Chapter Twenty-Three
Hetty
The name was a tether.
It rooted Jane to the earth more than anything else since she’d awoken without her memories. Rooted Hetty to the earth. For that was who she was.
Hetty. She could hear her father’s voice. Hetty, my darling, my treasure.
She looked to the man who knew her, expecting his face to have the same effect upon her that her name had. But she felt nothing. He might as well have been a stranger. She noted he was uncommonly tall, perhaps only a couple of years older than her, with dark brown hair and pale skin and a bit of a weak chin. But other than what she could see before her, he was a mystery.
“Hetty? My God, we thought you were dead!” he cried, looking at her like she was a ghost. She had certainly felt like a phantom with the Maycotts, haunting a life that wasn’t meant to be hers. But this man knew her. Knew who she used to be. He could bring her back to life.
Her name had locked into place the moment he uttered it. An essential, undeniable truth. Why didn’t she know him as well as she knew her name?
Jasper had not yet relinquished his hold on her. Strauss’s composition built around them; the dancers continued. It was like no one else knew of the seismic shift that had occurred, to say nothing of the one that had preceded it.
Jasper had been ready to tell her he loved her. She knew it in her bones, just as she knew that hearing the words would seal her fate. But it hadn’t brought her joy nor peace. If anything, Jane felt as though she had tricked them both into believing a future together was possible. All night, a new conviction had been building in her, one that whispered that she was unknowable, unlovable. How could she be the Earl of Belhaven’s wife? How could they lie to everyone they met, claiming she was Miss Jane Danvers, then the Lady Belhaven, and expect their fantasy not to shatter? How long before someone discovered the truth? How long before they hurt Jasper’s family with it?
So Jane had decided the dance would be their last. It was a way of saying goodbye. She didn’t know what came next, but she would spare Jasper the pain of associating with her. Her past was a powder keg. She could not be so selfish as to pretend otherwise. But as they’d danced, Jane had let herself imagine a different future for them, one in which her past was not an obstacle. It was all the indulgence she would allow, a lifetime confined to one waltz. It would have to be enough.
It would never be enough.
Jasper didn’t lead, but rather allowed her to contribute to the movement. It was better than she could have hoped, to be held by him, his arms steady, his spine straight, his smile only for her. Half the women in the room had fallen in love with the Earl of Belhaven, but only she really knew Jasper Maycott. There was little victory in having uncovered him so thoroughly. Ultimately, she would be leaving him and he would suffer for it.
Though thinking of him with another was like a knife straight to her heart, Jane had silently prayed that Jasper would move on from her betrayal. That he would not don his mask again. He deserved a wife to be proud of, not one who would require an intricate web of secrets. And while the Maycotts would have been enough for her, Jane would never have been enough for them. There was no future for her there, only pain.
Jane, my Jane…
The way his voice had scraped over her, so close to being everything she wanted, yet so far from the truth. She was not Jane. Would never be his Jane.
But then she heard her name. Her real name. It slipped over her like a well-worn cloak and filled the empty parts of her like a flood of warmth.
She was not Jane, but she was Hetty.
And what had seemed impossible only seconds before became possible. If she knew her name, the rest would follow. If she knew her name, she could perhaps let Jasper love her.
But her mind was quickly overwhelmed by competing thoughts, and the ballroom was suddenly stifling and shrinking.
The man was looking at her expectantly, waiting for the obvious response.
“I’m sorry, I was in an accident…” she trailed off, not sure how to explain her injury in the middle of the ballroom while her legs buckled beneath her and shock numbed her senses.
“Jane, not here,” said Jasper in her ear.
The man looked between them, perplexed. “ Jane ?”
Jasper lowered her hand but did not let go of it. The constant pressure of his palm gave her strength as the world seemed to swirl around her.
“Let’s find somewhere to speak more privately, shall we?” asked Jasper.
The man nodded, slightly bewildered, and followed them to a curtained alcove. It was the best they could hope for, given the circumstances. Hetty shrank away from the sharp eyes that followed them. If she had managed to avoid being a complete scandal before, she would not be so lucky now.
The alcove was shockingly silent; the noise of the ball was muffled there, but the pounding of Hetty’s heart filled the quiet.
The man turned to face her. “I don’t understand—”
“Who are you?” she asked, not able to stop herself from interrupting him.
He pressed his lips together. “Who am I? Hetty, this is ridiculous—”
“I fell from my horse,” she blurted out. “I fell and injured my head and lost my memories. I awoke not knowing who I was or where I came from. Jasper—the Earl of Belhaven and his family have been caring for me as I recovered.”
The man did not speak for several seconds, studying the contours of Hetty’s face, looking for a jest or a lie. Eventually, he seemed to accept what she had explained to him. “You’re quite serious, aren’t you? You truly do not recognize me?”
She shook her head. “I am terribly sorry, but I didn’t even know my own name until you said it.”
He brought his hands to the ties of his mask, removing it. “I am your cousin, the baron, Lord Claremont.” He offered her a small bow. “You are Henrietta Davenport. We’ve been at Sutton House since your father died some three months ago.” He grimaced, seeming to remember that this was new information to Hetty.
For her part, the news of her father’s death abraded Hetty anew, even though she had suspected it. “How did he die?” she managed to choke out.
Claremont loosened his collar. “Apoplexy. I’m told it was quick.”
As if that mattered. “And my mother?” she ventured, knowing the answer before he said it, but needing to ask it all the same.
He gave her a queer, if pitying look. “Your mother died nearly fifteen years ago, I’m afraid,” he replied, his voice softer than before. “Scarlet fever when you were just a child.”
She felt Jasper stiffen behind her, but he still offered her his silent support, keeping her upright when all she wanted was to collapse. “So I am alone,” she concluded.
Claremont shook his head. “Not alone, Hetty. You have my mother and me, and we have been so distressed at your disappearance. You cannot begin to imagine the extent of our worry.”
Something prickled in her mind, a question that needed answering. “Why was I out on horseback alone?”
He straightened, looking out toward the ballroom before replying. “That I cannot answer. I suspect only you can.”
Hetty deflated, having hoped to learn the truth from her cousin. So far she was only left with more questions. Another one rose to the surface. “If you’re a baron, what does that make me?”
“Well, nothing. Your mother married a commoner. My father, your mother’s brother, inherited the title when our grandfather passed, but he only lasted a few years before passing himself. So my mother and I are all you have, in terms of family.”
He said it almost apologetically, but beneath the shock of it, Hetty could hardly believe she had any family left at all. After thinking of herself as unmoored from her past, the idea of an aunt and a cousin was almost too good to be true.
“You really don’t remember a thing, do you?” he asked again, studying her face with earnest curiosity.
“No,” she replied with a sad smile. “I thought seeing someone from my past would break the dam in my mind that has kept my memories from me, but I am frustratingly unable to recall much else.”
Claremont frowned. “I wish I could help you, Hetty.”
“Oh, but you have!” she exclaimed, not wishing for him to feel any guilt about her current predicament. “I rather thought myself alone in the world, without a past or a future. You have given me both, even if I will have to work at it. I cannot thank you enough.”
Claremont’s cheeks reddened. “Hetty, you must return with me tonight. Mother will never believe me unless you do, and she has been suffering so much in your absence.”
Hetty didn’t need her memories in order to imagine that her aunt was in pain. Her only solace was that she could alleviate it. But it meant leaving Mulgrave Hall, and the Maycotts, behind.
Worst of all, it meant leaving Jasper. But hadn’t she been planning to leave him forever only moments before? At least now she could fathom coming back to him.
The Earl of Belhaven tugged on her wrist. “Jane—Hetty,” he corrected, speaking her real name for the first time. He said it almost hesitantly, as if he didn’t quite believe it to be true. “Hetty, do you trust this man?”
Claremont scoffed. “Why wouldn’t she trust me? I’m her family.”
“All due respect, Claremont, but it was my family that took care of Hetty after her accident. Would you begrudge me for ensuring her continued safety?”
Claremont straightened, evidently affronted. “Why, of course not. And my family will undoubtedly wish to repay your kindness in due course—”
“No repayment will be necessary.” The response was firm. In a matter of moments, Jasper had donned the mask of the stern bastard once more.
“How magnanimous of you,” Claremont replied, his tone verging on sarcastic. “Hetty, I do not wish to upset you, but if I return to Sutton House with only my good word as assurance to my mother that you are safe, she will never forgive me. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she never recovered from the shock of it.”
Jasper huffed, but he did not make a similar plea. Hetty knew his concerns. She could read him like a book. Jasper wanted her to be cautious, but Hetty was willing to rush headlong into a storm if it meant getting some answers. There was very little she wouldn’t do in order to learn the truth. How could he expect her to turn her back on her past, now that it was in her grasp?
The answers she sought would not be found in Mulgrave Hall, but rather in Sutton House, the home she did not remember. Claremont would take her there. Walking the corridors she grew up in, sleeping in the bed that had always been hers, reading her father’s letters… Surely, she would remember everything then.
And when she did, she could come back to Jasper, free of the suspicion that her unknown past could ever harm his family. It was better than she had hoped for. Hetty hadn’t dared imagine a future in which she had Jasper and her memories both. It had seemed incompatible. She had always thought having one meant giving up the other, or living a life with neither.
But now her past had met her present, and it seemed she wouldn’t have to choose.
Excitement built within her. “I’ll return with you, Cousin.”
Claremont grinned, but Jasper stepped between them.
“Could you give us a moment?” he asked, his tone allowing no room for argument.
Hetty nodded at her cousin, who seemed very reluctant to leave. It was sweet, she thought, how easily he had slipped back into his role as her protector. With her father gone, Claremont had likely stepped up in that regard.
“I will be just outside the curtain,” he said with a shallow bow.
It didn’t take long for Jasper to turn to her, his expression incredulous. “How can you trust this—this stranger ?”
“He is my cousin, Jasper. He is practically all the family I have left in the world.”
“But you do not know him, not like you know your name.” So he had sensed the shift in her the first time Claremont spoke her name aloud.
“No, but how could he know me so well and be a stranger? I am safe with him; I am certain of this.”
“How?” he asked, his tone verging on desperate. “How can you be certain? Do not forget that you were running from someone when I found you.”
She risked reaching for his hand, needing to feel connected to him. “He knows me, Jasper. That is plain to see. How can I distrust someone who knows me better than I know myself? And besides, he could be asking me the same question about you.”
He stepped back as though she had struck him. “I would never harm you—”
She squeezed his hand. “I know that better than I know anything. But from his perspective, you don’t know me at all.” She tried not to say it cruelly, but at the same time she knew it was the truth. The story of Jasper and Jane had spanned less than a week thus far. She wished for the story of Jasper and Hetty to last much longer, but she couldn’t do that unless she knew herself. Claremont was the key.
Jasper frowned. “I feel as though I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone else.”
She felt that, too; the connection between them was stronger than words. She needed him to understand it wouldn’t fade if she went with her cousin. He might not grasp her motives now, but he would when she came back to him, her position one of strength. Wouldn’t professing her love for him mean more to Jasper then? Instead of being uttered from a place of desperation in an unfamiliar ballroom?
“Jasper, I must do this. I cannot ask my family to suffer even a moment longer.” She paused, searching him for the arguments she knew would follow. “Nor can I spend even one more night not knowing who I am and continue to put your family at risk by associating with me.” He opened his mouth but she held a finger to his lips. “I need you to trust me.”
He sighed against her finger, capturing her hand and bringing her palm to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the center of it, one she felt over every inch of her body.
“It’s not you I don’t trust, Hetty.” This time, he said her name like he was certain of it. “Henrietta,” he said, pulling her into an embrace. Hetty allowed herself to sink into him, to feel the hard lines of him against her, to feel safe in his arms one more time. “If this is what you need, who am I to argue?”
“I’ll be back before you know it,” she whispered against his chest.
He pulled back and brought his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face like she was something precious. “You will always have a place at Mulgrave Hall. And that is not a conditional offer. Day or night, in the middle of a storm or not, if you need me, I will come for you and I will bring you home.”
Home . Mulgrave Hall had begun to feel like it. Would Sutton House be as welcoming? Or would the absence of her father haunt the halls as well as any ghost? The only way to find out was by going to it and comparing it to the warmth she was leaving behind.
“You’ll tell your sisters? Viola especially will think of it as a betrayal—”
“She will understand. No one will fault you for seeking out your family.”
She looked up at him, almost overcome by the need to kiss him until her lips had memorized the contours of his face, and her hands his body. She wanted him to make an imprint on her very soul, so the memory of him became as ineradicable as knowing how to breathe, to blink, to smile. That was the thing about not remembering her past—Hetty feared it would happen again, and she couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting Jasper Maycott.
“Jasper—” she began, her voice cracking.
But he seemed to understand her without words. “Go, Hetty,” he said, lightly pushing her away. “Go so you may come back to me, in whatever way you can.”
It took an immense amount of effort to tear herself from his side. A part of her screamed to stay, to find another way. But she pushed past the fear and doubt. Neither would serve her well. She was doing this so she could come back to him. That knowledge was the only reason she was able to leave.
When she stepped back into the ballroom, the roar of noise almost overcame her.
“Ready?” asked Claremont, jumping to his feet from where he had been leaning.
“Yes,” Hetty replied, turning back to see Jasper over her shoulder as they began to walk away. Jasper held her gaze, his eyes burning like embers with something she knew but could not name. She felt it, too. He left the alcove, walking slowly, not following, but not wishing to lose her before he had to.
The rest of the ballroom could have been on fire, but Hetty did not look away. Claremont was speaking, but she did not hear him. Jasper paused in the middle of the room; Lucian stood beside him, his own gaze directed at Jane. Lucian’s expression crinkled with concern, Jasper’s still resolute.
They reached the top of the stairs too quickly. Hetty wasn’t ready to leave the man she loved behind. He had been her tether, the thing that held her close when all that remained of her could have floated away.
“Come, Hetty.” Claremont’s voice was impatient as he guided her through the door, which closed behind them.
The tether snapped, and she felt all at once lonelier for having left him. But Hetty had to focus on her mission. It was her only way back to Jasper.
More than that, it was her only way back to herself.