Chapter 29
After breaking their fast together, Lambrook requested John to ride out with him. A day in the saddle with his beloved Anubis and his son’s attention could only be upstaged by a curricle outing with Lady Lambrook. Alas, she had yet to rise.
They rode at a hard canter across the fields towards Haye-Park before reining their mounts to a slow walk. He glanced at John and said, “I understand the Miss Bennets shall go to town for a Season.”
“Lady Matlock shall sponsor Miss Bennet,” John confirmed.
“The Bennets have very satisfactory connexions,” agreed Lambrook.
John smiled. “I shall pursue her hand in town.”
“I cannot permit that.”
John frowned. “Whyever not?”
Lambrook remained silent. Spending these past few years watching his son pine for his broken betrothal to Jane Bennet, and then hearing the news of her recovery and wish to have a London Season had been bittersweet. He was reluctant to hurt his son any further by constraining his wish to go to town.
“Tell me all, Father.” John’s tone brooked no dissent.
Lambrook hesitated but a moment, then told him of the Somerset Seymours. Their profligacy. Their amoral activities. Their desire to have the Lambrook estates to satisfy their creditors.
“My cousin is a wastrel, and a dangerous one at that. Once you were born, I feared he would resort to drastic measures.”
“Thus, our lives here in the country, rather than our proper estate,” replied John.
“Protecting you and your mother has been my most important responsibility. Cambridge was a safe oasis. You were always with company.” Lambrook’s brow furrowed. “We never wished to deprive you of anything. Your mother and I are proud of your accomplishments, and even more so for the honourable way you have achieved them.”
“Thank you.” John looked off at the distance. “I have always preferred the country, even on my travels abroad.” He looked back at his father. “Let us speak of this later, and put aside our noxious relations and enjoy the day. Shall we take a fence?”
“Call the mark,” replied Lambrook.
Both faced up and turned their mounts. Knees tight, Lambrook nodded. “Mark!” shouted John, and they were off.
Ishtar and Anubis were neck and neck as father and son raced back to the stable. At the stump, they both cut hard left and continued. The final fence loomed ahead; the winner only had to clear it.
Both horses vaulted simultaneously. The victorious mount landed and turned about; the other snapped a foreleg upon landing, and both horse and rider fell in defeat.
Hertfordshire Crier, May 1810
Died on Thursday the 11th, Mr Charles John Smyth of Netherfield Park in Hertfordshire County. He was a loving husband and doting father and died a humble Christian.
Jane walked the grounds at Netherfield Park between Kitty and Elizabeth. Across the lawn, she spied John with Miss Harrington and Miss Long. Moments later, two trios met face-to-face on a narrow garden path.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said.
“Good afternoon,” answered Jane, noting his weariness. Her heart ached for his loss.
“Have you called with your parents?” he asked.
“Yes, they are with your mother?—”
“For heaven’s sake, is she to receive every Bennet in the country?” interrupted Miss Harrington with a dramatic sigh.
“It has always been our pleasure to do so, madam.” John turned away from her and looked at Jane. “You are looking very well.”
“I am pleased to see you in good health, too,” she replied. “I am so sorry about your father. He was a kind man.”
John nodded and tried pulling himself away from the grasping arms of Miss Harrington and Miss Long. “May I walk with you?”
“Thank you, but we must be leaving.” She gestured at Netherfield’s front steps, where Mr and Mrs Bennet were descending with Mary and Lydia.
Kitty spoke up. “You are so charmingly grouped already.” She squeezed Jane’s arm.
Jane guided her sisters towards their carriage. “Did you just paint Effie and Penny as heifers, ‘Miss Gilpin’?” asked Elizabeth with a wide smile.
They laughed as they shared Kitty’s quip with their parents. At Longbourn, Jane changed into a walking dress and went to the stables. She found she could purge her anxiety by speaking aloud to the horses, imagining her favourite, Eirene, understood her feelings.
Horses do not judge fashion or looks. They judge only character.Eirene rubbed her face against Jane’s. “You bolster my point,” she laughed.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled the welcome scents of the stable and began combing the horse’s mane.
John’s guilt at being seen by Jane and her sisters with the two graceless termagants ate at him, and he had hurriedly made his way to Longbourn to apologise. Now that he had arrived, he knew not what to do. He stood fixed in place, finding it hard to breathe. Until an hour ago, he had not seen Jane without her veils since that day in the stillroom so very long ago. Now, still barefaced, she was grooming Eirene. Her ethereal beauty shook his equilibrium. Mr Bennet’s voice shattered his reverie.
“Lord Lambrook,” he said. “We have just returned from our call. Is something amiss with Lady Lambrook?”
John blushed as Jane turned towards him, a quizzical look on her face. “My mother is well and sends her thanks.” He reached in his pocket and produced a note. “I have an invitation for Mrs Bennet.”
“Very well. Jane, why do you not escort your friend inside. I would like to speak to his lordship in my study.”
Jane brushed out her dress before taking his arm. She never stopped staring at him as he escorted her into the manor house. John knew she had questions he would rather not answer.
Bennet sat across from his dead friend’s son in his study, where the young man had declined his offer for a drink. He secretly approved the decision; the man would require all of his wits when speaking next with Jane. The new Lord Lambrook was making a fine effort to remain composed; diverting as it was, it was time to talk.
“You continue to hold onto your regard for Jane?”
“For as long as it requires.”
“That is quite an admission.” Bennet pondered his thoughts as he studied the young earl. His family connexions extended to a dukedom, rotten to the core, though they were. “Your constancy is admirable.”
“When Jane broke our betrothal, I vowed to be her friend. On that, I shall never renege.” He looked Bennet directly in the eye. “Under any circumstances.”
“You may believe you have considered all factors, but I caution you that you are in error.”
“Will you do me the honour to clarify my fault in understanding?”
Bennet leant back in his seat. “Does Jane know who you truly are, Lord Lambrook?”
“She does not, although you have now given her some teasing awareness, of course,” he said in a measured voice. “Thus, she now knows her understanding is not what it was.”
Bennet was impressed. His answer contained no accusation or rancour. “Have you told your mother of your continued desire to wed Jane?”
Lambrook’s smile caught him unawares. “I have. She remains in agreement with my late father.”
“Yes, he had informed me of his support prior to your proposal.” Bennet sat back and pondered the situation. “I will grant you an unchaperoned audience with Jane to clarify your standing. You may take as long as you need, as you likely will feel her ire. But no other offers are to be made.”
The young man appeared instantly affronted. “Do you consider me unworthy of Jane’s hand, sir?”
“You misunderstand me, Lambrook.”
“Please enlighten me, Bennet.”
Bennet smiled. The young lord was top-notch. “Jane must have a London Season.” He held up his hand to forestall the expected objection. “If you are to see her as your countess, she must experience society and what those responsibilities entail, and the dangers that come with such a role.” Bennet paused. “You cannot protect her from the world at large. Nor would she want you to do so.”
“I understand. With your permission, may I continue to send tokens?”
“I would expect no less. I shall leave it for you two to settle things between you by the Season’s close.”
“I will sit by the door. Good luck,” whispered Mrs Bennet as she patted his arm.
John looked across the large parlour to see Jane standing beside the hearth. She stared out the window, her left side towards the door. Jane looked to him over her shoulder; as handsome as she was in his memories of three years ago, this more mature version—more sculpted and defined, despite diminished facial scars—was achingly beautiful.
“Miss Bennet... Jane, may we sit?” He held out his hand. She placed hers in his and joined him upon the settee.
“Your father has informed me you will go to town for the Season.”
Jane stared at him, her face a mask of neutrality.
“Much as I wish to, I cannot join you. Family matters require me to stay in the locality.”
“Your mother needs you, but what family do you refer to, Mr Smyth? Or must I address you as Lord Lambrook?”
John knew not what to say.
“Is this a lark you play? Have you been laughing at me?”
“No, of course not!”
“I wonder if I ever knew you at all.” She turned her head away.
“Jane. Please.”
“I am Miss Bennet to you, your lordship.” She bit her lip. “I regret if I sound cold while your mourning is so fresh, but I cannot understand you.”
John waited for Jane to return his gaze. He then explained his family’s history and the hurdle he represented to the Somerset dukedom line of succession.
“I am second in line for those patents, but the current duke and his son, the marquess, still live.” He retook her hand. “We do not spend time with those Seymours, as their lifestyle disgusts us.”
It heartened him to see her lips lift into a grin.
“You thus refer to Somerset Place as a less than upstanding estate?”
He chuckled. “I cannot confirm whether the structure exudes the same noxiousness as my cousins.” He basked in Jane’s giggling.
“Oh, John.” She looked down at her clasped hands. He reached over and took them into his.
“Jane, please. We have been friends for years. Almost more than friends.”
“We have. That is why your subterfuge is so hurtful.”
“Unknowingly, I assure you. My father revealed it to me the day of his death.” He squeezed her hands. “How can I make amends?”
Jane tilted her head. “Vow to me this one thing.”
“Anything. I am yours to command.”
“Command you, my lord?”
“Yes,” he smiled. “I will do anything in my power to restore your faith in me.”
“This is your vow?”
“It is.”
Jane stared directly at him. “If you value our friendship, you will never keep a secret from me again.”