Day 7 #2
Colonel Andrews had trouble unplasticizing his smile.
Mr. Nobley was looking at Jane with a strangely earnest expression, almost as if he were about to ask her to be his partner. She doubted her assessment and quickly turned to Captain East, declaring, “I am your eager partner if you’ll have me.”
Captain East joined her at once, his broad smile in place.
His easy conversation flowed, keeping her from worrying if she was saying or doing the wrong thing, and his working-man-build-meets-gentlemanly-grace was working for him every inch.
Not that Jane was looking at every inch, except when his back was turned.
He kept the discussion on the weather, but did it in a very beguiling manner.
To Jane’s mind, clouds had never seemed so sexy.
As the game progressed, Andrews and Charming took the lead with professional zeal, followed by Heartwright and Nobley, a quiet but impressive pairing.
Lingering in the rear, Erstwhile and East talked the talk but couldn’t walk the walk.
The worse they played, the more Jane felt inebriated on bad sports and her partner’s undulating laughter.
Despite his athletic build, Captain East held the mallet in his hand as though being asked to eat steak with chopsticks.
Jane found his ineptitude hilarious, he further hammed it up for her benefit, and she laughed so hard she couldn’t get a ball through a wicket to save her life.
Captain East straddled the ball and pulled the mallet back.
“Careful, careful,” Jane said.
He swung—a hollow thock, and the ball smashed into a tree.
“I swear I’m trying my best.” The captain’s chuckle made his voice go dry and deep, and Jane thought if he really let himself go, he might actually bray. “I’ve never played this game before.”
Jane leaned against his arm, snorting through a giggle, which made her giggle harder. Through tears, she spotted a hazy Mr. Nobley looking back in her direction.
“Captain East, do you see how Mr. Nobley keeps giving us that look?” said Jane, wiping her eyes. “Do you suppose he’s ashamed to know us?”
“No one could be ashamed to know you, Miss Erstwhile,” said Captain East.
It was precisely the right thing to say, and somehow that made it wrong.
Jane wondered if Mr. Nobley had heard it, wondered what he thought.
Then asked herself why she cared about Mr. Nobley’s opinion.
The only discovery she could make was a hard bite of truth, like a piece of apple stuck in her throat—she did care.
A lot. The thought rankled. Why was the judgment of the disapproving so valuable?
Who said that their good opinions tended to be any more rational than those of generally pleasant people?
Jane’s turn to swing. Her grip on the mallet slipped, the ball lurched forward a dramatic two inches, and they laughed again. Mr. Nobley was still staring their way. Was it possible that he wished he were laughing too?
“Look, Miss Erstwhile,” said Captain East. “Someone is arriving.” His voice twinged with interest, and she guessed the actor had no idea who it could be.
A carriage and two horses pulled up at the house’s entrance.
A new guest was big news at Pembrook Park, and all three couples abandoned the game to inquire.
But soon they were able to see two servants carrying a trunk the wrong way—from the house to the carriage.
Someone was going, not coming. And the trunk was Jane’s.
When she spied Mrs. Wattlesbrook hovering about the scene, Jane felt her stomach squirm as though she smelled rotten meat.
“What’s going on?” Jane asked.
“Your maid discovered an unmentionable among your things.” Mrs. Wattlesbrook dangled a cell phone between her pinched fingers. Jane glared at the maid, Matilda, who smiled smugly.
Probably gets a bonus for getting rid of me, Jane thought. The little turd.
“I believe I was very clear, Miss Erstwhile. We thank you for your stay and I regret that your actions have forced me to cut it short.”
“You’re really going to kick me out?”
“Yes, I really am.” Mrs. Wattlesbrook folded her arms.
Jane bit her lip and bent her head back to look at the sky. Funny that it seemed so far away. It felt as if it were pressing down on her head, shoving her into the dirt. What a mean bully of a sky.
Much of the household was present now. Miss Heartwright was huddled with the main actors, whispering, like rubberneckers shocked at a roadside accident but unable to look away.
A couple of gardeners strolled up as well, tools in hand.
Martin wiped his brow, confusion (sadness?) heavy on his face.
Jane was embarrassed to see him, remembering how she’d ended things, and feeling less than appealing at the moment.
The whole scene was rather Hester Prynne, and Jane imagined herself on a scaffold with a scarlet P for “phone” on her chest.
She realized she was still holding her croquet mallet and wondered that no one felt threatened by her. She hefted it. Would it be fun to bash in a window? Nah. She handed it to Miss Charming.
“Go get ’em, Charming.”
“Okay,” Miss Charming said uncertainly. “But, Jane, what’s happening?”
“I’m being expelled.” Jane lifted her knuckles and held them out to her. “Sisters before misters.”
Still looking confused, Miss Charming knocked her knuckles and declared, “Hoes before bros.”
“Menses before gents-ies.” Jane laughed at her thin little joke, but it felt forced.
“If you would be so kind as to step into the carriage,” said Mrs. Wattlesbrook.
Curse the woman. Jane had just started to have such fun, too. Why didn’t one of the gentlemen come forward to defend her? Wasn’t that, like, their whole purpose of existence? She supposed they’d be fired if they did. The cowards.
She stood on the carriage’s little step and turned to face the others.
She’d never left a relationship with the last word, something poetic and timeless, triumphant amid her downfall.
Oh, for a perfect line! She opened her mouth, hoping something just right would come to her in the moment, sum up the whole experience and make it all make sense.
But Miss Heartwright spoke first. “Mrs. Wattlesbrook! Oh dear, I have only now realized what transpired.” She lifted the hem of her skirts and minced her way to the carriage.
“Please wait, this is all my fault. Poor Miss Erstwhile was only doing me a favor. You see, the modern contraption was mine. I did not realize I had it until I arrived, and I was so distressed, Miss Erstwhile kindly offered to keep it for me amongst her own things where I would not have to look upon it.”
Jane stood very still. She thought to wonder what instinct made her body rigid when shocked. Was she prey by nature? A rabbit afraid to move when a hawk wheels overhead? Mrs. Wattlesbrook had not moved either, not even to blink. Silent moments limped forward as everyone waited.
“I see,” the proprietress said at last. She looked at Jane, at Miss Heartwright, and then fumbled with the keys at her side. “Well, now, ahem, since it was an accident, I think we should forget it ever happened. I do hope, Miss Heartwright, that you will continue to honor us with your presence.”
Ah, you old witch, Jane thought.
“Yes, of course, thank you.” Miss Heartwright was in her best form, all proper feminine concern, artless and pleasant. Her eyes twinkled. They really did.
Everyone else began to move away, nothing disturbing left to view. Jane caught a glimpse of Martin smiling, pleased, before he turned.
“I’m so sorry, Jane,” said Miss Heartwright. “I do hope you will forgive me.”
“Please don’t mention it, Miss Heartwright.”
“Amelia.” She held Jane’s hand to help her descend from the carriage. “You must call me Amelia now.”
“Thank you, Amelia.”
It was such a sisterly moment, Jane thought they might actually embrace.
They didn’t.