Plain Jane (23 page)

‘Sit down, John,’ said Felice placidly. ‘It is good to see you. I am sorry I ran away without saying goodbye but I felt sure I would be amply rewarded for my services – and I was.’

‘So you have a dowry,’ said Rainbird heavily, for it struck him that Felice might think he only wanted to marry her to get his hands on it.

‘Yes, I have a dowry,’ she said, bending her head over her stitching. ‘I hope to make an advantageous marriage.’

Rainbird winced. ‘You must have had many adventures,’ he said, ‘with Captain Hart and Lord Tregarthan.’

‘Yes, it was all most uncomfortable. The good captain was kind, but that man Tregarthan! Bah. He had no thought for my safety or comfort. He ordered me about like a trooper.’

‘He is to marry Miss Jane,’ said Rainbird. ‘They are going to elope, I think. He asked me to leave miss with him, and his travelling carriage was outside. Oh, we have had such dramas.’ He told her about Mr Gillespie and the murder of Clara.

‘
Tiens!
’ said Felice, much amused. ‘That Tregarthan! His beloved is nearly murdered on the one day and he drags her off on an elopement the next. He is lucky Miss Jane is not missish.’

‘I gather his lordship has been very generous to you,’ said Rainbird, wishing she would put down her sewing and look at him.

‘I earned it,’ said Felice dryly. ‘What brings you here, John?’

‘You,’ said Rainbird.

Felice’s busy hands stilled and she smoothed the piece of sewing on her lap. She looked up, her gaze calm and steady. ‘It would not answer, John,’ she said. ‘You and I. Marriage is not for us. I am tired of servitude and insecurity. I shall marry a comfortable middle-aged burgher and bear him children. Love is a luxury I cannot afford.’

‘Please, Felice,’ said Rainbird, sinking to one knee in front of her.

‘No, my butler friend. No. You English are so romantic. In France we are used to marriages of convenience at every level of society. Besides, you have too many responsibilities. All those children!’

‘I do not have children, Felice. I have never been married.’

‘I mean MacGregor, Joseph, Dave, Mrs Middleton, Alice, Jenny, and Lizzie –
those
children. You will never really desert them.’

‘For you – only for you – would I desert them.’

‘
Menteur!
’ laughed Felice. ‘How you lie, and yet you think you are telling the truth.’ She put her sewing aside. ‘But you may say goodbye to me properly.’ She took his hands and rose, drawing him up to his feet. ‘Come,’ she said softly.

Bemused, Rainbird followed her out of the parlour and up a dark wooden staircase to her bedroom above. ‘You can’t mean,’ he said, ‘you can’t . . .’

‘I can,’ smiled Felice, unfastening the tapes of her gown. ‘This is a farewell present, John. Come and take it . . . now.’

The next evening Rainbird alighted from the Brighton coach at Blossom’s Inn, Lawrence Lane in the City. The sun had set and a purplish smoky sky stretched above the roof-tops.

Rainbird bought a bottle of brandy with some of his savings, all of which he had taken with him in the hope of starting a new life with Felice. He decided to walk. His heart felt heavy and the very thought of returning to Clarges Street made him miserable. A smell of sassafras, sugar, and hot milk rose from the saloop stalls at the corners of the winding City streets.

Number 67
was
unlucky, decided Rainbird bitterly. Murder had been done there, suicide, financial ruin – and even Fiona Sinclair, she who had married the Earl of Harrington and had seemed all set to have a happy life, had disappeared.

Rainbird decided to call at Hanover Square on the road home and ask if there was any news of the Earl and Countess of Harrington. The familiar, unpleasant, fat white face of the Harringtons’ butler peered round the door. ‘What d’ye want?’ demanded Lord Harrington’s butler nastily.

‘Is there any news of the earl and countess?’ asked Rainbird.

‘They was found in Turkey by Mr Sinclair,’ said the butler.

‘Well?’ asked Rainbird breathlessly.

‘’Er ladyship was sick o’ something furren and they was staying with this pasha and the letters never got ’ome. But we ’as one now, and they’re all right, so push off.’

Rainbird walked lightly with his springy acrobat’s step across Hanover Square. Surely the bad luck of the house was over. Fiona was safe. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he returned to Brighton, say, in a month’s time, Felice might have changed her mind. He could write to her. At least he could do that!

As he approached Number 67, he heard the twanging of Joseph’s mandolin soaring up in the night air.

Rainbird ran quickly down the area steps. ‘I’m back,’ he called cheerfully. ‘Everybody . . . I’m home.’

Lord Tregarthan removed his bride’s white satin wedding gown, held it out at arm’s length, and looked at it with a critical eye. ‘Definitely got the stamp of the village dress-maker,’ he said. ‘Well, my sweet, we shall be married again in church in London when we eventually return and then you may have a proper wedding gown.’

Jane stood in her shift, shivering with a mixture of apprehension, desire, and nerves. ‘Do you mean to stand there all night examining my wardrobe?’ she asked sharply.

He tossed the gown into the corner and took her in his arms. ‘No, my love,’ he said, his eyes glinting with laughter. ‘I have other plans . . . like this . . . and this . . . and this . . .

A stormy hour ensued. Jane, lying at last with her head against his naked chest, murmured, ‘Poor mama. How very upset she must be.’

‘She will forgive us . . . unfortunately. At this moment, I confess I find that the idea of never having to see your mama again would please me very much.’

‘I would like to see papa,’ said Jane. ‘I know
he
will be happy for me.’

‘As soon as we hear of his return, we will travel to meet his ship. In the meantime, we have all the time in the world to ourselves.’

‘I feel so safe,’ yawned Jane. ‘I must have been mad to try to catch Mr Gillespie by myself. I . . . I thought you would be so proud of me, but you have never stopped complaining about it.’

‘And never shall,’ he said lazily. ‘When I think of the peril you were in with only those odd servants to help you.’

‘They are most unusual,’ said Jane. ‘And so very brave and loyal. When I first met them, I thought they must be related in some way. Rainbird, the butler, asked me to give the staff references should I ever find myself a lady of consequence.’

‘And so you are, and so you shall. But you will never need to ask them for help again. I shall make very sure if anyone dies a mysterious death that you are not allowed to become curious.

‘So forget the horrors of poor Clara’s death, and kiss me again . . .
beautiful
Jane.’