Lady Jane Read online

  But the woman seemed immune to charm. She stepped back and made a small, economical motion with her head to indicate that Jane should enter. She closed the door carefully, and moved past Jane to waddle ponderously up the hall. There was nothing for Jane to do but follow.

  After knocking softly on a door, the woman opened it and announced, “Here’s the girl, Mrs. Plummer.”

  She turned and motioned Jane to enter and came in after her. Jane was confronted with another elderly lady seated before a fire mending linen. The woman finished setting a very small careful stitch before looking Jane up and down with her faded blue eyes. There was no hostility in her glance, but there was a certain guardedness in her expression, as though determined to give nothing away.

  Jane came forward and bobbed her a polite curtsy, and again smiled. “You’re Mrs. Plummer? I’m Jane Coombes. You’ll be the housekeeper?”

  “Yes. And this is Mrs. McKirk, the cook. She’ll show you to your room. It’s just down the hall. We’re all in this wing. Are you hungry?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am, very peckish, ’deed. Must be all the fresh air in these parts, but it seems hours since me breakfast.”

  “Very well. Mrs. McKirk will give you something and then you can go to your room and change before I take you to m’lady.”

  “Change? What should I change to, ma’am?”

  “I’ve put out a gown and apron in your room from the last girl we had. You’re of a size, I think, so it should fit you.”

  Mrs. Plummer turned back to her torn bed sheet dismissively, and Jane turned as she heard Mrs. McKirk opening the door. What was the matter with these folks, anyway, she wondered? They acted for all the world as though they grudged her a few words, not to speak of a smile or a friendly look. If I’m to be takin’ all the work off their backs, seems like they should show a little more friendly than this, she thought resentfully.

  But she couldn’t quarrel with the generosity of the portion of cold sliced ham and bread and butter Mrs. McKirk set before her. Evidently they didn’t begrudge food, so she wouldn’t starve at any rate.

  The room she was taken to when she’d polished off every last crumb of her meal was not in any way like the room she’d shared at the Montmorency’s. It was fair-sized and had a large window through which the afternoon sun streamed cheerfully. The bed, when she bounced on it experimentally, promised comfort and the linen was clean.

  She hung her gown and pelisse on pegs behind a curtain in the corner and put on the dark blue gown. It was somewhat tight across the bosom, but otherwise fit fairly well. There was a white cap and apron and when she had the costume on, she returned to the kitchen to await Mrs. Plummer’s summons.

  She heard a bell tinkle presently from the hall outside the kitchen and jumped up nervously, smoothing down her apron and checking her cap. This would be m’lady, no doubt. Will I suit? Will she be as kind as her sister?

  She heard Mrs. Plummer’s steps in the hallway and went eagerly to the door. When Mrs. Plummer saw her she motioned Jane to follow and turned to go up the hall to the front of the house.

  But before they reached the doorway that obviously led to the front, Mrs. Plummer turned aside and went up the backstairs.

  Above stairs, the broad, carpeted hallway was dim and silent, lined with closed doors. Jane half-expected to hear the sound of the little boy laughing, or even crying, but it was as still and hushed as a cathedral.

  Lady Payton’s apartment was at the very front of the house overlooking the drive. When they were bid to enter, Jane gaped at the elegance of the room before her, all furnished in white and gold and blue silk Lady Payton lay on a chaise before the deep windows with a book in her hand, and as she looked up inquiringly, a small honey-coloured bundle of fur that had been nestled beside her erupted from the chaise and leaped down, barking ferociously.

  Jane backed away in terror, but Mrs. Plummer only reached down, lifted the dog in her arms, and put her hand around its muzzle. “Here’s the young person, m’lady.”

  “Oh yes, Jane Coombes. Welcome to Larkwoods, child.”

  “Oh—thank you, m’lady,” Jane said, giving her a deep curtsy and a large grin in return for the kindest words she’d heard since she’d arrived.

  Lady Payton smiled back warmly, though her heart sank when she saw how pretty the girl was. This one won’t last even as long as the others, she thought, with no young men around to flirt with. Such a girl would be used to a lot of attention.

  “I’m afraid you’ll find us very dull here after London,” she said, resignation tinging her voice, for it would be nice, she thought, to have this pretty child to liven up the household.

  “Oh, not to worry, m’lady, I shall find plenty to do. This is a very big house to have the cleanin’ of, and then I can help with the poor little boy.”

  Lady Payton stared at her speechlessly for a moment, trying to cope with her bewilderment. She turned to Mrs. Plummer, but saw immediately that there was no enlightenment to be had from that quarter, for Mrs. Plummer looked as totally befuddled as Lady Payton felt “Coombes, I’m afraid dear Caroline did not explain to you your duties. You will not be required to clean. We have women come in every day from the village for that. What you will be doing is taking care of me.”

  “Oh, m’lady!” Jane gasped, “do you mean I’m to be your abigail?”

  “Well, yes, though of course I go about very little, so I’m afraid it will be more in the nature of waiting on me.”

  Jane could only stare at her, eyes like saucers, speechless with happiness at this unexpected rise in status that was being handed to her. From backstairs maid to lady’s maid in one step! Why, she’d be almost on a par with the housekeeper in the servants’ hall. If only her mam were alive to know this glory.

  The glow of self-importance combined with the determination to justify Lady Payton’s trust in her, filled her mind to the exclusion of all else for the first few days. She was awake every morning long before it was necessary, and waiting in the kitchen for Lady Payton to ring for her morning chocolate. After that she helped her into a morning robe, brushed her hair and helped arrange it, and cleaned the room. Later she carried up m’lady’s breakfast tray, for Lady Payton never left her room in the mornings. On some days, when she was not feeling well, for she suffered from heart spasms, she kept to her room all day. But when she felt well enough, she dressed and came down in the early afternoon to read, or play the pianoforte, or receive a visit from a friend who lived nearby, and seemed to be her only caller, Miss Angela Gilbert, daughter of the parson.

  In the late afternoon Lady Payton went to her room to change for dinner, which she ate in solitary splendour, attended by Jane. Jane supposed the invalid son to be either away or too ill to leave his room. She could not bring herself to ask, for at any mention of him Lady Payton’s eyes would become sad, and sometimes she would whisper “Poor Sebastian,” in such heartrending tones that Jane would feel the tears start in her own eyes.

  Neither did she feel that she could ask Mrs. Plummer or Mrs. McKirk. They were still as unbending and cool to her as they had been on her first day, and Jane was too proud to push her friendship on them. She had tried to be nice, now they must come to her, she thought defiantly. It may be they’re jealous that I’m young and strong and close to the mistress all the time. Well, let them be, they’ll not have the satisfaction of seem they bother me! She was not, however, rude or pert to them, feeling that such behaviour was not consummate with her new dignity. She maintained a cool courtesy at all times.

  When Lady Payton retired for the night, Jane helped her to undress, brushed out her hair again, and helped her into bed. Then she took away the gown to dean and iron it, and the delicate undergarments to wash by hand.

  Another duty that she took upon herself was to walk Lady Payton’s spaniel. She had never been near a dog before in her life, but she found that she liked to play with it and fondle its soft, silky coat.

  Lady Payton, accompanied by Jane, sometimes took the
dog out herself when she felt equal to a walk and if the weather was good, but mostly it fell to Jane to do so. And Wellington, the spaniel, clearly preferred Jane’s company, for she ran with him over the smooth green grass, or threw sticks for him.

  This was her solitary chore today, and she romped over the grass with him breathlessly, both of them infected by the gaiety of the spring day. The wind playfully tossed the new young leaves on the trees and flirted with the crocuses and daffodils in the flower beds, as though trying to say, “Come on then, look alive—it’s spring!”

  It certainly said that to Jane, who was so filled with restless exuberance she couldn’t stand still for a moment, and Wellington obviously felt something, for he galloped around her in circles, ears streaming straight back, positively grinning with happiness. Suddenly he veered out of his circle and went tearing off around the far corner of the house, tossing her a look of mischief over his shoulder before he disappeared, in a clear invitation to catch him if she could. She giggled delightedly and ran after him, only to stop short at the corner.

  There, stretched before her, was the entire wing of the house heretofore unglimpsed. Lord Payton’s rooms—forbidden territory. Gasping for breath after her wild exercise, she peered around the corner in time to see Wellington skitter out of sight beneath a trellised arbor of vines built out over what must be an entryway. The vines were still in very young leaf and sparse enough to allow her to see they covered a flagstone terrace, two shallow steps, and the darkness of an open doorway.

  She stood debating furiously with herself. Should she just go and have a casual peek? Busy and happy in her new duties as she had been this first week, she had not given the little boy more than a passing thought from time to time, mostly just before she fell asleep at night. It had somehow become fixed in her mind that the child must be away from home, perhaps being treated somewhere, for it didn’t seem possible he could be there and never be allowed to visit his mother in her room or come into the rest of the house, unless, of course, he were completely bedridden, in which case his mother would spend most of her time with him, which she did not. Therefore it must be true the boy was away from home. Therefore—there could be no harm in just taking a peek, the very tiniest peek, into that temptingly open doorway beneath the arbor.

  She advanced slowly toward it, calling, “Wellington! Bad dog, come back ’ere!”

  She saw his honey-coloured head nose out of the doorway in response and then immediately disappear again, so obviously playing a game with her that she laughed aloud and lost all her nervousness. She walked boldly up to the doorway and peered inside. After the bright sunlight the room seemed very dark and she could see little at first The first thing to take shape before her eyes was a very large round object in a sort of ornately carved cradle and she was drawn to it without any conscious volition of her own. She stared at it, a blue ball covered with strange shapes in various colours, and reached out a fingertip to touch it tentatively. It moved, causing her to snatch back her finger, but then curiosity overcame caution and she pushed at it lightly. It turned slowly, revealing other odd shapes on its surface. A toy or game of some sort for young master, she thought wonderingly, and pushed it again, harder. It spun around and she giggled softly, before turning away to see what other strange amusements were provided for the children of the rich. She clucked disapprovingly at the wild disarray of papers and books strewn over a long table; not much fun there, she thought pityingly. Cruel, really, to plague the poor sick little fellow with lessons.

  The room was thickly carpeted, the furniture covered in dark red, the walls paneled between shelves of books, everything dark and still, but with a strange air of expectancy, as though only momentarily empty of life. Her eyes were drawn back to the door, a French double door standing full open to the bright day without, framing an enchanting view of velvety grass, rosebeds beyond, and further away the low rolling hills.

  Just to one side of the doorway was a strange long black pole atop three legs—another toy, she supposed. She walked around it curiously, stopping to look into the end pointed out the door, but there was nothing to be made of it—a bit of glass and darkness inside. She moved to the other end and applied her eye—and jumped back in alarm when she saw a life-sized, moving, picture of the old coachman who’d fetched her from Maidstone busily staking rosebushes. With infinite caution she peeked in again, and sure enough, he was there plain as day! She stood up and stared at the contraption with awe.

  Then she heard a low, rippling masculine chuckle that caused her to leap around with a shriek. There, standing in the shadows of a doorway to another room, was the child.

  “Oh, you naughty boy to come on me so sudden like! Nearly the death of me, you was, my heart jumped so!” she gasped.

  He stared at her silently for a full minute, and she studied him nervously, wondering if he’d be angry at her trespass and report her to Lady Payton. He was a full head shorter than herself and seemed very slim, though she could see little of him in the deep gloom of that corner of the room, especially after looking out into the sunlight. His complexion seemed to glow a greeny-white out of the shadows, his eyes only two spots of glitter in dark hollows.

  His silence unnerved her and she finally decided to take matters into her own hands. She bobbed a little curtsy and launched into an explanation of her presence. “I’m sure I beg your pardon for comin’ in like this, m’lord. ’Twere Wellington, you see, the silly creature. He would run away and I came to fetch him. I’m mindin’ him, see, for m’lady, she bein’ poorly. Anyway, I—I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

  He sketched a brief bow in acknowledgment of her apology, but still didn’t speak. Uppity little devil, she thought, her temper flaring suddenly, and as quickly dying as she remembered he was an invalid. Besides, she admonished herself, I’ve to remember my position, and show I’ve some manners even if he hasn’t. She pulled herself up and smiled condescendingly down at him. “I’ll go along now, m’lord, if you’ll excuse me, and leave you to your games.” She raised her voice to call flutingly, “Wellington! Come along now.”

  Wellington chose to ignore this invitation and another long, embarrassing moment of silence ensued. She clearly saw, in spite of the darkness where he stood, Lord Payton’s eyebrow quirk up derisively and felt angry colour warm her face. But before she could react further he snapped his fingers and Wellington appeared as if by magic from the deeper darkness of the room behind Lord Payton and trotted up to Jane. She swooped him up and turned to the door.

  Then for the first time Lord Payton spoke, in a startlingly deep voice that caused her to turn quickly to see who was speaking.

  “That was a telescope, an instrument for seeing things at a great distance. I take it you’ve never seen one before?”

  She shook her head speechlessly. It was the boy speaking, she thought confusedly, for she could see his mouth moving and there was no one else there, but it was a disconcerting voice for a boy. Then he was moving slowly toward her, and as he came into the light from the doorway his face eerily transposed itself before her very eyes from a child’s to a man’s.

  It was a harsh, strong face, the cheekbones jutting almost cruelly against the thin, taut skin, lines deeply etched into the forehead and from nose to mouth. His eyes glowed with a feverish brilliance from deep, shadowed hollows and his mouth was a grim line. However, it was not an unhandsome face, for all its evidence of suffering. The incongruity was in the size of the head, too large for the thin, childish neck and the slight, boy’s body.

  Jane, brought up among servants trained never to betray feelings, was able to look him squarely in the eye with a blank, noncommittal stare. Her mind, however, was a chaotic jumble of flashing thoughts and emotions, few of which had to do with his appearance. Rather, she was rapidly running through her mind all that she had said to him under the illusion she was addressing a child, and whether he would be angry enough at her for so addressing him as to ask his mother to get rid of her. Had she—dear God, had she—
called him a naughty boy when he first came to the doorway? Perhaps he hadn’t heard her. Nonsense, of course he must have. Should she apologise? No, better say nothin’ more.

  Jane, in common with most of her fellow creatures, was more concerned with events as they affected herself than with the effect they might be having on the other person. It was not that she was unaware of his unusual appearance, but the few seconds allowed for her to readjust her ideas did not leave her any time to feel horror or pity, or any of the other emotions usually inspired by the abnormal.

  Before she could resolve on the course of action most beneficial to herself, he had reached the telescope and was pointing out the door. “There, on that hillside to the left, can you see that cow, a sort of brown and white spot just past the very large tree?”

  She nodded wordlessly. He swung the instrument around, peered through it, made an adjustment with a knob, and then moved back “Now, just bend down and look through there and you’ll see it as clearly as though it were standing just outside there on the grass,” he instructed her.

  She did as she was told, gasped, raised her head to stare at the hillside unaided, and then went to the glass again. Finally she turned to him, her eyes wide.

  “That’s—that’s magic, that is—and here’s me thinkin’ it were but a toy!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes, I suppose you could say it’s a toy,” he replied bitterly.

  She flushed with shame at what she’d revealed to him and dropped her eyes, but he shrugged and moved away. “This ‘toy’ is a globe. Do you know what that is?” She shook her head, unable to speak or look up. “Well, come and learn, girl, come and learn,” he ordered impatiently.

  For the next fifteen minutes he explained the globe to her, and gradually she forgot her embarrassment as she became fascinated by this first glimpse of the world and began asking questions.

  Wellington, patience at an end, wriggled to signal that he’d learned enough about the world and required to be put down, whereupon he ran straight out the door into the sunlight.