Chapter Five
Jane
When Jane awoke, it was to the thick scent of smoke choking her.
Her eyes flew open as her hand reached for her spectacles, shoving them on her face as she sat bolt upright, ready to pour her carafe of water on an escaped ember before it became something unmanageable.
Instead, she found a severe-looking woman she had never seen before smoking a cheroot in the armchair beside her bed. The woman wore a satin morning gown in deep plum with an ultra-high neckline, her hair styled in an efficient knot with ringlets artfully placed at her temples. She was older, but with a slightly less vibrant version of Helena’s red hair and something of Lord Jasper in her eyes. A relation, no doubt, but Jane couldn’t imagine the Countess of Belhaven smoking, at least not so openly.
The woman let a lungful of smoke out. “My, but you are excitable.”
It did not sound like a compliment. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a woman smoke a cheroot,” she countered.
“I daresay you still haven’t, as this is a cigarette .” She said it with the crispest of French accents before taking in another puff. “They’re all the rage in France, but like everything else, they will arrive in England ten years after we’ve deemed them unfashionable.”
Jane’s mind was groggy. She could have been asleep for an hour or a day. “How long was I—”
“Unconscious?” Another exhale, filling the room with a haze of smoke. “I arrived yesterday afternoon and you stubbornly slept through the evening and night, waking only to take your medicine, but I’d have hardly called you ‘awake’ then.”
That explained how ravenous she felt. But she presumed her body had needed rest more than sustenance. “Would you mind opening the window?” Jane asked, her eyes watering as the woman’s plume of smoke reached her.
“My dear, the conditions outside would rival the Arctic. I will do no such thing.”
“Then perhaps you could take your cigarette ” — she used the woman’s exact pronunciation, impressing even herself — “elsewhere, as I do not believe that smoke is conducive to healing.”
The woman gave her a long, assessing gaze before allowing a small smile while she stubbed the cigarette out in a glass dish. “I wasn’t expecting much bite,” she mused. “I’ll admit it is refreshing. Too often Society robs young girls of their teeth long before they’ve had a chance to sharpen them.”
Now that the excitement of waking to a potential inferno had faded, Jane was left to contend with the pain in her head and the hunger roaring to life in her belly. She slumped back onto the bed, not much caring what the woman thought of her, considering it was she who was intruding on an invalid.
“What is your name, girl?”
She bristled at that. “I assume you’ve heard tell of my misadventure, my lady,” she offered before the woman nodded. “Well, then you know I am not exactly certain of much, but you can call me Jane.”
The woman seemed to already know her name and was merely seeking to have Jane confirm it. “Of all the names in the world to reinvent yourself with, you chose Jane ?”
“I am not seeking to reinvent myself. I would much prefer it if my memories were restored to me.” Her stomach growled, and she found herself hoping the woman heard and would perhaps be moved to action on her behalf. Where was blessed Helena when she needed her? “Jane is simple, and I find I need a bit of simple in my life.”
The woman barked out a laugh. “Too true.”
Jane shifted uncomfortably, all too aware of her pressing need to visit the water closet. The woman noticed her mild distress but said nothing.
She raised a brow imperiously. “Aren’t you a bit curious as to whom you are conversing with?”
“I assume Society bleeds the curiosity out of girls as well.”
The woman’s laugh was genuine this time, and loud. “I didn’t expect to like you this much,” she confessed. “I am Lady Adelaide Maycott.”
A relation, then. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady. May I ask what brings you to my bedside?”
“I am here to observe. My arrival so soon after your incident was a happy accident, seeing as how you’ll be needing a chaperone during your recovery.”
“Surely you needn’t go to the trouble,” Jane started. “It’s not as though I’m some fine lady with a reputation in need of protecting.” Though, even as she said it, she knew she could be wrong. All she had to go on was a too-big ring and a hunch. And just because she didn’t feel like a lady didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t one.
“You are a woman of marriageable age and questionable origin at the mercy of Lord Belhaven. It is both for your sake and his that I will exercise my duty as chaperone.”
Jane hadn’t thought of it that way. “I suppose that’s logical,” she offered with a sigh.
Lady Adelaide did not seem to hear her. “You are aware, of course, of what normally happens to women like you?”
“Women like me?” she asked, bracing for the reply.
“The ones without a past, desperately chasing a different future for themselves.” Her gaze was appraising and somewhat cold. “In the end, they get found out.”
Jane hardly had the energy to be insulted. “It’s my past I seek, my lady. Without it, I am lost.”
Lady Adelaide’s features seemed to soften at that. “No, my girl. Without it, you are in danger.”
That she knew in her bones. What protection existed for a woman who did not know herself? Where could she turn for assistance? Who could she lean on for support? If she dwelled upon it for too long, Jane was certain the panic that simmered just beneath the surface would overtake her.
“It is a lucky circumstance you have found yourself in, to be injured on the grounds of Mulgrave Hall. My nephew numbers among the scant few aristocrats who would feel honor bound to assist you.”
Was it honor, then, that spurred Lord Jasper? He seemed far more driven to view her as an irritation to be rid of at the earliest opportunity. Not that she blamed him.
“I shall endeavor to count my blessings, my lady, but I do find myself in need of a bit of privacy at the moment.”
Lady Adelaide stood. “I shooed your caretakers away so I could get a sense of your character without their influence.”
Jane understood now where Lord Jasper’s suspicious nature came from. “And how did you find it?” Pity that she had no idea where her boldness came from, but it seemed an inexorable part of her.
Lady Adelaide gave her a shrewd grin. “Far better than I’d anticipated.”
“I am relieved.” She said it with a mixture of sarcasm and honesty, strange bedfellows indeed.
Lady Adelaide continued. “You are a puzzle, my dear. And whether that is intentional or not, I do intend to solve you.” She swept toward the door, pausing at the threshold. “Oh, I had a bath drawn for you, though I imagine the water is tepid by now.” With that, she was gone, leaving Jane with the certainty that a tepid bath had never sounded so heavenly.
Jane rose carefully onto her unsteady feet, testing her full weight before committing to a few uneasy steps. She was weak, to be sure, but it didn’t seem like a lasting ailment. She chanced a walk to the window, eager to feel even the pale winter sun on her sallow skin. It was latched tight, but her hard work was rewarded with the iciest of breezes, filling her lungs with crisp, reviving air.
“Jane! My goodness!” Helena rushed over to her, latching the window closed and setting her incredulous gaze upon her. “I cannot abide an open window in the heart of a Surrey winter.”
“I found I needed fresh air, even if it was frigid.”
Helena sniffed the air, nose wrinkling. “And what did you think of dear Aunt Adelaide?”
“A most charming woman,” offered Jane slyly.
Helena gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Come, now that the air is clear and we have surmised that you can walk, we can get this nightgown off of you and get you into a bath. My lady’s maid will happily assist you, after which you will no doubt need to rest once more. I’ll check in on you in a few hours.” She smiled and departed, leaving Jane at the mercy of a stranger.
The maid simply guided her to the water closet and allowed her a few moments of privacy before aiding her into the waiting bath—tepid indeed, but a relief nonetheless—where the maid bathed her skin and washed her hair with practiced ease.
None of it felt familiar to Jane, not being scrubbed nor oiled nor waited upon. The maid took special care when washing around the dressings covering her wound. When finished, she lightly peeled back the damp bandage and let it fall to the floor. Jane looked down at the rust-stained fabric and felt her stomach lurch.
“It does not look too poorly, my lady,” the maid assured her with a smile. “Shouldn’t be a nasty scar.”
She returned the smile. “Just Jane, please.” It might not be her real name, but she found it fit her better than being referred to so formally. The maid nodded but Jane was certain she had made her uncomfortable. She did not speak again while she wrapped a clean bandage around her head, dried her off and helped her into a silk dressing robe.
Back in the bedroom, the maid sat her before the vanity and stepped away, allowing Jane a moment to contemplate her reflection for the first time since her accident.
The bandage, bruising, and slight swelling stole most of her immediate attention, but it didn’t take long for Jane to surmise that her features, like the ring, were not going to lift her buried memories to the surface. Nothing about the way she looked shocked her, but her face was about as familiar as a stranger’s. She peered closer, noting that her eyes were a peculiar shade of gray, her lips were an entirely acceptable shape framing a generous mouth, and her brows were perhaps a tad strong for the rest of her features. She traced her fingers along her cheek, wondering if it was a love of the sun that had her freckles staying with her well into the winter. She tucked a lock of dark, wet hair behind her ear. It was longer than she’d expected when unbound from the braid, reaching down to the small of her back.
Overall, not recognizing herself was not as distressing an experience as she’d anticipated. After all, she was a foreigner in her own mind, residing in the country manor of the Earl of Belhaven, a man she hadn’t even met.
In many ways she was lost. Adrift. Alone.
Sitting straighter, she resolved to do something about it. What, she wasn’t precisely sure. But she could walk now, and while her head ached, there was much that could be done in the face of a little pain. She couldn’t rely on the kindness of the Maycotts forever. Surely, Jane was beginning to overstay her welcome.
The maid returned and tended to Jane’s hair, pulling the strands into a serviceable braid. By then, she was so famished the gurgling in her stomach did not go unnoticed.
“I’ve sent for a plate, my lady,” the maid assured her, steadfastly choosing to let Jane’s request regarding her name go unheeded. “Should be here shortly. You should get some rest.”
Jane thanked her and watched her leave in the reflection of the mirror, intending to ignore the suggestion as soon as she’d had something to eat.
It didn’t take long for a tray of food to arrive, and even less time for Jane to devour it in its entirety. The dishes were hearty, if bland, but something as simple as porridge and oatcakes verged on the sublime now that Jane’s appetite had returned. She washed it down with three cups of strong tea as she decided what to do next. Finding something tangible to jog her memory seemed a reasonable course of action, but she knew every inch of her chambers now. She needed something new.
A cursory search of the wardrobe showed it was stuffed full of gowns, varying from relaxed, flowing morning gowns to robust hunting costumes made of thick and hardy fabrics, to tiered evening gowns adorned with lace trimmings, all of them in pristine condition, if not unworn entirely.
Jane wondered who they once belonged to, and if it was appropriate for her to borrow one. She considered that as everything she had worn since her arrival had been lent to her, surely the Maycotts wouldn’t mind this time. She selected the plainest-looking tea gown she could find in the sea of finery, hoping she would be able to manage putting it on without the benefit of a maid.
It was made of pale pink silk, with fitted sleeves, a modest neckline, and a medium-length train. She pulled it on over her head without much trouble, feeling scandalized by the idea that she would have to go without undergarments or a corset, though relieved when it settled around her and she saw that the excess planes of fabric acted like an outer robe, somewhat shielding the curves of her body from view.
By the time she was clothed, Jane was exhausted. She poured herself another fortifying cup of tea and shot it back like a dram of medicine. She didn’t have time to be tired, or to languish and let the world pass her by. Until she knew who she was, Jane was vulnerable. She needed answers, and answers would not be found in this room.
Stepping into the hall felt like an accomplishment after days abed. Wandering down the corridor was a feat of strength, strength she hadn’t been sure she possessed, and navigating the stairs was a welcome revelation. She moved slowly, careful not to exert herself too much, and eager to take in all of the magnificence of Mulgrave Hall. Her sense of awe was proving to be a mark against the possibility of her being a lady who would be used to such extravagance. Everywhere she looked, she found herself shocked by the beauty of the architecture or the intricate furniture or the masterfully rendered paintings lining the walls. The grand windows she passed revealed a snowy landscape of rolling hills and frosted trees, none of it familiar, but none of it so dissimilar from how she had imagined it from her bed. Did that mean she knew the area? Perhaps she had not traveled very far on horseback before her accident. Or perhaps she had been riding for days. It infuriated her to no end that she had no way of knowing.
She was relieved not to pass any of the Maycotts, though she didn’t think what she was doing was wrong. Jane wasn’t a prisoner, and while Helena would likely faint to see her upright and very much out of bed, she didn’t think anyone would seek to stop her exploring. They wanted her memories restored as much as she did. Lord Jasper most of all.
Thoughts of his heated gaze sent a flush to Jane’s cheeks, making her feel woozy in her already weakened state. She braced herself against a doorway, taking deep breaths through her nose until the feeling subsided. She had to get a grip on herself. If the mere thought of him gave her the vapors, she wouldn’t survive seeing him in the flesh again. It was his intense manner that dizzied her, she told herself. Not one inch of Lord Jasper was nonchalant. She suspected that he didn’t do things by half—he felt the full breadth of his emotions, be it his frustration with the gaps in her memory or his tireless zeal to see her healed and out of his home.
She wondered if positive emotions would elicit the same intensity in him, and what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his joy or his passion. Could his love for a woman ever match the force of the cold fury he had directed her way, brief but potent as it was? That woman would be lucky indeed, she suspected, feeling a flash of jealousy she refused to acknowledge. Because regardless of their mild enmity and Lady Adelaide’s assumption that she wasn’t aware of how lucky she was to have been injured on his land, Jane knew that Lord Jasper was a good man. Another might have taken advantage of her or left her to fend for herself, but something in his nature made either of those options an impossibility, and it was that part of him that intrigued her.
But that was where she had to leave it. Nothing good would come from her exploring how the man made her feel. It didn’t matter. Once she recovered her memories, the Maycotts would themselves become a happy one. Surely, she had a life she needed to get back to.
She straightened her spine and left the safe embrace of the doorway.
Instinct led her to the manor’s library. Her heart warmed at the thought of being surrounded by books and she tucked away the notion that they brought her joy, adding to her meager foundation from which she hoped to rediscover herself.
As she neared the library’s doors, voices from within slowed her down. She didn’t wish to intrude if any of the Maycott siblings were receiving guests. Heavens, what if the earl and the countess were present? Jane felt herself shrink at the possibility, desperate as she was to not meet a man of his stature in her current state.
Still, curiosity got the better of her. She stepped as close as she could to the entrance, pressing herself to the wall and straining to hear what was occurring inside.
“Aunt, Jane is harmless, I assure you.” That was angelic Helena, defending her as usual.
“Be that as it may, no one can know she is a stranger suffering from an ailment of the mind, discovered alone on the grounds of Mulgrave Hall. Women have been confined to asylums for much less.”
Jane’s heartbeat quickened. How close was she to being shut away? Her mind rioted at the thought, and she knew then that she would rather flee into the bitter cold and the unknown than face that certain misery. She had already lost enough autonomy; she could not stand to lose any more.
“Too true, Aunt Adelaide. We live in a society that punishes women for mere eccentricity, labelling it ‘hysteria’ and deeming us ungovernable shrews in the process,” said Isobel, her voice dripping with contempt.
“That was not an invitation for a political screed, Isobel.”
“And yet I never seem to let an opportunity pass me by.”
“We won’t be advertising that information, Aunt.” Lord Jasper’s voice was as stern as she remembered, the kind of voice that belonged to a man whose every command was heeded. It made her want to defy him, if only to see how he would react.
“How fortunate you are that I arrived in time,” said Lady Adelaide sagely.
“You certainly seem to believe it an act of providence,” came Lord Jasper’s exasperated reply.
She sniffed. “If rescuing wayward maidens is how you were spending your time prior to my arrival, then I’d say I couldn’t have come soon enough.”
Jane bristled at the thought of being considered a “wayward maiden” before the logical part of her mind reminded her that it was somewhat of an apt description.
“This is novel, even for him, Aunt Adelaide.” That sounded like Lady Isobel’s raspy voice.
“We haven’t had a visitor in ages,” sighed a dreamy, childlike voice Jane hadn’t heard before.
“No callers whatsoever?” asked Lady Adelaide in an incredulous tone.
“We’ve been in mourning,” said Lord Jasper in a tone that brooked no further conversation. Jane hadn’t known they were in mourning. She hadn’t seen enough of Lady Helena or Lady Isobel to note that they wore black or gray exclusively. Her skin heated. If Jane had considered herself an imposition before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Who had passed, she wondered. Their mother? Her heart clenched at the thought.
“To be sure, nephew. But it is your duty as the—”
“We will not discuss duty.” It was said rather quietly but Jane couldn’t imagine that Lady Adelaide would argue further.
“I simply desire to impress upon you the seriousness of the situation, Jasper.”
“What is it about my behavior that suggests I’m not taking this seriously?” It was a good point, Jane thought, given his tone.
“It is not simply a matter of concealing the truth. You must also lie. Turn the mysterious woman into a dull story before a more interesting one emerges.”
There was a weighty pause as the Maycotts considered her suggestion. Jane felt odd, standing on the threshold of a conversation about her future. But making herself known to them seemed the worse option. Better to listen and make her decision from there.
“We can say she is an old friend from Cheltenham, come for a visit,” Helena offered.
Lady Adelaide made a noise to indicate her disgust. “What a waste that was. Sending the two of you away for no reason at all.”
“It was my only chance to learn advanced chemistry,” Lady Isobel argued.
“And did you return a chemist, Isobel? Or did you return a budding suffragist?” Their aunt said the word as though it were a disease.
“Which would you have preferred, Aunt?”
“Neither. Married is how I’d prefer you.”
“Ah, but how could I be wed without a single Season under my belt? I’d say I’m well on my way to becoming a spinster.” She did not sound displeased at the possibility.
“Nineteen may be too old to have never had a Season, but it is still young , Isobel.”
“Back to the subject at hand, I’d say my idea is a sound one. No one would know that Jane isn’t an old friend.”
“Yes, that seems reasonable, Helena,” Lord Jasper replied, causing Jane’s heartbeat to flutter. They were deciding her fate, after all.
“It will be very difficult to control the situation should the truth come out,” warned Lady Adelaide.
“Well, then I suppose it is a good thing that Mulgrave Hall will house only a few wayward Maycotts over the holiday,” sighed Lord Jasper, sounding overwhelmed by the prospect already.
A noise behind Jane startled her nearly out of her skin. Mulgrave Hall’s tiresome butler passed her without acknowledgment. He announced himself to those within by clearing his throat.
“Yes, Battersby?” asked Lord Jasper. Jane was still holding her breath, pressed against the wall rather uselessly now that her hiding place had been discovered.
“Your guests have sent word that the road has proven too perilous for their carriages, so they plan on completing their journey when the storm abates.”
“Our guests?” Lord Jasper asked as though the word were foreign to him.
Then Lady Isobel swore most impressively, causing Lady Adelaide to gasp as though her niece had pulled a revolver from within her skirts. Jane couldn’t see anything, hidden as she was.
“I completely forgot about the surprise,” came Lady Isobel’s distressed voice.
“Isobel?” A name had never sounded so threatening to Jane’s ears.
“I planned it so long ago, it seemed like such a good idea then,” Lady Isobel protested.
“Tell me you did not invite your friends to a holiday party at Mulgrave Hall.”
“I didn’t,” she said defensively, as though the suggestion was an insult. The silence that followed was nigh unendurable. Jane could picture Lady Isobel squirming under the weight of it. She herself felt ready to crawl into the earth to avoid the rest of the conversation.
“Well?” asked Lord Jasper, ever stern.
Has he ever had a bit of fun?
“I didn’t invite my friends, Jasper,” she said contritely. “I invited yours.”