stunning. I’m not saying it’s not beautiful. It’s just—” Janie shut her mouth as Hickstrom looked down at her skirts with a rare frown. “It’s perfect, Hickstrom, just perfect!”

  “I prefer this style of gown. And may I remind you that we are barely into the new century. I am not so wasteful that I throw away my dresses simply because women have decided to raise their waistlines!”

  “It’s beautiful, Hickstrom. I can’t imagine you wearing anything else.”

  “Thank you, dear Janie. Now, what was it that you wanted to see me about?”

  “Clara is coming back next week,” Janie said.

  “Indeed, I believe you mentioned that before.”

  “Well, you and I agreed that I would go back after she returned. Should we talk about that?”

  “I am not certain that we had a formal agreement, but I am aware that was your desire. Do not say that you wish to depart moments after her return—I thought you might want to visit with her!”

  “No, no, of course not! I do want to visit with her. I’m just asking what your plans were. Are you going to disappear me without warning? Or are you going to let me know ahead of time? Wave your magic wand or whatever you do?”

  “I do so wish that I had a magic wand. How wonderful that would be! But I am not so fortunate. What do you mean ‘disappear me’? Janie, I have often thought that your grammar leaves something to be desired.”

  “Thanks,” Janie said dryly. “Well, I don’t know what you call it when you send people back to the future, but you know what I mean?”

  “If I did, I would not have asked for clarification. When I sent Mary, Rachel and Clara home, I said that I sent them ‘home.’ Is that where you wish to go?”

  Janie couldn’t answer the question, didn’t want to answer the question. “I was asking how it would work when you sent me home, if you were going to let me know ahead of time.”

  Hickstrom shook her head and tsked. “Janie, Janie, do you not wish to be a marchioness? Everything would be so much simpler if you desired such.”

  “No! No! No, Hickstrom, I do not want to marry anyone else!”

  Hickstrom ignored Janie’s vehemence and tilted her head.

  “Anyone else? What can you mean?”

  “I mean I don’t want to marry a marquess. That’s all! And that’s final! Please, Hickstrom, please don’t push this any further. It was never my destiny to marry a marquess. If it was, I would have been in the book. And no, I don’t care about revised versions.”

  Janie folded her arms mutinously over her chest.

  Hickstrom studied her for a moment, appearing not in the least disturbed by Janie’s display of temper.

  “How is Lord Carswell?” Hickstrom asked out of the blue.

  “He’s fine,” Janie responded with narrowed eyes.

  “Have your...sentiments toward him changed? I detect a certain something...” Hickstrom arched an eyebrow.

  “Maybe,” Janie said. “He’s not quite the ogre I thought he was.”

  �
�Oh, no,” Hickstrom said. “That was St. John. No one was as unpleasant as he was.”

  “Do you mean when you trapped him in his castle?” Janie asked in a dry voice.

  “He was not trapped within the castle proper. He had the grounds and parklands at his disposal.”

  “Oh, Hickstrom.” Janie sighed. The woman was obstinate and unapologetic. “Anyway, I’ve gotten to know James quite a bit over the past week, and he’s not as grouchy as I thought. In fact, he’s really very nice. Very.”

  “You sound quite taken with him,” Hickstrom said.

  “It doesn’t matter though, does it? I’m going home. You said he couldn’t marry me, and if I stay, I have to marry a marquess. Isn’t that about right?”

  “I did say all those things.”

  “But you can change them, Hickstrom. You have the power to do anything you want.”

  “My powers are not absolute, Janie. If they were, I would have facilitated a romance between you and Lord Carswell. But the pair of you has thwarted me at every turn.”

  Hickstrom regarded Janie with an enigmatic expression, a slight smile on her lips but giving away nothing.

  “Oh, I don’t know, ma’am. You’re not slipping,” Janie said with a crooked grin. “You probably got your romance...at least on my side. I can’t speak for James, because he seemed very infatuated with Clara, but you got your way with me.”

  Hickstrom’s smile broadened. “Got my way indeed! Such language!”

  Janie responded with an embarrassed smile. “I’m in love with him,” she said, dipping her head to avoid the older woman’s gaze.

  Hickstrom clapped. “But that is delightful, Janie. Simply delightful!”

  “I think he likes me just fine, but then there’s Clara.”

  “A mere infatuation, as you say, dear. You must not worry.”

  “I’m not worried,” Janie said. “Okay, I am, but you just said you can’t change what you ordained. James is a viscount, and I’m just a maid when all is said and done.”

  “Such an exaggeration, Janie. You are much more than a maid, and you are aware of your worth. I stated only that you would marry a kind, considerate man and that you would become a marchioness. Why will no one listen to me?”

  “I—”

  A knock on the door brought Mary.

  “Hickstrom!” she exclaimed. “Did you bypass the front door again?”

  “Yes, I did. Do forgive me, Mary dearest. I must leave now, but I shall see you both at the ball.”

  “You don’t have to run off on my account,” Mary said to thin air. Hickstrom had vanished.

  “How does she do that?” Mary asked. “What did she want?”

  “I’ve been calling her, and she finally showed up.”

  “What did you want, or should I not ask?”

  “No, that’s fine. I was just wondering how she sent people back to the future. If she told them ahead of time or...” Janie ran out of words.

  “I see. She doesn’t give much warning usually when she’s sending people to the past...at least the first time. You were the exception. So far, Rachel, Clara and I have all known when we were returning to the nineteenth century because at least two of us had to scramble to find Hickstrom’s Book of Fairy Tales.

  “Returning to the future though, that’s always been iffy. I know it was for me and Rachel. While we thought we wanted to go back, when the moment came...and Hickstrom was there...we didn’t want to go, but she sort of made us go anyway. Well, I don’t know. The time of return is always a bit confusing because our fairy godmother is usually fed up with us by then. But in the end, she always gets her way...so far.”

  Janie tried to follow Mary to find some logic, some predictability in her recap of events, but the only consistency she could understand was that Hickstrom always got what she wanted.

  “That’s what I told her,” Janie said, still as unclear about her pending departure as ever. She berated herself for not just picking a day to return and letting Hickstrom know the date. But in her heart, Janie knew that she couldn’t make that choice. She thought she’d rather the fairy godmother just pluck her up without notice and send her back...if she had to go. The coming week would tell her how James felt about Clara when she returned. Janie hoped she was there to see his face when he looked at her best friend. She would know everything by then...what James wanted. If only she could figure out what Hickstrom really wanted.

  Hours later, Janie stood next to Mary and St. John in the glittering ballroom at Fairchild House. James, on her right, hadn’t left her side. She had encouraged him to go dance, but he had declined.

  “I am satisfied where I am,” he said. “The company is most enjoyable.”

  Janie’s cheeks, in a perpetual state of blush around him, burned, and she looked down at the glass of punch in her gloved hands.

  “I’m sorry I can’t dance. Mary wanted to give me lessons, but I said no. I don’t think I could remember the steps. I can waltz though! Not very well, but that’s okay.”

  “Ah! The waltz. I have not yet had the pleasure. I do not attend balls often in Bedfordshire, and as you know, I rarely visit London. I have heard that some gatherings are including the waltz, but I believe Lady Fairchild frowns upon the dance. Perhaps people will grow more comfortable with the waltz in the future. I certainly hope so.”

  “They will,” Janie said.

  “I am pleased to hear such. When that happy time comes, it would be my pleasure to accompany you onto the dance floor,” James said.

  “Oh! I don’t know. That’s some time into the future. I won’t—” Janie stopped stuttering at the look on James’s face. The muscle in his jaw ticked, and his blue eyes darkened.

  “You will not be here,” James finished for her.

  “Right.” Janie looked away from him and toward the dance floor. “And you’ll be at Wayburn Hall.”

  “Yes. If you return, that is where I will be.”

  Janie’s heart bounced around in her chest. “Return? Oh, I don’t think that’s the way Hickstrom works.”

  “The lady can do anything she desires.”

  Janie wasn’t quite sure whom James was talking about...Hickstrom or her.

  “She’s sending me back. I don’t know when though. Pretty soon, I think. Next week.”

  “You await Clara’s return,” James said in a flat tone.

  “Yes. I’m anxious to see her, to see how she’s doing. Then I think Hickstrom will send me back.”

  James fell silent and turned his head to watch the dancers.

  “You’re waiting to see Clara too, aren’t you?” Janie asked.

  He didn’t respond right away, and when Janie thought he wasn’t going to answer, he drew in a deep breath.

  “Yes, I await her return. I did not tell you before, but Clara wrote to Miss Hickstrom and expressed her unhappiness with the circumstances of our parting. Miss Hickstrom suggested I delay my business in London until Clara returns so that she may speak with me, or I her. I wish her to know that I harbor no ill will...none at all.”

  “No, I’m sure you don’t,” Janie said, her heart in her throat. “You said that you were in love with her.”

  James turned to look at her, eyeing her so long without a word that Janie squirmed.

  “Well, you did say so. I wouldn’t expect you to harbor any ill will against her. You don’t seem to be the type to hold grudges, and Clara wouldn’t want you to. I’m sure she never meant to hurt you.”

  He continued to study her face without speaking.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lord Carswell searched Janie’s face. He wanted to beg her to remain, to abandon her plans to leave. But Janie was set on returning to her own time. She had no desire to remain in the nineteenth century, and no desire to return once gone. Had he not suggested such? And had she not denied the possibility of returning?

  Janie stayed only to see Clara upon her return, and then she wished to leave. He himself was ambivalent about Clara’s return. Only as litt
le as a week before, he had still been lamenting the loss of her. But time had done much to change his sentiments—time spent with Miss Janie Ferguson.

  Looking into her blue eyes, Lord Carswell cursed himself yet again for having thought so poorly of her, her mannerisms, her employment, her behavior. She was a lady of the future, and he had judged her harshly according to the standards of his time. Clara acted similarly, but he had admired her spirit, her independence, even the way she spoke, assuming those features to be idiosyncratically nineteenth-century American.

  Only later had he discovered that Clara’s uniqueness had come from a time far into the future. Yet Janie came from the same time bearing the same eccentric characteristics, and he had criticized her, certainly to St. John.

  Why, he could not know. Perhaps his heart had been wounded as he’d sought to protect Clara from some unknown menace only to be humiliated to discover no such danger existed. Perhaps he had seen from an early moment that it was Janie who would possess his heart as Clara could never have done, and he had feared true heartbreak, not the simple mortification he had endured. Perhaps it was that woman, Miss Hickstrom, and her vexatious matchmaking that had set up his hackles and turned him against Janie from the outset. He could not know.

  He only knew that he was most profoundly attached to Miss Janie Ferguson, and he wished her to become his wife. Yet he could not ask, would not ask. She wanted to return to her time, and he could not burden her with unwelcome romanticisms. Had he not done so most recently to abysmal failure? Did he not at that moment await Clara’s return to extend his hand in friendship over a similar debacle in which the lady did not welcome his advances?

  “You’re staring at me, James,” Janie said.

  James blinked, breaking the spell she had over him.

  “I beg your pardon. How rude of me. What were you saying?”