Chapter 33
Jane and her entourage arrived home just before tea and though there was a battalion of servants to greet them somehow the house felt empty.
Feeling Yates’ absence keenly, Jane carried Ellie up the stairs, Master Davey on her heals holding the hand of his nurse.
She spoke to him of all the exciting things they would do in order to keep her mind and his from dwelling on those who were absent.
Once the children were settled, she went in search of employment.
Mrs. Toole had a few small items to bring to her attention, and they went through them within ten minutes.
Jane sighed and stood to bid her farewell, wandering toward the window, drawing aside the sheer curtain with one hand.
The sunlight was streaming through the gardens, seeming to highlight the roses which were blooming with abandon.
The gardeners had done an excellent job bringing the plants back to full health.
Jane pondered how long it had been since she walked in the garden and could not recall.
Perhaps it was time that she took a moment or two to rediscover the things which she had so enjoyed previously.
She rang for a bonnet and parasol set off into the oyster walk toward the formal gardens.
Once she saw what was in bloom, she would come out in the morning when it was cool with a pair of snips and a basket and make a bouquet or two for the drawing room.
The gardens were set in a formal parterre style with a bubbling fountain of grand proportions in the center.
There were a good mix of flowers in each enclosed section so that there were those to delight the senses of smell as well as sight.
Surrounded by the riot of color, busy with bees and other insects, Jane finally found the peace she had been searching for within the house.
She had been slowly perusing the beds for a time when a voice, calling her name, interrupted her reverie.
She turned toward the front of the house to see a gentleman she only vaguely recalled approaching.
He was tall and well built, with a decided air of fashionable ennui which she found immediately off-putting.
“Such beauty as I see before me is rarely encountered in the wilds of Staffordshire,” he drawled, reaching for her hand and bowing extravagantly over it. When it seemed as if he would kiss it she quickly drew her hand away.
It was not her intention to depress his flirtations so completely, but her words had that effect. “I am sorry, sir. I know we have met but I cannot seem to recall your name.”
His face fell and he stuttered, “I—I am Harold, Harold Killian.” His smarmy smile returned. “It was likely a difficult time for you my dear.”
Jane hummed noncommittally.
He offered her his arm. “Shall we continue to view your lovely gardens?”
The man did not even ask to join her! Jane grimaced to herself as she fought her tendency to please and lost, placing her fingers very lightly on his arm. “Perhaps for a short time. I have an appointment before dinner.”
“It seems a shame that such a lovely woman would dine alone,” he hinted baldly.
“Such is the lot of widows,” Jane replied with a frown. “And if I wish for companionship, I can always dine with my daughter. She is excellent company.”
“Oh. Erm, certainly.”
They meandered forward, the pace making Jane long to run fast and far to escape him, likely the opposite of his intention.
“Do you want—” “I had best return.” They spoke at the same time.
Jane continued before he could finish his thought, “Have a good afternoon, then. Goodbye.” She turned and walked as quickly as she could without looking like she was running away back to the house.
The butler greeted her at the door, having been watching over her out of the window. He took her bonnet and parasol as she frowned mightily.
“If I may, Ma’am. Mr. Killian has come daily in the hopes of seeing you as no one would inform him where you had gone or when you planned to return.”
“Well, that is a relief,” Jane laughed. “I had begun to wonder if he had a spy in the household or if he had taken up residence in the bushes to watch for me himself.”
“Oh no, Ma’am. We would have routed him from the bushes long since.”
Jane laughed again, her equanimity restored and went to look over her post as there was still half an hour before it would be time to dress for dinner.
Obviously, it was not just any conversation she wished for, but a certain, specific friend who left her pining for his company.
Somehow acknowledging the longing gave it both strength and settled her feelings.
She very much missed Jeffery Yates, and the thought brought a flurry of butterflies to her belly and a smile to her face.
The smile widened measurably when she discovered a letter in a very familiar hand midway through the stack.
She slipped her letter opener beneath the seal and unfolded the thick missive with relish.
Statham Court
Staffordshire
Dear Jane—
She gasped in surprise. He had never addressed her so informally and she assumed that it had been a slip of the pen. Perhaps he had much on his mind.
All is as well as could be expected here.
My father, in his usual humor, decided to send for me without explanation.
I had assumed that he was making his annual attempt to convince me to wash my hands of trade, thus far unsuccessfully, but I discovered that my eldest brother, Viscount Tygee, had passed away in a racing accident and that Lieutenant Yates had also perished on the continent.
I feel the heavy weight of loss upon my heart, made worse by the relief that Tygee will no longer be the earl.
He was much in the style of the baron and his friends and there was not a sport or a wager he would, or could, resist. He would have driven the estate to ruin within a twelve-month, but he was also the devil-may-care boy I grew up beside.
Always ready for a lark and willing to take the fall when we were caught in our naughtiness.
It was an idyllic life, in many ways; the four of us brothers nearly feral in summer until Tygee went to Eton.
Sometimes I think that a multitude of England’s ills are festered in that place, fed by the dissatisfaction and hubris of the professors and tutors.
Should I ever have a son, I do not believe that I shall send him off to such a cesspool.
He shall have plenty of time at Cambridge to form the necessary connections.
I ramble, I must confess. My thoughts are all a jumble currently.
I wish you were here to listen to my scattered musings and stories of our misspent youth.
I am certain that you would somehow make sense of all this…
chaos I am feeling. They were not the best of men, and in all honesty, were it not for our shared bond of blood I would likely never have associated with any of them. Do you not find
that we give too much grace to our family, even when they are undeserving?
The drive to protect—I do not know what I am saying, of course you do.
You have told me often of your torn loyalties to the more trying members of your family.
You, more than anyone, will understand my feelings at this moment.
Jane read on with her hand to her heart which was burning with longing; to see and speak with him but also to offer what comfort she could.
He told story after story, relaying memories as they came to him with no seeming connection or conclusion.
Poor man, she sighed as she closed the letter at last. He was hurting and there was nothing that she could do to help him.
She would listen, as he asked, once he arrived and hopefully help to lift some of the weight he struggled under.
Dinner was a strain as she sat in silent splendor by herself.
She ate but little of the soup course before she could not stand it any longer and asked for a tray to be sent to her sitting room with a selection of the remaining courses.
There was no reason to force the poor footman to attend her and miss his own meal while she picked at her food without tasting it.
∞∞∞
It was two long days before she could expect Mr. Yates to return and she set her mind to work, determined to keep busy, refusing to dwell on her newly budding feelings. Things would progress as they were meant to, no matter the perturbation she allowed to disturb her equanimity.
Two mornings later, as she sat in the office, discussing the estate with the temporary steward, when they were interrupted by the butler with several cards on a tray.
“A Mr. Upton, a Mr. Redding, and a Mr. Westmore are here asking to see you, Ma’am. When I told them that you were not receiving this morning they insisted that they must speak with you with some urgency.”
“Oh dear,” Jane exclaimed, shaking out her skirts. “I do hope that nothing untoward has happened in the area. I shall go now. Are they in the gold parlor?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Jane paused to check the peer glass in the hall to ensure that her hair remained in place before setting her shoulders and sweeping into the room to find three gentlemen glaring daggers at one another.
“You told my butler that there was some urgency to your visit, what may I do for you gentlemen?”
They scrambled over one another to bow before her, one eager man even elbowing his neighbor out of the way and all began speaking at once, their words tumbling over one another in a jumble.
“Sirs!” Jane exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “One at a time if you please!”
There was a scuffle before one man stepped forward and reached for her hand. “I had hoped to invite you for a picnic this afternoon!” he declared grandly. “I have already ordered a basket from cook and we can take a carriage to a sweet little place I know of beside the river…”
“I was going to ask for her company today!” another of the men grumbled.
“Well, you must accompany me into town to visit the shops and take tea!” the third insisted.
“I—” Jane looked about for an escape.
“It is only fair, after all,” the first wheedled. “You cannot claim disinterest, you spent the afternoon entertaining Killian, it would not be sporting if you did not give us all an equal chance.”
The sight of a grown man pouting as he was undid Jane and she began to laugh.
“You have been misinformed. I spent all of five minutes with Mr. Killian out of an excess of good breeding and I can assure you after today I shall not make such a mistake again. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a very busy day.”
“Mrs. Bingley!” someone cried as she swept from the room. She did not turn around to see who it was.
“John,” she addressed her large footman in the hall. “Please see to it that these gentlemen find their hats before they leave.”
“Gladly, Ma’am.” He popped his knuckles, hurrying the men on their way.
Jane went to inform the butler that she was not at home to gentlemen in the future, no matter what they claimed, instructing him to send them to speak with Mr. Yates.