A Secret Passion (11 page)

Jane concentrated on the sheet of foolscap on the small kitchen table. It was covered with great splotches of black ink and smudges. She sighed as she reviewed her work. With much deliberation, she crumpled the paper. What was wrong with her? Her writing was bad, and she could not seem to lose herself in the story as in the past. Her main characters would not behave in a manner that pleased her. The protagonist was not moving the story along as forcefully as she wished. The descriptions were abysmal, the heroine witless, and the dialogue stilted. Jane was grateful when she heard the front door latch open, for it signaled a good excuse to end this torture.

“Jane, dear, I have such news!” her aunt exclaimed as she bustled in, carrying several small parcels. “I’m sorry to be so late, but Mrs. Gurcher and Cynthia Richardson would not let me escape from the butcher without filling my ear with the latest
on-dit
,” continued Clarissa, a bit out of breath. Jane shuffled and tapped her sheath of papers on the well-worn table before tying the bundle with an old red ribbon and placing it in a box.

“Pray tell, what is the news?” asked Jane. She felt her chest tighten as she wondered if anyone could possibly know of her liaison with the earl.

“Mrs. Gurcher said the earl left for London this morning in great haste,” she responded. “This is a shame for you, Jane.”

“Please, don’t say that. I have no interest in any dealings concerning that gentleman. He is arrogant, conceited, and abominable in every way,” Jane stated firmly.

“Careful, my dear. He is a gentleman, and I have not witnessed any bad behavior on his part. Are you sure you are not still angry from the embarrassment of him hiding his identity from you the first time you met?”

Jane paused and then laughed as she began laying the small dining table with silverware. “It is vastly unfair of you to remind me of that. You know what a bore he is.” With her eyes focused on the table, she rushed into forbidden territory. “And what of Sir Thomas? Has he left as well?”

Clarissa’s visage paled. “I have no idea.” Her aunt moved the platter of cold meats and a loaf of bread onto the table.

As they sat at the table and unfolded their napkins, Jane said, “Are you ever going to tell me about Sir Thomas, Aunt?”

“I have told you. He was a suitor many, many years ago. But I left London and he married. And I am sorry to say that he insists on tormenting me. I am sorry, too, Jane that he most likely awakened you last night. But I am not sorry he came, because we spoke and now he will torment me no further.” Clarissa looked up from her plate, and Jane saw the glitter of unshed tears in her aunt’s eyes.

Jane excused herself from the table and reached into a cupboard for the half-full bottle of wine and two glasses. She poured the richly colored liquid into the glasses and gave her aunt time to recover. “Aunt, I have made a decision today. I have written to Harry and will go to Cornwall next week or in a fortnight at the latest. I have trespassed long enough on your kindness.” She put up a hand as Clarissa started to speak. “Please don’t ask me to stay. I know I can never return to London. But Cornwall is so far removed from the eyes of the Upper Ten Thousand that I will feel comfortable living there.”

“But where will you live?” asked Clarissa.

“With Harry’s family, I hope.” Jane paused before rushing on. “We will be married… if he will have me, that is.”

“Jane! Please don’t be impetuous. Think more carefully what it will mean. It is the rest of your life you are speaking of.”

“I have never been more rational in my life. For years I have done as bidden by my elders. I even married my father’s choice of a husband. But not again. I am going to do, for the first time, what I want. My only regret is you. My father’s estate shall surely crumble, and so too will your allowance. But we shall figure out a way, one step at a time,” Jane concluded.

Clarissa’s wide eyes searched Jane’s face. She nervously smoothed her graying hair and rearranged her tattered brown shawl. “How will you travel? Please don’t say by your horse.”

“Have no fear. I will go very respectfully, by the mail coach,” Jane said with a smile.

“Oh, but, Jane, you haven’t a maid. It is entirely improper,” Clarissa said with a wail. Her aunt stood up and began pacing the floor. Silence filled the room save for the creaking of the floorboards. “I shall accompany you, then.”

The idea had crossed Jane’s mind, so she urged her aunt to take the trip. “I will be honored to have you near my side when I wed,” she said as she leaned forward to kiss her aunt. “Thank you for granting me one of my fondest wishes.”

A cold, wet day found Jane and Clarissa boarding the mail coach, with their two bandboxes stowed on top. Jane had entered the coach after checking at the inn to see if Harry had sent a letter. Empty-handed again after nearly two weeks of impossible waiting, Jane felt her spirits sag.

“Are you sure he will be there?” asked Clarissa again.

“Yes, yes. I told you he was expected home from university this last month. His studies are complete. All will be fine,” Jane answered with as much certainty as she could muster. “We will go to the manse as soon as we arrive. He might even be waiting for us in Land’s End. I told you I sent him another letter to announce our arrival.”

Clarissa held her tongue, though Jane was certain her aunt longed to chastise her for writing letters to unrelated gentlemen. Clarissa’s arguments against her plan had had no effect. Jane reflected that following the rules of the
ton
had brought little happiness to either one of them.

The two ladies jolted forward as the driver set the team to their paces. They were quite lucky to be alone in the coach save for a thin, elderly gentleman who had a very yellow mustache and teeth that were even more yellow. He hiccoughed once or twice and promptly nodded off. Clarissa spent the time reading her niece’s latest three chapters, and made encouraging sounds. Jane’s anxiety refused to be kept at bay as she looked out the window laced with raindrops.

A change of horses and a cold luncheon at an inn four hours later did little to ease her worries. The old gentleman was replaced by a beautiful governess with cloying perfume who was also headed toward Cornwall. Almost all of Jane’s and Clarissa’s conversation halted as soon as they discerned that the governess was trying to eavesdrop. The rest of the two-day wet journey was completed in near silence, with each of the three women privy to her own thoughts. The mud slowed their progress and dampened even further their already depressed spirits.

In due course they arrived in Cornwall. The sharp cry of seagulls announced their arrival. The rain had finally abated, and the sun’s first rays bounced off the shiny, wet whitewashed houses of Cornwall. Colorful primroses peeked over the tops of some of the village’s window boxes as the ladies descended onto the village square. The coachman tugged the bandboxes from their moorings and bid the ladies a good day.

Within moments, it became clear that no one was there to meet them. Seeing Jane’s disappointment, Clarissa suggested they have a bit of tea at the nearby inn. Clarissa had already formed a plan, as she had had less faith that someone would meet them. While walking toward the inn, her attention was caught by a dilapidated old carriage being driven too fast.

Clarissa turned in time to witness the amazing transformation of Jane’s face. Her happiness seemed to pour out of every fiber of her body. Despite the impropriety of it, Jane cried out, “Harry, Harry!” while flapping her arms over her head. Harry’s team clip-clopped onto the square, and he tossed down the reins to a stableboy from the inn. He grabbed Jane around the waist and whisked her around in circles.

“Am I glad to see you again, Duck! It has been forever!” exclaimed Harry as he popped a kiss on her forehead. A lock of unruly hair fell into his light brown eyes.

“I knew you would come. I just knew you wouldn’t let us down,” Jane exclaimed.

“Let me guess. Miss Fairchild wasn’t as trusting, I take it?” retorted Harry while showing Clarissa his boyish grin.

“It is nice to see you again, too, Mr. Thompson,” responded Clarissa in her most prim voice.

Harry laughed and asked the ladies if they would join his family at the manse for supper. Jane answered in all happy eagerness, failing miserably to bring her emotions under control. During their ride to the manse, Harry regaled the ladies with tales of his college years. Clarissa’s even temper allowed her to roll her eyes only once during the journey. She did try to judge Harry’s heart, however, to better benefit her niece. As far as she could tell, Harry seemed to be in his typical good humor, with as many pranks to tell as always. He hid his feelings quite well.

Supper at the manse turned out to be a complicated affair. The Reverend Thompson was flanked by his wife, his two sons, and three daughters. In addition, Harry’s youngest sister, Fanny, had asked “her dearest friend in the world” from school, a “delightful” girl by the name of Kitty Dodderidge, to spend a few weeks in the country with the Thompsons. The large party of ten crammed into the smallish dining parlor of the manse. Mrs. Thompson’s shrill voice shouted directions to the serving girl as the reverend’s booming voice sallied through every conversation. It was always like this at the Thompson household. Clarissa had forgotten how difficult it was to carry on any rational conversation. Each person clamored for attention, and family members cut into conversations and switched topics faster than the notes of a piano concerto. When the cacophony reached a particularly loud pitch, Jane eyed Clarissa and smiled.

At that moment Harry stood up. “Hear, hear!” he exclaimed. “I would like to make a toast to Miss Jane, er, excuse me, Mrs. Lovering.” A hoot of laughter followed this exclamation. “And to Miss Fairchild for coming back to Land’s End to celebrate my return from university.” He continued as he eyed Jane with a big grin on his face. “I can’t tell you how happy you have made me.”

Everyone cheered. Clarissa’s discerning eyes were quick to notice the less than eager applause by Miss Dodderidge and the look of adoration in her eyes when she gazed at Harry. With a sinking heart, she looked at Jane and wished again that the events of Jane’s and her own life had turned out far differently. She turned her attention to the burnt pudding and resolutely began to consume the politic amount.

Jane’s feelings were so very far removed from her aunt’s. She was exhilarated by being in the same room with the man she loved. She was on familiar ground again for the first time in a very long time. The years spent with Cutty, and the months since his death, seemed to be of another lifetime. She was home. Cornwall. The land of her childhood. The land of her mother. She longed to have Harry to herself and to converse privately with him, but knew it was impossible for the moment. He looked so young, so openhearted, and so full of joy, as always. So different from Cutty and the Earl of Graystock. She shook her head slightly as she looked down at the burnt pudding and pushed it around her plate a few more times.

After the early supper—for the Thompsons kept country hours—Harry proposed a game of badminton in the side garden. Miss Dodderidge jumped at the idea and forwarded that she would like to be on Harry’s team. The sides formed naturally—Harry and Miss Dodderidge were joined by two of Harry’s sisters, Lillian and Fanny. Harry’s older brother, William, was left with Jane, Clarissa, and Sarah Thompson. The game commenced with much giggling and Miss Dodderidge falling into Harry. He laughed and when doing so looked to Jane with almost a request for reassurance.

The game was suspended when darkness overtook the group. Jane was frustrated again when Miss Dodderidge took Harry’s arm to go inside for coffee in the music room. She had hoped to detain Harry to speak privately with him. But it was not to be. Clarissa intoned her opinion that it was time for her niece and herself to say good night. Harry offered to bring around the carriage, but was stopped by Miss Dodderidge again. With a slight blush, and a batting of eyelashes, she insisted that he must stay to play charades. Before Harry replied, William said he would be delighted to take the ladies to Pembroke, as he had no interest in charades. With pursed lips and downcast eyes, Jane accepted his offer and said good-bye to the Thompsons and their guest. Harry winked at her and said he would pay a visit on the morrow.