She shuddered. “I couldn’t do it.”
“And yet, Jane, if I bring this fortnight off perfectly it could be a great thing for us—for all of us.” Mr. Rochart shook his head and she saw the financial worries laid over him like a glove.
She remembered Miss Ingel in her aquamarines, Nina in her furs, and briefly she wondered why his situation was so dire. Surely the money was coming in—where was it going to? But merely she said, “I will do what I can to help, sir.”
“Will you?” He turned his strange amber eyes upon her. “Then you must bring Dorie down to mingle with the guests.”
Jane twisted away. “No,” she said immediately. “She’s not ready.”
“She’s not?” Edward stopped her in the middle of the mud-splashed lawn. His amber eyes shadowed and focused on hers. She felt caught, like prey. “You must. Every night, you must. Don’t think I don’t know what they say of my daughter. And of me—that I lock her in a garret like some madwoman, that I keep her hidden. She must come and be normal. You must come and make sure that she is.”
“But—”
“Please,” he said, and she was still. He studied her. “I see thoughts whirling behind your eyes,” he said. “You feel like a trapped animal; you are desperate for any excuse not to sit in a dark corner of my drawing room for a couple hours each night. Am I such an ogre?”
“No,” Jane said reluctantly.
“Then what are you frightened of?”
She did not answer.
Finally he said, more lightly, “I foresee one objection—you are going to tell me you and Dorie don’t have any dresses suitable for evening soirees. I have brought her a new one from town, and for you I have a new pair of dancing shoes.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she said, overwhelmed, but he held up a hand.
“No, do not thank me. I saw your sister in town and she sent them. She said specifically to tell you that they were commissioned for you—I gather she often sends hand-me-downs?”
“Very nice ones,” Jane said, but it was true, the thought of Helen having specifically made these for her was a spot of gladness in her heart. “Did she send a letter?”
“No,” he said. “But she spoke of doing so soon.” He hesitated. “Does she speak of being often alone?”
“No,” Jane said, surprised. “Her letters are endless descriptions of parties and compliments.”
“Oh.” He was silent for a moment, and then he took her arm and moved on, irrevocably leading her back to the house. “I have sent Martha to the attic to fetch one of Grace’s stored gowns and clean it for you. You do not have to wear them. I know how women like up-to-the-minute fashions”—with an ironic lift of his lips—“but perhaps having a choice will ease your mind.”
The only choice that would ease her mind would be the choice not to attend, but she could tell that this one was to be denied her.
And … he needed her. “We will come,” she said.
He inclined his head in thanks, and then they were at the house. He opened the back door for her and gestured her to precede him into the narrow hallway.
“I assure you, there is no one on earth who can bargain for a soul,” he said softly, as if there had been no break in the earlier conversation. The sunlight cut off as she stepped into the dark hallway, birdsong and cricket buzz, all gone inside that dim swallowing house. His eyes were lost in shadow as his fingers released their hold on her elbow, leaving five spots of cold in their place. “Bodies, however, are under earthly jurisdiction.”
*
Jane was all the way upstairs before she realized that she had not asked for his advice on Dorie’s listlessness. And yet he had inadvertently told her one thing that had to happen, for Dorie could not appear before everyone in metal-cloth gloves with sequins dangling from their backs.
Dorie was still in bed. “Father in forest,” she said. “Jane in forest.”
“Yes,” said Jane.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothed out the white swiss-dotted coverlet as what to do straightened itself out in her head. Dorie stared through the wall as if she could see the black trees.
“Here’s the story,” Jane said finally. “Your father wants you to come down and meet these people tonight. You’ll like that, won’t you? All the ladies in their pretty dresses?”
Small voice. “Pretty dress?”
“Yes, one for you, too,” said Jane. “Your father brought you one from the city. And.” She took a deep breath before offering Dorie the bargain. “You won’t be wearing your gloves the whole time his guests are here.”