He smiled and leaned across to kiss her very gently on the cheek.
"Do you not think Percy a handsome boy, Jane?" Honor asked later. She was curled up on her cousin'sbed,her head propped on one hand, watching Jane pack her belongings for their departure the next day.
"Very," Jane said. "And a very pleasant young man too, Honor. Have you added him to your list of conquests?"
Honor giggled. "He tried to kiss me in the garden," she said, "and then spent all of ten minutes reviving me from a fit of the vapors and apologizing profusely. I really felt quite mean. It was mean, was it not, Jane?"
"What?" Jane said. "Is this a new Honor, feeling remorse at breaking a young man's heart?"
"Oh, it cannot be as bad as that," Honor said. "But I could not resist, Jane, when he was making such calf's eyes at me all evening. Of course, that was my fault too. I set my cap at him from the start.Poor boy.What I need,Jane,is an older man of firm convictions who will not put up with my nonsense but force me to behave more sensibly and responsibly."
Jane looked at her cousin suspiciously, her heart slipping to somewhere in the area of her knees. "Fairfax?" she asked.
"Heaven forbid!" Honor said with feeling. "I could never marry anyone so dull, Jane. Though I must confess I deeply regret his good looks. But what is the point of having a handsome husband if he never takes one anywhere that one might show him off?"
"Ah," Jane said. "So this older man is to be a future acquisition, is he?"
"Probably," Honor said. "Did you end your betrothal, Jane?"
Jane paused in her packing and looked at her cousin, her face troubled. "Yes," she said. She looked down again too late to see Honor's eyes light up.
"Was he very upset, Jane?" she asked.
"It is hard to say," Jane said. "He is so thoroughly the gentleman, Honor.With the emphasis on 'gentle.'"
"What did he say?"
Jane smiled. "Nothing that was not thoroughly noble," she said. "He wishes to write to me, Honor, and to retain me as a friend."
"Does he?" Honor said. "Jane, you did not tell me earlier why you decided to break off your engagement and leave here in such a hurry."
Jane shrugged. "Sometimes these things are hard to explain," she said. "Perhaps I would not be happy with his way of life; Honor. I do not believe I would like to live without a settled home. And I do not think Joseph would want children. I could not be married and not want babies of my own."
"You should marry Fairfax," Honor said carelessly. "He would probably want to do nothing but give you babies."
Jane hid her blushes by bending low over her valise as if to rearrange its contents. "Yes, I should," she said lightly. "Will you be glad to leave, Honor? There is not much for you here, is there, now that you are no longer interested in the viscount."
"Oh, I don't know," Honor said airily. "I could always try to fix Mr.Sedgeworth'sinterest now that he is free again. If we were staying, that is."
Jane laughed. "Poor Joseph," she said. "I do not think he would approve of your type of flirtation one little bit, Honor. Shall we go to bed? We are facing two days on the road, and I have no idea what the quality of the inns might be where the mail coach will drop us off. We must sleep as much as we can tonight."
Jane closed her bags when Honor was gone and undressed for bed without summoning a maid. She did not believe she would be able to take her own advice. She would not sleep a wink tonight. She had severed her connection with Joseph already. It only remained to say good-bye to Michael and the children tomorrow morning. And then she would be gone.Forever.She would probably never set eyes on one of them ever again. And she was not going to dwell on it now. There had been enough of emotion in her life in the last few days. She had made her choices, and now she must learn to live by then. At least she would have memories. Many spinsters did not even have that much to make life tolerable.
She pulled back the curtains and opened one of the windows. She climbed wearily into bed and stared up at the canopy above her head, dimly visible in the moonlight. She would have Joseph's letters to look forward to. She did not think that he would neglect to write to her. He was a man of his word. She would be able to read about his travels. She would feel she had one interesting and dear friend outside the confines of her own neighborhood. And sometimes he would surely mention Michael and his daughters. She would know when he married again, and she would be able to follow the girls' growing up. It would be something. Perhaps he would not remarry. Perhaps she would never have to live through that painful news.
Jane slept very soon after lying down.
She woke up suddenly, feeling that something had woken her. She listened intently. A hand shook her shoulder again. She turned her head sharply, to find herself looking into a pair of eyes on a level with her own.
"Aunt Jane," Amy said. A sob followed the words.
Jane turned sharply onto her side and sat up. "Amy, sweetheart, what is the matter?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"
"Aunt Jane," the child wailed, and began to cry in earnest. She was standing barefoot in a long white nightgown, her hair hanging loose about her face and reaching to below her shoulders.
Jane swung her legs over the side of the bed and gathered the child into her arms. She felt like little more than a baby. "What is the matter, sweetheart?" shesaid,her mouth against the girl's hair. "Oh, you are cold. Come under the blankets for a minute and get warm. Then you shall tell me whatis the matter. Is Claire sleeping?"
The child nodded and pressed herself against Jane, crying her heart out. Jane covered her warmly with the blankets and held her close until the sobsquietenedto the occasional involuntary gasp and shudder.
