III
ParadiseReclaimed
NEW YORK 1876
51
Fall had come early to New York City. As Jane hurried across Fifth Avenue, her cheeks were stung red from the new nip in the air. Already the big oaks lining the park were turning, their leaves red and gold. Squirrels were already gathering their winter provisions, scurrying amid the trees. The sky was blue and cloudless, the sun shining with faded brilliance. An early snow was in the air. Jane did not pause to admire the scene.
In fact, never had her spirits been so low.
Oh, God, she thought again, for the dozenth time, how will I deal with this as well?
It had been hard enough leaving England, hard enough leaving him. Yet she had had no choice. To stay in London as his mistress—the obvious solution—would have been to die a slow death. Loving him so thoroughly, Jane could not share him with another woman—worse, with the woman he had loved once and so completely before herself. Having been his wife, Jane could not now be only his mistress.
She had not meant to leave so abruptly, nor had she meant to go to America. She had gone with Molly and Nicole to the little house on Gloucester Street, numb and shocked, not even able to cry. The house was empty, barren, offering no sense of warmth or coziness. Jane had stood in the parlor amid the rolled-up rugs and covered furniture, everything so immaculate and bare with all her personal treasures gone, and she’d known she could not stay. If she stayed, she would succumb to Nicholas. If he begged her to be his mistress, she would not be able to deny him. She had never been able to deny him. She had decided to go to Paris.
And, of course, she needed money.
At her urgent message, Lindley had come instantly. And it was Lindley who persuaded her to go to New York, not France, with him, as he was on his way there for a business trip. He had been planning on leaving in ten days. Jane had told him she would go—provided they left that day, or the next, on the first available ship. She could only guess that he had agreed because he really did love her, and he wanted to get her away from Nicholas as quickly and surely as possible.
Jane hurried into the Regency Hotel on Sixth Avenue. She was not overwhelmed by the huge marble columns, the high frescoed ceilings, the vast crystal chandeliers, or the endless Persian rugs. She had become accustomed to such grandeur. As she hurried up the stairs to their adjoining suites, a refrain repeated itself in her head.
Should she tell him?
Should she tell Lindley? And what about Nicholas?
God, how she missed Nicholas!
Her heart was broken, yet every day she was faced with an onslaught of fresh, raw pain, despite the passage of the past month. This time, she knew, she would never recover from Nicholas’s love.
Jane entered her own suite, throwing down her packages. She’d been shopping. She had just sat down on the sofa when the polished mahogany door attaching her living room to Lindley’s opened, and Jonathon came in. “Jane! I’ve been worried! You said you’d be back hours ago.”
She barely looked at him. “I took a long walk in the park.”
“A long walk?” He was skeptical. Then he came and sat beside her. “What’s wrong? You look like hell.”
She abruptly made the decision to tell him and blurted, “I’m pregnant!”
He stared, shocked.
Jane felt the tears rising. “Damn, damn, damn!” she cursed, not caring. Then she was instantly contrite. “Oh, I take it back, of course I want his baby!”
“I don’t believe it,” Lindley breathed.
“He must know,” Jane said, her heart wrenching with the memory of how she had denied him Nicole. “I must tell him. I will write him a letter.”
“No! He’ll come after you!”
Jane looked at him sadly. “I won’t write him today, Jon. In a few months, when he no longer wants me, then I will send him a note.”
Lindley opened his mouth, then closed it. He touched her shoulder, rubbing it. “What can I do?”
“Nothing.” Her smile was small, rueful.
“Do you want to cancel supper tonight?”
Jane regarded him, her heart twisting with worry. They were to dine tonight at Rathe Bragg’s. Rathe was Nicholas’s brother. He was, of course, friendly with Lindley, having met him numerous times when he was in London visiting his brother. Lindley and Rathe had bumped into each other one day at lunch at a men’s club, and Rathe had invited Lindley to have dinner with him and his new wife, Grace. Jane had not wanted to go. Of course, Rathe did not know she had been his brother’s mistress and was the mother of his child. Still, Jane wanted to stay away from him, sensing danger in the relationship, even if it was only a casual acquaintance. But Lindley talked her into it. Just one evening with nice people, Jane, he had said, you deserve it, and she had gone. Unfortunately, or fortunately, she and Grace had instantly become fast friends. Now, two weeks later, Grace knew everything there was to know about Jane, as Jane did about Grace, so rapidly had their friendship grown. Except Grace only knew that there had been a big love in London—not that it was her brother-in-law. Jane had not told her anything about her relationship with Nicholas, carefully avoiding that period of her life. Jane knew that both Rathe and Grace thought her to be Lindley’s mistress—and they were both utterly charming about it.
