'Your parents will not be worrying, for I have said I will escort you home as soon as you are fit enough to travel.'
'But Jack may do something idiotic if I am not there to prevent it!' Isabella fretted.
'He will, if my judgment of him is accurate, return to London and endeavour to forget the whole in a bout of drinking. He will not be feeling proud of his actions towards Clare or yourself.'
'That is not all. I must see him soon!'
'What else is there?'
*
She stared at him, unwilling to expose more of Jack's folly to Jason, who, though only a few years older, was infinitely more capable of handling his affairs, and would be likely to despise Jack's weaknesses. But Jason's eyes as they stared into hers were strangely compelling, and she found herself telling him the whole sorry tale of Jack's debts, and his final folly in betting on the races with yet more borrowed money.
'That is why he was so bitter over his losses at Newmarket,' she concluded. 'He had backed you heavily and was too concerned about his plight to be rational.'
'Foolish, but understandable,' Jason commented. 'Was he hoping to borrow from you?'
She shook her head. 'No. He knows I have no money, and though Father has helped him once or twice in the past, he cannot afford to again. Besides, even though it is only for a few hundred pounds, he knows it would not end there. Jack has never relied on himself. But what can I do to help him? He is hoping to marry an heiress, but who is there?' she ended despairingly.
'You mean now Frances is no longer available?' he queried, and she glanced quickly at him, noting the sardonic gleam in his eyes. 'He is not ready for marriage to anyone. What he needs is a spell in the army. I wonder your father has not arranged it.'
'He would have done,' Isabella sprang quickly to her father's defence, 'but Jack would have none of it. He wants a post at Court, and thinks to advance himself that way.'
'He has not the wit for that, at least not at the moment. I will pay his debts on condition that he goes into the army,' Jason stated suddenly.
Isabella gasped in amazement. 'You! But – but why? What claim has he on you?'
Jason laughed. 'I feel responsible, having destroyed his schemes! But apart from that, as we are going to be cousins by marriage, that gives me the right to help him.' He looked at her quizzically, but she did not notice, being preoccupied with thinking the cousinship was a rather remote one, and wondering if Jason realised Jack was not Frances' cousin. But he was continuing.
'I believe his estates are in a poor condition also?'
'Yes,' she admitted reluctantly. 'They could be made to yield more, but Jack has not the knowledge, or, I fear, the patience to tend them, and his agent is not reliable.'
'Then I will make it a further condition he employs Moffat for a few years, until the old man is ready to retire. He has been my steward here, and has worked wonders since my father died,' Jason explained. 'But now I propose to deal with my affairs myself, he will not be fully occupied. He has been in sole charge for so long I fear he would be restless, but a challenge like this would delight him, I'll warrant.'
'You are kind! I know not what to say, except that you should not!'
'I will approach Sir Jack.'
He brushed aside her objections, and smoothly turned the conversation onto harmless topics. Then he offered to show her some of the garden.
'If you feel strong enough, that is?'
She was determined to try, and they walked slowly along the gravelled walks, enjoying the spring sunshine. Isabella admired the early flowers that rioted in the well kept beds, but soon she began to drag her steps, and thankfully leaned on Jason's arm as he turned back towards the house. Dinner was ready, and he led her straight into the dining parlour where she sank into a chair with some relief.
'Drink this,' he commanded, pouring her a glass of wine. She complied, and laughed slightly.
'I feel so stupid! To be so feeble after a mere knock on the head!'
He grinned down at her. 'Fit to ride to London today, Isabella?'
'I fear not. But I must be a great trouble to you when you are busy!'
'Not at all. But I insist you rest this afternoon, and you can have an easy conscience, for I shall be with Moffat, tidying up my affairs, which was the purpose of my visit!'
He chatted easily throughout the meal and Isabella revived, finding him a most entertaining companion. At the end of the meal Mistress Grendon was summoned to escort Isabella upstairs, but to the satisfaction of both Isabella had recovered enough to walk up the stairs unaided. She was glad, however, to remove her dress and lie down, and was almost immediately asleep.
When she awoke the sun was very low in the sky behind the hills, and after dressing, and discovering from the maid who attended her that Jason was still with his steward, she determined to try her strength again by walking in the gardens. She was much stronger, and went further than that morning, out of the formal gardens and into a wilder part, admiring the clumps of primroses scattered across the grass. She had reached a gate that led to a meadow, and was leaning on it admiring the sunset when Jason found her. He came quietly up beside her, and she turned to smile at him.
'Are you finished?' she queried.
'For today. How are you feeling now?'
'Much, much better. I must go home tomorrow.'
'Why so eager to leave me?'
'It – it is not right I should stay here alone with you!' she exclaimed.
He raised his eyebrows. 'I thought you did not care for propriety?'
'It is not conventional I stay here,' she answered.
'Are you afraid of me?'
'Not at all!' she retorted indignantly, but stepped back quickly as he turned towards her.
He laughed softly. 'Our situation may not be conventional, but it is delightful, is it not, my sweet Isabella?'
*
Before she could retreat any further he had his arms about her, and was kissing her, gently at first, but with growing passion. She stood immobile for a moment, too startled to move, and then, at the horrifying realisation she was enjoying his kisses, struggled to free herself from his embrace. Immediately he released her, though prudently gaining control of her hands.
'How dare you!' she exclaimed, more furious with her own response than with him. 'You take advantage of my position here, my weakness, to insult me!'
'Such a kiss is no insult,' he chuckled, unabashed. 'Besides, if I had waited until you were fully recovered again, I might not have succeeded!'
'You – you are intolerable! I pity Frances for the bargain she has made!' she retorted, striving in vain to free her hands.
Jason laughed. 'She will be happy – as happy as Clare, though both have chosen poor men. But Frances is able to use her own wealth to ensure her comfort, and he is sensible enough to accept it.'
'Naturally!' she snapped. 'It is quite in character. But how could you offer to pay Jack's debts if you were poor? Were you simply trying to make me grateful to you? Or did you intend to use Frances' money? How despicable!'
'If I were, it would be,' he replied, amused. 'But who told you Frances was marrying me?'
She looked up at him, her anger arrested. 'At my aunt's, the maid, she said Frances was betrothed, and you had gone suddenly to your estates!'
'But that, surely you must have guessed, was in pique that the heiress had slipped from my grasp,' he replied with a laugh. 'I came to plot dire revenge!'
'Then – who?'
'Robert Edes, of course. Had you not noticed how assiduously he has been courting Frances? And how eagerly she was welcoming his attentions?'
'Robert Edes!' Isabella was so astonished she did not realise Jason had slipped his arm about her.
'He went to see Lady Lyndon on the morning Clare left,' he explained. 'She sent for my uncle, and as I was with him, I heard the news almost immediately. I went to see Frances before coming home.'
'But – you said you were coming to prepare for your wedding,' she
said accusingly.
'No, you said that, but it was true. It was simply that no wedding has yet been arranged. I needed to set my affairs in order, my love, before I could ask you to be my wife. But now, after these two days together, I cannot wait any longer. Isabella, my dearest, will you marry me?'
She stared at him, conflicting emotions expressed on her face. The shock of realising he was not after all betrothed to Frances, and the desire to forget all else in submitting to his kisses, warred with an ingrained caution and disbelief that so attractive a man could want to marry her. It was incredible, and being what she was, Isabella could not believe it. Then the explanation hit her like a douche of cold water and her expression went blank. Having been alone with her for two days, he could in honour do nothing else. But he was not allowing it to show, whispering endearments to her, and pretending passion as again his lips sought hers.
She twisted her face away.
'No! I cannot! Please, Jason!'
He raised his head, then grasped her shoulders and forced her to look at him.
'What ails you, my love?' he asked, in so gentle a tone that Isabella was hard put to it to hold back her tears.
'You do not have to,' she managed to whisper, and turned away from him. 'No one need know where I have been, and I am sure your servants are discreet!'
He stared down at her averted head, and smiled in understanding.
'Forgive me, I had not thought to distress you. I will say no more now. It is almost time for supper. Would you prefer to take it in your room?'
Thankfully she nodded and he turned, offering her his arm, and in silence they walked back to the house. In the hall Isabella turned impulsively towards him.
'I am grateful for all you have done, please believe me,' she said composedly. 'I would not be an embarrassment to you.'
*
She turned away, biting her lip, and with tears blinding her stumbled up the stairs. Mistress Grendon was soon with her, helping her into bed, and gently chiding her for exerting herself too much. Isabella pecked at her supper, eating only to prevent the good woman's further reproaches, and was thankful when she was finally alone.
But she could not sleep. The memory of Jason's kisses, and the bitterness of knowing they were a mere politeness, forced from him because of their situation, kept her tossing restlessly for hours after she had blown out her candle.
Lying there in the darkness, the sounds of the house seemed unusually magnified. Isabella heard the door of Jason's room, next to her own, open and close. After a few minutes it opened again, and footsteps sounded along the passage, halting outside her own door. Isabella lay still, her heart beating wildly, wondering what he intended, but the footsteps retreated and with a sigh of relief she realised his door had been closed.
Relaxing, Isabella turned over again, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow, but before she had settled more noises brought her upright in her bed, listening intently.
This time the noises came from downstairs. A horse, ridden hard, approached the house, and confused shouts came as the rider dismounted and began hammering on the front door.
'Open! In God's name, open!'
Isabella swung her feet out of bed and reached hastily for the wrap Mistress Grendon had found for her. It was Jack's voice. How had he discovered her, and what did he mean by making such a commotion?
Barefoot, clutching the wrap to her, she found her way in the darkness to the door and pulled it open. Outside she could see Jason, in shirt and breeches, at the head of the stairs and a cluster of frightened maids at the entrance of the passage that led to their bedrooms. Down in the hall, illuminated by a lantern placed on a side table, one of the menservants was eyeing the securely bolted front door nervously.
'Open the door, I know the fellow,' Jason ordered crisply, and reluctantly the man obeyed. Jason was half way down the stairs, with Isabella close behind him, when the heavy door swung back, revealing Jack, his cloak over his left arm, and his sword brandished in the other. His wig was awry, his cravat had come undone, and his eyes sparkled with a wild, desperate look.
Seeing him, the servant attempted to slam the door, but Jack was too quick for him, stepping into the hall and threatening the man with his sword, so that he stepped hastily back. Jack laughed and flung his cloak to the man, then his glance swept from him to Jason on the stairs, and Isabella behind. With an oath he sprang forward.
'So! I have found you, Marlowe! I did not believe that goddamned tale of Isabella's being hurt! Knave! You will pay for what you have done to her!'
'Jack, put down your sword! Don't be a fool!' Isabella cried out, but he continued to advance, flourishing his sword, until he reached the foot of the stairs. There he stopped with Jason, unarmed, just out of reach, and grinned wildly up at them both.
'I've caught you, you slut! Preaching to me, you're no better than a whore yourself!'
'Such insults to your cousin are unwarranted. Will you take them back voluntarily, or must I choke you with them?' Jason asked evenly.
'Try, villain!' Jack flung at him, and began to mount the stairs.
With a cry, Isabella flung herself forward towards Jack, who ignored her, his eyes intent on Jason. Jason put out his arm to catch Isabella, who missed her footing on the stairs and fell heavily against him just as Jack's sword flashed towards him. The point pierced Jason's arm, drawing a spurt of blood that quickly stained his sleeve. Jason's arms were about Isabella, and for a few moments Jack hesitated, unsure whether it was her blood. It gave Jason sufficient time to set Isabella back on her feet and leap down the remaining few stairs past Jack.
'You madman,' Jason said calmly. 'If you have aught to discuss, put down that sword and let us talk sensibly.'
Jack swung towards him, shaking off Isabella who tried to cling to his arm. Seeing he was blind with rage, unable to listen to reason, Jason looked round for a weapon. There was nothing within reach except a stool, and Jason grasped that, fending off Jack's attack with it, then leaping onto the long table which was in the centre of the room.
Jack rushed towards him, but was incapable of finesse. His wild thrusts and slashes were parried with the stool, Jason's stance on the table enabling him to ward off the blows. Then Jason manoeuvred so that Jack's sword was caught in the legs of the stool, and with a sudden twist sent the sword, dragged from Jack's grasp, clattering over the stone floor. For a moment Jack stood bewildered, but as Jason, casting away the stool, leaped from the table towards him, him arms came up to defend himself from the blows he dimly realised were aimed at him. It took Jason only one blow. Feinting with his right hand, he crashed his left fist onto Jack's jaw and Jack fell to the floor. Jason stood over him, ready to administer more punishment if necessary, but Jack, groaning and nursing his bruised jaw, lay staring up, making no attempt to rise to his feet.
*
Isabella, after her futile effort to restrain Jack, had remained on the bottom step, clutching the banisters, watching the fight tensely. It was she who first saw the man who came in through the front door, halting breathless at the scene before him.
'Jason, the door!' she cried out in alarm, fearing another attacker, and Jason glanced to where she pointed.
'Dick!' he exclaimed 'Here, sit down, man.' He pulled forward a chair and the man sank wearily into it.
'Thank God you're not hurt, sir!' the man gasped. 'I ran as fast as I could!'
'What happened?'
'I took your letter to Lyndon House, sir, and he,' indicating Jack, 'said he'd come back with me to escort the lady up to London. It seemed he was her cousin, and Lady Lyndon agreed, so I brought him along. But he's been drinking at every inn we've passed. Then a mile along the road, where we turn into the lane leading here, he dismounted, saying his horse had cast a shoe. Well, I got down to look and he pulled his sword on me, and before I could do aught about it, he'd remounted and was off, with my horse as well!'
Jason laughed. 'You fool, Dick, to be caught like that!' He glanced at Jack, now sitting
morosely on the floor, holding his head between his hands. 'He's in no state to trick you again. He needs sobering up. Take him out into the kitchen yard, and put him under the pump. Afterwards, find him a bed, but be sure to lock him in! Ned, give Dick a hand.'
With an enthusiasm that boded no mercy for their victim, the two stalwarts bore down upon Sir Jack and, ignoring his feeble protests, heaved him to his feet and guided his steps towards the kitchen. Isabella watched them go, then turned back to Jason. She noticed the bloodstain on his sleeve, and her eyes widened in fear.
'Jason, you are hurt!'
He glanced down at it. 'A mere scratch. I will soon deal with it.'
'I will do it. Fetch water and bandages,' she ordered, and one of the maids hastened to obey. 'The rest of you can go back to bed. Be sure the door is fastened.'
Jason looked on, amused, as they scurried away, then, the maid returning with the bowl of water and some pieces of linen, he directed her to take them into the small parlour. Isabella dismissed the girl and told Jason to sit in the chair beside the fire which was still alight. As he meekly obeyed her, a twinkle in his eye which she tried to ignore, she rolled up his shirt sleeve and dealt efficiently with the wound, which was slight. She insisted on bandaging it, and as she tied the last knot he caught her hand in his and prevented her from moving away.
'Thank you, my love.' He raised his other hand and gently his fingers traced the marks of tears on her cheeks. 'What is this? Not new tears, for my injury or for your cousin. Tell me.'
She shook her head, but he slid his arm round her waist and pulled her down so that she was sitting on his knees.
'Please, Jason! You must not!'
'I must, for I cannot see you unhappy. There are things we must say, and now might be the only opportunity. Your fire-eating cousin will not leave us alone tomorrow, you can be sure of that! He will wish to drag you off to London the moment he wakes. Or I might keep him imprisoned for a time?'
She chuckled. 'I am so ashamed of him! After what you were proposing to do for him, too!'
'He was not aware of that. And I am still proposing to do it. He's a young fool, but he might improve after some army discipline. But I have no wish to talk of him. My concern is with you. Why will you not marry me?'
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