Chapter Twenty-two
WITHIN TWO WEEKS, JANE’S family had returned to their old home near Cavendish Square. The familiar house was just as they had left it, as no new tenant had leased it in their absence. Her sisters, in particular the still subdued Charlotte, were delighted to re-inhabit their old rooms.
Jane worked long hours at the London Welfare League Home, taking over Mrs. Courtice’s duties on top of her own. The need for the institution’s services was as great as ever.
Lady Elizabeth called on Jane the day after her arrival in London and informed her that Jonathan had also returned to town earlier than expected.
It felt strange to be within a few miles of each other but not have any contact.
When reading the morning paper at breakfast, she often looked up from an article ready to discuss it with him, as she had done during their enchanted week cut off from the world at Everslie Park.
Elizabeth’s news that Dr. Logan’s inheritance had reduced the barriers to their engagement did not a surprise Jane.
She had suspected Dr. Logan’s newfound wealth would make him a much more acceptable suitor.
The doctor now planned to take a younger partner into his practice so he could reduce his working hours while retaining his charitable work.
This step would free his time for a family and a social life and make him better able to accommodate an aristocratic wife.
There was real hope now that the wedding would take place at the end of the year.
Within a few days of her return, Lady Elizabeth brought word of a new pamphlet writer whose ideas were sensational among the upper classes.
“I must tell you.” Blushing, Lady Elizabeth said, “At first I thought the writer must be Marcus, as the information contained in it is along the lines of things he has told me.”
Jane was intrigued. “What topic could lead you to think such a thing?”
“Women’s rights, but specifically their right to limit the number of children they bear... and how to achieve that.” Elizabeth colored.
Jane was astonished by this new development. They discussed who the writer might be, but Jane was baffled. No one in their circle of reformers had any idea who it was and openly said so.
“Who is the printer? We may be able to find out from him,” Jane suggested.
“Whoever it is, he is not admitting it. That implies he is being paid to do the printing and keep quiet about the author.”
The new pamphleteer quickly caused mayhem throughout Society.
Conservatives were buying up the pamphlets to silence the author, and liberal thinkers were buying them to disseminate more widely.
One thing was certain—the printer was making his fortune, because the author kept funding print runs.
The initiative gave Jane some hope that her views and those of her colleagues were at last expanding through the population.
However, it became harder and harder for Jane to drag herself through each busy day.
A deep loneliness and longing for someone with whom to share her dreams was growing.
She had to admit that Jonathan’s brief trajectory through her life had lit the firmament of her soul.
Her longing for his presence grew greater, not less, with time.
It shocked her that their brief connection, set against the backdrop of her family chaos, had had such a profound effect upon her.
They shared interests in current affairs, politics, and the classics, but when Jane paused in her tasks it was their joyous, exhilarating night together that she remembered.
Charlotte had been right—they had been a love match after all, at least on her side.
Now she understood the longing for a loved one’s touch, for his company, for his physical expression of love.
The pain of their parting had not gone away. She hoped it would soon.
The stark office at the women’s home, barely lit by winter sunlight, did little to distract her thoughts, but she was determined to overcome her weakness. She took up her pen again.
Love him or not, she steeled herself not to give in to her emotions.
She would not go to him and beg to resume their relationship.
Besides, there was no guarantee that he would have her back and every possibility that he wouldn’t.
Even if he did, the issues of his making conservative edicts and their divergent beliefs remained a massive impediment.
So too was Jane’s preference not to spend the next fifteen years of her life producing babies and even longer raising them.
She had briefly pushed this resolution out of her mind when her need to save her family had been foremost in her decision-making.
She had imagined that once Jonathan had his heir, he would tire of her, that they would cease that side of their marriage.
If he did not lose interest, then perhaps she would find a way to ensure there were not too many pregnancies without barring him from her bed.
Her thoughts in this area, as to how, had been vague. Now, thanks to the recent pamphleteer, women might be more able to take control of this aspect of their lives.
She could not overlook his apparent duplicity.
Jane had twisted her brain into knots trying to decide how she could possibly determine whether Lord Marchmere’s assertion was true.
Short of asking him, what could she do? There was no guarantee Marchmere would tell the truth.
Nor was it possible to know whether Marchmere had just made an assumption about Jonathan’s motives.
The busy sounds beyond the office door brought her attention back to her current task. She pulled the account book closer and totaled a column. She was no closer to any answers.