Chapter Four #2
“I feel quite sure that won’t be necessary.
The ton will shout it for you.” Joy led the way through a large parlor and out the doors thrown open to the gorgeous day, showing them to the opulent garden overflowing with every shade of rosebush imaginable.
“Mama loved her roses and tended them as carefully as she tended all of us. This time of year was always her favorite.”
Aurelia tipped her nose higher and sniffed. “I love their fragrance. So very sweet. What a lovely way to have your mother still with you.”
Joy’s sad smile made Jansen ache to find a way to wash away her sorrow. But losing a beloved parent was a pain that only the Almighty Himself could heal. “Our mother loved daisies. I remember her weaving them into flowery chains for her and Aurelia to wear like crowns.”
Aurelia gasped. “I remember that now, too. Just barely, though. I was so young when Mama passed.”
“And your father never remarried,” Joy said. “I remember your telling me of their great love. That too was the way of it with my parents. A true love match. A rare thing.”
“Rare and precious,” Jansen said. “Something worth seeking out and trying to capture by any means necessary.”
She stared at him, her cornflower-blue eyes flaring wider and her supple lips, those lips that had tasted so very sweet, barely parted.
Then she seemed to shake herself free of the moment, squared her shoulders, and offered a polite smile.
“Rare and precious, indeed.” A clatter from the doorway caused her to turn.
“Our tea has arrived. Come, let us sit over here beside the arbor and watch the pond. Merry released her goldfish in there, and wonder of wonders, they are thriving. She couldn’t bear their being imprisoned in those small bowls, so I am so relieved that they haven’t died.
She would be distraught. If you watch closely, they’ll come to the surface to see if we have any treats for them. You will be amazed at their size.”
Jansen spotted one of the shockingly large, shimmering fish and laughed. “Nimbus would be enthralled.”
“Nimbus?”
“My cat.” He’d heard she liked cats and prayed that rumor was true. “While over in Greece, I found him hiding in an old, abandoned cannon. A starving kitten small enough to fit in my pocket. Of course, I couldn’t leave him there to die.”
“Of course not,” Joy said with such sincerity that his heart soared. “I look forward to meeting Nimbus.”
“Guard your things when you do,” Aurelia warned. “He is an unrepentant thief.”
“I imagine that’s from when he was a tiny kitten and had to steal to eat.” Joy went to the tea cart and shooed the housekeeper away. “I shall pour, Mrs. Flackney, since you appear to be the only servant at our service today. Where is everyone?”
The matron glanced back at the doorway, then lowered her voice. “George and Peter are trying to convince Walters to have a nap. His confusion is much less after he has slept a few extra hours. And, of course, the maids are busy cleaning. I don’t mind doing my part to help our Walters.”
“Perhaps we should try to hire a helper again. A butler in training?”
Mrs. Flackney gave a sad shake of her head. “Whatever you wish, my lady, but I fear nothing we try will go easily with our Walters. You know he considers it his oath to your parents to maintain this household as he did when they were alive.”
“I shall speak to Chance.” Joy reached out and squeezed the housekeeper’s hand. “I promise.”
The matron toddled away, her shoulders slumped with weariness.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jansen asked, touched by Joy’s caring for her servants. A noble rarely, if ever, touched a commoner. Most behaved as if those of the lower status bore the pox.
She handed him his tea with an unhappy sigh.
“Nothing I know of. Poor Walters allows his position to define him. If he no longer takes care of the household, then in his mind, he ceases to exist. I wish we could make him understand he has earned his retirement, but he refuses. Hopefully, this time, Chance and I—and the rest of the girls—can convince him to take on a butler in training without him being offended. He is a dear old curmudgeon. We are all very fond of him.”
Aurelia set her teacup and saucer on the table. “I feel the need to wander among the flowers. You two behave.” She shook a finger at them. “No patty fingers. No kisses. Only longing glances. Understood?”
Joy laughed and placed her hand over her heart. “Understood.”
Jansen glared at his sister, willing her to feel his exact opinion about those particular instructions.
“Aurelia is a dear,” Joy said as she watched his sister follow the path and disappear into the roses.
“She is indeed.” Deciding to take the bull by the horns after Aurelia’s accusation of blackmail—which was founded, but that was neither here nor there—and Broadmere’s obvious displeasure with him, Jansen leaned back in the fancy wicker garden chair that groaned and crackled beneath his weight.
“How much do you hate me, Joy? For ensnaring you?”
She looked up from stirring her tea as though startled. “Hate you?”
“Yes. For blackmailing you into our courting.”
With a look one would expect from a displeased mother scolding her child, she set her tea on the table. “I do not hate you, Jansen, and cannot understand why you would assume such a thing.”
“My sister accused me of blackmailing you, and your brother—”
“Do not get me started on my infuriating brother.” She rolled her eyes while shaking her head.
“Why he has suddenly taken on this high-and-mighty attitude, when I know good and well he would marry me off to a toad if it got him his next percentage of the inheritance, is beyond me. Ignore him. I intend to.”
“My only concern, my greatest fear, is that you will come to hate me because you love someone else, and with our courting, are not free to pursue that love.” He held his breath, praying he had read her right all these years, and that she had no attachments to anyone.
“There is no one else.” She picked up her tea once more and hazarded a small sip.
“I do not wish to marry—yet—for reasons of my own. But those reasons have nothing to do with another.” She tipped a thoughtful shrug.
“Although, I guess you could say, my reasons are because of things close to my heart. But they are things, not people.”
Intrigued, he had to ask, “What things, my lady? What things might I provide for you that satisfy your heart?” All she had to do was name them, and he would move heaven and earth to lay them at her feet.
With a shy smile and a shake of her head, she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “You are very kind, sir, but these things my heart protects, these things I will lose once I marry, cannot be bought.”
“Tell me, my lady. Let me help you think of a way to keep from losing them. I swear I am not an unreasonable man who would strip away your identity once you became my wife. I understand you wish to keep your freedoms, as you said last night, but of what freedoms do you speak? What do you fear losing?” He reached across the table for her hand, but she pulled it away with a teasing grin.
“No, no. No patty fingers. Remember our promise to Aurelia?”
He found her levity annoying. “I am quite serious, my lady. Allow me to help you so we might marry one day before we both grow as old as your Walters.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This is our first day of courting, Sir Jansen. I hardly think you’ve suffered an overly long engagement just yet.”
“Engagement.” His heart swelled. “A much better term than courting.”
“That was a slip of the tongue, I assure you!”
“Oh no, my lady. You called this an engagement.” Blackmail or not, slip of the tongue or not, he wasn’t about to allow her to reverse course now.
“You are as infuriating as my brother.” She rose from her seat and shook a finger at him. “We are not engaged. We are courting.”
“We already call each other by our first names. Yet another sign we are engaged.”
“We are not engaged,” she growled. “Stop saying that.”
He so delighted in teasing her, but didn’t wish to overplay his hand. “As long as we are officially courting, I am happy, my lady.”
“Well, heaven knows I would never wish otherwise for you.” She flounced over to the pond and crumbled a biscuit across the water’s surface. Fish immediately bobbed into view and gobbled up the treats.
“Joy.” He stood but didn’t approach her. He had made her angry, and that was far from his intent.
She didn’t answer, simply crumbled another biscuit for the greedy goldfish that were already larger than his hand.
“Joy?”
“What?”
“Do not be angry with me. I was somewhat teasing in the hopes that you would agree. I apologize, but in my defense, it is because I adore you, my angel. All I want is the right to make you happy all the rest of your days.”
“Happiness can sometimes be a complicated thing,” she said without taking her gaze from the churning waters of the pond.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
She turned and eyed him, studying him as if trying to decide what sort of animal he might be. “Happiness is always complicated—or at least, that has been my experience.”
“Then allow me to change that for you. Allow me to make you happy by helping you find a way to retain whatever it is you live in fear of losing.”
“You have no idea what you are asking.”
“I am asking you to trust me.”
She shook her head. “I cannot. At least, not yet.” She brushed the crumbs from her hands and started toward the door. “Forgive me, but I am suddenly too tired for a ride. Perhaps another time. Yes?”
His heart fell. He had indeed overplayed his hand. “I am sorry to hear that, my lady. Of course I understand.” He understood more than she knew. It was written in her eyes. “Please accept my apologies.”
“No apology necessary, Jansen. But I must bid you good day. Please tell Aurelia I am truly sorry.”
“I will, my lady. I shall call again soon.”
“Lovely.” She dropped a quick curtsy, obviously in a hurry to be gone from him.
He offered her a nod, then watched her run from the garden. In future, he needed to take better care. Go lightly and not rush her. His lady was delicate prey, flighty as a deer that would bolt at the slightest provocation.
“Come along, Aurelia,” he called out, already planning the next visit. He would do better next time. Next time, Joy wouldn’t run away. She would run to him.
*
As soon as she reached her room, Joy closed the door tightly shut and leaned back against it, blinking against the frustrating sting of tears begging to be shed.
What the devil was wrong with her? She had very nearly confessed everything to Jansen.
What power did that man possess to loosen her tongue at both ends and almost make her toss caution to the wind?
But she had caught herself just in time. Barely.
At the next meeting of the book club, she would have a word with Aurelia.
Something about Jansen’s manner made her believe he knew more than he was letting on.
Had Aurelia betrayed her trust? All the ladies admitted into the Reader’s Dare Club meetings were sworn in, promising never to tell about the ladies’ gaming club.
The Reader’s Dare Club was their place, as fine and entertaining as any forbidden men’s club like White’s or Brooks’s or Boodle’s.
And he had been so handsome today—so unbearably handsome that she could think of nothing but their kiss.
Good heavens, she needed some cool water.
She rushed to the washstand and filled the basin.
Thankfully, the water was still quite chilly, since the maid had just freshened it.
After wetting a cloth, she pressed it to her temples, dabbed it across her forehead and eyes, then held it to the back of her neck.
Much better, she decided with a deep breath.
A dull ache low in her belly provided the answer to part of her problem.
Her courses had decided to come. “Well, isn’t that just lovely?
” That would explain the silliness of wanting to cry.
Thank goodness she had begged off the carriage ride.
That would have been most awkward and very embarrassing, since she currently wore white muslin with tiny blue flowers.
She would have permanently stained her dress.
“Flora!” Her maid had to be somewhere close.
“Yes, my lady?” Flora emerged from the shared dressing room, then slapped a hand to her forehead.
“Forgive me, my lady. ’Tis time for your courses, and I completely forgot the date.
Your pads and belt are laundered and ready in the stand beside the commode.
Shall I fetch some tea or laudanum? How bad are your pains this time?
I know ’tis early yet, but you always suffer so. ”
“Do not remind me.” Joy didn’t have time for this inconvenience.
Tomorrow was the meeting, and invariably, her second full day of courses was always worse than the first. The devil himself wouldn’t be able to get along with her by tomorrow.
“Tea. Lots of it, please. We shall save the laudanum for tonight.”
She took refuge behind the privacy screen, found her supplies, and belted a pad in place.
Dear heavens, it was like walking with a chafing pillow bunched between her legs, but if she didn’t tie the pad tightly enough, it would slip and not provide protection.
Sometimes she hated the maturity of womanhood.
“Shall I draw you a bath, my lady?” Flora called out from the other side of the screen. “Or warm some linens to hold against your belly?”
“Yes to everything, dear Flora. Thank you.” Maybe if Joy attacked her womanly time head-on with teas, hot water, and warmed linens, she could convince her body to calm down and behave enough for tomorrow’s meeting.
She simply had to be there. With the membership as large as it had become, she couldn’t possibly shirk her duties for something as annoying as her courses.
Some women took to their beds, but not her.
Although, to be truthful, it would probably be kinder to those around her if she did.
“Come along now, my lady. Let’s get you abed. Your bath will be ready shortly.”
“I hate this, Flora. Hate it with a passion.”
The maid gave her a sympathetic nod. “I know, my lady. All women do.”