Her One True Love (2 page)

Jane raised her hand, halting her sister's embrace. “No, I mean it. I'm tired of waiting for him to long for me the way I've longed for him.” Her dreams of Matthew, of children and a home together, had one by one burst like popping bubbles in her heart. “I'm leaving.”

Monica blanched and dropped her outstretched arms. “What do you mean, you're leaving?”

Jane's heart lifted with the excitement of a new future, a new life far away from Matthew Cleaves and the life expected of her. “I'm leaving for Bath this weekend. I'm going to the house.”

“But you can't.”

“Why not? Haven't you been forever urging me to go to the city? To have some fun? To discover there's more to life than Marksville and the work it takes to run the estate and look after the tenants? Well, I'm ready, Monica. I'm ready to find out what I can do past caring for this village.” She smiled, excitement rippling through her. “I'm ready to start living my life. Like you once did. You had a life in the city, and when you returned, you fell in love and stayed. Maybe I'll go to Bath, fall in love, and stay
there
. It's my turn now . . . and entirely on my terms.”

“Are you intending to live alone?”

Jane frowned. “I'd like to take Jeannie with me. She deserves to see more than the village too. Please, can you spare her?”

Concern filled her sister's eyes. “Well, yes, I'd be happier with Jeannie being with you, but this seems so sudden. Have you really thought about what moving to the city will entail? What it will be like? Things are different in Bath. The people . . .” Monica sighed. “The people are selfish, Jane. They only want what's best for themselves.”

Jane lifted her shoulders. “Then I will discover that for myself. I want to work. I want to go out and do some good in the world. I looked after Mama for years before she died and I always did exactly as Papa bid me. Now they're gone. You and Thomas are running things so well. It's my turn now.”

Monica clasped Jane's hand and lifted her other hand to Jane's jaw. She stared deep into Jane's eyes. “And I applaud your independence. You know I'll support you, but I want you to be absolutely certain about this. When I was in Bath, I had friends at the theater, people to call on for help and at least maintain my reputation, if not entirely save it.”

“And I have friends in the city too.” She smiled and gently lifted Monica's hand from her jaw. Jane squeezed her sister's fingers as excitement gripped her. “We're not so different, you and I. I do not care for others' opinions and neither do you. I can always call on Adam and Laura, if need be.”

Monica's gaze softened as she cast her study over Jane's face. At last, her shoulders slumped and she smiled. “Fine. I can see your mind is made up.”

Jane grinned. “It is. This is what I want.”

“Then we will make it so.”

“Thank you.”

Jane slipped her hand in Monica's elbow and, together, they made their way home.

 

Matthew marched farther into the center of the village, his mind reeling from what he'd said and heard from Jane. Where was the woman who showed so much fervor for her home and village, yet equally as much empathy and sharing of pain for those less fortunate? She'd looked him up and down as though he were something she might tread upon in the fields.

Shaking his head, he continued along the path into the center of the village. He shouldn't waste a moment's thought on her disapproval or misunderstanding, yet her opinion inexplicably mattered. His heart might be closed to the possibility of sharing intimacies with a woman in the future, but it wasn't closed to the loss of friends as dear to him as Jane and Monica.

They'd been each other's acquaintances since childhood. If Jane had so much understanding for others, why had she openly rejected acknowledgment of his suffering?

Hating the self-pity as it churned in his stomach, Matthew smacked his palm against the door of the White Horse and stalked inside. Damn this new and perplexing sensation that Jane's rudeness had provoked in him. The woman had touched on a nerve. A nerve that sizzled and crackled in his veins until he wanted to chase after her and raise his voice at her for the first time.

But wasn't her summary of his egotism right? Wasn't her accuracy the reason she'd irritated him so? She'd been correct in her claim he'd been ignoring the problems of the village these past few weeks, but that was about to change. Only the night before, he had decided to throw himself into work as he'd promised himself he would the day Elizabeth walked out without as much as a backward glance.

“Well, well, Squire Cleaves, I'd like to say it's a surprise to see you here, but unfortunately, those words lost their luster a few weeks back.” Maggie, the buxom, no-nonsense barmaid the male population of Biddestone feared and revered in equal measure, raised a painted eyebrow. “The pleasure of seeing you so often inside these four walls is wearing thin.”

Riled up by Jane's obstinacy, Matthew glared. “You do know I could arrange for the rent on this place to be increased, don't you? Who's to say Bill would keep you behind this bar if that happened?”

Maggie smiled. “Bill would no sooner get rid of me than you would raise the rent. But it's good to see you haven't completely lost the fire in your belly . . .” Her brown eyes sparkled. “Even if it is directed in the wrong place. Now, what can I get you?”

Matthew scowled around the near-empty bar. “A pint of ale would be appreciated.”

“Coming right up.”

As Maggie pulled his pint from the pump, Matthew cast his gaze at the forlorn expressions on the faces of some of the field workers. A few months ago, they would've been working at this hour, not sitting in the tavern in the middle of the afternoon. Work was floundering. Jane's words of derision echoed in his mind once more. He had to pull himself together, had to focus on what he could do now and not what he should've done in the past.

His dreams of having a lasting marriage, children at his feet, and big family gatherings might have disintegrated, but that didn't mean he had to let the village he loved with his heart and soul fail too. He intended to work toward its prosperity the same way he had prior to Elizabeth's betrayal, sooner rather than later.

“One pint of ale.” Maggie put the tankard on the bar. “Anything else? Some words of wisdom from a learned friend? A line of questioning that will annoy you as much as anger you? I can offer you both if you haven't a preference.”

Matthew lifted the tankard and drank deeply, his gaze locked on Maggie's above the rim. He returned the drink to the bar and licked the froth from his upper lip. “Clearly you won't be extending me the courtesy of having my ale in peace, so say what you need to say, then maybe you'll leave me to brood alone.”

She leaned her arms on the bar, causing her ample breasts to bulge dangerously against the constraints of her dark green dress. “Brooding ain't going to get this village through this coming winter. You need to get back the spark you had before that wife of yours up and left. She ain't worth your thoughts. We all know the kind of man you are, Squire. A good man. A loyal man. A man who cares about his community. Now, what it's going to take to get you out of the doldrums and back on top of the heap where you belong?”

Matthew stared at her, wishing he could explain what it felt like to have his ego smashed to smithereens and watch the promise he'd made to his father disintegrate in the same moment. “You don't know what you're talking about. I am back. For your information—”

“I know plenty. You didn't love the woman, so what's the purpose in fretting over her actions?”

Matthew stilled. Had the absence of love in his marriage been obvious to everyone . . . including himself and Elizabeth?

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “Love has little worth when you're working to keep a village prosperous. What good is love to the men of Biddestone who are wondering if they'll have work next year? The squiress clearly didn't think of them when she was lying with another man. You, on the other hand, thought about them constantly.”

Matthew lifted his chin. “And I am again. I will be going in to the city this coming week. Mark my words, we will have orders and work very soon.”

“Glad to hear it.” She grasped his hand that lay on the bar, her eyes softening. “The villagers love the bones of you, but more than that, we need you to believe in Biddestone and us. The squiress might have gone, but you haven't. You need to get out there and find work for these men and a good, strong woman you can love. It's a lonely life without someone beside you to take care of your heart when things go bad.” Her eyes glinted with unshed tears. “Believe me, I know.”

Matthew's stomach twisted with regret that Maggie had yet to find the love her romantic heart had yearned for as long as he'd known her. He clenched his jaw as Jane seeped into his mind once more. She'd know what to say to comfort Maggie. She always knew how to care and love the people in the village whenever tensions ran high.

God, he'd relied on Jane time and again to soothe frayed nerves at meetings and social gatherings. She was an amazing woman . . .

He eased his hand from Maggie's and drained his ale as feelings he'd tamped down for years threatened to burst forth. He could not go there. He had chosen to marry Elizabeth, and that mistake was something he had to live with. He cleared his throat. “I will do something about the work, but love?” He shook his head. “That is far down on my list of priorities and will remain so for the foreseeable future.”

Maggie pushed up from the bar and fisted her hands on her hips. “I can read your every thought through those pretty blue eyes of yours, Squire. You can dwell on my ignorance, or you can take the wisdom I've collected from listening to what others have said on the other side of this bar for the last fifteen years. I know what I'm talking about. I've seen the same disappointment that lingers in your eyes a hundred times. I've seen countless good men chuck their lives out with the beer bucket over the loss of a woman. The trouble is, no one expected it of you.”

“I'm not throwing my life away.” He spoke slowly, quietly, tightening his grip on the handle of his tankard. “Do you think because I haven't been in the fields or in the city negotiating I haven't been working on plans? Prospects for this village? Do you really think that little of me?”

She lifted her shoulders. “How should I know what you've been doing while cooped up in that fancy house of yours? All I know—”

“You know nothing.” Matthew shook his head and drained his ale, before pushing away from the bar. He slammed the tankard on the bar and glared. “Just tell yourself and the rest of the village I don't plan on failing them any time soon. I'm working on our future just as I always have. Sooner or later, you'll all have the proof you seem to need.”

The sparkle in Maggie's eyes dimmed before flaring bright with anger. She opened her mouth to respond, but Matthew stalked toward the door, his adrenaline pumping and his heart beating fast. He yanked open the door and stormed outside, letting it slam shut behind him. He planted his hands on his hips and stared around the small central area of Biddestone, easily one of the most beautiful villages in the whole of Wiltshire, England.

From the houses with their cream-colored brick and slate-gray roofs, to the grass that served as the meeting place for summer fêtes and markets, the bonfire in November and the enormous fir tree at Christmastime, Biddestone was his home. He would not let this village suffer financially through his problems.

It was time he got back in the saddle.

The screech of children's laughter cut through the air. Matthew turned to look toward the pond. Several mothers watched three young boys as they pushed their wooden boats onto the water's surface, their cheeks reddened by the autumn breeze blowing its first warning of the coming winter.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. He might not have a boy of his own to play with and teach, but he had a village to care for. Damn Maggie and damn Jane. He'd prove them wrong . . . he'd prove everyone wrong. Matthew Cleaves might have been down awhile, but he certainly wasn't out.

S
uitably dressed for dinner, Jane smoothed out the skirt of her pale blue evening dress. Her stomach twisted and turned with excitement at the prospect of being in Bath in just two short days. With her decision made, she felt lighter and happier than she'd been in months. Nothing could possibly dampen her mood. Not even Monica demanding they wear formal attire at dinner and then dressing the needless notion up as some sort of farewell treat.

The whole charade was undoubtedly a ruse her sister thought necessary to test Jane's determination to leave Marksville. Clearly Monica hadn't guessed for just how long, or how deeply Jane had wanted to leave to work in Bath. It was a blessed relief that her sister wasn't aware of the hopeless dreams Jane had thought of over the years, dreams that had lain in the hope that one day she and Matthew might be working side by side, whilst raising a family of their own.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to God for Monica's ignorance. The shame of Matthew's obliviousness to Jane's feelings was enough to bear without having to endure Monica's sympathy too.

“I think that about does it, Miss Jane.”

Her maid's voice cut through Jane's contemplation and she opened her eyes to look at Jeannie, crouched at her feet and fussing with Jane's hem. She smiled. At least Monica had agreed for Jeannie to accompany her to Bath. More friends than mistress and maid, Jane intended for Jeannie's life to change too. “It's perfect. Thank you.” Jane smiled. “Did Miss Monica speak to you earlier about my plans?”

Her maid frowned. “No, miss.”

“Oh, then I can only assume she meant for me to share them with you myself.”

Concern clouded Jeannie's eyes as she pushed to her feet and clasped her hands in front of her, an expression of expectancy on her pretty features. Knowing Jeannie's tendency to fret, Jane inwardly scolded herself for teasing Jeannie so, even though the news she had to deliver would surely lead to her maid's forgiveness. “I am to leave for Bath in two days, with the possibility of living there for the foreseeable future.”

“I see.” Jeannie's cheeks colored and she lowered her head. “Then I wish you much happiness there, miss. I have heard a great many wonderful things about Bath, despite only spending time there in fits and starts.”

Jane bit back her smile. “Indeed. In fact, I am quite certain you are the person I should miss the most from Marksville.”

Jeannie lifted her chin and offered a strained smile. “Oh, I'm sure that's not true, miss. You'll not give me a second's thought once you're settled at Mr. Danes's . . . I mean, your house, and you have all those exciting balls and fancy eating places to visit.” Tears glazed Jeannie's eyes, despite her bright smile. “This will be good for you, Miss Jane. You have worked so hard these past years. First alone here with your poorly mama to care for, God rest her soul, and now with Miss Monica and Thomas married, you are forever working in the house or looking after young Master Thomas. It's time to have a while living like the beautiful, independent woman you are.”

“Hmm, maybe. It would be so much nicer to have a companion to keep me company, though. Don't you think?”

Jeannie's color deepened before she turned and walked across the room, her fingers busy as she tidied the sewing box on the dressing table. “I expect there will be plenty of ladies who would love the opportunity to accompany you, miss. You're so lovely and kind and funny. I'm certain—”

“Jeannie?” Jane's smile broke. “Wouldn't you like to be my companion?”

Her maid's hand stilled on the sewing box, and Jane's stomach quivered with suppressed laughter.

Slowly, Jeannie turned, her green eyes alive with excitement. “I couldn't.”

Jane grinned. “You absolutely could. I don't want anyone else with me but you.”

The young girl screeched and rushed forward, clasping Jane's hands. “Oh miss. Thank you. I won't let you down. I promise. Oh my goodness. I don't know what to say.”

Jane laughed. “You say, ‘But is two days enough time for us to pack, Miss Jane?'” Laughing, Jane freed her hands to embrace her dear friend, without whom she would never have gotten through the strain of looking after her ailing mama. “From today, you are no longer my maid, but my companion.” She pulled back and held Jeannie at arm's length. “You are to call me Jane from the moment we leave through Marksville's gates.”

“Oh miss. But—”

“I insist.” Jane's smile dissolved. “I want you there as my friend. I trust you and love you. This is a new adventure for us both.”

Jeannie smiled, a tear rolling over her cheek. “I'm so happy.”

Jane grinned. “Me too. Now come, I'd better go downstairs so I can see if I am right in my suspicions that this dinner is Miss Monica's last-ditch attempt to test my decision to leave.”

Giving Jeannie's hand a brief squeeze, Jane walked to the door. As she descended the stairs, voices drifted from the open drawing room door. Monica laughed and Thomas's deep, confident boom of laughter twinned with her sister's . . . followed by the gruff, muffled voice of another man.

Jane stilled at the bottom step.

Matthew.

She gripped the newel post at the bottom of the stairs as her previous happiness deflated and was replaced with trepidation. Had Monica invited Matthew to dinner as a hook to prevent her from leaving?

Anger simmered. How dare she do such a thing? Didn't she have the faith that her sister could forge a successful life alone? Jane pulled back her shoulders and inhaled. Well, she'd show Monica, in no uncertain terms, what she was capable of.

With her head held high, Jane walked into the drawing room, her skirts brushing the Oriental rug. The heavy, ruby drapes were drawn to the evening, and the fire glowed in the fireplace. The atmosphere was warm, welcoming, and everything she and Monica had strived to make it after the frostiness endured for years by their overbearing mother.

The only thing causing the tremor in Jane's legs was a certain absurdly handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed man, whose recent change in personality irritated her beyond reason.

Jane fought to keep her pleasant, unconcerned expression in place. She stepped farther into the room. Monica, Thomas, and Matthew sat in front of the fire, each turned away from her and oblivious to her presence.

Until Matthew turned, almost as though he sensed her.

His darkened gaze met hers and his eyes widened for an imperceptible moment before they cooled to barely acceptable politeness. He rose to his feet.

Monica's chatter ceased, and the room fell into expectant silence as she and Thomas followed Matthew's unwavering gaze.

Jane's nerves jangled as her heart dropped from its brief and cruel lift when she'd mistakenly imagined a flicker of admiration in Matthew's gaze. She forced her feet forward and joined the circle. “Good evening, everyone.” She smiled at Matthew. “It's a surprise to see you here. I didn't know you'd be joining us this evening.”

His gaze bore into hers, dropping to her revealed collarbone before he dipped his head. “I called by earlier to apologize for provoking such a passionate telling-off from you when we spoke this afternoon. After some much-needed self-analysis, I came to the conclusion your comments were substantiated.”

“You did?” Jane inwardly cursed the surprise in her voice. “I see.”

He glanced at her sister and offered a small smile. “Monica asked if I'd like to join you for dinner, and I accepted. I'm glad you're not perturbed by my presence.”

Jane's cheeks ached with the strain of her smile. The man's uppity tone and somber gaze retracted any apology from her, even if one had been at her lips. Where had the old Matthew gone? The man she'd loved with every beat of her foolish heart since she approached womanhood? This new, aloof man unnerved and even saddened her.

She nodded. “Apology accepted and you are more than welcome.”

He dipped his head a second time, his gaze unreadable. “Thank you.”

Their eyes remained locked.

“Well, then . . .” Thomas's voice echoed around the room. “Would you like to join us in a glass of wine before dinner, Jane?”

Jane blinked and dragged her gaze to her loving brother-in-law, her smile so less strained when trained on him rather than Matthew. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She joined Monica on the settee, all too aware of Matthew choosing to sit in the armchair barely two feet from her elbow.

She kept her concentration on Thomas's turned back.

“Jane?”

Briefly closing her eyes, Jane turned to face Monica. “Yes?”

Monica smiled, but her eyes glinted with warning. “Before you came to join us, I was about to tell Matthew of your news.”

“My news?” Jane's cheeks warmed.

“Of your leaving.”

Jane struggled to keep her smile in place. “My leaving is hardly cause to broadcast—”

“You're leaving?” Matthew's clipped question split the room like the crack of a whip.

Jane flinched and faced him, her spine rigid. “Yes, I'm going to the house in Bath.”

“For how long?” His jaw tightened and his eyes blazed with a passion that was almost possessive. “And why?”

She stared.
Why should you care?
She lifted her chin. “Because that is what I wish to do. I want to escape the village for a while. It's about time I decided what to do with my life. I attended to Mama for so many years, I feel as if I've achieved little else than trying to keep her happy.”

He took a mouthful of wine. “That's nonsense.”

She glanced at Monica beside her and then at Thomas, who stood at the drinks cabinet. They stared at Matthew with mixed expressions of surprise and amused interest.

Irritation battled for release as Jane turned to Matthew. “Is it? Why? You have your work out of the house, do you not?” She fought to maintain her composure by curling her fingers into the satin fabric of her skirts. “Well, I want mine too. I want to do more. I want to help people, and whether you approve or not, I believe my time would be better spent in the city, than here. There is little I can do to help the villagers as far as farming is concerned, but that doesn't mean my help won't be welcomed in Bath. There are women and children there who struggle every day. I want to help them, not stay in a place where I'm beginning to believe the residents will never look at me as anything else other than Noel Danes's daughter.”

His gaze lingered over every inch of her face until Jane thought she would buckle under its power and be forced to look away. Thankfully, Thomas came to stand beside her with her wine, providing Jane the perfect excuse to look away, rather than suffer the humiliating loss of eye-to-eye battle with Matthew.

“Thank you, Thomas.” She took the wineglass, triumphant that its deep, red contents didn't as much as quiver in their delicate vessel.

“Dinner is served.” Mrs. Seton curtsied at the drawing room door.

Jane took a fortifying sip of her drink and rose. Matthew stood at her side and offered his arm. Swallowing hard, Jane slipped her hand through his elbow and together, they followed Monica and Thomas into the hallway.

Round one to her. Now all she needed to do was deflect his every jab throughout an undoubtedly trying dinner
.

 

The clock above the Danes's dining room mantel struck ten, and Matthew took it as a sign to leave. He drained his glass and cleared his throat. “Well, I really need to head home. Monica, thank you for inviting me for such a delicious meal. I will find Mrs. Seton before I leave and give her my compliments.”

Monica beamed, her smile as strained as the entire dinner had been. “We ladies completely understand if it's time for port and cigars, you know, Matthew.” She glanced at Jane. “We might not always conform, but Jane and I have our moments of propriety. Maybe you'd like to stay here with Thomas? Jane and I will retire to the drawing room. It would be such a shame to have you leave so early.”

Matthew stared at Jane's bowed head, urging her to look at him—something she had barely managed all evening. When it appeared her manners toward him were as vanished as her conversation, he faced Thomas, as his host rose and strode the length of the table toward Matthew, his hand outstretched.

“What do you say? Shall we grab my wife's rare agreement to release me? I could take some port.”

“I'm still here, you know, Thomas,” Monica admonished, but the twinkle in her eyes clearly gave away her deep love for her husband. “I'll cut my offer short if you continue to give Matthew the impression I keep you like a dog on a leash.”

Matthew tried and failed to smile when Jane continued to stare resolutely at her plate, despite her sister and brother-in-law's attempts to lighten the awkwardness permeating the room like an ash cloud.

He shook his head and looked at Thomas and Monica in turn. “Maybe another time. I have some matters to attend to that I wish to get done this evening. Again, I thank you for such a splendid meal. Will Mrs. Seton be in the kitchen?”

Thomas clasped his hand, the other at Matthew's shoulder. “She will, yes. It's been too long since we've seen you. Don't make your absence at Marksville a habit. Tonight has been good. We've enjoyed having you here.”

As much as Matthew longed to match the enthusiasm in Thomas's words and actions, all he really wanted was a few moments alone with Jane. Her attitude toward him had bypassed chilly and veered, inexplicably, toward downright frozen. Forcing a tight smile, Matthew shook Thomas's hand. “Well, I will endeavor to come by more often. I have been inexcusably busy over the last few weeks, and socializing has been far down the agenda, I'm afraid.”