Lady Jane (19 page)

Jaspar leaned forward at that moment and spoke briefly, and very quietly, into the boy’s ear. Clinton turned, regarded him silently for a moment and then nodded. Then, without hesitation, he marched across the carpet, held out his hand to Mr. Quint, and said, “Good morning, sir,” very politely. He then came back to Jaspar and said in a whisper that carried clearly over the entire room, “Why don’t
you
squeak in the middle when you bend?”

Nurse’s timely arrival saved Jaspar the necessity of attempting an answer and Jane from the strong hysterics she felt were imminent. Clinton requested Lord Jaspar to please explain to his mama his problem regarding a pony and come again tomorrow to report on any progress, said “Good-bye, Mr. Quint” in a tone of unabashed finality and allowed himself to be led away.

In the silence following his exit Mr. Quint could be heard audibly grinding his teeth, while Jaspar stared with concentration at a portrait of a Payton ancestress that hung over the mantel, and Jane set several stitches into her embroidery in what turned out to be a random, and totally unsuitable way.

Remembering the scene now she could smile, but Lady Stanier’s remarks stayed very much in her mind, being an aspect of the situation to which she had given no thought heretofore. She spent a great deal of time with her son, fierce in her determination to make him into a man his father would have been proud of. This was the first time it had entered her mind that her efforts might not be enough. Now she saw that the boy was smothered in feminine attention, the only male in his life being Crews. Of course Crews adored the boy, but a servant-master relationship was not a healthy one for a little boy who could get his own way by simply being in the dominant position despite his size and youth.

“Dearest, I hope I have not distressed you,” said Lady Stanier, seeing Jane’s brows drawn together in a frown.

“Of course you have not! It is only that I had not thought of things in that light before.”

“Well, there is time still,” replied Lady Stanier comfortably, “but it is something I felt you should open your mind to. You need to go about more—meet more people. The sorts of affairs I take you to are too—too—staid—too many elderly people. You need to be in the swim of things with people your own age.”

“Prospective fathers, do you mean?” Jane asked with a grin.

“Well—you could put it that way. In line with that, and just to make the first step easier for you, I have decided to have a party. A dancing party. Not so grand as a real ball, for that would be too much work and less pleasure. Just something small—say twenty or so couples to stand up after dinner and a light collation at midnight. I’ll ask only the most dashing and eligible young men and the liveliest girls and we shall go on delightfully! Of course, the Montmorencys will receive a card, and I’ll even put myself out to be pleasant to the dragon mother. Now—is that not magnanimous of me?”

“I would not have you do so for my sake—I mean—if you think I look upon Lord Jaspar as—as—or he—” Jane floundered to a halt.

“I won’t think anything at all, I promise you, unless you tell me I may do so. After all, he will be only one among many young men whom you may find far more attractive. Oh, I can see you now, going from one partner to the next! Truly, Jane, there is no woman in London to hold a candle to you!” Lady Stanier sighed happily in anticipation.

Jane sighed herself, but the picture she could see in her mind did not include any of those engaging young men who filled Lady Stanier’s vision. There was only one man, a puzzling, enigmatic smile on his lips. The others were mere blurs in the background. Then she mentally shook herself to dispel the vision. Naturally, I would only see him, she scolded herself, since he’s the only one I know! I shouldn’t really go along with Aunt’s plan in any case. I will be terrified and behave like a goose, and stumble all over my partner’s feet and spill things. As she built up this nightmare it became very real to her and she resolved to tell Lady Stanier at once that she must not go ahead with any plans that included Jane, for she knew it would be unbearably tedious.

Then, irrationally, she began thinking of what she might wear to this tedious affair. Yellow, she thought, pale lemony yellow sarcenet and the heavenly topazes left to her by Mother Payton.

19

Jaspar arrived a
quarter of an hour earlier than his usual visiting time the following morning.

“I’ve come to deliver my report to your son at his request,” he said, turning from the fireplace and advancing to meet her as she entered the drawing room looking somewhat flustered. She had been hastily summoned from the back drawing room where she was conferring with Betty Crews on menus, and had had no time to prepare herself for the meeting.

“Your—report? But what have you to report? We’ve not discussed it at all!”

“Exactly why I’ve come along early—before that tiresome Quint or my equally tiresome sister could distract you. Now, my thoughts on the matter are as follows: one, the boy wants to ride, two, he should be allowed to do so.”

“You surely cannot be serious about this?” she protested.

“On the contrary. I’m very serious. So is the lad.”

“But—I—I don’t want him to ride—ever!” she said flatly.

“If you’ll forgive me, I think you’re being most unwise.”

“You don’t understand!”

“I think I do,” he said quietly, “it’s because of what happened to his father. Yes?” Jane dropped her eyes and stood clasping her hands together so hard the knuckles showed white. He reached for them and held them enfolded in his own. “That was an accident, and accidents do happen. But you can’t wrap the boy in cotton wool and try to protect him from life. I don’t think his father would want that for him. Would he be proud of a lily-livered drawing-room dandy, afraid of draughts and dark streets? Would you?”

“He’s too young—still a baby, really,” she whispered one last protest, for she knew he was right.

“Not if he’s held on by a groom and walked about on a very gentle, biddable sort of animal. I happen to know just such a one, and if you are agreeable, I thought we might ride over to see it I’ll take the boy up in front of me—just to give him a taste of the saddle and the height before we get there. I’ll hold him very carefully, no fear, there won’t be any danger.”

She raised her eyes at last to find him regarding her with so much warmth and understanding it bewildered her. Surely a human being of so much sensitivity and sympathy could not also be capable of betraying her past to Society just to afford himself malicious amusement?

“Why—why are you doing this?” she asked slowly.

“Because I like your son very much. He’s just the sort of little boy I would want. And I want him to like me because it will be a point in my favour in his mother’s eyes. It has become very necessary for me to get back into his mother’s good graces,” he added with that devastating candour that always took her by surprise.

“B-b-back?” she stuttered, fearful, in spite of all that had just passed, that he was referring subtly to their meeting before the mirror so many years ago.

“Well, perhaps that’s the wrong word. I suspect that I was never in them—your good graces, I mean. But I want to be very much.” He pressed the hands he still held, and she, remembering where they were, flushed and tried to draw them away, but he would not release them. He bent closer to her, his voice became soft and he spoke slowly. “I don’t like that strange way you look at me sometimes, as though you disliked me or are frightened of me. I want to dispel that look. I
want
to see you happy—laughing—your eyes all lit up and sparkling like sherry wine.” His voice trailed off to a whisper, and she, caught up in the slow rhythm, gazed up as though hypnotized, her body filled with a sort of languor.

What might have happened they were destined not to know for at that moment Clinton, followed by a wildly excited Wellington, erupted into the room. Clinton ran straight to Jaspar and grasped him urgently by the knee.

“Did you explain it to her, sir? Did you tell her how important it is?” he demanded in his high, piping treble. Wellington seemed to be demanding an answer also as he dashed round and round them, yipping wildly.

Jaspar laughed and leaned down to lift Clinton into his arms. “Now, sir, we can speak face-to-face. What is your dog’s name?”

“Wellington.”

“Here, Wellington, down. Sit down I say, and be quiet!” Wellington miraculously collapsed, grinning up at them lopsidedly, his tongue hanging from one side of his mouth. Jane could only gape in astonishment. Not only to see the animal obey so instantly, but to see Clinton so far forget what he felt he owed to his dignity as to allow himself to be picked up by a stranger without demur. Only Nurse and his mama had been allowed this privilege for over a year now, and only when Clinton was extremely tired or feeling unwell. He was very resistant to coddling in the ordinary way, proclaiming that it was for babies.

“Now, young Clinton, here’s how matters stand. I have discussed your problem with your mama and am even at this moment awaiting her decision.”

Clinton nodded gravely, put his arm about Jaspar’s neck in a comradely way, and they both turned questioning eyes upon Jane.

“Wretch,” she murmured feelingly, but then could not help laughing. “Oh, very well. I’ll go and change into a riding dress. Lord Jaspar knows of a pony, Clinton, and—”

She got no further. Even as she said the first conceding words, Clinton was pushing imperatively against Jaspar’s chest, clearly signaling his desire to be set down. Jaspar promptly did so and Clinton and Wellington began an ecstatic gallop around the room, to the accompaniment of triumphant whoops and barks. Nurse’s scandalized face appeared at the drawing-room door, and Jane, after informing Nurse of what the celebration was for, fled up the stairs to change. When she emerged from her room thirty minutes later, she wore her new and very elegant riding costume, and wondered anxiously if Lord Jaspar would think it smart. It was a dark lavender blossom in fine broadcloth, the collar high and rolled in back and lapeled down the front. There was a deep cape,
a la pelerine
, and a broad belt with a steel clasp. At her throat was a high ruff of double-pleated muslin sloping to a point at the bosom. Her hat was of amber-coloured velvet with a band of velvet leaves and her York tan gloves were tied with amber bows.

She paused in the drawing room door in self-conscious shyness, but the scene before her erased all thoughts of her own splendour. There sat Lord Jaspar in a chair by the window and perched on his knee was Clinton. They were deep into a discussion of the best qualities to be looked for in horse flesh, Clinton attending very seriously. Jaspar, suddenly aware of her presence, looked around and smiled.

“Well, lad, here is your mama, looking excessively fine. I think you must jump down and go congratulate her upon her costume.”

Clinton obediently climbed down. “My mama is always very fine,,” he said, as though it were a fact too irrefutable to need further comment.

“Indeed she is—but very special today,” replied Jaspar with so compelling a look into Jane’s eyes that she became quite breathless.

Nurse appeared and began buttoning Clinton into his coat, to the accompaniment of a steady stream of instructions as to his conduct while out of her charge, so that she would have no need to be ashamed of him. Clinton turned to Jaspar with a speaking look that said clearly what foolishly worrying creatures women were in his opinion. Jaspar snorted with laughter, which he covered with a cough, while Jane turned away to hide her smile and found Crews grinning openly in male sympathy.

Just as Clinton turned away from Nurse and took Jaspar’s hand the door knocker was heard to thump and everyone stopped. Crews stepped forward to open the door, and there stood Mr. Quint, his hand still raised to the knocker. For a moment everyone stood suspended, staring at one another over the threshold. Then Mr. Quint’s mouth opened and shut several times as though he wanted to speak, though no words issued forth. It was Clinton who broke the spell, having very important business on his mind.

“I think we should not keep the pony standing around waiting,” he said firmly, the maturity of his words sounding absurd in his baby voice. Mr. Quint, however, was clearly not amused. To his mind, a very small taste of young children constituted a surfeit. He bent a quelling glare upon Clinton and then turned to Jane.

“Good morning, dear lady. As you see, I am here for our visit,” he said with an intimate smile meant to convey the message that of course his arrival would cancel any other plans she may have made.

Jane had been a bit flustered by this rather embarrassing social situation, but his presumption caused her to retort sharply, “And as you see, Mr. Quint, I am on my way to an engagement with my son.”

“But—but—my dear—we—I—” sputtered Mr. Quint.

“Mama!” Clinton reminded her impatiently.

“Yes, darling, I am coming. Good day, Mr. Quint.”

The indoors party moved forward and down the steps to where the groom was holding their mounts. The sight of Mr. Quint’s face, sagging with disappointment and confusion, caused Jane to turn back impulsively. “I’m sorry we must leave in this abrupt way, Mr. Quint, just as you arrive, but you do understand? One must not keep a pony waiting.” She smiled charmingly. Mr. Quint’s wrinkles pulled themselves up into a response and he gave her a theatrical bow.

“Till tomorrow, fair one. I shall count the moments.”

Jane turned away to hide her distaste for this intimacy. Jaspar threw her up into her saddle and then mounted himself. Clinton was handed up to Jaspar by the groom, who then mounted and the party set off down the street. Clinton’s short little legs stuck straight out on each side and he clutched the pommel and sat up very straight, staring straight ahead. His face seemed to be lit up from within, as one would imagine young Lohengrin looked when he set off to seek the Holy Grail.

When they returned, Clinton, who had remained ecstatically speechless throughout the excursion, could manage only to shake Jaspar’s hand and grin. Jaspar grinned back, then turned to take Jane’s hand, and kiss her fingers lightly.

“Well done, Jane! But I knew you were pluck to the backbone,” and without waiting for a response, sprang back into his saddle and rode away.

Once inside his own door again the dam broke and all Clinton’s pent-up emotion burst forth in a spate of excited chatter about the merits of the truly exceptional pony and how easy it was to ride him. Jane hugged and kissed him, a liberty he didn’t even seem to notice as he continued recounting every moment of his excursion. Laughing, Jane led him off to Nurse and then retired to her room to change into an afternoon dress.

While Dorrie was rearranging Jane’s hair a note arrived from Lady Sarah:

Darling Jane,

Please
come with me to The Golden Crocodile tonight. It is
so Important
to me. I mean I shall go
Mad
if I must attend Another stupid Party with Mama! I don’t trust myself at the Gaming Tables alone, and I know your Presence will restrain me. Say
yes—Please!

Sarah

My man is waiting for your reply. If it is “Yes,” may I dine with you first?

Jane hesitated only a moment before impulsively dashing off an answer. She would go, she decided. Aunt Stanier had urged her to, and it would be amusing to play at cards again after so long. Fortunately Aunt Stanier was dining at Payton House this evening so she had only to instruct Crews to have another place laid. Possibly Aunt Stanier might like to accompany them to The Golden Crocodile.

Lady Stanier was agreeable to the plan. “Though of course I have no head for cards whatsoever. However, no doubt I will find any number of acquaintances there. Besides, I cannot approve of two young women going to such a place alone, even though one of them is married.”

So after dinner the three women arranged themselves in Sarah’s carriage and were driven to the gambling house. Sarah kept up the same nervous chatter she had maintained throughout dinner, saying nothing of any consequence, but unable, apparently, to stop, thus confirming Lady Stanier’s opinion that Sarah Montmorency was very little short of being a wantwit. Oh she was beautiful, of course, especially tonight in leaf-green that made her long, slanted eyes more green than usual. But not able to compare with Jane, thought Lady Stanier complacently, casting a proprietary glance at Jane. Jane’s high-waisted gown of heavy amber satin was almost severe in its beautifully cut simplicity, the skirt falling in a sleek line from below the bosom to the floor without ornament. The low, round neckline of the bodice framed the double rope of Payton pearls. Her headdress was a turban of amber velvet with a pearl and a diamond brooch holding a small white plume. Over her shoulders was a long sable cloak.

As the carriage pulled up before the door of a modest town house, Sarah became abruptly quiet, but Lady Stanier noted that she was now biting her lip. A liveried attendant stationed on the steps rapped sharply on the house door and hurried down to help the ladies out of the carriage.

“Good evening, m’lady,” he said to Sarah, “we’ve been on the lookout for you.”

They all crossed the pavement and mounted the steps as the front door opened before them, allowing a brilliant stream of light to spill down the steps. A very large doorman held the door open, an obsequious smile on his face. Lady Stanier nodded graciously as she went past him into a large entrance hall thronged with people, among whom she recognized some of the cream of the
ton,
all talking and laughing as they sipped champagne and strolled back and forth, passing from room to room opening off the central hall, where many games were in progress.

A footman came to take Lady Stanier’s cloak as Sarah came through the door. At the same moment a tall gentleman pushed his way through the patrons.

“Ah—welcome, Lady Sarah. I’ve been waiting for your arrival. Did you bring—?”

Sarah did not answer his greeting. She simply stood aside to reveal Jane just stepping over the threshold. There were murmurs of admiration and interest from the spectators, whose attention had been drawn to the door by the man’s loud greeting. He stopped as he saw Jane, as though he too was rapt with admiration. Indeed there was every reason for him to be, for Jane presented a breathtaking picture of regal loveliness, framed there in the doorway.

The small, anticipatory smile slowly faded from her lips and her eyes widened in shock, as every trace of her usual vivid colour faded from her face.

For there, directly before her, stood the one man she had hoped never to see again in her life. There was Leach!

She felt turned to ice in an instant and was aware of a faint sizzling sound in her ears. Leach recovered himself and advanced toward her, hand held out, smiling broadly.

“Well, well, this is an honour—er—Lady Payton,” he said, emphasizing her tide very slightly, and raising his eyebrow at her as though they shared a secret joke.

She drew back, staring in revulsion at the hand held out to her. Then suddenly she felt a flash of heat over her entire body, as though her very blood boiled. She had never experienced such rage in all her life. Two livid patches of red stained her cheeks and her sherry-coloured eyes turned nearly black. She raised her chin, stared at him with loathing, and then, without speaking, spun on her heel so quickly the sable cloak belled out around her, and walked back out the door.

Lady Stanier quickly removed her own cloak from the hands of the riveted footman. “Come, Sarah,” she said and started for the door. Behind her she thought she heard the man utter something as Sarah moved to follow her. She turned back to see Sarah pulling her arm from the man’s grasp.

“Oh—I—you go along, Lady Stanier. I’ll join the Davanets for a short time. Just send my carriage back and tell Jane I will speak to her tomorrow,” Sarah said with an attempt at lightness. But her eyes seemed to be pleading, and behind her, a dangerous glitter in his eyes, the man scowled ferociously. Lady Stanier merely nodded to Sarah and left.

In the carriage she found Jane huddled into her furs in the farthest corner, shaking uncontrollably.

“My dearest! What is it?” Lady Stanier pulled Jane into her arms. Jane made no answer, only burrowed close against her, shuddering. Lady Stanier ordered the coachman to take them to Payton House and they moved off. Lady Stanier held Jane tightly and wordlessly all the way home. Once there, she took her directly to the back drawing room, ordering a much concerned Crews to bring some brandy there. A fire still burned briskly in the fireplace, and Lady Stanier pressed Jane into the large chair before it.

When Crews brought the brandy, Lady Stanier poured out a generous portion and handed it to Jane. “Now, my love, I don’t know what is wrong, but I can see you’ve had a shock, so you’ll just get this down and sit quite quietly before you say a word,” she ordered.

Jane obediently extended a white-gloved hand from beneath her fur cloak and took the glass. She sipped it slowly, staring into the flames, and gradually the livid red patches on her cheeks faded and a more normal colour returned to her white face. Finally she set the glass aside and sighed.

“That—was Leach,” she said, “and it was not shock so much as rage. I felt quite—quite murderous. I think if I had held a weapon I might have killed him at that moment.”

“Leach? But—but—I don’t understand. I thought he was the Montmorency’s butler.”

“No longer, evidently,” Jane replied drily. “No doubt he managed to put aside a great deal of money besides his wages during the years he worked for the Montmorencys. He was absolute ruler there, you know, even Lady Montmorency hardly dared to go against him in domestic matters. There’s a lot to be made in such a position by a dishonest servant.”

“But how
could
Sarah patronize such a man?”

“Oh, the Montmorencys thought very highly of him. And you know how restless Sarah is—always looking for something new.”

“Hmmm—and she has been urging you to accompany her there?”

“Yes. I have been wondering about that also in the past few moments.”

“I’m wondering if it was at his prompting.”

“How could he have known we were friends?”

“Oh, that is easy enough. You are out around town with her quite often. He must have seen you with her and recognized you and suggested she bring you.”

“But why should she want to oblige him?”

“Dear one, I
have
heard she plays rather deep. Perhaps her debt to him is great enough for him to make such a suggestion. Even to demand it.”

“But what can be his motive?”

“With such a degenerate character it is impossible to guess his motive. Perhaps only the urge to strut his new status before you, or his sly way to let you know he had recognized you. I hope it is nothing more.”

“More! What do you mean?” Jane asked in alarm.

“Well, it is possible he hopes to extort something from you based on his knowledge of your background.”

“Money, do you mean?”

“Or perhaps your patronage as a wealthy titled woman who might draw others, give him more respectability.”

“He will not have it! Never! Nor money either! I would never give him a penny of Payton money!”

“Darling, be calm. It is more than likely nothing will come of it After all, it could not be to his advantage to expose you, and he doesn’t strike me as a man who does anything that is not to his advantage.”

Jane sat very still for a long time, staring unseeingly at Lady Stanier as she thought about it. Finally she sighed and slumped back into the chair.

“I hope you are right. Oh, I should never have taken this chance and come to London. Perhaps I should just go back. Take Clinton and go.”

“Yes, I suppose running away would be one answer,” replied Lady Stanier noncommittally.

“It would be for Clinton’s sake. I’d be a coward for his sake if necessary!” Jane flung at her, hurt by the implication.

“My dear, forgive me. I should not have said that. Especially now when you are so distraught. We will work something out, I assure you. I think the first thing you must do is go to your bed. The whole thing will seem much less daunting in the morning. Then I think you should speak to Sarah and find out whether he
did
ask her to bring you there. It may very well be that he didn’t do so. It
is
possible that he didn’t recognize you at all. You have changed a great deal since he last saw you, don’t forget.”

It was a ray of hope, and feeble though it was, Jane grasped it gratefully. Yes, she thought, I must speak to Sarah.