“No. I meant because you shall be with fine ladies attending fancy balls. I would probably cast up my accounts.” Julia paused, the hairbrush caught in her tangles.
“You would not,” Jane assured her sister.
“You are braver than I,” Julia said with a shudder. She held the brush suspended above her head as she worked loose the tangles.
“But Father said we can return to Bath before Easter.” Julia said. “And meet you here, if not in London. I shall miss you so. We shall be apart so long!”
“Time shall fly,” Jane said.
“For you, no doubt,” Julia pouted. She pulled on the brush to no avail. It was stuck fast within her curls.
Jane could stand it no longer. She reached for the hairbrush. “Let me.” She offered, thinking it would be the last time she would brush her little sister’s hair for quite a while.
“The winter shall be interminable,” Julia continued. “But Father says that next summer, I might join the picnics in Bath if I am very proper and well-behaved,” she said brightening somewhat.
“Then I am sure you shall be proper,” Jane replied, as she turned her sister away from her so she could see her hair properly. It was a complete rat’s nest. “What have you been doing with this hair? Never mind. Give me that.” She took the hairbrush from her sister and carefully began to separate the curls.
“I wish I was going to London,” Julia said, sighing wistfully. “I would imagine there would be so much to paint.”
Jane laughed. “And you do not have enough to paint here?”
“I suppose,” Julia said.
“Do you not remember London?” Jane asked. “We went there as children.” When Mother was alive, Jane thought, but she did not mention their mother. There was no use to bring up such sadness. Julia had been only a child when she passed. Jane knew Julia hardly remembered their mother. Even Jane’s memories were starting to fade, which was why she kept Mother’s pearls with her always; so she would never forget.
Julia attempted to glance over her shoulder as Jane brushed her hair. “I do remember a bit of London.” She wrinkled her nose. “I remember the smell,” she said, and Jane laughed.
“All the more reason to summer in Bath,” Jane said with a wistful smile, thinking that maybe it would be this year that she would find a husband of her own.
“Oh Jane,” Julia said, twisting to look at her while Jane was attempting to brush her thick mop of hair. “I do hope you find a handsome beau. How can you do otherwise with Lady Charlotte and Lady Amelia?” Julia sighed.
“I am afraid I shall be quite out of my depth,” Jane admitted, surprised that her sister had followed her thoughts so well. “They are both ladies and I...” Jane paused to untangle a particularly stubborn hank of hair, trying to think how to put into words her thoughts when they were as unruly as her sister’s curls.
“You will be beautiful and charming,” Julia said, reaching up to help. “I know you shall. You shall find the most handsome husband of them all.”
“Looks are not everything, Julia,” Jane said swatting her sister’s hands away as Julia was only making the tangles worse. “I only wish to enjoy the company of my new found friends. If I were to encounter a suitor, I would hope to find a kind and gentle man. If he has but a fraction of Father’s integrity, then I shall be most lucky.” Jane finished her sister’s hair and tied the curls with a blue ribbon from her own store.
“And if he’s handsome, luckier still.” Julia added reaching up to feel the ribbon and breaking into a wide smile. “Thank you. That feels much better.”
“You must remember to braid your hair at night,” Jane said, “then it will not be so tangled in the morning.”
“I shall,” Julia said hugging her sister again.
Jane laughed at her little sister’s enthusiasm as Julia turned toward the door, likely going back to her painting.
“Do not forget,” Jane admonished.
“I won’t.” Julia paused to look back at her. “And you must remember what Mother always said,” she admonished.
“What is that?” Jane asked, her face a question. She did not think Julia remembered much about Mother.
“Trust your heart, and you shall never be unhappy.” Julia said.
Jane shook her head and smiled at her little sister. “I shall,” she promised.
“And please, Jane, tell me when you are ready to leave. I shall want to say goodbye.”
“Is that not what we are doing now?” Jane teased.
“Well, yes. But I shall want to say good bye again. I shall be frightfully lonely without you.” Julia’s face knotted in a frown and she looked about ready to cry. If she started, Jane was sure she would follow, and this was not a sad occasion; it was a happy one, but right now, it was difficult.
Jane put a smile on her face. She needed to hold her emotions together and be strong for Julia. “I shall write to you, and we will be back together before you know it,” she said. “And if you plan to come down to the sitting room to say good bye, you should wash your face. You have a bit of paint, just there.” Jane touched her sister on the nose. “If you get paint on the dress Father just had made for you, he will be cross.”
“He shan’t mind.” Julia giggled.
Perhaps not, Jane thought. Their father always indulged Julia’s painting.
“I shall be cross then.” Jane amended.
“I shall change directly, Lady Jane,” Julia teased with a mocking curtsey. In the next moment, she had skipped out of the room, leaving her sister smiling and shaking her head as she watched her go.
Jane sat down in front of the glass and tidied her own long brown hair into a snug braid that would be comfortable for traveling. Although Jane had risen early, she was running out of time before joining her family in the dining room for breakfast.
Mrs. Carron, had been Mother’s maid, and the elder woman had stiff fingers in the morning. Jane had wanted to save her the trouble of fixing her hair when it would be covered by a bonnet throughout her trip, but if Jane did not hurry Mrs. Carron would probably take over anyway. She wanted Mrs. Carron to be surprised to see Jane all prepared for the day without any assistance. Besides, the action helped to calm her. She liked to be busy when she was nervous.
Relax, Jane. She reassured herself. People travel in carriages every day without mishap. There is nothing to fear. But even in her thoughts, the words lacked conviction. Things could happen, like they had done to her mother. Jane’s most beautiful mother had been alive one moment and the next her carriage had overturned and claimed her life along with Jane’s unborn baby brother. Jane wished more than anything for the actual journey to be over with, and she had not yet even left her own room. She took a breath and tried to put her anxiety out of her mind.
Most carriages did not crash. She would be safe. Her father had chosen the best horses and the best driver to take her to Kennett Park, and she knew Mrs. Poppy well. The elder woman was to travel with Jane to the Keegain estate and then on to London to visit her eldest son, Michael, and do some shopping in Town before she returned to her own home for Christmas.
Mrs. Poppy was well known to Jane as a chaperone and companion. She traveled with her own daughters quite often and without fail. Besides, it was less than a day’s ride. Jane wished Constance Poppy was traveling with her mother. She and Connie had always gotten on, and Jane would appreciate the companionship to calm her nerves.
Everything would be fine, Jane told herself, but she could not quite dismiss the anxiety that plagued her whenever she embarked upon a journey. She would not sit easy until she reached her destination.
She would actually rather ride. Connie was an excellent horsewoman and always gave Jane such good tips to keep her seat. Jane enjoyed riding. She was not the horsewoman the women of the Poppy family were, but she was competent. When she was in control of her horse, travel did not seem so nerve-racking, but ladies could not ride horseback across the countryside. Jane had to put herself in the hands of the drive
r and his wretched wheeled box.
Jane could hear the service bells ringing down the hallway as she finished braiding her hair. If her father was not already awake and downstairs, he soon would be. Jane knew she couldn’t hide in her room forever. She couldn’t prevent what was about to happen, even if she wanted to; which she did not.
As much as she looked forward to the experience, she never wanted to go anywhere at all that required a carriage ride. “It would be much easier if they would come here, instead of my having to go to them,” she muttered and rose, shaking out her skirts, trying to ignore the nervous flutters in the pit of her stomach.
She reminded herself that this was a wonderful opportunity that the Dowager Lady Keegain was offering her. Especially given she did not know the family well, only Lady Charlotte. Her sisters Jane knew only in passing. She knew Lady Charlotte had an older brother as well, Randolph Keening, the Earl of Keegain, but Jane had not met him either.
She rather wished Mrs. Carron were coming with her, just to have a familiar face nearby, but the maid was elderly. The Dowager Keegain would have someone to do Jane’s hair and help her with dressing. Mrs. Carron would not be needed, nor would she have wished to go on the trip. The elderly maid would be happier here in her own home with Father and Julia.
With another deep breath, Jane smoothed her light brown traveling dress a final time, thinking that it would be comfortable enough in the carriage: one small blessing in what was sure to be a difficult day.
She looked at herself in the glass one last time. “It shall be an adventure,” she told herself firmly. Then with one last appraising look at her appearance, she strode purposely out of the room.
3
The trip was mercifully uneventful, and Mrs. Poppy had gone to dozing in the corner of the carriage. Jane stared out the window at the light misting of snow dusting the ground in the failing light. She was thankful that they were almost there.
The roads were not yet slick, but she had worried lest they should become so. Riding in a carriage was bad enough; riding in the snow was another thing altogether. At least most of the guests planned to stay at the manor at the earl’s invitation. Jane would not need to travel anywhere again until it was time to leave.
Satisfied that she had indeed made the trip safely after all, Jane allowed herself to feel the excitement of what was to come. This was an adventure, a delightful one filled with all manner of possibilities.
Next to her Mrs. Poppy awoke with a start.
“We are almost there,” she told the older woman.
They both peered out the window of the carriage.
“Isn’t it grand?” Mrs. Poppy said with a voice of awe.
Jane had to agree. There, in the distance, she kept catching glimpses through the trees of a massive stone house. As they came around a sharp bend, the carriage left the wood behind and there was Kennett Park in all its glory. What she saw left Jane absolutely mesmerized. The vast beauty of the manor house robbed her of speech.
It was rectangular in shape with four floors and several outbuildings. From the lane she could see the stable and glimpse the lake, just beyond the fields, tucked behind the house. Was that a boat house? She imagined the view from the upper floors of the manor would be spectacular.
Jane and Mrs. Poppy rode up a drive of round river stones, which made the carriage rattle noisily as they reached the front of the house. The horses clip-clopped along the long curved drive, coming to a halt just shy of the front steps. There they would await grooms to take them to their warm stalls.
Jane craned her neck to see balconies dotting the front of the manor house denoting the larger, finer rooms where important guests stayed. The spaces between the balconies showed plainer windows, indicating rooms for regular visitors or relatives on the outer fringes of the family. This would likely be where she would stay. Stately rooms would be for reserved for distinguished guests. After all, she was only a casual acquaintance of the earl’s younger sister, Lady Charlotte.
As the footman handed her out of the carriage, Jane stood transfixed by the elegant estate. Griffins stood watch over the ornate stone doorway, their cold stone eyes surveying everything and everyone who approached. They were fierce and should have been frightening, she realized, but Jane was strangely pleased with them. They seemed to be keeping watch. It really was a grand old house with a stately charm.
In that moment, Lady Charlotte appeared under the arch of the doorway, her face lighting up with pleasure as she saw Jane. Charlotte squealed and rushed to hug her friend, catching her hands and sizing up her person.
“Oh, Jane! I’m so glad you could come. Helen and I said we would wait up for you if you were late, but Mother forbade it. She said we needed our beauty sleep.”
Helen, Jane remembered was one of Charlotte’s sisters.
“Well, you do,” said a slender girl who came up behind Lady Charlotte. In the moment, Jane could not remember which sister she was, Helen or Alice.
“I simply cannot wait for the ball,” Charlotte gushed. “Everyone will be here, absolutely everyone. Oh, Jane I could just die with the anticipation.”
The other girl turned up her nose and Jane realized that she was Lady Alice, the younger sister, who was not yet out. To have such a party in one’s own home and not be allowed to attend, must be quite trying, Jane thought. She resolved to be especially kind to the younger girl.
Without stopping to think about it, Jane stood on tiptoes to take one of the cases being handed down by the carriage driver when another set of arms reached up and took it for her, right over her head. She turned, expecting to find a servant, only to have her first sight of the Earl of Keegain. It was surely he.
Jane saw the family resemblance to Lady Charlotte immediately, and surely no servant would wear such fine garments. His overcoat was crafted from the finest gray wool. Her breath caught in her throat. Lord Keegain was not much taller than she was, which was surprising, since Jane was certainly not a tall woman. They were so much the same height that she could look directly into his beautiful hazel eyes. He had the longest lashes she had ever seen, except of course for Lady Charlotte. His cheerful smile drew her instantly.
The earl was not as she had been led to believe by his sisters. It occurred to Jane belatedly that siblings were not always accurate in their estimations of their brothers and sisters. By Lady Charlotte’s descriptions, Lord Keegain was dowdy and slow. Jane had taken that to mean he would not likely be handsome, and yet she found him endearingly so.
She wondered what other details Charlotte had omitted, or appraised entirely wrong. She caught her breath, stepping out of his way, watching as the earl took her case and handed it to the footman, who said, quietly, “I will take that, my lord.”
Jane realized she had already made a social gaffe. She should have allowed the footman to do his job, but she could not be concerned with that, not when such a gentleman stood by her side.
Lord Keegain was several years older than his sisters, Jane remembered, though he did not look it. What else had Lady Charlotte said… that he kept to himself, with his books and figures? His young sister said that Lord Keegain was quite the dullard, but how could Jane trust such outlandish statements when the earl was obviously not dowdy, nor did he seem particularly slow. There was a spark in his eyes that belayed the sharp mind behind them.
The earl caught her staring and smiled, sending a warm thrill through her. He returned her gaze, studying her as if he were taking an investigation for the Crown. Jane blushed and turned away, though she could still feel his eyes upon her as if they could somehow touch her very soul.
“Jane, you must meet my brother.” Lady Charlotte said, turning to make introductions.
Jane curtseyed, positive that her cheeks were flaming crimson as the earl bent over her gloved hand. It was impossible of course, but she could swear she felt his kiss sear her through the soft leather of her kid gloves. For a moment she couldn’t breathe and had to look away although the warmth of his hand
lingered long after he released her fingers.
Her face still felt warm, the remnants of the blush continuing. Perhaps he would just think her cheeks were red from the cold.
“Welcome to Kennett Park, Miss Bellevue. I do hope you enjoy your stay,” the earl said smoothly.
His voice was everything she had expected, deep with silken tones that washed over her, leaving her insides melting. Perfection. He was perfection. How had Lady Charlotte not told her so?
Their gaze caught and held. Jane’s heart was racing. She knew in that moment that she most certainly would enjoy her visit. In fact, if he would have her, she would marry this man. She grinned at the thought.
The earl turned away, speaking briefly to the footman about which rooms they would occupy. How silly she must appear to convey such emotion so openly upon their first meeting. She attempted to gather her wits, but her face simply would not co-operate. Surely, Lady Charlotte would understand and be glad for her.
Jane turned to share these things with her friend, and saw for the first time, the second figure upon the step beside Lady Alice. The tall blonde woman projected an air of elegance and refinement; her expression cool and implacable.
“Dearest, do come in out of the cold,” she said.
Her words were addressed to Lord Keegain, but Jane’s heart dropped as Lady Charlotte hurried into the house with Jane in tow. She turned to introduce the unknown lady, for a lady she most certainly was. “Jane, this is Lady Margret Fairfax, my brother’s intended,” Lady Charlotte said.
There it was. In the space of less than a dozen words, Jane’s world had ended. Her smile faltered. Somehow she managed to curtsey properly, but all the words of welcome became a buzz in her ears as the earl took the arm of his betrothed and led her into the house leaving Jane feeling bereft.
Whatever Charlotte said as she drew her into the house, Jane never so much as heard. How could she, when in the space of mere minutes she had found the very thing that had made her world complete, only to lose him in the next instant?
Winning Lady Jane: A Christmas Regency Romance (Ladies of Bath Book 0) Page 2
