by Jenna Jaxon
“I beg your pardon, my lady, my lord, if I seemed to suggest you were a common rogue who would do such a thing.” Jane glanced at Maria sharply, employing their private signal to meet after dinner to discuss whatever turn of events had given her pause. Apparently Jane’s sensibilities had not been convinced regarding Lord Kersey’s altruistic nature. “I can see you are far from common.”
Maria bit her spoon to keep from spewing syllabub all over the table. Jane would be the death of her yet.
Dinner ended at last and the gentlemen rose while the ladies made their way out of the room. Jane sidled up to Maria and whispered, “We must talk. Retire as soon as the gentlemen appear in the drawing room.”
Nodding, Maria followed behind them down the corridor whose walls were resplendent with paintings and artworks in the current fashion, although some done by master artists of previous centuries. It had been her pleasure each evening to walk the hall and stop to gaze at the various paintings. She would have done so again this evening, but Lady Kersey kept them at a fast pace all along the way to the blue and green drawing room.
Jane went directly to the fireplace, Lady Kersey to her bellpull and gave it a vigorous tug. Bringing up the rear, Maria had a moment to discern Jane’s summons likely had to do with further speculation about their change in fortune, and drifted toward her cousin, her hands outstretched to the cozy blaze.
“I think the weather is growing colder, don’t you, my dear?” Maria glanced at Lady Kersey, who had seated herself in the room’s largest chair, a dark blue figured pattern that drew the eye. “Is it something pressing?” Maria whispered.
“No, I don’t think so, but come to me as soon as you retire.” Rubbing her hands together briskly, Jane shuddered. “I do believe it may snow again in the next day or two, don’t you, Lady Kersey? One can always tell by how early the leaves of the chestnut tree fall.”
The topic of weather was thoroughly discussed, but the gentlemen still did not make an appearance, although the tea did. With a sigh, Jane moved to the sofa and settled herself in to wait. Having no other recourse, Maria followed after her, then sat beside her cousin, casting her mind about for some other acceptable topic.
“I have not yet discussed this with my cousin, Lady Kersey, but as Maria now has such an excellent companion in yourself, I am hoping she may be able to spare me to accomplish a long promised visit to the north in Scotland.” Jane sounded eager as she accepted a cup from the countess. Almost too eager. Did she have something in mind that didn’t actually involve her leaving? Or did she truly plan to leave Maria here with the strangers who were supposedly her family?
Once the notion had been spoken, Maria found she did not want to think of Jane leaving her side. Her cousin had been her staunchest supporter, via correspondence, all during the awful time when Alan was being unfaithful, and she had come from London immediately after Alan had died, remaining with Maria despite her own wants and desires. Well, perhaps it was time to let her cousin go and find her own kind of happiness. Lord knew she deserved to finally see the Scottish marquess she’d kept waiting for over half a year.
Steeling herself for the blow, Maria grasped her cousin’s hands and squeezed them. “Although I am loath to let you go, Jane, as you must fully know, I do believe you have kept Lord Kinellan waiting for far too long.” She patted Jane’s hand. “Will you go to him for Christmas, then?”
“I received an invitation to a Christmas house party at his estate in the Highlands just yesterday. I was going to send my regrets, but now I am leaning toward making the long and arduous journey.” Jane’s eyes sparkled, the excitement in them evident. “I would, however, need to leave here quickly. As you say, the weather seems ready to change, and any significant snowfall will make the journey impossible. Therefore”—Jane grasped Maria’s hand—“since you are well taken care of here, Maria, I believe I will take advantage of having already packed my bags and take my leave of both you and Lady Kersey in the morning.”
Maria’s brows rose almost to her hairline. “Had you already planned this, my dear?”
“I have been thinking about it ever since we learned you were to return to Kersey Hall. If you do not need me as a companion, I truly would like to go to Scotland.”
Clenching her jaw, Maria took up her cup, tepid by now, and continued to smile. Jane deserved this, deserved to find happiness with Lord Kinellan. That would only be possible if she went to him now. “I shall miss you very much, my dear. But you will regale me with stories about a true Scottish Christmas and I will do the same with the Kersey’s house party here.”
“It will only be a small gathering, Lady Kersey.” The countess leaned toward her eagerly. “But I hope it will suffice to make the season merry, despite the sorrow of all these deaths this year.” She shook her head, seeming genuinely concerned. “I think you are very brave, my lady. Your husband has been gone only a short amount of time, yet you are carrying on, meeting new people, managing new skills. I fear I could never do such things if my husband had died. I should be prostrate with grief.”
“I have found everyone grieves in their own fashion, Lady Kersey.” Jane smoothly took up the conversation. “Maria has been widowed before. We both lost husbands in the Battle of Waterloo. After the initial shock, one comes to accept it. If your family did right by you at your marriage, then you will have your settlements or a jointure to see you and your children through the most trying time. Afterward there are other options.”
“Such as remarriage?” Lady Kersey sat forward eagerly. “Do you plan to remarry after your mourning has passed, my lady?”
“Please do call me Maria. As we are to be the closest of friends and family, that ought to be the right thing to do.” Somehow, though, it didn’t seem right. But as they were both called Lady Kersey, it would be the easiest method of address in the long run.
“Thank you, my dear. And I beg you to call me Margery.” The lady’s delight showed all over. Her eyes brightened, she sat straighter in her chair, and her mouth broke into a wide, pleasant smile. “It will be lovely having a friend in a house full of men.” She turned eagerly to Jane. “Two friends, if you will call me Margery as well. Even though you will be leaving us so soon, you must return to us, Lady John. Especially if dear Maria does indeed remarry.”
“I am honored, Margery. You must call me Jane as well.” Her cousin’s demeanor had softened toward the countess. “Of course, I would be delighted to attend Maria’s wedding, especially as I was unable to do so the first two times she married. Are you looking for another husband, my dear?” Mouth twitching with suppressed laughter, Jane flashed Maria an “I told you so” glance.
“I fear I am not, Cousin.” Much as she might be attracted to Mr. Granger, this was hardly the time to speak of such a thing. “I am, of course, still in mourning for the late Lord Kersey. But even after that time, I have no plans to remarry.” She looked at her hands clenched in her lap. “I seem to not have much luck with marriage at all. And of course there is the scandal of my late husband’s duel and the cause for it.” Maria shot a pensive look at Margery, but the lady’s expression showed only interest, not censure. Perhaps she had not heard of Alan’s perfidy. “My cousin has had word from Town that the tale still lives. While it does, I dare not show my face.”
“I suspect that now the new Lord Kersey has taken up his title, some of that speculation will die down.” Jane’s words soothed her, but only a little. At this point, Maria would simply prefer to remain in the country and avoid the tongues that would certainly wag as soon as she showed her face in Town.
“Oh, my dear.” Margery grasped Maria’s hands. “I do understand that you would be hesitant to go back into Society too soon. But what if you come to feel some affection for another gentleman? Not before your mourning is finished, of course, as that would not be seemly. However, you cannot say if your affections might not be engaged with someone eventually. Would you like more tea, ladies?”
Maria nodded and handed her hostess her c
up, although Jane shook her head.
Margery poured more tea, added sugar and milk, and passed it back to Maria. “I couldn’t help but notice how well you and James seemed to get on at dinner, Maria.” Smiling, she attended to her own cup. “He is quite a good man, I must tell you. Steady, you know. Always so attentive to me. And he has a knack for the running of a property. He helped his father a good deal with the management of our estate in Virginia.”
“He spoke of your home in Dinwiddie, I think it is, quite fondly.” Wary at all the praise Margery heaped on her child, Maria sent a quick glance to Jane. Was their hostess suggesting an alliance with her second son? “I enjoyed our conversation.”
“Yes, James has always loved Bellevue. I daresay he may eventually make it his home, as my husband and Anthony will likely make their home here at Kersey.” The countess picked up her cup. “Have you ever wished to see America, Maria?”
The lukewarm tea in her mouth suddenly refused to be swallowed. Caught between the choices of being utterly rude and spewing tea all over her hostess or drowning in it, Maria opted to force the beverage down her throat. Tears came to her eyes as the painful swallow progressed. At last it passed, and she gasped for breath.
“I don’t believe my cousin has ever expressed a wish to visit the former colonies, my lady.” Dear Jane, ever to the rescue. “Did you find your life there as enjoyable as your son did?”
“Oh, yes.” The lady smiled warmly and set her cup on a side table. “I loved it quite as much as James. We were there for ten years, long enough for me to make friends. Good friends.” Her eyes brightened. “However, I fear I shall never see them again.”
“You do not think Lord Kersey will ever return to the property? Not even if your son takes up residence there?” Jane’s expression showed only an interested regard. Maria suspected some underlying reason for the query.
“I suppose he might return one day.” She looked off toward the fire, her face a study in dismay. “I would very much like to visit it once more, especially if James had taken up residence there.”
“Then I pray the earl does decide to journey back to Virginia, Margery.” The wistfulness in the lady’s face touched Maria’s heart. “I think you were happy there.”
Continuing to stare into the fire, Margery nodded.
“I fear I will not be happy anyplace but England.” Maria spoke forcefully, and from her heart. “I have never been one who enjoys traveling overmuch. If I can remain here at Kersey Hall, I am certain I shall be very happy to do so. Another reason why I do not think I shall marry again. If I stay here I am not likely to have many prospects.”
At that, Margery turned back to her. “I think you may be wrong there, my dear. With your Kersey connections and your own charming manner, I believe you may have any number of gentlemen vying for your hand.”
“Then too, I have learned my lesson, my dear. If I marry again, it must be for love alone.” This revelation had come to her not long ago, when she had been speaking to Mr. Granger. If he was indeed the one with whom her affections lay, then she must remain a widow if she was to care properly for her daughter. “Not duty, not expectation, not infatuation. But truly for love of the gentleman.”
“A wise decision, my dear.” Jane gave her hand a squeeze. “I know nothing other than a deep and abiding love could ever induce me to marry again.”
“And you may be surprised, Maria, with whom you do fall in love.” Margery gave her a knowing look as she reached for her tea. “Love can take you unawares, when you least expect it. So do not make too hasty a decision about what you will and won’t do. When love commands, a woman can do nothing but follow it.”
At that cryptic and somewhat alarming statement, Maria and Jane exchanged a glance. They would meet later to confer on Lady Kersey’s words and what they seemed to imply for Maria.
Chapter Ten
“Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven.” Maria kept count as Hatley, her lady’s maid, pulled the silver-backed brush through her long sable hair. The ritual hair brushing every evening before bedtime soothed Maria, though not so much as it had when she herself did the brushing. Before she’d become Lady Kersey. Now, the maid had informed her almost a year ago when she’d first come to Kersey, she should do as little as possible as befit her new station. So now she always had someone assist her to bathe, to dress, to brush her hair. She often thought that if it were humanly possible, the maids would eat for her as well.
A knock sounded on the door and Hatley left off at stroke twenty-eight, put the brush down, and went to answer it.
Maria snatched up the brush and pulled it through her hair. Twenty-nine, thirty.
“My lady!”
Guiltily, Maria held the brush out to the maid.
“Your cousin, Lady John, is here.” With a stern look, Hatley took the implement and retreated to the dressing room.
“Oh, Jane. Explain to me why I cannot brush my hair myself.” Maria rose from the chair and crawled up on the tall bed. She patted the fresh burgundy cover beside her. “If someone was seeing me do it, I would understand why a maid would perform the service. The upper classes are supposed to eschew manual labor of any sort. But no one sees me brush my hair but me.” She poked her lips out in a pout. “I daresay everyone would believe my maid brushes my hair whether she does or not. So why can’t I brush it instead? No one will ever know.”
Jane laughed, wrapped her shawl around her firmly, and climbed the short two steps then flopped onto the bed. “Well, I assume your husbands saw you doing it. At least William would have.”
Fire touched Maria’s cheeks. Her few nights with her first husband, her childhood friend, had been frightening and embarrassing. She remembered lying in bed, upstairs in her father’s house, with the covers pulled up to her chin the first night of her marriage. That image, and the long minutes after William had crawled in beside her, were the only memories she had of her first marriage. He’d left two days later for the army, and had never returned. “Actually, he didn’t. I was . . . It was a confusing time for me. Everything happened so quickly. We were only together for two nights and . . .”
“You were so very young, my dear. Sixteen, isn’t that right? Not even properly out of the schoolroom.”
“Yes. We wanted to wait, wanted to be married when we were older. But William felt his duty to country keenly. So our parents allowed us to marry in case . . . in case he didn’t come home.” Maria bit her lips. There was something about her marriage she’d not told a soul. “When William’s parents saw that he was so set on going into battle, they talked to Mother and Father and pushed them hard to agree to the marriage. They wanted us to marry in the hopes that there would be a child, you see.”
“In case William didn’t come home, yes. I’m so sorry, my dear.”
Brushing at a tear that had trickled down her cheek, Maria sniffed and hugged her knees to her. “It seems so unfair that I should have had Alan’s child so quickly after we . . . were together. Why couldn’t it have happened that way with William? I’d likely have stayed at home with my parents and raised his child there, where everything was familiar. I would not be here, in the huge house with all these strangers. William’s parents would have loved a grandchild so much. Now I have Alan’s daughter, but there’s no one else to share her with.”
“I’m so sorry, Maria.” Jane slid over and wrapped her arms around her. “Are you dreadfully unhappy here?”
“Not dreadfully, no. But I do miss my life at home. I just don’t think about it very often, because it makes me sad. But tonight, Mr. Garrett spoke of his longing for home and it made me think about my home as well.”
“I think Lady Kersey is a fair way toward making a match between you and her son. Her second son, thank God.” Unwinding her arms from Maria, Jane leaned back, her elbows on the bed. “The oldest one, the heir, is trouble in no uncertain terms. I was watching him tonight at dinner.”
“Oh, you were?” Banishing her melancholy, Maria stretched out on the b
ed, her head propped up on her hand, so she faced Jane. “Do you have hopes of snaring him for a tryst now?”
“Heaven forbid.” Jane’s head thumped back on the bed. “Didn’t I just say the gentleman was trouble? No, I was watching him watch you and his brother.”
“He was watching me?” Maria bounded up, her hair swirling around her. “Why?”
“You are a beautiful woman with a sweet disposition. Why would he not be interested in you?”
“Because I have no fortune. Indeed, no means of keeping myself without the goodwill of his family. Women like that can be had in any village and indeed on every street in London.” She’d noticed Lord Wetherby’s interest, but much preferred his brother’s conversation.
“Oh, I didn’t say he’d be interested in marrying you.” Chuckling, Jane sat up. “Lord Wetherby is destined for a grand marriage to the daughter of a duke—or at the least a marquess. His father will see to that. But in the meantime, he must amuse himself somehow in the country. What better way than a dalliance with a pretty woman, especially one so close to hand?”
“Jane!” Maria stared at her cousin, a chill running down her arms. “You don’t think Lord Kersey brought me back to live at the Hall so I could dally with his son, do you?”
“That would be a touch Machiavellian, wouldn’t it?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Jane sighed and shook her head. “The point is, if you did choose to dally with Wetherby, and you began to increase, he would have to marry you, or the scandal would ruin the whole family. You are here under the protection of Lord and Lady Kersey.”
“I have no plans to dally with anyone, including Lord Wetherby.” That was not strictly true, of course. If the occasion arose, she might indulge in a dalliance with Mr. Granger. But Lord Wetherby was out of the question.
“It would answer the question of what is to become of you.” Abruptly, Jane slid to the floor. “Married to the heir, you would eventually become Lady Kersey once more.”
