A London Season

by Patricia Bray

  The silence stretched, while she thought furiously. What was she to do now? Where would she begin? Could the boys have been exaggerating the extent of the trouble?

  Glendale broke into her thoughts. “You look troubled. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Jane was about to refuse when a thought struck her. “Matthew,” she asked. “How does one go about buying tickets for the mail coach? Lady Barton will not be pleased to find my brothers here. And Mama is undoubtedly worried sick about them. I think it best if I send them home as soon as possible.”

  Getting the boys home was the least of her worries, but it was the only one she could share with him. She could feel her heart growing heavier as the full scope of the disaster began to sink in.

  “Let me make the necessary arrangements,” Glendale offered.

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t impose,” Jane protested, for politeness’ sake.

  “Nonsense. It is no trouble. My secretary Stapleton is a paragon of efficiency. He’ll know just what has to be done. And he’s forever complaining that I lead such a quiet life that he has nothing to do.”

  His self-mocking tone brought a smile to her lips. “Thank you,” Jane said, touched by his kindness.

  “My privilege to be of service,” Glendale said, rising. “And I can see that you have other things on your mind, so I will leave you now. It has been a pleasure, Miss Sedgwick.” He paused for a moment on the threshold. “Oh, and don’t be too hard on your brothers. They seem like good sorts.”

  Glendale was in a thoughtful mood as he returned to his town house. It had been a most unusual afternoon. First there had been that strange tension between himself and Jane. And just when it seemed that they were about to get back on their easy footing, the arrival of her brothers had broken the mood.

  And what exactly was the meaning of their presence in London? Their visit was no schoolboy prank. The twins had traveled the breadth of the country to find their sister. It was either the most harebrained stunt in creation, or a sign of a disaster of unimaginable proportions.

  He had joined her and the boys for tea, in hopes that his presence would deflect Lady Barton’s wrath. And although Lady Barton hadn’t appeared, he had remained, impelled by his own curiosity. But instead of answers he found only more questions. The boys acted freely enough in his presence. And, if their appetites were any sign, they had no pressing troubles.

  But something in their tale had distressed Jane, causing her hands to shake, and her face to go pale. She recovered herself quickly, but after knowing her for these last weeks, Glendale was able to see the signs of strain that others would have missed. What was it in the boys’ story that troubled her so? Was it the death of this Percival, whoever he was? Could he be a country swain, left behind as she entered the fashionable world?

  The thought of a Jane with her country lover disturbed him. He attempted to reassure himself that her reactions were not those of a grieving woman. No, it was something else that had haunted her eyes.

  She looked so helpless that he longed to enfold her in his arms, and promise her that he would make everything all right. The impulse had shocked him, as no doubt the gesture would have shocked her. Instead he offered her the more conventional comfort of his assistance.

  He expected his offer to be refused, having learned that Jane treasured her independence. Her acceptance was just another sign that something was severely awry.

  His thoughts chased themselves around until his brain was weary with suppositions. Enough. There was no point in speculating until he had more information. But how could he find out more? Jane had made no attempt to confide in him. Her brothers could tell him more, but he could think of no excuse to get them alone. Or could he?

  When he reached his town house, the first thing he did was seek out his loyal secretary. “Stapleton. Just the man I wanted to see,” Glendale said, striding into his secretary’s office.

  Stapleton rose from his chair. If his employer’s enthusiastic greeting startled him, he gave no sign.

  “How may I serve you?” Stapleton asked calmly.

  “Sit, sit,” Glendale said, perching on a corner of the desk, as Stapleton resumed his seat. Glendale peered at his secretary closely before continuing. “You’re looking fatigued, Stapleton. I work you too hard. I think a rest is in order. Yes, some time in the country is just what you need.”

  “My lord?”

  “You’re going to Barkhamsted. That’s in Yorkshire,” Glendale said helpfully. He stood up and began to pace, too restless to sit still. He grinned as he glanced over at his unflappable secretary. If anyone could find out what was going on, Stapleton could.

  “And what will I be doing in Yorkshire?”

  “Miss Sedgwick’s two brothers have paid an unexpected visit to London. They need to be returned home at once.”

  “And you want me to go with them to ensure that they do not take any unauthorized side trips?” Stapleton surmised.

  “Not exactly. Although that is the excuse I’ll give, should Miss Sedgwick ask any questions. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. This jaunt to London was more than a lark. There’s something fishy about this whole business. Something is troubling Jane and I want to know what it is.” Glendale winced as he realized he had used Jane’s given name.

  “I see,” Stapleton said, with a complete lack of expression. “I am to go to Yorkshire, and see what I can find out.”

  Sudden doubts assailed him. Was he overreacting? He could be making a fuss over nothing. But his instincts told him otherwise.

  “Exactly. I don’t know if there is anything there or not, but if there is, I know you will find it out.”

  “Your confidence in me is appreciated, my lord. When would you like us to leave?”

  “Tomorrow’s too soon, but Lady Barton is sure to kick up the dust over the boys being here at all. Make the arrangements for Friday, the day after tomorrow. Let me know when everything is ready, and I’ll inform Jane, er—Miss Sedgwick.”

  “Very good, my lord. Is there anything else?”

  “No, that’s all,” Glendale said with satisfaction. He could trust Stapleton to accomplish the job. If there was anything there, he would find it. And in a short time, Glendale would have the key to the mystery of Miss Jane Sedgwick.

  Chapter Eight

  Jane opened her eyes as the first rays of dawn crept across her windowsill. The morning light signalled an end to the longest night of her life, and it was with relief that she rose from her bed, anxious to begin the day. Her troubles had weighed heavily on her mind all evening, causing her to lie awake for hours. Even when she slept, it was in fitful starts, wakening time and time again from some half-remembered nightmare.

  But now it was time for action. Unwilling to wait a moment longer, Jane crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out the first gown that met her eye. She dressed herself quickly, fretting over the tiny buttons that Sally managed with such ease.

  Jane sat at the dressing table, brushing her hair. She peered forward at her reflection in the glass. Did the sleepless night show? No, the face that peered back at her was the same as always. A stranger might think her without a care in the world.

  As Jane continued brushing, her mind turned back to the recriminations that had kept her awake. This disaster was all her fault. She should have seen it coming, and made preparations. They should never have mortgaged the Hall. But the mortgage had been the only way to pay off their debts, she reminded herself.

  Then she should never have rented out the Hall to strangers, even if it was the only way to pay off the mortgage. Although how could she have known that the tenants would prove untrustworthy? The Bennetts had come highly recommended.

  Jane twisted her hair into a knot, then pinned it up. Bending down, she checked her reflection in the glass. No, she thought, it wasn’t the tenants who were the problem. They could have ridden out this storm if they hadn’t spent their savings on Percival George.

  Be honest, she scolded herself. The re
ason for her anger wasn’t the mortgage, the tenants, or even the hapless Percival. She was angry at herself. In the past weeks she had let herself get caught up in the giddy whirl of the London Season, and the pleasure of Lord Glendale’s company. She had completely lost sight of the reason for her visit. She, who had always prided herself on her good sense, was as foolish as Rosemarie.

  Well, no more, Jane vowed silently. She had come to London to find a husband, and by heaven she would. No more wasting time with dandies who were only interested in a harmless flirtation. From now on she would confine her attentions to gentlemen who were serious in their intentions.

  But who among her many admirers could she turn to? There was not one among them that she could think of who would be willing to offer her marriage. Lord David Cartland? No. Lord David was amusing, but she had seen no sign that he regarded her with any special warmth. And with his expectations he could look far higher than the penniless granddaughter of a duke for his bride. Perhaps Mr. Conard would do. He might be willing, but then again his propensity for gambling was well known. She needed a husband who could help her, not plunge them further into debt.

  Jane cast her mind over the gentlemen who had squired her about the past weeks, but for some reason she could not imagine sharing her life with any of them. The image of Lord Glendale flashed through her mind. It was his fault, she decided. His attentions had been so flattering that they left her no time to think of anything else. He had flirted with her and paid her compliments and shown a flattering desire to be in her company. With Matthew she felt that she could be herself, yet at the same time he made her feel as if she was a beautiful and desirable woman. It was enough to turn any girl’s head.

  If only he had ever shown any sign that he regarded their relationship as more than a harmless flirtation. But she might as well wish for the moon and the stars, as for Lord Glendale to come up to scratch.

  Even before her family’s impoverishment, it would have been an unequal match. And she had little faith that her own attractions would prove irresistible. How could she hope to capture Matthew’s heart, when so many other women had failed to do so? Perhaps if she had had more time, things might have been different. But there was no time, and the dreams that she had cherished to herself would have to be forsaken. It was time that she stopped dreaming, and resigned herself to a marriage of convenience.

  Thus resolved, she made her way down the corridor to the room where the boys were staying. She tapped lightly at the paneled door.

  “Bobby, Dick, are you awake?” Jane called.

  She heard a rustling sound, and Bobby opened the door. “Morning, Jane. We’ve been waiting for you,” he said, busily tucking his shirttail into his breeches.

  “And we’re starving,” Dick added.

  Jane surveyed her brothers. She would have to do something about their clothing. Someone had brushed their jackets and mended the tears, but they would never be more than barely presentable. And of course extra clothes hadn’t been among the items the boys thought necessary for the journey.

  “Come with me then, and we’ll see about breakfast.” The boys clumped into the hall, their boots making an unholy racket on the polished floor. “Be quiet,” she cautioned. “We don’t want to wake Lady Barton.”

  The twins nodded in agreement, and began tiptoeing down the hall with elaborate caution. Their meeting last night with Lady Barton had been an unpleasant experience for all concerned. Only Jane’s repeated promise that the boys would return home to Barkhamsted immediately had preserved the peace.

  The servants had finally resigned themselves to her habit of rising early, so even at this hour the sideboard in the breakfast room was filled with a variety of breakfast dishes. The twins dug into their food with the enthusiasm that only growing boys can muster. Jane had little appetite, contenting herself with a cup of chocolate and a roll.

  “What are we going to do today?” Dick asked, around a mouthful of toast.

  Jane had made her plans during the long sleepless night, so was able to reply without hesitation. “I have some errands to run, and you will be coming with me.”

  “Capital!” Dick exclaimed.

  “This is not a reward,” Jane said reprovingly. “You are still in disgrace. But I promised Lady Barton that I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, so there’s no help for it.”

  The twins refused to be quashed. “Mama will punish us anyway. So as long as we’re here, we might as well enjoy it,” Bobby said cheerfully.

  Jane shook her head ruefully, helpless in the face of twelve-year-old logic.

  Two hours later, she was wishing that she had left the boys back at the Hall, and risked Lady Barton’s wrath. The twins were bundles of inexhaustible energy. Everything about London excited their interest. They scornfully dismissed the carriage as old-fashioned, but that didn’t prevent them from trying to hang their heads out the windows, to ensure that they didn’t miss anything.

  She took them first to Goodwin’s Dry Goods Emporium, to purchase ready-made clothes for the trip home. True to their word, the boys never left her side. But the lure of the shop, with its counters displaying every imaginable type of merchandise, proved a powerful temptation. They dragged her first one way then another, as the brightly colored goods caught their fancy.

  Next, she had the coachmen drive them to Bond Street. The coachman let them down at the end of the street, and Jane instructed him to return in an hour. With one hand firmly on the package in her cloak pocket, she led the boys to their destination.

  “Here it is,” Jane announced.

  “We can wait for you outside,” Dick offered, after a quick glance at Francesca’s plate glass window with its display of bonnets and hats for every occasion.

  “We promise we won’t go anywhere.” Bobby said, nodding vigorously in agreement.

  Jane had anticipated their reactions when she planned this morning’s itinerary. “No, I think you had better come in with me. This may take a while, and I wouldn’t want you to get into any mischief.”

  The boys looked so crestfallen that she forbore to tease them any longer. “Very well,” she said, “Do you see the green sign that says Rawlings’ Circulating Library?” Jane indicated a small shop that was three doors down.

  “I see it!” Bobby crowed.

  She fixed them with a stern look. “You may wait for me in there. But only if you promise not to cause trouble, and not to leave until I come fetch you.”

  The twins promised, relieved by their narrow escape. Jane watched them until they entered the library. Then she turned and walked into Francesca’s. The young woman at the counter betrayed no surprise when Jane returned the bonnet for refurbishing. “I know I asked for the trimmings to be primrose, but it looks simply frightful with my gown,” Jane explained. “Please have this redone in scarlet instead, and sent over to Lady Barton’s.”

  The assistant accepted the explanation, and promised to have it ready in a few days. Her ostensible reason for the trip satisfied, Jane hurried out of the shop and across the street to Blackman’s.

  The bell above the door tinkled as she entered the shop, and the middle-aged man behind the counter looked up. Jane was relieved to see that there were no other customers in the store. The clerk’s gaze swept over her assessingly, and Jane knew he was wondering at the appearance of an unescorted young lady in his domain.

  “Mr. Johnson at your service. How may I help you?” A true professional, there was nothing in his face or voice to indicate his opinion of his unusual customer.

  Jane hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the counter. She withdrew a small, flat box from the pocket of her cloak and placed it on the counter. “I need your help with a delicate matter,” she explained. She opened the box with hands that trembled only slightly.

  Mr. Johnson’s gaze sharpened at the sight of the pearl choker and matching earbobs. A wave of panic swept over Jane, urging her to snatch up the box and leave before it was too late. But she ruthlessly suppressed her feelings
, and forced herself to look up at the clerk.

  “May I?” he asked.

  She nodded, touched by his politeness. Mr. Johnson lifted the pearl necklace from the case reverently, holding it up to the light, and then examined it from every angle. The earbobs received a similar scrutiny.

  With a show of reluctance he returned the jewels to the case. “A most unusual set,” he commented. “It isn’t often that we see such heirloom pieces.” It was not quite a question.

  Jane extracted a slip of paper from her reticule. “The proof of ownership is here,” she said drily.

  “Of course,” Mr. Johnson said, but he accepted the certificate nonetheless. Jane gave thanks that she had thought to ask her solicitor Timerson for the certificate, just in case she needed to dispose of the jewels. Without it, none of the reputable shops would deal with her. And the less reputable establishments would take advantage of her by paying less than the jewels were worth.

  “Are you looking to sell the jewels outright, or to have us act as your agent?” the clerk enquired. At Jane’s blank look he continued, “If we act as your agent, you may obtain a higher sum, but there is no telling how long it will take to find a buyer. Or you can accept a lesser sum, and we will pay you today.”

  “I have no time to waste,” Jane said.

  Mr. Johnson nodded, as if unsurprised. Reaching below the counter, he withdrew a piece of paper and a quill pen. Dipping the pen into the inkwell, he wrote a sum on the paper, and then pushed it across the counter. “I think you’ll find this a very handsome offer,” he said.

  Jane examined the sum. One hundred and fifty pounds. It was more than she had hoped for. She was tempted to agree, but common sense told her that no merchant would ever start negotiations by offering his top price.

  “Your pen, please,” Jane said. Mr. Johnson looked at her quizzically as she scratched out the sum, and wrote the number three hundred below it. “As you said, it is rare to see a set of such quality. I think this is a much more reasonable price.”