by Eliza Casey
She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. He didn’t really seem at all the sort to let a bit of drama discourage him from an amusing afternoon.
“Don’t you have your own country home, Lord Eversham?” she said. “I hear Eversham Abbey is quite grand indeed.”
“Oh yes, it is. Terribly. And cold and empty. Nothing ever happens there at all. I think at the last church fete my mother hosted, the most scandalous thing that happened was the vicar imbibing too much cider and falling into the lake.”
Cecilia couldn’t help but laugh. She could never picture handsome, sweet Mr. Brown doing such a thing. “Our vicar is—quite different.”
Eversham nodded, looking suddenly serious. “Still—are you sure you are quite well now, Lady Cecilia? It must have been a shocking sight to see a man die like that.”
Cecilia swallowed hard and then turned to look at Danby, her home, the familiar paintings and carpets, the terrace beyond with her family. She was suddenly very, very glad to be alive to see it all again. “Yes, I am quite well now.”
“Good. Though if you feel at all faint, I am quite happy to carry you to that chaise over there.”
Cecilia laughed again. He was a silly marquess—but a handsome one. “Like Marianne Dashwood and Colonel Brandon? Perhaps one day . . .” She saw her mother wave. “But you must not encourage my mother. I fear she may be about to ask you to dinner.”
“Will someone keel over in the soup?”
She remembered poor Mr. Hayes back in the spring, who had nearly done just that, and she sighed. “I can guarantee nothing, Lord Eversham. Anything might happen.”
“In that case, I shall happily accept. I would certainly hate to miss whatever happens next.”
* * *
Jane walked Lady Cecilia’s bicycle across the graveled drive toward the garage, half-afraid the heavy contraption was going to collapse on her and somehow pin her to the ground. She had no idea how Lady Cecilia was brave enough to ride it as she did, but she did seem to enjoy it a lot, despite her earlier accident. And it was surely a lovely day to be out and about on the Danby grounds, freed from duties for a while.
Jane turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the warm sun on her cheeks. Despite the blue, cloudless expanse above, the nip of autumn was at the edges of the breeze, and the leaves were starting to fall from the trees. Soon it would be winter.
She thought of winter back home, the streets muddy, the skies leaden, the fireplace smoking. She didn’t miss the idea of that very much at all, though she did miss her family quite a lot.
She peeked back over her shoulder at the house, all tinged gold by the afternoon light, quiet and solid and beautiful. Despite that little flash of homesickness, she felt such a thrill of excitement to know that Danby was where she was now. And what adventures she had there! She could never have imagined them before.
She continued on toward the garage, a little bounce to her step, and she had to admit her happiness that day wasn’t just about adventure and grand houses. It might be, just a tiny bit, about the man who was in the garage.
Jane pushed the bicycle through the open doors and blinked at the sudden shadow after the bright day. The air was warm and smelled of oil and the fine leather seats of the car, and she could hear mysterious clinkings and clankings coming from the caverns of the space.
“Hello?” she called. “Mr. Collins?”
He appeared from behind a screen, wiping his hands on a rag. His hair was rumpled, he wore only a plain gray coverall, and a smear of grease was on his cheek, but it didn’t take away from how handsome he was. How her heart pounded to see him.
“Why, hello, Miss Jane, what a fine surprise,” he said with a smile. He tossed aside the rag. “What can I do for you today?”
“It’s Lady Cecilia’s bicycle,” Jane said, glad to turn her gaze away from him and to the contraption. Maybe then he couldn’t see how flustered she felt. “She thinks there’s something wrong with this—thingamie here. She’s having a hard time stopping.”
Collins knelt down to examine the bicycle, his shoulders flexing in a way that made Jane want to touch them in a most improper fashion. Some proper lady’s maid she was turning out to be! “Just looks like the chain is loose. I can fix that for her in a trice.”
“Thank you. She wants to ride into the village tomorrow for some flower-arranging thing at the church.” And maybe Lady Cecilia would see the vicar while she was there. But Jane daren’t ask her.
“And what about you? Are you going to take up bicycling, too?”
Jane grinned. “I do doubt it. This thing scares me to bits.”
Collins laughed. “I agree. Give me a solid automobile any day.”
Jane laughed, too, feeling that wonderful ease she had with him return. “You do drive them so well. I’m never afraid when you’re behind the wheel.”
He stood up and smiled at her rather shyly. “Speaking of which—I have permission to take out the car myself on Tuesday evening, when the family is dining at home. There’s a dance at the Guildhall, a ragtime band all the way from Liverpool.”
“Ragtime?” Jane sighed. “How wonderful! I heard a bit of that music when I was in America. I love the bounce of it all.”
He traced his toe along the stained concrete floor, not quite meeting her gaze. “I wonder if—well, if it’s your evening off, maybe—you’d like to go with me? We could learn some of those new dances together. I warn you, though, I’m a bit of a two-left-footer on the dance floor sometimes.”
Jane was astonished, afraid—and wonderfully excited. She pressed her hand to the sudden flutter in her stomach. “Oh. I—I suppose I could find a sturdy enough pair of dancing shoes and trade for a day off with one of the other maids. And Miss Clarke won’t mind as long as I’m home in time to help her change after dinner. If you’re sure you want me to go . . .”
His smile widened. “Of course I’m sure. I’ve been wanting to ask you for ages, but I just . . .” He broke off with a rueful laugh, making Jane smile, too. “So, I’ll see you Tuesday, then?”
“Yes. Tuesday it is.” Jane spun around and hurried out of the garage, afraid she was grinning like a total idiot, but she just didn’t quite care. She couldn’t wait to tell Lady Cecilia!
Epilogue
Oh, Jane, you are an absolute miracle worker!” Cecilia cried happily. She spun around in front of her looking glass, feeling quite as if she floated on a wonderful marshmallow cream cloud.
“Be careful, my lady!” Jane admonished. “We don’t want it all to come tumbling apart again.”
Cecilia laughed and stood obediently still as Jane adjusted the sleeves of Cecilia’s new ball gown and then knelt down to check the hem. The dress had just arrived from London, a confection of white satin with a white tulle tunic overlay embroidered with pearls and sequins in patterns of twisting vines and lilies. It was perfect for the après–shooting party ball Cecilia’s mother had planned so carefully. Something had to distract everyone from Danby’s latest murderous scandal, and what better way to do that than a lavish dance?
Cecilia patted her hair, an elaborate arrangement of curls and waves Jane had bound with a satin and crystal-studded bandeau. “You are utterly wasted as a lady’s maid, Jane. You should be working in some elegant London couture salon, which one day you would own yourself.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Jane shooed Jack away from the lace trim on the gown’s train. “London was certainly exciting to see, and I wouldn’t mind visiting again. But I like my work here. And there’s a lot to be said for the peace and quiet of a house like Danby, isn’t there?”
“Yes, indeed,” Cecilia murmured. It had certainly been “quiet” since the Price affair. There had been shooting luncheons, dinner parties, walks, and books. Now even the autumn sport was going to be done, and Christmas to plan for next. She wished she knew what to do after that. After
feeling so useful, having work and a purpose, she felt terribly at loose ends.
“Let’s do your jewelry, my lady, and you’ll be all ready to go,” Jane said.
Cecilia sat down at her dressing table and studied her reflection in the silver-framed glass. It was dark beyond her windows now, night falling earlier every day, but she could see the garden lit up by golden fairy lights. Every sign of the bazaar was long gone now. The trees were turning bare and the flower beds were going to their winter sleep. The looming tower stood beyond as an ominous reminder of what had happened.
“Maybe we could go back to London soon,” she said, tearing her eyes from the tower. “Aunt Maggie should be back from climbing in the Alps by then, and we could attend some meetings at the Women’s Suffrage Union.”
Jane sorted through the meager contents of Cecilia’s jewel case, studying the earrings and brooches and lockets with narrowed eyes. “Have you heard from Miss Price, then, my lady?”
Cecilia nodded and took out Anne’s letter from where it was tucked behind the red-haired china shepherdess, along with the rest of the day’s post. “Yes, she sounds just as sensible and unflappable as ever, considering the terrible things that have happened. Miss Black is staying for a time at a clinic at Lake Geneva but is still writing pamphlets for the Union and is expected to be able to resume her work in the springtime.”
“Oh, I do hope so, my lady.” Jane fastened a double strand of pearls at Cecilia’s neck. “And what about poor Mrs. Winter?”
Cecilia glanced over Anne’s neatly printed words again. It was rather astonishing how close she felt she had become to those people in such a short, yet quite intense, moment of time. They felt like friends now.
“Mary is living with Anne in her London flat at the moment, while all the complications of Mr. Winter’s estate are settled, and surprisingly, she is helping Anne organize the Union’s files as Anne and Mrs. Palmer decide how to structure everything now,” Cecilia said. She wondered how the two almost-reconciled sisters got on day-to-day. “Poor Mary indeed, I am sure she is rather penniless and lost right now. Maybe she will find suffrage is useful to her after all.”
“At least she isn’t married to a monster anymore,” Jane said with a shiver. “We can all make fresh starts, if we want to.”
Cecilia thought of Jane’s life in America, which sounded so different from Danby, and her own dull past. But it was 1912 now. Things were changing. “Indeed we can, Jane. And with her sister’s help, I’m sure Mary will be fine.”
“What about their father, my lady? Would he help? He seems rich enough. That car of his! Mr. Collins says it’s quite au courant.”
Cecilia had to smile at the twinkle in Jane’s eyes when she mentioned Collins. Collins was handsome, and well-spoken, and if Jane did want to marry him, she could live with him in the flat above the garage and never leave Danby. Selfishly, the thought made Cecilia quite happy, though she did rather pity Sergeant Dunn.
“I am sure Mr. Price is quite comfortable,” she said. Jane held out two pairs of earrings, one of pearl drops and one of diamond studs, and Cecilia chose the diamonds. “But Anne’s postscript here says he means to marry soon, and the new Mrs. Price wants a fresh house in Cheyne Walk.”
“Cheyne Walk? Sounds artistic. Is it that young lady we heard about in London, then?” Jane said, referring to the gossip about Mr. Price’s “special friend,” even before his wife’s demise. Mrs. Price’s friend, however, was probably always going to be a secret.
“Indeed so. I’m sure they’ll be quite happy, aren’t you, Jane?” Cecilia tucked Anne’s letter away.
“As happy as people like that can be, I suppose.” Jane straightened the bandeau in Cecilia’s hair. “But maybe they won’t be the only ones?”
Cecilia wasn’t sure she liked the laughing look in Jane’s eyes. “Whatever do you mean?”
Jane gestured to the other letter on the dressing table, one on thick, creamy paper with an embossed blue-and-gold crest. “I see you got even more in the post today, my lady.”
Cecilia felt her cheeks turn warm and fussed with the silver-capped scent bottle to cover up her silly blushes. If only she didn’t have that ridiculously pale, freckled Bates complexion that showed every emotion! “I did get a note from Lord Eversham, yes. Just a message to say what a terribly interesting time he had here. He wishes all church bazaars could be so eventful.”
Jane laughed. “Not me, my lady! If they have it next year, I hope the most exciting thing to happen will be that lemon drizzle cake coming in second place for the first time.”
“Do you think you’ll be here next year, then, Jane? I do hope so!” The room was quiet for a moment as Jane looked for Cecilia’s gloves and Jack groomed his paws by the fire. All so peaceful. So exactly as it should be.
“I like it here, my lady,” Jane said. “I do miss my family, but I love Danby, and all your strange English ways. I think I’ll stay as long as you and Miss Clarke need me.”
That was one of the rubs, though, wasn’t it? Cecilia wondered how long Annabel would stay. After London, Cecilia was quite starting to like her. However proper and uppity she may be, she was also sharp and funny and mischievous. Cecilia enjoyed the morning rides they had gotten into the habit of taking together. But Annabel was beautiful, intelligent, lively, and above all rich. What would she see in dear, sweet, vague Patrick and falling-down Danby?
“What about you, my lady?” Jane handed Cecilia her fan.
“Me, Jane?”
“Won’t you want to marry and have your own household?” Jane nodded toward that crested stationery. “I bet a marquess must have a nice house indeed.”
“I am quite sure he does.” Cecilia thought of what she had heard of Eversham Abbey, a house even older than Danby and twice as large. And there was Lord Eversham himself, handsome and witty. Life as a marchioness would mean a leading place in Society. But there were other things out in the world, too. Travel, like Aunt Maggie, and college, like Maud Rainsley. Running the church as a vicar’s wife, maybe, close to Danby. So many things.
“To tell you the truth, Jane, I have absolutely no idea what I’ll do now. Except go downstairs before my mother comes looking for me!”
Jane helped button up the myriad tiny pearl buttons on the kid gloves, made sure the hem of the gown was straight, and stepped back to study her handiwork with narrowed eyes.
“Am I presentable, then, Jane?” Cecilia asked.
“Very nice indeed, my lady, if I do say so myself.” Jane smiled brightly. “Say, if you were a marchioness, we could do this every night!”
Cecilia groaned. “Heaven forfend! It would be too exhausting.” She glanced at Jack, who had jumped up onto his favorite cushion on the bed. “What do you think, Sir Jack?”
He squeezed his green eyes in agreement. Or maybe he was just looking forward to Mrs. Frazer’s lobster patties, one of which he would be sure to steal later.
Cecilia and Jane made their way along the old Elizabethan gallery, darkened now with the tapestry draperies closed, and down the stairs, where the sounds of the party were already floating upward. Jane left her at the landing, along with all the other servants who could escape from Redvers’s stern eye, to watch the arrivals. Jane sat down on the top step between Collins and Rose and waved Cecilia on.
The White Drawing Room had been transformed into a ballroom for the evening, and for a moment Cecilia stood transfixed in the doorway. It had been quite some time since Danby had put on such a glorious show. The red Venetian velvet chairs and settees had been pushed back to the walls to make room for a dance floor. Mr. Smithfield’s florist had quite outdone themselves with garlands and bowers of crimson and dark-gold roses, set off by deep-green leaves and vines and tied with crimson satin bows. Autumn-leafed trees in silver pots towered in each corner, giving the feeling of an enchanted fall forest. The air was rich with the scent of the roses and the mi
ngled perfumes of the guests. Jasmine, lilies, violets, and Cecilia’s own lilac scent.
She certainly never again wanted to smell anything like Monty Winter’s greenish cologne, which had clung to his threatening letters.
She shivered and reminded herself that tonight was for having fun. For forgetting. The orchestra that sat on a dais at the far end of the room, half-hidden by potted palms, played a lively polka. Couples already spun around the floor, a whirl of bright silks and satins and lush velvets, set off by the black of the men’s evening suits, the glitter of jewels, and wafting of feathers. It was all so beautiful, so joyful, so seemingly permanent, as if the loveliness of Danby would go on forever.
Cecilia now knew all too well it couldn’t. It was as fleeting as a butterfly fluttering higher and higher until it vanished into the sky. But she would certainly enjoy it while she could.
“Champagne, my lady?” Redvers appeared beside her with a silver tray of cut-crystal coupes, filled to the gilded brim with bubbling golden liquid. James and Paul were also moving through the crowd, offering champagne and claret cup to the guests, but she didn’t see Jesse. She tried to tell herself that small, sinking feeling was certainly not disappointment.
“Oh, thank you, Redvers. How delicious.” Cecilia took a sip and laughed as the bubbles tickled her nose. Redvers smiled indulgently. He had always spoiled her, even when she was a small child, slipping her biscuits and hot chocolate for her sweet tooth. Now champagne.
She glimpsed her parents standing near the grand carved marble fireplace, chatting with the Byswaters as her mother ran a careful eye over her party. Cecilia’s grandmother sat in an armchair nearby, grand as always in her Edwardian gray satins and pearls, a tiara shimmering in her old-style chignon of hair. To Cecilia’s surprise, the dowager was talking to—Lord Elphin! His suit was decidedly rusty looking, as if evening wear had not seen the light of day from his wardrobe in ages, but he nodded and smiled affably enough as he drank some of the claret cup.