Day 12 #3
“Let’s toss the pretense out the window, shall we?
Go ahead and call me Jane.” He seemed saddened by that invitation, and she remembered what it meant to a Regency man to call a woman by her first name.
“Except it won’t imply that we’re engaged or anything .
. . Never mind. I’m sorry, I feel like a fool. ”
“I am the fool,” he said.
“Then here’s to fools.” Jane smiled sadly. “I should return.”
Mr. Nobley bowed. “Enjoy the ball.”
She left him in the dark library, startling herself with the suddenness of yet another ending.
But she’d done it. She’d said no. To Mr. Nobley, to the idea of Mr. Darcy, to everything that held her back.
And though it had nearly ripped her in two, now she felt so unburdened, her insides seemed made of feathers.
I’m done, Aunt Carolyn, and I know what I want now, she thought as she approached the palpable strokes of dancing music.
She pushed her way into the crowded, loud, spinning ballroom, and almost at once, a hand touched her shoulder.
“Miss Erstwhile,” said Martin.
Jane spun around, guilty to have just come from a marriage proposal, ecstatic at her refusal, dispirited by another ending, and surprised to discover Martin was the one person in the world she most wanted to see.
“Good evening, Theodore,” she said.
“I’m Mr. Bentley now, a man of land and status, hence the fancy garb. They’ll allow me to be gentry tonight because they need the extra bodies, but only so long as I don’t talk too much.”
His eyes flicked to a point across the room. Jane followed his glance and saw Mrs. Wattlesbrook wrapped in yards of lace and eyeing them suspiciously.
“Let’s not talk, then.” Jane pulled him into the next dance.
He stood opposite her, tall and handsome and so real there among all the half people.
They didn’t talk as they paraded and turned and touched hands, wove and skipped and do-si-doed, but they smiled enough to feel silly, their eyes full of a secret joke, their hands reluctant to let go. As the dance finished, Jane noticed Mrs. Wattlesbrook making her determined way toward them.
“We should probably . . .” Martin said.
Jane grabbed his hand and ran, fleeing to the rhythm of another dance tune, out the ballroom door, through the black-papered antechamber, and into the corridor. Behind them, hurried boot heels echoed.
They ran through the house and out back, crunching gravel under their feet, making for the dark line of trees around the perimeter of the park. Jane hesitated before the damp grass.
“My dress,” she said.
Martin threw her over his shoulder, her legs hanging down his front. He ran. Jostled on her stomach, Jane gave out laughter that sounded like hiccups. He weaved his way around hedges and monuments, finally stopping on a dry patch of ground hidden by trees.
“Here you are, my lady,” he said, placing her back on her feet. Jane wobbled for a moment before gaining her balance.
“So, these are your lands, Mr. Bentley.”
“Why, yes. I shape the shrubs myself. Gardeners these days aren’t worth a damn.”
“I should be engaged to Mr. Nobley tonight. You know you’ve absolutely ruined this entire experience for me.”
“I’m sorry, but I warned you, thirty seconds with me and you’ll never go back.”
“You’re right about that. I’d decided to give up on men entirely, but you made that impossible.”
“Listen, I’m not trying to start anything serious. I just—”
“Don’t worry.” Jane smiled innocently. “Weird intense Jane gone, new relaxed Jane just happy to see you.”
“You do seem different.” He touched her arms, pulled her in closer. “I’m happy to see you, too, if you’d know. I think I missed you a bit.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’m certain I could think of something nicer.
” He looked up, thinking before turning back to her again.
“I’m sorry about what I said before. All the other women I’ve seen at Pembrook Park seemed to be toying with ideas of affairs while their husbands were on business trips.
I couldn’t reconcile what I knew of the women who come here and what I knew of you.
When I saw you that day walking with Mr. Nobley and the others, I realized you’re here because you’re not satisfied—you’re looking for something.
And when I finally realized that, can you imagine how lucky I felt that out of everyone, you would choose me? ”
“Thanks,” she said. “That was honest and encouraging, but Martin, you were going for nice.”
“I wasn’t finished yet! I also wanted to tell you that you’re beautiful.”
“That’s better.”
“Unbelievably beautiful. And . . . and I don’t know how to say it. I’m not very good at saying what I’m thinking. But you make me feel like myself.” He swept a loose lock of hair from her forehead. “You remind me of my sister.”
“Oh, really? You have that kind of sister?”
“Yes, confident, funny . . .”
“No, I meant the kind that you want to smooch.”
Martin swept her up again, this time in a more romantic style than the over-the-shoulder baggage. She fit her arm around his neck and let him kiss her.
She pressed her hand to his chest, trying to detect if his heart was pounding like hers. She peered at him and saw a little frown line between his eyes.
“No,” he said, “my sister doesn’t kiss half so well.”
He walked her around, singing some ludicrous lullaby as though she were a baby, then set her to stand on a tree stump so they were nearly the same height.
“Martin, could you lose your job over this?”
He traced the line of her cheek with his finger. “At the moment, I don’t care.”
“I’ll talk to Mrs. Wattlesbrook about it at our departure meeting tomorrow, but I don’t think my opinion means much to her.”
“It might. Thank you.”
Then there was silence and with it a hint of ending, and Jane realized she wasn’t quite ready for it. Martin was the first actual man she’d ever been able to relax with, turn off the obsessive craziness and just have fun. She needed to be with him longer and practice up for the real world.
“I’m supposed to leave tomorrow,” she said, “but Mrs. Wattlesbrook cheated me out of one day of the fortnight. I’ll bet I can arrange to stay at least one more day, maybe two, if not here then in a hotel, far away from Wattlesbrook’s scope of vision.
And then . . . I could see you. Just hang out a bit before I go home, no weirdness, no pressure, I promise. ”
He smiled broadly. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse because I’m simply mad to see you in trousers. I have a feeling you have a very nice bum.”