Rescuing Lady Jane

by Lydia Pembroke

  “I love watching minnows,” Jane said, smiling down at the fast-flowing river. Tiny shards of silver flashed beneath the water, darting this way and that.

  “I confess, I have never stopped to watch minnows.”

  “But you are from the Lake District. How can you not have done so?”

  “I have been remiss. That is the only excuse I have.” Alice laughed softly, continuing on down the path.

  Many of the bridges that ordinarily traversed the water had been ruined in the Spring floods, leaving a single rickety crossing that led to the opposite bank. The only other way to get to where they wanted to go was to venture back into town, but the prospect of that did not entice Jane at all. No, there was only one way to go, and they would be brave in their attempt to cross the solitary bridge. Truthfully, it saddened her to know that the bridge by the old mill had also been washed away, for that was where she had shared her tender moment with Elliott. She had not forgotten it and did not think she ever would. Even now, she thought of him every day.

  Clutching tight to one another, the two young women shrieked as they hurried across the unsteady crossing and reached the other side. Jane felt invigorated, her entire being cheered by the very presence of a friend like Alice. It was hard for her to recall a time when she had felt more carefree. I am grateful to you, she thought, though she did not say the words aloud. Shyness overcame her before she could. It was only when the old mill came into view that a flicker of anxiety crept through her veins. She could hear the unmistakeable sound of hammering and sawing, the discordant music of it making its way down the path towards them. It cannot be. As they neared, her fears were realised. A figure emerged from the mill yard, casually dressed in a dust-streaked shirt, loose at the collar, and an unbuttoned waistcoat that complemented his trousers. He smiled and raised a hand in welcome, though his eyes did not leave Jane’s. Nervously, she waved back, a shy smile appearing upon her lips.

  “Lady Waterford, what a rare pleasure to see you out and about,” he said, wiping his hands on a cloth as he leant up against the yard wall. “I trust you are well?”

  “I am, Mr. Bevan,” she replied. It had been so long since she had seen him, yet he had lost none of his charm. Indeed, she could scarcely take her eyes off him. His eyes did not leave hers, either.

  “And who might your friend be?”

  Feeling foolish, she introduced Alice to Elliott. He bent to kiss her glove, leaving Jane with a longing to feel his kiss upon her hand, too. However, the moment passed, and he made no move to place one upon her. She wondered if he was angry with her for the way they had left matters. She had run off so abruptly, without saying much to appease his worries. And then there was her collapse in the doorway of Clackford House. He had been on his way to rescue her when James had swooped in and closed the door upon him. How could she blame Elliott for being distant, after all of that?

  “… anyway, I am sad to say that the deliveries stopped, but we always wave to one another and have a pleasant word or two, don’t we, Lady Waterford?”

  She blinked in surprise, as she realised that he was talking to her. “We do, Mr. Bevan, and I am sorry for the lack of treats. My husband thought it a waste of the kitchen’s time.”

  It was a blatant lie, and both of them knew it. Still, she hoped he could forgive her for the ruse, for the sake of saving face.

  “Always a miser, that husband of yours. Lower Nettlefold has always been a gloomy sort of town, but it got a great deal gloomier when Lord Waterford arrived. Although, I confess, you brought a much-needed ray of sunshine to combat his perpetual dark cloud.”

  His tone was tinged with a curious bitterness that made her want to enfold herself in his embrace. His anger was not aimed at her, but at James.

  “I was furious with him for preventing the cook from making those cakes,” Jane said quietly, her voice laced with apology. She hoped he could understand the true meaning in her words. “Walking to the old church every other day to bring those delicious desserts was my greatest joy for a time.”

  “And mine, Lady Waterford.”

  Elliott’s voice was thick with feeling.

  They spoke for a while about his renovation of the old mill, though both of them were skirting around their true emotions. A great deal had passed between them, and there was so much that Jane wanted to say. Regardless, she could not speak a single word of what she longed to reveal to him, for it seemed fruitless now. Nothing had changed. She remained married to James, and though he had betrayed her, she would not break her vows and risk ruination, not with the child that grew inside her. However, as he mentioned the cakes she had once brought to him, an idea sparked in her mind.

  “Perhaps, I might send cakes again, though maybe not as frequently as before? Every Friday, if such a thing would be pleasurable to you?”

  “Every Friday would be perfection,” he replied, with a smile that made her insides melt. With Alice offering the prospect of a chaperone, she realised they might be able to see one another again. It would be much easier, now that she had someone to come with her.

  James could not deny her, not with Alice providing supervision.

  “And where are you headed on this fine autumn day?” Elliot asked, with a cheerful grin.

  “The herbalist,” Jane replied.

  His face darkened. “Is there something amiss with the child? Are you unwell?”

  She froze, realising that he knew about the child. Evidently, the news had spread throughout the village, though he did not seem cross about it. Indeed, it took a moment or two before she was able to speak again.

  “No, there is nothing the matter, Mr. Bevan, I assure you. Alice simply insisted that I seek some assistance. You see, I did not feel quite myself this morning.”

  “Are you certain? Lord Waterford has not harmed you?” A warning lingered on his tongue.

  “Of course not, And the fresh air and the walk has already done me the world of good.”

  “Has he done this?” Elliot reached out tentatively and touched a faint bruise on Jane’s wrist.

  “An accident, that is all.” They both knew it was a lie.

  Elliot flashed Alice a look. “You will ensure she sees this herbalist?”

  “I will,” Alice assured.

  “And that she continues to be well, for both herself and the child?” His concern made Jane melancholy.

  Deep down, part of her wished the child was his.

  “I will,” Alice repeated.

  Elliott seemed satisfied, the two of them discussing Jane’s welfare a little more in a familiar manner that prompted Jane to interject. She did not feel comfortable with the level of friendliness between Alice and Elliott, though she knew she had no right to feel envy.

  With a smile, he turned back to her, instigating a farewell.

  “I shall await your visits with great anticipation, Lady Waterford.”

  “Excellent, then Friday it shall be,” she replied.

  With that, they set off towards the herbalist. Jane did not know how she felt, as they walked along the outer path and into town. In some ways, she had been greatly cheered by the meeting. In others, she had been left feeling more confused. Perhaps, she thought, he might be better off with a pleasant young lady like Alice. Indeed, they had been somewhat friendly towards one another.

  “Shall I matchmake you?” Jane asked quietly. “The two of you seemed to get on with one another rather well, and you could do far worse than Mr. Bevan. He is a remarkable man with a supremely kind soul. He would make any woman happy, I imagine.”

  Alice chuckled. “I would not take him from your dreams, my dear friend.”

  Jane blushed, wondering what had given her away. “I confess, I do not know what you mean.”

  “I believe you do, My Lady, though your secret is safe with me,” Alice assured. Jane fell quiet. Her silly secret was clearly transparent to Alice.

  “Besides, I am not interested in romantic liaisons with anyone, least of all Mr. Bevan. He adores you, an
d I believe his affections to be unshakeable. I saw the way you were with one another for a mere ten minutes, and I was convinced of the mutuality in your feelings. He shall marry, as all men do, but it will not matter a jot. Regardless of who he may end up wedding, I am certain that he will always pine for you.”

  Jane sighed, the knowledge bittersweet. “Do you think that could be true?”

  “I do believe your stars are crossed, my dear. I only wish I could uncross them for you.”

  “Now, wouldn’t that be a fine thing?”

  “It would, My Lady, it truly would.”

  She thought of nothing but him as they arrived at the herbalist. Indeed, he was all she could think about throughout the rest of the afternoon, as she returned to the house and took to her bedchamber. Curling up beneath the covers, after several drops of a new tincture, she fell into a deep slumber. He appeared as soon as she closed her eyes, welcoming her into the candlelit church with a warm smile and a loving embrace. He picked her up in his strong arms and carried her inside, laying her down on the pile of furs as he gazed deep into her eyes.

  “You came back,” he whispered.

  “I always will,” she murmured, as his lips grazed hers.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jane glanced anxiously at the house as she slipped from the garden door and set off along the muddy riverbank. It was almost noon, and Elliott would be waiting for her. They had arranged to take lunch at the restored church, where their romance had begun. The parson would be away from the church, giving the pair a sliver of privacy.

  Drawing her collar closer to her cheeks, she hurried faster. There were too many windows at Clackford House, and she knew anyone might be watching her. James was away on business again, procuring some kind of documentation from Reading, but there was always a chance that the staff might betray her. The only people she trusted in that place were Alice and Mrs. Carson.

  With Alice continuing her duties at Clackford House, Jane had found herself with more and more excuses to go to visit Elliott. James did not seem to question it when she went out of doors with the governess. Jane presumed it was a relief to him, to see her in better health.

  His thoughts were of the child, not of her. He had proven as much in resuming the brutality of his evening visits. Alice had stepped in where she could, and sought to defend Jane, but there was only so much she could do.

  He was angrier than he had been in a long time, and she presumed that his endeavours with the Dunsmore inheritance had something to do with his ire. James sought some kind of higher title for himself, or so it seemed. Indeed, he had been quite taken aback upon Alice’s arrival at the house, for she apparently looked remarkably like the Countess who had died in that terrible fire — the one which had razed much of the manor house to the ground. Frederick Parch had thought so, too. The young lawyer’s clerk had taken quite the fancy to Alice, and Jane enjoyed watching their awkward romance blossom. In truth, she envied the simplicity of it.

  As she reached the gate that led through to the church, she rested a tentative hand on the cold metal. She had not met with Elliott alone in a very long time, and a sudden wave of nerves hit her. The woodland that surrounded the church, defending it from the outside world, felt as though it were filled with prying eyes and eavesdroppers. Frightened, she turned and looked over her shoulder, and wondered if she ought to run back to Clackford House. There was still time.

  A figure stepped out of the shadows beside the church. Elliott walked towards her with a smile upon his face, and a nervous glimmer in his eyes. He held a small cluster of winter wildflowers in his hands. In that moment, she realized that she could not have walked away from him. It was impossible.

  “I did not know if you would come, Lady Waterford,” he said anxiously.

  “I could not have stayed away,” she replied.

  “I have prepared a small lunch for us, behind the church.”

  He gestured to the beautiful stone building that had been lovingly restored with his own fair hands. It seemed like madness, to think that this had once been a dilapidated mass of broken stone and a caved-in roof. Elliott had given it, and her, a new lease of life.

  She took his hand and allowed him to guide her around the far side of the church, out of sight of the path. Very wise indeed. This way, they could enjoy their meal in peace, without worrying that someone might happen upon them. Indeed, by the time they were settled upon a woollen blanket in the protective shade of the church wall, the liaison had almost ceased to feel furtive. He had brought cheese and bread for them to eat, washed down with a bottle of fresh, pressed apple juice from the last of autumn’s harvest. As they ate, they talked, their laughter spilling out into the woodland beyond.

  “How are you feeling these days, Lady Waterford?” Elliot asked, as he glanced at her somewhat rounded stomach.

  “The herbalist has been most helpful, and I am taking a tincture to keep me in good spirits.”

  “I am glad to hear it. I have thought about you often, if you do not mind my saying so. Indeed, I have been quite worried for your welfare,” he admitted. “More than once, I have almost knocked upon the door to Clackford House, but providence has prevented me. I can never tell if your husband might be at home, and I do not wish to bring scandal upon you. That is the last thing I should want for you… despite my own selfish thoughts.”

  She looked at him steadily.

  “Selfish thoughts, Mr. Bevan?”

  “That you deserve better than the brute you are married to,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “That… well, that I might be a better man than Lord Waterford. That I might treat you with more respect and love than he does. That I might cherish you as my own. I wish that you and I had met under different circumstances, in which you were not married, and I was more suitable for your station in life. These are my selfish thoughts, Lady Waterford.”

  He dropped his gaze.

  “Then my own thoughts must be selfish,” she confessed.

  Jane felt herself falling deeper in love with Elliott with every meeting they shared. Even when they met with Alice there, it was as if she was not. Time slowed when they spoke, and she savoured every moment. He had become the one bright star in an otherwise black, endless night. Him, and the baby growing inside her. The child could not help its parentage, but that did not mean she would love it any less. Indeed, she had vowed to show it every scrap of kindness and affection within her, so it might not turn out the same way as its cruel father.

  The only trouble was, her being here jeopardised that dream. If James discovered her with Elliott, his suspicions would return. She would lose everything.

  How can a heart feel so torn?

  “Why are you sad?” He reached out and took her hand tentatively.

  “I wish things were different, that is all.”

  “You must not be sad. You will soon be a mother, and that must be the greatest gift that can be bestowed upon anyone. If the child is anything like you, it will be of the purest heart. And it will be loved… so very loved.”

  His eyes shone as if he were envisioning an alternate future. She shared in the fantasy.

  If she let the world fall away, leaving only the two of them there, on the picnic blanket, she could almost fool herself into believing that it was reality. That she and Elliott were wed, and that the child was his. And yet, just beyond that bubble, the truth remained.

  She was bound to James Felling for the rest of her life.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Jane awoke with a start, to find a strange hush had fallen over the house. James was not beside her, though that was not so bizarre. He often stayed away, after being prevented from hurting her by a late-night intervention from Frederick or Alice.

  Still, an unsettled feeling moved through her. One she could not shake.

  Emerging from the covers to the cold of the bedchamber, she crossed the floor and peered out into the hallway. Not a mouse stirred. Again, that was not unusual, but something felt very wrong. With a grip of t
error in her chest, she moved through the silent, dark house and stopped outside her husband’s bedchamber. She knocked first, before entering.

  His bed was empty, the covers unruffled. He had not slept here.

  A sudden impulse urged her to head up to the next floor and pause outside Alice’s bedchamber. She paused uncertainly, before knocking. Nobody answered. Terrified that something awful had happened to her friend, she opened the door and looked inside. The covers were thrown back, as if she’d left in a hurry.

  What has happened here?

  Frederick had gone away for several days on a personal errand, the purpose of which she did not know, but she still checked his bedchamber. Again, it lay empty. The main residents of this house were nowhere to be found.

  Taking a blanket from Frederick’s room, she drew it around her shoulders and hurried down to the ground floor. There, she took herself into the drawing room and lit a candle. She would wait until someone — anyone — returned.

  It was going to be a very long night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elliott sat bolt upright to the sound of someone knocking loudly on the front door of his house. A faint dawn light glanced in through the windows, but it could not yet have been six. Wrapping a robe around himself, he sprinted down the stairs and opened the door to find two strangers standing there. In the darkness, they looked menacing — like two shadows who meant him harm. His hands instinctively balled into fists.