Chapter 10
I didn’t see Jasper that evening or the day after that, so I was able to regain some sense of myself. The dream had shaken me badly but it was just a dream after all. If I ever, by some miracle, found myself in his bed I couldn’t imagine not wanting him, so I thrust it from my thoughts.
On the third afternoon, I was sitting with Sebastian in the library room while he explained the meaning of one of Shakespeare’s sonnets to me. I wasn’t sure what Mother would think of me learning Shakespeare, but I considered that Mother didn’t need to know.
The day of my nineteenth birthday had come and gone some weeks ago, and she had sent me a present of a hooded cloak. It was neither fashionable nor new, but it was warm, and for that, I was grateful. I had not seen either her or my sister since I had left, and Mother had not invited me home to visit. Father’s death lay heavy and painful between us, and I didn’t know how to resolve it.
Sebastian’s petulant sigh broke through my musings. ‘It’s no use. I’ve been prattling on for the last fifteen minutes, and you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said. It’s all very well to expound on the merits of the iambic pentameter, but I’m starting to bore myself!’
‘Sorry, sir,’ I said, feeling bad for not attending. ‘I’m not quite myself today. Could we come back to it another time?’
‘Yes, we’ll have to. Besides, I’ve got a Bible studies class in here shortly. It’s too cold outside ...’ We both turned to look at the icy garden with its bare-boughed trees. ‘Just a couple of the local lads, uh-hum. I thought we’d take a look at Revelations and then have toast and tea—’ He stopped abruptly as if realising he was rambling.
I got up to leave, and Sebastian tidied his papers. ‘Oh, I almost forgot! Jasper asked me to give this to you this morning before he went out.’ My heart stopped and then started thudding painfully in my chest.
‘W-what is it?’ I asked, trying to breathe normally. Sebastian handed me a letter with my name scrawled on the front in swirly black ink.
‘I don’t know. I tried to look inside, but I wasn’t too successful. It’s sealed firmly with his family crest.’
I turned the letter over and blinked. Sure enough, there was a red wax seal.
‘It’s some foolishness, I’m sure. Don’t take it too seriously—Jasper likes a joke except when it’s on him, of course.’
I nodded, took the envelope, and went upstairs as quickly as I could. Here it was, my summons. I was sure I wasn’t going to like it, whatever it was. I sat on the bed and looked at the letter. It sat there innocently in my palm—small, white, and square. The red wax seal had the impression of a lion and a sword. I gulped, impressed despite myself. Jasper’s heritage was undeniable; he came from old money, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.
Gingerly, I broke the seal and opened the flaps. Inside, there was the same swirly black writing. I managed to read it by sounding out the words. It said that Mr Jasper Donne, Esq. was desirous of my company two nights hence for supper in the dining room at eight o’clock sharp. No RSVP required. That was it. I sat there deliberating. An invite to dine with him? Just me? What about Sebastian and Maggie—whatever would they think?
Then as I suppose he knew it would, my disbelief turned into pleasure. Whatever it meant and as suspicious as I was, an invitation to spend the whole evening with Jasper was not to be turned down lightly. In fact, I hadn’t even considered turning it down. In hindsight, perhaps it would have been a better idea.
Two days in some minds might not be a long time. In my mind, it was an eternity. I continuously rode one wave of sheer terror and then another of sheer ecstasy and experienced a sea of every emotion in between.
In my saner moments, I had practical concerns. What should I wear to this supper? I couldn’t show up in my maid’s dress—it was just too drab for words. Fortunately, my wages were plentiful enough that, after sending half to my mother each week, I had been saving the rest in a leather money purse. This meant I could afford to buy something to wear in town.
On the morning of the supper rendezvous, I asked Maggie if I could visit the butcher’s for her since she always had a roast of some sort planned for Saturday. To my surprise, Maggie said that she was spending the evening at her sister’s, so she wouldn’t be cooking, but I could pick up some flowers at the market if I liked. Apparently, Mr Donne had specifically requested fresh flowers for this evening.
My heart leapt. These two things in themselves—Maggie out for the evening and flowers requested by Jasper—meant that it certainly seemed as if the evening were to take place. I had had my doubts, but it looked as if he was managing to engineer it.
Cautiously, I enquired about Sebastian. ‘And Father Fannon, will he be requiring supper this eve?’
‘Ah, no,’ said Maggie, deftly gutting a fresh fish as she spoke. ‘Father is visiting the next village for a Bible session with some of the local lads and then staying overnight with a friend. He’ll be back tomorrow morn. So it’ll just be you and Mr Donne tonight.’
There was a silence. She looked at me, and I felt my face go redder than it normally was.
‘Don’t mind ’im. He’s easy enough to please. Give ’im some bread and some of this fish.’ She picked up a large knife and brought it down on the fish in one loud banging stroke, effectively cutting off its head. ‘That should do ’im quite well.’ Queasily, I backed out of the kitchen.
It was bitterly cold when I stepped outside with my basket. Shivering, I drew up the hood of my cloak and set off towards town. As I walked with my coins jingling in my pocket, I thought about the impossibility of the house’s main occupants, Maggie and Sebastian, both being out on this very night. It had to be Jasper; he had to have organised it somehow, and this knowledge eased some of my doubts.
At the town market, some late flowering sweet peas were on sale, so I bought a bunch of white ones for my basket. I considered red roses but didn’t want to be too presumptuous. The dress was harder to source. But I went to the rag fair, which was held every Saturday morning in the narrow street next to the parish church. On a table of old clothing, I found an evening skirt made of dark-blue wool with the hem coming down. But I could fix that up without any trouble. I was still no beauty, but it should fit me well and look seemly with my white blouse and green bodice.
Back at the house, the rest of the day passed in a dream. I had seen neither hide nor hair of Jasper all day, so I had no idea what he was doing about supper. I hoped we wouldn’t be eating fish on toast. Perhaps he was transporting it here on silver platters in horse-drawn carriages. That was too unbelievable, even for my vivid imagination.
As it turned half past six o’clock, then seven o’clock and Maggie and Sebastian had both left somewhere in between, my stomach started churning with nerves. I paced the room, wringing my hands in despair. The thought of sitting across a table from Jasper, making polite conversation, was incredible. Was it really going to happen? I felt like I might faint from expectation.
At a quarter to eight, I put on my new-old blue skirt with its carefully repaired hem, a clean white blouse, and laced up my green bodice. I sat on the bed feeling a bit foolish.
Who did I think I was? I was a lowly housemaid—not good enough to have supper with someone of Jasper’s breeding and status. I almost started crying from the confusion and stress of it all. But then I remembered my father and how he used to look at me with such pride in his eyes and tell me what a good girl I was and how much he loved me. I squared my shoulders and tied my hair back with his ribbon. I might only be a blacksmith’s daughter, but I had survived the pox, and I had the scars to prove it.
It was eight o’clock. I crept out of my room and down the stairs. The house was dark and very quiet. I made my way to the dining room. A soft light flickered from underneath the door. I imagined many lit candles would make such a light. The fragrance of orange and honey from the sweet peas drifted to my nose. In my mind’s eye, I saw the white flowers as the centrepiece of the table, which was laid with the good linen cloth and set for two with polished silverware.
Hardly daring to breathe, I opened the door and went in. Incredibly, it was as I’d imagined. Candles had been lit and placed around the room, giving off a soft yellow glow; and in the centre of the room, a table was set for two with the good linen and silver cutlery. The flowers I was mistaken about. The sweet peas were on the sideboard. In the centre of the table was a glass vase holding a single red rose.
There was no sign of Jasper. I went to the table and sat down. I listened. Nothing but the hiss and spit of the candles and the trees rustling outside in the wind. After a good ten minutes went past, I became restless. Where was he? Then I heard carriage wheels coming up the drive.
I smoothed my skirt with trembling hands, waiting. But strangely I heard a woman’s voice outside. Had he brought a serving maid with him? Footsteps came to the front door and entered the hallway. I heard a woman’s high-pitched giggle and a man say something. It was Jasper.
At that moment, I had a strong sense that I shouldn’t be here. I went hot, then cold. This was bad, very bad. But I had no time to do anything.
The door opened; and in swept Jasper, resplendent in a black frock coat under which he wore a magenta waistcoat and black breeches. Following directly behind him was a young woman dressed in a tightly corseted gold silk gown with frothy white sleeves. Her beauty took my breath away. She had shining blonde hair swept up in some complicated hairstyle I could never in my life hope to imitate and a flawless ivory complexion. Diamonds glinted in her ears and glimmered from the jewel-encrusted necklace at her swanlike throat.
‘Ah, Mercy,’ said Jasper, smiling at me guilelessly. ‘This is Lady Arabella de La Croix. Arabella, this is Mercy, our maid who will be serving us this evening.’
My heart plummeted to my toes at his words, but I took care not to move a muscle. Arabella looked at me with piercing blue eyes; she didn’t say hello. I saw her note every pockmark on my face, and her small nose wrinkled with disapproval.
‘Then why, pray tell,’ she said, looking at Jasper pointedly, ‘is she sitting at our table?’
Jasper’s eyes glinted mischievously. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Perhaps she decided to keep the seat warm for you. She’s good for things like that. Mercy, we’d like our entrée now please. Arabella my dear, why don’t you be seated?’
I got up slowly and watched Arabella flounce over, settle herself in my seat, and arrange her mass of golden skirts. I was so shocked by the turn of events I couldn’t say a word. I just stood there and kept staring at Jasper, who must’ve felt the weight of my gaze but didn’t flinch once. He got some Madeira out of the sideboard and poured two glasses. When he sat down, he looked at me.
‘What, Mercy? Am I not paying you enough for this little extra service? I think you’ll find I am when you go into the kitchen.’ Arabella whispered something, and he chuckled. ‘No, she’s not simple. She’s actually becoming very well educated. Sebastian’s making sure of that. I’ll tell you about it over our entrée, when it finally arrives. By the way, Mercy, can you take these flowers away? They’re giving me a headache.’
I curtsied abruptly and sidled out of the room clutching the vase of sweet peas leaving the two of them alone—Arabella sipping her Madeira and Jasper gazing at her adoringly.