‘I learned a long time ago that it is best to stay away during their—er—debates.’ He grimaced, adding slowly, ‘Can I invite you to the small parlour, where you will be safe from all of it?’
A wave of relief washed over her, tempered by a sense of trepidation.
Everything is wrong here!
‘Thank you.’
He led her inside and closed the door. The sounds of debate could clearly be heard, even through the thick walls. Thankfully, they could not make out any words.
‘You may be at ease,’ he said neutrally. ‘They never come in here.’
A flash of insight came to her. ‘You would come in here as a child?’
‘I still do, even now. Mama, too. She uses this parlour as her own sitting room in the afternoons.’
He invited her to sit, then seated himself opposite.
‘My uncle and aunt are all that is good, of course, but their engagements can be wearisome for others. Mama would often take me in here and read to me during those times.’
‘Did anyone ever try to—to settle their disputes?’
‘Lord, no! We discovered years ago that they both glory in opposition. Strange as it may sound, they quite relish their quarrels.’
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘How peculiar!’ She paused. ‘I was very surprised to discover that no one here knew that I am Edward’s daughter.’
He eyed her evenly. ‘Indeed?’
This was not in the least encouraging.
‘I assumed everyone knew. But I think that people may have thought I was...not legitimate.’
‘It seemed the most likely explanation.’
‘My papa died far from home and with little money. The estrangement from his father and his home must have hurt him deeply.’
Nothing. He just sat there, listening.
Where has my friend gone? Lord, have I ruined everything?
‘My mama and Lady Kingswood both advised me to be circumspect. Mama in particular has no reason to love Mr Millthorpe.’
‘I see.’ He sounded uninterested. ‘Now, enough about family matters. How vexed are you about this dashed soirée?’
His tone and manner were all politeness, yet there was no warmth in his eyes. Her heart sank.
‘Oh, well, I should much rather not go, but—’ She squared her shoulders. ‘If I am to go, I shall make the best of it.’
He eyed her thoughtfully, and looked as though he was about to say something. After a long moment, he gave a slight shake of the head. ‘As a lady’s maid, did you assist with such evenings at Ledbury House?’
That is not what he was going to say.
‘Only if it was a very large celebration. I usually stayed in my mistress’s chamber, in case she needed me. There have been times when I was needed to sew a hem or a torn flounce. And of course I waited up until she was ready to retire...helped her be comfortable.’
That is, on the nights she retired alone. When my lord was there...
She blushed, remembering some of those nights when she had fled in confusion as Lord and Lady Kingswood had clearly planned amorous activity.
Why must I think of such things right now?
She knew the answer. It was there in her quickened heartbeat and in the warm feeling in her chest. It was as though there was a lit candle inside her when she and Mr Kendal were in the same room. In truth, she would love to do the things with him that she had understood Lord and Lady Kingswood must do...
‘Tell me,’ she said, to cover her confusion. ‘Does Mrs Millthorpe have a sister?’
He nodded. ‘She does. She is widowed and lives in Knaresborough. She and my aunt see each other regularly. Why?’
‘I overheard Mrs Millthorpe mention her.’
‘Is that the way of it?’ He jerked his head towards the library. ‘My aunt frequently threatens to leave and live with her sister, but then, when she is calmer, she says her duty to her husband keeps her here.’
‘I see.’
The entire household would be more tranquil if Mrs Millthorpe did live elsewhere. She bit her lip at such an uncharitable thought. But of course Mrs Millthorpe could not leave—not without causing a local scandal.
She is trapped here. And everyone feels her unhappiness.
‘I have no complaints about my life, Miss Bailey,’ he said.
His insight was impressive.
‘Are my thoughts so transparent to you?’
He looked startled at this impertinent question.
Confused, she rushed on. ‘Of course you do not. But do you not sometimes wish circumstances were different?’
His eyes widened, and then a strange rigidity developed in his bearing. ‘I cannot. I must deal only with reality.’ His tone was flat.
He looked at her for a long moment, then rose abruptly, walking to the window.
‘I think it will stay dry. We shall go to visit the Dodsworths around three, if that pleases you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Good.’
He bowed, and left, leaving her discomposed and more than a little confused. She sat there, feeling deflated at the breach between them. Since yesterday things had changed.
How I wish we could go back to that easy friendship!
It was only now, when it was gone, that she could truly understand how important it had been to her.
* * *
Mr Kendal, it seemed, was something of a whip. When Jane stepped outside with him, to travel to the Dodsworths’ home, she could not hold back an exclamation.
‘A curricle! How exciting!’
She was determined to be cheerful and friendly, and at all costs to hide her unhappiness. The knowledge that he was displeased with her was draining her confidence and occupying her mind to the detriment of all else.
She moved forward to inspect the carriage. The body was a bright yellow, trimmed with black, and the black hood was folded down. The two wheels were enormous, and far, far above her head was the seat where she would sit in close proximity to Mr Kendal.
It would have been perfect if they had only been in harmony, like before.
‘Let me assist you.’
His tone was polite, neutral, pleasant. It was killing her, slowly and agonisingly.
She held on tightly as he climbed up and slid in beside her. His left thigh was pressing against her right one in a most exciting way and his upper arm was in full contact with hers. Her body immediately awoke, demanding impossible things.
No, I must not lean into him, nor move my leg so I can feel the friction with his, nor—
‘This is a little like our journey north,’ she said, all in a rush.
As soon as she heard her own too honest words she closed her eyes briefly in horror.
He seemed unperturbed.
‘I was just thinking that.’
He was?
He lifted the reins. ‘Hiya!’
His proximity was briefly forgotten as the two matched greys stepped out and the curricle lurched forward. Fear of imminent death immediately replaced the desire that had been flooding through her a moment ago.
‘Is it safe?’ she asked fearfully, stealing a glimpse at the ground, which looked very far away.
‘Are you questioning my driving abilities?’
‘Oh, no, of course not! I would never presume to—Oh! You are teasing me!’
His familiar grin flashed briefly. ‘Yes, it is safe. I know how to handle the reins, and I know my horses.’
‘I have only ever been in a cart or a gig, and now and again in Lord and Lady Kingswood’s coach. Never have I been up so high!’
‘I surmised that.’
‘Is—is that why you have brought the curricle today?’ she asked shyly.
‘You think I have done it simply to please you?’
‘Oh, I
—no, of course not!’
‘I have missed driving the curricle these past weeks,’ he continued smoothly, seeming to ignore her consternation.
‘Of course.’
Jane turned her head away, hoping her bonnet was hiding the feelings she was sure were transparent on her face. Why was she suddenly so tongue-tied around him? Where was their previous easy amity?
The feeling persisted throughout the journey, and during their visit with the Dodsworths.
They stayed for an hour, during which Jane became conscious of two things. First, that she dearly wished she could have Miss Dodsworth for a friend. Second, that Mrs Millthorpe had been right to hint at the suitability of Miss Dodsworth as a possible wife for Mr Kendal.
Having known each other from childhood, they used first-name terms as easily as they did the more formal adult titles, and Miss Dodsworth teased Mr Kendal continually. Her parents, too, were on great terms with him, and they all fondly regaled Jane with memories of Mr Kendal as a child and a youth.
It was fascinating and strangely heartbreaking all at once.
Once back in the curricle, Jane decided to maintain the air of forced cheerfulness she had adopted earlier. ‘Miss Dodsworth is such a lovely young lady!’ she offered. ‘So kind and accomplished—but I do not know what I shall do if I am asked to play the piano on Thursday, for I have never played so much as a note!’
He frowned. ‘I had not considered that before. But there are many ladies who do not play the piano.’
‘But if they do not play the piano then they play the harp! I shall be exposed as an intruder in their midst. In truth I felt deeply uncomfortable even just now.’
‘You did? It seemed to me that you were at ease with the Dodsworths?’
‘Oh, I was! Such a warm, welcoming family! But even as I was feeling welcomed and included, I also knew I should not be there.’
He shook his head. ‘Your situation is complicated, indeed.’
He looked ahead, lapsing into silence.
He still will not speak to me of it, then. Perhaps it is too late, and his good opinion of me is lost.
Seated up there, high above the realities of daily life, and driving along quiet roads, they might be the only two people in all of England. If only he would smile at her again. Just once more. She would keep the memory of it for ever.
‘Hiya!’
They had reached a wide, empty stretch of road and he drove the horses faster. Amidst the thrill of speed, Jane was conscious of a stabbing pain in her heart. She suspected he had deliberately broken the uneasiness of the moment with the gallop.
A lump formed in her throat. It all contrasted starkly with his efforts to know her better during their journey northwards.
He does not wish to deepen our acquaintance now. All is changed. I would do well to accept that.
The words in her mind made perfect sense. Her heart, however, was not listening.
* * *
Robert kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, knowing that to look at her would not be helpful to his peace of mind. The shock of his uncle’s revelation was beginning to dissipate, and along with it came a welcome return to an improved clear-headedness.
He had listened carefully to her explanation and it had rung true. He believed his first instincts were correct and she had not intentionally misled him. But the hurt remained, and with it a certain wariness, yet at a deeper level his desire for her was resurging.
These shifting sands continued to trouble him. He was yet to figure out how the situation might unfold, but one thing was certain.
I need to tread carefully.
Chapter Nineteen
Jane caught her breath. Over the years she had had many moments of triumph in her dressmaking efforts—moments when she had seen Lady Kingswood in one of her creations and known—just known—that her mistress would outshine all the other ladies at the ball or rout she was attending.
But this time it was not Lady Kingswood wearing the dress. It was her.
‘My word, miss!’ Nancy’s voice was an awed whisper. ‘You look—you look like an angel!’
Jane could not speak.
Is that really me?
From the dark curls clustering around her forehead to the pink satin slippers at her feet, she looked every inch the elegant lady. The dress was a triumph. Henby and Eliza had created a plain pink satin slip under the pink stripe, and Jane had added her bodice to it with ease. Her natural talent for dressmaking, her keen eye for detail, and her years of painstaking learning and skill had combined to ensure this dress would be the best she could possibly manage.
After stitching together the bodice, and connecting it to the main part of the dress with tiny, neat stitches, she had finished it with small details that lifted the dress from ordinary to stunning—a gold trim and a line of fabric roses under the bust, gorgeous Brussels lace around the low neckline and the short, puffed sleeves.
Working deep into the night last night, she had even added a fall of lace around the hem, and pink fabric roses to her plain pink slippers.
Her exhaustion had been an excellent distraction from the agony her heart was experiencing. From the breach with Mr Kendal that occupied her every thought, her every waking moment.
They had gone from being strangers to friends, and then to something more than friends. Now it seemed they were back to being strangers again. In company, she managed to maintain her equilibrium—years of servant discipline combining with a desire not to shame her papa and mama. In private, it was an entirely different matter.
Her spirits were low...lower than she could ever remember.
After Master Henry’s attack she had been in a perpetual state of fear for a time, and had afterwards felt shamed and disgraced by what he had done to her. He had destroyed the belief that she had been building in her seventeen-year-old self.
Since then she had worked hard not to listen to that lowering voice within her. The one that told her she was unimportant. She was worthless. She was nothing.
For years she had battled to make herself new, and she had, she believed, been succeeding. Apart from the memory attacks—which were becoming less frequent—she had become ever more successful in believing that she was strong and competent and capable.
All that work was now hanging by a thread.
Master Henry was reasserting himself within her soul, threatening to rise up and overpower her at any moment.
I am trouble, her broken self whispered. I am useless. I am incapable even of sustaining a friendship that was important to me.
No! she replied to that self with passion. I am a good lady’s maid. I am a competent seamstress. I am a good daughter.
But thoughts of her mama, so far away, threatened to undo her. Thoughts of Mr Kendal frequently did.
Nancy must know how she cried at night, for the housemaid had, without any request on her part, placed clean handkerchiefs under her pillow and on her nightstand.
Now Nancy helped her don Mrs Kendal’s old evening gloves, and then she was ready.
At least I look like a lady, she told herself fiercely.
She might not be able to play an instrument, and her arrival might have caused untold trouble in this household, but at least her appearance was nothing to be ashamed of.
Still, she could not prevent the wave of uneasiness flowing through her as she made her way to the salon.
Shall I disgrace myself tonight? Shall I embarrass my grandfather? What will Mr Kendal think of me?
Her stomach lurched as she imagined herself being disdained or laughed at by dozens of unknown people.
She was last to arrive, and as she entered the salon all conversation stopped. Both Mrs Kendal and Mrs Millthorpe surveyed her quickly, from head to toe, while Mr Millthorpe lifted the quizzing glass tied to his breeches in order to scrutinise her more exactly.
Mr Kendal—oh, Mr Kendal’s eyes were suddenly ablaze with admiration, sending a warm glow through her.
Could he still have some regard for me?
Her heart leapt.
All of this she took in in an instant, before Mrs Kendal broke the stunned silence to bustle forward and envelop her in a warm embrace. ‘My dear, you look charming!’ She turned to stand beside Jane, one arm still curled around her waist. ‘Does she not look splendid, everyone?’
Jane could feel her colour rising. ‘Oh, no...’ she protested weakly. She had forgotten Mrs Millthorpe’s propensity for plain speaking.
But... ‘You will not discredit me,’ she pronounced, with a regal nod. ‘So long as no one knows the truth about your background. Are those fabric roses?’ she added, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Jane confirmed it.
‘Well, Henby and Eliza have done an excellent job! Who would have thought an old dress could be reworked so well?’
‘Eh? What’s that?’ Mr Millthorpe’s gaze sharpened. ‘Is this an old dress? Where did you get it from?’
‘There was an old trunk in the attic, stuffed full of them,’ his spouse explained.
‘I thought that pink stripe looked familiar,’ he responded cryptically. ‘Help me up!’
Mrs Kendal dashed forward to do so. Meanwhile her son strode directly towards Jane.
From the day she had first caught sight of him at Ledbury House, Jane had known him to be handsome. Tonight, in full evening wear, he looked simply magnificent. Magnificent, handsome, and, oh, so dear to her.
Lifting her gloved hand, he looked directly into her eyes. ‘Beautiful.’
The single word reverberated through Jane, sending a glow of happiness radiating out from her chest to every part of her.
‘Come with me, child!’ Mr Millthorpe hobbled past them, moving more quickly than was his usual habit. He was clearly animated about something.
Jane cast a brief questioning glance at Mr Kendal, who replied with a slight shrug.
Silently she accompanied Mr Millthorpe down the corridor, her heart still racing at Mr Kendal’s reaction just now.
Mr Millthorpe paused outside the door of one of the smaller sitting rooms, seemed to ready himself for a moment, then opened the door.
Rags-to-Riches Wife Page 17