by Sarah Thorn
''You mean steal it?'' Jane was shocked.
''No secretly borrow and then put it back.''
''But the Duke's mother, as you said, is old. I'm sure any dress of hers won't fit me.''
''But she hasn't always been old. The Aristocracy never throw their clothes out. I wager she still has dresses from when she was your age.''
''And what kind of shape is she?''
''I don't know,'' Charlotte answered, wincing at the chink in her strategy. ''We could make some alterations if it doesn't fit.''
''No, Charlotte, it isn't right. No.''
Two days later when Jane arrived at the farm, George took Jane by the arm and took her to a dark corner of the stable. ''I've got this for you.'' He handed her a package. ''The wife risked her job to do this for you, but we want you to be happy Jane. You deserve it.'' Jane knew what it was and shook her head in disbelief.
''George, what your wife has done is very dangerous. I would never forgive myself if she were to get into trouble.''
He looked at Jane and lowered his voice further. ''She told me the Dowager Duchess has more than a hundred gowns. She is bed ridden and in no way will she ever know. My wife will slip it back into her wardrobe when you've finished with it.''
''But what about the Duke, perhaps he will recognize the dress as his mothers?''
''It's a dress she had worn before he was born. How could he possibly know? Most men have no idea what's in their wife's wardrobe, let alone what's in their mothers. There's a pair of shoes in the parcel as well.''
Jane looked at his kind face and smiled. Accept, she told herself. He is one of the few people in the area that like you. ''Thank you so much, George. And please tell you wife, how much I appreciate the risk she has taken.''
''Let me see, let me see,'' Charlotte could hardly contain her excitement when she saw Jane that evening. She walked to Jane's out of pure curiosity.
''But I haven't opened the parcel yet,'' Jane complained as she closed the front door. ''I've been looking after mother. Mrs. Johnson said she's had a terrible day with her.''
''Perhaps it's time,'' Charlotte said. ''You can't go on like this. That bruise on your neck is only just going to go in time for the ball.''
''But I can't bear to see her go,'' Jane said twisting her face.
''I know,'' Charlotte took her hand.
''I want to keep her with me for as long as possible.''
''Show me the dress,'' Charlotte said, changing the subject.
Jane took the parcel and cut the string that bound the brown paper to it. Gently, she turned it over a few times until the paper fell open. Charlotte gasped. ''Oh it's wonderful. Jane, look at it.'' Jane's mouth fell open.
''But I can't wear that,'' she said.
''Why?''
''It's far too grand.''
''Jane, now I'm going to be angry with you. Don't you know how grand you are? Look at what you do. How you care for your mother. How hard you work. You are a wonderful person. I won't hear any more negativity from you. Now pick it up and try it on.''
Jane smiled at Charlotte's outburst. ''Thank you,'' she said, kissing her on the cheek. ''Alright, just get on with it,'' her friend said impatiently.
Jane undressed in front of the fire in the kitchen. She wasn't embarrassed, she knew her figure was good, she had no areas she needed to hide. When she stood naked, the firelight danced over her curves, accentuating her shapely breasts and the length of her shapely legs. Charlotte stared at her, unable to divert her eyes. It was the most erotic moment of Charlotte's young. Jane picked the dress up carefully and held it against her body. She stepped into it and pulled the sleeves over her slender shoulders.
''Fasten it for me,'' she said.
Charlotte's mouth was wide open. The silk dress clung to Jane's figure perfectly. It was deep red in color, with bands of gold braid running vertically over the length of it. The neckline was low enough to accentuate Jane's femininity, yet preserve her modesty, and the back was cut in a half circle, covering her shoulder blades but showing the magnificent way her neck flowed into her the arch of her shoulders. Around the waist, there was a gold ribbon which when tied at the back showed off Jane's tiny waist. George's wife had even gone to the trouble of including a gold shawl and a matching headband. Charlotte fastened the back, walked around her and almost passed out at the beauty of it all.
''Oh, Jane,'' she was weeping. ''You look.....'' she couldn't find the right vocabulary.
''Does it need alteration?''
Charlotte shook her head. ''How extraordinary that you and the Duchess are exactly the same size.”
''Lucky, I'd call it.''
''Shoes,'' Charlotte said.
Jane picked them up and looked at them. A pair of magnificent gold slippers, soft to the touch with flat soles and a maroon ribbon. She bent down and put them on. ''A little big,'' she concluded.
''Never mind. At least, the dress fits and we can pack your shoes with wool. How exciting,'' Charlotte said, wishing she could go to the ball as well.
*****
Jane had wondered how she would be transported to the ball, but the same old man that had delivered the invitation came to the farm and told her the Duke would send a carriage for her at seven in the evening.
Mrs. Johnson stood before Jane and openly cried when she saw her. ''Oh Jane, you look so.....'' She, like Charlotte was unable to find the correct words.
''Thank you. You are so kind. Without you, I don't know what I would do.''
They stood and looked out of the window, waiting for the carriage to arrive. Mrs. Johnson was as nervous as Jane. ''Is everything closed at the back,?''Jane asked. Mrs. Johnson inspected her and nodded.
''Heavens above us.'' Mrs. Johnson exclaimed when she saw four white horses appear from the bend in the road. ''Look,'' she said pointing.
Jane's expert eye knew them to be Andalusian horses. They were pulling a gold coach. It looked as thought it was made of solid gold, but it was in fact gilded. The roof was adorned with tritons and cherubs. At the rear of the coach were two gold angels with splendid wings and at the front two statues of powerful Greek males. Jane went outside and was greeted by a footman who took her hand and led her to the door which was being held open by another footman. She climbed inside and sat down in the velvet and satin interior. The footman closed the door, and the coach jolted as they set off. Jane felt like a queen for the first time in her life. She was tempted to wave to the stunned onlookers, but modesty prevailed.
Two footmen stood on the back of the coach, and one coachman rode on the first horse on the left. They left the village and turned left. Jane understood from George that Fairfax Hall was five miles away. He'd told her to expect it to take an hour. In fact, it took forty-five minutes.
When they turned between two lodge houses, Jane knew they were entering the estate. It was close to eight in the evening, and the sun was setting. On both sides, she saw green parkland dotted with chestnut trees and grazing sheep. She was anxious to see the Hall and keep a close watch out. After an age, they rounded a corner, and she gasped. Ahead of them was a huge house, with what seemed like a thousand windows, each lit by candles. It was built of red brick with sandstone lintels around the windows. There were more chimneys than Jane could count in a short space of time.
Despite a line of carriages waiting to offload their inhabitants at the ballroom, Jane's coach didn't wait. She felt very special indeed as everyone watched her pass them and head to the front of the line. They pulled up under a stone canopy at the far end of the house. A footman opened the door and when Jane looked out she saw a tall and very handsome man coming down the stone staircase to greet her. He was dressed in military uniform. A red tunic and white trousers with the most highly polished boots Jane had ever seen. On each shoulder, he had gold braid and on his chest a row of medals from recent military campaigns.
''I am the Duke of Longford. It is an honor to meet you Miss Glossop.'' He held out his hand, and Jane took it. She was careful when
she left the coach; she didn't want to stumble and make a fool of herself in front of the crowd that had gathered to see her. When she reached the ground, she looked at the man, who for some reason, had invited her to the ball.
A small group of people burst into applause when they saw how beautiful the Duke's lady was. He looked disapprovingly at them, and they stopped. He had a small scar on his left cheek. It was the first thing Jane noticed about him. Far from being distracting, it added to the mystery of him. His eyes were deep blue, and she thought she saw kindness in them, but they seemed to be distant, in a far away place.
''Thank you for inviting me,'' she said as they walked up the stairs towards the huge glazed door that led into the ballrooms entrance hall. He was a head taller than Jane and walking next to him she could feel the power he emitted. It was inexplicable, but she knew instantly that he was a man with tremendous strength of character. He was the same kind of man as George, only richer. Reliable, honest and trustworthy.
For his part, he was bowled over by her beauty. Never had he seen such raw elegance in a woman. The way her body moved as she walked gave him ideas of a sexual nature that he hadn't had before. He was surprised by the images flashing across his mind and mildly chastised himself.
''You will sit next to me in the ballroom,'' he said as they crossed the black and white tiled entrance. To the right there was a garderobe, and in front of them another huge glazed door at which an announcer stood.
''Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen, the Duke of Longford and Miss Jane Glossop,'' he shouted. Jane felt hundreds of eyes on her, and she became very self-conscious. She was just a farm laborer, not a society lady. She wasn't of the upper class and nowhere near as beautiful as most of the glamorous women staring at her.
The Duke leaned to her and whispered. ''I know this is a big occasion for you. But you must remember that you are worth a thousand of anyone of the ladies here this evening.''
Jane looked at him in disbelief. He'd said exactly the right thing, at exactly the right time. He'd made her feel important and special. But why did he say it? What possible reason could he have for telling her she was worth more than any other woman? He didn't even know her. Why did he want her to be at the ball and why was he treating her so well?
''Please, sit down here,'' he said, pointing to a throne-like chair on a raised platform against the long wall of the ballroom. He sat next to her and for a moment they looked out over the guests as some of them danced and others stood and conversed.
''Why did you invite me here this evening? You don't even know me, and I certainly have no idea who you are.'' She looked over the dancers to the orchestra on the stage against the opposite wall.
''That is where you are mistaken. I know perfectly well who you are, and I know enough about you to realize that you are a lady I wish to know better.''
''How, my Lord? How do you know me?''
''Later. I would like to enjoy the evening. We will dance, drink a little and talk.''
''But you know that I am just one of your farm hands and that any association you seek with me will render you the talk of society.''
He glanced at her without smiling, and she wanted to retract what she had just said when she saw his face. He didn't care what others thought; she could it written all over his expression. He knew what people would think, but he was his own man. ''Miss Jane, if you think I have given that any thought at all, you are mistaken.''
''Yes, I can see that now,'' she said bowing her head in deference. She closed her eyes for a second trying to drive away the image that was forming in her mind. The image of him holding her in his arms, crushing her to him and kissing her passionately.
After a while, they danced. Everyone watched to see how Jane performed, many of them waiting for her to fall short of what society expected. But she impressed the Duke. Her mother had taught her the most important dances when she was young, and she'd gone over them again with Charlotte a few evenings previously. Jane watched him as he circled her. His eyes never left her, and she realized for the first time that she wanted him. She wanted more than a kiss; she wanted him to put out the fire raging deep inside her.
''Please tell me how you know me and why you invited me here this evening,'' she pleaded when the sat down again.
''I saw you one evening, in the village. And I thought you were very beautiful. More beautiful than any other woman I have ever set eyes on.''
''Thank you, you are very kind. But my Lord, I am not of your class.'' She looked at his Roman nose, and his angular jaw, and she wanted to trace a finger along the scar on his cheek. He gave her the same look as before.
''You are mistaken Jane. You are of the same class as I am. You just don't know it.''
Jane thought for a moment, suddenly frustrated, even a little angry. He hinted at things she had no idea about, and he wanted her to be honest and tell her what he knew. ''My Lord, I must say you frustrate me.'' He looked at her, this time, she could see he did care. ''You invite me here, make me feel terribly special, dance with me, yet tell me nothing. I feel you are keeping me in the dark. None of it makes any sense.''
''I fear if I tell you, you will think badly of me.'' She was flattered that he cared what she thought but didn't care what others thought.
''Tell me, please.''
He wanted to take her in his arms, carry her to his chamber and strip her naked. He was beginning to get an erection at a very inconvenient moment. He hadn't realized when he'd invited her to the ball that he would fall in love with her. He only wanted to right a wrong. A wrong that had wracked him with guilt. Now he was fearful. Fearful when he told her, that she would think badly of him and leave.
''I invited you here this evening to right a wrong.''
''What?'' The alarm in her voice already confirming his worst fears.
''Your late father was wronged by my family in the most terrible way, and I wanted to make it up to you. I would like you to marry me.''
Jane's jaw dropped. What was he saying? Was he using her to alleviate his own guilt? ''Marry me? But you hardly know me.''
''You will marry me and the wrong the Longford family has done you, will be righted.''
''What are you talking about? Do You want to marry me because you feel guilty? I have never heard such nonsense. Marriage, my lord, should be created out of love, not guilt.''
He felt trapped. Now he was in love with her. He hadn't expected to be, and he knew he'd made a significant mistake. He should have courted her gently, piece by piece as if reeling in a fish on a thin line without telling her anything about how her father been wronged. It would have been enough for him to know, she needn't have ever realized.
''Whatever wrong your family did to my late father cannot be corrected by an offer of marriage. That is a shallow thought. I would like to go home now, please.''
The Duke lowered his head.
*****
Dr. Brown knocked on the door. Jane was at home; it was her day off.
''Jane, how is your mother?'' He looked at Jane's face and immediately knew the answer. She had a black eye and a bruise around her neck again.''
''She can't help it,'' she said. ''And she doesn't mean it. It's the rotten illness.''
''Yes, of course.'' Dr. Brown patted her arm. ''Let's go to the kitchen for a moment,'' he suggested. Jane set about making tea, and he sat in one of the Windsor chairs. ''Jane you must be strong, but the time has come when your mother has become a danger to you.''
Jane's eyes filled up, and her lips began to tremble., ''Perhaps a few more weeks?''
''No Jane. I cannot allow it. I am worried about your welfare. I will ask them to come tomorrow from the sanitarium. Pack some of your mother's things. She'll need nightwear.''
''But it's so harsh in those places. There will be a lot of violent people around her. I'm afraid for her.''
''It is not an ideal place, I will give you that. But it is the only place we have, and she can't stay here. Jane, she could kill you, do you know that?''
''Of course, it isn't. In a way, it's worse than if she had died.'' Jane nodded in agreement.
That evening Jane went up to the bedroom that her parents had used. She opened a wardrobe and took out some night dresses. She went to the chest of drawers and opened a draw that she believed contained towels. She took out three thick towels and put them on the bed, next to the night dresses. She was about to close the drawer when she noticed a cardboard box. She picked it up and saw that it was stuffed with letters. She sat on the bed and looked at the first of them. They were letters her father had sent to her mother. She found out that he'd been an officer in the Royal Artillery and that he'd fought in the French Wars in the early part of the century.
''My love, I hope this letter finds you well. I love you more than I can say, and I thank God that every day that passes is a day closer to being reunited with you.''
Jane felt a lump developing in her throat. Reading about her father was emotional enough, but reading of his love for her mother, at the very moment she was to go into a mental hospital was heartbreaking.
She read some more letters, all of them love letters, with very little news. She found out, however, that her father was on the front line, about to go into battle. There were three letters left in the bottom of the box. They seemed to have been read more than the others. She took the first of them from its envelope.
My love. Please be assured how much you mean to me. Without you my life means nothing.
Usually, I try to protect you from the woes of battle for fear of alarming you. However, I feel it necessary to tell you about what happened today. As you know, I am fighting alongside my good friend the Duke of Longford. We had a terrible time today. Many of our men were killed. It was the most frightening day of my life. Poor John has seen more than he is capable of standing and today he ran from the battlefield in fear of his life. I understand fully why he did so. He was scared, as we all were. Unfortunately, he was captured by our side and accused of desertion, a crime for which men are usually executed.
