8
There was still a little light left in the gloom as they journeyed to Robyns and Jane could see just how quickly the summer green had left the trees in the past few days.
Yellow, brown and bronze were now the colours of the countryside.
The wheat fields had all been harvested and stood empty with their pale stubble awaiting the horses and ploughs to prepare them for sowing the new crop.
They were traveling in the Fitzwilliam carriage, a large comfortable conveyance which soon covered the miles of narrow roadways that led inland and then southwards again towards the sea which was hidden behind the low sweep of hills.
Jane gazed out in interest as, in the dusk of the evening, with the wind blowing clouds in rags across the sky, the pale stone house with its flat face and many tall windows came into view and the carriage swung up the driveway to the front door.
Robyns looked stark, severe and unwelcoming to her eyes, and she wondered if Archer Maitland approved of the design.
It was modern in style but had none of the grace and grandeur of Pemberley which had been built a good sixty years before.
Jane knew, without doubt, that Anne would find this house pleasing and just to her taste but she could not bring herself to admire it.
There was, however, very little time to make a proper judgement as the front door swung open as they descended from the carriage and a footman ushered them into a wide hall where a maid was waiting to take their cloaks.
Jane just had time to take in marble floor, admire an impressive chandelier and glance at the large oil paintings of elderly ladies, all of whom seemed to possess dark eyes and long, thin noses and portly, red-faced gentlemen, several in naval uniform.
Then they were ushered by the footman into a drawing room where the present day owner of the thin, arrogant nose was seated in a tall chair, presiding over all she surveyed.
Jane curtsied, aware of Celeste trembling at her side, then stood, raising her gaze in acknowledgement of the older woman’s quick nod of greeting.
She was not the slightest bit afraid of meeting this Lady Goddard.
Being a shy, retiring person had not stopped her from knowing that she was a Darcy of Pemberley and a social match for anyone.
Lady Goddard was very elderly, tall, thin with a mass of grey hair dressed in a severe fashion, pulled back tightly from a face that showed very little expression. Jane had a fleeting thought—this was a woman who had never cried, never laughed, never found any happiness in life.
Sitting next to her on the sofa was a lady of middle years, but with a face lined with worry and a lifetime of hardship. She was busy sorting a giant tangle of embroidery silks, the colours splashing down her black skirt in crimsons, emeralds and bright yellows.
Archer, who had been leaning against the mantlepiece, came forward, smiling, and Jane realised that his dark eyes and dark brows had obviously been inherited from his grandmother, but luckily he had missed out on the long nose.
“Miss Jane Darcy, and Signorina Fiorette—how good to see you both. We were growing concerned as the minutes passed and you did not arrive. May I be allowed to introduce you to my grandmother, Lady Goddard. Grandmama, Miss Jane Darcy—who is, as you can see, the twin of Miss Anne Darcy whom you have already met in London, and Signorina Celeste Fiorette, a distant cousin of the Fitzwilliams.”
“Lady Goddard. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And this is my grandmother’s companion, Miss Purkiss, who seems to have been given a most impossible task to finish by dinner time.”
“Miss Darcy, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. So glad you have arrived safely, these narrow lanes, so difficult for horses … Please excuse me for not rising … these silks … such a muddle … but Mr Maitland, Sir, you are quite wrong. I shall easily sort these threads and if I do not finish, then I am sure I can eat later when I have done so.”
“Stop chuntering, Purkiss! Of course you will eat with us. The silks can wait. Indeed, they seem to be in more of a tangle than when you started!”
Lady Goddard raised her lorgnette and gazed at Jane.
“Yes, I can see the likeness to your sister. Archer told me you were twins but that it was not difficult to see the differences. Miss Anne has more vibrancy in her manner and dress, but I am sure you are only too aware of that yourself. Welcome to Robyns. And Signorina Fiorette?” She raised her lorgnette again and gazed at the girl.
“I do not know anyone of Italian descent.”
Jane flinched inwardly at the scarcely hidden barb but luckily Celeste’s English, although extremely good, was not yet up to hearing sarcasm and she said enthusiastically, “It is so good of you to invite us here, Lady Goddard. The Colonel sends his utmost regrets but is incapacitated this evening and so has had to withdraw from the party.”
“That is uncommon sad.” Dr Moore strode forward, looking concerned. “Nothing too major, I hope. He seemed well this morning when I called.”
“Indeed not, Sir,” Jane replied. “Just a flare up of an old war wound but the change of circumstances caused us to be a little late. I do hope we have not delayed dinner too badly.”
“In my day, young ladies would not have been told about war wounds,” Lady Goddard said, holding out her hand for Archer to help her from her chair. “It smacks of indelicacy.”
“I cannot see that a wound gained in the defence of your King and Country is anything to be ashamed of, Ma’am.” Jane hadn’t meant to speak out so indignantly, but she hated the thought of her dear godfather’s pain being dismissed so easily.
Lady Goddard stared at her and Archer grinned to himself. His grandmother looked as if a mouse had turned in mid escape and snarled at it’s pursuer.
“Well, let us hope for a quick recovery,” he said smoothly.
“Now, I can see our housekeeper speaking in the hallway to a footman so I imagine that dinner is served. May I take your arm, Miss Jane, and escort you to the table?” He took her arm, she could feel the warmth of his fingers on her skin and was horrified to find she was shaking.
Jane was aware of Lady Goddard’s look of displeasure as she sailed past them and walked to her seat at the top of the table in the long, beautiful but severely decorated dining room. Candles had been lit but the room was still quite dark, the drapes tightly pulled against the evening sky.
“You really must not annoy my grandmama, Miss Jane,” Archer murmured as they followed Lady Goddard. “It is very bad for her digestion and we all suffer here at Robyns if that delicate system is disturbed!”
Jane bit her lip; had she been annoying? She knew her mama would be very displeased if she had. “I can assure you I have no intention of upsetting anyone, Mr Maitland.”
Archer sighed theatrically. “And there lies your whole problem. Look at Celeste there, irritating Grandmama by flirting with Andrew, whom she looks upon as her special pet, because he is such a pleasant fellow, a far nicer person than I am, as I am sure you would agree. But I can already see that Grandmama admires her spirit.”
Jane glanced up and found his face was solemn and stern, but the look in his eyes told of humour and mischief. What a contradiction Archer Maitland presented.
She refused to take the bait and resolutely turned her attention back to the dinner table.
She had a strong suspicion that he was teasing her and she didn’t like the feelings it gave her.
None of the young men she had encountered in life so far had teased her.
Digby—oh Digby!—had always treated her with great politeness and consideration, as if she were a piece of precious porcelain that could break at a touch.
She could see that indeed Celeste was flirting with Andrew and was very tempted to tell Archer that his friend was in no danger, that Celeste and the Colonel had formed an attachment, but of course she could not break her word.
Course followed course, large portions admittedly but all of it bland, with no seasoning.
Colourless and, in Jane’s opinion, unappetizing.
Across the table, in the flickering candle light, she could clearly see Celeste’s expression of distaste and disappointment.
She had obviously been expecting a fine meal, not this poor fare.
Then, even as Jane watched, her cousin pushed her portions uneaten around her plate and then, to her horror, slipped a large piece of chicken into her napkin.
A squeak from Miss Purkiss told that she had spied what was happening but before Lady Goddard could notice, Andrew whipped it up and tucked it away in his coat pocket!
“Another jacket ruined,” Archer murmured in Jane’s ear.
“Muddy ditches, greasy chicken, steep cliffs, really Miss Jane, since meeting you and Celeste, my friend and I seem destined for all sorts of disasters. Do you always have this effect on gentlemen? I wonder what is in store for me next? Your sister never mentioned that flaw in your character, never disclosed that you had revolutionary blood in your veins.”
Jane felt a flare of unusual anger. This was unfair and unkind. She was well aware that her twin, however much she loved her, thought her a timid person with a nervous disposition. She was not the type of girl who caused problems.
“I am no revolutionary, Sir,” she snapped. “I prefer a peaceful life. I am afraid I am not the courageous type.” She looked up into his dark eyes and realised he was teasing again.
She took a deep breath; she was allowing him to annoy her, which was, of course, just what he wanted. “Perhaps one day you will meet Bennetta. If we have a firebrand in the family, it is my little sister. Nothing frightens her, I have never known her to be anything but brave.”