Chapter 33

CHAPTER33

Jane’s arrival had, perhaps, been the strangest part of the day’s proceedings. Of all the people who might have come to the front door of Tillington House, Joanna had never expected it to be Jane, for who would have the gall and indecency after what had occurred in the library?

Perhaps, that was precisely why Joanna had allowed the treacherous woman into the drawing room—to find out what manner of woman had stolen Edwin’s heart, though Joanna had begun to doubt it had ever been hers anyway.

“Might I have a moment alone?” Joanna asked her mother and sister, who both looked braced for a fight.

Nancy shook her head. “I am not leaving you alone with this woman.”

“Please, Nancy,” Joanna urged. “There are things that might be said that I do not wish your innocent ears to hear.”

Her mother rose and offered her hand to Nancy. “Come, darling. We can finish our tea on the terrace. If Joanna needs us, she can call for us.”

Thank you, Joanna mouthed to her mother, who gave a sage nod in reply: a nod that spoke of experience in contending with a husband’s lovers.

Once the two women had made their way out onto the terrace and closed the doors behind them, Joanna gestured for Jane to take a seat in one of the vacated armchairs. Still dusting herself off after stumbling awkwardly into the room, Jane chose the seat farthest from Joanna, and folded her hands piously in her lap, as if she were also an innocent victim.

“Have you come to tell me that we can all reside together in one household, or that you are benefitting me in some peculiar fashion?” Joanna began, when Jane made no attempt to speak first. “Or have you merely come to gloat?”

Jane smiled coldly. “I have no reason to gloat, Joanna.”

“Ah, so you are going to pretend as if you did nothing wrong?”

Jane’s smile faded, “I know what you think you saw in the library, Joanna.”

“What I think I saw? No, I assure you, my eyes know precisely what they saw and the memory is perfectly seared into my memory, in case I should find a moment where I am able to forget,” Joanna shot back, grabbing a scone from the plate on the central table, in case she felt peckish or decided she wanted to throw something at her rival later.

Jane shook her head. “No, your eyes know only what I wanted them to see,” she explained carefully. “I was aware of your presence in the library that night. In truth, I am surprised His Grace did not hear, for you have such… masculine footfalls. Heavy.”

“If this is the beginning of an apology, you are taking a most unusual route,” Joanna remarked, glaring.

Jane’s smile returned, crueler than before. “He was asleep, Joanna. He did not even know I was there. When I heard you enter, I asked him to ’read that again for me,’ though his book had fallen from his hands long ago. I watched it fall, as I watched him sleep, waiting for him to awaken.”

“Is that something you do often—watching other women’s husbands sleep?”

Jane shrugged. “Whenever there is one in my bed.” She paused, expelling a sigh. “His Grace is not that sort of gentleman. I know, because I used all of my usual charms and tricks, and not one of them worked. And though you think you saw us together, you did not stay to watch the part where he threw me off him so hard that I still have a bruise on my back from where I landed on the floor. Ironically, my unwanted kiss woke him up, and he was not best pleased that I was not you.”

“Pardon?” Joanna faltered, staring at Jane as if she had a horn growing out of her head.

“He refused me.”

Joanna shook her head. “That is not what I saw and not what I heard. The maids were discussing all of the wretched antics that the two of you had been reveling in, while I was in the grip of a fever.” She wracked her mind for the memory. “He had his arm around you, coming back to the manor from the river. You were smiling and laughing together. He kissed your neck in the stables. You had been stealing into the library together, long before I happened upon you, and had been spending a good deal of time together beyond the library.”

Jane rolled her eyes as if Joanna’s pain bored her. “He helped me back from the river because I waded in and pretended to drown. I knew he was going to check the rising water levels, so I timed it for that very event. Almost did drown, in truth.” She had the audacity to laugh. “Him ’kissing my neck’ in the stables is false—I pretended to catch the back of my dress on a nail; he helped get me free. I suppose he got rather close, because I chose the spot carefully, which must have been what those gossiping maids saw. As for stealing into the library together—he would enter, I would sneak in after and wait for him to fall asleep. Until last night, he never did. I also pretended to fall and faint in front of him, which I suppose the maids did not see. He helped me, but that is all, and I suspect he did it for you.”

“For me?” Joanna snorted, but doubts began to creep in.

Jane nodded. “Every time he helped me, he would tell me over and over how much he loves you, and how glad he is that you have a friend of similar age at the manor. Everything was about you.” She pulled a sour face. “I did not think it possible, but I finally found the one gentleman who could not be seduced. Did not stop me from making a fool of myself in the attempt, though.”

“I… do not understand.” Joanna rubbed the base of her throat, feeling uneasy, as if she had just made the greatest mistake of her life.

“I have wanted him for myself since I was a girl,” Jane replied, pouring herself a cup of tea. “Peggy has always kept me at a safe distance, of course, but she was too distracted by you and her nephew to notice my pursuit. She even protected me, quite by accident, when I destroyed that gown of yours.”

Joanna nearly choked on her own breath. “That was you?”

“You see, Peggy had fallen asleep in the bath, which is a rather dangerous thing to do, but considering the size of her, I doubted she would drown,” Jane went on, smirking. “It took mere moments for me to dash to your chambers, rip the gown to ribbons, and return to scrubbing Peggy’s back unnoticed. Fortunately, the lock was broken on your chamber door, though if it had not been, I would simply have gone back another time. I can be quite… destructive when I have my heart set on something.”

“Are you enjoying this? Do you take pride in this?” Joanna coughed, appalled and bewildered by what she was hearing, and how she was hearing it. It was as if Jane was telling an amusing story from one of the most recent balls, not telling the tale of how she had deliberately sought to destroy Joanna and Edwin’s marriage, to steal him for herself.

Jane swiped a scone, taking a big bite. “I am very disappointed in myself, actually. I am sorry about your gown—I do not know why I did it, in truth. I suppose I thought you would respond as I would have done, by insisting that no one would be going to the ball. Then, I would have been able to stay at Bruxton Hall to further my pursuit.” She paused, tilting her head to one side. “I should have known then that His Grace was… unusual, considering what he did for you with his mother’s gown.”

“You are quite mad, do you know that?” Joanna shook her head in disbelief.

“I have been told that, yes,” Jane answered. “Being starved of affection will do that to a lady. Anyway, for the sake of my future prospects, I thought it best to come and tell you the truth. Rather dramatic of you, though, running away in the dead of night—it is fortunate I saw you leave, or I would not have known where to come.”

Joanna narrowed her eyes, tempted to hurl her scone at the odd woman. “You think Edwin will tell Peggy what you did, and she will cast you aside?”

“Or something of that kind,” Jane confirmed. “So, be a precious little lamb, and return to Bruxton Hall before anyone realizes you are missing. If they have, say you wished to ride and got lost in the hills. Tell no one of what I have said, and all will be well. You can be blissfully happy with your annoyingly loyal husband, and I can find one who will allow me to do as I please—or is too stupid to realize.”

Joanna’s irritation flared. “I do hope that was not a threat, Miss Russell.”

“Not a threat, but a hope,” Jane replied, in the first display of true chagrin she had shown since entering the drawing room. “I was not always this way.”

“No?”

Jane’s expression softened, her eyes glistening. “As a child, I was left in the nursery and ignored, or tormented by my brothers when they tired of whatever new gift they had been given. For days, no one would kiss me goodnight or come to fetch me. As I grew up, nothing changed. So, I demanded attention with bad behavior, until my family also grew tired of that and sent me to Peggy. No one wrote to me, no one visited me, for my mother and father had sons; why would they care about a daughter? Since then, it has been my… purpose, I suppose, to dismantle as many families as I can—or, at least, have the power to, if I wanted. It is not much of an excuse, but it is my story.”

If Jane had begun with that, perhaps Joanna might have felt more sympathy. But even through her outrage and disgust, Joanna allowed a small fragment of pity to pierce the bubble of her desire to punish Jane for what she had done, all she had orchestrated. After all, Joanna had not stayed to speak with Edwin, to hear his side of the story; instead, she had run with her first instinct that he had betrayed her, because that was what she had been taught of gentlemen.

We are all the consequences of our parents’ actions, she knew, watching Jane as the contrite woman dropped her chin to her chest, as if waiting for an axe to fall.

“Peggy will have to learn of your attempt to ruin my marriage,” Joanna said, at last, “but I will ask her, on your behalf, to show mercy. I will ask her to continue to have you with her as a companion, and to bring in a matchmaker if a suitable husband cannot be found for you by the end of next season. That is all I can do for you, after what you have done to me.”

Anger flashed in Jane’s eyes for a moment as she lifted her head, but she must have seen danger in Joanna’s gaze, for she quickly let that spark fade. “I suppose I should be grateful,” she muttered. “Peggy, at least, will do anything you ask.”

“But do try to be better, Jane,” Joanna added. “It does us no favors to live in the fears and chaos that our fathers have stamped into our hearts and minds. If I had followed those fears, if I had turned my back on love because I did not think it existed, I would never have found happiness. I believe you might find it too, or someone who accepts you as you are, at the very least.”

Jane furrowed her brow. “I… really am sorry for trying to corrupt him.” Her breath hitched. “I did not believe any honest, loyal gentlemen existed. It has been an education. A strange one.”

“As it has been for me, too. I have much to learn still,” Joanna conceded. “And the rest of my education will begin with an apology to the man I love. I suggest your continued education begins with several apologies, and you ought to start your journey now.”

Jane set down her teacup and pulled back her shoulders. “I may return to Bruxton Hall with your permission?”

“You may.”

Jane got up without delay, heading for the door. On the threshold, she turned back. “I misjudged you and His Grace. I will make amends, one day.” She paused. “I know you have the power to ruin me for what I have done, and I am eternally grateful that you have chosen not to. I will apologize. I will… try to be better.”

“That is all I can ask.” Joanna put on a smile, for if Jane tried to stay at Bruxton Hall after her apologies had been made, Joanna would also ask one more thing of the woman: to leave, before she dragged her away by her hair.

With that, Jane left, and Joanna headed out onto the terrace to meet her sister and mother. From there, they watched Jane’s carriage depart, bumping and swaying up the gravel road to the gates.

“I should also return,” Joanna said, having informed her mother and sister of everything they had not already overheard through the terrace door. “I will stay tonight, so that Pegasus can rest properly, and then I will ride back in the morning.”

Joanna’s mother moved to embrace her eldest daughter. “Do not feel foolish for making assumptions,” she whispered, somehow reading Joanna’s heart. “Had Edwin been almost any other gentleman, you would not have been wrong. Still, I am pleased beyond measure that he is not like the others.”

“As am I,” Joanna replied, hugging her mother tightly, wishing it had been the same for her.

At that moment, the crunch of hooves snared the attention of the three ladies on the terrace, their heads all turning toward the sound. A huge, proud black stallion almost careered into Jane’s carriage, prompting Joanna’s heart to lurch into her throat. She would have known that horse, and his rider, anywhere.

“He came,” Joanna whispered. “Quick, everyone inside!”

Grabbing her mother and sister by the hands, she pulled them back into the drawing room and closed the door, locking it behind them.

“You are not going to greet him?” Her mother looked puzzled.

“Not like this!” Joanna replied, gesturing down at her wretched appearance. “Come, help me to wash and dress in something more befitting, for I would begin the rest of my life not resembling a hedge witch that has never seen the pronged end of a comb. We must hold him off for an hour or so. If he is determined, he will not mind, and the reunion will be all the sweeter, for I will not smell so sour.”

Joanna’s mother relaxed. “Very wise, my darling. I will tell the butler to keep Edwin outside until you are… more yourself.”

* * *

Staring at her beloved husband, lying unconscious on the floor, Joanna wished she had gone straight to him in all her wild dishevelment instead of bathing in delightful oils and putting on one of her old dresses. Her prettiness seemed foolish now, and her long skirts only got in the way as she bent down and tried with all her might to heave her husband up.

“Edwin, wake up,” she urged, but his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids, unable to open. “Please, my love, wake up.”

Peggy glared at the butler. “Send for footmen, you oaf! My nephew must be carried to a bedchamber at once. And have the physician sent for!”

“Of course, My Lady,” the butler replied, scurrying off.

Meanwhile, Joanna had managed to roll Edwin onto his back. Kneeling at his side, she pressed her palm to his brow, wincing at the heat that radiated into her skin. He was slicked in sweat, pale as a ghost, murmuring softly in some manner of delirium.

“He has caught the sickness,” she said miserably, hating that she had kept him outside. “Why did he ride all the way here if he was so unwell?”

Mrs. Hislop crouched low and rested a hand on Joanna’s back. “For you, Lady Joanna. There’s been a terrible misunderstanding—quite a mess that has been made by Jane, but—”

“I know it all,” Joanna admitted. “I was going to allow him entry, but I wanted to… look beautiful for him, first. I was not trying to play silly games. Goodness, I should have let him in. I should have…”

Mrs. Hislop folded Joanna into her comforting arms. “He will survive it, as you have done. And when he awakens, with his health restored, he will be glad to discover that he is forgiven and that there has been no love lost between you.”

“I am sorry, my love,” Joanna whispered, pulling away to take hold of Edwin’s hands. “Please, be well. Be well so that I can tell you, with all my heart, how much I love you.”

In his delirium, Edwin’s face twisted. “Do… not leave… me,” he murmured, and Joanna’s heart broke just a little bit, thinking of the nightmares that must have been swimming through his head.

“Be well,” she repeated. “Please, my love, you must be well, for I do not know what I would do without you.”