Marissa Day (17 page)

But there was nothing she could do about it. Conroy watched her every day, and Tilly watched her, and Lehzen watched her, and Heaven only knew who else. Even behind her closed door, Jane knew they waited and they watched, and she could do nothing at all.

Or could I?
Jane wondered as she spelled out yet another invitation in her best copperplate hand, readying it for the duchess’s signature.
Is this really the only living for me?

Once it took hold, that question grew roots, and the roots deepened. April faded into May. Preparations around the duchess reached fever pitch. The modistes and milliners came and went. Her Grace dithered over swatches of fabrics, lengths of antique lace, dozens of kinds of buttons and endless varieties of ribbon. Jane fetched her iced coffee and cakes, adjusted her pillows, rubbed her shoulders and back, and still the question grew in her mind. The weather turned bad again, all rain and gray skies to glower down at the swelling blooms in the gardens. Frau Seibold pulled the drapes and built up the fire until Jane thought she’d faint from the heat.

At last, though, it came time for the invitations to be delivered. Frau Seibold, however, declared the English spring was still too cold for Her Grace so close to her time. Therefore, as the duchess’s lady, it was Jane’s duty to take round the cards that could not be sent by the ordinary servants. Jane felt ready to press Frau Seibold’s blue-veined hand in thanks. Tilly would go out with her, of course, but at least she would have some fresh air and a change of scene.

Perhaps, if she was careful, she could have more than that. Thomas had his magics and mysteries, but she had a few tricks she’d learned at the elbow of her good friend Lady Hibbert-Jones, to whom she penned a letter asking for assistance. It was not the first time such letters had passed between herself and Georgiana. After Jane became Lord Octavius DeWitte’s wife, Georgiana had provided protective coloration for more than one escapade. Georgie would not let her down now.

The morning of the outing dawned clear and pleasant. The buds had broken on the trees, and the green leaves had emerged. Snowdrops were replaced by daffodils, crocus and primrose in all their spring finery. Soon the violets and bluebells would join them. Even a round of drawing rooms and weak coffee and prying questions seemed worth it to Jane if it meant a chance to breathe just some of that blossom-scented air.

And Thomas would be waiting for her. Georgie would have sent the second letter Jane had enclosed in the first. Georgie would not fail her.

Jane stood in the foyer, waiting for Tilly to bring her coat and bonnet, anticipation making her as jumpy as a child waiting for an outing. But the sound of stiff-soled shoes against the marble brought reality down hard. Before she even turned, Jane knew who she would see.

“Ah, Lady Jane,” Captain Conroy smiled down at her. “I was hoping to catch you before you left. I have a letter that needs to be posted. Will you take it for me?” He held out the white square.

It was a request both ridiculous and demeaning, as if he did not have a dozen servants and under-secretaries available as soon as he touched the bell pull.

“Really, Captain. One of the servants . . .”

But he smiled again. “There’s no need for this to be difficult, is there, Lady Jane? Have we not worked well together this past week?” His brows arched. “I had thought I might need to speak with the duke and duchess about you, but, well . . .” He coughed as if the matter was too delicate to mention. “Now I see that was overly hasty. I trust you’ll forgive me?”

He’s testing me. Trying to find out if I’ve thought the better of trying to keep free of him.
Jane was still struggling to formulate the best reply as Tilly descended the staircase, carrying Jane’s dotted Swiss pelisse and her lace bonnet trimmed with Clarence blue. Up above somewhere, Lehzen prowled, and Conroy had just threatened her position.

Once again, Jane made herself put her pride in her pocket. “There is nothing to forgive,” she said pleasantly to the captain, and the words tasted of bile.

“Then you’ll take the letter?” Conroy held the paper out.

“Of course.” She took the paper. But it was not just paper that touched her fingers. There was something else. She could feel the slight lump against her glove.

Jane turned the paper in her fingers. And saw the scrap of black cloth. No, not just black cloth, a black ribbon.

Thomas’s black ribbon.

Jane turned white as a sheet, and struggled for control, but control was not possible.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Conroy grasped the end of the ribbon between thumb and forefinger and drew it from her weakened grip before she could move. “Careless of me.” While Jane stared, he tucked the ribbon in his pocket.

He knows. He knows.
The words drummed against Jane’s skull to the rhythm of her frantically beating heart.

She looked up at Captain Conroy, and it seemed a long way up. He smiled down with triumphant benevolence shining in his fine, dark eyes.

Jane stiffened her shoulders and stilled her hands. She could do nothing about the color of her cheeks, but she would not give this man any further satisfactions. “Are there any other errands you would have me perform while I’m out? I have only Her Grace’s business to occupy me, after all.” The remark was petty and bitter, but it was all she had.

It was all ashes though, because it set the seal on Conroy’s triumph. “Not at this time, Lady Jane. Thank you.”

They nodded to each other, and Jane let Tilly help her into her pelisse and bonnet. She would not shake. She would keep breathing. She would walk out to the carriage and climb in as if there was not the least thing wrong. Tilly would tuck the rug over her skirts, and sit across, smiling.

There was nothing she could do. Nothing at all. Conroy had her ribbon, and if he didn’t know the name of Jane’s lover, he knew her lover existed. He could go to the duke at any time.

Jane stared out at the gardens in their careless spring finery. The landau emerged from the gates at the end of Kensington House’s garden and set a good pace through the park beyond. The day was as fine as it had appeared. Sunlight and a balmy wind touched her skin, but did nothing to lighten Jane’s fury. The curious—whether on horse, on foot or in their own carriages—turned at the sight of the duke’s coat of arms on the carriage door, and craned their necks to see who the carriage held.

More eyes to watch. More gossips to talk,
thought Jane bitterly.

 

 

T
he first three deliveries went smoothly. Jane had found the ladies at home, and had drunk coffee with each of them, staying the requisite fifteen minutes before moving on. She had feared the ritual and meaningless talk would aggravate her temper, which had already been pushed past its limits. But, surprisingly, putting on her polite lady’s mask had settled her.

She needed to be settled, because it was time to deal with Tilly. Georgie could be trusted to play her part in Jane’s plan, but she was far less certain of how Tilly would react, especially after Conroy’s trick with the ribbon. Everything could still go wrong in this moment.

“Tilly,” Jane said in the tone she reserved for making small talk with those she could not afford to offend. “I’ve been thinking. We’ve neither of us has had a moment to ourselves lately, and it will only become busier, what with the drawing room, and the baby due at any time. So there’s no need to rush ourselves today, is there?” Jane pulled five shillings and the captain’s letter from her reticule. “Captain Conroy has this letter that needs posting. Why don’t you take it? You can get yourself a little something as well, if you would like. I have some shopping for myself to do. We can meet at Mr. Drummond’s warehouse at three o’clock and take round the rest of the invitations after that.”

Tilly looked down at the letter, and weighed the shillings in her other palm. “I’m not sure . . .”

“It is for Captain Conroy, Tilly. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.” She made herself smile conspiratorially. “And, as I say, there’s no real reason for us to hurry back to that stuffy house, is there?”

Tilly’s thumb caressed the scattering of coins in her blackgloved palm and Jane watched the thoughts flickering across her face. Tilly didn’t know Conroy had already shown Jane the ribbon. She thought she was getting away with something, and she liked that thought.

“Well, I suppose, since there’s no hurry . . .”

Jane covered her relief by signaling Jeffries to stop. “None at all.”

“Thank you, madame.” Tilly stowed the coins and letter in her bag. “I will meet you at three o’clock.”

Tilly hopped from the carriage and bustled down the street without looking back. Jane watched her go with something of an ache inside. Just two weeks ago, Tilly had been reluctant to let her walk outside the carriage; Now for a few coins, she was perfectly ready to abandon Jane entirely. Had she ever treated the girl badly? She didn’t think so. Tilly probably just felt caged in the life of a servant, but had nowhere else to go and nothing else to be. Conroy’s intrigue’s offered her profit and adventure. Could she reasonably be expected to turn that down?

The only good thing was that Tilly was less likely to give Captain Conroy an accurate account of the drive now that she had taken Jane’s money. If Tilly was at all intelligent, she would take what she could get from both of sides, for as long as she could.

And so it begins.
Jane gave Jeffries Georgiana’s address and sat back, watching the streets. Jane had known she could not live so near the court and escape intrigue forever, but somehow she’d never expected her first game to be played with her own maid.

She knew the answer, of course. It had come back to her each and every time she asked the question over the previous week. She had no choice because no matter how destitute she might be, she remained a lady. She had been born an Honorable, and now lived as a baron’s widow. Standards must be upheld, as her mother had so often told her. Appearances must be maintained. Her father had repeated this on the day of her wedding to Lord Octavius, and Lord Octavius had sighed it every time she presented him the accounts from the latest dinner party he had asked her to organize. All of them had made it clear it was up to Jane to help maintain appearances for all of them.

But they are all dead.
A pang of disloyalty touched her as she thought this, but that pang was not as strong as the question that followed.

G
eorgiana and Lord Hibbert-Jones both had a love for the modern. Their house in the fashionable district just off Grosvenor’s square was entirely new, with clean sweeping lines. Probably, Jane thought, with a bit of envy, all of its sparkling windows closed properly.

“You’ll take in my card, please, Jeffries.” Jane pulled one of her visiting cards from its case and bent down a corner to show that she had brought it personally. “And ask if Lady Hibbert-Jones is at home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jeffries touched his hat and took the card, but just as he climbed down from the carriage, the front door opened and Georgie emerged with her own maid in tow.

“Why, Jane!” Georgie did an excellent job of looking startled as she hurried to the carriage. “How lovely! I’m so sorry, I was just on my way out . . .”

“Oh, you mustn’t let me delay you,” replied Jane. From under her bonnet’s concealing brim, Georgie tipped her a wink, and Jane’s heart soared. “I’m taking round invitations to the drawing room for her grace. I just wanted to give you yours.” She pulled the neat gilt-edged card from the pile in the box beside her and handed it across.

“Thank you, Jane. You may give Her Grace my assurance that I will attend.” Georgie paused for just the right number of heartbeats. “I’ve an idea. Why don’t you ride with me a ways? I’m going to call on Lady Price. I’m sure she’s also on the guest list, isn’t she?”

“That would be splendid, Georgie.” Taking up the box of invitations, Jane stepped from the carriage. “Jeffries, I’ll be riding with Lady Hibbert-Jones. You’ll take the carriage and meet us at Durham’s warehouse at three?” She pressed a shilling into his hand.
I am quite the lady bountiful today.
“And you might want a mug of cider. It’s turned quite warm.”

“Very good, ma’am,” said Jeffries calmly as he tucked away the coin in his vest. “And thank you.”

The second gift did its work as well as the first. Jeffries didn’t look back at all as he touched up the horses and eased the landau into traffic. Georgie handed the invitation to her maid and sent the girl back inside the house. Once the door closed, Jane seized Georgie’s hand.

“He’s just round the corner,” said Georgie without Jane even needing to open her mouth. “There’s a little park there. Mostly nurses and children at this time of day. No one we know.”