‘Don't be so foolish. You look perfectly presentable. Quite handsome, in fact! As for being clumsy — your dancing is far superior to that of a good few couple in this set, I may tell you that now.’
‘You're very kind. But then, you're always kind to me.’
‘You think so?’
‘Of course I do!’ Increasing the pressure on Jane's fingers, Owen smiled his gratitude. ‘When I lived here at Easton Hall, you were kindness itself. Then, when I left this place, you wrote to me. You kept the Hall and its inhabitants alive for me. I shall always be grateful that you took so much time to remember your poor cousin, sent so far away.’
‘My dearest Owen, that was no hardship. You know how much I love you!’ Jane's blue eyes were wide. ‘You know you were my favourite child. My infant protégé, my own special pet.’
‘I'm not an infant now,’ Owen began. ‘I — ’
‘No, indeed. You've grown up into a very fine young man. You're doing well in the world. We're all extremely proud of you.’
‘All? Even your father?’
‘Yes, indeed. In fact, he's so impressed by your industry and application that he talks of sending you to university, in order to take a doctor's degree. You could practise as a physician then.’
‘I see.’ Owen frowned. ‘Would he do this for my sake? Or because it would be more acceptable to Squire Darrow's pride, to have a physician in his family?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If I am obliged to earn my own living, your father would prefer me to follow a gentleman's profession. As opposed to a mere working man's trade.’
‘Owen! That idea is both unworthy of you, and unfair to my father. He thinks only of you. Of your present happiness, and future good.’
‘Does he?’
‘Certainly.’ Jane herself frowned now. ‘You mustn't be ungrateful,’ she murmured.
‘I hope I'm not.’ Chastened, Owen bit his lip. ‘I'm sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I'm behaving like a lout.’
‘A lout is something you could never be.’ Candidly, Jane met Owen's eyes. Again, she smiled. ‘I must dance with Charles Harding now,’ she said. ‘Why don't you go and rescue Rayner?’
‘I'm sorry?’
‘You could dance with Isabel Graham, perhaps.’
* * * *
The party was over. As the last few guests shrugged on their cloaks, as the last carriages were called, as these bowled away into the early hours of the morning, yawning servants began to clear up the debris and mess.
‘Did he say anything?’ Rubbing her tired eyes, Maria put her head round her sister's dressing room door. ‘Jane?’
‘Thank you, Susan. That will be all for tonight.’ As her maid bobbed then left the room, Jane frowned. ‘I wish you wouldn't talk like that,’ she murmured. ‘Not in front of the servants, anyway.’
‘I'm sorry.’ Maria plumped herself down on the other half of her sister's stool. ‘Well?’
‘He was very attentive. He complimented me excessively, both on my dancing and my looks. In fact, he was charm itself. But — ’
‘He did not speak.’ Pouting, Maria sniffed. ‘Stupid man.’
‘Maria, you must not call Charles stupid!’
‘If the cap seems to fit — ’
‘Maria!’
‘We all watched you dance with Owen.’ Plucking at a ribbon in her bodice, Maria sniffed again. ‘Well, all I can say is, if I were Charles Harding, and if I had seen you dancing with a young, handsome gentleman whose admiration was so obvious that even a child might have discerned it, I would have made sure of my prize tonight.’
‘Maria, what can you mean?’
‘Don't be deliberately obtuse. The whole room was buzzing with it!’ Maria stood up. ‘So much so that I would have thought the voice of suspicion might have whispered something into even Mr Harding's half–deaf ears!’
* * * *
Before retiring to bed, Jane had kissed Owen goodnight. The warmth of that kiss, the perfume of her breath, and the awareness of her body so close to his had disturbed him so much that he felt light–headed at the mere recollection of it.
Standing on the terrace, leaning on the balustrade, he sighed. For the first time in his life, he was aware of a delicious pain, which was no pain at all. Of a pleasant ache which did not gripe, but rather soothed instead.
Could this be how it felt to fall in love? Owen thought it more than likely. He sighed again. He went to bed thinking Charles Harding was a very lucky man.
The following morning, during a very late breakfast, a note was brought in for Jane. In it, Charles Harding presented his compliments to her and to her family, and told her that the party had been charming. Both he and his parents had enjoyed themselves very much indeed.
He was writing now to inform Jane that, unfortunately, news had arrived that morning which obliged the family to make a short visit to a relation in the North of England. The Hardings would leave Warwickshire today, but hoped to be back by the end of the month, when Charles would look forward to seeing Jane again. Until that time, he was hers most affectionately, etc, etc.
Handing Rebecca the note, Jane shrugged.
Reading over her mother's shoulder, Maria sighed. ‘Great booby,’ she muttered.
‘I beg your pardon?’ murmured Rebecca, who was still reading.
‘Nothing, Mama.’ Maria shook her head. ‘Well, no one can say he lacked opportunity. But the whole county will agree he lacked sense.’
* * * *
Sitting at the other end of the table, where Rayner was boring him with tales of undergraduate life, Owen had heard very little of this exchange. Later, however, meeting his cousin walking in the rose garden, he ventured to speak to her. ‘Is anything amiss?’ he enquired.
‘What did you say?’ Narrowing her eyes against the bright sunshine, for she had forgotten to collect her parasol, Jane looked up at him. ‘I'm sorry, Owen?’
‘Is something the matter?’ Sitting down on a convenient bench, Owen did not know if he wanted Jane to sit beside him, or go on her way. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘No, of course not.’ Sitting down, Jane began to twist a ring on her little finger, round and round and round. She stared fixedly into the middle distance. ‘Why should there be?’
‘When that note was brought in at breakfast time, I wondered if its contents had alarmed you. After reading it, you looked rather upset.’
‘On the contrary. I was not upset at all. You imagined that.’
‘Oh.’ Clasping his hands before him, Owen looked down at the ground.
Although Jane was sitting at the other end of the bench, a good twelve inches away from him, Owen found he was very conscious of her now. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the hem of her gown. He could discern the thread of silver in the weave which, glinting in the sunlight, dazzled him. Mesmerised him, in fact.
Suddenly, urgently, he needed to know. So he cleared his throat, and asked her. ‘Have you become engaged to Mr Harding?’ he enquired.
‘No, I have not.’ Irritably, Jane plucked at the lace on her sleeve. ‘I'm not engaged to anyone.’
‘Do you expect to be?’
‘I suppose so. In due course.’
‘Do — do you love him?’
‘Does that matter?’ Jane turned, to look her cousin full in the face. ‘It would be a splendid match for me! It would — ’
‘This splendid match. Do you desire it?’
‘Why should I not?’ Jane shrugged. ‘I like Charles, certainly. More to the point, my parents like him, too. As for his parents — I'm sure they would welcome the connection unreservedly.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I'm young. I'm healthy. When I marry, my father will give me twenty thousand pounds.’
‘I see.’ Owen held his cousin's gaze. ‘Jane, are you being forced into this?’
‘Of course not!’ Jane shrugged. ‘My parents merely wish me to be happy. I, in turn, feel I owe them — ’
‘Oh, Jane!�
�� Reaching for his cousin's hand, Owen held it. ‘Don't marry him unless you like him!’
‘I do like him! I told you so just now. I — ’
‘But you don't love him. Does he love you?’
‘He — I don't think he even considers — ’
‘You can't possibly marry a man who does not love you!’ Owen's grip became stronger. ‘A woman about to become engaged should look happy!’ he cried. ‘There should be a lightness in her step. A sparkle in her eyes. Her complexion should glow! But when you're with Charles Harding, you look as miserable as sin.’
‘That's not true. I — ’
‘I watched you last night,’ continued Owen, feverishly. ‘After we danced together, I observed you narrowly.’
‘Did you, indeed?’
‘Yes, I did!’ Owen was practically crushing Jane's fingers. ‘Going down the set with me, you were merry. You laughed and smiled. You even teased me a little — though kindly, I'll agree. But when you danced with Charles Harding, you were solemnity itself. You never spoke a word to him, you — ’
‘That was because I was concentrating on the dance, which was a new one. I needed all my wits about me, to — ’
‘I was so surprised I asked Isabel why you should look so grave.’
‘What did she say?’
‘That I would look grave myself, if I were obliged to stand up with the greatest bore in all creation, who would glare and rebuke me if I put a single foot wrong.’
‘I see.’ Jane sighed. ‘Isabel does not like Charles.’
‘So it would seem. Does anybody?’
‘Don't! Please, Owen — don't talk like this!’ Jane blinked, then began to sniff. Searching for a pocket handkerchief, rummaging up her sleeves, on the bench and in her bag, she happened to edge a little nearer to her cousin – who, sorry for upsetting her, and anxious to offer comfort, slipped his arm around her waist.
She laid her head on his shoulder. Then, without quite understanding why, or how it came about, she raised her face to his.
His head spun. His pulse raced, and his heart thumped against his ribcage so hard that it hurt. Looking into her eyes, he saw himself reflected there. Last night, she had told him she loved him...
Her lips looked so soft, so rosy red that they reminded him of that special Turkish sweetmeat, of which his aunt had recently become inordinately fond. Might his cousin's lips taste of roses, too?
He had to know. So now, taking her in his arms, he kissed her.
To his great surprise, she let him hold her. She even kissed him back. But then, a moment later, she pulled away. ‘I'm so sorry,’ she began, her colour high. ‘I really don't know — ’
‘It was my fault.’ Blushing furiously, Owen rubbed his hot face. ‘Please forgive me. Believe me when I say I didn't mean to do that.’
‘Didn't you?’
‘No! Well — I suppose I did. But you mustn't think I meant any harm. I just wanted to — ’
‘I wanted you to kiss me.’ Now, Jane looked deep into his eyes. ‘I wanted to know how it felt.’
‘Oh.’ Hardly able to believe what he was hearing, Owen stared at her. ‘How did it feel?’
‘I don't know the words to describe it. Perhaps there aren't any. Owen?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you love me, too?’
‘I — I think I must.’ As Owen thought about it, he realised it was true. He wondered how he could have been so foolish. So deliberately blind to the obvious, so obtuse. ‘What I do know,’ he said slowly, painfully, as haltingly as a lame man learning to walk again, ‘is that if you married Charles Harding, I should die of grief.’
‘What shall we do?’
‘I don't know.’ Confused and perplexed indeed, for everything was happening so fast that he felt sick and dizzy, Owen shook his head. ‘If we tell your father, he will kill me.’
‘Don't be absurd! He wouldn't even think of such a thing.’
‘Maybe not. But he would hardly be pleased to learn you intend to give up all thought of Charles Harding, and marry Owen Morgan instead.’
‘But I haven't said I'll marry you. I — ’
‘Of course you haven't. You would not be so foolish.’ Now, his head clearing a little, Owen stood up. He began to pace up and down, like a barrister–at–law. ‘Let us consider the relative merits of Mr Harding and Mr Morgan,’ he began. ‘First, Mr Harding. Personable, healthy and rich, he is a very fine young man. He is also the sole heir to a valuable, unencumbered estate in the English Midlands.
‘As for Mr Morgan — well, he is poor. His prospects are not good, for his happiness and prosperity depend upon the goodwill of two uncles. One is a rich man, who does not like him. The other is a man whose ability to procure Owen Morgan's advancement lags far behind his desire to accomplish it.’
‘What nonsense you talk.’ Jane herself stood up. ‘Owen, do you wish to marry me?’
‘I — ’
‘Set aside all that stuff about your poverty and dependence. Leave my expectations and position in society out of the calculation. Take my hands in yours. Do you want me?’
‘I do.’ Owen looked into her eyes. ‘I love you with all my heart,’ he whispered. ‘I always have, and I always will. I would die for you.’
‘There'll be no need for that.’ Standing on tiptoe, Jane kissed him. ‘There it is, then. I shall speak to my father today.’
‘Should I not talk to him first?’
‘I think that might be just a little unwise.’ Thoughtfully, Jane shrugged. ‘Your uncle is a just and honourable man — but it's a fact that he has no great affection for you.’
‘When will you go to see him?’
‘Early this evening, after tea. He is usually at leisure then.’
‘So the storm will break about seven o'clock. At a quarter past, I shall be summoned to his honour's council chamber. There, I shall be told to leave his house at once, never to return.’
‘My dear Owen! Don't be so foolish.’
‘You're the fool. Do you honestly imagine he will greet your revelations with delight?’
‘He loves me dearly. Why should he seek to destroy my happiness?’
‘He won't see it as destroying your happiness. His concern will be to prevent you from throwing yourself away.’ Sorrowfully, for he could see the enterprise was doomed entirely, Owen shook his head. ‘Well,’ he murmured, ‘we have the rest of the morning, at any rate. Shall we go for a walk?’
‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘Let's. Show me the places you loved as a child. Take me where you and Rayner used to play.’
* * * *
So Jane and Owen walked in the woods, strolled along the margins of the lake, and dawdled across the park. Between kisses, they made plans. Jane saw no reason why her fortune should not be shared with Owen. Secure in the certain knowledge that she was her father's favourite child, she had no reason to believe he would deny her anything.
‘I shall go and sit with my aunt,’ said Owen, when they parted after tea, both having made rather lame excuses for missing dinner, so already in the squire's black books. ‘My darling, listen to me — is it wise to talk to him this evening? He's already annoyed with me.’
‘Don't be so faint–hearted.’ Taking advantage of the darkness in the corridor outside her father's study, Jane kissed her lover on the lips. ‘Where's my stout little fellow, who could climb any tree in the park? Who could swim across the lake and jump the ha–ha, like a little mountain goat?’
* * * *
As always, Ellis was very pleased to see Jane. Drawing up his daughter's usual chair, he sat down again himself. ‘Is this a merely social call?’ he enquired, lighting his pipe and puffing contentedly.
‘Not exactly.’ Jane smiled. ‘Sir, I have reason to suppose that you will shortly receive a visit from a gentleman, who has made his addresses to me.’
‘I see.’ Ellis smiled, too. ‘Have you discussed this with your mother?’ he enquired.
‘No, sir. I thought it better to speak to
you first. If you approve of the business, then I will feel authorised to tell Mama.’
Ellis looked at her. For a moment, regret that he must shortly lose her clouded his features. But then he smiled again. ‘My dearest child,’ he began, ‘I shall not deny that it will be most painful for me to give your hand in marriage to any man. But Mr Harding is a fine young gentleman — ’
‘He is indeed.’ Reaching out to him, Jane took her father's hand in hers. ‘But, sir — we are not discussing Mr Harding. It is of Mr Morgan that I wish to speak tonight.’
‘Owen?’ Ellis gaped at her. ‘My dear child, what are you saying?’
‘Merely this.’ Jane looked into her father's eyes. ‘Since Owen first came to this house, since he was just a little child, we have been friends. Then he went away — but while he was living in South Wales, we corresponded regularly. We told each other our hopes and schemes. We opened our hearts — ’
‘You did what?’ Ellis's pale face darkened. ‘I know you wrote to the boy,’ he muttered. ‘But in all my born days, I never imagined you discussed — ’
‘Sir, there was no impropriety!’ Jane's expression was all candour, and her eyes were wide. ‘My mother herself read my cousin's letters to me. Every single one! I wrote to Owen in order to keep him informed of the doings of this family. As Mama agreed it was proper I should.
‘My dear sir — Owen has been precious to me from the time he was a child. When I saw him again, I felt I was reunited with a cousin — almost a brother, in fact — and a friend. But these past few days have shown us that we feel more than mere friendship. Today, we declared ourselves, admitted to each other that we have fallen in love. So, since we have both attained years of discretion, we wish to marry.’
‘This is the work of a few days?’ As Jane spoke, Ellis had grown pale again. But now, his cheeks were rekindled by the dull red of anger. ‘This creature has wormed his way into your affections in a matter of days? My dear Jane, you must have run mad. A person who has nothing to recommend him — no fortune, no prospects, no talents — ’
‘No talents?’ Jane herself grew angry then. ‘Sir, how can you say such a thing? How can you be so dismissive, so unkind, so cruelly — ’
‘Does Owen know the extent of your fortune?’ interrupted Ellis, testily.
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