The Rebel

by May McGoldrick

  “Cut me as you please, Miss Purefoy, but do not wrongfully accuse me.” He added as an afterthought. “But tell me, isn’t this much more pleasant than our little disagreement in the woods yesterday?”

  This was a subject that neither had broached, yet. A flicker of shared knowledge passed between them. Nicholas couldn’t help but notice the gentle blush that crept into her face.

  “We are late,” she finally replied quietly, spurring her horse into a canter.

  He fell in beside her and looked at his timepiece. “We have plenty of time. The sun is not yet high, and my watch tells me we have more than enough time to keep our appointment with the good Parson Adams. Do you have some other reason to rush?”

  “Sir, you came out today to spend the day with my sister. I have already taken you from her needlessly. It is my responsibility to return you to her as expeditiously as possible.”

  “Allow me to correct this misunderstanding.” He watched her carefully to gauge her reaction. “I came out today with the hope of spending time in your company. I have been looking to find an opportunity when we could speak.”

  Her face immediately sobered. “It was an unfortunate thing that we had to run into each other yesterday as we did. There must be many questions…concerns that you have.” She gradually slowed her mare to a walk. “I assure you that Clara takes no part in anything inappropriate. She is a perfectly well-bred daughter and subject of the Crown. She is totally innocent of my…well, my interests…and always has been.”

  “I don’t care to speak about Clara.”

  “And you should not allow that scene yesterday affect your marriage plans,” Jane insisted. “You should not blame her for what I do…or hold my family responsible for my actions. Believe me, for years I have lived with the certain knowledge that if my parents ever found me out, they would be the first to hand me over to the magistrate and his executioner.”

  There was a sadness in her tone, and Nicholas wished he could dispute her words. But based on the little that he’d seen himself of Sir Thomas and his wife, he didn’t doubt her in the slightest.

  “And now…suddenly…I find I am at the mercy of a stranger,” she added a moment later.

  Nicholas knew he should assure her that he had not revealed her secret to anyone and he had no plans of doing it in the future, either. Whatever motivated her to act as she did was her own concern. He didn’t give a damn, personally, about the possibility of scandal. And in spite of Bishop Russell’s unrelenting condemnation yesterday, Nicholas himself had seen her cut the ropes binding the hands of the clergyman. But he wasn’t ready to admit anything that would set her mind at ease. He wasn’t ready to have her totally disregard him.

  “All I can assure you so far is that my answers to those who have questioned me about yesterday have been—” He searched for the right word. “—imprecise.”

  “And why is that?” Her eyes were sharp as she awaited his answer.

  “Because I have seen how we Englishmen tend to treat those whom we conquer and colonize.” Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on the reins. “I make it my business not to judge others based on so little information. I make it a habit not to intervene unless there is a sound reason.”

  “Although he didn’t deserve it, I set that bishop free yesterday. Then what was your reason for pulling me off my horse?”

  “I was desperate for an introduction. I apologize. I am trying to improve my methods of meeting people.”

  Her laughter this time was full and lingered in his ear like the prettiest of songs. He gazed at her, wondering if she had any idea about her power to charm. Her dark and enchanting eyes turned on him, and he felt the undeniable pull in his gut.

  “Then I can assume that you said nothing about our earlier meeting to the magistrate?”

  “You are perfectly safe in making that assumption.”

  “How about revealing anything in the future meetings with the man?”

  “You are quite persistent,” he remarked, enjoying this undivided attention. “As things stand now, Sir Robert and I seem to have developed an immediate aversion toward each other. Unless something changes, I doubt we would have future discussions on the topic, either.”

  Mischief danced in her eyes as she pressed him further. “Of course, this vague assurance is only good until I stab you in the arm again.”

  “You shall not have that opportunity again, Miss Jane.” He gave her a meaningful glance. “I don’t believe next time I shall allow you off your back so quickly.”

  This time the blush was deeper—the awareness between them potent. Nicholas realized the edginess was starting to take charge by the way her hands tightened around the rein of the horse. He was quick to change the subject, as he had no wish to shorten their time together.

  “In any case, I assure you that I would not be choosing Musgrave as a confidante. If any questions or misunderstandings arise, my inclination would be to seek explanations and answers from you.”

  She studied him more closely, and Nicholas found himself hoping that she would approve of what she saw.

  “You are far more open-minded than I expected—and far more candid. Clearly, we do great wrong in judging a person purely on their station in life.”

  “You are too hard on yourself.”

  “I think not,” she said matter-of-factly. “Though I can think of no other Englishman I have ever met who would not have seen it as his duty to expose me—an outlaw and a woman—if not to the magistrate, then certainly to my father.”

  “I can see that you do not think too highly of my brethren.”

  “I fear you are correct in that observation.” She gave him a half smile. “But of course, there are always exceptions. Parson Adams is a man who places decency and compassion above greed and class and colonial domination.”

  Even the mention of the minister’s name managed to irk Nicholas. He was enjoying the feeling of ease that was developing with this woman, and the thought of a possible competitor rankled somewhat.

  “And may I ask if you have formed any firm plans regarding your marriage to the good Parson Adams?”

  The look of incredulity she directed at him was as pleasurable as it was unexpected.

  “What in heaven’s name should cause you to say something like that? Marriage? Henry Adams and I? That is simply preposterous!”

  “Is it?”

  “Absolutely. We are no more than old and trusted friends.”

  “A relationship that most couples can only hope to achieve…in the best of marriages.”

  She shook her head adamantly. “I fear you haven’t been around a sufficient length of time to understand what things are like around here, sir.”

  “Perhaps you’d be kind enough to enlighten me.”

  Jane took her time to answer, and he watched with some interest the internal battle was all too openly reflected in her fair face.

  “He…Reverend Adams is a respected clergyman. And I…well, I have a reputation that I managed to ruin in my youth. And my transgression was such that, no matter how many decades go by, no one shall ever forget.” Her cheeks were flushed when she faced him fully, but her eyes were clear and steady. “It is just as well, though, that this topic has come up. And it is best that you should hear the truth from me, for sooner or later you are bound to hear it from someone else. And, frankly, I don’t want any embellished version of my life to ruin my sister’s future happiness.”

  “So this is ‘what things are like’ here? You and the good parson are kept apart by gossip and—what I assume to be—some ancient transgression against what are probably vague and outdated standards of respectability?”

  “No.”

  “What did you do, Miss Jane? Participate in this…this steeple-chasing race I was just hearing about from the innkeeper in Buttevant? You must have given the bishop’s horse and rider a sound thrashing before they found you out. Is that it?”

  “Joke if you will, sir, but that is not it, at all. Nothing of the sort
keeps Parson Adams and me apart.” She gave a firm shake to her head, and more tendrils of her silky hair danced around her face. “As far as my past…and reputation…the truth and the charges against me are much more severe than what you just mentioned. Let me just put it this way…I am not considered in any way marriageable by genteel society.”

  Nicholas could only guess an elopement would be the cause of such ruckus. There was so much that he wanted to know about Jane. But he had to wait until she was ready to confide in him.

  “But as I mentioned before, rumors and accusations are not what keeping us apart. Henry and I simply are friends.”

  “Friends?”

  “Indeed. We are friends and nothing more. Nothing more! Have you never had a woman as a friend? A relationship that is simply built on trust and mutual respect? A friendship that is pure and elevated…one that might be considered platonic?”

  Nicholas put on a great show of thinking about the question. Inside, though, he was delighted to hear that he wasn’t competing with the clergyman for her attentions.

  Competing for her attentions.

  The admission made him glance at her again. He found her still waiting for an answer.

  “Once or twice, I believe I have come close to establishing a friendship such as the kind you describe. But each time it occurred, my friend soon became dissatisfied with the boundaries of that relationship. I beg your pardon, but it has been my experience that women always seem to want more.”

  “Once or twice?” She shook her head disapprovingly. “It has been my experience that generalizations based on limited knowledge are rarely correct and never productive in finding the truth, sir.”

  “My apologies.” He bowed politely. “Women whom I have known happen to seek more.”

  “English women.” She uttered the word as if it were poison on her tongue.

  “I find it curious that you do not classify yourself as an English woman, but I see you don’t think much of them, either.”

  “I cannot believe you really want to hear my opinion on this topic.”

  “But I do.”

  There wasn’t much silent debate now.

  “Many English women that I have met have simply submitted to traditions that have been impressed upon them. As a result, they have allowed themselves to become blinded by the shallow niceties of being admired for their pleasing looks or for the fashionable cut of their garments or for their silent obedience. And in the process, the things that are important—spirit, independence, intelligence—are viewed by the world and by many women, as well, as highly unfeminine and even unnatural.”

  “I take it that you find this to be false and limiting to women.”

  “And to society! Dr. Samuel Johnson, a man who is perhaps the leading light of English letters today is reported to have said, ‘A woman preaching is like a dog walking on its hind legs. It is not done well, but one is surprised to find it done at all.’ How very narrow this kind of low humor is when one considers such women as Margaret More Roper and the Duchess of Pembroke and Lady Mary Wroth, to name but a few!”

  “Indeed,” he replied. “Women of great wit and character.”

  “And yet,” she pressed on, “Many English women—perhaps even most—are willing to overlook how low they are ranked in the world. They are trained to lead their lives in obedience and blissful ignorance, and they bury their spirit and their will and their deepest passions before they even cross life’s threshold into womanhood. They allow themselves to be robbed of the essence of what it is to be a human being.”

  Jane’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with passionate conviction. And Nicholas knew in that moment that he’d never met a woman as exciting and intelligent as this one in his entire life. The fact that she was Egan, a rebel leader, made perfect sense, for it would be impossible not to follow her if she carried this same passion into the cause she fought for.

  As they approached the end of a field, she nudged her horse to the edge of the tall grass, keeping their horses side by side.

  “I didn’t mean to sound so complaining…so critical. Certainly your own family is so different from what I just described.”

  “Indeed, my mother and sister can easily be considered ‘different.’” He smiled. “But there may be something in what you say.”

  “No.” She bent her head under a low branch as they passed into a groove of trees. The leaves brushed against her hair. “I must apologize. After how civil you’ve been to me, and how pleasant Lady Spencer and your sister were to all of us last night, it is utterly wrong of me to commit the same error I have just accused you of making. No generalizing. There are many exceptions to the kind of women I was speaking of. There are so many exceptions to everything in life.”

  “And I’m thankful for it, as there is nothing more tiring than the mundane…a charge that could never be lodged against you.”

  Their gazes locked again when she turned to him, and it was impossible to ignore the awareness of desire that flowed between them. She immediately looked away, but Nicholas’s gaze lingered on the few autumn leaves that had entangled themselves in her hair. She was part of nature—part of this land. None of the discontent he felt in company of Clara existed in these moments with Jane. He was perfectly at ease in her company.

  He was disappointed to find the village of Ballyclough beneath them when they crested the next hill. Jane reached up and removed the wrap from her shoulder. Handling it carefully, she folded it and held it in her lap. She caught him watching her.

  “For Clara’s sake, I cannot look too tattered in public. She would be horrified to think you saw me wearing this.”

  “I’ll keep your secret.”

  She smiled self-consciously. “I find I am in debt to you for keeping so many of them.”

  They were on the edge of the village, but Nicholas was not ready for their time together to end. A muddy dog trotted out from the first of the village cottages, sniffing at Jane’s boot.

  “What we were speaking of before…of friendships between men and women. You really believe such a thing is feasible.”

  “Absolutely. There are many men that I consider friends. A difference in gender has never stopped me from treating another person as an equal. As a woman, however, I can only hope to be treated the same.”

  Jane answered the wave of an older woman who straightened up from digging in a small kitchen garden beside a cottage.

  “And do you think we might be friends?”

  She turned to him, obviously surprised. “I cannot see why not. As a future brother and sister, it will certainly be beneficial for all if we were.”

  “I have changed my mind. I shall not be asking Clara to become my wife.”

  Jane yanked at the reins of her horse, halting Mab suddenly. He, too, stopped.

  “Why?” she asked. “You told me that you would not let what you know of me—”

  “My decision has nothing to do with you,” Nicholas lied, knowing full well it had everything to do with her. “Even before my family and I left London, I was not fully persuaded on the notion of marrying. If I had been committed to marrying your sister, I would have at least sent along my lawyers beforehand.”

  “But my parents. Clara believed…”

  He let his agitation show. “I misled no one. I served as your sister’s escort on a few occasions this past spring, but hardly placed any claims upon her. There were no promises made—no assumptions made—no talks ensuing. And when your parents made the invitation to visit Woodfield House, they understood that I had made no marital overtures.”

  “But you just told me that you have changed your mind. Change indicates that there was a…”

  “I was attempting to be completely honest with you. I have always assumed one friend can be honest with another. And since I have never discussed marriage or proposed, Clara should never know the difference.”

  She leaned toward him, grasping the bridle of his horse. Her eyes showed the temper burning within. “Then, as
a friend, pray explain to me what caused your change of heart.”

  “She is not the one…and for many reasons. The difference in our ages. Her naivety and my experience. Her hesitant approach to life and my recklessness.” He didn’t release Jane’s gaze, nor let her speak when she opened her mouth. “It is true that this past year I have been seriously contemplating marriage. I have arrived at a stage in life when is necessary to have a wife and an heir to fulfill my family obligations. And I also wish to pursue some other plans that have been ripening in my mind for the past few years. I realize now that I had an impractical, almost hypothetical view of marriage. I had not considered thoroughly enough the qualities of the woman I should be marrying.”

  “Come, Sir Nicholas. The truth is, now that you’ve learned about me, you find my sister ‘impractical.’ And you can afford to be more judicious in your choice.”

  “I told you this has nothing to do with you.”

  “But it does,” she spat back at him. “If she was good enough a week ago…a month ago…last spring. Then she should be now.”

  “But she wasn’t…” The look of hurt in Jane’s face was immediate.

  “May I be so bold as to interrupt?”

  Both of them turned simultaneously. There were nearly a dozen people staring from a respectful distance around them. Reverend Adams stood nearby as well, looking up at the two riders expectantly. Nicholas hadn’t realized that Jane was still holding the bridle of his horse until she abruptly let go.

  “Of course,” Nicholas responded belatedly to the clergyman. He realized that they were within walking distance of the parsonage, so he climbed down from his horse. “We were finished with our discussion.”

  “I hardly think so,” Jane corrected, dismounting as well before Nicholas could offer to help her down. “But we shall continue where we left off at a more appropriate time and place.”

  The comment was addressed to him—her direct look challenging him to contradict her. Nicholas bowed politely. If this meant that Jane was willing to spend more time in his company—even to try and sway his decision about marriage and Clara—then he would be a fool to object. In fact, he was quite pleased with the turn of events and of the prospect of what was to come. His mood darkened, though, when he saw the country parson reach up and remove those loose leaves from Jane’s hair.