“I warned her. She dinna heed me warnin’s,” mourned an Irish voice from somewhere near the end of the bed.
“That’s enough, Mrs. O'Rourke,” snapped Lady Elsbeth over her shoulder. Then she turned back to Jane, gently pushing fine strands of black hair away from her face. "That woman—Sophie? She’s convinced it was a form of release for him. She says Georgie couldn’t reconcile his rough and crude existence with the knowledge of his better blood. He felt he should have naturally been refined and well-spoken. It tore at him that he could not rise above the circumstances of his upbringing; that his mother, having all the advantages in the world, could give him away as easily as one would a cast-off dress or jacket. I know he planned to present himself to his mother dressed and accoutered as befitted her station. He believed dress made the man. In the end, he would have been bitterly disappointed. I shudder to think what he might have done when that happened.”
Jane nodded, then swallowed around the lump in her throat. "It is hard to believe he had all that in him when one considers the bluff, hearty gentleman he played.”
“Throughout history, it has always been the same. Those who would act the buffoon for others' enjoyment are generally people lacking joy in their own lives. Perhaps that’s what always gives the piquant flavor of truth to their antics, a sort of larger-than-life hopelessness that lessens our own.”
Jane nodded listlessly. "But that still doesn’t excuse his death.‘Any man’s death diminishes me.’He did not deserve to die.”
Lady Elsbeth leaned back, her hands folded in her lap. "Now that will be enough maudlin missishness. I beg you to remember he was not beyond doing violence to you to achieve his ends,” she said sternly.
“I suppose,” Jane conceded, absently plucking at the sheet. Her lips twisted as she thought over the events of yesterday. "What time is it?” she asked suddenly, her expression serious.
Lady Elsbeth looked down at the pendant watch pinned to her bodice. "Almost one-thirty. Why?”
“One-thirty? In the afternoon?” Jane threw off the bed covers. "You must have been heavy-handed with the laudanum! Why did you give it to me? You know how I hate the stuff. And don’t try to deny that you did, for I won’t believe you! I heard you last night. At least, I think I did,” she amended as she levered herself up to a sitting position.
Lady Elsbeth thought it wise to ignore Jane’s questions. "What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Getting up.” She swung her legs to the floor.
“Jane! I’m not convinced that is wise. You have been through a terrible ordeal!”
“Elsbeth, I cannot put off maudlin missishness, as you call it if I am relegated to this bed. Besides, I have business with the true author of this little fiasco."
Lady Elsbeth sighed and stood away from the bed to let Mrs. O'Rourke help Jane into her wrapper. "I’m afraid you’ll not get satisfaction there. I don’t know how, but she feels entirely justified in her actions. How can one chastise another if that other sees no wrong? I have tried. All I get from her is how she wished to free me.”
“Free you? I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” Lady Elsbeth said grimly. "But, if you insist on getting up, I’ll order you something to eat.”
“Fine, only I want coffee, not tea.”
“Now Jane, an herbal tea?—”
“No,” Jane said, laughing. "I know you swear by your herbals, but please, I’d prefer coffee.”
“All right, coffee,” her aunt grumbled, pursing her lips in displeasure. But she couldn’t keep the expression long. Her lips began to twitch, and soon she was laughing with her niece. "I crycraven! Mrs. O'Rourke, please order Jane something to eat with coffee!”
“Laugh if ye will, but know it is the devil’s oon work afoot. And that trickiest of tricksters, he’s not done yet, mark me words.”
They watched the Irish woman shuffle toward the door muttering words and curses.
“Seriously, what are we to do about Serena?” Elsbeth asked once Mrs. O’Rourke was safely out of the room.
“I don’t know, though I would very much like to know what is behind her little machinations.”
“I wouldn’t call kidnapping you and nearly forcing you into a distasteful marriage ‘little!’ But neither can I keep her locked in a storeroom indefinitely.”
Jane laughed. "Elsbeth! Is that where she is?”
“Yes. I locked her in yesterday. And it isn’t a storeroom. I locked her upstairs in that disused antechamber at the end of the hall. I understand from the servants who have taken her food that she has stripped the furniture of Holland covers and made herself comfortable, though she is calling down all manner of curses upon your head.”
“My head?”
“As you would call her the author of this fiasco, so she would call you,” Elsbeth said dryly.
Jane sighed. "I suppose you’re correct.” She went to the wardrobe and pulled out a green spring muslin dress, ornamented with pale pumpkin braid and yellow embroidery. She held it out in front of her, turning from side to side as she judged its effect in the tall mirror. "I feel as if I should wear black. However, under the circumstances, I don’t wish to dress the Ice Witch part. Spring is much more in keeping. What of Conisbrough and Royce?”
