Chapter Twenty-Five
It was nearly a week before Janelle was strong enough to leave the house. Aside from needing to escape her bedroom, her aunt had become more insistent that they discuss wedding plans. The banns had been read once already. Two more weeks until the wedding and there was still a great deal to do.
Unfortunately, the first task was a fitting and there was no way to hide the bruises during that.
She made sure they were in the back room of the dress shop, but she had to disrobe completely.
The girl apprentice saw them first, then the seamstress.
Their eyes darkened with pity and their mouths compressed into tight lines.
Janelle knew this was coming. This wasn’t the first time a servant of some kind had seen the blackish-green welts on her body.
But it had been a while, and the shame hit her anew.
Especially when her aunt finally saw.
“Oh Janelle,” Aunt Esmee moaned. “What did you do?”
What had she done? “I asked Papa about the details of the marriage settlement.” She flinched as she straightened her shoulders, trying to force herself to be brave. This wasn’t her shame. It was her father’s.
“But why would you do that? That’s not your concern.”
The details of her own marriage weren’t important? How was it that something so massive in her life was not her concern?
Her aunt stepped up to her. She held up a hand, nearly touching Janelle’s back, but the mottled skin would not bear more weight and she flinched away. So Aunt Esmee touched her cheek instead. “It’s best that you get out of the house. Your marriage can’t come too soon.”
“I’ve met someone else,” Janelle blurted. She blinked as tears flooded her vision. “I love him.”
“You can’t love him. You’ve just met him.”
“Don’t tell me what I feel!” she snapped.
It was all she’d been doing for the last week.
So many feelings! Pain and rage were the least of it.
She also felt powerless, vulnerable, and completely unequal to manage anything.
She, who had the skills to bring life into the world, felt so inept that she lost herself to laudanum for nearly a week.
She’d only come out now because her aunt had threatened to storm her bedroom and Nanny couldn’t keep the woman away.
So she was here now with her mottled body covered in welts. And her aunt would not hear what she wanted to say.
“I. Love. Him.” It was an act of defiance to say it aloud. It was also completely futile.
“Does he have a title? Money?”
“He is my choice.”
“And you know exactly how much choice you have, which is to say none.” With a sigh, her aunt gestured the modiste and girl away. “Bring us some tea and biscuits,” she ordered. Then she gently helped Janelle pull on a silk chemise. “This is the cause of your migraines?”
Janelle stepped gingerly over to a chair and sat down.
It hurt too much to lean back, but it was a relief to get off her feet.
Her father had not broken any of her bones, and she was grateful.
Not to him, of course, but to Mrs. Sundy who had helped her study the body and learn how to protect what was vital to defend during a beating.
Meanwhile, Aunt Esmee looked at her gently. “Tell me about this man. Does he have anything to recommend him over Lord Benedict?”
She noted that her aunt didn’t ask the most important question. Did Major Vance love her? Her dreams of escape meant nothing if he would not have her. “He does not.” Nothing except that she wanted him.
“Will you tell me his name?”
Janelle shook her head. There was no point in tarnishing his reputation. Not unless there was some hope of a solution.
“Oh Janelle, you know there is no possibility of changing course. Has Lord Benedict done something to give you a distaste of him?”
“Nothing except disappear.” She looked up at her aunt. “Do you think I wanted to fall in love? Lord Benedict is kind and will give me everything I thought I wanted.”
“Except now your heart has suddenly attached to something else, someone else.”
“Yes.”
“Do you not see how ridiculous that is? You are afraid of marriage, and well you should be. It’s a mysterious future with a man who will control every aspect of your life.
So you latch onto the nearest man and fall desperately in love.
You know that is not how it works. Love takes time.
It needs respect and space to grow.” She paused as the modiste brought in the tea.
Aunt Esmee poured it, then urged Janelle to take a sweet biscuit.
“This panic has nothing to do with falling in love. It is about fearing the married state and that is something I completely understand.”
Was that what she was doing? What she felt for Major Vance was so deep, so urgent. It overwhelmed her, and that was completely unlike her. She was never rash. She couldn’t afford to be. And yet she had tumbled headlong into love barely two weeks after her engagement. That wasn’t normal.
She sipped her tea and chewed at the edge of the sweet, her thoughts in turmoil.
“I was terrified of your uncle, you know,” Aunt Esmee said, her voice and attitude casual. “The idea of the wedding night filled me with terror. I had heard such things. So many unpleasant things.”
“I’m not afraid of that.”
Her aunt’s brows rose. “Really? That would be most unusual.”
“Well,” she hedged. “Maybe a little apprehensive.” Her night with Gabriel had showed her that the experience could be pleasurable.
That night, she had wanted all the things that a man does with a woman.
But with Gabriel. It wouldn’t be that way with Lord Benedict. Indeed, Gabriel had said exactly that.
“I was terrified,” Aunt Esmee continued.
“The week before my wedding, I imagined all sorts of ridiculous things. One day I thought I was dying of a fever. The next day, the butcher’s boy smiled at me, and I thought he was my true love.
You can’t imagine the things that were rushing through my head all the time.
” Then her expression softened as she looked at Janelle. “Or maybe you can.”
“I don’t know,” she said. Aunt Esmee had been a very silly girl, or so the family stories went. Marrying Uncle Jonathan had been the making of her. She’d settled down and grown into a very kind and capable lady of the ton. Janelle, on the other hand, had never been thought silly by anyone.
“Of course, you don’t know. You’re just a child. That’s why you need to trust me. Now eat that sweet or I shall be tempted to steal it from you.”
Janelle did as she was commanded. She even finished her tea which went down better than most of the food she’d managed this past week. Then she came to a decision.
“I shall write to Major Vance and see if he is available to walk with me tomorrow afternoon.” She had to know if he felt the same as she did. If he didn’t, then it was done, wasn’t it? She would marry Lord Benedict knowing that she had tested the other path and found it blocked.
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” her aunt said. “I’ve found him to be very level-headed. He will be able to reassure you as to Lord Benedict’s true nature.”
“The major has already been clear on that point. He has enormous respect for the man, and Lord Benedict clearly returns that esteem.”
“Then it sounds as if you should spend more time with the major.” Her aunt stood up. “But first, let’s finish fitting your gown. You are going to be the most beautiful bride.”
Janelle smiled and pushed up from her seat.
But her aunt distracted her, and she forgot to moderate her movement.
She twisted as she stood, and a shooting pain gripped her side.
She gasped in reaction, the pain all that much worse.
Had she broken a rib? Or was this the normal reaction to moving too fast?
She pressed a hand to her side, trying to stem the tide of pain.
“Janelle!” Her aunt gripped her arm, holding her upright. “Should I call a doctor?”
What a question. There had been no doctor after she’d been beaten until her father couldn’t raise his arms anymore. The secrecy was too important to him. If she’d died that night, it would’ve been named a mysterious ailment.
“Who would you call?” she said, her breath shallow.
Her aunt winced. “Well, there are discreet ones, I’m sure. But you probably don’t want a man poking at you right now. Maybe what you really need is some laudanum.”
Janelle waved that away. “I have had too much of that lately.” She straightened slowly, holding her hand lightly to her side. It was easy because she was in her shift. “The swelling is down, the heat is lessened, and the pain is reduced. I am on the mend.”
Her aunt smiled at her. “You have a gift for healing, Janelle. What a blessing.”
Any other time she would have smiled and let it go, but she was in pain, and she was very tired of being dismissed like that. “It’s not a gift, it’s learning. I got books and studied them. Back in the country, I’ve set bones, treated fevers, and—”
“Stop! Stop!” Her aunt took a deep breath. “All of this is to your credit, of course, but you are a diplomat’s fiancée now. You cannot talk about that anymore.”
“Why not?” She forced herself to her full height. “Wealthy women don’t need to be stupid.”
“No, they need to be elegant and smart. An example of all that is refined. They can’t be squatting in a pig farm tending some peasant with scurvy.”
Scurvy was a sailor’s affliction, not a farmer’s, but she knew better than argue that point. “There needs to be a place where women can help each other,” she said firmly. “A place for us to support one another, away from men. A way to get more than platitudes and laudanum.”
“Well, maybe you can do that,” her aunt said as she waved the modiste back into the room. “After you get married and have all Lord Benedict’s money at your disposal.”
Janelle nodded, already thinking through some of the particulars.
It would take a great deal of money to do what she envisioned.
A very great deal. She’d never have access to that if she married Major Vance.
Even Lord Benedict’s coffers might not be up to the task.
But the idea had taken root, and she focused on it as much as possible while being poked with pins.
It was a more productive use of her energy than pining for another night with Gabriel.
Indeed, it was in the forefront of her mind when she wrote to the major suggesting she was available tomorrow for a promenade in Hyde Park.
She wanted to discuss the specifics of what Lord Benedict might allow her to spend and on what.
It helped that her aunt suggested she rest this evening.
No need to dance all night, Aunt Esmee said, when Janelle was already engaged.
Unable to stop from herself from exploring the idea, the question became part of her missive to Madame Florina. She told the woman that Betty was once again available to work and inquired after a shop location near the Rose Garden that had recently closed its doors.
And when her ideas became too grandiose, she was effectively distracted by a response from Madame Florina. The new apothecary would be pleased to meet her at My Lady’s Apothecary. Could she come immediately?
Janelle read the missive with a sigh of relief. Work was the antidote to feeling lovelorn. A fruitful conversation with a good chemist was exactly what she needed to set her thoughts in order. It would be like having Mrs. Sundy back in her life.