Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed (29 page)

She wondered what David had done about Sophie and Lord Randal. Should she go to find her friend? The effort was beyond her and David had said everything was in order. She would have to persuade him to let them marry. She wondered what had been going through Randal’s mind as he decided to make the shot. Perhaps he had had no choice. Even she had been able to see that it needed only a little more of the maniac’s strength to bend Sophie’s slender neck further than any neck was meant to go.

The euphoria was slipping away. Jane jumped up and began to pace the room. She was shocked, when she glanced into the mirror, to see a stranger looking back. She had forgotten her disguise. She had taken off her mask after the shooting. Now she dragged the lined filigree from her hair and worked and teased at the coiled braids until her hair was hanging heavily around her. Then, using a napkin from a drawer and the cooled water from the tea tray, she scrubbed at the cosmetics on her face. At last, Jane Sandiford looked back at her. When the door opened, she turned to greet her love. He seemed to stop breathing.

“I love you,” she said softly across the room.

“As I do you,” he replied. “But I am not sure I should touch you, I need you so.”

Joyful awareness of her power surged within her and, unafraid, she walked slowly forward and stood before him. She raised her hands to his face and then gradually stretched on tiptoe, teasing out the moment, to taste his lips. He crushed her to him. Their mouths and bodies seemed to be seeking ever closer union when, suddenly, he stopped and held her away with rigid arms.

“No,” he said, breathing hard but smiling. “I will not be seduced by you, Jane, not here, not now. Save your tricks till we are wed.”

After a moment Jane did not oppose him. There was an aching sweetness in this postponement of delight.

He pushed her gently into a chair and finger-combed her tangled hair, then divided it in two and began to braid.

“What are you doing?” she asked, mischievously trying to twist her head to kiss his fingers.

“I am confining your hair so that it cannot bewitch me.”

“Do you know how to plait?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

“It is done to horses’ manes, you know.”

She sat still under his ministrations. Tiny shivers went through her at the movements of his fingers in her hair and their brushing at her nape.

“You never asked about my golden flowers,” she said. “I suppose you have fulfilled your part of the bargain.”

“I no longer feel any jealousy,” he replied. “If I wonder who gave them to you it is only because I admire his taste. They are exquisite.”

“
Merci du compliment, Monsieur
!
”
she said, glancing up at him with a grin. “I purchased them for myself.”

That necessitated a kiss, but they made it a gentle one. Their eyes kept touch long after their lips had parted. Then, he gently turned her head and continued his work on her hair. At last he finished and laid the two fat braids on her shoulders.

“There,” he said. “Now you are tamed.” He saw the glint in her eye and, laughing, added, “. . . if I get you into a public place very quickly. I think it is time to go and find Maria.”

 

That lady was delighted to have a new audience for her wailing account of the horrible happenings, and Jane and David were suitably horrified and amazed, while behind her back they exchanged small smiles. It was obvious that Lady Harroving, despite her supposed anguish, could not believe her luck that Sir Edwin had chosen to enliven
her
ball with his scandalous demise.

After Jane’s love had left, she went to her bed. She first looked in on Sophie but found her tucked under the covers like a child, fast asleep. Jane smiled when she saw, on her friend’s pillow, a pair of doves in flight, the ones which had ornamented Lord Randal’s headdress. Perhaps something good was to come out of this horrible affair after all.

EPILOGUE

T
HE WEDDING DAY dawned in perfection on Carne Abbey. The sun burned away wisps of mist from the river. Nature was at its peak. Even the austere stone house could not remain bleak in the midst of such midsummer glory. Nor had it been able to resist the advent of Lady Sophie, who had decided to flee town and its pressures to help Jane survive her return home.

This was a Sophie as sparkling as ever, yet deepened by her experiences and by the fruition of her love. Every day she and Jane wrote to their fiancés, and every day they received notes, usually accompanied by gifts. Even the fact that Lord Wraybourne had insisted Sophie and Randal wait until the autumn for their wedding did nothing to quench her spirit. She floated about Carne, singing, flinging back draperies, and arranging flowers.

It was not at all clear what Lady Sandiford felt about all this. Her eyes noted every change, yet she said nothing. Jane concluded that her mother had decided to live with what must be only a temporary aberration.

The basic arrangements for the wedding had been made. Sophie now began to embellish them with complicity, Jane was amazed to find, from her father, who gave Sophie permission to order what she wished. The cook was delighted to elaborate upon the wedding breakfast. She was even more delighted to be told to prepare a special feast for the servants later in the day. A considerable quantity of flowers, ribbons, and garlands was ordered from Cheltenham for the decoration of the church, and musicians were hired for the Abbey and the village, where the tenants would feast in the couple’s honour.

Jane and Mrs. Hawley watched in amazement. The years which had conditioned them to expect the place to be gloomy had no power over Sophie. As a result, the gloom ceased to exist. Occasionally, one could even hear a servant singing at her work.

“I wonder if Carne will ever be quite the same again?” said Mrs. Hawley as they checked off lists of provisions for the house guests.

“I should think it will revert,” replied Jane, “like a cleared bit of ground is soon retaken by the forest.”

“Well, I will not be here to see it,” said Mrs. Hawley cheerfully. “These last weeks when you have been in Town have been unutterably dull, Jane.”

“I wish you had been with me,” said Jane, and her eyes twinkled. “Well, perhaps not, for you would have stopped me doing a great many things and I think, however silly they seem in retrospect, I had to do them to arrive where I am now.”

“Someday,” said the governess, “you must tell me what you have been about—if you think my poor nerves can take the strain. The change in you in a few short weeks is amazing.”

They laughed and Jane asked whether Mrs. Hawley had found a new position.

“Well, I have decided, for the moment, not to seek another post. I have a small pension from my husband, you know, and your parents, whatever else one may say about them, have paid me well. My brother works for Forsham’s Bank in London, and he has invested the greater part for me these last twelve years. I have enough to live on. It only remains to see whether I can bear the idleness.”

“Where will you live? In London?”

“I think so, near my brother.”

“Then I hope you will come and visit me in Town but also come and stay with us at Stenby.”

“I do not think that would be proper,” said the governess gently.

“Beth, you are my friend. I know how much I owe you. Believe me, David will have no objection. He has spoken admiringly of you a number of times.”

“If your husband is pleased to invite me, then I will be delighted to visit you,” said the governess happily. Jane was already searching her mind for a gentleman suitable for her friend.

* * *

Jane awoke on her wedding morning and reflected on the change in her life in a few short months. Tonight, the change would be complete. She still had no clear understanding of the secrets of the marriage bed but on an instinctive level, she was aware. She had thought for a moment of asking Mrs. Hawley for advice but decided against it. David would understand. Before she slept tonight, she would be his wife in every way.

In no time at all her room was invaded by Prudence Hawkins, Sophie, and Beth. Jane bathed and had her hair dressed in an austere coronet. Her wedding dress was beautifully cut white silk, without ornamentation except for embroidered silver flowers around the hem. The same silver flowers decorated the edge of a silk gauze veil. White kid slippers and gloves completed her toilette, and she carried a pearl-bound prayer book, a gift from her mother. Jane took a moment to thank Sophie for her support.

“I dread to think what today would be like without your efforts.”

“It would still be your wedding day, Jane,” Sophie replied with a warm smile.

“Yes, nothing could spoil that. I hope to help make your wedding day as perfect.”

“How could it not be?” said Sophie simply. “I will be marrying Randal. He should be here soon, with David.”

Jane was suddenly aware that Sophie was strung tight with anticipation and felt the same vibration in herself, waiting for a footstep, a voice, a presence. They would neither be satisfied, for their lovers would wait at the church. Still, the knowledge that they were near was in Jane’s blood and her friend’s . . . like the sweet, brandied tea had been.

When it was nearly time for the party to go to the church, Lady Sandiford entered the room and dismissed the others. She had dressed for the occasion in a rich, blue silk and looked very much unlike her normal self. She was still unsmiling, however.

“You look very beautiful, Jane,” she said after consideration. It was more an adjudication than a compliment. There was silence while austere mother and stately daughter considered each other. “I do not believe you are unhappy with your lot, Jane.”

“No, Mama. I am not unhappy.”

Lady Sandiford gave a little nod. “I am mother enough to be glad of that,” she said. “I will not give you any advice about the marriage bed. I judge Lord Wraybourne to be a man who handles himself with care.”

With no further word she turned away, leaving Jane little the wiser about the woman who had given her life.

 

Jane walked down the aisle of the village church. Lord Wraybourne stood before her at the altar. It was a week since they had seen each other, and neither could suppress a spontaneous smile. Lady Wraybourne, a gaunt and sad-eyed woman, was seen to dab her eyes.

When the ceremony was over, Lord Wraybourne lifted the veil and touched Jane’s lips with the briefest of kisses. The look in his eyes went much farther. They moved through the celebrations that followed, full of anticipation, their attention always on their friends and relatives while little touches and stolen glances made promises for the night.

Jane saw Randal and Sophie float in each other’s orbit as if strings connected them. Less the focus of everyone’s eyes, they could be more together. Jane could sense how difficult the waiting was for them.

Sophie, as bridesmaid, came to help Jane change into a travelling dress scarcely more practical than her wedding gown, being of buttercup-yellow silk with deep ruch ing around the hem. An enormous high-poke bonnet was trimmed to match.

As the two friends returned downstairs Sophie whispered, “I wish I were you.”

“But I thought it was Randal you loved,” teased Jane.

“Idiot!” laughed her friend. “I’m tempted to slip into his bed tonight.”

“Will you?” asked Jane, worried.

“No,” sighed Sophie. “He’d probably beat me. He has become dreadfully
righteous
.”

Jane smiled. “Love does the most amazing things. Only see how it has tamed you.”

“How tedious that would be. I have my work cut out to persuade Randal not to give up his wish to buy a commission. I’m sure if I apply myself I can marry off stuffy Chelmly, and then the duke can have no objection.”

“Would you want to follow the drum?”

“I wouldn’t mind. I don’t want him hurt, of course. But I want him happy more.”

Sharing an understanding of the pleasures and pains of love, they embraced once more before Jane climbed into the handsome new travelling chariot with her husband.

“It is a pity you had to take off your wedding dress,” he said. “I think you looked more beautiful in that than I could ever have imagined.”

“Am I so ugly now?” she teased.

“You’ll do,” he said, but his eyes said more.

“Are you not going to kiss me?” she asked, leaning towards him.

“In that bonnet?” he declared with mock horror. “Anyway, we do not have far to go.”

“I can take it off,” she said, raising her hands to the ribbons. “Where are we headed?”

He stayed her hands. “I have borrowed Randal’s estate at Fairmeadows. It is not very far away. Let us wait a little longer.”

They rode for an hour, chatting as if they were an old married couple, never touching except with eyes and thoughts. Jane felt every nerve ending tingling in anticipation.

When the chariot finally turned between curlicued wrought-iron gates, Jane saw that Fairmeadows was not a large house, but was a charming Jacobean manor built of soft golden brick covered in places with climbing roses that looked to be as old as the house itself. The cottage-style gardens were full of flowers and humming insects.

The couple was welcomed by the small staff, declined the offered food, and was soon in their chamber. Jane looked around at the comfortable furniture, old and well-polished, and breathed in the mixed perfume of the pinks in a vase by the window and the lavender in which the bedding had been stored.

“This is a beautiful house,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed, leaning against the door and studying her with loving eyes. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought you here. Stenby is going to seem a barbaric pile after this.”

She turned to smile at him. At the look in his eyes, soft color crept into her cheeks. “A cave would be heaven with you, David.”