The Heart's Companion

Jane and Edward fruitlessly searched the area around the little Grecian temple. There was evidence that Bertram had been there: smudge marks on the telescope’s brass fittings and crumbs in a linen napkin attesting to the remainder of his picnic fare. A growing sense of uneasiness curled within Jane.

"Come, let’s get back to Aunt Elsbeth and Twink. They’ll be wondering what’s keeping us," she said as levelly as possible. She stooped to pick up the discarded napkin.

"He probably went off like the earl did," Edward suggested with miniature adult worldliness.

"What do you mean?"

"You know. When he went climbing by hisself and broke his arm. Bertram probably went off to do the same to show he’s smarter and stronger and that he won’t break his arm. "

"Oh dear, do you really think so?"

"Sure. He’s always trying to prove somethin’."

"We’d best send the grooms out looking for him. Come on," she said, turning to run lightly down the gently sloping hillside.

Edward enthusiastically followed her, and soon both were running heedlessly down the hill. A small hillock caught Jane unaware, interrupting her stride and pitching her forward. Her arms waved wildly, her skirts entangled her legs and she fell, tumbling down the grassy incline. Below her came twin screams from Lady Elsbeth and Nurse Twinkleham. From above Edward screeched her name. Jane hardly heard them as she concentrated on stopping her forward momentum. Each roll and thud, as another portion of her anatomy struck the ground, sounded loudly in her ears. Finally she swung her legs forward and her wild rolling slowed. She came to rest on her back, her skirts foaming about her. She stared up at the clouds in the sky as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Aunt Jane! Aunt Jane!" cried Edward, his little piping voice higher than usual. He was the first to reach her, throwing pieces of grass and dirt across her as he skidded to a stop by her side.

Her left arm rose slowly, bonelessly, to touch his cheek. She smiled. "I’m all right. Merely winded."

"Jane! Are you all right? Edward, run to the stables and have one of the grooms bring up the pony cart immediately. "

"No, no, I’m all right, Elsbeth," Jane assured her aunt. She struggled to sit up. Her chip bonnet, crushed and soiled, dangled from its ribbons about her neck. Her hair was in wild disarray, grass and leaves clinging to the silky black strands. "Help me up," she said, extending her hands toward Elsbeth and Edward.

"I’m persuaded you should let Edward fetch the pony cart," said her old nurse, searching her former charge carefully for injury.

"Nonsense, Twink. Quit fussing. I’m not made of glass," she said, batting the woman’s questing hands away, but smiling to take away the sting of her words.

"Well, my dear, judging by your appearance, you cannot wonder at our concern," said Lady Elsbeth, calmer now that she was assured of her niece’s safety.

Jane glanced down at her dress. Grass and dirt stains liberally smeared the white, floral-patterned dress, and the ruffle was tom from the hem so that it dragged on the ground. She grimaced at the evidence of her mishap then laughed and shrugged it away. "I’m fine, and a little East Sussex dirt will not harm me. My concern is for Bertram. Elsbeth, we must send the grooms out in search of him. "

"We will dear, we will. But do not worry so. He is a sturdy little boy. Much sturdier than you, I’ll warrant. Come, let’s get you back to the house. I’m confident you’ll feel better for a hot bath, else you’ll soon be feeling aches and pains you don’t realize you have. "

Despite Jane’s protests to the contrary, Lady Elsbeth and Nurse Twinkleham got on either side of her, linking their arms with hers to offer support on the walk back to the house. As they approached the manor house, a carriage rolled into view. "Isn’t that the Culpepper’s carriage?" Lady Elsbeth asked. "Of all the times Mrs. Culpepper should choose for visiting." Jane groaned.

"Well, there is no avoiding her now. We shall just have to send her on her way, for it should be obvious to even a woman of her intellect that this is not a time for visiting," Lady Elsbeth said flatly. "Miss Twinkleham, take Jane on into the house. I shall deal with Mrs. Culpepper."

"Nonsense, Elsbeth. It would be rude for me to walk away when it is obvious that she has seen me. Better to brazen it out. Besides, a good gander at my condition should help speed her on her way," Jane said with a laugh.

There was no time for more, for indeed the occupants of the coach had observed them and ordered their coach to pull up. Out tumbled Mr. Culpepper, his round complexion choleric. It was obvious he was a gentleman in the throes of some emotion. Behind him came his wife, her cheeks tearstained, followed by their daughter Maria wearing a bored expression, and lastly their son Henry, who looked far worse than Jane did.

"What happened to you?" Jane blurted out, astounded to see the boy with a split lip and swollen nose. Blood mingled with dirt smeared his coat and shirt.

"Well you should ask!" declared the boy’s father. "This is the work of that hellion nephew of yours, and I’d like to know what you intend to do about it!"

"I beg your pardon," said Jane, disconcerted. Henry Culpepper, who stood a full head taller than Bertram, was a stocky lad with a bully’s temperament. She could not imagine Henry coming out the worse in any exchange with her nephew. The sudden image of Bertram lying bruised and bloody somewhere swam before her eyes.

"I want to know how you’re going to punish the lad for this mischief," demanded Mr. Culpepper. "My Henry could be scarred for life."

"Scarred!" wailed Mrs. Culpepper. "Oh, no, not my baby!"

"Hush, Rebecca," admonished Mr. Culpepper, turning away from Jane for the moment.

Jane laid a hand on his arm. "But where’s Bertram? He could be hurt, lying in the dirt somewhere."

"Are you daft, woman!" roared Mr. Culpepper.

Jane fell back under the fierceness of his attack.

"Look, it’s the earl!" piped in Edward; but the adults, caught within their own drama, didn’t heed him.

"Now see here, sir," protested Lady Elsbeth. "Can’t you tell my niece has met with her own unfortunate accident? Temper your voice."

"And he’s got Bertram with him!" Edward jumped up and down, pulling on Nurse Twinkleham’s arm. That redoubtable woman took the added weight in stride, her attention on the gentleman who was casting vicious aspersions on one of her charges.

"Accident! What happened to my son weren’t no accident. That hellion Bertram is responsible. It’s what comes of being cabined and cribbed by a bunch of mollycoddling spinster women. And if that boy ain’t here, it must be ’cause he knows he’s earned and due for a whipping," Mr. Culpepper roared, his lower lip thrust pugnaciously forward.

"I beg your pardon," huffed Lady Elsbeth.

"Cut line, Culpepper," snapped a deep voice from behind the group.

They all turned, astonished to see the Earl of Royce descending from an elegant equipage. He was accompanied by a disheveled Bertram who, it appeared, was developing a splendid black eye.

"There you are, you little beast!"

Mr. Culpepper strode over to Bertram and would have taken him by the lapels to shake him like a dog if the earl hadn’t laid a hand square in the middle of his chest, holding him at bay.

"Now see here, Royce, what’s the meanin’ of this? Can’t you see what he did to my boy Henry? You’re no kin of the boy. Stand away. The lad needs to be punished," he said, pushing up his coat sleeves.

Royce held the man firm. One corner of his mouth rose in cold, sneering contempt. "What I see first is that Miss Grantley has obviously met with some accident for which she needs attention, not verbal bullying from a man of breeding who should know better. Furthermore, I see nothing in your Henry’s condition to indicate he got the worst of the match."

A frown of uncertainty creased Mr. Culpepper’s brow. He turned to look at Miss Grantley, finally appreciating her condition. "What happened to you?" he inquired bluntly, pouting a bit for having his sails trimmed.

During the altercation Jane managed to mentally adopt her formal society cloak. "I misstepped and took a tumble down a hill," she said serenely. "Won’t you all come inside? I’m confident we can discuss this situation in a more civilized fashion with the addition of some refreshments." She gracefully extended her arm in the direction of the house and proceeded, head held high despite the trailing ruffle, filthy attire, and squashed bonnet, to lead the way.

It was a surprisingly subdued group that followed in her trail. Mrs. Culpepper, requesting her husband’s arm in lachrymose accents, leaned heavily on him as they walked toward the manor. Her whimpering and sniffles accompanied the procession. Henry sneered at Bertram and tried to look superior. Bertram held his head high, adopting Royce’s disdainful mien. Maria Culpepper, though engaged to the son of Viscount Lemington, sidled up to the earl to bat her faintly darkened eyelashes and beg, in high breathy accents, his arm to the house. The earl looked down his nose at her and allowed faint surprise to lift his brows. He gently reminded her she was not a matron yet, and Lady Elsbeth Ainstree's position as daughter of a duke came before hers. Miss Culpepper blushed fiercely, stammering excuses, and ran off to follow her parents.

Lady Elsbeth’s lips twitched once, but she kept them from turning upward in a smile. "Well done," she murmured, her eyes dancing with contained mirth.

"Do you think so?" drawled the earl.

"Oh yes, and don’t try to play that bored, jaded aristocrat with me. I’m entirely too familiar with the role. I know it for what it is and isn’t."

"Why do I feel back in the schoolroom suddenly?" the earl mused to no one in particular. "And I find myself wondering how you came by your knowledge, for you are much too young."

Lady Elsbeth could not help but preen slightly at his compliment, but in reaction looked at him more severely. "I am older than you, my lord, and I’ll thank you to cease your cozening ways."

He did not respond to her scold, but stared ahead at Jane as she led the group. There was a considering expression in his eyes, as if he suddenly remembered something and was turning that memory over in his mind, examining it. It was an expression that made Lady Elsbeth uneasy.

"I have discovered in my travels that people have layers upon layers of meaning behind their actions," he said as languidly as one would speak of the weather. "What at first may be taken for good or bad, upon reflection reveals hidden, almost forgotten reactions to circumstances in one’s past. The trick is to discover these repeat habits and sever the ties so that they may cease binding one in knots."

He looked down at Lady Elsbeth, a slight smile playing upon his lips. "I find myself wondering from what experience you speak. Just as I find myself wondering what experience has driven your niece to her Ice Witch persona. Intriguing questions, don’t you think?"

Lady Elsbeth’s step faltered, but she responded readily to the gentle pressure he exerted to continue. She looked up at him uncertainly. She prayed he did not know any of her history, but feared he did, for she remembered he’d been sent down from Oxford and was on the town the year she had her disastrous season. And he was just the sort to have been in John’s train, she thought bitterly. She felt a soupcon of relief that there was no discernible knowledge of her past in his expression. It was not something she wished anyone to remember. She silently congratulated herself on deftly staying out of John’s orbit all these years so that memories could not be stirred to bubble to the top of society’s scandal broth pot.

"La! I take back what I said. You must be bored to be considering that which would not plague an ant." She laughed slightly and smiled her understanding spinster smile, though her heart hammered loudly in her chest.

He did not react as most did. "My interest does not lie with the insect world, Lady Elsbeth, but rather with people," he returned deftly, and smiled so charmingly Elsbeth was left in doubt as to the precise meaning of his words. "But tell me," he continued crisply, his bored air falling easily away, "how came Miss Grantley to her current state of disarray?"

Relieved to have the conversation turned from herself. Lady Elsbeth launched into a detailed recital of the events of the afternoon. The earl nodded thoughtfully and patted her hand where it rested on his arm.

"I’ll take care of Culpepper," he promised as they crossed the threshold and her hand fell away from his arm. He strode over to Bertram’s side and placed a hand on the lad’s shoulder. "Culpepper," he said loudly, "let’s allow the ladies to retire to the parlor while we gentlemen adjourn to the library to discuss this matter. A discussion of any pugilistic match is not for a lady’s delicate sensitivities."

"My lord, you overstep yourself!" protested Jane, whirling around to face him. Her white, pinched face was beginning to show delicate signs of bruising.

"Now see here, Royce!" argued Mr. Culpepper, his lower lip thrust out as he pried his wife’s fingers from his arm.

The earl went cold. "We will discuss this matter in the library in a gentlemanly fashion. If, afterwards, you still feel the necessity of addressing Miss Grantley or Lady Elsbeth, you are free to do so. But I am not in the habit of discussing affairs of honor before women."

"Affairs of honor!" Jane shrieked.

The earl ignored her. "Bertram, lead the way. Ladies, if you will excuse, us, we will join you later. Miss Grantley I would see to those scrapes and bruises immediately." He turned to follow Bertram to the end of the hall and the door leading to the library. Mr. Culpepper and Henry followed silently behind. At the doorway Royce stopped and requested a hovering Jeremy to fetch a bottle of port and glasses to the library.

Jane stared open-mouthed after him. Rage flared her eyes and cold fire lit their emerald depths. Lady Elsbeth hurried to fill the silent void left by the men’s departure.

"Yes, Jane, why don’t you go on upstairs and rest. You have had a most frightening experience. I shall do very well with Mrs. and Miss Culpepper. Miss Twinkleham, please take Edward upstairs now." So saying she marshaled them together like a mother hen her chicks.

A quick glance in a tall pier glass on the stairway landing convinced Jane it was a good idea for her to freshen up; but, she would not remain above stairs. She fully intended to have words with the Earl of Royce for his high-handed manners before too much more time had passed! His arrogance obviously knew no bounds. If those were continental manners he’d adopted, she would be certain to let him know they were not appreciated in England!

When she came down some twenty minutes later, bathed, her hair once again neatly arranged, and a soothing unguent applied to the worst of her scrapes and bruises, she discovered Jeremy once again in his listening position, this time hovering against the library door. An amused, appreciative smile twisted her lips and lit her eyes.

"Listen closely, Jeremy, for I’ll expect a full report," she whispered.

The young footman stiffened and turned. "Begging your pardon, ma’am?"

"Oh, it’s to be that way, is it?" she observed, nodding her head sagely. "Just be careful lest you forget for whom you work and be out of work," she snapped, thoroughly nettled.

Behind the footman came the rising sound of voices. The library door cracked open, and Jane distinctly heard Mr. Culpepper addressing his son. "If you’re going to eavesdrop, get it right, boy!" His words were followed by his person dragging his son out by the ear.

"Ouch, ouch! Please, Papa! I promise, Papa!" the child wailed as he was led past her.

Jane blinked in surprise at this turnabout. She looked questioningly at the earl, who followed the Culpeppers out; but a little negative shake of his head forced her, seething with curiosity, to hold her peace.

Mr. Culpepper led his son to the manor house door and pushed him outside. "Wait for us in the carriage. I’ll attend to you later," he told the red-faced child. Then he turned his back on Henry and shut the door.

He glanced up at Jane and scowled, his lower lip protruding sulkily. He looked as if he wished to say something, then changed his mind and raked a beefy hand through his scraggly gray-streaked hair. Shuffling uneasily from one foot to the other, he nodded shortly at her and turned to enter the parlor to fetch his wife and daughter.

Jane looked at the earl. "What has been going on?" she asked, coming to stand beside him.

"Wait," he said, nodding in the direction of the parlor. He turned toward Bertram. "I’m certain Miss Twinkleham is waiting to fuss over you. You’d best go on up."

Bertram made a sour expression.

"Be thankful you have people interested in your welfare. The world is a cold and cruel place without them, and you are not, entirely, without blame," the earl reminded him sharply.

The boy nodded and with dragging feet slowly mounted the stairs.

Impatience welled within Jane. "Will you please tell me what’s been going on? I’ve been on tenterhooks for the past half hour!" she hissed softly, glancing around to see that no one was listening.

The earl glanced up and down the hall and led her to a long bench near the door. "Henry apparently overheard his sister telling her mother about your—ah—nickname. But he did not hear their conversation clearly. He only overheard snatches. Somehow he thought you were referred to as an Old Witch rather than an Ice Witch and taunted Bertram with that name."

"Old Witch?" Jane repeated, dazed. Then she fell to laughing.

The earl remained punctiliously serious. "It was, quite naturally, more than the boy’s honor could bear. "

"Oh, come now, my lord. What’s in a name?" she returned easily.

The earl refused to be drawn. "You fail to appreciate the enormity of the situation, here. You were being insulted. He, as the nearest male relative, was defending your honor."

"Defending my honor? Oh, come now!"

"Do not think to shuffle it casually aside. Bertram strongly feels he has a responsibility to you and Lady Elsbeth as the nearest and oldest male relative available."

"But he is only a child!"

"That does not weigh with him. Do not belittle his action. "

"But he was fighting!" protested Jane.

"His pride and honor are involved here. Do not crush them with feminine nonsense."

"Feminine nonsense!"

"If you feel strongly that the boy should be punished, then punish him for something that he knows was wrong and won’t affect his pride. Punish him for wandering off without letting anyone know."

"Well that, certainly—"

"No, make it that only, Miss Grantley. "

Jane looked like she would protest again, but just at that moment the rest of the Culpeppers came out of the parlor and hurriedly made their good-byes. Mrs. Culpepper was observed quietly badgering Mr. Culpepper for information on what had transpired. But it didn’t look as if she met with any success. They saw them out to the carriage. By the time Mr. Culpepper bundled his nagging wife into the carriage, his face had again assumed a choleric hue. He slammed the door on her and climbed up beside his coachman so abruptly, that the man nearly dropped the reins. Though the driver looked uncertainly at Mr. Culpepper, he didn’t say a word as he whipped up the horses and turned down the drive.

Watching them race down the lane, Jane leaned against the doorframe. She was suddenly exhausted. Muscles she didn’t even know existed began clamoring for attention.

The earl studied her closely. "You, young woman, belong in your bed."

"That’s what I told her when I sent her upstairs," added Lady Elsbeth.

"Enough, both of you. I am all right."

"Listen to her. She talks as if falling down a hillside were an everyday occurrence," snapped her aunt.

"It is perhaps good that I am accustomed to hell’s fires," the earl casually told Lady Elsbeth, "for I don’t feel ice."

Before Jane could react he had bent over and scooped her up into his arms as he did at the blackberry patch.

"Lady Elsbeth, would you care to lead the way?" he drawled, ignoring Jane’s outraged gasp.

"Of course, Lord Royce. This way please," Lady Elsbeth said, struggling to keep laughter from her voice. "Now Jane, don’t carry on so, you’ll only injure yourself further. I’m confident you’re quite safe. That is, you will be if you’ll stop squirming. Be careful lest his lordship drop you on the stairs and you tumble down, adding bruises to the ones you already have."

Realizing her aunt and the earl were beyond reason, Jane gave up struggling and settled for glaring at them with a full Ice Witch’s freezing intensity.