6
Aleisurely luncheon at Deerwood Park was served in a small dining room whose windows opened out onto the gardens and orchards.
From her seat, Jane could look out and see men up ladders, beginning to harvest the apple crop.
From the heavily bent boughs, she was sure it would be a good one, which meant there would be plenty of cider and apple pies and puddings in the weeks and months to come.
She found it difficult to take part in the easy conversation that flowed around the table and knew she was causing her godfather to cast her anxious glances once more.
But her mind was in a whirl of confusion and when the coffee was served, she took her cup and moved to where a window seat gave her a sunny spot in which to sit and think.
Celeste and the Colonel! It was hard to credit what she had been told but the more she watched and noticed how much care he took about where the Italian girl was seated, if her glass was full, the way he chose certain choice pieces of meat and fruit for her from the serving dishes, she began to see his regard in a new light.
What she had, up until then, considered the actions of a concerned cousin, could indeed be deciphered in a very different fashion.
And now she was worried because if this was the case, then Celeste could not possibly stay here at Deerwood Park, living alone with the Colonel without a proper chaperone.
The arrival of a very young cousin from abroad on a visit would have raised no eyebrows—it would be considered in exactly the same fashion as Jane herself coming to stay.
But if a hint of romantic involvement was aired abroad …
Rumours would soon spread; the servants would gossip and both their reputations would suffer.
There was no denying that they had been under the same roof for several weeks already, but she could do nothing about that. The future was, however, in her hands.
On the walk home, Jane had almost decided that whatever Celeste said, she would pack and inform Susannah that they would be returning to Pemberley in the next few days. But now she realised that if they left, then any ongoing scandal would be partly her fault.
She had no protective feelings towards Celeste, indeed she was sure the girl was quite thick skinned enough to survive any amount of gossip, but the Colonel was a sensitive man and any hint that his actions were morally wrong, would distress him.
If his neighbours began to talk behind his back, he would be mortified.
Jane knew she could not allow that if she could prevent it somehow.
She intended to write to her mother that very evening, asking for her advice.
True, Celeste had said her relationship with the Colonel was a secret, but perhaps she could suggest that they were both invited to Pemberley.
That would be the best thing to achieve.
Indeed, her Papa should know of Celeste’s existence sooner, rather than later, as should the elderly Earl Fitzwilliam, the head of the ancient family to which her grandmama had belonged.
Jane frowned: it was odd that the Colonel had not yet told his closest family that a new cousin had arrived to join them.
On the other side of the room, Archer Maitland stood, coffee cup in hand, half listening to Andrew and Celeste talking about some ancient ruins in Sicily, aware that Miss Courtney and the Colonel were still discussing the troubled political situation in quiet voices.
He glanced across the room to where Jane Darcy sat by the open window, the afternoon sunlight sparking glints from her fair hair. She looked a long way away, lost in her thoughts. She was frowning slightly, as if what she was thinking was not very agreeable.
For some bizarre reason, he wished that she looked happier.
He had never seen her twin look anything but content and assured on the occasions they had met and it seemed unfair that this girl should appear to have all the worries of the world on her shoulders.
And, he thought irritably, what could she possibly have to be anxious about?
She was young, wealthy, the cherished, protected daughter of loving parents.
Over-loving, if Miss Anne was to be believed.
Was that why she was frowning, perhaps? Did she feel she was not getting the required amount of attention from her godfather now that Celeste Fiorette was here at Deerwood? The Colonel’s attentions towards his Italian cousin were warm and constant. That frown could be one of jealousy.
He swallowed down a mouthful of coffee that was far too hot and winced as it burnt his mouth. What was wrong with him, wasting his time on wondering what was going on inside that pretty head? Probably no more than trying to decide which dress to wear for dinner that evening.
Before he could consider his actions, he strode across the room. “Once more I find you are quiet at mealtime, Miss Jane. I fear the Colonel’s cook will begin to wonder that the flavours in her dishes fall sadly below your expectation.”
Jane smiled: “Why Mrs Blunt has known me for a good many years, Sir. She is well aware of all my likes and dislikes and even if there was a dish I found fault with, I would only discuss it with her and not in front of guests.”
Archer grinned suddenly and Jane realised it made him look years younger than the twenty five or six years she was sure he had celebrated.
“That remark brings back memories of my grandfather—he was a retired Admiral of the Fleet, a gentleman with a terrible temper that grew worse as he grew older—caused by gout, I do believe. I recall, as a child, seeing him pick up a whole dish of potatoes that he had decided were not properly cooked and hurl them onto the floor!”
“Goodness! What did your parents say?”
Archer’s face changed and the frown returned.
“Sadly they were divided from my grandparents on their marriage. I am afraid that they did not approve of my mother’s choice of husband.
It was a very sad state of affairs. They were all as stubborn as each other and no matter how much I pleaded for a reconciliation, they refused.
“My father died when I was fourteen; my mother and I remained living in the town of Alresford, near Winchester, where he had his law practice until her death. I found it hard to grieve for her. She loved my father so much; she just wanted to be with him.”
He paused for a second, his eyes darker still with pain.
“I went to live with my grandparents in London until my grandfather’s death.
That was when my grandmother decided she needed a country home as well as her London abode and purchased Robyns.
And of course, by that time, I had moved out into my own lodgings. ”
Impulsively, Jane reached out and touched his arm.
She could tell by his voice and the look in his eyes that the loss of his father had hurt him deeply.
She could not imagine being without her own dear papa.
Although he was a man with a reserved nature, not given to shows of outward affection, she knew herself to be loved dearly and the void in her life if he was to die would be unbearable.
Admiral Goddard sounded terrifying! How different had been dear Mr Bennet, her own grandfather.
His visits to Pemberley when she was a child had always given her much pleasure.
They had shared a great love of books and had often sat together in the library talking and discussing what they had read.
And even though the money was not important to her, the bequest to all his female grandchildren in his will, “in order that they did not have to marry the first fool who asked them,” had always made her laugh when she thought of it.
For a brief moment Archer covered her fingers with his own, then took a deep breath and reverted to his usual, slightly arrogant attitude.
“You will meet my grandmama when you come to Robyns for dinner, Miss Jane. She will be intrigued—she has already had the pleasure of your sister’s company in London. ”
“I fear she may well be disappointed if she expects another Anne at her dinner table. We are not alike, except in general appearance.”
“I found Miss Anne to be a very accomplished and delightful companion.”
Jane nodded, feeling as she so often did, that sensation of being second best to her glittering twin. “She is all of those things and more.” A flicker of mischief crossed her face. “And an excellent dancer, of course. I am sure your grandmother noticed that particular accomplishment.”
“I fear that we will not have enough couples at dinner to make up even one small set for dancing, so Grandmama will not be able to judge your abilities.”
Jane stood up, smoothing down her skirts. “Then I fear, Mr Maitland, you will never know how I compare to Anne! And now, with your pardon, I think I will walk in the orchard and watch the men harvesting the apples. I love this time of year.”
Archer bowed and stood sipping his coffee, watching from the window as the girl appeared, making her way along the grassy track between the heavily laden trees.
He saw her stop and talk to the head gardener, noticing that the man carefully steered her away from any danger of being hit by falling fruit and guided her to a bench where she could watch the harvest in safety.
He could tell by the man’s demeanour that Jane was popular with the servants and realised, with something of a shock, that Anne would never have dreamt of getting involved in such a countrified occupation.
“Are you comparing the young lady to her sister?” Andrew had joined him at the window, intrigued by his friend’s expression.
“Oh, there is no comparison to be made. It is difficult to believe they are twins, even though on first sight they are alike to look at.”
“You once told me that you were tempted to ask for Miss Anne Darcy’s hand in marriage? Are you still of like mind?”