Authors: A London Season
"Jane,” Anne said hurriedly, “Mr. Wrexham came to ask you to go driving with him."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Wrexham,” Jane said absently, “but I have some work to do. The light is just about right now. Some other time, perhaps.” She smiled graciously at the three of them and left the room with her swift, graceful stride.
Anne sighed. “I am sorry, Mr. Wrexham,” she began, but he forestalled her.
"Please do not apologize, Lady Rayleigh. I only came on the chance Lady Jane would be free.” He turned to the Marquis. “Since I am not to go driving, I wonder if I might have a word with you, Lord Rayleigh?"
"Certainly.” The Marquis rose courteously. “Let us go to the library.” As the tall, elegant figure of Julian Wrexham passed out of the room, the Marquis exchanged a meaningful glance with his wife.
He was back in less than half an hour. He closed the door behind him and stood regarding her gravely. “He wants to marry Jane,” he said.
Anne clasped her hands tightly. “Oh, Edward."
"I told him he had my permission to speak to her. He is coming back tomorrow morning."
Anne wet her lips. “He is the catch of the year. Do you think she'll accept him, Edward?"
"I don't know.” There was a pause, then he said slowly, “I am not going to say anything to her, Anne. Let Wrexham handle it. He'll do a better job of pleading for himself than I ever could. And she does seem to like him.” He looked at her questioningly and she nodded in response. She knew the last thing the Marquis wanted to do was to face Jane on this subject.
"That will be best,” she said placidly.
He walked across the room and sat down beside her. “If anyone can get her to the altar, he is the man,” he said somewhat hollowly. Anne smiled reassuringly up at him and he picked up her hand and kissed it. “Thank God for you, Anne,” he said fervently. “You are so
restful."
Mr. Wrexham returned the next morning as promised and Anne summoned Jane to the drawing room. Then she made an excuse and left them alone together in the large, silk-hung room.
Jane looked faintly startled and Mr. Wrexham crossed the room to stand before her. His hair shone silver in the light from the candles, lit against the dark, rainy day, and there was a look of tenderness in his eyes that she had not seen there before. “Don't look so bewildered, Lady Jane,” he said gently. “I hope you won't be angry, but I asked Lady Rayleigh for this opportunity to speak to you privately."
"Oh,” said Jane. She was looking at him warily, as a wild creature might look when it is finally cornered.
"Yes.” He looked at her for a moment and then said simply, “What I wish to say to you is that I find I'm in love with you."
"You mustn't say that.” Her hands were clasped tightly together in front of her.
"I realize that I had no right to speak to you before now,” he agreed gravely. “But your uncle gave me permission yesterday to address you."
Jane was very still. “Uncle Edward said you might marry me?” Her voice was toneless.
"He said I might ask you,” he corrected her gently. He took her cold hands into his and spoke persuasively. “I love you very much indeed, Lady Jane. You are the only woman in the world for me. If you should consent to be my wife, you would make me the happiest of men."
Jane's nostrils had stiffened, but otherwise her face had not changed. “I must confess you have taken me by surprise, Mr. Wrexham. I have not thought much about marriage. I am only seventeen, you know."
"And I am twenty-eight. There is a very reasonable age difference between us; and many girls are married at seventeen."
She looked up directly into his eyes, an odd, untouched reserve in her own. “But I don't know you very well."
He smiled. “That can be remedied."
"Yes, I suppose it can.” She transferred her gaze to the top button of his coat and removed her hands from his. “I am, of course, honored that you should make me this offer, Mr. Wrexham,” she said finally in a stilted voice. “However, I do not feel prepared to give you an answer at present."
A slight frown appeared between his fair brows. “I see.” There was a short silence, then he said with an anxiety that he made no attempt to conceal, “I hope you are not telling me I may not think of you."
"No, Mr. Wrexham,” Jane replied steadily. “I am saying that I should like to know you better before I answer such a—momentous—question."
He smiled. “I cannot quarrel with you there.” He appeared to have regained his composure. “I can only say, Lady Jane, that I have the greatest admiration and respect for you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I shall do everything in my power to please you,” he said, and bent his head and kissed her gently.
Jane stood quietly, and when he raised his head and looked down into her eyes, they were curiously calm. There was nothing on her face to indicate the vivid, mysterious resistance that he sensed deep within her.
It was that feeling of resistance that so disconcerted him and not Jane's plea for more time. Anne was aware of his distress and set herself to reassure him. Jane, she told him, was of all human creatures the one over whom habit had most power and novelty least. She could tolerate nothing she was not used to and the very fact that she was willing to give him an opportunity to pursue their friendship was very encouraging.
Mr. Wrexham grew more cheerful as he listened to Anne. He thought he began to understand Jane's attitude. He thought of her as one who had never thought much on the subject of love. She was, after all, very young. Doubtless her innocence had prevented her from understanding his attentions. She had been overpowered by the suddenness of a proposal so wholly unexpected.
Julian Wrexham was not a man to underrate his own attraction. It must follow, he thought, that with a little perseverance on his part he should succeed. Jane's initial fastidiousness did her no harm in his eyes. In fact, there was a new attraction in the idea of adding to his collection of choice objects a young lady who was not overly eager to accept the first offer made to her. It would be proper that the woman he might marry should behave in such a restrained fashion.
Jane went directly to her room after she had left Julian Wrexham. She crossed the polished floor to her favorite windowseat and sat down, drawing her legs up under her. It was raining and she stared out at the drenched garden, her face as bleak as the scene before her.
For almost the first time in her life, Jane was afraid. She had suspected for some time the Marquis's purpose in bringing her to London. Even Jane's armor had not been proof against the gossip and the innuendoes that had surrounded her at every social gathering she attended. It was quite clear that London expected her to marry and to marry well. It was now clear that her uncle expected the same.
Jane rested her forehead on her knees and closed her eyes. In the sudden dark the rain sounded even louder. She thought of her past years, years spent moored to a growing boy with golden eyes and streaked blond hair. Jane's whole life belonged to David. It had never occurred to her that she would ever be parted from him. Painful as they had been, their previous separations had been bearable because they were temporary. Whenever she had felt the emptiness of his absence most acutely, she had pretended that he was only in the next room; that she would be seeing him momentarily. And they had always written to each other.
Her months in London had jolted Jane out of the complacency of childhood and forced her to look beyond the present moment. For the first time she faced the future as an adult, and she was frightened.
Her uncle would never let her marry David. Jane had learned enough about the ways of the world to realize how the world would look upon such an alliance. And she was unsure of David's feelings. Would he want to marry her?
As she sat with her head bowed, listening to the rain, Jane was sure of only one thing. A future without David was impossible. “I should be so lonely,” she whispered to herself. “So terribly lonely."
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower....
—William Shakespeare
In Jane's mind there were two primary goals to aim for. First, she must not alarm her uncle or Anne by raising suspicions about her feelings. With this end in mind, she had been careful to refrain from talking about David. For this reason also she had not rejected Julian Wrexham outright. If she had, her uncle would have wanted to know why. All Jane wanted to do at this point was to buy time. In May, they would be going to Newmarket for the races and Jane would achieve her second goal. She had to see David.
For the first time in her life, Jane dissimulated. She accompanied Anne to Almacks and allowed Julian Wrexham to take her driving in the Park. She was pleasant, agreeable, and surprisingly social. She never mentioned David.
The Marquis was pleased, at first. But as this most unJane-like behavior continued, he began to be suspicious. “What's the matter with her?” he complained to Anne. “She agreed to join Wrexham's party at the opera tomorrow night. The opera! She hates music."
"Really, Edward,” Anne said with some amusement, “you are difficult to please. First you complain of Jane's unsociability. Now, when she has apparently mended her ways, you complain about that. Really, my dear, you must strive for more consistency."
The Marquis had just returned from White's and he looked very elegant in his well-cut coat of blue superfine. But there was a frown between his black brows. “The opera, Anne!” he said. “I don't think even David could get Jane to the opera."
There was dead silence as they looked at each other, each realizing the significance of that last remark. Then Lord Rayleigh said heavily, “I don't know what she's thinking, Anne, that's the trouble. Jane was always clear as water; not now.” He walked to the fireplace and stared into the grate. “She never mentions him. That isn't natural. Even if she were in love with Wrexham, she would not cease to mention David."
Anne looked at her hands, folded over the embroidery in her lap. “No,” she said.
"What am I to do?” He sounded suddenly tired.
Anne, who had come to understand Jane better than she was willing to admit, looked grave. “If she does indeed love David, I don't know what you can do, Edward. Jane is not an ordinary young girl, easily swayed by the opinion of her family. I would not do anything rash at the moment, however. If you sent David away, for example, you might end up precipitating exactly what it is you hope to avoid."
He sighed. “I know."
She smiled encouragingly. “Who knows, if Jane is willing to go to the opera with Mr. Wrexham, she might be more enthralled than we give her credit for."
"Let us hope so, Anne,” was his unenthusiastic reply.
It was May when the Rayleighs, with Jane and Julian Wrexham, returned to Heathfield. It was Anne's idea to invite Wrexham. She and Lord Rayleigh hoped that continued association with his undeniable charm would produce the desired result in Jane.
The Marquis normally had a houseful of company during race weeks, but Anne's condition caused him to cancel the usual houseparty. He had also decided, David or no David, to stay at Heathfield for the rest of the summer. The exertion of chaperoning Jane was too much for Anne at present.
The invitation to Julian Wrexham and his acceptance was as good as an engagement announcement. Jane did not care. All she wanted was to get home to David. She would have agreed to the whole Wrexham family if it got her what she wanted.
They arrived late in the afternoon. The Marquis expected Jane to run immediately to the stables, but she surprised him. She very graciously showed Julian Wrexham over the house and spent the evening after dinner talking to him in the drawing room. Lord Rayleigh began to wonder if he had misjudged the situation.
He would not have wondered if he had seen the note she had dispatched by one of the footmen. He delivered it to David's cottage after the dinner hour. It read simply, “Meet me tomorrow at nine o'clock at the lake. Jane."
She was at the stables before eight, missing David, who was out on the heath. She had planned it that way; she wanted to see him alone. Consequently, she reached the lake long before he did and sat staring at the water, her unquiet mind out of tune with the serenity of her surroundings.
David was scarcely less agitated. He had heard about Julian Wrexham; the family had not been in residence above an hour when hints of marriage were flying around the servants’ quarters. When David had gotten Jane's note, he feared she wanted to be the one to tell him about her engagement.
As he came out of the woods the sight of her slender back and black head clawed at his heart with sudden savage pain. His hands clenched momentarily. “Why the elaborate secrecy, Jane?” he finally managed to say.
At the sound of that deep, quiet voice the tension inside of Jane seemed to shatter. She jumped to her feet with the free, unhampered agility of a boy. “David!” Her eyes glowed as she moved toward him.
Involuntarily, he took a step toward her, then checked himself. “I should be supervising the exercise gallops,” he said doggedly, determined to get the worst over with. “Why did you drag me out here this morning?"
His words were hardly welcoming and the light died out of her eyes. She began to look anxious. “I had to see you alone, David. Something terrible has happened.” She swallowed. “They want me to get married. That's why they insisted I go to London with them."
He looked at her warily. “I know."
She stared at him in utter stupefaction. “You knew?"
"It was obvious, it seems, to everyone but you."
Temper flared in the aquamarine of her eyes. “You might have shared your wisdom with me."
"Why?"
"Why?” she repeated incredulously. “Because I have no intention of marrying one of those people, that's why. Because I had to spend a miserable couple of months being nice to people I despised. Because I missed you and missed you, and because I was afraid.” She stopped, bit her lip, and suddenly turned her back on him.