by Anna Small
“So why would…?” Jane bit off her words. It was apparent Alice was trying to intimidate her. She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I suppose she is still upset, having been widowed recently.” It was a hint Sarah jumped on.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, this house was not in mourning very long.” She glanced uneasily at the door, as if Alice would walk through it at any moment.
“What do you mean?” Even in Weston, widows kept a respectable seclusion for at least half a year, emerging only for church services and quiet occasions.
“She’s had several dinner parties and outings. I even heard her ladyship laugh in conversation with the late earl’s cousin, Lord Felix.”
“I suppose one must laugh from time to time, despite sorrow. Does Colonel—I mean, his lordship, my husband—know of these parties?”
“He was not here for any of them.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s all right,” Jane murmured, but concealed her true opinion. Was it possible Alice’s grief over the death of her husband was not as deep as Frederick thought?
She excused Sarah so she could have a few hours of privacy before Frederick came home. As she sat at her large vanity and used the unfamiliar new toiletries, she glanced at her reflection in the gilt mirror. Who was the girl staring back at her, with the wide, fearful eyes and pale lips? She laid down the heavy brush and leaned her chin on her palms. If the girl in the mirror had any answers, she kept them to herself.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jane hesitated at the top of the staircase. The voices of Alice’s guests floated to her above the music of a string quartet. Her heart thudded dully. Small party, indeed. At least forty lavishly dressed people were assembled in the foyer as they made their way to the ballroom.
Chafing her hands together, she stopped abruptly when she realized what she was doing. If only Frederick were here. She shook the thought away. He had not returned since leaving shortly after they’d arrived. She smoothed her hands down the front of her gown, and her large diamond ring caught on a bit of lace. Sarah had chosen one of the loveliest of the gowns—a dark emerald silk that made her eyes sparkle, and especially flattered her pale skin and dark hair.
Sarah had hinted she’d thought green was Frederick’s favorite color, and as so many of the gowns were in various shades of green, Jane was apt to believe her. She would have preferred to dress in black, as befit a household in mourning, but Sarah had assured her severe mourning was not being observed at Falconbury House.
She wetted her dry lips and inhaled slowly to calm the fluttering in her middle. A cup of punch would be just the thing to help relax her, even though she normally avoided spirits. If only Frederick were here!
Before she allowed a sudden feeling of foreboding to overcome her, she walked down the stairs and entered the ballroom. No one noticed her. She avoided eye contact, staying to the edges of the room. Snippets of conversation reached her, regarding governesses and lap dogs, barouches that needed reupholstering, and the problem with a chambermaid who’d somehow entrapped a younger son. Foreign conversations, of subjects she knew nothing. She sought a kindly face, but everyone was too involved with their own group of friends.
Sighing, she made her way toward the back of the room, where several tables were laid with all kinds of delicacies and sweetmeats. Marzipan figures of animals and fruits adorned magnificent cakes, and she wished her mother could see such a display. She fought off homesickness and reminded herself London was only a stopping point; a temporary evil until Frederick finished his brother’s work, and they could set up housekeeping in the country.
A stifled giggle came from behind her. Jane tried not to show her dismay when Alice appeared, clinging to the arm of a full-figured woman with bright yellow hair.
“Good evening, Jane, dear.” Alice’s voice dripped with over-kindness. Jane’s stomach knotted. She forced herself to meet the older woman’s eyes, while ignoring Alice’s snickering companion. “Why not try some punch?”
“Perhaps later.” Jane walked past the women, but Alice seized her arm.
“What, our punch isn’t good enough for you? Of course, you’re used to simpler things; I forgot. Charlotte…” She turned to her friend, whose round face was red with suppressed amusement. “Did you know the new Countess of Falconbury grew up on a farm? I meant to say, estate. It was an estate, was it not, dear?”
Remembering Frederick’s hope she could befriend Alice, Jane stifled a retort. “I did grow up on a farm. Fortunately, my sisters and I were able to find good husbands in spite of it.”
Alice’s eyes narrowed while her friend tittered behind her fan. “She has you there, Alice! Is not her sister married to Shelbourne of Kent? And the other one married well, too.”
The corner of Alice’s mouth lifted in a flat smile. “I believe Frederick mentioned the very thing to me. How happy your parents must be, Jane, to have all their daughters marry so well. And you have snatched yourself an earl!”
Unsure of where Alice was leading with this train of conversation, Jane gave her a slight curtsy as she prepared to leave them. “I hardly think I snatched Frederick, though you are kind to spend so much time considering my relationship with him. Please excuse me. I must greet my husband’s guests.”
She hated reminding Alice this was now Frederick’s home, but the woman set her teeth on edge. Widow or not, she could not hold her tongue. She wished her sisters were with her. Rosalind had told her she should never feel beneath the members of her new family. Frederick was certainly the last person who would ever make her feel so. She marveled at how Rosalind guessed Jane’s appearance at Falconbury Park would upset Alice.
“Yes, yes, greet your husband’s guests.” When Alice smiled, her little white teeth poked against her lips. “Your husband is, in fact, expected shortly.”
Although hearing this from Alice was the last thing Jane wanted, she couldn’t suppress her relief and excitement. She hurried toward the front of the room and sought refuge in a row of chairs against a wall. A few large potted palms helped obstruct her from the others, while giving her a wide view of the door.
Hardly a minute had passed when a commotion ensued. Jane half rose from her chair, expecting to see Frederick, but sank down when a new guest entered the ballroom in a flurry of pink silk. Her entry invited an onslaught of attention by Alice and her friends, who surrounded her, kissing and embracing her as a long lost friend.
Curious, Jane peeked between the palm fronds. She’d never seen a more beautiful creature. Even Amelia’s beauty paled in comparison. The stranger’s blue eyes and golden hair were an easy complement to her pink gown, and the ermine stole around her shoulders only made the white throat more delicate. Perhaps she was royalty. She certainly embodied everything a princess should be.
“Susanna! What a lovely surprise!” Alice cooed over her, admiring the diamond bracelets on the long, elegant arms. Susanna fluttered around the room like a butterfly as she greeted the guests, all of whom seemed under her spell.
Jane glanced down at her gown. The emerald silk she had admired before now seemed too dowdy, her lace fichu one a grandmother would wear. If only Frederick weren’t expected at any moment, she would run upstairs and change into something else. She gripped the sides of her chair and counted the passing seconds.
She didn’t wait long. A new commotion announced the arrival of another guest, but all Jane focused on was Frederick’s warm, friendly voice. She sagged with relief, forced a smile to her lips, and hoped she would soon feel as happy as she pretended. Once they were alone, it would be different.
He seemed to be looking around for someone. Realizing he wouldn’t see her in the corner, she stepped forward, but he walked past her, heading for the crowd clustered around the magnificent Susanna. Jane wondered if she were the only one who noticed his slight frown.
“Freddie!” Susanna cried with obvious delight.
Jane froze as Frederick stared at the woman, an indecipherable look on his face. Susanna tripped ligh
tly to him and kissed him on both cheeks.
He blinked as if awakening from a dream. “Susanna! I didn’t know you were back from the Continent. I thought you had another month in your precious Italy.”
“I decided I missed London too much. And my friends.” Jane could almost see the invisible bands she was wrapping around Frederick. Susanna…not Susanna Olivier, whom Lucinda Parker had once mentioned as the woman who’d spurned Colonel Blakeney because of his missing hand?
But who wouldn’t spurn the Earl of Falconbury, one-armed or three.
Heart racing, Jane stealthily walked back to her previous hiding spot. Her mouth dried up so it was almost painful to swallow. Susanna hadn’t moved from Frederick, and now the other guests clapped him on the back and exclaimed one, singular phrase,
“Happy birthday, Frederick!”
Oh God.
Jane sagged onto a chair. She hadn’t known. How could she? They’d never discussed anything as mundane as birthdates. She didn’t know much about him at all. His favorite pudding. The name of a childhood pet.
Alice.
She had purposely thrown a splendid party for Frederick, guessing correctly that Jane had no knowledge it was his birthday. Worst of all, she’d invited the woman who’d broken his heart.
Tears welled in her eyes. Her fists clenched so tightly her nails bit into her soft palms. She glanced down at her hands. No gloves. All the other ladies wore long evening gloves. She, the country mouse, had forgotten hers.
She had to get away—to leave the ballroom at once. She rose unsteadily to her feet, blind and deaf to her surroundings, panic rising in her chest.
“You need not have had a party on my account,” he said to Alice.
She was the very picture of concerned sister-in-law. “Your brother would not have wanted us to linger too long in the shadows, Frederick. My poor Henry’s final wishes were that life would go on. For both of us.”
Jane didn’t catch his response, as she was trying to find a way out of the ballroom before anyone noticed her.
“Jane! My dear!” Frederick appeared in front of her. She staggered against him, and he lifted her chin. He looked shocked to see the tears but a discreet swipe of his thumb brushed them away. “I didn’t see you there. Are you ill, my darling?” His voice was low, so only she could hear him.
She remembered to smile. “I’m perfectly well. Happy birthday.”
His mouth twisted. “Thank you. I realize you didn’t know it. Never mind; let’s join the others, and we’ll talk later.”
She grasped his arm as he led her to the group. He hadn’t been able to wipe both her cheeks, so she brushed her hand across her face, ignoring the raised eyebrows and smirks of Alice’s friends.
“Have you met everyone?”
“Not really.” She didn’t want to appear a wallflower, but he seemed to sense her discomfort. After all, hadn’t he once told her he hated large gatherings and preferred quiet company? Yet Alice had seemed so certain Frederick was the shining star of the ton.
“Never mind, then. They are all Alice’s friends, except for Susanna. Just stay by my side. It is my birthday, and I may choose with whom to spend my evening.”
He wanted to raise her spirits. For his sake, she feigned happiness, though she would have given anything to leave the crowded room.
The musicians struck up a gay gavotte. Frederick held her hand and led her to the center of the room.
“I cannot dance without gloves,” she whispered, aware of the snickering behind lace fans and gloved hands.
“I am not wearing any, either. Perhaps we shall start a trend.”
His smile reassured her. She’d never liked the gavotte, as she felt like an ungainly colt chasing after her partner, but it didn’t matter now. She concentrated on her husband…only on him, and was disheartened when he left her side but once, to dance with Susanna, whose smile lit up the room.
Frederick crossed the room with Susanna on his arm. “I’ve forgotten my manners,” he said to Jane. “I presumed the two of you had met, until Susanna informed me you had not. Jane, may I present an old friend of mine, Susanna Olivier? Susanna, this is my wife, Lady Falconbury.”
Susanna embraced her before she could react. “I’ve been dying to meet you, Lady Falconbury.”
Jane’s arms remained stiffly at her sides. Frederick was watching them, and she couldn’t decipher his expression.
“Thank you,” was all she could say. Susanna laughed.
“Freddie, she really is a darling! You told me she was charming, but she is too, too adorable! And so young!” She clicked her tongue against her teeth, which were as perfect as little pearls. “I suppose you are the same age as me, Lady Falconbury. Lady Falconbury! Oh, Freddie, I adore hearing that name! Happy at last!” She turned from Jane to Frederick and back again, chirping like a bird. “I propose we become the best of friends. What say you?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “As you wish, Miss Olivier.”
“Susanna, I insist.” She laid a warm hand on Jane’s arm. “And you are simply Jane. No stuffy titles. Freddie will not hear of it. You must call on me tomorrow in Hyde Park. Freddie, you must encourage her. I’m afraid I’m being too overblown.”
“Nonsense,” he replied. He hadn’t stopped smiling since Susanna began speaking. “Jane would enjoy visiting with you. I’ll be away much of the time, and we’ve only just arrived in town. I don’t want Jane to be bored here at home.”
Jane cringed at the way they chatted like old, comfortable friends. Hardly a scorned man and his lost love. Alice watched them, a smug expression on her face.
“…At one of the clock,” Susanna was saying. “I shall send my barouche.”
“I’m to have tea with Alice and…and Lady Brewster tomorrow.” She wasn’t sure which appointment she would rather keep—an afternoon with the woman her husband had once loved, or tea with Alice, who seemed bent on humiliating her.
“What fun! I will join your group. That way,” Susanna added with a cheerful grin, “you will not be eaten alive by those society wolves!”
Jane nodded mutely, curtsying again when Susanna did. A moment later, Susanna kissed Frederick squarely and loudly on the lips. Jane gaped at her, remaining speechless. Was that the habit in society, to kiss another woman in the presence of one’s new bride?
“Freddie, do excuse me for a moment. I must speak with Lady Carlton about her son’s appalling manners last night at the theatre.” Her blue eyes sparkled, and the gay laugh poured again from her. “And you must make your own excuses and retire straightaway. I know you are just arrived in town and must be exhausted.”
Her wink did not seem snide, but Jane couldn’t help but feel a dull ache of jealousy. The way Susanna spoke so freely to Frederick. How her gloved hand touched his arm repeatedly, lingering on his sleeve for longer than was necessary.
“I quite agree with you. It’s been an exhausting day.” He gave a wry smile. “Anyone passing by might forget this house is still in mourning.”
“It is your birthday,” Susanna made the excuse for Alice. “Even Henry would want his baby brother to enjoy his birthday.” She hugged Jane briefly. “Good night, Jane. I will inform Alice I will join you at Lady Brewster’s tomorrow.”
Frederick bade her good night, and took Jane’s limp hand. “I do hope you two become friends. The coming days will be very busy for both of us, and I fear it will prove difficult for you. I know it will be for me.” She didn’t trust herself to speak and could only nod. “I’ll say good night to everyone and meet you upstairs.” He kissed her forehead. “Wait up for me, my darling. I shan’t be but a moment.”
He made his way through the room toward Susanna, who drifted across the floor, reaching for him with both arms.
Jane’s heart seemed to break in half. She made a dignified exit from the ballroom into the empty hall. When she was certain no one was about, she muffled a sob into her hand and rushed upstairs, seeking protection behind the solid mahogany door of her chamber
.
****
She dismissed Sarah. The copper bath was filled with steaming, fragrant water, but she only wanted to go to bed. She sank onto the vanity chair and stared at her reflection in the gilded mirror.
“Impostor,” she whispered.
She tugged at the pins in her hair, undoing in seconds what it had taken Sarah an hour to prepare. If only Frederick had remained in his lackluster position as a third son. What a marvelous life they’d have shared in a small house, perhaps close to Rosalind or Amelia. Even a cottage in Weston would have been better than this.
She undressed with difficulty and climbed into bed. It was larger than she was used to, and the mattress unfamiliar. The sheets were soft and a warming pan had been slipped between them, but she took no comfort from it.
A quiet knock on the door announced Frederick’s arrival. “Jane?” His voice was hushed, as if he thought she were asleep.
She hastily rubbed her damp cheeks with a corner of the sheet. “Come in.”
He closed the door behind him. “I didn’t wake you, did I, my love? I hadn’t meant to linger. The party was strictly Alice’s idea. I wasn’t aware she knew when my birthday was.”
“How kind of her to have a party for you.”
“Hmm.” He frowned. “I hardly think celebrating my birthday overrides her mourning my brother. Did she mention anything to you about Henry, or how she is handling her grief?”
Jane stopped herself from gaping at his question. “No, she didn’t. I’m sure she misses him.” As I would miss you. The idea of something happening to him was unbearable.
“Well, Susanna cheered her up. She has a warming effect on people.”
She studied him to note any wistfulness or sign of heartbreak. If there was any, he disguised it well. “She’s very beautiful. I think—” Should she mention she’d heard her name before, at Everhill?
