They talked for a few minutes about James Boswell and Samuel Johnson, until they were interrupted by a timid tapping at the door. Lord Wintringham pulled out his watch.
“Three o’clock—my cousin Neville. I am sorry to disturb you. Miss Brooke, but when I arranged to interview my relatives in my library, I had not expected it to become a place of common resort.”
“You wish to speak privately with Miss Neville?”
“I do. I promise I shall not bully her.”
Jane laughed, levering herself out of the deep armchair. “Then I shall go and see if I can visit Lady Fitzgerald and the baby.”
He took her hand and gazed down at her with warmth in his grey eyes. “I have not thanked you yet for your invaluable service to Lady Fitzgerald last night.”
“We were glad to be able to help,” she said, blushing.
As the library door closed behind her, she put her hand to her hot cheek. What had come over her? She was not given to changing colour like a ninnyhammer, and the earl had merely expressed his gratitude. It must have been the way he looked at her. Who would have guessed that grey could be such a warm colour? His hand had been cool, strong yet gentle. Her own still tingled from the contact.
No wonder young ladies were not allowed to be alone with gentlemen, she thought, if the result was to leave young ladies feeling peculiar all over!
A footman was watching her, with curiosity that changed at once to rigid impassivity when he realized he was observed.
“Pray direct me to the nursery,” Jane requested. She would go there first, so that she’d be able to take news of the child to Lady Fitzgerald.
Despite precise directions, it took her some time to reach the nursery, tucked away at the top of a distant wing. There she found Miss Gracechurch instructing the housemaid who had been put in charge of the baby because she had once held a position as nursery maid. She had never been in sole charge of a newborn before, and she was absorbing Gracie’s words with wide-eyed anxiety.
Rather than interrupt, Jane went straight to the cradle where the Honourable Miss Fitzgerald was fast asleep in a lace-trimmed gown and cap—Gracie disapproved of swaddling bands. The baby’s tiny, dimpled fists pressed to her cheeks. Jane thought her decidedly plain with her snub nose and squashed chin, though she wouldn’t have dreamed of saying so. She had yet to see an infant whose looks justified the inevitable admiration, but perhaps it was different when one had children of one’s own, at least until they reached an age to be bothersome.
Not for the first time, she vowed to herself that her own children, however bothersome, should never be sent away to a distant estate to be reared by servants. This nursery was far enough, isolated enough, from the more frequented parts of the house.
“Too far,” said Gracie as they retraced their steps together. “Lady Fitzgerald has to nurse the child herself until a wet nurse can be hired and it is most unwise to carry so young a babe back and forth along miles of draughty corridors. I wonder whether I ought to speak to the housekeeper or to Lady Wintringham herself about preparing a closer room.”
“If you like, I will ask the earl.”
“The earl! I hardly think you are on such terms with his lordship as to request his assistance in a matter that is the concern chiefly of the lady of the house.”
“I have been talking to him, and I believe he is not so black as he is painted. Indeed, when he forgets how important he is and comes down off his high horse, he is an amazingly agreeable gentleman.”
“His high horse? Jane, pray do not...”
“...use my brother’s slang—I mean, colloquialisms. I beg your pardon, Gracie dear. But do you wish me to speak to Lord Wintringham, in the King’s English, about changing the baby’s room?”
“I think not. He might mount again onto his high horse.”
Jane giggled and impulsively hugged her governess. “I do love you, Gracie.”
“And I you, my dear.” Smiling, she touched Jane’s cheek lightly before reverting to her subject. “Perhaps it will be best if the Fitzgeralds themselves approach Lady Wintringham.”
“They might not care to approach so unapproachable a lady for a favour after setting her household at sixes and sevens already. I know: we shall have Ella ask the advice of his lordship’s valet, who was so helpful last night.”
“An excellent notion. Now the only remaining question is whether I send a footman to fetch Ella or go to my chamber and ring for her. What a trial it is to live in such vast magnificence, to be sure!”
Laughing, they parted and Jane continued to Lady Fitzgerald’s room. Both her husband and her sister were there. The Fitzgeralds were delighted to see Jane, but Lavinia Chatterton seemed uncomfortable. After a few minutes, she crossed to the window, glanced out, and said awkwardly, “I fear you may be stranded here for some time to come, Miss Brooke. The fog is as thick as ever,”
Surprised by her overture, and a trifle wary, Jane went to join her. “So it appears,” she agreed, looking out at the formless whiteness. “I do not recall ever seeing so dense a fog. The poor coachman cannot be blamed for driving the Mail into a ditch.”
“And I cannot be sorry for it, since no one was hurt. What should we have done if you had not arrived so opportunely to help Daphne? I do not know how to thank you, Miss Brooke.”
“Pray think nothing of it, Miss Chatterton. Fortune having brought us to where we were needed, what else could we do? Besides, your thanks are due more to Miss Gracechurch than to me, for she is the one with the knowledge and I did no more than to follow her orders.”
“I shall thank her too,” Lavinia promised, then went on shamefacedly, “I...I was not very welcoming yesterday. I hope you will forgive me, and that we can be friends?”
“Of course,” said Jane, who considered every acquaintance a potential friend until proven otherwise. “I understand perfectly.”
“I don’t in general put on such airs. You see, my situation is difficult. My mama and Lady Wintringham say I must try to attract Lord Wintringham’s interest. I am prodigious lucky that he is Fitz’s friend, for he is a splendid
parti
, rich and titled, and his conduct in every way irreproachable. And he is even handsome, and not too old, so I have nothing to complain of.”
“No, indeed.”
“But oh, Miss Brooke, I cannot like him. His manner is so...so contemptuous that he frightens me and I can never think of anything to say to him. Did you know that they call him My Lord Winter? I am not the only one who finds him intimidating. I cannot bear the thought of being married to him.”
“Then you must not,” said Jane decisively. “Stop trying to attach him and follow your own inclination. I am sure there are other equally eligible gentlemen who will be acceptable to both you and your parents.”
“Oh yes, I expect I shall meet dozens, for we are soon to go up to Town for the Season.”
Dismayed by this news, Jane didn’t ask herself why she had not revealed to Lavinia her discovery that beneath My Lord Winter’s shell of ice dwelt a most attractive gentleman.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Miss Gracechurch paused in the doorway of the library and looked around the room with envy. It was as impressive as Jane had told her.
One of the greatest disadvantages of her past life at Hornby Castle had been the difficulty of procuring books, which offset the advantage of having a great deal of leisure for reading. What the future held she could not guess. Deciding to make the best of the present, she set off on a tour of exploration.
“Perhaps I might be of assistance, ma’am?” said Mr. Selwyn’s quiet voice behind her.
She swung round, smiling. “Sir, I beg your pardon. I did not see you.”
“These chairs are admirably designed to hide their occupants. Were you looking for something in particular? I fancy I have fathomed his lordship’s system of classification.”
“To tell the truth, I am overwhelmed by this
embarras de richesse.
I can imagine wandering around forever, unable to make a choice.”
“Then might I suggest that you tell me what you like to read and I will select a few books for you, to reduce the perplexity to manageable proportions.”
“To choose between subjects is almost as difficult. I shall rely entirely upon your judgement.” She sat down in the chair opposite the one from which he had risen. “But pray do not bring me some technical treatise on agriculture!”
He laughed. “I promise.”
His long face was well suited for laughter, she thought, not at all the dry, fussy look one expected of a lawyer. He was as much the gentleman as Lord Wintringham, and with a gentlemanly ease of manner that the earl could not match. Whatever the future brought—at present it appeared less than promising—she would be glad that she had met Mr. Selwyn.
He brought her a half dozen volumes, setting the stack on the table beside her chair. “Our host is a noted bibliophile,” he said, as she picked up the top book and read the title. “He has followed in the footsteps of his uncle, the late Earl of Wintringham, who built up this superb collection.”
“You sound as if you have the knowledge to appreciate it.”
“I myself am a collector, in a small way, of course. I cannot hope to compete with this library, but I have one or two items I believe his lordship might even consider worthy of his locked shelves.” He cast a longing glance at a cabinet in one corner.
“Rare books? I fear I should not understand their value. Jane and I simply enjoy reading.”
“If you have taught her that, you have taught her a great deal.”
“Taught...I...oh dear!” she said, flustered.
“Forgive me, Miss Gracechurch. I do not mean to discompose you, but I flatter myself I am not an unobservant man. Would I be incorrect in guessing that Miss Brooke is something more than she pretends to be, and that you are her governess?’’
“Oh dear!” She dropped the book in her lap and hid her scarlet face in her hands. “It was wicked of me to allow her to continue her masquerade.”
“Not wicked,” he said firmly, “though perhaps unwise. However, I doubt you could have turned her from her course once she was set in it.”
“Very true. Jane is a most determined young woman, besides being inclined to act upon impulse, as you have seen. Pray do not misunderstand me: she is also the sweetest-tempered girl. She is like a daughter to me.”
“How long have you been with her?”
“Since she was five years old, and she recently turned twenty.”
“Fifteen years! But, my dear Miss Gracechurch, you must have been in the schoolroom yourself.”
“Not quite.” She smiled at him, pleased by the implied compliment. “It was my first private position after teaching for two years in a school.”
“A good position, I assume, since you stayed so long.”
“I was exceptionally lucky to find such an agreeable situation.’’
And shall be even luckier to find another like it,
she thought unhappily. When a young lady made her come-out, her governess’s duties were finished. “Jane’s parents never interfered in her upbringing. Indeed, we seldom saw them from one year’s end to the next. A ruined castle and a small manor house do not suit their consequence, I collect, besides being over far from London.”
“Then the credit for her disposition and manners is entirely yours, ma’am. Allow me to congratulate you. She is a charming young lady. You are going to London for the Season?”
“Her first. It has been postponed twice because of mourning for two distant cousins.” Her indignation on Jane’s behalf and his sympathetic interest overcame her discretion.
“Very
distant cousins. I should not dream of saying this to Jane, but I believe her mother has seized upon any excuse to keep her hidden away. Lady Hornby is too occupied with her own amusements to wish to be troubled with bringing out her daughter.”
“Lady Hornby? Even I know of the marchioness’s reputation as an accredited Beauty.”
“Oh dear, I ought not to have told you her ladyship’s name, nor spoken so of her. I am becoming as imprudent as Jane.”
“My dear Miss Gracechurch,” he said earnestly, “I am gratified by your trust. Every word you have said will be held in utmost confidence.”
She shook her head. “I do trust you, sir, but I hardly need exact a promise of silence. It seems Miss Chatterton is also to make her bow to Society this spring, as soon as her sister is recovered from her lying-in. I fear Jane’s escapade will inevitably be revealed. I wish that wretched Lord Wintringham had not taken it into his head to treat us as honoured guests!”
* * * *
At that moment, Lord Wintringham was ready to heartily second Miss Gracechurch’s wish.
In order to brood in peace over Miss Jane Brooke’s inexplicable ability to loosen his tongue beyond all the bounds of propriety—to the point of criticizing his family to a stranger!—he had retreated to his estate office. Thither Mr. Ramsbottom followed him. Impervious to snubs, sarcasm, and silence alike, the cotton merchant pursued his investigation into the economics of running a large estate with the dogged persistence of a terrier after rats.
In the end, Edmund was forced to escape Ramsbottom by going up early to change for dinner. The defeat rankled, and made him the readier to blame Jane Brooke for her earlier interference.
When he went down to the drawing-room, she and Lavinia were chattering with the young students. She smiled at him. His cold glance erased her smile, but far from being crushed she cocked her head and raised her eyebrows a trifle, contriving to look both perplexed and faintly mocking. With a slight shrug, she turned back to Mr. Reid.
So Miss Brooke cared not a whit for his opinion? Fuming, and feeling somewhat foolish, Edmund joined Fitz, who stood leaning against the mantel with his hands in his pockets, beaming at the world with impartial delight.
“Daresay you noticed,” he greeted Edmund, “Lavinia didn’t so much as blink an eye when you came in.”
Edmund had been far too occupied in attempting to put Jane Brooke in her place to pay any heed to Lavinia Chatterton. “No,” he grunted.
“Not going to take a miff, are you? I was sure as eggs you’d be pleased so I encouraged her.”
“Encouraged her to cut me?”