by Anne Ashley
‘Jenny, can you possibly spare me a few minutes of your time?’
‘As much as you like, my dear,’ she responded, striving to sound cheerful herself when, in fact, her misgivings were swiftly increasing. What on earth had Lady Carstairs been saying? Surely she hadn’t travelled all the way to Somerset merely to take Serena roundly to task for having left the family home? Sadly that wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. Lady Carstairs could on occasions, Jennifer reflected, experiencing a stab of irritation, be a remarkably tiresome and foolish female! She decided not to waste time in trying to avoid the issue.
‘Naturally I have been apprised of your mother’s arrival, but thought you would appreciate some time alone together. I trust that Slocombe has seen to everything in his usual, efficient way, and has had a room prepared for her?’
Serena shook her head. ‘Mama is putting up at the local inn. She has, in fact, already returned there. She intends to leave for Hampshire directly after luncheon, and is hoping that I shall accompany her.’
‘And will you?’ Jennifer enquired, uneasiness mounting.
‘But of course! Mama swiftly made me realise how very foolish I had been to run away in that dramatic way. More the actions of a silly schoolgirl than a sensible woman, wouldn’t you say?’
Jennifer found herself quite unable to say anything, and merely stared rather thoughtfully across the room, until Serena, lowering her own gaze, went across to stand by the window.
‘Mama has made me realise too that I’ve been foolish to turn down Lord Sloane’s offer of marriage, without giving the matter some serious thought. And upon reflection I have decided to reconsider. After all, Jenny, I shall be a titled lady if I marry him, able to command respect. I’ll be mistress of my own home too. There’s a great deal to be said for that… So, you see, I have experienced a change of heart, and have decided to marry the Baron.’
Serena’s unexpected gurgle of laughter before she turned to look across the room sounded more than just a little forced. ‘Well…? Are you not going to congratulate me?’
‘I might if I thought for a moment that your heart was truly involved.’ Jennifer thought she could detect a suspicion of tears before her friend, once more seeming unable to meet her gaze, turned to stare out of the window again.
‘I would be the first to admit that it is less than sensible to make snap judgements on our fellows,’ she went on, when Serena didn’t attempt to speak. ‘None the less, I took an instant dislike to Lord Sloane when I met him in London. You were given the opportunity to become better acquainted with him than I was, and you came to the conclusion that he was the very last man you would ever wish to marry. It is my considered opinion that you haven’t changed your mind. It is also my considered opinion that up until the interview with your mother a short while ago nothing in the world would ever have induced you to marry Lord Sloane. Furthermore,’ she added, with a flash of inspiration, determined to get to the truth, ‘I have witnessed a sincere regard developing between you and a certain other gentleman—’
‘Don’t! Please don’t!’ Serena cut in, her voice an agonised cry. ‘I have no choice, don’t you see!’
‘No, my dear, I do not see,’ Jennifer returned, unfailingly truthful, before she bridged the distance between them and coaxed a now silently weeping Serena to sit on the chaise-longue.
This rare display of emotion was confirmation enough for Jennifer to be sure that her suspicions hadn’t been mere fancy. Serena was no fickle young woman, given to changing her mind at the drop of a hat. Unless Jennifer misunderstood the situation entirely, Serena still had no desire to become Lady Sloane. So what on earth could Lady Carstairs have disclosed to force poor Serena to reconsider?
‘May I ask you something?’ She paused a moment, waiting for the tears to subside. ‘Does your mother truly wish you to form an alliance with this man?’
Appearing utterly wretched, Serena shook her head. ‘She loathes him… Poor Mama! She looked so ill…is at her wits’ end.’
Jennifer could gain little comfort from this. ‘I see,’ she murmured. ‘In that case, I can only assume that Lord Sloane has some hold over your family…at least, over your mother.’
Serena, wisely, didn’t attempt to deny it. ‘Apparently, he has in his possession certain letters written by my mother to a gentleman she knew years ago. If their contents were ever made known it would bring shame to my family, and total ruin to my poor dear sister.’
Serena didn’t attempt to explain further, but there was absolutely no need for her to do so, for Jennifer was fairly certain she had grasped the all-too-obvious implication. She sighed. ‘Your sister Louisa is not, I assume, your father’s child?’
Appearing as if she carried the cares of the world on her shoulders, Serena gave a distinctly weary shake of her head this time. ‘Because of the family’s opposition, Mama was unable to marry her childhood sweetheart, Francis Deacon. Years later, after she had married Papa, and had given birth to me, she went to London and stayed in my uncle’s house in Berkeley Square. I believe I once mentioned to you that Papa was not one for socialising on any grand scale. He soon tired of the social whirl and left Mama alone in the capital to enjoy the remainder of the Season.’
Serena took a moment to take out her handkerchief and wipe away the evidence of tears. ‘Mama assured me that she didn’t go out of her way to be in the company of Francis Deacon, Jenny, and I believe her. Inevitably, though, their paths did cross, and…’
‘And they had an affair,’ Jennifer finished for her, thinking how achingly familiar it was all beginning to sound.
‘Don’t think badly of her, Jenny. I honestly do not believe she intended to have an affair with this man.’
Smiling wryly, Jennifer rose to her feet, and went across the room to take up her friend’s former position before the bedchamber window. ‘I’m the last person to pass judgement.’
Utterly desolate though she was, Serena found sufficient spirit not to allow this to go unchallenged. ‘There is absolutely no comparison between what my mother did and what happened to you, Jenny. None whatsoever! My mother was our age when her affair took place. She admitted quite openly that she knew precisely what she was doing, and that she and Deacon met secretly on more than one occasion. It is to her credit, I suppose, that she didn’t attempt to condone her behaviour, although I believe she truly thought that she was in love with Francis Deacon at the time.
‘Of course, she swiftly came to realise her mistake,’ Serena divulged after a moment’s silence, ‘and was forced to acknowledge that he was nothing more than the feckless fribble her family had always considered him. After she had returned to Hampshire, she did inform him that she was carrying his child, but he didn’t attempt to respond to any of the letters she wrote him.’
Once again Jennifer was reminded of the heartrending comparison in her own life, but swiftly thrust the painful memory aside. ‘And somehow your mother’s letters came into Lord Sloane’s callous hands?’
‘That isn’t so difficult to understand when one considers that Sloane and Deacon were close friends. Deacon passed away last year, and Mama seems to think that he must have appointed Sloane his executor. We can only speculate on why Deacon chose to keep the letters. It is highly likely, however, that Sloane came upon them when he was going through his friend’s papers, and decided that they might come in useful.’
‘For a spot of blackmailing. Yes, I can see that,’ Jennifer readily agreed, before drawing her brows together in a puzzled frown. ‘Except that the blackmailer’s usual motive is financial gain. And as you’ve mentioned yourself, on more than one occasion, your parents are not so very plump in the pocket, and your dowry is small.’
Much struck by this, Serena frowned. ‘And what is more, I’m hardly the type of female to appeal to a man of Lord Sloane’s stamp.’
‘You underrate yourself, my dear,’ Jennifer countered, conveniently forgetting that that was precisely what she herself had once thought. ‘I know of at
least one man who finds your company most pleasurable.’ The remark brought a highly satisfying return of colour to Serena’s thin cheeks. ‘But you’re right in thinking Sloane’s behaviour most odd. And why, I ask myself, this urgency on his part to secure a bride?’
Again she consulted the mantel clock, and saw that time was pressing. ‘I mustn’t delay your departure further. Your mother will be understandably anxious. My carriage, of course, is at your disposal.’
Reluctantly, Serena went slowly across to the door. ‘You will, I trust, make my farewells to his lordship and—and Mr Dent? I have no wish for you to lie on my account, Jenny. But if you could possibly conceal the truth for as long as possible. Perhaps you might say that I’ve received word that my father is unwell, and so feel I must return to Hampshire.’
‘You may rely upon me, Serena,’ Jennifer assured her, before adding, ‘and I would advise you not to be in too much of a hurry in contacting Lord Sloane and accepting his offer of marriage. Delay for as long as you can.’
If it was possible for someone to appear both hopeful and puzzled at one and the same time, Serena certainly looked it now. ‘Well, I shall of course, if you think—’
‘My dear, I do not know what to think,’ Jennifer interrupted. ‘But I mean to discover, if I can, why Lord Sloane is intent on having you for a wife. You have my word, Serena, that I shall do everything within my power to keep you from marrying that man!’
Later, when Jennifer went downstairs to the dining-room to join the gentlemen for luncheon, and explained the reason for her friend’s absence from the table, reactions to the news were both varied and interesting.
Julian said nothing at all, merely raising his brows whilst subjecting her to a prolonged and searching stare, which left her in no doubt whatsoever that he was not entirely convinced that the explanation offered was the true one. Although Theodore did not comment very much either, merely voicing the hope that Serena would find her father much improved by the time she arrived home, Jennifer gained the distinct impression that he was far more upset by Miss Carstairs leaving than he was revealing. Consequently she was not in the least surprised when, a short time later, he announced his intention of returning to London the following day.
Jennifer was naturally saddened to see him go, but as she stood outside, waving a last farewell before the post-chaise hired for the journey began to move away, she felt sure it would not be too long before she saw the large gentleman again.
During the past twenty-four hours she had been granted ample time to consider how best she could help poor Serena out of her unfortunate predicament, and had come to the conclusion that only by travelling to London herself could she possibly discover what might have prompted Lord Sloane’s surprising proposal of marriage. The more she had considered the matter the more certain she had become that prim, sensible Serena was hardly the kind of female to appeal to the bawdy, lascivious Lord whose tastes, if common reports were to be believed, ran to the more exotic. So what possibly could be the motive in his relentless pursuit of Miss Serena Carstairs?
‘Something appears to be troubling you, my dear,’ Julian remarked, not slow to notice the furrows creasing her white brow, as he accompanied her back into the house.
Jennifer didn’t attempt to deny it. With Theodore’s departure the need for secrecy had gone. ‘I know you are extremely busy this morning, Julian, and wish to catch up with your work now that both our friends have left us, but could you possibly spare me a few minutes of your time before you start wading through that mountain of papers awaiting your attention in the library?’
He didn’t take even a moment to consider the matter, which gave her every reason to suppose that he might be sympathetic. Her hopes were swiftly dashed, however, when he looked coolly across the desk at her, after she had made known her intention of travelling to London that very afternoon, and responded softly,
‘Have you, perhaps, forgotten the bargain we made the day you moved back to Wroxam Park?’
She was nonplussed for a moment, then memory returned. ‘But surely, Julian, you will not hold me to that agreement in these circumstances? I do not wish to travel to the metropolis for pleasure, but to help Serena out of her present predicament.’
‘I’m afraid you will need to explain a little more fully.’ The distinctly sardonic curl to his lips did not precisely boost her confidence. ‘I understood Miss Carstairs returned to Hampshire because of her father’s ill health.’
He was being deliberately provoking; there was not a doubt in her mind about it. ‘Oh, come now, Julian! You knew that wasn’t the truth. Serena asked me to say that because…well, because she didn’t wish her real motive for returning to become common knowledge. But it would seem I have no alternative but to inform you of it now.’
She felt strongly inclined to keep him guessing, but knew that contrariness wouldn’t serve her cause, and promptly relayed all that Serena had revealed.
His lordship betrayed not the smallest hint of sympathy; if anything his look was faintly derisive. ‘Letters, I assume, of a highly delicate and personal nature?’
Jennifer did not attempt to deny it. ‘Yes. Letters written by Lady Carstairs years ago to a certain gentleman of her acquaintance whom she had once hoped to marry, and for whom she had once retained a strong regard.’
‘Very delicately put, my dear,’ he announced, the derision more marked than before. ‘And did their affair bear fruit, by any chance?’
Jennifer was forced silently to concede, as she rose from the chair and went over to the library window, that her husband was nothing if not extremely astute.
‘Yes, Serena’s sister, Louisa,’ she confirmed softly. ‘So you see, Julian, why I must get my hands on those letters.’
‘Without wishing to appear vulgarly curious, how do you propose to do that?’
‘I have money…I shall offer to—’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, girl!’ he cut in sharply, making her start. ‘You may think yourself up to snuff, but you’re no match for a man of Sloane’s stamp! He would demand a small fortune in return for those letters.’ His expression darkened, before his lip curled in a clear display of contempt. ‘And perhaps a great deal more from you besides.’
The implication was perfectly plain, and Jennifer experienced both humiliation and anger in equal measures, before anger became the clear victor. Not once had she ever attempted to deny that she and she alone had been responsible for the failure of their marriage. She had paid dearly for her fall from grace, and the shame she had experienced remained with her even after all this time. She needed no cruelly taunting reminders of that one immoral lapse, especially not from this man whose own behaviour in recent years was certainly not beyond reproach.
‘Might he, indeed?’ she responded, with deceptive mildness, as a desire to hurt him in return swelled like an unstoppable torrent of water.
She moved back across to the desk and, placing her hands on the highly polished wood, leaned forward so that he could not fail to notice the dangerous glint in her eyes.
‘In that case he is doomed to disappointment. Since my return to this country not one gentleman has crossed my path on whom I would gladly bestow my favours…as well you know.’
She had the satisfaction of seeing the contemptuous smirk disappear. The gratification she gained from the knowledge that she had succeeded in piercing that masculine armour was, none the less, short-lived, and she swiftly realised that, like a predatory beast, he was far more dangerous when wounded.
‘Your fastidiousness undoubtedly does you great credit, my dear. Let us hope that you are as exemplary when it comes to pledging your word.’ He learned forward so that his face was only inches away from hers, his eyes glinting every bit as brightly as her own. ‘Leave this house without my consent, and you will never be allowed to return.’
Only by dint of tapping into those strong reserves of self-restraint did Jennifer stop herself from lashing out at him with her fists. That and the knowledge that no
physical attack could ever possibly succeed in hurting him enough to quench her sudden thirst for revenge.
Raising herself up to her full height, she stared down at him, the contempt she was feeling clearly mirrored in her eyes. ‘You are utterly despicable,’ she told him, her voice amazingly steady considering she was inwardly trembling with rage. ‘How right I was to question, to doubt your displays of thoughtful concern and gestures of friendship during these past weeks. You haven’t changed, Wroxam—no, not a whit! You are still the same cold, heartless automaton I married nine years ago.’
With one angry sweep of her hand she sent the pile of papers neatly stacked on the corner of his desk cascading to the floor. ‘But this I swear, as God’s my judge, that one day, no matter how long it takes me, I shall make you suffer the same agonising torment as you are putting me through now by callously denying me the opportunity of at least attempting to help my friend!’
Chapter Twelve
Without granting him the opportunity to utter anything further, Jennifer stormed from the room, too angry to notice that behind the glinting annoyance in his eyes at her childish display of temper, lurked an emotion closer to desolation than satisfaction at having foiled her plans to visit the capital.
Mary, coming upon her young mistress at the head of the stairs, realised at a glance that all was far from well, but knew better than to try to dissuade her mistress from leaving the house. When Miss Jenny was in one of her black moods she was best left alone until her temper had cooled and she had been given time to think things through.
Patrick was of a similar mind when, attired in her elegant bottle-green habit, she appeared in the stable-yard a short while later, demanding that Oriel be saddled at once. He would have much preferred, as he stood at the imposing arched entrance to the stables, following her progress up the long sweep of the drive, to have been granted permission to accompany her. None the less, he consoled himself with the knowledge that, no matter how black Miss Jenny’s mood, her love of horses, and of Oriel in particular, would always ensure that she would never dream of riding in a manner that would put her mount at risk.
