Just Jane (19 page)

Simon shrugged. “That's hard to say.”

“Long enough to come calling, I hope. Jane would be delighted to see her old schoolmaster again, don't you agree, darling?” Clarissa made no reply.

“You're so pale, my dear.” Robert turned to Simon. “I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us, Cordwyn. My wife tires so easily. But do come to tea, my good fellow. Tomorrow at three? No argument now, we'll be expecting you. Shall we go, Clarissa?”

She stood silent for a moment longer, giving Simon a look as cold as a winter midnight. Then, as if sleepwalking, she left the room.

“Till tomorrow then, Cordwyn.” Robert flashed another smile and followed Clarissa out.

When the landlady returned a few minutes later, she found her tenant slumped over the table, head in hands.

“Oh, dear! It wasn't the right lady after all, was it, sir?”

“No, Mrs. James,” he muttered. “It most certainly was not!”

 

That evening Clarissa retired early, only to lie sleepless in bed. At last Robert appeared at her bedside like a shadow in the gloom around her.

“Headache any better?” he asked.

“A little, thank you,” she answered weakly.

“Try to get some sleep. I'm sure you need it.”

“How did you know I was there, Robert?”

“Sam Blaine was driving me home when I saw you heading into that low-class district. I got out of the carriage at the next corner and followed you. I haven't yet decided whether I'm glad or sorry that I did.”

“That was quite a performance you gave, inviting Simon to tea. You don't really expect him to come, do you?”

“No, but I can play false games as well as anyone.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough. Evidently, having invaded my domain once before, that scoundrel thinks he can return and invade it yet again.”

“Ah, yes, your domain. I belong to you. Jane belongs to you. Rosewall belongs to you—everything belongs to you. Perhaps it's not so bad if a man learns his domain can be subject to invasion.”

“Good night, Clarissa.” Robert turned and started to leave the room.

“Robert, wait.” She sat up in bed. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't reproach you. But you've hardly said a word to me since we left that wretched place.”

“I really have nothing to say, my dear.”

“Nothing at all? Please, Robert! I admit there's a stain on my past, and I'm sorry you had to learn of it. But it all happened long ago. I'm married to
you
, and if you'll forgive and forget, I'll go on being as dutiful a wife as ever a man could—Robert! Hear me out!”

He looked back from the doorway. “I don't want a
dutiful
wife,” he said. “I want a
loving
one.” He closed the door softly behind him, leaving her staring into the darkness.

 

Jane also lay awake that night. She was thinking of her meeting with Hugh a few days before, and wondering about Simon. Would he dare return to Charlestown? Her heart hoped desperately that he would. Her head hoped even more desperately that he would not. Be patient, Hugh had said. But it was hard to be patient when she had no way of knowing what was going on.

She thought about Robert and Clarissa. They had barely spoken to each other or to her that evening, and Clarissa had retired upstairs immediately after supper. It was quite unlike them. They must have quarreled about something, Jane decided. Well, never mind. She settled down to sleep. Whatever was wrong between them would no doubt be cleared up by morning.

 

Captain Fleming, working late at the Board of Police, was surprised to receive a visitor close to ten o'clock. “Good evening, sir. What brings you out at this hour? From the look on your face, it must be something serious.”

Robert took a chair. “I do apologize for interrupting you here, Richard. But if you can spare a few minutes, I think you'll find what I have to say most worthwhile . . .”

Jane was shocked and dismayed when Robert announced early the next morning that they would return to Rosewall that very day. “Today? Why so suddenly?”

“We usually go at this time of year, and the incessant raids out there require my immediate attention. Besides,” he added, glancing darkly at Clarissa, “I've noticed that city life is unhealthy for well-bred ladies. The country is more beneficial, and we'll stay there from now on.”

Jane shot a puzzled look at Clarissa but saw only a blank expression. “What do you mean, Uncle Robert?”

“No more questions,” he snapped. “I'm going now to arrange for Nellie to join Sam Blaine's household. They have need of an extra maid. Meanwhile, you two pack up. We leave as soon as I get back.”

He strode out, leaving Jane again searching Clarissa's face for explanation. “Something's happened, Aunt Clarissa. I know it has. Tell me!”

Clarissa smiled faintly. “Never mind, dear. We must obey quietly. Robert is king, and we are his subjects.”

 

By late evening the family was again settled in at Rosewall. Robert ordered a bed made up for him in his study, far from the large bedroom he normally shared with Clarissa.

“I'm not sleeping well, you see,” he told Cuba. “My tossing and turning disturb Mrs. Prentice.”

Cuba was not one to question this departure from custom, and Clarissa clearly already knew its reasons. The mysterious tension filled the great house. Even more disturbing to Jane was the thought that a certain gentleman might come to Charlestown, and she would be thirty miles away at Rosewall.

Robert was off the following morning to report to Louis Lambert about rumors of General Cornwallis's planned sweep through North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, and on to New York. Most Loyalists saw the British general as a conquering hero, but Robert Prentice scorned him. He regaled Jane and Clarissa about it later, as they worked on their embroidery in the parlor.

“That fool Cornwallis thinks he can crush all opposition before him. But the rebels have popped up like weasels, thumbing their noses after him at every crossroads between here and Camden. He just keeps racing north after the Continentals' General Greene, never noticing a thing!”

His mood hasn't improved
, Jane thought,
but at least he's talking again
. Clarissa paid no attention to him.

Robert talked on. “Luckily, Brandon's cavalry unit is doing a fine job, I hear. Stalwart Loyalists like them will win this thing in the end, not vain military peacocks like Cornwallis. He covers himself in glory, leaving citizens like us to fend for ourselves! Very well. Louis Lambert and I have decided to form our own militia. Forty or fifty good men, gathered from miles around. Never fear, we'll defend ourselves!”

He paused for breath. “Now, did any messages arrive for me today?”

Clarissa finally glanced up from her work. “From whom, dear? King George, your fellow monarch across the sea?”

He glared at her stonily.

“No, Uncle, there have been no messages,” Jane said.

“If one comes, summon me immediately.” He stomped angrily upstairs.

 

But when the gate bell jangled half an hour later, Robert himself rushed out to answer it. Jane, watching from the parlor, saw him return shortly and hurry back upstairs. Burning with curiosity, she followed him and looked in at the open door of his study. He stood absorbed in a letter.

“Not bad news, I hope, Uncle Robert?”

Annoyed to see her standing there, he pocketed the letter. “Military matters,” he growled. “They don't concern you.” Jane's tolerance for being dismissed in this way was wearing thin. “Am I too simpleminded to understand military matters?” she asked sharply.

His scowl deepened. “I said, they don't concern you!”

“It seems, Uncle, that you think nothing does.”

“I'm in no mood for your insolence, girl!”

This time his anger only made her bolder. “Indeed, you seem determined to keep me ignorant of all things,” she continued. “Well, sir, you cannot. I have learned much, and continue to do so, despite your efforts to prevent it!”

Before he could reply, she rushed to her room and slammed the door behind her.
How long can this go on?
she seethed.
Sooner or later something's going to crack
.

That same night, something did.

 

Too upset to think of sleeping, Jane decided to write a letter to Harriet. She often did this, though it was not always possible to send the letter immediately. She had just begun when she heard Robert's ill-tempered growl and Clarissa's shrill, agitated voice floating up from downstairs.
Quarreling again
, Jane thought—but at least now she might find out why. She tiptoed to the top of the stairs and listened silently. The quarrel was becoming a shouting match. And what she heard took her breath away.

“How could you!” Clarissa cried. “Persecuting an innocent man—is that how you punish me?”

“Innocent, my eye! He's the worst kind of criminal, smuggling for the rebels!”

“You don't know that!”

“Don't I? Fleming lays out all the evidence in his letter. They're operating in the Carolinas, the ringleader's known to be from Pennsylvania, he's called The Schoolmaster, and they found a letter from his sister that showed his first name is Simon. Then who should suddenly appear in Charlestown? None other than Schoolmaster Simon Cordwyn! Not only meaning to wreck my family but to destroy my very—”

“What's happened to Mr. Cordwyn?” Jane cried out, suddenly appearing in the doorway. “When was he in Charlestown?”

“Tell her, Robert.” Clarissa turned away. “She'll hear soon enough.”

Turning to Jane, Robert spoke with grim deliberation. “Unfortunately, your former teacher has been running a vast smuggling network for the rebels. However, he's now in jail on a charge of treason.”

“And all thanks to your heroic uncle,” Clarissa added bitterly. “He told Captain Fleming where to find him.”

“Thanks to
me?
” Robert snorted. “Do give yourself a little credit!”

“Yes, I'm to blame, too. Simon sent you a note, dear. I intercepted it and met him myself. Robert followed me and discovered him.”

Jane's burning rage burst into words. “I don't know which of you I despise more! You scheming meddler, Aunt Clarissa! What right did you have to steal a letter? And you, Uncle Robert! You've always hated Mr. Cordwyn! How you must have enjoyed betraying him! You're a
monster
!”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” he shouted.

“I should have dared long ago! I renounce you, sir! I renounce you both. You're no kin of mine!”

“Jane, I will not tolerate this kind of—”

“I will never speak to either of you again as long as I live!” Wild-eyed with fury, Jane flew back upstairs.

Stunned, Robert turned to Clarissa. “Has she taken leave of her senses? That scoundrel was after her, we know that. Could she have
wanted
him to be?”

Clarissa smiled calmly. “It's perfectly clear, Robert. She's in love with him. Probably has been since she first met him at Arthur's, years ago.”

“And you mean to say she's nursed those feelings all this time? Why have I never seen it?”

“Because, like me, you have been a blind fool. Good night.” With serene dignity, Clarissa left the room.

Robert stood staring around a cold, lifeless room meant to contain warmth and laughter. “Rosewall,” he sighed. “Soon you'll be all I have left.”

 

Nesded against the great stone wall near the front gate was the small cabin shared by Cuba and Omar. Omar's duties as gatekeeper were among his most important. Luckily for his master, he had a catlike ability to snap awake at the slightest noise—a talent that had foiled more than one rebel raid. That midnight, soft footsteps outside brought him instantly to attention.

In the dim moonlight, Jane was pulling at the gate's heavy bolt when Omar loomed up behind her.

“What you doing, miss?” His tone was gruff.

Startled, Jane gasped, but then answered firmly. “I'm going to the city.”

“In the night? No, no, there be danger out there. Bad mens, wild animals. You get lost, fall down, die. You acting crazy, miss!”

“Maybe so, but I'm going anyway. I won't stay here any longer.” She gave Omar a curious look. “Haven't you ever thought of running away? You and Cuba are both strong. You could do it. Go, Omar. Take Cuba and run! Why should you be the slave of someone who's no better a man than you?”

With a solemn shake of his head, Omar gave her a simple reply. “No, miss. Omar not run. Cuba won't run, and Omar not run without her.”

Cuba had come out to investigate. “Miss Jane! What in the world—?”

“Young miss, she running away to Charlestown,” Omar said.

“Lordy, child! Why?”

“I can't explain now,” Jane said. “But if you are my friends, and I think you are, you won't try to stop me.”

The two servants looked at each other and by some mysterious form of communication reached silent agreement.

“We not stop you, miss,” Omar said. “But you not go by yourself. Omar get a horse, go with you, come back tomorrow.”

Cuba nodded approval. “A good plan.” To Jane she said, “I'll tell Master we found you gone in the morning, and Omar went to look for you.”

It was settled. Omar pulled back the bolt and swung the gate open.

“Get back as soon as you can,” Cuba told him. And when Jane tried to express her thanks to both, Cuba stopped her. “Never mind that, child. Go along now. No use standin' here talkin' 'bout it all night.”

A moment later, Cuba silently bolted the gate behind them. She sniffed the air. There would be rain soon. A wild creature cried in the swamp to the north. Cuba hugged herself against the chill and hurried back inside.