The Heiress Effect (44 page)

There was no point clarifying the exact state
of Emily’s ruination.

Mr. Fairfield didn’t say anything for a long
while. His lips moved, as if he was arguing with himself…but at
least he appeared to be arguing back. Finally, he straightened.
“You’re Indian,” he finally said. “Doesn’t that mean that you
have…special healing abilities? I think I remember hearing about
them. Special…” He made a gesture. “Things. With stuff.”

Anjan had his degree in law from
Cambridge—the exact same degree that Mr. Fairfield had earned. He
wanted to laugh. He ought to have corrected the man.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I do things with
stuff. How ever did you know?”

“Maybe this is for the best,” Fairfield said.
“You might know of a whole range of cures that I have not been able
to access. This might be the best thing for her after all.”

Anjan didn’t nod. He didn’t smile. “I’d be
happy to try anything that seems like a good idea,” he said, and
Fairfield looked pleased with himself.

“Good, good. But—just to make sure—we’re
putting it in the settlements. No burning her alive.”

“Well,” Anjan said generously, “you do have
to look out for your niece.”

The end came upon her so swiftly that Jane
didn’t even realize she was looking at it until the moment had
already passed.

The end came first in happiness—when Oliver’s
inquiries were swiftly answered in the affirmative. There was a
barrister named Anjan Bhattacharya. Addresses were discovered;
messages exchanged via swift courier, and two hours later, Jane
found herself at her sister’s hotel, flying into Emily’s arms.

Emily was nearly incoherent. She had just
received a scrap of paper—a telegram—from Titus of all people.

“I can’t believe it,” Emily said. “I have no
idea what Anjan said to him, but he
agreed.
I’m getting
married! He won’t be my guardian anymore. It’s over.”

It was over. Jane laughed with her sister—and
agreed to be her maid of honor—and hugged her and listened to her
describe the difficulties of needing two marriage ceremonies.

She heard more about Anjan, too.

“You’ll have to meet him when he returns.
You’ll like him, I promise. Oh, Jane, I’m so happy.”

There were details to be hashed through after
that—details of settlements for Emily, her trousseau… These were
happy details. Jane floated back to the hotel room she shared with
Oliver.

He now had a second pile of paper in front of
him. He kissed her, though, long and slow. “I’m glad that’s all
settled,” he said, when she explained everything.

But he didn’t sound glad. And he didn’t meet
her eyes when he said he had to get back to his work. It
was
all settled…and he’d only talked about this affair lasting until
Emily was found and made safe.

Jane retreated to the dressing room to change
her gown for dinner. The hotel maid had undone the laces of Jane’s
gown when the knock came.

She heard the door open.

“Mr. Cromwell?”

Jane recognized the voice of one of the hotel
staff, and hid a smile at the assumed name.

“Yes.”

“There’s a woman here to see you.”

“A woman?” Oliver asked. “I’m not expecting
a…” He trailed off.

Jane was stripped to her corset. Even if she
had been dressed, she could not have walked out into that room. To
announce her presence in his room at a time like this… She might
not care much for her reputation on her behalf, but
his
reputation still had some value.

There was a pause, the sound of footsteps.
And then…

“Mother?” he said. There was another pause.
When he spoke again, his voice had altered from swift and
business-like to anguished. “Oh my God, Mother. What’s wrong?”

Jane motioned to the servant and sent her
away through the smaller servants’ door. No maid needed to overhear
this. Jane shouldn’t either, but she had no place to retreat
to.

“I’m just glad I found you in time,” the
woman—Oliver’s
mother
—said. “The duke said—well, never mind.
I can’t really think—Oliver, listen to me, I can’t get a straight
sentence out of my mouth. It’s just…”

“Take a deep breath. Take your time. Tell
me.”

The other woman’s voice broke. “It’s
Freddy.”

“What happened to her? We can take care of
her, find her the best doctors, give her—”

“They found her in her bed a day and a half
after she passed away.”

“No.” But Oliver didn’t sound as if he were
denying it, just reflexively pushing away the words. “That can’t
be. I saw her not so long ago. She looked a little ill, but…”

“It was an apoplexy. They say she didn’t
suffer.”

“Oh, Mother.” Oliver’s voice was muffled. “I
should have said something to you when I saw her, should have let
you know she wasn’t doing well. I should have had you come out
and—”

“Enough. I told her I loved her the last time
I saw her. We’ve had our differences, but we’ve also had our good
times.” The other woman’s voice quavered. “Don’t lay blame. There’s
more than enough sorrow without it.”

There were no words for a while after that,
just a few sniffles. The sounds of family giving—and
receiving—comfort.

Oliver had mentioned his aunt Freddy in the
bookshop all those months ago. It was one of the first things that
had drawn Jane to him—that he’d talked about a woman who obviously
had her own peculiarities with such respect and affection.

It was as if someone had whispered to Jane
that if he could love an ornery, stubborn, strange old woman, he
might like
her.

And he had.

“It’s tomorrow,” his mother said. “The
funeral. Everyone is down—Laura and Geoffrey, Patricia and Reuven.
Free and your father. We’re having dinner tonight.”

“Of course I’ll be there.”

There was a long pause.

“And Oliver, the woman who is staying with
you…”

Jane froze.

“What woman?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re here under an
assumed name. You’ve never used my soap, and yet someone here has
washed with my May blend. I smelled it the instant I walked in. I
only wanted you to know… There won’t be many of us present, just
family and a few others. If she’s important to you, if she would
bring you comfort, you should bring her.”

“
Mama.”

“I won’t pinch your cheek in front of her,
and if you’re worried about the example you’ll set for your
sister…”

“Mama, please.”

“…don’t. Free will probably lecture you
better than I could.”

There was a long pause. Oliver had to know
that Jane was listening. He had to be wondering what she was
thinking, what she would make of all this. Jane wrapped her arms
around herself and wanted. Even if this didn’t last. Even if they
never saw each other again after their days together, even if he
married his perfect little wren next month.

Right now, she wanted to be the one who
comforted him.

“I’ll…”

“Think about it, Oliver.”

Jane bit her lip and looked away, trying not
to feel the sting of it. They had agreed, after all. And he was
upset. She really didn’t have a place in his life, and it was the
work of a moment—one soul-squeezing moment—to forgive him the small
pain he caused her.

“I’ll see,” he said.

Oliver knew what was coming the instant he
closed the door after his mother. He didn’t even want to turn
around. Didn’t want to have to look at Jane and see what he had
done.

But he did. He went and found her where she
was still seated on a bench in the dressing room. She was wearing
petticoats and a corset and was gazing off into space. She looked
up as he came in.

“Good,” she said. “You’re here. I suppose we
need to…” She trailed off and looked at her hands in her lap.

“Jane.” He felt a lump in his throat as he
faced her.

“I need someone to help me put on my dress.”
She pointed to a blue silk with red ribbons. “That one.”

“Jane…”

“I’m not going to have this discussion with
you when I’m half-dressed,” she said, and so he helped her put it
on. It was agonizing, to brush her soft skin. To want to kiss her
shoulder, as he smoothed fabric over it. He wanted so much with
her…but he suspected that this was the end, the donning of this
dress, and not a beginning.

When he had finished to the best of his
ability, she turned back to him.

“I can…” No. He couldn’t exonerate
himself.

“Explain?” she asked. “You don’t need to
explain. You already have. I am the last woman in the world you
want to marry. You’re upset because of your aunt. Why would you
introduce me to your family? You haven’t said anything I don’t
already know.”

He took a step forward. “It’s not that.”

“Oh?” There was just enough of a dubious
quality in her voice.

“It is that,” he said, “But it’s so much
more. I love you, Jane.”

She tilted her head. “
What?”

“I love you. And if I let you share in
this—if I bring you in at this moment—I don’t know how I could ever
let you go. You’d be a part of me. A part of my family.”

She already was. There was some part of him
that felt as if he were still on a dark forest road with her. With
nobody else around—just the two of them against the rest of the
world.

She had not said anything yet.

“I want that,” he said. “It hurts how much I
want that. Come with me, Jane. Not as my lover, but as my
fiancée.”

She didn’t say anything.

“I know there will be difficulties, but we
can work them out. Minnie can sponsor you; she could get the
Dowager Duchess of Clermont to train you. And—”

“Train me?” Jane said. “What am I, a
horse?”

Oliver winced. “No. Of course not. But a few
lessons…”

“A few lessons on what?” Jane’s chin came up,
but her lips trembled. “On how to act, how to behave, how to dress.
Is that what you mean?”

He couldn’t say anything.

“Tell me, Oliver, how long do you think it
will take me to learn to hold my tongue? To talk quietly? To dress
as everyone else does?”

“I—Jane…”

“If you want a wren, marry one. Don’t ask
me.”

He shut his eyes. “I know. I know. It’s such
a horrid thing to ask. But…” He paused, trying to regroup. Trying
to explain. “I’ve made a career of keeping quiet. Someone from my
background has to be particularly careful. My brother can advocate
whatever he wishes; I have to be cautious. To make sure that when
people think of me, they think of a reasonable man. Someone who is
just like them. Someone who…”

“Someone who doesn’t have an awful wife,”
Jane said. Her voice was thick.

“Yes,” he whispered. And then seeing that
flash in her eyes, he shook his head. “No. That’s not what I meant.
It’s just what everyone else would think.”

She stood up. “It’s just as well, because I…”
She stopped, biting her lip, and then shook her head. “No, never
mind. You’ve just been told that your aunt has passed away. I don’t
need to add to your burdens.”

“Just say it,” he snapped, “and spare me your
pity.”

Her chin rose. “It’s just as well you don’t
want an
awful
wife,” she told him, “because I had hoped for
a husband with a little courage.”

Oh, that hurt. He wasn’t choosing between
acceptance and Jane, between a ballroom filled with happy
friendship and that dark road alone with Jane. He was choosing
between a dark, lonely road with her, and one without her.

“You didn’t go to Eton,” he said to her. “You
didn’t go to Cambridge. You didn’t spend
years
slowly
fashioning yourself into the kind of person who could fit in and
thus make a difference. Don’t tell me this doesn’t take courage.
Don’t tell me that.” His voice rose with every word. “Don’t tell me
it wasn’t courage that brought me back again and again, after every
attempt to toss me out. Being like me takes courage, damn it.”