by Sophia Nash
Jane paced the room, and then stamped her foot in annoyance, angry with herself for her sense of agitation. She had resolved on remaining calm in the face of the storm. She would not let him take the upper hand. And if he rang a peal over her head, she would insist he desist. Failing that, she would leave. Jane also took comfort in knowing Clarissa and George were in the next room, their chairs drawn close to the door that joined the rooms. She started at the sound of the door opening.
“Good morning, Jane,” Lord Fairchild said with coolness.
“Good morning.”
“I trust you are well?” he inquired, as a formality.
“Yes, quite. You left my brother in good spirits, too, I hope?” she responded. Her father nodded his assent, and Jane shivered as she anticipated the end of the trivialities.
“Yes, well. I am sure you have surmised the reason of my return to the bowels of Cornwall, a place whose appeal is lost on me.”
“Unless it is to banish me again from my birthright, you are wrong, sir, I cannot fathom why you would wish to see me,” she said, lifting her chin. “Have no doubt that my trunks are packed, along with my aunt’s. We are prepared to depart on a moment’s notice. We shan’t depend on your charity any longer.”
“You are incorrect in your assumptions and are taking great delight in displaying your newly acquired contemptuousness.”
“This will not do. I shall not listen to your insults. If you have something of consequence to say to me, say it. Otherwise, I will leave at once,” Jane replied quietly.
With a pause and a long sigh, her father seemed to try and rein in his temper. “Not so hasty, my dear. As I said in my letter, I have something of importance to relate to you. I understand your ill ease, as the letter I sent to you was written in a great fury. Since then, I have had time to resolve myself to your impetuous actions of late regarding Mr. Harry Thompson and Lord Graystock. And while I could dearly wish that you had allied our family name with the earl’s, I have come to believe that the present resolution will at least bring a measure of peace to our family. And I can at least be glad that you did not marry that noddy parson’s son, Harry Thompson!”
Her father’s words startled Jane. So prepared was she to accept a severe reproof that his words bespeaking peace threw her into a silence, as her muddled brain could not form the necessary retorts. Of course, he had not been able to resist belittling Harry, but this was as close as he was able to come to offering an olive branch in her direction.
“Ah, I see the cat’s got your tongue. Maybe this will loosen it,” he continued as he drew a sheaf of foolscap from his breast pocket and handed it to her.
Jane scanned the pages and lowered herself into the nearest chair. She sucked in her breath sharply when she sifted through to the last page and saw the familiar angular signature. She returned to the first page and noticed several references to Pembroke’s stables. Her father’s words broke into her perusal.
“I shall hasten your understanding of the matter, if you will allow. You can complete your reading at your leisure.”
“If you please, sir.”
“I had the pleasure of a visit from Graystock soon after my arrival in town. That is, after the folly of chasing you and your bumbling bumpkin throughout the countryside,” he harrumphed.
Jane said nothing in her defense, preferring to learn as soon as possible why she held in her hands a document signed by Lord Graystock. Undoubtedly it must concern the colossal amount of money her father owed that gentleman.
Her father continued, “In any case, he came to propose an agreement to resolve our fiscal debt following the ignominy of your elopement. In exchange for granting him the title to—”
“Good God, Father, no! You didn’t give him Pembroke, did you? You wouldn’t do that! Please, oh, dear God, please tell me you did not?” Jane implored in shock.
“No, I did not, you silly girl! Have patience. In exchange for an even larger financial settlement to the one stated in the marriage contract, I sold to him only that portion of the estate he requested, that being the stables and the breeding stock.” Jane closed her eyes in horror but kept silent. “It is for the best, you know. I will be able to concentrate on my life in London and the House of Lords, and it will resolve all our debts. And Theo is delighted. He never shared your enthusiasm for the horses except for fox chasing, of course. He always did prefer the agricultural concerns of the property, which will still be his upon my demise,” he said, loosening his cravat.
“Yes. I see how it has all been resolved,” Jane said, as a sort of numbness crept into her being. “It is a good thing my mother is not here to see the day her most beloved corner of the world has been sold,” she added with great feeling.
Her father exploded with pent-up rage. “Do not go lecturing me, Jane, on your dear mother’s emotions. She lost all rights to what became of Pembroke when she died.”
Jane forced herself to remain calm. “This is when I bite back at you and defend my mother. But I shall not, because I know the truth.”
“Ah, your brother’s ‘truth’? Or the actual truth?”
“You should not act so smug, Father. I know the simple truth. She… she killed herself. But I also know what Theo believes is also partly true—she committed suicide because of the unhappiness in her marriage. Can you deny it?”
“I do not have to deny it. We were all living under the same depressing roof, girl! Do you not think I was not miserable myself? But at least I stuck it out. I stayed here, on this hellish country estate, watching the woman I married become estranged from me, finally detesting the very sight of me. But I stayed. And I didn’t leave you and Theo orphans, as she did by half. Even though you are not of my blood, I did not forsake you!” His face was bloodred in anger. Then he stopped and crumpled at her feet, great sobs overtaking his body. “I loved her! I loved you all! But she would not let me in. She would not let me be part of her world and yours. And she would have none of mine in London,” he said in a rush.
Jane felt tears course down her cheeks as she urged him to his feet and wrapped her arms around his bulk.
“Oh, Papa, I have waited so long to hear those words. I love you, too, you know. You are a great fool,” she said as she closed her eyes and leaned on him. “I loved you, and Theo worshiped the ground you walked on. Why did you not disabuse him of his crazy notions? In my heart I knew his ideas were not true. Even when he spoke of the discharged gun being in your hands. But why didn’t you put a stop to his gaming?”
“I could not take the fond memories of your mother from either of you, no matter how much you both hated me. I also presumed you might take her same path if you knew. We all know suicide runs in families. And your brother’s ruinous actions proved he might follow her course.” He stopped to mop his brow before continuing. “He refused to believe Harstead had fired at a stag. I held the gamekeeper’s gun as he went in search of the stag that he thought he had nicked. Instead, Harstead found your mother. I hid her pistol and made a pact with him. But I must have given him back my clean gun instead of his, when Theo appeared.”
“Come, Papa, sit beside me on the chaise and let us resolve this. All of it.” With bowed head, he accepted Jane’s proffered handkerchief as they moved to the blue chaise. He blew his nose loudly into the delicate cloth.
“I know part of all your past bitterness stems from your belief that Theo and I are not yours,” Jane said, looking into her father’s brown eyes. He refused to acknowledge her statement and instead looked at the floor. “You are my Papa,” she insisted. Jane had an idea suddenly and prayed it would provide the necessary proof. “And I will show you, so you will never have to doubt it again, if you will not laugh or take offense.”
He nodded and looked quite unable to say anything lest he lose control of his sensibilities again.
Jane began unlacing her left boot, avoiding his face. “I know I am the very picture of Mama in every respect save one.” She then removed her boot and rolled down her stocking to
display her foot. “Now, Papa, you must do the same.”
He had not quite recovered his usual gruff detachment, and to her surprise he complied with her request without a word. When he had finished the job, he placed his foot next to hers. Slowly, his face broke into a wide grin as he looked at their feet. “Why, they are identical, I do declare, except yours, of course, is smaller. From the pathetic excuse for a little toe down to the peculiar indentation on the top of the big toe!” he exclaimed with great laughter.
Jane chimed in, “And look at the longer second toe, and our square nails! Mother once told me we had similar feet. But I was not sure until I saw yours today. I prayed she was right.”
Her father caught her in a great hug and squeezed the breath from her. “It was all my fault, then. I would not believe her denials, and so I drove you all away. Ah, Jane, how can I ever receive your forgiveness, after all I have done?”
“You have but to ask. And seeing you here now, and after everything that has happened, there is no need, as I have much to require forgiveness too. I am sorry to have led you on such a chase and to have ever caused you worry.”
“That is nothing to what I have done to you. Allowing Cutty to marry you was of course the worst offense. But forcing you to sell your possessions, and then insisting that you accept Billingsley, were also unforgivable. But you know not the blackest of my crimes.”
“I think I do, really,” she said, unable to meet his gaze.
“In a drunken state I even considered accepting Lord Wythe’s vile proposal. I was only lucky Cutty appeared in time to put a stop to it. What a horrible fool I was. But Jane, I do not expect your forgiveness, only your understanding,” he said.
“But you have it. Pray let us not ever dwell on it again.”
He kissed her cheek and held her hand as he reached for the document, which had fallen to the floor. “It seems you have a choice, then, my little one, in the question of where you shall reside. You now have before you four choices.” Jane looked up at him in surprise. “You may go with your aunt to Chichester, where I understand you have a great desire to become a lady’s companion or some such nonsense, or you may live in this house, which I know you love more than anything. Of course, you may also come to reside with me in London, although I assume I have not even the slimmest chance of your wanting to do that!”
“You are most dear to even consider inviting me! But I am most curious, Papa. Whyever did you mention four choices? There are the three you mentioned, and no more. Indeed, I feel most fortunate that you have offered me the last two. I never dreamed I would be allowed to remain here,” she said shyly.
Lord Fairchild cleared his throat gruffly and reached into his pocket for his spectacles, which he placed low, near the end of his nose. He reminded Jane of Saint Nicholas just then, and she hugged him, filled with the happy knowledge she could now do so without fear of rejection. She wiggled her toes in delight.
Ruffling the pages, her father continued, “Lord Graystock apparently acknowledged your superior horsemanship after his anger had cooled. It says here—yes, in this very part,” he said, hesitating as he scanned the page. “Yes, yes, here it is—`Mrs. Jane Lovering is to be offered the position of Steward of the Stables, a post that shall remain open to her for the duration of her lifetime. Should she accept the position, she would report to my steward in London, and she and her husband would be allowed the use of the small steward’s cottage. In addition, the stables and breeding operation described herein shall revert to the ownership of Mrs. Lovering or her offspring upon the event of my death.’ “ Her father removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Jane was effectively silenced. “So you see, my child, you have a plethora of options before you.”
She could feel her eyes welling with tears. Caught without a handkerchief, she wiped her hands against her eyes.
“But, my child, I must make clear to you one point. He made it very obvious that he had no desire to ever see you or anyone else in our family again. He purchased the stables purely as an investment to clear the debt. Graystock included the stewardship as your brother pressed him to do so. But understand this—I don’t believe he ever thought for a moment you would return to Pembroke. He said as much. He agreed to it quickly, as he was in great haste to conclude the business and be on his way. What do you say? Will you hold him to his offer?”
“I don’t think there is any question, Papa,” she said with a smile. “I won’t leave here if I am to have the choice. I think, though, that I would prefer to stay in the estate house to oversee all, if you will allow it. But when and if Theo ever marries, I shall remove to the cottage so as to not interfere.”
“Good girl. I knew you would choose this course. It really is for the best. Now, shall we go and bump the knees and faces of the two eavesdroppers on the other side of that door?” Lord Fairchild said, nodding in the direction of the adjoining door. As they rose, he continued, “I shall be returning to town the day after tomorrow. Right after the bruises have resolved from the journey hither!”
As she sat behind the large, simple pine desk in the main barn, tapping her quill on the blotter, Jane took her decision. She would not go to Littlefield. She would not go to her aunt’s wedding. She had withstood the mild rebukes from George, as well as the hesitant suggestion of Papa and, worst of all, the two loving letters from her aunt. Each time Jane examined her resolve, she felt relief. The very thought of encountering Lord Graystock again brought waves of great anxiety. The embarrassment could not be endured. Mostly she would not go because she did not want to cause the earl any further unease. He would heave a great sigh of relief when he arrived at Hesperides and learned of her absence. And so she would not go. Jane had written to her aunt that she would be better able to witness Clarissa and Sir Thomas’ connubial bliss if she came for a visit to Chichester sometime in early summer next year instead of a one-day visit to Littlefield this autumn.
She pushed aside the pile of cream-colored paper, frustrated with her manuscript. Clarissa had not fancied it and had suggested a different ending. Try as she might, Jane could not force the characters to behave in the fashion Clarissa had suggested. Instead, she moved forward the schedules she must review and approve. It seemed a much less daunting task.
She had settled quite happily into the role she was born to, that of stable master. Her life was perfect in every way. She could not even have uncomfortable feelings the day Harry had ridden over with Miss Dodderidge to announce his happy news.
“Hey ho, Jane! Wish me happy!”
Laughing, Jane had said, “Ah, you’ve heard again from Mr. Melure at university, then?”
“No, no. Better yet!”
“We’re to be married, Mrs. Lovering,” rushed on Miss Dodderidge.
Jane had had to control all of her wits not to dissolve into laughter. The expression on Miss Dodderidge’s face bespoke the truth of her words. But when Jane had recovered from the surprise, she was rendered speechless.
Harry had jumped from his saddle and whispered to her, “I knew you wouldn’t believe it. But don’t hurt her feelings or she might turn frosty. It’s like this. I started getting used to the idea of wedlock when we left together. I realized that the idea had many merits.”
“Impossible,” Jane had giggled while trying to maintain a serious expression.
But it had been possible. She had congratulated them with sincere warmth after inviting them in for tea. It seemed they were off to Scotland with his sister and father to marry without the delay of the banns. Miss Dodderidge had even insisted Harry continue his plans for the expedition later in the term!
Jane brought her attention back to the blacksmith’s notes and spring foaling charts. The rumbling of a conveyance in the stable yard broke her concentration. As she stared out the doorway to find her father’s carriage in the yard, a feeling of dread swept through her. Father would never return so soon unless a calamity had beset the family again. A great welling of relief poured through her when Theo descended from the carr
iage.
“Not even bothering to hide the breeches anymore, Jane? You have been rusticating too long!” he said as he embraced her.
Jane laughed with embarrassment. “You’ve caught me.”
“I see life here agrees with you, as it always did.” He followed her into the large office and threw himself into the chair opposite her desk. He shook his head after picking up one of the charts and put it down with little interest.
“Be a good sister and give your dear brother a drink, if you please. Father refuses to spare a shilling to refurbish that rattlebox, and the dirt seeps in through every crack. It’s a disgrace, I tell you.”
Jane smiled and pulled an unlabeled bottle of brandy from one of the drawers as well as two dusty glasses. “Will this do?”
She poured as he nodded. “To sisters who obey their brothers’ every command!” he toasted.
“To undemanding brothers,” offered up Jane.
“Have you guessed why I’m here?” quizzed Theo after drinking long and deep.
“I cannot guess,” she said. “You aren’t planning marriage, are you? I don’t think I could bear to hear anymore cooing.”
“No, but you shall hear spoon-talk all the same. I’m here to take you to our dear Aunt Clarissa’s wedding.”
Jane held up her hand. “Stop. I am not going. You have added needless time to your trip if that is the purpose of your visit. I have arranged to see the newlyweds next summer. I can’t go. I have a mare expected to drop any day now, and her last foaling was difficult. I won’t go!”
“Easy, you old thing. Touched a nerve, did I? Well, it won’t fadge. You’re going, even if I have to bundle up your belongings myself and stuff you into the carriage, fetters and all. And don’t think I wouldn’t do it! I have it on very good authority that someone here—yes, I do believe his name is George—will help me tie you down if necessary.” Theo continued over the frequent interruptions of his sister, “Honestly, my dearest, what are you thinking? However can you consider denying our aunt the pleasure of your company on the most anticipated day of her life? The very person who loved you and cared for you like no other these last few months! You once told me I should be ashamed. Well, now I fling it back in your face!” Theo threw up his hands as he left, refusing to listen to any of the shouted excuses following him out into the yard.