by Rose Pearson
That thought made him frown all the more as he walked quickly through the cold London streets, feeling a slow swell of fear rising up in him. He did not want to lose her to George Grainger, but if the man had already proposed, then it meant that there was not that much time left for him to attempt to court her.
“Perhaps you should have said something to her, then,” he muttered aloud, as he crossed the road towards the bookshop and the seamstress, where he had last seen Lady Harrows. He had realized yesterday, as he had been dancing the quadrille with Miss Brooke, that when Lady Harrows had mentioned about being at the seamstress with a friend that day they had met on the London streets, the friend she had referred to was none other than Jane Brookes. Everything made much more sense now, realizing that the reason Lady Harrows and George Grainger had been talking with such openness was simply down to the fact that they were brother and sister. Not that anyone might have guessed, since Lady Harrows did not bear any resemblance to her brother, with her blonde tresses and warm brown eyes.
“Yes, my lord?”
The seamstress jumped to attention the minute he pushed open the door, evidently more than eager to please.
“Yes,” he began, clearing his throat. “I understand that you have been serving a Lady Harrows?” Seeing the seamstress nod, he smiled and, coming towards the counter, continued his conversation. “And she was purchasing items for her friend, I believe.”
“Yes, that is quite correct, my lord,” the seamstress replied, with just a hint of censure in her voice. “Although I will not be giving out the address of those I served, my lord, in case you are considering –”
“No, indeed,” he exclaimed, interrupting her. “It was more that I wished to purchase a gift for the lady that is currently residing with Lady Harrows. Miss Brookes. Miss Jane Brookes.”
At this, the seamstress’ expression cleared, and she regarded him with a slightly quizzical air, as though a little confused as to what precisely he was looking for in a dress maker’s shop.
“I confess that I do not know the address of Lady Harrows,” he explained. “Not that I wish you to give it to me, for that would not be right. However, I think you might be willing to send a gift to the young lady that resides there, for a fee?” He put on a rather inquiring yet hopeful look, his gaze soft and a tiny smile crinkling the corner of his mouth.
The seamstress smiled, no trace of her concern in her features any longer. “But of course, my lord!” she exclaimed, coming around from the counter and gesturing towards a table where there lay many pairs of gloves. “Might I suggest something like this? Either gloves for an evening or gloves for the winter? Either would suit the lady remarkably well.”
It was a good suggestion and James felt himself picking out a pair of winter gloves for Miss Jane, as well as a muffler, which he had not intended to buy but which he thought was quite lovely. The seamstress was quite delighted with his purchases and promised to wrap everything up at once and send it directly. She then asked if he would like to send a note with it and, for a moment, James found himself quite confused over what he ought to say.
“Yes,” he stammered, trying to find something coherent to put in a note that would not make his intentions too obvious, for he did want to speak to her about all that was in his heart. “I think….might you just put something like, ‘I greatly enjoyed our dances last evening and think you a most remarkable lady. I hope to call upon you soon, whenever is convenient.’” He rubbed his chin as the seamstress frowned, tilted her head and then gave a slight shrug before going in search of a quill. He did not know what else to say and therefore waited for her to finish the note before signing it himself, with a grand flourish.
“That will be sent to the house within the hour,” the seamstress promised, her eyes a little narrowed as she watched him. “I hope you manage to capture her affections, my lord.”
“Thank you,” he replied, with a small inclination of his head. Picking up his hat and gloves, he put them all on again before venturing out into the cold windy weather.
Within a minute or so of his braving the outdoors, hailstones began to fall from the sky, slamming into his face with more pain than he had expected. Pulling up his collar a little more and cursing under his breath, James continued doggedly onwards, wishing that there were more hackneys on the roads so that he might hail one. As it stood, the road appeared to be almost entirely empty, leaving him without any hope of getting out of the wind.
“This way, sir!”
A cheeky voice caught his ears, a small hand tugging at his coat.
“Be off with you!” he exclaimed, aware that the beggar children were using the bad weather to do what they could to steal from those around them. “I have nothing in my pockets worth having.”
The young boy who still had a hold of his hand continued to try and drag him out of the wind, whilst something seemed to push him from behind. Stumbling and muttering angrily under his breath, James attempted to see where he was going whilst freeing himself from their grasping hands but found it much too difficult. The hailstones had now turned into flurries of snow that seemed to blind him, the wind whistling about his ears and sending shivers all through him. The children laughed and shrieked with the delight of it all, as though they were attempting to take down a giant. Growing rather frustrated and, to his shame, a little afraid, James did his best to shake off the small hands that grasped at him, aware that they were digging into his pockets, with one even stealing the glove from his hand.
“That is quite enough!” he exclaimed, before walking straight into something solid and, given the cry that came from it, certainly alive. Another shriek met his ears and the children scattered, leaving him even more unbalanced. Tumbling to the ground, he found himself falling onto something rather soft instead of the hard ground he had expected.
“I do apologize,” he stammered, attempting to get to his feet but finding that he was somehow managing to press down all the harder onto whoever lay at his feet. His face was aflame with embarrassment as he finally managed to rise, glad to have freed himself from the street urchins and the lady he had walked into. “I’m afraid the beggar children quite overwhelmed me. Might I assist you?”
The wind continued to blow the snow all around him, sheets of it seeming to come down at once. The lady on the ground was dressed in a mixture of white and light-yellow colors, which he silently thought was quite a ridiculous choice based on the weather and the season.
“My goodness,” she gasped as, finally managing to locate her hand, he helped her to stand. “That was quite extraordinary, Lord….?”
He hesitated for a moment, something beginning to warn him to be careful. “Lord Halifax,” he said, slowly, immediately feeling a sense of regret that he had spoken so candidly. “Whatever damage has been caused, my lady, I will, of course, pay for it all.”
The lady still had a hold of his fingers. “I should think so,” she replied, with a little more brightness to her voice than he had expected after such a calamitous encounter. “Well, Lord Halifax, might you guide me to my carriage? It is somewhere about but I seem to have lost my way in the snow.”
“But of course,” he agreed, looking about him hopelessly, as though he might be able to see the carriage just by looking. “If you will just wait here then I might go in search of it.”
“No, no!” the lady exclaimed, grasping his fingers almost painfully. “No, do not leave me alone, good sir. Here, now, I think there must be a shop of some kind nearby, for that is where I was intending on going myself. Perhaps if we walk together, we will be able to find some sort of shelter.”
James made to answer, only for the lady to begin to walk away, half dragging him along with her. He had no other choice but to follow her, wanting to appear decorous and more than willing to do as she wished, given what he had just done to inconvenience her.
“Here,” the lady sighed, pulling open the door of the bookshop. “It is here. I knew it would be.”
“Wonderful,” Jam
es murmured, as the lady let go of his fingers and stepped into the warm bookshop. He managed to get his first proper look at the lady he had inconvenienced so terribly, still quite astonished that she had chosen to clad herself in cream colors that seemed to make her so indistinct.
“Lady Crawford,” the lady murmured, turning around to greet James properly for the first time. She was not overly tall, with a thin, willowy figure and high cheekbones. Her face was quite pale, her eyes a splash of blue although slowly some color was coming back to her cheeks. Quite a pretty creature, James noted, although nothing in him stirred at the sight of her. Quite frankly, he wanted nothing other than to be on his way, but it would be rude to remove himself from her presence so quickly.
Carefully removing her bonnet, which he noticed to now be rather damp and a little squashed, she bobbed a quick curtsy before setting it on the counter with a murmur of apology to the bookshop owner.
“Lady Crawford,” James mumbled, quite taken aback by the lady in front of him. “I am truly sorry for walking into you so.”
The lady looked down at the length of her gown and cloak, seeing the dirty marks and the water stains that clung to it. “It could not be helped, I suppose,” she sighed, with a small, wry smile. “Beggar children, did you say?”
He nodded, a little embarrassed that the children had managed to get an advantage on him. “I did. Scrawny little things but apparently an army of them.”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling despite her stained and dirty garments. “I am glad you were not hurt yourself, Lord Halifax.”
Inclining his head, James cleared his throat and made his way towards the door. “The snow is still rather heavy, but I think I should be able to go in search of your carriage, Lady Crawford,” he said, wanting to hurry away from this situation as quickly as he could. “Is it nearby?”
Lady Crawford laughed softly and shook her head. “My dear Lord Halifax, you cannot truly be thinking of leaving me in such a terrible state, can you? No, no. We must become better acquainted, given that the news of our encounter will be in the society papers come the morrow.”
A shiver of dread ran down his spine. “What do you mean, Lady Crawford?” he asked, turning around. “In the society papers? Why? Nothing indiscreet or improper has occurred and there was no-one nearby to see our unfortunate meeting.”
Lady Crawford laughed again, her eyes narrowing just a little as her lips curved into a cruel smile. “Come now, Lord Halifax, you cannot be as foolish as all that! Surely you must know how dearly I love gossip.” She lifted one eyebrow, smiling at him still. “It is what I live on, Lord Halifax. Therefore, it shall be in the society papers tomorrow and you shall have to make do with it what you will.”
“I do not understand,” he said, rubbing his forehead for a moment. “I have done nothing wrong, Lady Crawford. It was a simple accident.”
“But I am short of a protector or two,” she replied, with a slight lift of her shoulders. “And this will surely entice some gentleman or other to come and ensure that I am not too badly injured after such an encounter.” She smirked and, picking up her bonnet, walked to the door and out into the snow which had only just begun to clear. “Good day, Lord Halifax.”
Stunned, James turned towards the bookshop owner, seeing the older man mumble something under his breath and turn away.
“Who is Lady Crawford, my good man?” he asked, walking towards the man. “It seems I am the only one unaware of who she is for I have very little understanding of what she is talking about.”
The bookshop owner lifted one eyebrow, planting both hands on the counter. “Lady Crawford is a widow, my lord,” he said, plainly. “A very generous widow, if you have my meaning. It might be that she will take some form of payment in order to keep her mouth shut about what has occurred, for you can be certain she will embellish it and add to it until it doesn’t resemble what happened here this afternoon at all.”
Closing his eyes, James dragged in air, his head beginning to spin.
“Her gentlemen friends are often in short supply during the little Season,” the bookshop owner muttered, shaking his head. “She’s got to find money to live on somehow. Her late husband left her with barely a penny. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her, my lord. She is well known for making the gentlemen of the ton do precisely what she wishes.”
Swallowing hard, James looked at the man again and saw the concern in his eyes. “And if I furnish her with funds, then you believe she may not write to the society papers after all?”
The bookshop owner shrugged. “I couldn’t say for certain, my lord. Although you have my word that I will help you in any way I can, should you require it.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Although I doubt very much that the gentry would listen to a fellow like me.”
James nodded, attempted a smile and thanked the man profusely before quitting the shop, walking back out into the flurries of snow that had, thankfully, just begun to settle. He did not know what to think of Lady Crawford and her threats, trying to make himself believe that nothing would come of it, that even if she did write to the society papers, he would not be obliged to do anything. It would just be as she had hoped – gentlemen of the ton would read about what had occurred and go to seek her out to ensure she was not too badly injured, giving her the company and the money she would require for the next few months.
It was not something he wanted any part of and yet the fear that he would be painted as the worst sort of gentleman continued to bite at him. He began to be afraid that whatever Lady Crawford wrote in the society papers, it would make him out to be a cad. He could not be certain that Miss Jane Brookes would not believe it, for she did not know him particularly well as yet and might easily be persuaded by gossip.
Snow fell onto his nose and cheeks as he walked, sending a shiver through him. He did not want to lie and certainly did not want to bribe Lady Crawford into silence, but it might be the only way to keep her from ruining what could be his one and only opportunity to declare himself to Miss Jane Brookes. Once they were courting, once they had become dear to one another, he might then explain to Jane what it was that had occurred with Lady Crawford. Surely then she would have no hesitation in understanding what he had done and why?
With a heavy heart, James turned back around towards the bookshop. He would have to find out where Lady Crawford resided and, from there, go and speak to the lady. He did not particularly wish to do so but felt that this was the only way to escape the trap that was already being laid for him. Money was of no consequence to him – he had more than enough of it and if it could be used to keep him free from rumor, then so be it.
Lady Crawford was to have what she wished after all.
Chapter Six
“Miss Brookes?”
Jane jumped in surprise, having not heard the footman walk into the library, given just how engrossed she was in her current novel.
“Yes?” she asked, seeing the footman holding a small parcel. “Is this for me?”
“It is, miss,” the footman replied, without smiling. “It arrived only a few minutes ago. There is a note with it.” He handed her the note and turned away, leaving her to unwrap the parcel alone.
Her heart began to thump with excited anticipation as she untied the thin green ribbon, leaving her only with the brown paper to unwrap. Whatever it was, it was very soft. Unfolding the paper and pushing it back, Jane caught her breath as she looked down at a pair of kid gloves and, beside them, a fur-lined muffler.
She had been sent a gift. Two gifts, in fact. And she had very little idea of who had sent them.
“The note,” she murmured aloud, finding the paper on her lap and quickly untying the ribbon. Her eyes scanned the words, her stomach suddenly dropping to the floor as she read it.
“Jane?”
George Grainger’s voice floated along the hallway towards the library, but Jane could not find her voice in time to call out to him. She was still staring at the note in her hand.
“
So, this is where you have been hiding!” Grainger declared, coming into the library with a broad smile on his face. “I have been looking for you high and low, Jane. Mary is just coming also. I think we are to take tea together, although I think that the library will be just as good a place as the drawing room. After which, she wishes to play snapdragon, which I have told her is a most childish game, but she insists upon it, I’m afraid!” A slight frown caught his brows as he saw her staring up at him, the parcel in her lap and the note in her hand. “Jane, is everything quite all right?”
“I received a note,” Jane whispered, hardly able to speak. “From Lord Halifax.”
“Lord Halifax?” George repeated, just as Mary walked into the room in a flurry of skirts, apologizing profusely for being tardy and exclaiming that, no matter what George said, she insisted that they all play snapdragon. “Mary, Jane has just received a gift and a note from Lord Halifax.”
Mary stopped dead, her hands planted on her hips as she stared at Jane in astonishment. “From Lord Halifax?” she repeated, shocked. “What does it say, Jane? Can you tell us?”
Nodding, Jane shook out the letter and began to read it again, her heart still beating furiously. “It says, ‘I greatly enjoyed our dances last evening and think you a most remarkable lady. I hope to call upon you soon, whenever is convenient.’” Looking up, she gave a small, hopeless shrug. “I do not understand what this means.”
George sank into a chair, his brows furrowed. “Mayhap he is simply trying to be a kind and generous brother in law,” he said, slowly. “Even though he is not one as yet, I think mayhap he may be simply trying to prove himself to you.”
“But that does not make sense,” Mary argued, ringing the bell so that the staff would know to take the tea trays into the library. “To compliment her so – not that you do not deserve it, Jane – and then to state that he wishes to call upon her, leaves her with the sense that he is attempting to procure her favors.”
