Claire had trailed after them, eyes solemn, thumb in mouth. "Amy cry?" she had asked. "Papacross?"
He had hugged her before toweling her and putting on her dry clothes. She had put her arms around his neck and kissed him wetly on the mouth. "Papa not cross with Amy," she had coaxed.
But he had been cross. He had had to walk over to where Miss Jamieson stood on the bank looking out across the lake, her parasol twirling above her head, and try to explain.
"Please pardon Amy's rudeness," he had said. "She was very upset. Jane dived in thinking she was drowning, you see, and Amy feels responsible. She forgot her good manners in the process."
"Oh, think no more of it," the girl had said airily. "I do not know how Jane does it, but she can always win the trust of children without even trying. I can't. But then, Jane loves children, and I think them horrid little nuisances most of the time. And now I have been unpardonably rude." She had laughed gaily. "Forgive me, please."
But that had not been the end of the matter. When they had got into the boat, Amy had refused to sit beside Miss Jamieson and had insisted on sitting at the bottom of the boat between his feet. Short of making a scene in which he sensed Amy would have begun screaming, he could do nothing. Claire had sat solemnly on Miss Jamieson's lap, but she had sat upright and silent, not snuggling against this girl as she did with Jane.
And so he had been forced to follow the children to the nursery as soon as he had ascertained that Jane was lying down resting, on the insistence of Mrs. Pringle andSedgeworth. Amy, alone at her painting had cried as soon as she saw him and all the way to her room as he led her there by the hand. And there he had been forced to talk severely to her, knowing that the child was miserable and already punishing herself. And he had been forced to punish her so that she would know that such rudeness to a guest was a serious breach of the sort of behavior he expected of her. He had sentenced her to an evening spent alone in her room, dinner to be eaten in lone state, no painting or other amusement allowed.
And she was four years old! Sometimes it was hard to realize that. She was such a quiet, solemn child that she seemed older. And Claire's existence did not help. One tended to forget that the elder child was herself little more than a baby. He had to force himself now to sit doodling invisible patterns in order to prevent himself from going up to Amy's room again and telling her that an hour was long enough and she was free to go back to the nursery. Or from going to the kitchen and begging some treat from Cook to take up to his daughter. He hated having to punish.
He threw the quill pen aside and got to his feet. He wished to heaven he had never met Miss Jane Matthews. Why had he gone to that infernal ball of Aunt Hazel's? He had not wanted to go. And but for the accident of their meeting there, he doubted that he would have met her at all. He had not considered her beautiful when they first met—though how he could not have done so escaped his understanding now—and possibly would not have noticed her had he not been forced to do so. But of course he would have been attracted to thatninnyhammerof a cousin of hers under any circumstances, and through her he would have met Jane anyway.And loved her.One could not know Jane and not love her.
Dammit! And he was going to be late for dinner too if he did not rush.Just after he had been lecturing Amy on the good manners due a guest in one's home.
Honor was flirting quite outrageously with Percival Beasley and behaving forall theworld as if she did not have a brain in her head. Jane would have felt quite sorry for the poor boy if she had not been so relieved on her own account. Apart from having to answer everyone's queries after her health when she came down to the drawing room before dinner, knowing that by now they would all know the full details of her stupidity, she had really escaped quite lightly.
TheBeasleysarrived soon after she came down, and Honor went into action. She was wearing one of the finer of her ball gowns, altogether too elaborate for a dinner in the country, though young Mr. Beasley seemed not to think her appearance inappropriate for the occasion. He was soon stammering out an account of his first year at university to a wide-eyed, admiring Honor. Miss Beasley was gazing at her new acquaintance, the same age as herself, with almost openmouthed awe.
Jane found herself seated betweenSedgeworthand Mrs. Beasley at dinner and listened with grateful attention to the almost ceaseless monologue of the latter. Mrs. Beasley was a large, comfortable-looking woman whose conversation centered almost entirely around her family and the endearing weakness her husband had of giving his money away to beggars.
"But there, my dear Miss Matthews," she said, turning to accept another spoonful of potatoes from a footman, "if we had more money perhaps we would have less love in our family. And where would we be without love? It is the greatest wealth one can possess, you know."
"I am sure you are right, ma'am," Jane agreed.
"Oh, take my word for it, my dear," the matron said. She lowered her voice and leaned closer to murmur confidentially, "Poor Lady Fairfax, you know.Had all the money in the world, dear lady.And as unhappy a person as you would care to meet.Poor dear."
Jane looked at her neighbor, startled.
"I don't believe dear Lord Fairfax was to blame," Mrs. Beasley said, continuing the confidence. "That poor lady could not love, I have always told the reverend.Spoiled as a child, no doubt.Always had everything she asked for and never learned to love.Poor lady.And such beautiful little babies that she could have loved.But there.It might have been different if she had had a boy. Another girl it was, you know. The one that killed her, I mean.Poor lady."
Jane felt uncomfortable and intrigued at the same time. She had never even dreamed of the possibility of Michael's first marriage being anything but perfect. But then Mrs. Beasley could not have known. Not really. She was very probably wrong. How could Susan not have loved Michael?And her two daughters.It was absurd to imagine that she had not. She had been bearing him another child when she died.
Mrs. Beasley turned at that moment to talk to Fairfax on her left at the head of the table, and Jane was free to talk toSedgeworth.
"You look none the worse for your ordeal, Jane," he said. "Did you sleep?"
"I had little choice," she said. "You and Mrs. Pringle positively insisted that I lie down. What else was there to do but sleep?"
He chuckled. "Were we really such tyrants?" he asked. "If there is a chance later, Jane, shall we walk in the garden? We need to talk, do we not? And I believe we will both sleep easier tonight if we do not postpone it until tomorrow."
He knew, then. She had thought that afternoon that perhaps he had misunderstood and thought she was miserable merely over her wet state. But he knew. And he was still treating her with courtesy and even affection. Dear Joseph. Was she going to hurt him terribly? She knew he did not love her. Not in the way that a man can love a woman, anyway. But he had wanted to marry her. And from what he and Michael had said, it seemed that he had never thought of marriage before, had intended never to marry. She was really going to confirm him in his bachelorhood now.
She smiled warily. "Yes, you are right, Joseph," she said.
But it was much later in the evening before they could politely leave the gathering. There was music first in the music room and then charades in the drawing room. The latter was Honor's idea, of course, but theBeasleysgreeted it with loud enthusiasm. Honor, with Percival Beasley on her team, won by a narrow margin, but only becauseSedgeworth, the leader of the other team, seemed preoccupied, as Honor was loud in admitting herself.
"Go and fetch a shawl,"Sedgeworthsaid to Jane eventually, when Fairfax had sent for the tea tray. "It may be cool outside by now. Jane and I are going to stroll in the garden for a while," he explained to the gathering.
"I say," young Mr. Beasley said, "what a perfectly splendid idea. Would you care to take a turn about the garden too, Miss Jamieson?"
"How delightful!" she exclaimed, fluttering her eyelashes at the young man. "Of course, I would be afraid to venture out at night without a gentleman to protect me. But with you, sir, I shall feel quite safe."
Sedgeworthcould not prevent a secret smile, though he was not feeling particularly amused. He led Jane to the west side of the house, where there was a large rose garden, and was somewhat relieved to see a determined Honor leading her admirer into the formal gardens. The young pup was probably congratulating himself on his great good fortune.
