Chapter Thirteen
When they arrived at services on Sunday, Jocelyn performed as the colonel had asked. She scanned the crowd gathering before the church to seek out the countenances of those who approached Lady Annabelle yesterday.
“The colonel said we should find you,” Victoria announced.
“How grand!” Jocelyn said with an encouraging smile. It was then she spotted the trio. As she passed Mr. Darcy, she paused briefly to gather Vincent from the man’s side. As she reached for the boy, she said softly, “Tell your cousin, the three standing under the large elm are Lady Annabelle’s friends.”
Mr. Darcy looked oddly upon her, but he nodded his agreement.
“Might we speak to Alicia before we go in?” Victoria begged.
Jocelyn assumed Vincent would object. Instead, he assisted his sister in tugging Jocelyn towards where a sweetly pretty young child stood with a more traditional-looking governess. Not for the first time, Jocelyn realized her clothing was not a “customary” look for a servant in a viscount’s household.
The two young girls hugged each other as was common among children. Though Vincent did not hug the girl, he presented her a small bow and said, “You look fair today, Miss Alicia.” No stuttering. Jocelyn could tell Vincent must have practiced and practiced his compliment.
Though the girl did not say it in a mean manner, she replied, “You always say the same thing, my lord.”
Jocelyn knew Vincent wanted to shout at the girl for not accepting his kind words, for his hand tightened about her fingers. Therefore, she said, “Though I realize you wish Lord Vincent to say something a bit different, his parents expect him to perform in the manner of all members of the aristocracy. Lady Victoria may present you an embrace of affection, but English society only permits their young men the pleasure of offering you a compliment.”
Both the girl and her governess appeared shocked by Jocelyn’s daring, but Miss Alicia responded quicker. “I meant no offense, Lord Vincent. I truly enjoy your affirmation.”
“You do?” Vincent asked in surprise.
The girl looked oddly upon Vincent, but she said, “I am not in the habit of speaking a lie.”
“Neither am I,” Vincent responded without hesitation.
“Nor I,” Victoria declared.
The three burst into laughter, and the crisis was diverted for the moment.
“We must go in. The colonel will expect you to sit with the family and the Darcys.”
“You, too, must join your family, Alicia,” the other governess said. As they turned together to enter the church, the woman remarked. “You appear to have more sympathy for the young lord than did your predecessor. His mannerisms offended Mrs. Peyton, who did not wish to be judged poorly if the boy acted from form.”
“I have lived most of my life on the Continent,” Jocelyn explained. “I have known many young gentlemen who are very regimented in their ways. I imagine Lord Vincent requires order as a means to deal with the sudden passing of a beloved father and being uprooted from the only home he had ever known, while realizing others will believe he must learn to conduct himself as an earl at the age of ten. Such responsibility should be far removed. We should not expect our children to shoulder the responsibilities of an adult.”
The other woman said, “I am Mrs. Aiken. Would you care to follow me to where the servants are to watch the service?”
“That is very kind of you,” Jocelyn responded, suddenly realizing she would be expected to sit with the servants and not in the family pew.
“Do you speak French or some other language? You said you had lived on the Continent, Mrs.—”
“It is ‘Miss,’” Jocelyn corrected. “Miss Lambert. I speak French quite fluently and also more than a smattering of Spanish and a bit of Italian.”
Mrs. Aiken said, “I am also a ‘Miss,’ but the custom for many high-ranking servants is to pretend a former husband.”
Jocelyn smiled knowingly. “I understand the custom, but, you see, I was a friend of the Lindales’ cousin, Mrs. Darcy, before I accepted the position. I have lost my family, who have served this country since I was but five years of age.”
“I see,” the woman said as she directed Jocelyn to an area of the church where senior servants of the surrounding estates stood along the wall. “I was wondering if you would object if I brought Miss Alicia to visit with the Babcock children, say, once or twice weekly, so Alicia might have a French lesson, and I might learn along with the children. I could teach lessons in . . .”
“Drawing,” Jocelyn supplied. “I am fair in drawing leaves and flowers, but not so much faces. I fear I am much of the same nature as my friend Mrs. Darcy in that manner.”
“I draw quite well.”
“Then we have a bargain.”
Jocelyn studied Vincent as the boy looked on while Victoria and Miss Alicia chattered together before the girl’s parents called her away. There was such longing on Vincent’s expression, Jocelyn could do nothing less but agree to teach the young girl so Vincent might claim a friend also.
* * *
Elizabeth tugged on his sleeve. Edward was watching where Miss Lambert and the children conversed with another of the local governesses. Mrs. Aiken was employed by the Schroeders, a family from the gentry, but a well-placed one. Ironically, both Vincent and Miss Lambert appeared from place. Fortunately, the tension in the boy’s shoulders relaxed, thanks to something Miss Lambert said. Yet, there was nothing the woman could do to make herself less lovely. Less from place among the servant class. She held herself too royally to hide among the other servants. The woman was truly beautiful. Alluring as hell, or should he think ‘heaven,’ as he was standing before a church. She was pert and opinionated, and he would enjoy nothing more than kissing her into silence when she was least expecting it. He wanted her as he had never wanted another woman.
“Miss Lambert says,” Elizabeth began, before he could even turn his head her way. Edward pulled himself from his fantasies regarding a servant in his brother’s household to listen to his cousin’s wife. “The three young people standing under the large elm to the right are the ones from the fair.” He looked up to where she had directed his attention. “I would say Miss Lambert is correct, for Annabelle just gave them a small wave, warning them away, when they thought to approach. Would you like me to sit beside her during services?”
“No. Annabelle will be at my side.” He watched as the young people separated to join their families. The girl stood with the Carltons, a well-respected family among the landed gentry, whose estate was some five miles removed from the church to the south.
The gentlemen both joined the Dubrows. “The dark-haired youth must be Anthony Dubrow,” Edward thought. It had been years since he had encountered any from the family. They were from the aristocracy, but were not considered goodton.
Edward was quite surprised the Carltons would permit their daughter to associate with the Dubrows’ son. Though she would eventually be a baroness if she could bring Anthony Dubrow up to snuff, in Edward’s opinion, such would be a heavy price to pay to be a baroness. Yet, he could not protect the world from making poor decisions. He had recently made his own mistake. He would prefer to court Miss Lambert, but he had agreed to court the unknown Miss Romfield.
“I will watch both and, later, thank Miss Lambert privately for the information,” he said softly. “If you would, please ask Darcy if he is familiar with the unknown young man. I doubt he will recognize the fellow, but it is worth the time of the question.”
* * *
As he had expected, Darcy did not recognize the young man, and it was not as if Edward could ask Dubrow. They had never been friendly, and he held no doubt the man would refuse him.
To make matters worse, Edward had received a late express from his superiors, ordering him back to Derbyshire and Yorkshire for recruiting purposes and for training those to be sent to the front. The British Army was preparing for a major push, now that Napoleon had been captured. They required bodies. Even so, he would not send any of those he convinced to join the war off without a “special preparation,” a large dose of the reality of war. He had served on both the Continent and the American front and knew of what he spoke.
Therefore, after the rest of the house retired on Sunday evening, he had made his way to Miss Lambert’s quarters. He told himself he simply meant to inform the lady of his departure on Tuesday, but, in reality, he was drawn to the woman like a moth to a flame and simply wished to look upon her features. For her sake, he wanted no one to view him near her quarters. He knocked lightly and waited, but she did not answer right away. He was wondering whether to knock a second time or leave. After all, he could speak to her tomorrow, for he would not depart tomorrow. There was time. He simply could not think of leaving her. He enjoyed being with her. Enjoyed knowing she was somewhere in the same house as he. He knew, in truth, his excuse regarding Lady Annabelle could be delivered at another time. Therefore, he made to leave just as the door cracked open a few inches.
“Colonel?” she said softly. “Is something amiss with the children?”
“No.” He shook his head in the negative. “I simply wished to speak to you regarding a situation.”
She edged the door open, but he stayed where he was. Dear God, the image of her with her hair down and swept over her shoulders and her wearing a simple gown and robe would haunt him for the remainder of his days. “What has occurred?”
He swallowed his desire for her and focused his eyes on a place a bit over her head. “You are aware the Darcys’ plan to depart in the morning.”
“I do,” she said on what sounded as a breathy exhale, and he wondered if she was as moved as was he.
“I have received an express only an hour prior from my commanding officer.” He briefly closed his eyes and silently counted to ten, while fisting his hands so as not to reach for her. This had been a mistake. “I will be leaving Tuesday morning. Likely for three, perhaps four days. I will generally be at Maitland Manor, if you require me. Send someone, and I will come right away.”
“I understand,” she said softly and reached for his hand.
He should not have submitted, but it was not in his nature to deny anyone, that is, but himself.
“I fear Lady Annabelle will attempt to defy you in my absence,” he said as his other hand reached to caress the softness of her cheek. It was as if he was touching heaven. “Send for me. I will come immediately,” he repeated. “You may be required to prevent chaos in my absence. I will ask that you not go into the village or permit the children, including Lady Annabelle, to do so. One of the young men, the shorter one with dark hair, you noted at the church is a member of the Dubrow family. They are from the aristocracy, but are considered quite gauche. Many of the ton avoid them. I am still not confident who the other young man is.”
“I will do my best,” she assured.
“Rose,” he whispered. “I am not free . . .”
She lifted up on her toes gently to brush her lips against his before he could say the words they already intrinsically knew: She was a servant, and he was the son of an earl. Even so, he immediately caught her to him. He wanted her. Before he could consider the inappropriateness of his action, he had her in his arms. “What am I doing?” he groaned before his mouth covered hers.
* * *
Jocelyn knew immediately she had made a mistake. Not in kissing this particular man, for she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, but she could not have him. Like it or not, she was promised to another, and, though she was angry with her parents for arranging a marriage for her without her knowledge, Jocelyn knew she must return to Kent and speak her acceptance of the gentleman.
The colonel thought her a servant in his brother’s house. She would be what was termed as a common seduction. She could not bear it. She was no “gentry mort.” Not her. She wanted the dream. The foolish dream all young women desire: A man who loved, not just desired her. Therefore, she shoved her way from his hold.
“I cannot,” she managed, as she fought to claim a full breath.
He held on to the door’s frame as if the portal was the only thing holding him in place. “Neither can I,” he said as his chest heaved. “I am acting in my brother’s stead, and Lindale would never abuse a servant in his household. Neither may I think to do so. We were not taught to act thusly. Please say you will forgive me. You are essential to the healing of Lady Lindale’s children, and I would never permit them to know harm.” He took a purposeful step backwards. And then another. And another. With a slight bow of respect, he turned sharply and walked away, while Jocelyn’s knees buckled beneath her, and she sank to the floor.
The feel of his mouth on hers remained. It would always remain in her memory. Tears filled her eyes. How could she tolerate an ordinary man when she had experienced perfection?
* * *
They had avoided each other as much as was possible as they bid the Darcys farewell. Lady Annabelle had taken to her quarters and would not even agree to permit the twins in. If Jocelyn could present the girl a good shake and load it with common sense, she would do so.
“If you require our assistance,” Elizabeth Darcy had said as she presented Jocelyn a hug, “send word. One of us will come post haste.”
“I shall be well,” Jocelyn assured.
“I hold no doubt,” Mrs. Darcy declared. “I am never wrong, and you are what this family requires.”
“Come along, Mrs. Darcy,” the lady’s husband said as he extended his hand to her.
“Mrs. Darcy was just telling me she never errs in judging a person’s character,” Jocelyn supplied in excuse for the woman tarrying by Jocelyn’s side.
Both the colonel and Mr. Darcy burst into laughter.
“Did I say something from place?” Jocelyn asked.
“Someday I will tell you the story of how many times Miss Elizabeth Bennet misjudged one Fitzwilliam Darcy,” the colonel said with another round of laughter.
“It was all a grand plan,” Mrs. Darcy declared with a sweep of her arm in illustration. “Every other woman in England had flattered Mr. Darcy, claiming his all-consuming self-interest was sublime. I took a different approach. And note what I have earned for my troubles: I earned a man who most suits me.”
“Come along then, Mrs. Darcy,” her husband said with a smile. “Now that you have unfairly won my esteem, you must tolerate my ‘all-consuming self-interest,’ which lies with you, my dear wife.”
Mrs. Darcy laughed easily. “As you say, sir.”
Jocelyn looked on as the woman caressed her husband’s cheek before she permitted him to assist her into his carriage. The two smaller carriages would follow his. Mr. Darcy looked back to Jocelyn. “Please write to my lady,” he instructed. “She has become quite fond of you.”
The colonel came to stand behind Jocelyn as she waved to the Darcys. “They found each other despite the world saying they should walk different paths. You have no idea how many times Darcy proposed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet and how much he enacted to save Elizabeth’s family from ruin, even when he thought never to know her as his wife. Theirs is a great love story. Minerva Press could turn their tale into a book all of the female population of England would gobble up, and, perhaps, even some of the males. Yet, my cousin would never share their tale, for they each performed as they did to protect a variety of innocents. Now, they are the ideal couple, one by which everyone who knows them set as the standard for a relationship.”
Jocelyn did not turn to look upon him, for she feared the need to rush into his arms if she did so. “Perhaps their tale should be written by an author all of England and the world will recognize. My mother always said only a woman who has never known love understands how precious it is. Perhaps there is just such a woman residing in her father’s house somewhere in England who could provide their story justice.”
“Are you such a woman, Miss Lambert?” the colonel asked.
“As you well know, I am what English society would consider to be an ‘ungovernable governess.’ I have not the talent it would take to tell such a tale, but I would love to read it.”