She was on her way downstairs half an hour later, having taken the picture and the story to her room, feeling considerably more cheerful than she had when she went up. Though there was no reason to, she thought gloomily. She still had all her problems to sort out and deal with.Sedgeworthrounded the bottom of the stairs and began to run up them two at a time. He did not see her until he was halfway up.
"Jane!" he said, reaching for her hands and smiling broadly. "You were in the nursery, were you? I have searched everywhere else. That was going to be my last port of call. Joy said she sent you there an hour ago but that you could not possibly still be there.Splendid news, dear."
Jane felt a lump in her throat as she looked into his happy face. She squeezed his hands unconsciously.
"The Duke of Wellington won a glorious victory in Belgium five days ago," he said. "Boney was completely routed and the allied army is chasing the French toward Paris. I think that will be the end of him this time, dear. England and indeed the whole of Europe are safe again."
"Oh," Jane said, "I am so glad. Were there many casualties?"
His expression became more sober. "Wallace's letter mentioned heavy losses on both sides," he said. "I fear it was a dearly won victory, Jane."
"Poor men," she said. "And poor wives and children and mothers left behind."
His expression softened and he lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed the palm. "Dear Jane," he said."How typical of you to think more of the suffering than of the victory.Would you like to come for a drive to the village? That is why I was looking for you. Your cousin has declared that she cannot live through another day without a length of yellow ribbon, and Joy has agreed that she would welcome the sight of a different human face for a change. Fairfax is shut up in the library with his bailiff, and Wallace is still busy writing letters. That leaves me for an escort." He grinned.
Jane smiled. "Will you mind if I do not come, Joseph?" she asked. "I did not sleep well last night and have been looking forward to spending the rest of the morning quietly outside."
"Of course I will not mind, dear," he said. "You are not ill?"
She shook her head.
"I must go then," he said. "Ten minutes ago your cousin declared toall theworld that she would not wait five minutes longer."
Jane watched him run down the stairs as fast as he had come up them. What a very dear man he was. Why, oh why, could a person not choose whom she would love? Why could she only like him dearly and not love him at all? She sighed and continued her more sedate descent of the staircase. The sky was overcast today. It looked chilly outside. But she would not delay by going back upstairs for a shawl. She continued on her way down to the ground floor and out onto the cobbled terrace.
She wanted to go to the lake. She would be out of sight there. But she was afraid somehow that he would go there after he had finished with his bailiff. She walked along the graveled paths of the formal gardens, hardly aware of the beauty around her or of the heavy scents of the flowers. She made her way to the lowest level, where she knew there was a wrought-iron seat beneath a willow tree, out of sight of the house.
She knew exactly what she must do. But unfortunately it was so much easier to know what one should do than to do it. She was going to have to put an end to her betrothal to Joseph and leave Templeton Hall as soon as possible. She was going to have to return to Yorkshire and spend the rest of her life in seclusion and in single state. A very bright prospect indeed, she thought with a bitter little laugh.
She could not marry Joseph. She did like him a great deal, and they could have a good marriage.Could.But they would not. She could never be happy feeling as she did about his friend. And if she was unhappy, then ultimately he would be so too. She could best show her affection for him by breaking the engagement now before it was too late.
Besides, Jane thought, even if she could so school her mind as to forget her love for Michael Templeton, she could not marry Joseph. She had been unfaithful to him the night before. It was true she still had her chastity. But virginity was a relative state. Last night she had given her heart to Michael. She would have given herself if the setting had been more private or even right there in the music room if he had not stopped when he had. She had been beyond rational thought. She had allowed him to unclothe her to the waist. Indeed, she had assisted him, as eager as he to feel his hands on her naked breasts. She would have allowed him inside her body if he had chosen to take her. There was no point in trying to convinceherselfthat she would have put an end to the embrace before that could have happened. She did not believe she would have.
So she had been unfaithful to Joseph in almost every way that mattered. And he had been in the same house at the time. Indeed, he might at any moment have walked back into the music room. She had offered herself wantonly to his friend anyway. She could not continue to behave publicly as if nothing had happened. That would not be fair to him. Even if he never knew that his betrothed and his friend had enjoyed a very unchaste embrace, it would not be fair to him to continue the engagement.
So she must tell him that she would not marry him after all. She really did love him in a very unromantic way, and she would hate never to meet him again, never to see his kindly face, or listen to his conversation. When the alternative to marrying him was to live a spinster life in the wilds of Yorkshire, it was very tempting to tell herself that she would marry him and spend the rest of her life making up to him for the dishonor she had brought him the night before. But she had to think of him first. He deserved a better wife than she could ever be. She was not worthy of him.
Of course, it was not going to be easy. Their betrothal had been publicly announced in the London papers. His sister and brother-in-law and his nephews and niece already treated her as one of the family. And he was fond of her, she believed. He would be hurt. And she would not be able to give him the real reason for breaking off the engagement. He would be left believing that somehow he fell short of her expectations. She desperately wanted to avoid giving that impression, but she had still not thought of the words she would say. Perhaps that was why she had not found the opportunity to talk to him that morning as she should.
And she must leave Templeton Hall. She should be packing her bags at that very moment instead of sitting idle in the garden like this. She should leave that very day. But oh, dear God, she would never see him or his children or this place ever again once she had left. She must be granted one more day during which to store conscious memories to last through the lifetime ahead.
Could she have been happy here? Could she have made him contented with her? Could she perhaps have made him love her just a little? She still could not understand his part in what had happened the night before. He did not seem the sort of man who would seduce a woman for the mere pleasure of doing so. And he appeared to value Joseph's friendship. The only possible explanation seemed to be that he had lost his head as completely as she had. But why would that have happened to him? She was not physically beautiful or attractive. He did not love her. Why, then? What other reason could there be? Would the same thing have happened if Honor had been sitting at the pianoforte with him instead of her? He had kissed Honor at Vauxhall. Had he kissed her like that?
Jane closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warmth of the sun, which was just now peeping out from behind the clouds. She had made a terrible mess of the last few weeks. She should have accepted Michael when she had the chance. She had thought then that having part of him would be worse than having nothing at all. She was not at all sure now that that was true. The future loomed ahead with terrifying emptiness. What matter that he had loved Susan and had only a leftover affection to offer a second wife? What matter that he would have married her only to care for his house and his children? She could have made that enough.
She loved his children. She loved all children, but there was something very special about those two little girls.Probably because they were his.She could have made happiness out of giving Claire the mother's arms that any two-year-old still craves. And she could have given Amy the loving attention the child needed to bring her out of her shell. She would have loved to see her gradually develop into a normal, happy four-year-old.Amy, who looked so much like her father.And she could have had children of her own perhaps.Hers and Michael's.Now there never would be any children ofher ownwomb. Onlyother people'sto love.
But she was giving in to self-pity, Jane decided, lowering her eyes to the flowers at her feet. Other people were about to suffer because of her selfishness and folly. Honor too. She was going to be a problem. If Jane were to leave, Honor would be expected to do so as well. And Honor perhaps would wish to stay. Possibly she still had hopes of becoming the second Lady Fairfax. Even if she had definitely renounced her interest in Michael, part of her Season in London had been lost.And all because of Jane.Honor probably would not have received an invitation to Templeton Hall if it had not been for the betrothal of her cousin to JosephSedgeworth.
Sometime today, Jane decided, she was going to have to talk to Joseph and Honor.And perhaps Michael too.If she were to leave his house, she must speak to him. She could not just leave. And how was she to leave? She and Honor had traveled down in Lord Dart's carriage.The stage?Honor would never agree.
Her eye was suddenly caught by the sight of Fairfax coming toward her along the gravel path. She jumped to her feet in a panic, with some half-formed idea of making her escape before he saw her. But she realized almost immediately that he knew very well she was there. She was his destination. She stood where she was.
"Good morning," he said with an attempt at a smile. He looked as pale as she felt.
Jane said nothing.
"I saw you from the library window," he said. "I
