Chapter Seventeen
Jane
Despite Viola’s enthusiasm, Jane was not sure what to expect when she entered Mulgrave Hall’s great room.
She had only agreed because decorating a tree did not sound like too taxing of an activity. In fact, she might be able to watch as Viola managed most of it on her own, especially after the girl revealed that it was a tree Jasper had chosen and cut down himself. She pictured a modest tree, something befitting the somber atmosphere Jasper had been cultivating before chaos had descended on his home against his will.
But…once again, he managed to surprise her.
Jasper had selected a mighty evergreen that towered above them, and every railing, doorway, and mantel was wrapped with boughs of fresh greenery, transforming the room into something out of a Christmas card. And his friends and family milled about, which she supposed should not have surprised her. There were, after all, only so many things to do in a country manor in December. Trimming the tree was an enjoyable way to waste a day, even if she would have rather avoided the lot of them.
The rest of the guests were more or less happy to see her recovered. Miss Beatrice, having convinced herself that Jane suffered from hysteria, recommended a rigorous course of smelling salts and brisk air, and to avoid the rest of the party altogether, lest her delicate condition progress to a nervous disorder. Clarence made a show of clearing space for her on the settee, should she find herself in need of a soft place to land next time she fainted. She made a silent vow to spend the afternoon standing just to spite him.
“Miss Danvers, I am delighted you were able to join us. Would you like to help me with the fruit garland?” asked Lady Louisa, a spread of dried cranberries and orange slices before her.
“The fruit garland has always been my favorite decoration,” she replied, a curious sensation coming over her as she spoke without thinking.
Isobel caught her eye and tilted her head. A memory? the gesture asked. Jane nodded, clinging to its fine tendrils with a desperate grip. The smell of cinnamon and melting wax, the roughness of a pinecone in her palm, a fire roaring before her. Was it home she was remembering?
But just as quickly as it came, the memory was gone, leaving her colder in its absence. She looked down at the table to see Lady Louisa had pushed a pile of dried orange slices and a spool of yarn toward her. It was time to get to work.
Viola was her shadow as she strung the fruit and knotted the yarn, the girl prattling on about every subject under the sun, from botany to politics to local gossip. She had a seemingly endless well to draw upon, even after they had spent the afternoon and evening before in each other’s company, but Jane suspected much of that had to do with the girl finding a more receptive audience than she was used to. Jane was happy to listen to her argue the merits of allowing girls to take up fencing (in Viola’s mind it was only logical, especially in the apparently inevitable event of a duel) as she finished the garlands and hung them on the tree, feeling accomplished.
By then, Isobel had stolen her sister away to sort through the many boxes of ornaments that kept appearing, carried out from the bowels of Mulgrave Hall by a very perturbed Battersby, leaving Jane time to observe the room.
Clarence was pestering Lady Louisa as they continued with the cherry garland under the watchful and reproachful eye of her brother Edgar. Lucian and George were engaged in what appeared to be a ferocious battle of a baccarat game with Jasper’s brothers Frederick and August, the latter looking increasingly frazzled as time went on, leading Jane to believe there was no small sum of money on the line. Miss Beatrice was stringing popcorn garlands alone, having refused assistance from all who offered, while Helena and her sisters were dusting beautiful glass decorations in preparation for the trimming.
It was a peaceful, if chaotic scene, but something was missing.
Someone, rather.
Like her, Jasper seemed to be observing from across the room, holding himself at a distance from the people he loved. It was so bloody typical of him. And so, Jane decided to coax him into participating. She began to make her way toward him, careful not to cross his line of vision before it was too late for him to escape.
“I must commend you on your selection of the tree, my lord.” She didn’t mean for the honorific to put distance between them, but in a room full of strangers, it didn’t feel right to use his name.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, as if reluctant to see all of her at once. “You are feeling better, then?”
“‘Better’ seems a relative term, but yes, I am much improved.” She tilted her head, silently attempting to catch his eye. “I am told I have you to thank for my quick recovery.” A muscle in his jaw tensed. He still wouldn’t look at her, still retreated behind a wall of propriety when she knew they were well past such things. “You and Dr. Hill,” she added. “Thank you for coming to my rescue again, and my apologies for being in need of it. I hope to one day prove I am not always a damsel in distress.”
Finally, he looked at her, his gaze sharp as a knife against her skin. She couldn’t stop herself from gasping when she felt the full force of it. His eyes fell to her mouth. He opened his, and the words that followed were low and insistent. “Jane, I will never—”
But they were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Edgar. Jasper took a step back from her, swallowing something that sounded like a grunt. He stood straighter. Donned his mask once more.
Edgar didn’t seem to notice the tension brewing between them. “Jasper, Miss Danvers,” he said in greeting, offering them both a small bow.
Jane couldn’t help but notice how Jasper’s fist tightened against the table. Edgar turned his attention toward her. “Miss Danvers, would you mind helping me with the tree candles? I’ve been tasked with lighting them.”
“I’d be glad,” she replied, not sparing a look at Jasper. She had come to thank him for taking care of her the night before, and thank him she had. Her part of it was done, and it was clear he intended to pretend there was no closeness between them, despite the care he had shown her in private. Pride would keep her from begging him for more than he was willing to give. She took Edgar’s arm and left him standing there, silent as the grave.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Mr. Ashwell,” she whispered, not entirely sure what he had rescued her from.
“Edgar, please,” he said. “And think nothing of it, it is you who is rescuing me from a task I am woefully unqualified for, Miss Danvers.”
“Jane,” she replied with a smile as they approached the tree. “If I may, how long have you known Lord Belhaven?”
“Oh, Jasper and I have been friends since infancy,” he replied with a grin, handing her a thin taper. The tree was heavily laden with candles; their task would take them some time. He lit a match to light the tapers. “Our mothers were dear friends long before we were born,” he replied before blowing out the match. “It was a happy circumstance indeed that saw them married to earls with estates so near each other.”
“It would be so lovely to live near a friend,” Jane remarked.
“And you, Jane? Do you have many friends close to your home in Buckinghamshire?”
This was what she had been hoping to avoid. Jane had no desire to invent a life for herself when her own was miserably out of reach. And the thought of lying to a man so kind as Edgar brought her no joy whatsoever. How could a friendship be built upon such shaky foundations? At least the Maycotts knew the truth of her affliction.
Still, she didn’t have much of a choice. She would use it as an exercise of her mind. She would tell lies in the hopes that they would cause the truth to emerge.
“‘Many’ is a strong word, but yes, I am lucky enough to have some friends close,” she replied, lighting her first candle, one that rested between a beautiful glass angel and a fragrant bundle of cinnamon sticks.
“Well, I hope that if we have not succeeded in scaring you off, you will consider your circle of friends widened. I know Louisa would like that very much.” Jane couldn’t help but feel a flare of guilt in her chest, knowing in her gut that Edgar truly meant what he said, even as she knew it could never happen. “Miss Beatrice I cannot speak for,” he added with a grimace. “Though I am sure she would consider it an insult to be included,” he added with a whisper.
Jane barked out a laugh. “I would never be so bold as to assume anything of Miss Beatrice, my lord, friendship least of all.”
They crossed each other then, their paths around the tree having intersected. Jane hadn’t expected him so close, and she tripped over her own feet in an effort not to bump into him. All at once, she was falling, cursing herself and her clumsiness in equal measure.
But Edgar caught her, righting her rather quickly and without much fuss.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I’m still a bit unsteady on my feet.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said, his hand still gripping her waist. It took longer than it should for him to notice they still touched. When he did, he dropped his hand to his side and took a step back, offering her a small, formal bow as if to reestablish proper boundaries.
Jane looked around, fearing Lady Adelaide’s razor-sharp gaze, but no one had noticed them.
No one save for Jasper, whose expression was unreadable. Blank, even.
Heat rose to Jane’s cheeks, but she banished the sticky feeling of shame that accompanied it. She had done nothing wrong. Edgar had done nothing wrong. But why did it feel like a betrayal? And to who ?
Ignoring that emotion, she carried on with lighting the candles, those within reach, as Edgar continued above her. He made conversation and slowly the feeling of shame receded. Eventually, Viola and Helena came over to them, remarking on their job well done, and the room descended again into its happy chaos.
Jane, caught up in the moment, smiled as she scanned the room for Jasper, seeking him out to share in the joy that bubbled all around them. But she could only watch as he left, his departure going unnoticed by everyone else. With so quiet and somber a presence in a room of boisterous activity, it was easy to understand why his friends did not miss him as of yet.
But Jane did.
Standing there among his family and friends, she felt his absence like a hollow deep within her. She would have taken his critical gaze over his leaving entirely. He should be with the people he loved, and if she had to force him, so be it. She saw it as her solemn duty, dragging him back into the world he’d left behind. Let him hate her for it. She owed him as much.
Sensing her opportunity, Jane excused herself. Given her condition the night before, no one pressed her to stay. She assured them she only needed a quick rest and she would be ready for dinner.
No one noticed when she turned left toward the library instead of toward her room.