He nodded: so the mother had evidently sprung from a family either wealthier or of better social position than the father’s.
“But could you not have appealed to them in the circumstances? It would have been possible to find out who they were.”
Her head went up.
“I do not appeal for charity, sir.”
“To support a female of one’s own house is not charity,” he protested, “but a simple duty.”
“I am persuaded that it is a duty for which my relatives would have had no inclination — nor would I, indeed. Why, they had never even bothered to condole with Papa on his loss, although he informed them of my mother’s death. He told me so once, with bitterness that was unusual in him, generous-spirited as he always was!”
He regarded her flushed cheeks, and saw that it was best not to pursue this subject.
“I see. And so for five years you have supported yourself, Miss Spencer. How do you find it, being a governess?”
She gave a little grimace. “Oh, it is well enough. It provides me with a roof over my head and a modest income. But I could sometimes wish that my charges were not quite so high-spirited!”
“They would be,” he said grimly. “Spoilt brats, I dare say.”
“Well, I must confess —” she began, then broke off, and laughed. “Most likely I was just as bad myself at that age!” she finished.
“I do not think so.”
She coloured a little, but spoke lightly. “Do not be deceived by my present manner, sir. No doubt I am much changed since those days.”
“I think you are,” he said, leaning towards her. “Why do you wear your hair so?”
The abruptness of the question took her by surprise, and for a moment she could say nothing in reply.
“Forgive me,” he said, quickly. “I become impertinent again.”
“No,” she protested. “It is just that — it has been so long since there was anyone to take the kind of interest in me that would prompt such a remark — but you must not think that I resent it. I will try to explain to you how it was.”
She leaned back in her corner to steady herself from the jolting of the coach, which was particularly violent at that moment.
“I was not quite eighteen when my father died,” she said. “My lawyer brought me the news — the gentleman whom we are to see today. He explained my financial position to me, and it became obvious that I must find some way of improving it. There seemed only one thing to be done; to obtain a post as governess or companion in some genteel family.”
He nodded. What else was a gentlewoman fitted for? Yet he felt his indignation rising at the thought of this girl with the bright hair and soft voice being reduced to such shifts at a time of life when most young ladies were about to embark upon a whirl of gaiety.
“I inserted an advertisement in one of the journals,” went on Jane.
“Oh, yes, I’ve seen such advertisements,” he cut in, laughing. “Did you say that it was your delight to improve young minds? They usually run something on those lines, if my recollection serves me.”
“Not precisely.” She smiled at him, revealing small, even teeth. “I doubt my ability to improve anyone’s mind. At any rate, I had two replies, and arranged an interview with the writer of the first. This appointment I attended in all the glory of a new bonnet, with my hair dressed in its accustomed style.”
“Ringlets?”
She nodded. “Yes. They were then worn slightly longer than is the fashionable look today. But I soon discovered my mistake; of course, I looked by far too young like that. The lady decided that I would not suit.”
“I see,” he said, leaning forward and resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he studied her face. “So you decided to get rid of your curls?”
“Yes. I found that if I braided my hair like this, I could add two or three years to my apparent age. I also took care not to appear too smart at the second interview. I even borrowed cook’s second-best bonnet for the occasion!”
He threw back his head in laughter, a gesture that put her once more in mind of her father. They were not really alike, of course; strange, though, how the few similarities between them should fasten on her attention.
“And did you succeed that time?”
“I did. The lady said that she thought I was a trifle young for the post, but that I had the look of a sensible young woman: and she thought I ought to be able to manage her dearest Dorinda, who, although just a little high-spirited, was of course, the sweetest girl in the world.”
“And was she?”
“We-ell.” Jane pursed her lips consideringly. “I must say that the high spirits were more in evidence than the sweetness. But we did well enough together until the time came for her to go to school.”
“So that is why your hair is so severely drawn off your face,” he said slowly, his glance resting on her small-featured face with a judicial look in his eyes. “I should like to see it —”
He broke off, and was silent. She raised an enquiring eyebrow.
“Nothing,” he said hastily, avoiding her eyes.
At that moment, one of the coach wheels found a rut in the road; the vehicle lurched violently, throwing Jane forward from her seat. The man put out his arms to steady her, and for a brief moment she was clasped close to him. His eyes lingered on the soft lips so tantalisingly near to his, on the fine grey eyes, which suddenly held an expression of — what? Confusion?
Suddenly, a wild longing came over him to tighten his hold on her yielding body, to loosen the warm hair so that it would fall about her face, to press his lips to hers. The strength of his impulse amazed and disconcerted him. With an effort, he choked back the words of endearment that came unbidden to his lips, and placed Jane gently back on the seat, his face tense, his eyes studiously turned from hers.
Chapter V. Discovery Of A Letter
FOR A long time afterwards, they sat in silence, each busy with thoughts that could not be shared. Jane came to herself first, exclaiming because they were about to enter the City. On arriving at London Bridge, they encountered a stream of vehicles; heavy brewers’ drays, carts up from the country laden with hay or vegetables, post-chaises and an occasional fashionable town coach.
Every time Jane visited London, she was struck afresh by its bustle and vitality. Now she watched with eager eyes all the varied surging activity around her. The porters were swinging along with baskets atop their heads, mingling with workmen in leather jackets and aprons and grave clerks busy on errands. Each jostled the other good-humouredly in a headlong rush to reach his particular destination in the shortest possible time. Scattered among these hurrying people were the more leisurely pedestrians — the sellers of milk carried in pails attached to a yoke over their shoulders, the vendors of hot rolls with their bells ringing incessantly, the flower women with their gay baskets and cries of “Sweet lavender!” The din made by all these people, added to the thunder of wheels as the vehicles rolled over the cobbled streets and the lowing of a herd of cattle being driven to the markets, was almost deafening. It did not appear to disgust Jane.
“London!” she said, with a sparkle in her eye, “What City is quite like it?”
But her companion did not reply. Like her he was staring from the window, but he seemed sunk in apathy. He continued moody and silent until the stage coach, with a triumphant blast of its horn, drew up at last in the yard of the Crown Inn. He roused himself then sufficiently to see after her baggage, which consisted of a modest carpet bag. She decided to leave this at the Crown to be called for later, and they hailed a passing hackney to convey them the short distance to the offices of Jane’s lawyer in Chancery Lane.
They soon arrived; Jane’s companion paid off the jarvey, and accompanied her to the door of the building. On the threshold, he hesitated.
“No doubt you will wish to be private with your man of affairs at first,” he said. “I will take a turn or two about the street, and perhaps the clerk will summon me when your lawyer
shall be ready to receive me.”
“Will you not rather wait inside?” asked Jane.
He shook his head.
“No, thank you. I have had more than enough of sitting during the last few hours, and shall be glad of an opportunity of stretching my legs for a while. I will await your pleasure, then.”
With a brief bow, he turned to leave her. She watched him run down the steps to the street with a queer little sense of misgiving at her heart. Almost she called after him in an endeavour to persuade him to change his mind; but she had no wish to presume upon what was after all a short, even if an unconventional acquaintance. As she passed through the door, she reflected how strange it was to realise that she had never met this gentleman before last night; today, he seemed so much a part of her life.
The clerk in the outer office informed Jane that Mr. Sharratt would be pleased to see her at once. She followed the man a short distance along a dingy passage smelling of old papers and ink, until they reached a door bearing the lawyer’s name. Here the clerk tapped, waiting for an answer before admitting Jane to the presence.
Mr. Sharratt rose from his swivel chair very promptly for one of his years, and welcomed his client with all the cordiality that a naturally precise manner would permit. He was a thin, angular man who stooped a little, with sparse white hair which had receded from a high forehead, and shrewd eyes of a faded blue. He had been the Captain’s man of affairs since before Jane’s birth, and was intimately acquainted with her history. He now begged her to be seated, placing a comfortable chair for her close to the fire; and proceeded to inquire minutely into matters of her health and affairs in general. As he was almost her only friend nowadays, with the exception of the relatives whom she saw too infrequently for intimacy, she bore patiently with his longwindedness. She was longing to have done with her own concerns, and come to those of the stranger who was waiting below.
She managed at last to mention the original purpose of her visit, which was to release some of her small capital for the purchase of new clothes.
“For you see,” she explained, “I cannot very well go as a companion in a nobleman’s household with my present wardrobe.”
“This will be the first time you have taken a post as a companion, will it not, Miss Jane?”
She nodded, a little uncertainly. “I hope I shall contrive to give satisfaction. Little was said concerning my duties; I only hope that the lady is not too peevish or sickly. I had no means of judging, as I was interviewed by the husband. He was, I should say, in his early fifties, so she cannot be of any great age. I must confess that I should have preferred another post as governess; but none offered, and I cannot afford to wait.”
He drew a leather case from his pocket, and fitted a pair of spectacles on to his sharp nose.
“You have not signed any contract, my dear young lady, I trust?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Sharratt. I would not do so without first obtaining your advice.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Who is this nobleman?”
“The Earl of Bordesley; his house is in Grosvenor Square.”
The dusty blue eyes quickened. The lawyer opened his lips as though about to speak, then shut them again in a firm, thin line, and pondered for several minutes.
“Just so,” he said at last. “Well, Miss Jane, I need not tell you that if there is anything you do not like about your new situation, you must come at once to me.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked quickly. “Have you any reason to suppose that there will be something I shall not like?”
“Simply a precautionary measure,” he told her. “I think you know, my dear, that Mrs. Sharratt and I — but I believe we have spoken of this before.”
Jane knew that he referred to an offer, made some years since, to take her into his home as his daughter. The grey eyes warmed and softened.
“I can’t accept, sir; impossible for me to tell you how much I value your goodness, your friendship, but I must keep my independence.”
He sighed. “We understand; and let me say that we admire the fortitude with which you have met your reverses. However, Miss Jane, beware of too much independence; you, who are always so prompt in coming to the assistance of others, ought to be willing to accept a like service from them. However, I’ll not tease you further on that subject at present. How much money will you require?”
Jane named a sum which was the minimum on which she could expect to refurbish her wardrobe suitably for her new post. The lawyer appeared satisfied, and undertook to furnish her with funds at once. He explained that the necessary steps to be taken for the release of her money would take a day or two, but that he was quite at liberty to let her have an advance immediately.
“That is splendid!” said Jane. “And you will not forget to take your fee sir?”
“Naturally,” he replied, his face devoid of expression. The plain fact was that he had never yet taken a fee from Miss Spencer, and had no intention of beginning now. It would not do, though, to let her know that.
“When do you take up your new post?”
She frowned. “I stated tomorrow as the time, thinking to give myself two days’ grace for my shopping; but I was delayed upon the road, and now shall have only one. That reminds me, sir, there is something —”
“You will sleep with us tonight, I trust?” he cut in quickly. “I will send a note to Mrs. Sharratt; there is always a room ready for you, as you know.”
Jane thanked him, and, before he could turn the conversation, hurried on to tell him the story of her strange adventure on the road. He listened with some misgivings; it was infamous that such a dear, sweet girl should be subjected to dangers of the kind. Mrs. Sharratt and he had no children of their own, and they would have taken her into their household and thanked Heaven for the privilege. But it was no use; she had all her father’s courage and resolution, and a pride which perhaps came from the mother’s side. His face was grave when she had finished her tale.
“You must be a little more upon your guard, my dear; this man may be anyone. Indeed, the whole business might be a trick to trap the unwary.”
“What, to have oneself knocked on the head outside a modest inn?” asked Jane, with a trace of indignation in her tone.
“No, not that, of course, but his statement that he had lost his memory might well be false. You do not know what crimes he may have to cover.”
“I would stake my life on his integrity!” declared Jane, emphatically.
Dismay crossed the lawyer’s face. The girl seemed by far too taken up with this unknown man. He knew women well enough, however, to judge that any opposition on his part would serve only to heighten the interest, and therefore he held his peace. He rang for the clerk, desiring him to fetch up the gentleman whom he would find waiting outside.
“What name. sir?” asked the clerk.
“No name,” was the brief answer.
The clerk gaped.
“Well, do you mean to go? I dare say you won’t encounter a dozen or so of gentlemen lingering in the vicinity,” remarked Mr. Sharratt, with an irritability usual in him when he was worried.
“You cannot mistake him,” put in Jane, eagerly. “He is tall and dark, with thick black eyebrows and a penetrating sort of look.”
“At once, ma’am,” said the clerk, hurrying from the room.
Mr. Sharratt scowled a little over Jane’s description, which to his mind conveyed the picture of a very villain. They sat in silence for what seemed a long time, before footsteps were heard in the passage outside. Jane sprang to her feet, hastily pushing back her chair, so that it nearly overturned.
The door opened, revealing the bemused and slightly sheepish face of the clerk.
“Beg pardon, sir, but there’s no gentleman outside.”
“Nonsense!” cried Jane, almost sharply. Once again her heart contracted with misgiving. “He must be there — did you look farther along the street?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the man, timidly. “I walked up and
down a bit, but I encountered no one but a neighbour of ours.”
“I must see for myself.” said Jane, and ran impetuously from the room before Mr. Sharratt could stop her.
Her feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground as she sped along the passage, through the front office, and down the steps into the street. Here she halted, and looked about her.
He must be here. How long had she been talking with the lawyer? Perhaps twenty minutes, even a half-hour; he might have gone quite a distance in that time, strolling about, preoccupied with his thoughts. He would most likely return presently, dismayed to find that he had been so long absent. But at any rate, the clerk was right; the gentleman was not here now.
Inexplicably, she suddenly knew that he was gone and would not return. She had known it from the moment when they had parted outside the building, the moment when she had wanted to call him back.
With feet that dragged, she made the journey back to Mr. Sharratt’s room. He looked up expectantly as she entered, frowning at seeing her alone.
“Sit down, my dear,” he said gently.
His client looked as if she had suffered a shock.
Jane seated herself in a dazed fashion, and remained silent for some minutes.
“Where can he be?” she burst out at last. “I must confess I feel anxious about his welfare — how will he fare alone in his present condition?”
The lawyer cleared his throat. “Assuming that the story he told you was true —”
Jane’s eyes flashed. “I thought we had disposed of that quibble!”
“Just so,” said Mr. Sharratt, soothingly. “There remain, then, as I see it, two possibilities. Either he has gone on some errand, and will presently be back —”
Jane shook her head despondently. “I thought of that; but we have been sitting here an age. He has had time to return from any little call at a shop, and what other errand could he have?”
The lawyer nodded. “I do not depend too much upon my first supposition. My second is that he has recovered his memory while we have been talking here, and set off immediately for his home, wherever that may be.”
The Jewelled Snuff Box Page 4
