After The Storm (3 page)

A reflection of herself made her stop and stare. She
certainly looked like a hoydenish girl.
Oh
, she thought,
no wonder he thought you a serving girl
! Not that should
give him the kind of license he had taken, but, Jenny—you are an
awful mess. Your hair is a mass of tangled disorder. Johnny used to
say he loved the gold streaks through the chestnut locks. Well,
look at that—you can’t see any gold streaks now.
Dust layered
her hair. Grass stains on her hands and old day gown made her
cluck, and she sighed before saying out loud, “Jenny, how could he
have called you pretty? You look a fright.”

He on the other hand had been quite exceptional in
appearance. His eyes were so startlingly blue, and he was, she
admitted to herself, more handsome than most. No doubt, he usually
had success with the ladies of all classes. Humph! Still, he had no
right and was certainly, though dressed like one, no gentleman.

His horse had been a prime blood, full of spirit.
They suited one another, she thought and then told herself to
forget the incident. What she needed was a bath, a nice hot, soapy
bath!

She went into her private antechamber, quickly lit a
fire, and began the process of heating water, carrying buckets one
at a time to the tub maintained in that chamber. She didn’t bother
to call for her aunt’s maid to help her, as she wanted to be alone.
Keeping busy, she’d found, was good for her.

Some twenty minutes later, and feeling the ache in
her arms from carrying the buckets, she lay back in her tub. For
some reason, however, it did not help to alleviate her irritation
over the incident. She should have told him a thing or two. If ever
she saw him again, she just might! And if all that hadn’t been
startling enough, now her father wanted her to go parade her in the
hopes of ensnaring a husband. How could she enter a London season?
She couldn’t love anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair to allow a young
hopeful to court her when she could never truly be his wife.

Some moments later, enveloped in her blue velvet
wrapper, she padded towards her bedroom, only to find Aunt Beth
already there and coming towards her.

“May I join you in your room a moment, dear?” Aunt
Beth asked hesitatingly.

She adored her father’s widowed sister. Aunt Beth had
come to live with them when her mother passed and had always been a
steady influence for her.

“Yes, of course.” Jenny looked at the huge package
she held in her hands. “What is that?”

“Dearest Jenny, pray do not be put out with me. I
could not resist, and as you would not come shopping with me, well,
I thought I would chance it and make a selection for you myself. We
have the Season coming up.” He aunt stopped and eyed her. “Yes,
well, and you cannot wear—no, not any of the gowns you have been
wearing lately, though we can spruce up a few lovely things from
last year.”

Jenny sighed heavily and did not answer this as she
went into her room to fall heavily in a ladies chair near the fire
to dry her hair.

“May I show you the two gowns I chose? One is just
the right shade of pink to go with your coloring and your
hair …”

“Of course, Aunt Beth, but tell me, are you a part of
Papa’s plan to force me onto the London scene?” Once again she
thought of the Season ahead, pictured young bucks trying to flirt
with her, friends pulling her about, and a small part of her
brightened. She then thought of Johnny, and guilt poured through
her, banishing all thoughts of future pleasures. She and Johnny
would never dance together ever again.

“Yes, I am, Jenny. Are you angry?”

“I was, but, no, angry isn’t the right word. I do
understand,” she said. She adored her aunt and her father and
realized that her constant mourning had put them through a
difficult year. How could she be so selfish? She was going to have
to figure something out that would please them while still allowing
her to distance herself from the young men her father believed
would come calling.

Her aunt pulled out the first of the two gowns, a
lovely, low-cut, pink high-waisted silk dress embroidered with
silver leaves. It was exquisite, and Jenny could not help but
murmur, “Ooooh … lovely.”

Encouraged, Beth drew out another gown of dark blue
velvet trimmed with ivory lace at the puff sleeves and heart-shaped
bodice. Also beautiful. Jenny sighed and got up to throw her arms
around her aunt. “You have the most wonderful taste in so many
things. Thank you, Aunt Beth.”

Her plump aunt visibly was relieved and said, “Oh,
this is beyond everything grand. I was so afraid you would take a
pet and hide in your room for days.”

“Oh, Auntie, have I been so odious? Shame on me,”
Jenny suddenly realized how much unhappiness her grieving had
caused her loved ones. “I shall try to be better.”

Beth hugged her and murmured softly, “Nonsense.” She
stood back and watched, her eyes alight.

“Were these two gowns your own creations, did you
design them?” Jenny asked, actually getting into the spirit of the
thing.

Her aunt laughed. “Oh, no—I simply had the good sense
to buy them when I saw them. When you try them on we may have to do
some alterations … but perhaps not.”

Jenny found herself gurgling with laughter, and this
startled her. She could not remember when it was she laughed last.
Where had that come from?

Her aunt hugged her tightly and then pulled back to
look at her. “Do you know, Jenny love, your green eyes are alive
today. Whatever happened to put such brightness in them, I cannot
tell, but I am so grateful for it.’

This startled Jenny. A silent question teased her
ever-honest brain:
What would Blue Eyes think if he saw you in
one of these gowns with your hair all clean and dressed?
And
then she felt herself blush as she reprimanded herself.
Jenny!

She told herself she was only interested in finding a
way to teach him a lesson, for a lesson was what he needed. What?
What was she thinking? She didn’t want ever to see him again. But
if she did, he would realize how ungentlemanly he had been because
she would … she would … what would she do?

“Which gown will you wear tonight, darling?” Beth
asked on a casual note, not looking directly at her niece.

Jenny turned, surprised out of her thoughts, and
paused with the sudden memory. Her father and aunt were having a
small soirée that evening. She had promised her father she would
attend. “Ah, yes, right then, please, tell me, which one shall I
wear?”

“Very well, tonight, the blue velvet. It is after
all, a simple dinner party really. You will look stunning tonight,
dearest. You must not feel guilty, for more than a year has passed,
and you know very well Johnny would not want you to bury yourself
for a day, let alone a lifetime.”

It was true. Mac hold told her that often enough, and
she knew her Johnny. He would have called her a widgeon, but she
also believed she just wasn’t ready. She said, however, “I know,
Auntie, honestly I do.”

Her aunt had never approved of the match to John of
Southwich. She had always said he was a boy, very certainly Jenny’s
best friend, but that they were really not well suited. She said
one day Jenny would need not the boy that Johnny would always be
but a man. Jenny had often thought about that and wondered just
what her aunt meant. She sighed and turned towards her window.

“I am certain you will be just fine,” her aunt
continued. “Just think, Jenny, soon we will be off to Brighton for
the Season. There will be rout parties, assemblies—and in no time,
you will forget all about … what you have been through.” As
soon as the words were out she bit her bottom lip.

Jenny saw that her aunt regretted the words and
reached over to touch her aunt’s arm. “Don’t feel you have to walk
on eggshells, Auntie. I understand. I totally do. I won’t forget
Johnny, because I don’t wish to, but I know what you are
saying.”

“You are a dear, dear girl, and I adore you. It is
the way of the Ashleys, you know, to pine over a lost love. Your
father is much the same, as am I. I know the thought of remarrying
after I lost my dear Stephen was unbearable, so you must not think
I don’t understand. The difference is—
you are twenty years
old
with your entire life ahead of you.”

“Yes, Auntie, I know,” she said softly, wanting to
cry. The future had been all planned out and easy. She liked easy.
She was comfortable with Johnny. They laughed over everything. Was
her aunt talking about passion? Her friends, Lavvy especially, used
to tell her that there was a difference between loving someone and
being in love, and that difference was the passion one felt when in
love.

She had never felt passion, but she, supposed that
was because she and Johnny were just meant. He had been her
childhood friend and she had never thought of anyone else as being
her husband. She sighed again and said, “But what is the point in
falling in love? What if I did fall in love, and he were to
die … I would have to go through this all over again. I
can’t.”

Beth patted her hand. “I understand, and we don’t
have to speak of such things now. Now, it is enough that you join
us tonight.”

“Who makes up the party tonight?” Jenny asked
curiously.

“Your friend Lavina and her parents will be here,”
Beth said and smiled to see her reaction.

“Lavvy, oh, that is too wonderful. I hadn’t realized
they were back from London.”

“Indeed, they have been home for days,” her aunt
returned.

“Oh, I hope she won’t be cross with me … I
haven’t even tried to get in touch with her, and she is my
dearest …”

Beth patted her hand. “You will do. Lavina
understands. Just ease into it all, my love.”

~
Two ~

SEVERAL HOURS LATER Jenny was once again looking at
herself in the mirror. She solemnly appraised herself.

Her chestnut hair was piled on top of her head,
though she’d allowed two very long cascading curls to slip out and
brush one shoulder. Her maid had dressed her hair and pulled out
long golden streaks to twirl lazily against her ears.

Her winged brows still needed no blacking. Her cheeks
looked flushed, and her eyes a bright shade of green looked back at
her. Was she supposed to do this? Go downstairs and laugh?
Was
she?
Was it disrespectful to his memory?

She wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel right, and yet, the
youth in her was calling for something she didn’t want to name.

The blue velvet fit to perfection, though the bodice
was lower cut than she liked. She sighed and turned away from the
mirror. She was only meeting and dining with friends. There should
be no guilt in that, no more than when she dined with her father
and aunt. She was only twenty, after all, and she
knew—understood—that she had to go on.

She had always been a scamp of a girl, rushing about
and filled with exuberance. Her loss had quieted her, but she was
still whole, wasn’t she? That girl was still inside her; she could
feel her scratching to get out.

She opened her door and stepped out of her room.
These were friends, and she should be with her friends.

All at once, her aunt was beside her, taking her hand
and exclaiming, “You beauty, you!”

She smiled tentatively, but her aunt was already
dragging her along and making her giggle, as she chattered
endlessly about nothing. They descended the steps of the wide
carpeted staircase, and she saw her father. She had to smile at
him, for he looked so obviously proud and happy. She hadn’t seen
that look on his face in so long. Her grieving had taken its toll
on him, she thought, and she said with an affectionate smile, “Why,
Squire Ashley, you look very handsome tonight.”

“Oh, my dear, my dear, you are stunning,” was his
reply.

There was no going back now. She walked demurely with
her father and aunt flanking her as they entered the drawing
room.

The room was well lit with tall tapers, showing to
advantage the unusual ceiling. It had been done in the Adam style
and was made of oval shapes filled with arabesques. Bright damask
hangings ornamented the windows, and the carpet, which was centered
on the rich oak flooring, had been specially woven to repeat the
main design of the ceiling.

The drawing room was filled with richly dressed men
and women, and though they did not glitter as they would in London,
there was no mistaking their noble heritage and the fact that they
were clothed in the height of fashion.

Jenny scanned the room and relaxed, for the company
was composed of people belonging to her father and aunt’s habitual
set and was a comfortable collection. She smiled and found that
everyone seemed bent on making her feel at ease. The least she
could do for them was be at ease.

She went through the cordial greetings and finally
came to her friend Lavina. They embraced, and Jenny said happily,
“Lavvy, look at you. How modish and grown up you are. How many
hearts did you collect in London?” And then as they both giggled,
she squeezed her hands and told her, “I am so very glad to see you
again.”

Patting her blonde curls and giving her friend an
arched look, Lavvy answered, “I am happy to report that I have
quite a list of hearts, and I mean to tell you about each and every
single one!”

They hugged again, and Jenny sighed with pleasure.
Lavvy was a year younger than she, but Jenny couldn’t remember a
day they hadn’t been close.

“Oh, but your gown is so lovely,” Jenny said, making
her friend twirl.

Lavina picked up the cream-colored muslin of her
skirt and said, “It is, I know, oh, but some of the gowns we had
made in London, Jenny, are exquisite, like the one you are
wearing—never say you got that one here?”