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Her mother gave her a sympathetic look. She was sitting on the sofa with a book on her knee, and even though she had been in that position since Jane’s father had left, she had yet to turn a single page.

“Quite right, my dear.” In contrast to her mother, Aunt Millward had been turning pages faster than ever in the book she was holding. Since it was a pictorial book of flowers that required virtually no concentration, however, it was understandable. Jane was fairly sure that her aunt was moving the pages just because it gave her something to do. “A change of scenery may be helpful.”

“I can go with you to your room, if you would like.” Phoebe looked up from her needlework hopefully.

“Thank you, Phoebe, but I think I should like to be alone.” With her cane in hand, Jane walked to the door. It was just as well that the women assumed she was going to her bedchamber. Jane did not wish to spend any time or energy justifying her decision. It was made, and she would not be held back.

“There will surely be word soon,” her mother called after her, but as she’d said the same thing only ten minutes before, Jane did not feel the need to respond.

She walked across the main hall. Gresham was standing at the front door, monitoring the comings and goings of all the servants. His face was grave, and his instructions succinct. Urgency hummed in the air.

“I need my cloak and a lantern, if you please, Gresham.”

For a split second, the butler’s eyes reflected concern at her request, but his training quickly came to the fore. “Yes, Miss Hadford. I’ll have them for you right away.”

A servant girl was sent off at a run, and less than three minutes later, Jane was on her way to the stable, a heavy woolen cloak over her shoulders and a flickering lamp in her hand.

Up until this moment, she’d had no occasion to enter the stable at Charwell Park, but she knew that her father had transferred all the family mounts from their house in Yorkshire. She’d not owned a horse since her accident, but Phoebe had a pretty gray mare, and Jane was quite confident that she could handle her.

Leaning on her cane, she pushed open the door, and a young groom hurried out from a nearby stall.

“Miss Hadford,” he said, stumbling to a halt.

Jane limped inside and set the lantern on a nearby bench. “Saddle up my sister’s horse,” she said, sparing no time for niceties or explanations. “I wish to leave immediately.”

“Yes, miss.” The young groom backed up a few paces, then turned and jogged into a stall on the far side of the stable.

He returned moments later, leading the mare. Jane waited until the horse was right beside her, then she reached up and ran her hand down the mare’s long neck. “It’s Aria, is it not?”

“Yes, miss.” The groom was already gathering the horse’s tack.

“And your name?”

“Tom, miss.”

She nodded, allowing the mare to sniff her hand. “I am placing my trust in you, Aria.” The horse snorted, and Jane took an unsteady breath. Mounting a horse again after all this time had seemed much easier when she was in the drawing room. She closed her eyes, blocking out the images of the last horse she’d ridden and picturing Asher’s face instead. “He needs me,” she whispered. “I can do this. Asher needs me.”

“She’s ready, Miss Hadford.” The groom had worked fast. Jane took another breath and opened her eyes to see him setting a mounting block beside her.

“I may need your assistance,” she said.

“Of course, miss.”

She handed Tom her cane, and leaning on his arm, she slowly stepped up the block. Aria shifted, and Jane’s heart began to pound. Calm. She needed to be calm, or the horse would sense her anxiety. Her wide skirts would put her at a disadvantage, but she no longer owned a habit, so she would have to make the best of it.

“Steady, Aria,” she said, reaching for the pommel.

The horse stilled, but Jane’s legs were beginning to shake. Think of Asher. She breathed. Think of Asher.

“Whenever you’re ready, miss.”

Resolve replaced fear. This was what she must do. “Now,” she said.

With a slight boost from the groom, Jane pulled herself into the sidesaddle. Pain shot down her leg as she shifted into place. It had been years, but her position came naturally. She reached for the leather straps.

“Hand me the lantern, Tom.”

The groom passed her the light. Habit drew her eyes to the cane lying against the bench, but with an unexpected sense of release, she turned away from it.