“After that, Dorian took a little house for us in Portsmouth and visited regularly. He would tell me of all his adventures in London while dandling Charlotte on his knee, and I would laugh. It wasn’t a world I wanted to be part of, but I could see it suited him well enough.”
“It is not really my world either but I know he has many friends,” Rose remarked. “He charms everyone in London and the whole world likes Dorian Voss.”
“Many friends, yes,” Jane nodded with a raised eyebrow. “But no one who loves him, except us. I think sometimes that was part of why Dorian came looking for my mother and I too, even if he didn’t know it. We all need to be loved, don’t we?”
Except us.Was Jane including Rose among the people who loved Dorian? Or only herself and little Charlotte?
“Did you marry again?” Rose asked, intending to change the subject harmlessly and not have to talk about love, although it had once been her favorite subject.
Jane shook her head.
“No, I only expected to marry,” she sighed, touching her belly again. “You will likely be shocked, Rose, but I shall not lie to you. I met another handsome sailor in Portsmouth and when he told me the most fantastic stories, I believed every word. Even after what happened to my mother, perhaps I believed that all men were like Luke or Dorian. They are not.”
“He left you in that condition?” inquired Rose falteringly, having learned enough in Dorian’s bed and the Ravenhill House library to ask the question.
Jane gave a resigned nod and short laugh.
“Yes. I believe Dorian would have horsewhipped him if he could have laid hands on Owen Gaskell – that was his name – but he was already on a ship bound for South America and nothing to be done about it.”
“How awful! What a terrible man!” Rose exclaimed in sympathy, already on Jane’s side for Dorian’s sake, regardless of any transgression on her part. “I should have horsewhipped him too, if I could!”
Rose knew that much of society would have condemned Jane, but having lived some months with Dorian as companion, she was beginning to see the world from his perspective more than that of the ton. The unfairness of events roused her wrath on Jane’s behalf.
“So, you see, I am now not quite respectable on two counts, both for my own birth and for the child I carry. I could not let Dorian take us to Ravenhill House so he brought us here to keep me safe from wagging tongues in Portsmouth. When I am delivered, we will move somewhere new and I will only be Mrs. Chatham, another widow with two children.”
“Mrs. Chatham,” Rose repeated, as a realization came to her. “‘Mrs. Chatham, a woman of my close acquaintance with whom there can be no question of impropriety…’ Dorian mentioned you once when I asked about his correspondence. He did not explain and I thought he was talking of some elderly family retainer or similar.”
Jane took Rose’s hand and squeezed it in sisterly solidarity while shaking her head with a chagrined smile.
“Men! Is that any way to introduce anyone, I ask you? Now, what about you, Your Grace?” the other woman asked. “What brought you out here today to a house you suspected was empty?”
Rose took a deep breath and stroked the hair of the little girl who was still leaning against her and singing softly to her doll.
“I thought I could understand Dorian better if I knew more of him,” she attempted to explain. “He went to London and has not come home for weeks but I don’t understand why. We have not argued and I thought we were happy together, even though our marriage was not a love match. He was not even angry. I do not think there was another woman. He just went…”
Jane Chatham looked at her with compassion.
“You thought you could learn more of Dorian from his childhood home?”
Rose nodded, knowing that probably sounded silly.
“I did. I did not know where else to start and I cannot stay at Ravenhill House and do nothing. I miss him.”
She bit her lip so that she might not cry again and upset the child who had now moved to play with her doll before the fire. It was so painful, confusing and perhaps trivial compared to all that Jane Chatham had been through.
“Tell me how you met Dorian,” Jane suggested and Rose welcomed this simple probing that did not seem to press too hard on her present bruised feelings. “I heard his side but would like to hear yours too.”
“What did he say of me?” Rose asked eagerly before she could stop herself.
“Dorian said you were the sweetest and loveliest woman he has ever met, and that you were happy together. It does not entirely surprise me that he has run away… But, I’m running away with myself now. Do tell me the story of your meeting before anything else."
“We were at Ashbourne Castle, at the same house party. The duke is an old friend of Dorian’s and the duchess is one of my best friends. I tried to avoid him at first after hearing all the tales people told. He tried to charm me along with everyone else but I would not even dance with him.”
“‘The Wolf of West London,’” Jane laughed, pronouncing the nickname with comic effect. “Yet, Dorian is far more civilized than most of those who judge him.”
Rose nodded her agreement.
“I know that now. Then, I did not understand…anything. We met by chance in the garden during the ball on the final night of the party and he mistook me for someone else.”
