Never a Mistress, No Longer a Maid (7 page)

CHAPTER SIX

An insufferable evening had yielded to a sleepless night
spent in contemplation of a certain lady surgeon.  The morning had led to
luncheon with Madeline and her friends at an inn.  And that had resulted in Ned
excusing himself to have a word with one of the footmen, but which was really
just an excuse to get away.  As he walked the streets of the tiny village, he
wondered how long he could remain out of doors before his absence would be
noted.  He’d tried speaking with Lord Barrington in an effort to dissolve the
understanding, but he’d no sooner gotten the words “Unfortunately, we have a
serious matter to discuss” out of his mouth, than the man had invented an
excuse to leave the room immediately and had been making himself scarce ever
since.   

Ned had been unable to make his sentiments known to Miss
Merriman because the very nature of the conversation required some degree of
privacy and every time they were alone he feared for his virtue.  The chit
didn’t want to take no as an answer to anything.

At the very least, he needed an excuse to remove himself
from the manor and take lodgings at the inn.  It wasn’t Marston Vale he wanted
to leave.  It was just the Barrington Manor portion of it.

“Ned!”

He turned to see who was calling him.

“Over here!”

Ned turned to see Vi, barefoot again, sitting on the grass
in the village green, sketching on a pad.  He walked toward her, wondering if
anyone was looking out for the girl.

“I’m drawing a picture.”

“May I see?”

“Absolutely not.”

Ned chuckled at the girl’s indignation.  “Why would you tell
me you’re drawing a picture if you won’t let me see it?”

“Why would you want to see a picture that isn’t done?”

“May I see it when it’s finished?”

She took a moment to consider.  “Maybe.”

“Why maybe?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the inn with your friends?”

“How did you know I was at the inn?”

“I pay attention.  I saw you and
Miss Merriman
…” Vi
said the name as if it were the moniker of a great villain in a melodrama.  Ned
half expected the girl to follow it up with a resounding hiss. “…and the others
go into the inn.  Then I saw you come out and wander around.”

“Why don’t you like Miss Merriman?”

“Why do you like her?”

“Who says I do?”

“Are you Edward the duke’s brother?”

“How did you know that?”

“I’m not a baby.  Everyone’s talking about you and how
you’re going to marry
Miss Merriman
.  So you must like her at least a
little.”

“You can’t always believe what you hear.”

“So you’re not going to marry her.  Good!”

The child was right, but it wouldn’t exactly be good form to
announce to a little girl that he wasn’t going to marry
Miss Merriman
before telling the woman herself.

“Where’s your mama?”

“In the store.  I was supposed to wait by the carriage.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m sketching.”

“Violet!  I told you to wait by the carriage!”

A woman across the lane was calling for Vi.  By the sound of
her voice, she was the same woman who’d come looking for the girl in the
woods.  She seemed a bit old to have a daughter so young, but maybe she’d
simply had a hard life.  Adversity aged a person, which was one reason Ned
didn’t want to marry where he didn’t love.

“Bye!”

The girl curtsied, then ran off behind her mother. 

Ned realized he’d wasted as much time as he could possibly
get away with.  It was time to go back to the inn.  He turned, only to run
directly into Jane.

She stumbled, falling into his arms.  He held her there just
a moment longer than absolutely necessary and was rewarded with a shiver that
seemed to run from her silky hair down to her beautiful feet, even if they were
encased in half-boots that had seen better days.  She was wearing a brown gown
today.  The color was slightly better on her than the grey, but the material was
just as threadbare.  However, shabby gown or not, she still sent a healthy shot
of lust through him.  And the full-body contact had made him instantly hard.

“What brings you to town?” he asked.  “More lessons with the
children?  Or snipping hair from unsuspecting horses?”

She smiled in spite of herself.  “Just some shopping.”

“To stock up on some more Scots whiskey?  Or do you
manufacture your own, an enterprise I suspect would be much better paying than
surgery?”

He was teasing her again.  No one else teased her.  She allowed
herself a moment to enjoy the feeling before she grew nervous thinking about
her nearby gig, loaded with supplies and the daughter he knew nothing about.

Jane knew she should get away from him as quickly as
possible, but it was hard to focus on anything but his lips and the way her
body was still humming from their brief contact.  She was just about to take
her leave, when they were hailed by a familiar voice. 

“Lord Edward, we wondered where you’d gone,” said Madeleine,
as she and her friends approached.  She spoke to Edward, but glared venomously
at Jane.  “We thought you’d been overrun by urchins.”

“Nothing so adventurous, I assure you,” said Ned.  “However,
poor Miss Wetherby cannot claim to be similarly unscathed.  She had the
misfortune of being the victim of an absent-minded charging bull.  I,
unfortunately, was the bull.”

“Nonsense,” said Madeleine.  “I’m sure you could never be
anything other than the epitome of grace.  And I’m sure poor Jane has had worse
tumbles.”

Ned narrowed his eyes at the chit.  Could she know about his
previous relationship with Jane?

“I say,” said Rutherford, raking Jane with his eyes.  “Is
anyone going to introduce me?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” said Madeleine.  “Mr.
Colin Rutherford, may I present Jane Wetherby.  Jane this is Mr. Rutherford,
nephew to a marquis.”

“Our Jane here also has illustrious relatives,” said Wills
Overton.  “Her grandfather is the Earl of Huntington.”

Ned couldn’t hide his surprise.  Rutherford didn’t even
bother to try.  “It is my esteemed pleasure to meet you,” he said, taking the
hand which was not proffered, before bringing it to his lips.  Lips that Ned
would like to smash into the dandy’s teeth.  “Why have I never had the pleasure
of seeing you in London?”

“Jane retired to the country shortly after her debut year,”
supplied Madeleine.  “The reason escapes me.  For now.”  The sickly sweet smile
that accompanied the words sent a clear message to Jane. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed at home,” said Jane.

“Will you be joining us for dinner tomorrow?” asked
Rutherford.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said Madeleine
quickly.  “Mama is most particular about her dinners and the invitations have
already been issued.  And speaking of Mama, she will be quite worried if we
don’t return soon.”

“But surely she cannot be worried for your safety with all
of us to protect you,” said Rutherford. 

“I’m afraid Mama’s imagination positively runs wild with all
the ills that can befall a young lady.  We should return.”

The gentlemen took their leave of Jane, and Rutherford a
final leer, before heading back toward their horses at the inn.  Only Ned hung
back.

“May I escort you home?” asked Ned, wanting to know what
exactly was behind the hostility Miss Merriman clearly felt for Jane, as well as
why Jane had never mentioned her grandfather the earl.

“I’ll be fine,” said Jane.  “I can take care of myself.”

“Only a fool would suggest otherwise, but it would be my
pleasure to escort you and to continue our discussion from yesterday.”

“I’m afraid my lord, that all has been said that should be
said.” 

Reluctantly, Ned took his leave of her and rejoined the
others.  Jane hurried to her gig when he was safely away.

“Mama, you were talking to Ned.”

Jane looked at her daughter, stunned.  “How do you know
him?”

“He helped when Titania was stuck in the tree.  Then I
talked to him when Mrs. Heldt was in the store.  I told him I hoped he doesn’t
marry Miss Merriman.”

“Vi!  Where are your manners?  You’re not supposed to tell
people who they should and shouldn’t marry.”  Although she had to agree
wholeheartedly with her daughter’s opinion on the matter.  “And I’ve told you
not to speak to people you don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.  Can I keep speaking to him now that I know him?”

Jane thought of the disaster that could befall them all if
her daughter continued talking to Ned.  But she also knew the futility of
forbidding her very determined daughter to do something she wanted to do.  It
was almost always counterproductive.

“Let’s just say I would rather you didn’t, sweeting.  I
would rather you didn’t.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jane stared at her wardrobe feeling more depressed than
she’d allowed herself to be for quite some time.  Most of her gowns were
suitable for work, which was to say, stained, patched, mended and washed so
many times she couldn’t recall their true color.  Normally, she gave little
thought to how she looked.  She had much more practical concerns on her mind,
such as how to keep Vi in clothes she seemed to outgrow on an almost weekly
basis, as well as keeping the household fed with a roof over their heads, even
if it was rather leaky.

She took one more look at the wardrobe, then closed the door
and collapsed on her bed.  She wasn’t sure why she was even considering going
to the assembly.  Except if she didn’t, she’d likely spend the entire evening
thinking about Ned at Lady Barrington’s dinner, falling for the simpering Madeleine. 

There was a knock at her door, then Mrs. Heldt entered. 
“Miss Jane, I bring good news.  The vicar’s wife Mrs. Keller has lent you one
of her gowns to wear tonight.” 

Mrs. Heldt held the gown up.  It was light blue with a
modest neckline, short sleeves, and a silver gossamer silk overskirt.  It was
the most beautiful gown Jane had had the opportunity to wear in years.

“I cannot possibly accept the loan of such a beautiful
gown,” said Jane, wishing it weren’t true.

“Of course you can.  It’s only a loan and Mrs. Keller said
it’s in payment for the posset you made up for the vicar.  He’s recovered
enough for his sermon tomorrow, which is blessed news, although I hope he
doesn’t go on and on.  Those pews can be so uncomfortable.  You must wear the
gown.  You don’t want to insult the vicar’s wife, do you?”

“I have no business going to the assembly at all,” said Jane
wistfully as she ran her fingers over the beautiful garment.  “And there’s no
telling if I’ll be received even if I do attend.”

“Hush now,” said Mrs. Heldt, as she turned Jane around to
begin unlacing her dress.   “Anyone unkind enough to be rude to you has been
invited to dine at Lord Barrington’s tonight.  That leaves naught but your true
friends and those who have been the recipients of your care these many years. 
And I dare any of them to treat you as anything but the lady you are.”

Jane turned to the woman, with tears in her eyes.  “Thank
you, Mrs. Heldt.”

 “Let’s get you bathed and dressed and see if I can remember
how to do hair.”

Later, when Jane sank into the hip tub for a much-needed
soak, she was glad that the one thing she wouldn’t have to worry about that night
was running into Ned.  The man in country attire was hazardous enough.  Just
the thought of him in evening clothes was enough to fill Jane’s head with ideas
she shouldn’t have.  She definitely needed a distraction.  Perhaps the assembly
would turn out to be tolerable after all.

*                    *                    *

“What do you mean the dinner has been cancelled?” yelled Madeleine
in one of her moods that frightened even the most stalwart of footmen.    

“My dear, lower your voice!” said Lord Barrington.  “You
don’t want Lord Edward to hear.”

“But, papa, one of the imbecile servants caught the kitchen
on fire.  It’s hard to keep that a secret.”

“It wasn’t the entire kitchen,” said Lady Barrington,
thinking she was helping.  “Just the portion with tonight’s dinner.  I can
assure you that the servant has been dismissed without a character.”

“I should hope so!  We’ll be the laughingstock of the
village.  What are we to do?”

“Cook said she can create a much smaller supper
en
famille,
but we certainly can’t entertain all our guests that way,” said
Lady Barrington.  “We’ll send word to the others telling them to meet us at the
assembly, as if that had been our real destination all along.  They’ll think it
quite clever of us.”

“The assembly?” asked an incredulous Madeleine.  “I cannot
attend a gathering where simply everyone was invited.  It’d make me feel
positively common.”

“My dear,” said her doting papa, “you could never be common. 
Indeed, by comparison you’ll shine all the brighter.”

“In that case,” said Madeleine, never one to pass up a
chance to outshine anyone, “I shall attend.”

*                    *                    *

“We’ve arrived, Miss Jane,” said Farrell quite unnecessarily
since she sat beside him on the gig. 

“I’m not feeling quite the thing,” said Jane as she looked
at the many people entering the assembly hall.  “Perhaps I should return home.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Miss Jane,” said the
kindly groom.  “Mrs. Heldt told me you might try something like this and that I
was not to pay attention.  You must go in there, Miss Jane.  It’s high time you
enjoyed yourself again.”

Jane knew the man was right, so she climbed down from the
gig, took a deep breath and followed the others into the hall, hoping to blend
into the surroundings.

But it was not to be.

“Miss Jane!  How pretty you look tonight,” said Mary
Williams, who managed the pub with her husband Ken.  “My dear, come say hello
to our Miss Jane.” 

Her husband paid his respects, followed by several tenants,
dressed in their finest.  Even Mr. and Mrs. Birch were there, so soon after the
birth of their son.  They told Jane they meant to make an early night of it,
but didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see their neighbors and friends on
such a festive occasion. 

As Jane looked around the room, she definitely noticed some
disapproving glances and a few whispers behind fans.  But they made her all the
more determined to enjoy herself.  She was even persuaded to dance the opening
reel, partnered with the blushing 19-year-old son of her favorite tenants,
Betsy and Carl Smythe. 

She was midway through the number and thoroughly enjoying
dancing with the shy young man, when a sudden chill went through the room. 
Dancing came to a halt and all eyes turned to the doors as the Merriman family
entered, accompanied by Wills Overton.  But Jane had eyes for only one person
in their party.  If she were absolutely, hideously honest with herself, she had
eyes for only one person in the entire room.  The immaculately dressed Ned
Kellington. 

Jane tried to hide from the new arrivals, a task made
infinitely harder by her partner, who was staring rather slack-jawed at the
youngest Merriman sister.  Why were they here?  Unless it was to announce Madeleine’s
betrothal to Ned. 

Jane’s heart plummeted at the very notion. 

*                    *                   *

Almost as soon as Ned entered the room, his eyes were drawn
to a vision in a pretty blue dress.  Jane was dancing with some young pup who
had difficulty telling the floor from her slippers.  Despite her partner’s lack
of proficiency, she had a smile that lit up her face.  A smile Ned wanted aimed
in his direction.

 “I so wish Papa would take me to London,” said Madeleine
with a sniff.  “I’m sure if we were to host a ball, it’d be a crush.  And I would
never, ever be forced to socialize with country bumpkins ever again.” 

“Good evening.” Ned bowed to a couple near their party with
a daughter who’d spent the preceding moments tugging at her dress, obviously
self-conscious when compared to the Barrington crowd.  “Please allow me to
introduce myself.  I’m Edward Kellington.”

The couple introduced themselves, along with their daughter,
Mary.  The girl blushed bright red as Ned asked her to dance.  Miss Merriman
also turned a shade of red, but somehow Ned knew it had nothing to do with
being shy.

Once again, the room seemed to stand still as Ned led the
girl onto the dance floor.  It was a country dance, with an almost constant
rotation of partners.  It was in the third movement that Ned came face to face
with Jane.  As they joined hands briefly, it was as if an electric spark had
been set off between them.  Jane stumbled, only to have Ned make things worse
when he put a hand on her waist to steady her. 

“I thought you were going to dine at Lord Barrington’s,”
said Jane breathlessly, as she stepped back into the dance.

“The dinner was cancelled.  Apparently there was a mishap in
the kitchens.”

“So that would explain it,” said Jane with a scowl.

“Explain what?”

She couldn’t answer him because the dance separated them
once again.  Ned’s eyes followed her as she danced with each new partner.  One
fellow even had the cheek to briefly touch her waist.  Ned wanted to flatten
the bastard.  But all he could do was wait until the dance brought them
together again.

*                    *                    *

It was most unfair, thought Jane, that even in the most
beautiful gown she’d worn these many years, she could still feel like such a
dowd next to Ned.  The man moved with an effortless grace and certainly
captured admiring glances from every lady he partnered.  Actually, that wasn’t
true.  He gathered admiring glances from every lady in the room, not just the
ones he danced with.  His appeal probably extended across the county.  It was
indeed possible that if a census could be taken in all of England on the
question of Lord Edward Kellington’s appeal, he’d be more popular than Byron,
Shakespeare and the fictional Mr. Darcy combined.  Most unfair, that.

The cadence of the dance brought them together again, both
too soon and not soon enough for Jane.

“Explain what?” asked Ned again.

Jane tried to piece together their conversation from
earlier, but her mind only wanted to focus on the breadth of his shoulders and
not on the words coming out of his mouth. 

She pulled herself together.

“One of the kitchen maids at Barrington came to me earlier
seeking aid for burns on her hands.”

“I hope she wasn’t badly injured.”

“The burns should heal well enough, although she was in a
great deal of pain.  But I believe she was even more upset about being sacked.”

Ned furrowed his brows.  “Was there a reason for her
dismissal?”

“None other than the fact she ruined tonight’s supper.”

“What will become of the girl?”

“In the long run, I’m not sure.  I’ve offered her a position
in my home until she can find another job.”

“That was kind of you, Jane.”

And with that, they were separated once again and she was
left to ponder his compliment.  He thought her kind.  He wouldn’t think that if
he knew the direction her thoughts were taking regarding Madeleine Merriman.  When
she’d seen Madeleine entering the room on his arm, it had been like a mule kick
to the stomach.

With that lowering thought, the song ended.  Jane curtsied
to her partner, who was craning his neck to get a better look at the Merriman
girls.  Jane started to make her way toward the exit, but was stopped by
several people on the way complimenting her appearance and seeking medical
advice.  If she’d been paying closer attention to where she was going, she
wouldn’t have run into the last person she wanted to see.

“Jane!” said Madeleine, as Ned returned with a glass of
punch for her.  “Wherever did you get your gown, dear?  It looks just like the
one the vicar’s wife used to wear.”

“Mrs. Kellar was kind enough to lend it to me.”

“Another of her charitable works?”

Jane was about to show Madeleine a decided lack of charity,
when Ned spoke up.

“Miss Wetherby, I must tell you how much I admire your medical
work.  As someone with no patience for the sickbed – neither as patient nor
visitor – I must profess my profound respect for those who make it their life’s
work.  You do us all a service.”

This pronouncement was met with weighted silence.  The
members of the Barrington party were torn between their ingrained prejudice
against anyone who lowered themselves to a profession and their fear of
antagonizing Lord Edward and his esteemed family.

“A dance my lord?” said Madeleine, when she could think of
no safe rejoinder.  “I believe you promised me one.”

“My pleasure, Miss Merriman,” said Ned curtly, bowing to the
lady to whom he’d gone out of his way to avoid promising anything.  And to
block the exit he was sure Jane was about to make with all due haste, he added,
“Overton, may I suggest Miss Wetherby as a partner?” 

Wills Overton looked amused both by Ned’s maneuver and the
outright pique Madeline was barely suppressing.  “Will you do me the honor,
Jane?” asked Wills.  “I get the distinct impression Lord Edward doesn’t want to
let you make your escape.”

“I’m sure Lord Edward has no opinion upon the matter one way
or another,” said Jane as Wills led her into the dance.

“I know you better than that, Jane.  There’s no better
observer of human nature than you.  And you’ve been that way since we were
children.”

*                    *                    *

Perhaps she’d once possessed that skill, thought Jane, but
she’d become self-delusional lately.  As she looked over at Ned and Madeleine,
perfectly matched in looks and grace, she wondered why she’d ever thought the
assembly would be anything but miserable.

Jane Wetherby had to be one of the most interesting
individuals Ned had ever met.  Certainly more of a match intellectually than
the beautiful Madeleine Merriman who was currently in his arms and taking every
opportunity to brush her breasts against his chest.  The admiration he’d
expressed for Jane’s profession was genuine, even if he still found the whole
situation odd.  But he couldn’t let Miss Merriman continue to abuse his Jane.

His Jane?  Hardly.  Despite the myriad attractions of Jane –
and she did look stunning in the gown, vicarage cast-off or not – she still was
most genuinely not a match for him for anything other than the position he’d
once offered her and been rejected for.  Yes, he’d been on the verge of
proposing that day in Brussels when he returned to find her gone.  But, surely,
that had been the result of gratitude for her care with perhaps a bit of fever
blended in.  He couldn’t imagine the Duke of Lynwood countenancing the lively
Jane’s life as a surgeon.  And he certainly couldn’t see himself throwing off
family obligations to live in dreary Marston Vale with a wife who’d be off
every second hour to deliver a baby or stitch up some farmer after first
wasting half a bottle of good Scot’s whiskey.