After a few yards, her hand softened and she laid her fingers on his forearm. “I am not asking you to spill the secrets of your marriage, or even your heartfelt emotions. I just want to know—”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He tipped his gaze to the darkening clouds as they scudded across the sky. “I married a woman I didn’t love, who never loved me, only my position. When Elizabeth realized someone’s position can lead to loneliness if there is nothing more to base it on than ambition, she left.”
“And what of you? You have some responsibility in that, too, if you didn’t love her.”
He stopped. The truth of her words echoed the self-hating thoughts that had beleaguered him ever since Elizabeth left. He looked deep into Jane’s beautiful eyes and exhaled. “Do you think I am not aware of that? I have thought of little else for weeks. Which is why I don’t blame Elizabeth for leaving me if she thinks she can be happier with someone else, but that doesn’t make my failure any less painful. I gave all I had to my marriage. I compromised. I shared. Damnation, I thought I listened. It wasn’t enough.
“So, what am I to do now? Seek another woman willing to take on the responsibility and duty that comes with being a squire’s wife when I have no idea what more I have to give? Would you be willing to surrender your life just to stand beside me? I think not.”
She took a step back and stared at him, her face paling. “Well, of course I couldn’t just—”
“As I thought.” Matthew strode forward, leaving her to follow on behind, his heart thundering. What woman apart from Elizabeth, who had been told of the escalation should she marry him, would be willing to sacrifice so much of her life?
Certainly not Jane.
She had too much integrity, too much care for others.
Which is why he had forced down his long-held feelings for her for so many years. He had a duty, a promise made to his father. He could not risk generations of Cleaves’s efforts and achievements for the sake of love. The notion was pure selfishness.
“Matthew, wait.”
He halted as Jane’s hurried steps came from behind. Once beside him, she touched his arm. “Look at me.”
Matthew briefly closed his eyes before facing her. The previous angry light in her eyes had dimmed. Was she shocked by his admission of never having loved Elizabeth? Disappointed? Good God, did she pity him? He clenched his jaw.
Her gaze searched his. “What is done is done. You must decide what you are going to do next. Life is for living. Decision and action are what matters. I learned that far too late, and I would hate for you to live in regret as I do now.”
He frowned. “What do you regret? Surely not your life in the village?”
“Not entirely, but I do regret the time I spent waiting for my mother to get well instead of accepting her impending death. I would have made those last months with her more enjoyable, instead of hankering for a cure and her approval. I regret not being more honest with myself and the people around me. I regret that once time has passed, you cannot retrieve it. I should’ve made my own happiness and not relied on others to provide it for me.”
“What others?” He fought the need to hold her. “What happiness?”
She looked away along the path. “True happiness comes from accepting who you are and being proud of it.” She faced him. “I know that now.”
He stared into her hazel eyes, so full of passion. “And who are you, Jane?”
“I am someone with a desperate need to give . . . to love. There are so many lonely children here. If I can offer some of them a modicum of comfort and joy, then that is what I have to do.”
His heart kicked as he became painfully aware of their close proximity and the almost overbearing need to take her in his arms. She had told him what he already knew, what everyone who knew Jane was wholly aware of. She was good, loyal, and honest and held a heart bigger than so many others. Still, she was unhappy.
He took her hand and smiled in an effort to soothe the fear in her eyes. “Somehow, some way, you will do that. I am sure of it.” His stomach knotted with a horrible sense of loss. “I am just sorry your sense of fulfillment couldn’t be found in Biddestone.”
Her gaze lingered on his lips. “What I seek is no longer there.”
The weight of unspoken words bore down on Matthew’s chest, and he resumed to walking once more, Jane’s hand still on his arm, her fingers digging a little deeper into his forearm than they had before. Tension emanated from her, and he had no idea how to dissolve it. Things had been left unsaid by them both. She clearly sensed it, and so did he.
They left the park, and he led her along Gay Street toward the Circus. He glanced at her. “I might have been wrong to think my marriage would last with Elizabeth, but I hate to think I have been wrong all these years thinking you were happy in Biddestone.”
“The village did make me happy. At least, for a while.”
“So this dissatisfaction is relatively new?” He looked at her.
She stared straight ahead, her jaw tight.
Matthew frowned. “Jane?”
She turned. “My dissatisfaction is years old. The realization I was wasting my time, that is relatively new.”
Jane being happier away from the village, her family—and him—twisted like a sharpened blade in his chest. How was he to leave her in Bath without exploring the cause of the raw frustration and sadness that now gripped him?
The urge to comfort her, to kiss her, whispered through Matthew’s body, and he quickly averted his eyes from her profile. “Elizabeth’s departure is a blessing. I am free to live my life unencumbered by a loveless marriage and an unhappy home. If I am ever to love again, my decision to marry will not be taken lightly. I will ensure my intended knows what it means to be a squire’s wife and the sacrifices she will have to make for Biddestone. She will be given the chance to walk away.” He glanced at her and smiled wryly. “Yet, I sorely suspect my demands will be too high and my ego too fragile to put myself on any woman.”
She stared, her beautiful gaze lingering over every inch of his face. She inhaled and pulled back her shoulders. “Well, I wish you luck in your new and unattached life. I, for one, intend to live for myself from now on. You should too.”
Sadness swept through him that someone as good as Jane was not as happy as she deserved to be. If a man were ever to have her, he should envelop her in tenderness and desire, riches and consideration. The man who could do that would be warm and loving, unhindered and unencumbered by lineage and demands. That man most certainly wasn’t him.
He cleared his throat. “It’s a shame you will not be returning to Biddestone with me when I have finished my business here.”
She drew to a halt outside her father’s house and eased her hand from his arm. “Why would you say that? To me, of all people?”
He frowned; the softness in her eyes had turned to irritation. “What do you mean? ‘To me, of all people?’”
She trembled, anger rife in her gaze. “Why do you even care that I am no longer in the village? What am I to you but someone to count on at village meetings and disruptions?”
The passion in her words, the clear anger in her eyes washed over him. His spine turned rigid. “You and your family have always been an important part of my life. How can you insinuate you are nothing more than a support?”
Her cheeks flushed red. “I insinuate what is clearly true. Actions speak louder than words, and I know now you are as guilty as my family in your reliance of me always being there. Well, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you, the village, maybe even Monica and Thomas. From now on, I will do what makes me happy. Not you or anyone else.” She fumbled with the strings on her bag, eventually managing to open it and extract her key. She clasped it in her fist. “Do what you have to do and return home. I don’t want you here.”
She spun away from him and stormed along the short pathway to her front door, her skirt quivering with her anger. Matthew stared after her until she had slammed the doo
r.
What in God’s name had gotten hold of her? It was as though she set the entirety of her disappointments at his feet. He glared at her closed front door. How could she blame him when she’d already surmised her happiness could only come from within?
He turned and walked away from the Circus, toward his hotel. He picked up his pace, frustration swirling hot in his blood. Good God, was he equally as guilty of lining his path with propriety and what he thought would be beneficial as Elizabeth had been?
Wasn’t Jane trying to tell him a person’s heart should be always be open? That by not showing what he felt about Elizabeth, life, the village . . . damnation, even Jane, that he was no better than anyone else who had disappointed her?
He shook his head.
He’d actually had the audacity to think all she needed was his protection from cads and tricksters. In his current state of mind, the only person she needed protecting from was him. The good and great Squire Cleaves was little more than a bloody fraud.
Chapter 8
When enough time had elapsed that Jane thought it safe to move away from the closed front door, she hurried into the drawing room. Standing at the edge of the window, she peered around the drapes toward the street. Matthew had gone. She released her held breath and dropped her shoulders. Her outburst might have been necessary for her heart’s protection, but that did little to soothe the horrid open wound it had rendered in her soul.
What choice did she have but to hurt him? Their estrangement would surely be to the benefit of them both in the long term. Tears burned and she squeezed her eyes shut, her heart aching. She shouldn’t care for Matthew’s thoughts or feelings about her outburst, but she did. So much.
She’d made the decision to come to Bath and now he was once again a part of her world.
He had to go.
Her feelings for him were reemerging at a terrifying rate, and having him stare at her with those deep blue eyes wasn’t helping.
“Jane?”
At the sound of Jeannie’s call, Jane straightened and quickly pulled the drapes closed. “I’m in the drawing room, Jeannie. Is everything all right?”
Jeannie appeared in the doorway, her face shadowed in the semidarkness as she walked farther into the room. “I was expecting you to be with the squire. Would you like me to light some lamps?”
“No, I’ll do it.” Jane walked across the room to a gas lamp on a small table by the settee. Taking up the matches, she lit the wax taper and held it to the lamp. She blew out the taper and put it on the table, heedless of dripping wax and instead acutely aware of the horrible, gnawing need to cry.
She swallowed her weakness and plastered on a smile. “Were you in your room when I came in? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Jeannie held a leather-bound book aloft and grimaced. “I found a mystery novel on your father’s bookcase over there. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. In fact, I am pleasantly surprised my father would deem to read anything other the financials.” Jane laughed. “Maybe we’ll find some romances too . . . and know the real reason behind his secrecy in not allowing me, Monica, or Mama into the house.”
Jeannie giggled. “Well, if you don’t need anything else, I will retire for the night. I am looking forward to seeing Mr. and Mrs. Lacey again tomorrow. They were always so kind to me whenever they visited Marksville.”
“They are two of my most favorite people. Go on up to bed. I will be upstairs very shortly.”
With a final concerned glance, Jeannie nodded and left the room.
Once Jeannie’s footsteps sounded across her bedroom floor, Jane exhaled and sat on the settee, dropping her head back.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught of tears. The last thing she would ever do was tell Matthew how long her pathetic need for happiness had been connected to him, that she had loved him for years, before, and during, his marriage.
She had to move on. In spirit, if not heart. Her life excited her for the first time in months, maybe even years. Matthew had a job to do, a responsibility to accept the deterioration of his marriage and do what was right for the village. If he had to do it alone, without a wife beside him, then so be it.
Opening her eyes, Jane picked up the box of matches and strode around the room lighting other lamps. Everything would be all right. She and Jeannie would visit with Laura and Adam tomorrow. The more she considered the option of their protection, the more sense it made. Of course, she would be giving up a little of her independence in the name of safety, but that did not mean she was abandoning her mission to make a life of her own.
Picking up one of the lit lamps, she walked into the hallway toward the kitchen.
A knock at the front door drew her to an abrupt halt.
Jane tightened her hand around the lamp.
The silhouette of a man’s head and hat loomed in the circle of glass in the top panel of the door. Indecision raced through her as Jane stood stock-still, her heart pounding.
Another knock.
With a glance toward the upstairs landing, she ventured closer to the door and then stopped again. What if it was a mass murderer? Stories of Jack the Ripper and the fact the elusive monster was still out there undetected flew into Jane’s mind. Her mouth drained dry.
“Jane? It’s Adam. Are you in there?”
“Open the door, sweetheart,” Laura called. “The babies are getting grizzly.”
With a nervous laugh, Jane shook off her macabre contemplations and hurried to unlock the door. Her hands trembled, but she managed to throw back the bolt and open the door. “What are you doing here?” She smiled, relief turning her legs weak. “It’s getting dark. I thought we agreed I’d come to you at twelve tomorrow.”
Laura grinned and held out a dish covered with a tea cloth. “Here, take this so I can take one of the babies from Adam. Actors don’t make the best nannies.”
Adam shot a glare at his wife. “No? Then maybe I should spend more time at the theater instead of bouncing my children on my knee whenever their mother wants some respite.”
“Respite?” Laura snapped. “Only a man would consider baking, mending, or cleaning a respite.”
Laura took Margaret, the eldest of their daughters, from Adam’s arms and swept past Jane. “Take Sarah and then leave Adam outside. We’ll have a fine time without him.”
Jane looked at Adam and raised her eyebrows, knowing full well this banter was nothing out of the ordinary. There was barely a year between their children. Jane didn’t have to be an intellect to work out where their frequent making up was conducted.
She smiled at Adam. “You’d better come in and risk her wrath.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t have my fiery Laura any other way, you know that.”
Jane shook her head and stepped back, allowing Adam to enter the house. “She went into the drawing room. Why don’t you join her and I’ll see about getting the kettle on to boil.”
He planted a kiss on her cheek. “It might take something stronger than tea to calm Laura down after the afternoon she’s had with the children, but we can only hope.”
Giving him a playful shove toward the drawing room, Jane lifted a lamp from a side table and carried the covered dish through to the kitchen. Laying the dish and lamp on the table, she lifted the cloth, and the aroma of mutton stew and dumplings filled the air. She inhaled as unexpected thoughts of home flooded through her. Despite her need for independence, comfort food just might be the order of the day.
She pushed thoughts of her last conversation with Matthew far away and enthusiastically stoked the kitchen fire and added some logs until the flames burned brightly once more.
Laura’s raised voice drifted from the drawing room into the kitchen, only to be pierced by a playful shriek of laughter and a sharply gasped, “Adam!”
Jane’s heart swelled with fondness for her friends as she sent up a silent prayer that true love, rather than wasted love, might find itself to her, too, one day. Once the kettle
had boiled, she pulled out a wooden tray and set cups and saucers, tea, sugar, and milk upon it, before returning to the drawing room.
Jeannie had come downstairs to join them and now sat back on her heels on a rug in front of the fire, the children happily playing with some wooden blocks in front of her. Jane glanced at Adam and Laura and her cheeks warmed. They were locked in a somewhat passionate embrace on the settee, regardless of Jeannie or their children. Jane made her presence known with a not-so-subtle cough. Adam leapt away from Laura as though scolded, whereas Laura merely grinned.
Jane bit back a laugh. She knew very little of Laura’s life before Adam, but she had always had the impression it was Laura who taught Adam the ways of the world, rather than the other way around.
She set the tea tray down on a small table. “I’ve brought in some tea for now, but we can eat that delicious-smelling stew in the kitchen in a while, if you’d like? I’d suggest the dining room, but Papa clearly had little reason to entertain. The room is shrouded with cloth and blankets.”
Laura waved her hand dismissively. “Tea will be perfect for the time being.”
Jane poured the tea. “Why don’t you tell me why you have brought your adorable girls out into the cold instead of waiting for me to visit tomorrow.”
Laura lifted a hand to her hair and patted it in a gesture of what was quite clearly feigned nonchalance, her gaze casting about the room. Jane looked to Adam . . . who suddenly found the sight of his children incredibly fascinating.
Setting down the teapot, Jane fisted her hands on her hips. “Will one of you tell me what brought you here? You both have the distinct look of guilt about you.”
Laura exhaled heavily. “It’s nothing to do with me. I knew you and Jeannie would be fine here alone, but Adam, being Adam, insisted we come over sooner rather than later to make sure you and your neighbors know you are under our protection from here on in.”
Adam stared at his wife before shaking his head and facing Jane. His eyes were dark with concern. “It wasn’t quite the way Laura says, but I did want to make sure you were settled in and have everything you need. I know how people can be once they know there are young women living alone. I . . . we . . . just want to be here for you and Jeannie should you need us.”
Her One True Love Page 9
