Yet there was a tiny part of her mind, behind all of these considerations, that contemplated it. Not with her permission. And not because it might prove absolutely necessary. Just because of his impact on her. Because she remembered now that her hand had tightened around his waist, that she had wanted to run her fingers through the rough black hair, that the feel of his lips on hers had somehow changed her. She was not, after all, the person who had gone up to her room last night, settled in the knowledge that she would never love anyone other than Richard. A part of her knew better, and whether she agreed to acknowledge that part or not, it was there.
Jane was relatively successful in avoiding the viscount for the day. She could read the amusement in his eyes as she hurriedly passed him in corridors or slipped out of the house to reduce their chances of meeting. She even rode over to Graywood, ostensibly to make sure her tenants were leaving the place in good condition. She made no effort to see the house, but confined herself to an inspection of the grounds after dropping off a cheese for the Browns.
Her tenants had had gardeners to care for the wild woodland glades and great herbaceous borders. The glass houses weren’t in use, but the rock garden adjoining the lake had been weeded with care. Jane remembered the rhododendron dell in the spring. She had walked there with Richard, surrounded by the lush pink blossoms. He had stuck one in her hair and laughed at how sticky his fingers got from handling it. He had kissed her in the great walled garden with its pergolas, out of sight of any prying eye.
Oh, Richard. Her throat ached with missing him. The sadness descended on her as usual... and yet not quite as usual. There was a distance she hadn’t experienced before. As though all of those hours and days spent together were long ago, truly in the past. Stubbornly she protested against the change: it was only a year! She could still remember walking beside him, their arms about each other’s waists, laughing, treasuring the good days.
For the first time she realized that Richard’s illness had given them more privilege than she had thought. They hadn’t had to face the same kind of reality as other people. There had been that one positive aspect. Without the responsibility of marrying and raising a family, they had been able to thumb their noses at society, to abandon the usual conventions, to love each other and share with each other in a way almost unknown to other couples. That freedom could never be duplicated with another man.
It had been a small-enough compensation for all the pain they were forced to endure, her mind insisted. There was no doubt that she’d been spoiled for any other situation, though. Look at Rossmere. The very picture of a cool, self-contained gentleman. What use would he have for a wife, other than as mother of his children, provider of a dowry to get him out of his financial bind? Jane could no more envision him cozily domesticated than she could see Ascot tamed.
Rossmere was not precisely reckless, except perhaps on the horse. But he did have a rather cavalier attitude toward women, if Jane was not mistaken. Oh, sexually he could be tempted by even such an elderly spinster as herself (after a visit to a former mistress), but he would never regard her in the light of beloved companion as Richard had. She and Richard had read books together and discussed ideas; they had had private jokes; they had been able to look honestly at the people and situations around them.
Rossmere wouldn’t understand that kind of relationship. In all truth, few men would. Perhaps only a man who was mentally unbalanced, Jane thought bitterly. Oh, if only there were some other way she could protect her sister!
Jane did manage to avoid private conversation with Rossmere for the entire day. She suspected that he was allowing her the time to consider his offer and that he wouldn’t be as easy to evade on the following day. When he joined her and Mabel at the breakfast table, a great deal earlier than he usually did, she felt sure he would insist on an interview. Mabel, the soul of determination, rose shortly after he arrived.
“I have a thousand things to do, my dear,” she told Jane. “Lord Rossmere, you must certainly try the potted beef and the muffins. A man needs to keep up his strength with a good breakfast, I always say.”
When she had hastened from the room, Rossmere regarded Jane with a rueful smile. “She’s a very subtle woman, my godmother.”
“Isn’t she?” Jane sat back in her chair, attempting to look calm. “I’m not in charity with her just now, because she refuses to understand Nancy’s danger.”
“I daresay that’s not the only reason.”
True. Another bone of contention was that Aunt Mabel continued to urge Jane to marry Rossmere, but Jane wasn’t going to discuss that aspect of the problem. “I have a number of errands to do myself this morning. I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t stay with you while you dine.”
“No, I really wouldn’t understand that,” Rossmere insisted as he helped himself to a muffin from the silver basket on the sideboard. “We really need to talk, you and I. You’ve had a day to consider my proposal. Even if you haven’t come to any firm decision, I’d appreciate your giving me some idea of what your thoughts are on the subject.”
Jane met his bold blue eyes uneasily. “My thoughts are quite chaotic, Lord Rossmere.”
“If you don’t start calling me Stephen, I shall assume the very worst.”
“Perhaps that would be best.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m sure it wouldn’t. Look, Jane, I don’t like to see you squirm. There really is no other solution. The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for all of us, your sister included. I know the idea doesn’t sit well with you, and I’m sorry for that.”
“It can’t sit well with you, either.”
He offered a wide, infectious smile. “The idea is growing on me. In fact, it has taken firm root. I’ve been stubborn and called it natural pride. A man would be frivolous indeed not to consider marriage to you a most felicitous accomplishment.”
“Save your pretty phrases for... Ascot,” she retorted. “We’ve been discussing a marriage of convenience. I don’t want you to pretend that it pleases you any more than it pleases me.”
“And I take it that is not at all?”
Jane couldn’t tell if this truly disturbed him. The line of his jaw seemed to harden. She deemed it safest not to answer his question. “I’ve tried to come to some decision. At times I even doubt my own perceptions. What if I’ve blown the whole situation out of proportion? What if Nancy somehow isn’t in danger?”
“Do you really believe that?”
‘‘No."
“Then you must believe that she is. And if she is, the best way to help her is to fall in with my proposal.” He watched with a degree of impatience as she shook her head slowly, more in annoyance than in dispute of his words. “You’ve thought about it, Jane. What other solution is there?”
She could have advanced the old arguments, but it seemed a waste of time. A great rebellion rose in her, however, and she pushed her chair back from the table. “I don’t wish to discuss the matter now.”
“Ah, well, I can understand that. There are, as you will recall, any number of topics I am unwilling to discuss.”
If he was trying to lighten the moment for her, he was totally unsuccessful. Jane frowned at him where he stood holding his filled plate. How could she possibly marry this forceful stranger? It was grossly unfair of fate to deal her another wretched hand of cards.
“I simply cannot answer you now,” she declared. “Perhaps tomorrow.” And this time she took the opportunity of leaving before he could manage some self-evident and irritating statement of his own.
* * * *
Jane was informed an hour later by Winters that “Lord Rossmere will not be back until a rather advanced hour.”
“But where has he gone?”
Winters cleared his throat. “His lordship did not see fit to advise me of his destination, my lady. Barnes, however, hinted that Ascot would be in grave danger in anyone else’s hands in London.”
“London! Rossmere has ridden Ascot into London?”
<
br /> “I believe so, my lady.”
Really, it was too bad of him to take off for the city without offering her a word of explanation. Not that she would have stopped him. But if he was going to return that very day, he might have invited her to accompany him. It was always a treat to spend a few hours in London, and Tilly would have provided a perfectly adequate chaperone for the two of them. Jane could have looked at the gowns and hats displayed in the most fashionable shops, or browsed through a museum. She wouldn’t have expected Rossmere’s company. The trip would have provided a welcome change of pace.
Of course, even if he’d invited her, she could not possibly have gone. For the time being, at least, she must stay at Willow End in case there was any word from Nancy. Or better, she realized suddenly, if she simply removed herself to Parnham Hall. John Parnham could hardly send her packing home, and if she was there, she could be a greater protection for her sister. Why hadn’t she thought of this before?
Because it was a temporary, desperate solution, her more rational mind prompted. No more than an attempt to avoid answering Rossmere. Running away, in essence. She could do very little good at Parnham Hall.
Enough to make it worthwhile, she countered as she hurried up the oak staircase. Tilly was in her room, brushing lint from a pelisse Jane had worn the previous day. Jane set her to packing.
“For an extended stay,” she said, her tone defiant. Poor Tilly had no idea why, but it didn’t matter. Jane had seldom felt such a miserable combination of fear, frustration, and excitement. It would do her good to match her wits against Parnham’s. They’d all treated the villain in far too civilized a manner!
When there was a tap at her door, Tilly took the note from Winters and handed it to her. How fortuitous that it should be from Nancy. Jane ripped it open and quickly scanned the sheet. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She hastened into the corridor and called after the retreating Winters.
“Is my father in the house?”
“I believe so, Lady Jane. He was in the study not more than half an hour ago.”
“Thank you.” Jane ran past the startled butler and sped down the stairs, clasping the letter tightly in her hand. The study door was open and she could see her father poring over an old volume spread on his desk. Thrusting her head around the door, she asked, “May I come in?”
“Certainly, my dear, certainly. What’s that you’re waving about?” He frowned as he recognized the handwriting. “Has Nancy distressed you with something she wrote?”
Jane held a hand up to beg for attention. “Just listen to this, Papa. I know you think Nancy is imagining things, but you have to hear what she’s written. And remember that she wrote it to me, not to you.” With trembling fingers she straightened out the single sheet of paper and began to read.
‘My dearest Jane, You’ve been on my mind a great deal this last day or two. All my life you’ve done so many things for me that I might hesitate asking yet another, except that you are so good and this is so important. It has to do with William. I have been thinking that if I am unable to care for him...
Jane’s voice caught and she looked up into her father’s eyes. “Do you understand that she believes that either she’s crazy or that she’ll be dead? 'I have been thinking that if I am unable to care for him I would want you to be the one to do it. He’s a very good baby and would give you very little trouble, though I realize it would change your life considerably. The nursemaid Sarah would surely be willing to come to you and she’s an exceptionally capable girl.’"
The strength of her emotion made Jane pause again. “Well, I won’t read you the part about how Parnham is fond of the child but would probably allow me to raise him, at least until he is considerably older. She’s probably mistaken on that head, in any case. But her last paragraph is very telling.
"‘Yesterday I walked by the ornamental pond, as I often do of an afternoon. The water was quite clear, with the sun shining off it. As I approached from the garden walk, I could see something in the water, but the glare was in my eyes. I came closer and a kind of terror grew in my heart because I could see more clearly now, and it was certainly a baby there under the water. Of course you will not understand why I immediately thought it was William, but I find that motherhood is like that. Without a thought I leapt over the carved ledge and into the water, which was a great deal deeper than I expected, but only to my waist.’"
Lord Barlow uttered a strangled exclamation but waved Jane to continue.
"‘Before I could even reach the spot where I had seen the baby, there was a great deal of commotion. John was there, and the gardener and his assistant, almost as if everyone had been following my progress. It was John who jumped into the pond after me and handed me out to the gardener. No one would listen to a word I said, but insisted that I was trying to drown myself. Honestly! In such a bit of water, in the middle of the afternoon! But when I looked back, the baby was gone and I let them take me away to the house.’"
Lord Barlow squeezed the bridge of his nose, a pained expression tightening his jaw and drawing down the corners of his mouth. “Ah, poor child, poor child.”
“So you think that she is indeed losing her mind, do you? That she has become suicidal?” demanded Jane, irate.
“What is the likelihood that there was a baby in the water?” he returned with a sad sigh. “Try to be reasonable, Jane.”
“There’s no chance on earth that there was a baby in the water,” she admitted. “But I can think of a very different and very likely explanation. John Parnham is trying to convince her that she’s crazy, or if not her, at least everyone else around them. What are the chances that her husband and the gardener and the gardener’s assistant would all be there at just the moment she stepped into the pond?”
“He is worried for her safety, Jane. It wouldn’t be at all unusual for him to have the staff watching out for her.”
“It’s just as likely that he had them there as witnesses. That he placed a doll in the water, knowing that Nancy’s immediate reaction would be to discover what it was.”
“But she admits she thought it was her own child. Preposterous!”
“Under the circumstances, not so odd. Parnham is doing everything he can think of to rattle Nancy. With her nerves on edge, seeing something of that nature would affect her tremendously.”
Lord Barlow shook his head. “You’re trying to put a decent face on it, Jane, and I think you’d do better to acknowledge the truth. Even Nancy didn’t see the baby when she looked back.”
“Of course not. Parnham probably kicked the doll out of the way as he ‘rescued’ her.”
“Jane, Jane.” Lord Barlow rubbed his temples and sighed. “Perhaps I’ve done only harm by withholding certain information only Mabel and I know. You and Lord Rossmere seem to think I’m some kind of ogre to believe that Nancy has been mentally unbalanced by her confinement. You might not be so determined to believe her side of the story if you knew of your own mother’s problems at the end.”
“What do you mean?”
“The last few days of her life your mother was quite out of her mind. She talked of her childhood days as though she were there, and she wept constantly, though not, as far as we could tell, because of how gravely ill she was. She didn’t recognize anyone; we didn’t let you children see her unless she was asleep.”
“Yes, I remember that. But, Papa, she was dying. Something to do with the childbirth itself going wrong.”
“Yes, but Nancy’s childbirth may have produced similar effect.”
“But it didn’t! I was with her for the first two weeks afterward and there was no sign at all that she was emotionally distraught.”
“Except for her crying,” her father reminded her. “Remember, you told me how she would burst into tears at the smallest thing.”
“But that’s perfectly common for women in that condition. You can’t equate that with my mother’s situation.”
“Taken with all the other instances of her strange
behavior?” he asked gently. “I’m sorry, Jane, but I have to be realistic."
“My reality is quite different than yours.” She stood up to go. “I’m leaving within the hour to visit her. Whether you believe she’s becoming insane or I think Parnham is trying to kill her, you must admit that she would benefit from my companionship.”
Lord Barlow pursed his lips. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jane. Her husband will take care of her. Certainly I wanted to be the one to attend to your mother.”
“It doesn’t matter if you agree with me. I’m going to visit her. I’ll keep you posted on the situation, from my perspective.”
“I wish you wouldn’t, Jane. It will only distress you.” She felt weighted down with defeat. “Nonetheless, I can’t possibly do otherwise.”
“What about Lord Rossmere?”
Her head came up sharply. “He’s Aunt Mabel’s guest.” But she left a note for him, tucked under his door, before she departed. Wrapped inside it was the note she’d received from her sister. That might serve as some kind of explanation, since she was unable to provide any answer to his proposal.
Chapter 14
Jane felt a bit of trepidation as the carriage rolled up to the front of Parnham Hall. She’d sent no word ahead of her arrival, convinced that Parnham would put her off if he knew. Determined to stubbornly ignore any hints that she was not welcome, she pulled her bonnet a little closer about her head, retying the yellow ribbon under her chin. If only her coming wouldn’t put Nancy in an awkward position .
Awkward, indeed! Her husband trying to prove to everyone that she was suicidal was a great deal more awkward than having your sister come to stay uninvited. Jane leaned forward as the carriage drew to a halt before the two-storied porch of the entrance. The hall was an odd building in some ways, with pinnacled turrets and many-mullioned windows. More light came into the inside rooms than in most buildings of Jane’s experience, but she had once heard Parnham complain of it. To her mind the light made the large rooms airy and charming, and she loved to picture her sister sitting in one of them with the sun pouring in on her.
The Proud Viscount Page 13