Chapter Twenty
Jane
The Lavender Room seemed to shrink with each pounding beat of Jane’s heart. She felt as if she were falling and nothing could stop her. There were too many people witnessing her descent, too many kind eyes looking at her with pity and fear.
Seeking solid ground, she looked back at Jasper. “What exactly did I say?”
His eyes were sharp on her, not with anger, but with concern. She wasn’t disguising her rising panic well enough. “Your horse was nowhere to be found, but you were warm, your blood was still warm. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since your accident. I sent Helena and Isobel ahead of me for help. When I picked you up, I waited to ensure you were still breathing, and when your eyes opened your pupils narrowed on me. You said ‘ Don’t let them get me, ’ before losing consciousness again.”
It was as robust a description as she could have hoped for, so Jane was not surprised when the room faded as a memory filled her mind, and with it, a sense of urgency that set her teeth on edge.
Hoofbeats cracking through snow. Heaving, gasping breaths. Ice filling her lungs. Tears frozen on her cheeks. And fear, true fear, gripping her as tightly as she gripped the reins.
She was being hunted, and there was no safe place left for her in the world.
“Jane?” Helena’s voice broke her reverie. “Are you all right?”
“I—I remember fleeing through the woods. I was on a horse. I didn’t know where to go,” she spoke in fragments, trying to collect the pieces before they faded. “I was being chased,” she concluded darkly.
Helena took her hand. “By whom?” she asked softly.
Jane’s brow creased and she strained for more, but her mind was empty. “I do not know, but I was afraid.” It was an odd sensation, to remember the fear but not feel it. “More than afraid,” she added, parsing out her buried emotions. “I was desperate. I was without hope.”
When she had first woken up in the Lavender Room, she had felt that something was wrong beyond the pounding in her head. Those feelings, that fear and hopelessness had been strong enough to follow her from her old life, through her injury, and stay with her when she’d emerged on the other side.
But she had dismissed them. She’d felt safe enough with the Maycotts to ignore the primal urge to flee. She had thought them phantom emotions, but now she knew they had been real.
“You didn’t see anyone?” she asked Jasper, who was looking at her like he expected her to collapse or run at any moment. “You didn’t hear anything?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t stay in the road long enough to investigate. You were bleeding quite a bit.”
“And you didn’t think to tell the rest of us?” Isobel demanded.
“What good would it have done? Jane was already a mystery to us; I didn’t wish to make a sensation out of her, or tell her something that may have delayed her healing.” Jane nodded, still not able to look anyone in the eye. According to Jasper, someone had been chasing her. Hunting her. Maybe they were still. Jasper picked up on her unease. “For all we know, it was a group of robbers after what they thought would be an easy mark, only Jane was clever enough to escape them.”
“Or Jane-without-a-surname has a salacious background the likes of which even Viola couldn’t have dreamed of,” said Isobel, her voice heavy with admiration.
“Or it’s nothing,” chimed Helena, aiming for a positive note but coming across as slightly hysteric. “Perhaps it was the result of her rather traumatic head injury. She did proceed to faint and lose her memories. It does seem as though an invented sense of impending doom might be a part of that.”
Jane found she couldn’t quite commit to any of the options. She didn’t have enough information to dismiss anonymous bandits or a false memory or worse yet, people from her past who wished to do her harm. It was enormously frustrating to only have a small piece of the puzzle. All she knew for certain was that she had been alone, and that ultimately, she was still alone. Because what did it mean that no one had come looking for her? Had she truly traveled some great distance, making it impossible for the people she left behind to find her?
Or had that been the intent all along? To escape them fully?
It was the not-knowing that would kill her in the end. She couldn’t live with so much uncertainty. Jane had to find a way to uncover the truth. Perhaps a ball wasn’t the worst way to discover someone who might know her. If she could somehow get some answers about that night, perhaps she could move forward.
Jasper had been studying her as she collected her thoughts. She knew him well enough by now to know that he was holding himself back from comforting her in front of his family. She found she craved it nonetheless. Craved him. He had been so honest with her at last, and all she wanted was to give him that same honesty.
But she couldn’t. Not until she knew what had happened to her that night.
Their eyes met and she thought he must have been able to read her mind for how quickly he crossed the room, closing the gap between them in three long strides. The others had the decency to step away and converse amongst themselves, offering them a modicum of privacy.
“Jane, my intention has always been to protect you, and I would have told you about what you said to me soon enough, sooner still if we had not been descended upon by a horde of unwanted guests.”
She rested her hand on his forearm, an intimate, if a bit muted, gesture. She felt the heat of him beneath her fingertips nevertheless, felt as it spread through her, working to calm her frayed nerves. “I am not angry with you.” She wasn’t. She believed him when he said he would have told her.
Relief washed over him, smoothing his furrowed brow. “Then you must also agree that Mulgrave Hall is the safest place for you until you recover your memories.”
“I don’t disagree,” she started, hedging a bit.
“So we won’t be attending the ball, then,” he added, reaching the logical conclusion of his argument.
He was going to be very angry with her. But it couldn’t be helped. “We must go to the ball, Jasper.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I hardly think whoever I may have been running from will be in attendance.” It was, at the very least, a bit of a lie. Jane had every intention of ferreting out anyone who might know her and discovering the truth about that night. Whether or not she had any hope of success was a different matter. “And besides, we will be masked, no?” He refused to acknowledge the point. She would have to try a different tack. “I cannot go the rest of my life relying on your kindness and protection.” His expression suggested that arrangement would be perfectly acceptable to him, but what mattered most was that it would not be acceptable to her. “I cannot live in fear, Jasper. I cannot live like this .”
His lips were pressed in a stern, disapproving line. “You cannot think that being reckless is living, either, Jane.”
“Neither is simply surviving,” she said, aiming directly at the part of him that recalled their previous argument in the library, when he had hidden behind a promise no one had ever asked him to make.
He glared at her, his expression unyielding. She would have read it as sternness before, as annoyance, even. But after he had told her about Annabelle and the pain he carried with him every day, Jane found she understood him better. Jasper was not stern, he was a man who could not stand to lose anyone else, one who had protected himself and his family by shutting everything out. Had he been right to do it? Perhaps not, but Jane could not fault him for it. Not after what the Maycotts had been through.
But he had changed so much in their brief time together. She had, too, she suspected, both of them transforming into greater versions of themselves. It was lunacy, then, to expect more from this man who had given her so much of himself, but Jane couldn’t help it.
He seemed to be waiting for her to speak, but Jane was floundering. She wished she had a way to convince Jasper that they needed to attend that ball without having to explain her true reasoning: that she would never fully trust him or herself until she knew who she was.
As if he had read her mind again, Jasper spoke low. “If you’re doing this because you think I require it, you are mistaken.”
His reversal on the matter of her past brought her comfort, but worse than what she had suspected of Jasper was what Jane suspected of herself. What if her background was as salacious as Viola’s novels? What if the Maycotts were not safe with her entangled in their lives? She could not put them in danger, not after all they had done for her. Not when one more tragedy could break them fully.
“ I require it, Jasper.” The others fell silent in the wake of her emphatic declaration. She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. “I cannot stand here in ignorance as my old life hangs over me like a blade, and I cannot move forward if a part of me is locked in the past.” Jasper had been vulnerable with her, had trusted her with the deep, dark parts of him she had craved to know. She needed to be known by him in the same way.
She expected him to argue, to demand she see reason. But Jasper only sighed. “So be it.”
“We’re going to the ball?” asked Isobel from across the room, evidently having heard every word of their hushed conversation.
Jane didn’t look away from Jasper when she replied. “Yes,” she said, studying the man she was beginning to fear she loved, as he wrestled with indulging her supposed recklessness and his desire to protect her. It mattered to her that he understood her reasoning enough to swallow his own reservations. “Yes, we’re going to the ball.”
Isobel let out a triumphant squeal, sending Mr. Darcy racing from her arms and under the bed. “You know what that means.”
“I cannot begin to imagine,” replied Jasper with a groan.
“Jane’s going to need one hell of a gown,” said Isobel as she looked around the room, smiling wickedly. “And I have just the ticket.”
…
After the gentlemen had been unceremoniously dismissed from the room and tea and biscuits had been ordered and devoured, Isobel wasted no time in wrangling Jane into a frothy concoction of berry-red velvet and black lace.
“I feel as though I am in a costume,” Jane complained, examining the bits of herself that she could in the mirror. Despite its myriad folds and frills, she felt nearly naked, with the low neckline revealing all too much of her chest and the sleeves falling artfully off her shoulders. It was a magnificent creation, but meant for someone else. Someone who knew without a shadow of a doubt who she was and where she belonged in the world.
Someone distinctly unlike Jane.
“Think of it as armor,” Isobel replied from behind her as she laced the gown. “Lord and Lady Banfield’s estate is your battlefield.”
“And my weapons?” Jane asked sarcastically as she tried to pull the dress over her almost indecently exposed bosom.
“Your charm and wit,” Isobel replied with a wink.
“And us, of course,” Helena added, eyeing Isobel sternly and looking very much like her brother.
“Of course,” Isobel hastily agreed. “We will not leave your side, Jane.”
“If this is to be your first foray into Society since…” Jane paused, unsure of how to refer to their collective tragedy and opting instead to simply move past her blunder. “I should hardly think you’ll enjoy being my chaperones.”
“Nonsense,” said Helena. “Like it or not, we are your friends, Jane. And we shall not leave you to the wolves.”
“Besides,” added Isobel, hairpins falling from her mouth as she twisted Jane’s hair into something complicated and impossible to replicate. “I think you’ll find we’re as rusty as you are when it comes to socialization.” She stopped and observed her handiwork. “Why, I’m positively feral compared to Lady Louisa. But will I let that stop me?”
Helena sighed. “Regretfully, no.”
“Precisely,” said Isobel. “Now gaze upon my masterpiece.”
She stepped away from the mirror, allowing Jane to see herself for the first time, fully transformed. Her breath caught in her chest. The dress was armor. Better yet, it was a shield. No one would think she didn’t belong in Lord Banfield’s ballroom clothed as she was.
“This dress… It’s like witchcraft.” She studied her reflection, searching for even a hint of familiarity the fine attire might offer her. But she was a stranger to herself. Standing very still, she might have been fooled into thinking she was looking at a portrait of someone she did not know. Someone she had never met. She looked at Isobel in the mirror. “I don’t think I deserve a gown so…”
“Perfect?” Isobel guessed. “Alas that it is only perfect for you, dear Jane,” she said, gesturing toward the hem, which fell to Jane’s ankles and would have barely covered Isobel’s calves. “I had the dress made for my first Season. Had to go to a specific dressmaker on Bond Street. You see, the lacework is very intricate; not many seamstresses have that skill. Somehow, she got my measurements wrong, only I didn’t notice until we had arrived back at Mulgrave Hall. By then the dress didn’t seem to matter.”
Jane shook her head. “I do not think I should—”
“Wear the gown, Jane.” She put her hand on Jane’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I must have been saving it for you. It fits you like a glove.”
“Speaking of gloves,” said Helena, procuring a pair of black silk gloves from a pouch that had accompanied the dress.
The sisters helped Jane put them on, buttoning them up past her elbows.
“There,” said a satisfied Helena. “All done.”
Jane’s hand went to the bandage at her temple. “What about this? I do not wish to field a hundred questions about my injury.”
“Ah, but you haven’t seen the best part,” Isobel exclaimed, waving a black satin and lace mask before her. “You’ll be in a mask so no one will even know you’re injured.”
“I assume that’s not the only thing they won’t know about me,” Jane added.
“Yes, I suspect you’ll have to take on an air of mystery, Miss Jane Danvers. If you’re asked a question you don’t have an answer for, may I recommend excusing yourself for some air. We delicate females are in constant need of it, and no one would dare pester a lady professing to that particular weakness.”
“How exactly will this fit over my spectacles? I’m not sure if you recall but I am rather blind without them.”
“Our mother wore spectacles as well. She had this mask made to accommodate them, see?” Isobel turned it over, revealing a great deal of padding on the underside of the mask, enough to cushion around her spectacles and hold them in place. “May I?”
Jane nodded and brought the mask to her face so Isobel could tie it around her head.
“Comfortable?” she asked.
Jane looked toward the mirror. The mask didn’t cover her bandage entirely. She brought her fingers to the borders of it, wishing she could do away with it entirely.
“Only the most shameless gossips will press you on it, Jane,” said Isobel with confidence. “Everyone else will politely pretend they do not see it.”
Helena smirked. “A favorite pastime of the aristocracy.”
“I do believe you’re ready now,” said Isobel.
“Wait!” came a screech from the hall. Viola burst into the room waving a ribbon in the air. “Miss Jane must wear this around her neck. All the ladies in London do.” She held out the ribbon, revealing the star-shaped pendant inlaid with black jewels that hung from the center.
“It’s beautiful, Lady Viola,” said Jane.
“It’s a costume brooch, not worth much,” Viola told her sheepishly. “Stars are terribly fashionable,” she added somewhat defensively.
“Do you know that from personal experience, Viola?” Isobel asked sarcastically.
Viola offered her a glare. “Cousin Effie sends me fashion plates.”
“Well, who are we to deny the sartorial wisdom of Cousin Effie?” asked Helena as she took the choker from Viola and looked for approval to Jane, who nodded. Once secured, anyone could see the necklace completed the look.
Jane thumbed the brooch, marveling at the sparkle of it. “Thank you, Lady Viola.”
“It’s not much,” the girl said.
“And yet it means so much to me,” said Jane, hoping Viola understood.
“Will Jane be the only fashionable lady at the ball or do you have more ribbons and jewels for the rest of us?” Isobel asked.
“I have more,” Viola replied, pulling scads of the same black ribbon from her pockets and delighting Mr. Darcy, who batted at the tendrils most ferociously.
“You and your ribbons must help me pick out my own gown,” said Isobel. “You are tasked with making me look at least half as good as Jane does in my castoffs.”
Viola pouted. “I haven’t talked with Miss Jane since the tree trimming and I have much to report. I believe my lady’s maid has developed a tendre for a footman, and I believe the footman has a tender regard of his own for my governess, it’s very indelicate—”
Helena began to steer Viola out of the room. “Let’s give Jane a moment to collect her thoughts, Viola. She’ll be available to discuss matters of the heart with you tomorrow morning.”
“Will you?” Viola asked, almost as sternly as her brother would have.
“Indeed,” Jane replied. “Who else am I to share my research with?”
Helena and Isobel gave them both quizzical looks but Jane merely offered them a secretive smile.
Viola nodded sagely. “Over breakfast, then.”
And then the trio left the Lavender Room, taking Mr. Darcy and any sense of frivolity with them, and suddenly, Jane was entirely alone.
She had hardly had any time to truly contemplate what Jasper had told her about Annabelle, to say nothing of what he went on to reveal about what she had said to him after her accident. She thought she should feel more adrift than she did, given the circumstances. But having a plan, small as it was, served to ground her.
With a plan, anything is possible. She paused and pressed her hand to her stomach, a queer feeling coming over her. Was that an adage from the old Jane, uncovered as though she were an archaeologist of her own memories, sifting through layers of time? There was a certain unconscious familiarity to it, like walking a well-known path in the pitch dark. It did not bring her comfort. Was she doomed to remember only the smallest slivers of her old life, as inconsequential as they were brief?
A shiver ran through her. She didn’t have time to dwell upon melancholy thoughts. But she could not drag herself from the mirror. It was not vanity that kept her there, but rather the promise of a future she wasn’t sure belonged to her. She was mesmerized by it, by this version of herself that did not exist, but perhaps could. A woman in a beautiful gown, as sure of her place in the world as she was in herself.
Could it last? Could that future be hers? Jasper had been inching ever closer to letting her in, but was that love?
It didn’t matter. If she did not know herself, it would never feel real. How could she build a new life upon a foundation that might crumble to dust beneath her feet? How could she expect another to trust her with their heart when she did not know her own?
She buried her fears and her desires both, choosing to cling only to the pursuit of the truth, and left her room. It seemed an eternity had passed since that morning with Jasper in the library. The halls of the manor were cold and dim, but Jane had her convictions to keep her warm. Regardless of what occurred that evening, she would have something resembling an answer. If she were the least bit noble, surely someone would recognize her. And if no one did, then perhaps that was answer enough.
She reached the staircase and saw all of the Maycotts, save for Viola and Freddie, waiting for her. Everyone was dressed for the ball, and Jane realized she had taken even longer than she meant to.
“We were about to send a search party,” called Isobel, wearing an indigo gown and matching pelisse, her ivory gloves peeking through the heavy wool and a silver satin mask framing her eyes beautifully. It was the most polished Jane had ever seen Isobel, and it suited her.
Helena tsk ed as Jane began her descent. “You can never be too late for a ball, Izzie, but you can be entirely too early.” Her gown was emerald, not unlike the one she had lent Jane before. On Helena, the color was a revelation. Her mask was dark like Jane’s but without lace or other trappings. It was almost plain in its construction and would, Jane suspected, serve to make her stand out all the more.
It struck her then that the sisters were no longer in mourning colors. It had been a year since they lost their parents and brother, she reminded herself. But it was a welcome surprise nevertheless, and made her think that perhaps the Maycotts had turned a page.
Jasper and August looked sharp in their dark tailcoats and white bowties. Dressed so similarly, Jane was able to see that the brothers looked alike, despite their differences. August’s mask was ivory trimmed with gold, Jasper’s plain black like Helena’s. August gave her a slight bow, and she thought she was beginning to see through his metaphorical mask, too, though he strove even harder than his brother to hide his true self.
“Where is everyone else?” she asked no one in particular.
“They’ve already left in their carriages. Beatrice could not be convinced to wait for you, and we sent the rest of them after her before she caused an incident. We’d rather like to remain in the Earl of Banfield’s good graces,” said Isobel.
“And Lady Adelaide?” Jane asked.
“Left with the other chaperones. I’d say she’s not particularly dedicated to her duties, wouldn’t you, Helena?” asked Isobel with a wicked grin.
“Likely thinks we’re lost causes,” Helena added brightly.
“Shall we, then?” August took a sister on each arm and guided them out the door.
“We’ll see you there, Jane,” called Isobel. “Don’t dally!”
Jasper met her at the bottom of the stairs, his hand outstretched for her to take. He was achingly handsome with his dark golden hair combed back and clean-shaven face. She found his mask, like hers, made him something of a stranger. Perhaps tonight they could enjoy the ball as two people unburdened by their respective pasts.
She felt the heat of his hand through her glove as he guided her from the stairs. He smelled divine—cedar and bergamot mixed with the smoky scent of scotch.
“You are breathtaking,” he said, his voice low despite them being alone. His breath tickled her neck, sending a shiver of icy heat through her. He retrieved her cloak, the one she had arrived at Mulgrave Hall in, from where it hung behind her, and settled it upon her shoulders. She went to button it but he shooed her away and took matters into his own hands. When he spoke, his attention was focused entirely on his task. “Let it be known that I still think this plan is foolish.”
There were a hundred things Jane could have said to placate him, excuses she could have fabricated to smooth things over, but she was hypnotized by the steady motion of his hands, and the way his knuckles brushed along her collarbone a little too slowly. Desire flooded her. She needed him, craved his touch, was desperate for it. If the truth about her past was about to break the spell between them, she wanted to take what was hers before it shattered.
Instead of speaking, Jane stood on her tiptoes and pulled him to her by his tie, kissing him before she thought better of it. If he was shocked by her boldness, he recovered quickly, one hand capturing her jaw, the other curling around the base of her neck, angling her head back so he could kiss her more deeply. His tongue moved against her lips, teasing them open as a sigh escaped her and she felt the hardness of him against her hip.
Jane didn’t think anything had ever felt so good. She was a woman without a past who spent most of her waking hours tormented by questions she could not answer, but when she was kissing Jasper, her mind emptied of every worry and concern, until all that was left was him and her and them together.
With Jasper she felt like a person whole, not a mystery in need of solving.
He moved his attention to her neck and she curled her fingers through his hair, cursing her gloves for keeping her from the softness of it. Her breath was heavy. Her breasts ached for his touch. She was wanton, need made flesh, and she felt no shame.
“Christ, Jane,” he whispered against her neck, his voice rough. “At this rate, we’ll never make it to Lord Banfield’s estate.” She felt him smile against her skin.
She pulled back so she could study his face. His eyes were hooded with desire; the hard line of his jaw had softened; there was almost no sternness left in him. She wanted to see him completely unguarded. Free. She wanted to be the one to make him feel that way. Jane almost told him to take her to his chambers, to hell with the ball. The words were on her tongue, begging to be said. She wanted to tear down the only wall left standing between them, to give herself to him and take him in return, forever sealing their fates.
But she forced herself to remember the real purpose of attending the ball. And how nothing could exist between the two of them until she knew the truth.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for.
He released her gently and brought a hand to her cheek. “You need never apologize to me,” he said. “Unless it is regarding the destruction of a certain pair of boots,” he added with a smirk.
Jane feigned innocence. “You’ll have to be more specific, my lord. You see, I have amnesia.”
He laughed at that, the kind that could not be forced. It was sweet as music to her, to hear him so unburdened. “A convenient excuse,” he said, guiding her to the door.
The outside air was cold and crisp and did much to loosen desire’s hold on Jane. She had a plan, a way forward. Regardless of what happened at the ball, she hoped she would emerge with answers. But for now, she was on the arm of the Earl of Belhaven, and she would let herself enjoy it while it lasted.
Jasper looked down at her and let his sternness fall back into place. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
It didn’t bother her. She knew the man beneath. “Let’s,” she agreed, trying very hard not to let fear of the unknown weigh down her steps. He wrapped his arm around her, sheltering her from the cold with his embrace. She felt protected, but how long would it last?
They walked toward the waiting carriage, but a persistent tapping noise broke through the howling of the wind. Jane looked back to see Freddie and Viola at a second-floor window, the latter holding a wiggling Mr. Darcy up to the glass and waving goodbye. It bolstered her meager supply of courage and tugged on Jane’s heartstrings both.
She would dearly miss the feeling of belonging at Mulgrave Hall if ever she was forced to leave it.