The Heart's Companion

It was late in the afternoon. A sheet of gray clouds blanketed the sky and a fine mist had begun to fall. The lovely Gothic window was boarded up, the parlor empty and dark. Servants moved silently through the house, lighting candles and lamps. Still a gloom pervaded Penwick; a gloom that was as much in the spirits of its inhabitants as in the dark shadows of impending night.

Jane and the gentlemen guests were ensconced in the library. Few words were spoken between them and those few were murmured; the clock in the corner was louder, a steady beat punctuated by its half hour and hour chime. A cheery blaze burned in the hearth, but they did not seem to notice. They sat scattered about the room, lost in private thought or in the pretense of reading.

They all looked up immediately when they heard the muted sounds of conversation from the hall. They heard the front door open, then close. The men rose from their seats, and they all stared expectantly at the library door. They were rewarded when moments later the door opened to admit Lady Elsbeth.

Her face was white and haggard. She moved like a wraith into the room. Quickly Lord Conisbrough went to her side and led her to a chair near the fire. Then he went to the sideboard and poured a healthy dose of brandy into a glass and brought it to her. The smile she bestowed on him in thanks held the glimmer of her usual expression. They all took cheer.

Jane rose from her chair and crossed to her aunt’s side. She gently touched her hand in mute inquiry.

"She lives," Lady Elsbeth said on a long expelled breath. "The cuts were not as bad as all the blood would have us fear. We discovered after cleansing the wounds that only one required stitching. My greatest fear is that we did not get all the glass out. It would have been worse had not the window already been broken. As it was, only the right side of her body bears cuts. Most will heal nicely. A few, like the slash across her cheek, will scar, leaving a vivid memory of today."

She sipped the brandy, coughing a little as it burned its way down her throat. She took another sip, prepared for the sensation, and leaned her head against the back of the chair. "We gave both her and Millicent laudanum. They’re sleeping peacefully." She looked at Jane. "What shook me the most, I think, was her docility. I don’t know if she has any memory of today’s events. It’s like Serena isn’t even here anymore." She shook her head in wonder.

Elsbeth looked down at the glass in her hand, her voice distant when she spoke. "The doctor says that from now on she’ll need constant care and supervision."

"No!" The single word, loaded with anguish, burst from Lord Conisbrough. He went down on his knees beside Lady Elsbeth’s chair. "No," he repeated softly. "She will not win. I will not allow her to ruin my life a second time. You will not sacrifice our happiness for her!"

"Excuse me, Lady Elsbeth, I shall see that Lady Serena gets the care she needs," said a humble Mr. Burry, standing in the shadows by the bookcase. When it looked like Lady Elsbeth would protest, he came forward into the light and forestalled her. "I know I ain’t much to look at, and I’m often the butt of jests, but I love Lady Serena. Have for years. I ain’t blind to her faults, either, though I do act it. Fact is, I knew she was up to mischief when we come here, I just chose to ignore it. "

"But Mr. Burry—"

"I’m a rich man. I can afford to pamper her. Take care of Mrs. Hedgeworth, too."

Lady Elsbeth looked at him helpless, uncertain what to say.

"It might serve," offered Jane. "And everyone knows he’s devoted to her."

"But she may never be the same again. She may never be that woman you love. La! She is such a dissembler, I doubt she ever was!" Lady Elsbeth said, her soft hazel eyes full of doubts.

Mr. Burry rocked back on his heels, his expression grave. "I told you I love her. You could call me a liar if that mattered. I’ve been willing any time these past years to take her in sickness and in health. Well, I ain’t going to change my mind now. Mayhap love can guide her back to health."

The Marquis of Conisbrough squeezed Lady Elsbeth’s hand. She looked at him.

"Should it really ruin your life?" she asked whimsically.

"Yes. You know it would."

She turned back to Mr. Burry and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Thank you, Lady Elsbeth. I should like to go up and take a peek in at her now."

"Yes, of course," she answered, exhaustion creeping into her tone.

A frown creased the marquis’s brow. "Hold the door. Burry," he ordered. He took the brandy glass out of Lady Elsbeth’s hand, setting it on the table. Then he picked her up out of the chair.

"John! What—?"

"Hush. You’re near to falling asleep. I’m taking you to your room and placing you in the hands of your woman. Then I don’t want to see you until at least noon tomorrow. "

Despite herself. Lady Elsbeth chuckled. "How romantic," she said dryly as she laced her arms about his neck, content to let him carry her.

He scowled at her fiercely; but Lady Elsbeth didn’t mind, for there was something in his expression that told another tale.

When the door closed after them. Sir Helmsdon cleared his throat and approached Jane.

She’d almost forgotten his presence and looked at him in surprise.

"Miss Grantley—" he began formally.

"Do you wish me to perdition? Shall I leave?" drawled Lord Royce.

Sir Helmsdon raised his hand and shook his head. One of Royce’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He sat down in the chair he’d occupied earlier, his elbows on the arms, his fingertips steepled.

"When I came to Penwick Park, you accused me of wishing to kidnap you, to force you into marriage. This I vehemently denied. I find I must now confess that I lied to you."

"Lied?" Jane repeated.

He laughed without mirth, a brittle sound. "Yes. I convinced you my intentions were honorable. They were not. I was ready to abduct you and force you into marriage by ruining your good name. My circumstances are that desperate, and I was lost to reason. Since I’ve been here. I’ve discovered a warm generous person behind that formal facade you maintain in society. That person I could not treat so shabbily. I wanted to tell you before I go."

"Go?"

"Yes, I’ve had my things sent on to the inn in the village. After the friendship you’ve shown me, I can no longer in good conscience remain under this roof. But before I go, I want to offer this advice, for what it’s worth. Don’t hide yourself away. Don’t be the Ice Witch, or the only gentlemen who will brave the cold will be fortune hunters, like myself."

He bowed curtly. "I wish you the best of happiness."

"Sir Helmsdon," she called after him as he strode toward the door. "What will you do now?"

A crooked smiled pulled at his lips. "Offer myself to one of those paragons of middle-class virtue. My position in society in exchange for their funds." He shrugged. "Perhaps I’ll even reform." He lifted his hand in a final farewell.

Jane noticed that Jeremy had opened the door before he reached it, as he had also done when Mr. Burry left the room. She shook her head. She didn’t think the young man would ever break the habit of listening at keyholes. Of course, if he hadn’t had the habit, he and Sir Helmsdon would not have been outside the window to provide the distraction necessary to stop Serena. She shuddered to think of the consequences. Her neck and throat still hurt, despite the soothing salve and the soft cloth bandage wound about it.

The red line caused by the chain Mrs. O'Rourke made her wear would likely not disappear for days. When Jane twitted Mrs. O'Rourke concerning the damage done by the medallion and its chain, the woman had smoothly reiterated that second sight was both a gift and a curse. Then she went on to remind Jane that she had said to trust in the Lord, and at another time to trust in a tall, dark gentleman. And didn’t Lord Royce disarm Lady Serena? And wasn’t he a Lord and a tall, dark gentleman? To that bald pronouncement, Jane had had nothing to say. She had gracefully retired to the library to join the gentlemen and await word of Serena’s condition.

Now only she and Lord Royce remained in the library. They were silent as they heard Sir Helmsdon jovially call for his hat and coat and then close the front door firmly behind him.

Jane glanced over at Lord Royce, suddenly very nervous. He was frowning, his dark brows drawn together in a straight line.

"Helmsdon is right," he finally said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have locked yourself away for so long that the only gentlemen who come around you are more interested in your purse than your person. I can’t take advantage of that."

"You can’t take advantage of what?" Jane asked sharply. A little flicker of hope began to burn within her. Her heart beat faster and her breathing rate increased, like bellows fanning the fragile flame. She rose from her chair, forcing him to do likewise.

"The Jane Grantley that society knows is only a facade, a shell covering a vibrant woman. That realization gives me unfair advantage."

"How so?" she asked whimsically, coming closer to him.

"Sit down, Jane." He stepped away from her, turning toward the fireplace.

"Why?" she asked, coming up behind him. He jumped when she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Angrily he spun around, grasping her by the shoulders. He propelled her backwards into the chair he’d vacated, then he stepped away quickly. He ran a hand through his thick, marsh-brown hair as he stood looking down on her.

"You are a desirable—nay, more than that. You are a passionate woman," he said harshly, his breathing ragged.

"I am?" Jane asked blandly, a little smile playing at the corners of her lips. "No," she said with a sigh, "I fear you must be wrong. I have never roused strong feelings in any man, nor felt any myself. I doubt that I could," she said with a touch of wistfulness.

"What? Never—" A grim expression hardened his features. He strode toward her, jerking her out of the chair. She came willingly, leaning toward him.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his hard body as his lips claimed hers. She opened up to him eagerly, lifting her hands and threading her fingers through his hair, keeping him close. The prickly tingles swept her body. She gave herself up to the feeling, riding it as a ship rides the waves, glorying in it.

He groaned as he took his lips from hers and kissed her neck. Abruptly he bent to pick her up, raising her high in his arms. She laughed delightedly, her arms around his shoulders, her green eyes shining. He sat down in a chair with her on his lap. She nestled close to him.

"Baggage," he said.

She smiled. "That’s what Sir Helmsdon called me yesterday," she murmured.

"Well, he was right. You tricked me."

"Did I?" she asked blandly. "You mean you did not want to kiss me?"

"Yes I did, and you know it. But I was determined not to. "

"Why?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair, delighting in the feel of it.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands down. "Because, damn it, I love you! But I would not have you marry a fortune hunter with a disreputable reputation. You deserve more than that."

"Are you saying you’ve been toying with my affections?"

He groaned. "No, but I’m damned certain you’re toying with mine!"

"Oh, no! For you see I am quite ready to do the honorable thing by marrying you, so that can’t be toying, can it?"

"You don’t know what you are saying."

"Yes I do. But I really did not expect you to ruin a woman’s reputation quite so callously."

"What are you talking about?" he asked suspiciously.

"The rumors and the gossip surrounding this encounter shall be all over the neighborhood within hours. And from the neighborhood, I’m quite certain it will spread to London. Highly embroidered, of course. Scandal broth. How society loves a good tale, as you yourself well know. "

"It won’t wash, Jane. There is no one about but us to know of this interlude."

She thrilled at his use of her first name, for it told her, despite his words, how he felt about her. But she did not bring it to his attention. Instead, she turned her head toward the door.

"Jeremy knows, don’t you Jeremy?" she said in an even, conversational tone.

"What?" demanded Royce, leaping to his feet as the door opened.

Jane slid to the floor. "Well, really, Vernon!"

He blushed red, looking from her to Jeremy. He put out a hand to help her to her feet, then turned an angry stare on both of them. Jeremy trembled slightly until he noted Jane’s calm acceptance of Royce’s anger. She even nestled closer to him.

"Now Jeremy," she said, "from what you have heard, do you think Lord Royce has remained scrupulously honorable?"

He grinned, understanding her game. "No, ma’am. "

"Would you say he has compromised me?"

"From what I heard ma’am, I’d say definitely. "

The earl emitted a low-throated growl.

Jeremy looked at him a little apprehensively, but remained firm.

"This is blackmail," Royce said. ’

"Yes, I believe it is," Jane responded tranquilly. "But what do you expect? You told Serena and Millicent that you could not be bought or bartered for, so what was left to me except blackmail?"

He smiled wryly. Then his eyes narrowed and he stared at Jeremy. "I fear your talents are wasted here. The Home Office or Bow Street would delight in your skills. Now, get out of here. You’ve done your part. Allow me to do mine. And this time, see that no one listens at the door—including herself!"

"Yes, sir," he said eagerly, backing out of the room, but not before he caught Jane’s broad wink.

The earl caught it, too. "Baggage."

"Yes, I believe you already said that," she said, turning to face him and linking her arms about his neck.

"Are you quite certain, my love, that you want an old reprobate, such as myself?"

"I don’t think I’d be happy with anyone else."

"I’m almost as heavily into debt as Helmsdon," he reminded her.

She shrugged. "I’m not, and you won’t be for long."

"Be very certain, Jane, for I don’t know that later I could muster the strength to do the noble thing and walk away from you."

"I would call that ignoble. I love you, Vernon."

"Society will talk."

"Will you please desist and surrender gracefully?" she said with laughing exasperation.

He grinned. "With all my heart."

And even if Jeremy had still been listening, he would not have heard anything but the sighs of two people in love.