"Only a little bit," Amy said. "Did Aunt Jane think I was drowning?"
"Yes," he said. "She dived in to save you." He lifted the towel from her shoulders and began to rub vigorously at her hair. "Let us get you as dry as we can, Jane, and back to the house before you take a chill. That was a very brave thing to do. Thank you, love." Perhaps he was unaware of the fact that he kissed her cheek as he said the words.
Jane pushed away from him and took the towel from his hands. "I made an utter fool of myself," she said. "I might have known Amy was safe. How could I have helped her anyway? I would have drowned us both." She hid her face in the towel as she rubbed at her hair. She began to shiver.
"Were those shrieks ones of enjoyment or fright?" a voice called from out on the water.
"Jane!" Honor shrieked. "You are soaked. You fell in. Oh, do pull in to the bank, Joseph."
Jane had recovered sufficiently to rather wish that she could fall back into the lake and never come to the surface again. Soon she had three adults fussing around her, one child crying for some reason, and another standing silent and round-eyed with a thumb in her mouth.
"Sedge," Fairfax said, "Jane is soaked and has no dry clothes here. You must get her back to the house immediately. Miss Jamieson can come with us when we have dried off."
Jane's teeth were chattering. She had scrambled to her feet. "Oh, my dear, whatever happened?"Sedgeworthsaid, pulling off his coat to wrap around her. "Come. I shall have you back at the house in no time at all." His arm was warm and strong about her.
"I shall r-ruin your c-coat," she said, allowing him to lead her down to the boat and help her inside.
"Nonsense," he said. "We will leave my valet to worry about that." He untied the boat, climbed in, and took the oars.
"Here," Fairfax said, kneeling on the bank and reaching across to Jane. "Take my coat too, love, to put over your knees.And the towel to wrap around your head.Away you go, Sedge. There are two large blankets in the boathouse that we use for sitting ononthe beach. Wrap Jane in one of those when you reach the shore."
Sedgeworthgave his friend a long and measured look before giving his attention to getting Jane to a warm house and dry clothes as quickly as possible.
Jane felt all the humiliation of having to face the exclamations and concern of Lord Dart and his family when the boat reached the shore. She felt very stupid. It was all just punishment for the fantasy she had been living out on the island, she thought. It was an afternoon she would remember for the rest of her life indeed! She recalled with deep mortification the way she had clutched at Fairfax and coughed and wheezed and sputtered all over him. She must have left bruises behind. How would she ever face him again even to say good-bye?
The thought sobered her considerably. She looked up into Joseph's eyes as he came rushing from the boat-house to wrap her warmly in a heavy blanket that smelled faintly musty. He put one arm firmly around her despite the audience that was dispensing sympathy and advice from close by.
"Take her straight to the house, Joseph," his sister advised unnecessarily. "And be sure that Mrs. Pringle prepares some hot milk for her.And a hot bath."
Jane allowed her head to drop wearily to his shoulder as they walked. "Joseph," she said, "I have ruined your afternoon and everyone else's."
He tightened his arm around her but said nothing.
She began to cry again and seemed powerless to stop herself. "Joseph," she said, "I am so very miserable."
"I know, Jane," he said, laying his cheek against the top of her head. "Don't worry about it now. We will talk later. Don't worry about it, dear."
She felt comforted and mortally dejected all at the same time.
Chapter Fourteen
Fairfax doodled with a dry quill pen on the leather of his desktop in the library. He should be on his way upstairs to get ready for dinner, as his guests had done fully half an hour before. They were even expecting outside visitors that night. He must be ready to receive them.
His mind was still not calm after the scolding he had been forced to give Amy when they arrived home. He hated having to be angry with his children. He had never hit either one of them and knew that they could never do anything so bad that he would do so. But occasionally he had to scold and punish. He would not be fulfilling his obligation to help them grow into mature ladies if he did not. But he derived as much pain and misery from the ordeals as they did, he was sure.
She should have known better already. She probably did. She had been upset at the time and not acting as she normally would, he supposed. She had been crying over Jane's mishap, blaming herself after realizing that Jane had been trying to save her. And even the child must have realized the good sense of sending Jane home with Sedge instead of forcing her to wail while they dried themselves and changed into dry clothes.
But she had not acted as if she had known. "I want Aunt Jane to come with us," she had wailed as Sedge rowed the boat away from the bank.
"Aunt Jane is going with Uncle Joe," he had said firmly. "We will see them back at the house. Run and get yourself a towel, poppet."
"I don't wantherto come with us," Amy had said fully within Miss Jamieson's hearing, "I want Aunt Jane."
"Amy," he had said in the tone that his daughters usually did not argue with, or anyone else for that matter, "go and get a towel now, my girl, and not another word from you."
"I don't want to," she had wailed. "I want Aunt Jane."
He had taken her then firmly by the arm and marched her at a brisk pace over to the towels and dry clothes. She had screamed with mingled rage and fright. "Hush now, Amy," he had commanded. "Be a good girl for Papa and dress quickly. You do not need help, do you? I have to help Claire. We will talk about this at the house."
