by Julia Parks
“Yes, Pipkin?”
“Might I have a word, Miss Lindsay?”
“Won’t you excuse me, ladies?” Jane rose.
Drew left his friends and followed in time to hear Jane exclaim, “Oh, no! Have you sent for the doctor?”
“Yes, Miss Jane. Half an hour ago.”
“What is it?” asked Drew.
“Nana is ill. My old nurse,” explained Jane, hurrying from the room.
Drew again followed as Jane slipped down the corridor and up the narrow flight of stairs to the third floor. He paused outside the servant’s room, watching as Jane sank to the floor, clutching the limp hand of the figure lying on the deep feather mattress.
“Nana, we have sent for the physician. He’ll soon make you feel better.”
“Don’t need a doctor. I’ve seen th’ little people. They’ll be back t’ take me up wi’ ’em.”
“No, no. Not yet, Nana. You can’t leave me yet! Why, you’ve got to stay and be nurse to my children.” Jane did her best to keep her voice from trembling. Drew entered the room and placed a reassuring hand on Jane’s shoulder.
The old woman mumbled under her breath, frowning in her efforts. “Children? I…”
“Nana, please. Remember? You told me you’d be here to help nurse my children when I have some.”
The wrinkled brow cleared. “Ah, so I did, dearie. So I did.” The nurse’s faded eyes focused on Drew, and she frowned, her confusion growing once again. “What’s ’e doin’ ’ere?”
“It is Lord Devlin, Nana, my friend. He has come to see how you are.”
“No! No, Miss Jane, make ’im go away!” said the old woman, clutching frantically at Jane’s hands.
“But why Nana? I don’t understand.”
“Never mind, Jane. I’ll wait outside.”
Jane bit her lip as if trying to hold back tears as the servant relaxed her grip. Tucker moved closer, her expert fingers feeling for a pulse.
“She’s jes’ sleepin’, Miss Jane. Mayhap, she’ll rest awhile now. I gave ’er a taste of laudanum when I got up here. She was ever so restless.”
“How long before the doctor arrives?”
“Shouldn’t be long now. We sent for ’im straight away. We didn’t want t’ bother you, Miss Jane, if we didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I’m glad you did.”
Drew put his head in the door again and said, “Jane, why don’t I go down and explain what’s happened? Everyone will understand.”
“Thank you, Drew. I would do it, but I don’t want to leave Nana right now.”
“No, you mustn’t leave her now. Don’t worry, I’ll set everything to rights and send them on their way.”
Drew was as good as his word. As soon as he had sent the other guests away, he suggested quietly to his mother that she might like to get rid of Giles and Farley for him. The speaking look he gave her made his mother smile and pat his hand. Then she stifled a huge, entirely false yawn, and asked Giles and Farley if they wouldn’t mind escorting an old lady home. Both men vehemently denied agreeing with her choice of adjective and insisted they would be honoured to accompany her back to Bath.
As Drew handed his mother into the coach, she whispered, “The best of luck to you, Drew.”
He grinned, but vouchsafed no reply.
“Could I bring you something, my lord?” asked Pipkin as Drew re-entered the house.
“Yes, a stout glass of whiskey, please. I’ll be out on the terrace.”
As he waited, staring across the gaily lit garden, Drew sipped the potent liquid cautiously. What was it called? Dutch courage? But surely he had reason to be confident of Jane’s answer. He didn’t expect her to act grateful precisely, but she had sufficient time to decide in his favour. She couldn’t help but know how he felt about her, had felt almost since the night he had met her at the Valentine Ball, when she had stared at him so defiantly. He had been side-tracked momentarily by the porcelain beauty of her cousin, Cherry, but that had been fleeting. How could mere beauty compare to Jane’s elegance and spirit?
What was that family tradition Jane had once explained? All the ladies of Heartland met their future husbands at the Valentine Ball. He looked forward to reinforcing the legend of Heartland.
Drew heard a movement and turned toward the house. Jane stood in the doorway, the candlelight from the ballroom illuminating her shapely silhouette. He watched as she glided across the limestone terrace. God, but she was beautiful! His pulse quickened.
With a wan smile, Jane peered up at him. The lanterns in the garden went out, one by one, as Mickey extinguished them, leaving the couple in near darkness.
“She’s asleep. The doctor arrived. He said it was a fit of apoplexy. He thinks she will recover, but only time will tell.”
“He didn’t bleed her, did he?”
“No, he rarely suggests that. I wouldn’t have let him anyway. Nana is terrified of that,” Jane looked around, as though expecting her other guests to materialize. “Did everyone understand?”
“I daresay, but it makes no difference whether they did or not.”
The old Jane might have denied such a social solecism; this Jane said only, “Where is your mother?”
“She was very tired. I sent her back to Bath with Giles and Farley.” Drew was unaccountably self-conscious of his conspiracy to be alone with Jane.
“Jane, there is something I…” He placed his long fingers over her hand where it rested on the balustrade. A single tear fell from her eye. “Jane?” He turned her to face him. He touched her moist cheek. “Jane, my love.”
“Oh, Drew, not now!” she exclaimed, pulling out of his embrace. “Surely you can see that I’m in no fit state for…oh, anything.”
“What is it, Jane?” Drew found it impossible to keep the irritation out of his voice.
What was the matter with her? Was she angry about something? He couldn’t recall anything he had done or said in weeks to which she might have taken exception.
“I’m tired,” was all Jane would say, and she began to retreat toward the darkened ballroom.
“So am I,” growled Drew, catching her hand before she could escape. “I’m tired of waiting around here, walking on eggshells trying to win your approval!”
“I didn’t ask you to wait around here!” she snapped indignantly. “And I would thank you, sir, to release me!”
“The devil,” he exclaimed, pulling her into his embrace. That would show her!
But Jane was well and truly angry by this time. Pushing away from him, she slapped his face.
Immediately Drew released her. He sketched a quick bow and hurried across the terrace, down the limestone steps, and toward the stables.
b
Jane stared into the darkness for several minutes watching him depart. No tears fell; she felt only emptiness inside. Later, she might feel remorse, guilt, or pain, but not yet.
Pipkin, who had not exactly eavesdropped but had the uncanny knack of knowing when his mistress was distressed, brought her shawl and placed it around her trembling shoulders with great tenderness. The gesture was like the loving comfort a parent bestows on a troubled child.
Jane turned slightly and gave him a small, grateful smile.
“‘The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.’”
“Thank you, Pipkin,” replied Jane. “I shall stay out here a little longer. You may tell the staff to go to bed.”
“Very good, Miss Jane.”
“And Pipkin, I shan’t be receiving Lord Devlin again.”
Not that he is likely to call, she added silently.
“Just so, Miss Jane.”
Chapter Seven
“Isn’t receiving? What rubbish is that, Pipkin?”
“I’m sorry, my lord. Those are Miss Lindsay’s instructions.”
“Tell me, Pipkin. If my name were Ashmore or Farley, would your mistress be receiving?” Drew’s eyes peered intently into the butler’s, but not a flicker of e
motion was revealed by the servant.
“That is difficult to say, my lord.”
“I see. You didn’t need to inquire if she would receive me; she has already said she wouldn’t. But for anyone else, it is still in question.”
Drew had stayed at Heartland until after midnight then had risen early to repeat the long ride out that morning. And Jane refused to see him. She was an ungrateful wench!
“I couldn’t say, sir,” came Pipkin’s stately reply.
“I could force my way in.” This fierce statement did produce a reaction in the butler. With a mere flick of his finger, Mickey appeared behind him.
Drew laughed bitterly. “That won’t be necessary, Pipkin. What I should do and what I shall do are two different matters. You may tell your mistress I shan’t trouble her again.”
The old butler unbent enough to say sadly, “I will inform Miss Lindsay, my lord. Such is the nature of my duty.”
“I know, I know. By the way, I’ve sent the Runner, Mr. Bailey back to London. I suppose that, too, was a waste. I’ve been tilting at windmills.”
Drew settled his fashionable beaver hat on his head and strolled out the door.
b
During the two weeks that followed, Jane divided her time between her old nurse’s room and planning Heartland’s annual Open Day. Nana improved daily, though her mind sometimes wandered. She would speak vaguely about seeing a vision of danger to Jane, a vision that contained a man, and Jane couldn’t help but wonder if the man was Drew. But for the most part, she wouldn’t allow herself time to dwell on thoughts of Drew.
She received regular visits from her new friends, Farley and Giles. They would often bring Lydia Ashmore along. It was apparent that Giles Stanton was head over heels about Miss Ashmore, a lively, but kind young lady. As for Mr. Farley, Jane was beginning to wish him gone. He rarely drank, but his personality was tinged with unpleasantness, like a slightly distempered drunk.
Twice, Drew’s mother called—once alone and once with the dowager duchess in tow. She invited Jane to tea, and Jane accepted cautiously when Mrs. Peterson let slip that there would be a prize fight that day and all the gentlemen of Bath planned to drive out to see it.
At the end of June, the Season in London drew to a close. People returned to their homes in Bath, and Jane put the finishing touches on her plans for the Open Day to be held the third week of July.
Mrs. Peterson called during that last week of June to ask Jane to journey to London with her. “I know it sounds absurd, Jane, but Martha—the dowager duchess, you know—insists it is the best time to shop. You shan’t believe it, but she is frightfully parsimonious.” She gave her girlish laugh as she revealed this tidbit of information.
“But Mrs. Peterson, I really can’t go. I must see to all the final preparations for Open Day. It is quite an event. There must be something for everyone, from the oldest tenant farmer to the youngest girl or boy. And I am expecting my Aunt Sophie and Cherry next week.”
“Very well. If I can’t persuade you, I shall have to make the best of it. I was so hoping my fashion adviser could go with me.”
Jane laughed. “You know very well the dowager duchess will tell you exactly what you must purchase!”
“No doubt you are right.”
Jane ventured timidly, “Will Drew accompany you?”
“No, he refuses to leave Bath. Especially, he said, for steaming, dirty London. Now, I must be going. Martha wants to leave tomorrow. I do hope she plans to make the journey in one day. I dislike staying at strange inns.”
“Have a pleasant journey and a successful shopping expedition,” said Jane as she ushered Mrs. Peterson out the door.
b
When Jane awoke the following morning, she felt restless. She reviewed her plans for the day and could find no reason for uneasiness. As she sampled Mrs. Brown’s coddled eggs, she wondered if perhaps she was coming down with something. She pushed the eggs away, and the footman pulled back her chair as she rose.
“Miss Jane,” said Pipkin when she entered the hall. “Nurse wishes a word with you. Mrs. Tucker said she is quite agitated.”
“Thank you, Pipkin,” said Jane, hurrying toward the stairs.
So this was the problem! She must have sensed that her old nurse had taken a turn for the worse.
Jane hurried into the tiny room, her gaze searching the bed before she realized it was unoccupied.
“So ye’ve come, missy!”
“Nana! What is it? Pipkin said you were worse.”
“Worse? Not me!”
Jane sank onto the bed, her head resting wearily in her hands.
Tucker came in and scolded, “Miss Jane! Pipkin was supposed to ask you to see me first. There was no reason to upset you. Nana is much improved physically, as you see.” The maid stressed the word “physically” and Jane understood her meaning.
“Thank you, Tucker. That will be all.”
As if to deny the maid’s implication, the old woman said tartly, “Yes, send ’er away. What I ’ave t’ say is for yer ears only, Miss Jane.”
Jane nodded to the indignant maid, and Tucker left, closing the door with a decided snap. Jane turned to her old nurse.
“What is it, Nana?”
“Th’ man, Miss Jane. I have t’ warn ye about th’ man.”
“What man, Nana?”
The old woman clutched the arms of the chair. “I don’t know. I kin see ’im ever so clear in my dream, but when I open m’eyes, ’e’s gone. It’s them piskies; they’re cloudin’ m’vision!”
“Now, Nana. Start from the beginning and tell me.” Jane’s gentle prompting calmed the old woman’s agitated spirit, and she began her tale anew.
“I’ve ’ad th’ same dream for months now. Oh, since just after th’ Valentine Ball. ’Tis always th’ same. Ye’re there, an’ me, but ye can’t hear me. This man—I’ve tried ’n tried t’ remember ’is face—this man wants t’ take ye away from me. ’E’s tryin’ t’ kill ye, Miss Jane! An’ I scream ’n scream, but ye can’t hear me!”
“It’s only a dream, Nana.”
“No, no! I’ve ’ad ’em afore, I tell ye. Ye remember th’ year you got th’ fever. I knew ye would, ’an I watched ye like a hawk, but it didn’t ’elp. Ye got sick anyway!”
“But, Nana, that was a coincidence. The fever was bad that year. Of course, you were worried I might become ill.”
“An’ when yer mother—rest ’er soul—died. I knew it was comin’. An’ yer grandmother—rest ’er soul. I kin see things, Miss Jane, things other people can’t see.”
This last was spoken with an eerie conviction, and Jane shivered. Shaking off the strange atmosphere, Jane said, “I can’t think who it could be in your dream, Nana. No one would want to harm me.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but since I’ve been down in m’bed, th’ dream comes all th’ time—every time I close m’eyes. But I can’t remember th’ face. ’E’s a big man, tall and fierce, but that’s all I know.”
A big man, thought Jane. Drew certainly fit that description. He was tall, even to one of her statuesque proportions. And she had met him at the Valentine Ball. But as before, when the suspicion arose in the back of her mind that Drew might wish to harm her, Jane balked at the notion. Then she recalled Nana’s reaction to Drew the night Nana had suffered the stroke. Was it possible?
“Miss Jane,” repeated the old woman. “Ye must be careful, d’ye hear? I’ve no wish t’see my girl’s funeral afore m’own.”
Jane smiled automatically. “Don’t worry, Nana. I’ll be careful, and you’ll see, I’ll be fine.”
Jane tried to shake off the feeling of gloom that had settled over her. She ordered out Sinbad and went for a long ride, avoiding the small tenant farms that dotted her land but staying in view of her groom.
Still, she remained troubled, feeling that something, somewhere, was amiss. Heavens! I’m getting as bad as Nana!
With a determinedly cheery smile, she greeted Pipkin. The dour-faced
butler bowed and presented her with a letter as she entered the main hall.
“An express from Mrs. Pettigrew. It arrived by special messenger an hour ago.”
Jane felt her knees turn wobbly and sat down abruptly on the hard wooden bench against the wall. A host of butterflies began cavorting in her stomach as she broke the seal and read:
My Dearest Niece,
The most dreadful thing has occurred. Cherry, with no regard for my feelings, has run away to France! You can imagine my shame when I read her note. That a daughter of mine could sink to such depths! She is accompanied, of course, by Lord Pierce! I’m prostrate with grief. What shall I do? I depend on you, dearest Jane, to set everything to rights.
Your loving aunt,
Sophie Pettigrew
“Of all the…that foolish girl! Pipkin! Have my travelling coach brought round in an hour—the fastest horses, mind! Tell Tucker to start packing. Where’s that messenger?”
“The kitchens, miss.”
“Good! Give him money and a fresh horse. I’ll have a note to send my aunt in fifteen minutes!”
Jane strode to her office and penned a quick note.
Dear Aunt,
Leave London immediately. Go visit your sister in Sussex. I will tend to Cherry. If anyone asks, she is with me at Heartland. Tell no one about this disaster, and we shall all come about!
Jane
An hour later, trunks packed and loaded, Jane set out in the elegant travelling coach. Tucker, who was an indifferent traveller, slept peacefully in the opposite seat, her laudanum-induced doze untroubled by the sway of the huge carriage. As for Jane, she occupied her mind with a mental list of necessities, reassuring herself that nothing had been forgotten.
b
Drew turned his large stallion into the gates of Heartland. As he traversed the last mile to the house, he tried not to think how he would react to another rejection. If Pipkin told him his mistress wasn’t receiving again…
