by Jane Lark
It was his fault, all of it. Now he had to make amends.
Jane knelt on the edge of the rug, greeting Ellen, and bent to little Robbie while Ellen introduced her youngest child and John poured Jane’s lemonade.
The baby was lying on his back, watching the leaves rustling on the warm breeze above him, his legs and arms in constant movement as he squealed with ridiculous pleasure at the sight. Jane touched the child’s bare toes, and her expression slipped to melting appreciation.
“He is beautiful,” she said in a whisper.
“Isn’t he?” Edward shouted from a distance away. Robert looked to see Edward walking towards her. He was in his shirtsleeves, too, tossing the ball John had thrown him from one hand to the other. He was bragging indecently, but it amused Robert to see his brother’s pride. Edward’s smile admitted how atrocious his vanity sounded anyway.
“Edward is biased, ignore him,” Ellen interjected.
“Edward is a proud father,” Jane answered, her eyes not lifting from the little boy as she took his tiny hand and his fingers clutched her thumb. “You are gorgeous,” she said at his babyish giggle.
“Your lemonade, Aunt.” She took it from John’s hand and smiled a thank you.
“Did you want some, Uncle?”
“Yes. Please,” Robert answered as Mary-Rose’s possessive grip captured his leg. He picked the little scamp up and swung her high. She squealed.
“Uncle Robert, horsey.”
“Not at this particular moment, sweetheart.” He sat her at his waist.
Her arms circled his neck. “I like to play horsey!”
“But I do not like to have grass stains on my knees before Aunt Jane,” he whispered to her ear. “Play ball with your papa, and we shall have a game of tag later. Will that do?”
She gave him a determined nod and stretched her legs in the familiar gesture which said, let me down.
Watching Mary-Rose run to Edward, Robert caught Jane watching him. She smiled, but there was a glint in her emerald eyes which suggested she was close to tears. She looked away and sipped her lemonade.
Did she want children? She’d had none with the old Duke. She could not have them as his son’s mistress. Had she birthed children and been forced to give them up?
Robert moved to kneel beside her on the rug and accepted a glass from John.
“This is cool and very welcome,” Jane said in comment of the lemonade, looking at Robert again, with eyes that no longer bore tears.
“Yes,” he answered, but as he said it, he tried to tell her in a look that he understood. She smiled and looked away. Heavens, she’d been here little more than an hour, and he felt as though he was fast unravelling at the seams.
“You’ll not play?” Edward called as John returned to their game. Robert turned and found his brother’s gaze observing far too much.
He’d told Ellen and Edward little more than the servants. If Jane wished to tell them anything more, it was up to her. Ellen had not challenged him. He assumed she’d guessed there was more to it, but her sensitivity meant she surmised it was best not to delve. Edward, however, lacked his wife’s diplomacy. He’d asked numerous times. Why had they fallen out? How had they made up? But he’d not registered that Robert and Jane had once shared feelings far deeper than brother and sister. Until now.
Robert watched the knowledge dawn on Edward’s face. Even if Jane’s current affections were for Sutton, there was still that something between them, and the summer air had felt thicker and heavier since her arrival. He had a feeling it was the same for her, and, evidently, the attraction was not invisible to others.
Edward’s smile lifted awkwardly, and he answered himself. “I take it not then.”
Robert drank his lemonade. What Edward thought was his concern. It was what Jane thought that mattered.
And so Robert told his brother later when they were left alone to drink their port.
“You are a sly bastard,” Edward answered in response. “So, when did this little affair of yours begin? You have kept it all cloak and dagger.”
“I have not kept it anything. Nothing is happening. It is no affair, and for God’s sake, do not let Jane know you believe it is. You will have her running a mile to get away from me. ”
Edward’s face puckered. “Then why is she here, Robert? What is going on?”
Leaning back in the chair, looking at Edward, Robert wondered whether to speak or not. He’d never shared the story.
Edward waited.
Robert lifted his glass of port to his lips and looked at Davis, silently sending the servants out.
“Nothing,” he said once they’d gone, before leaning forward and resting one arm on the table. “It is as I told you. She had an accident. She needs some time and somewhere to get over it. I owe her the opportunity. But if you must know, my relationship with Jane was not fraternal while I was at Oxford.”
“What!” Edward’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened.
“See, you do not know all you think you do. We had feelings for each other then. We used to meet in secret.”
“Bloody hell! And I thought you more distant then because you had outgrown our company.”
Robert smiled. He’d let Edward draw false conclusions. “I offered for her, but she was already promised to Sutton.” Robert looked up at the ceiling, angry with himself again for his ill-judged behaviour. He took a breath to fight back the agony of guilt and looked back at his brother. “Anyway, the short of it is, she told me she was already engaged. I charged off in a rage, thinking it was her doing and she’d played me for a fool. She’d been forced into it though … ” Robert’s voice cracked, lost in the pool of emotions roiling inside him.
Edward’s expression was disbelief, then concern. There had been a measure of understanding this afternoon, but now, Robert saw it was all slotting into place in his brother’s head. “She is why you dropped out of Oxford and left for the continent.”
Robert nodded. He did not like to admit it. He’d never told anyone. Yet now it was out it seemed better just to tell the whole. “Father sent me abroad. He loathed my behaviour in London. I did not wish to tell him how much I hurt inside. I did not wish to mar the high opinion he had of Jane. I did his bidding. I still thought her the villain then.”
“Good God,” was all Edward said.
“See, little brother, for all these years, you’ve hated me for deserting father. It was father who banished me.”
“But why not return when he died?” This had been Edward’s bone of contention for years. Robert knew it. Edward had taken on the responsibility of their father’s estate at barely eighteen. He’d never forgiven Robert for not coming back to take it over himself.
“Because, by that point, I could not stand to even be in the same country as her.”
Edward shook his head in astonishment. “Then why not tell me when you came home.”
“Because it was none of your business. I am only telling you now because you have guessed half of it, and I do not want you to run off with the wrong idea in your head.” Fixing a hard stare on his brother, Robert said, “She told me she was forced to accept Sutton when I was in London before we left. That is why I have asked her here. Sutton treated her badly. I’m giving her time and a place to recover. She told me if I’d asked, she would have run away with me before she’d married him. I did not ask. I turned my back, let her down and blamed her. I owe her this. It is nothing more. Do not make it so, or you’ll make her uncomfortable. Heavens, even Ellen has backed off, because she’s realised the girl has suffered enough.”
“Ellen knows?”
“Ellen’s guessed, I think.”
Edward drank from his glass of port then said, “Jane and you. God, you are a dark horse. How? I never noticed. We must have all been blind?”
Robert smiled and shrugged.
“And now? What do you feel for her, now?”
Robert did not answer.
“You love her,” Edward answered for him.
“What does she feel for you?”
Robert shrugged again. “Who knows? I think she feels something, but she has made it clear, on several occasions in London, she does not want me.” He did not say there was someone else, although, suddenly, he longed to share it. He longed to share at least a little of his pain with someone. He’d carried her loss for so many years.
“Is that why you fell out? She said it was her fault.”
The memory of that moment at Vauxhall was suddenly vivid in Robert’s mind. “Yes,” he breathed then added, “but I did not know the truth then.”
Edward drained his glass, set it down, then rose and walked about the table to lay a hand on Robert’s shoulder. It was the most conciliatory gesture they’d shared since Robert’s return from abroad. For the last couple of years, Edward had tolerated Robert, but not liked him. “You can charm her. Make the girl fall back in love with you. After all, is that not your greatest skill?”
Robert laughed and set his hand over Edward’s briefly. “Sadly, it does not seem to work on Jane. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Edward laughed and tapped Robert’s shoulder. “Well, now you have Ellen on your side. Jane had better watch out. She has no idea the power my wife can wield.”
Robert rose. “It is only thanks to Ellen she’s here at all. Your wife had to hint to me that there was more to Jane’s marriage before it occurred to me to ask.”
“At least now I know your affections lie elsewhere. I need not worry about you and Ellen,” Edward concluded in a dry tone.
“You had no need to worry anyway, Ellen adores you.” Robert felt wounded. “She just saw the truth in me years ago, hence why when she spotted Jane, she worked it all out. It is hardly my fault if you are blind while your wife is not. At least a broken heart is something you’ve never had to bear.”
The look he received told Robert that Edward finally understood. Both Robert and Ellen had been cut off once, wounded, and they’d recognised it in each other.
“You’ll win her back,” Edward answered. “Smile,” he charged. “You’d better turn on the charm.”
They entered the drawing room a few moments later, in more accord than they’d been in since childhood, smiling exuberantly and causing both women to look at them a little oddly.
“What have you done to him?” Ellen leaned to Robert to whisper a little later over her hand of cards as they played whist.
“Told the truth,” Robert whispered back.
“Well, it is about time,” Ellen answered a little louder. Robert watched her throw Edward a cajoling smile, and Edward’s eyebrows lifted, blatantly inquiring what they were talking about.
“For what?” he challenged verbally when he received no response.
“For you and Robert to kiss and make up, that is what, Edward Marlow.”
“I can think of nothing worse,” Edward answered, but then he lifted his glass and looked at Robert. “But I shall drink to him, though. A toast, ladies, if you will, to happy endings!”
“To happy endings!” the women echoed. Robert reached for his glass and knocked the rim against Jane’s, his eyes fixed on hers. She was the only one of the four of them who hadn’t a clue what they were toasting. Poor woman, he’d promised her space, but she was about to become the obstacle of a major family onslaught.
She laughed, none the less, and clenched Edward’s hand, then let it go.
Chapter Thirteen
Jane could not remember when she’d felt this happy. First thing in the morning, while the day was cooler, she and Robert would ride out across the estate, just as they had done in their youth, racing across fields and ditches, Robert’s hounds in chase.
His hounds were a new addition to the fold, three of them, pale gray deerhounds. Long-legged and sleek in shape, they could run like the wind, but once they’d had their play, they were as docile a creature as could be found. When they lounged in the drawing room, washed down after their run, Mary-Rose would sit and coddle them. Even on four legs, the dogs were taller than her, but the child loved them, and they seemed to love her, too.
Jane ate luncheon en famille, a homey affair with the children, and afterwards, there was always some game or merriment, cricket, chess, cards, catch, chase, or hide-and-seek. This often had Jane in fits of giggles with Mary-Rose. Jane adored the little girl. They spent hours making daisy chains in the meadow or playing with dolls and sharing imaginary teas.
The evening meal always included John, and Jane understood this was when Edward and Ellen gave their eldest son their full attention. John was at the gateway to adulthood. At times, he reverted back to childish ways, while at others, he thought Mary-Rose’s antics beneath him. But he was good-hearted and Jane enjoyed conversing with him.
But most of all, Jane loved little Robbie. The infant was a jolly, restless, little soul, who did not like being cosseted, yet what he did like was to be carried. They shared many walks about the garden, looking at the flowers, the fountains, and the fish pond. The little boy stole such a place in her heart, she was overawed with a broody longing for her own child, a longing that would never be fulfilled. The need became a physical pain. At times, it was so overwhelming, Jane was certain Ellen must know, but she never spoke of it. Nor did Jane.
She would not have children. All she could do was make the most of others’, and six days into Jane’s stay, Ellen answered Jane’s unvoiced longing. She asked Jane to be Robbie’s godmother. The baptism was planned for two weeks hence, and so, Jane’s time became absorbed in helping Ellen plan the celebration.
It was their current activity.
“I thought perhaps tomorrow morning we could have breakfast served on the ridge when we ride out. Do you fancy it?” Robert was leaning about the door frame of the drawing room, speaking to her in passing as she and Ellen sat at the little desk, with invitations spread about them.
Jane nodded. “It sounds a lovely idea, yes.”
“Then I shall have Mrs. Barclay organise it.” He smiled and lifted his hand in farewell as he left.
“You two are getting along famously,” Ellen commented, a searching note to her voice.
“We always did.” Jane’s eyes lifted to the miniatures on the wall, Robert’s mother and father, him and Edward, and her, the surrogate little daughter of the family. When she’d been sixteen, she’d thought Robert her destiny. And now? Now, she dare not even think of it for fear this island of happiness she’d discovered would disappear. She did not want to do anything which would shatter the illusion she was living in.
“The bruise on your face has healed. Robert never did say what happened … ” It was a tentative question.
Jane smiled. That particular secret was too raw to share. “I feel much better. Thank you.”
Ellen studied her for a moment then smiled with a look of apology before turning her attention back to the list, clearly accepting Jane did not wish to discuss the matter. “Here, you write these. I will start on the menus.”
When Jane took the list, she had a strange sense she saw the future. But it was not an image, it was a feeling – a feeling of despair, as though she mourned this blissful utopia, and if she mourned it, it was gone.
~
The next morning, breathless and exhilarated after their gallop, Jane watched Robert swing down from his saddle. He left his stallion to graze and strode towards her.
She unhooked her leg from the side-saddle, and once she’d done so, he was there.
His hands gripped her waist and lifted her down.
Her awareness of his touch was stronger than ever today, but she resisted the urge to pull him close and kiss him, and instead took a step away.
He smiled, hands falling to his sides, making no comment on her censure.
She turned and walked towards the rug the servants had spread out beneath a beech tree when they had brought the hamper up from the house.
The rug and the hamper had just been left on the ground, together, in a pre-arranged spot, for Robert and Jane to find. The s
ervants had all disappeared again now.
Jane could see down into the valley and across it to the moor.
Robert walked beside her, then knelt on the rug and flipped open the lid of the hamper. “What do we have?”
Hands on hips, Jane watched him, smiling. The annoying sense of impending doom had not left her since yesterday, but she refused to acknowledge it.
He looked up, all boyish charm. “I do declare, Mrs. Barclay has done us proud again. We have a feast, Jane. Fresh rolls, butter, honey, ham, plum cake, cheese in three varieties, and a bit of the cold rabbit pie from yesterday, and to top it off, strawberries and champagne. How decadent shall we be?”
“Very.” She swept the skirt of her habit beneath her as she knelt, too, and peered into the basket of delights.
“What would you like?” he asked.
“I should serve.”
“Nonsense, you’re the guest.”
The guest? Perhaps that was why she sensed something going awry. She’d been so busy playing happy families, she’d forgotten she was only a guest. This was neither her home, nor her family. “Very well, I’ll have plum cake and cheese.”
He smiled and tossed a cushion at her. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you want champagne, Your Grace?”
She laughed, but relaxed, leaning sideways on one hand. “Of course, but if you are playing the gallant, before you serve me, you must kiss my hand.” She presented it to him as she said it, teasing.
A wolfish grin formed on his face, and he gripped her wrist while his other hand tugged off her glove. Then he pressed a warm kiss on the back of her bare hand. “Your servant, Your Grace,” he whispered over it afterwards.
A blush burned her cheeks, and her heart raced, which meant he knew how he affected her, for his thumb was pressed to the point of her pulse in her wrist. He paid no heed to it, or so it appeared, and let her go, then turned back to the basket.
