Lady Jane (15 page)

Sebastian had succeeded so well in introducing her to the pleasure her own body could give her that he had wiped out all her shuddering disgust at the memory of Leach. He had also, however, left her with a body that now troubled her with its demands, sometimes forcing her to pace the floor for many sleepless hours. She knew of no remedy for her condition, and was too ashamed of it to confide her problem to anyone. If Sebastian were here she could have confided in him without shame, but then, if he were here she wouldn’t have the problem. Which brought her thoughts again to her strange reticence regarding her few moments with Lord Jaspar and she realized all at once why she had never told her husband of it: She had enjoyed it! It had been thrilling for the few moments that she had allowed it to go on, arousing the same pleasurable sensations in her body that Sebastian had so expertly induced.

The noise in the room suddenly ceased, causing her to come out of her introspection and look about. A thin, elderly man scuttled out to seat himself at the pianoforte, followed by a majestically bosomed lady with improbable red hair, who took her place squarely before the pianoforte with a condescending nod of acknowledgment for the thin spatter of applause which greeted her entrance. As she launched herself into an aria by Gluck, Jane allowed her mind to go back to that episode with Lord Jaspar that had been superseded by events so overwhelming, both good and bad, that she had not thought of it or of him for a very long time. She found she had no difficulty in recapturing every erotic moment of it, and even now the memory succeeded in arousing that only lightly dozing creature within her body to a tingling awareness. She felt the blood rush into her cheeks and glanced about guiltily, quite expecting to find herself the object of horrified glances.

All eyes, however, were fixed upon the soprano, though there was undoubtedly horror in some of them, or at least pain, for what the soprano was doing to the aria would have caused the composer to weep and tear his hair.

Jane fanned her hot cheeks and subsided gratefully back into her chair. Well, she thought, it is clear that I am a depraved creature who must confine herself to her own drawing room in the future or risk disgrace, for what might I not do if I happened to encounter Lord Jaspar again?

She raised her eyes and had her answer, for there, standing so far forward in the room he was almost facing her, was that gentleman staring straight at her with a bemused, disbelieving expression in his eyes. She gasped audibly in shock and all the blood rushed so precipitately out of her head to the aid of her violently agitated heart that she felt quite faint.

“My dear! What is it?” Jane heard Lady Stanier’s alarmed whisper as from a distance. She bit down on her tongue sharply, determined not to call any more attention to herself by fainting away in the middle of Mrs. Medvers-Platt’s musical evening. She opened her eyes and the room steadied and she turned to smile vaguely at Lady Stanier.

“Please ignore it if you love me,” Jane whispered back. “I’ll explain later.”

Lady Stanier patted her hand anxiously but turned obediently back to the soprano. Jane sat with her eyes fixed resolutely on her white kid gloves, feeling the sword of Damocles to be not just hanging over her head but with its actual keen edge touching coldly against her neck, for she could not entertain the least hope that Lord Jaspar would wait beyond the ending of the entertainment before confronting her. After that it would be only a matter of moments before the story of Lady Payton’s antecedents spread over the room. There was no point, either, in hoping that he would be merciful, not after the painful blow she had delivered to him on their first meeting and the insulting way she had flung his money back in his face—well, figuratively speaking, she amended—on their second and last meeting. No doubt he was standing there at this moment gloating over this heaven-sent opportunity to avenge himself and preparing to expose her in the most humiliating way possible as soon as the last notes had died away.

She dared not look up for fear of meeting his eyes again, and attempted to mentally visualize the room and the quickest escape route out of it. All would depend, really, on how quickly she could move after the program was over.

She was assisted in her resolve to escape by the other guests, who, after the most perfunctory applause rose eagerly to their feet and with great relief turned to their neighbours, no doubt to prevent the soprano from being encouraged to give them an encore. Jane leaped up, pulling Lady Stanier to her feet, and made what speed she could through the jumble of chairs and the milling crowd without actually elbowing people aside in too unseemly a way, dragging the bewildered Lady Stanier behind her. She had reached Mrs. Medvers-Platt who was waiting at the door, to direct her guests downstairs to a light supper, and was just opening her mouth to beg Mrs. Medvers-Platt’s forgiveness, pleading that she felt a slight indisposition and must take her leave, when a voice cut in.

“My dear Mrs. Medvers-Platt, won’t you present me to these charming guests?”

There he stood, smiling beatifically, and making a charming bow when Mrs. Medvers-Platt happily complied with his request. Lady Stanier graciously held out her hand to him, for Montmorency or not, he was excessively handsome and very prettily behaved and Lady Stanier had a weakness for handsome young men. After an exchange of compliments he turned to Jane who could
not
raise her eyes from the floor and who was blushing helplessly, to her fury. She could feel all of them staring at her expectantly and with her last bit of courage managed to say “How do you do?” in a strangled whisper.

“Immeasurably better than I had hoped when I set out this evening,’ he replied promptly with a smile. “Perhaps you and Lady Stanier would do me the honour of allowing me to take you down to supper?” Lady Stanier waited for Jane to reply and when she didn’t, was in something of a quandary as to whether or not the invitation should be accepted. She hadn’t understood Jane’s headlong rush to the door and, of course, was not aware of the previous encounter between Jane and Lord Jaspar. At that moment she saw Lady Montmorency surging forward, doubtless to claim her son as her own escort, and turned with an impish smile to put her arm into Jaspar’s.

“How delightful of you to ask, sir. We should be happy to have your company, should we not, Jane?”

He held his other arm out to Jane and after an instant she put her hand on it and was led mutely down the staircase she had climbed so unsuspectingly not two hours earlier, experiencing now all the joyful anticipation of Marie Antoinette in the tumbrel.

15

Jane
eyed the lobster patty before her with distaste, then pushed it away slightly and took a sip of her iced champagne, which, though not a particularly favourite wine with her, served to relieve her parched throat. Refreshments had been gallantly procured for her and for Lady Stanier by Lord Jaspar, who had seated them at a tiny table for two in the supper room. When he returned with the refreshments he pulled up another chair between them, making the small table even more intimate.

Though made uncomfortable by this nearness, Jane felt it the lesser of two evils: at least they were spared any other company to be party to whatever revelations Lord Jaspar might have in mind. She had even more reason to be grateful when she saw Lady Montmorency and Lady Sarah enter with Mr. Quint. Lady Sarah looked eagerly in Jane’s direction and seemed inclined to join them, but was led firmly away to the other side of the room by her mother and Mr. Quint.

Jane sighed with relief and turned back to her plate. Food, however, was the last thing she had any desire for at the moment, so agitated were her spirits—especially lobster patties. Why on earth hadn’t the man the sensitivity to bring her something more soothing? A cream or jelly perhaps? She glanced up from the offending patty in irritation to find Lord Jaspar just pushing a quivering pink jelly before her.

“I fear the lobster has displeased you, Lady Payton. Won’t you try this jelly instead?” he said with a smile.

She found this even more irritating, since she was convinced the man was only playing a cat-and-mouse game with her and when he thought he had soothed her fears he would pounce. It was distinctly unpleasant for her to be forced to sit here practically knee to knee with him, and affect an air of calm and indifference while he toyed with her. Her every instinct was to attack first. Jane Coombes would not have hesitated. But that girl had been brought up to behave so and would have been protecting only herself.

Lady Jane Payton, however, had the Payton position to protect, and more especially, her son’s name. Therefore it behooved her to remain cool and wait to see what he would do. She gave him a brief smile, thanked him courteously, and taking up a spoon began to eat her jelly, wondering if the condemned, eating their last meal, had this same difficulty in swallowing. She concentrated on disguising the effort it cost her and thought darkly about evil young men who took pleasure in torturing their victims, an addiction from a boyhood spent, no doubt, in pulling wings from butterflies. She became aware of an expectant silence, the sort that always follows an inquiry, and looked up startled. What had he said? Had he—?

“I—I—b-beg your pardon, sir?” she stammered, her eyes caught and held for a long moment by his own. She saw again an amusement lurking there and threw up her chin defiantly. Let him say what he would! She would simply stare at him haughtily and deny everything he might say. Let him prove anything!

“I merely asked if you were from Kent, Lady Payton, as your late husband was?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, but without enlarging upon the statement in any way.

“Very lovely part of England. I’m sure you must miss it.”

“Yes.”

“Will you go down again after the Season?”

“Yes.”

Lord Jaspar was apparently not the least discouraged by these monosyllabic replies, for he struggled gamely on through the weather, the Season, the various balls and parties, and possible mutual acquaintances. He received an unamplified “yes” or “no” whatever he said, or a small shrug of indifference when she could not make either of these answers, as though the subject were too boring for her to bother to discuss.

Lady Stanier had listened in some amusement to the beginning of this discourse before turning away to talk with an old friend seated behind her. She turned back in time to hear Lord Jaspar receive some reward for all his conversational efforts. He had just requested the honour of paying her a morning call.

Her cold indifference shattered, her eyes met his, wide with fear. “Why?” she gasped.

He studied her in puzzlement for a moment before answering. “Why, for my own pleasure, Lady Payton. But, of course, if you are not receiving visitors, I—” he paused with an inquiring smile for her answer.

“Of course she is receiving,” Lady Stanier responded after an embarrassingly long silence, when it seemed Jane was not going to do so. Really, thought Lady Stanier with exasperation, what
is
the matter with the child? Here was this perfectly unexceptionable young man requesting that he might call, and no matter how unpleasant the females of the family might be, there was a definite cachet attached to social acceptance by the Montmorencys, aside from the fact that those women apparently presented no threat to Jane at all.

“Then I will do myself that honour,” Lord Jaspar replied with a smile, turning politely to give Lady Stanier some of his attention. Jane scolded herself for behaving in such a cow-handed way and fanned her flushed cheeks briskly, grateful to Lady Stanier for drawing him off and giving her time to make a recovery. She wished desperately that she had withstood Lady Stanier’s urgings to come here, for it was clear Jane Coombes was
not
ready for the
ton
yet! How many times had dear Mother Payton said to her that a lady never reveals her feelings in company? Yet here she was blushing and stammering and nearly fainting her first time out. Surely if Lord Jaspar had not recognized her at sight, his suspicions would by now be thoroughly aroused by her eccentric behaviour. She forced herself to fan more slowly and take deep breaths.

But hardly had the hot colour receded from her cheeks than she saw an elegantly long white-gloved hand appear on Lord Jaspar’s shoulder and a gay voice interrupted his conversation with Lady Stanier.

“Jaspar, do be a darling and give me your chair. I am near fainting with boredom from that Quint creature prosing on and on in his antediluvian way. I vow, I barely escaped with my sanity.”

Lord Jaspar looked less than pleased but rose politely and gave place to his sister. Lady Sarah reached for his glass of iced champagne and surveyed Jane frankly over the rim with large blue eyes as she drank it all down greedily. Without speaking, or even looking at him, she held the glass over her shoulder to Jaspar, who, after an instant’s hesitation took it resignedly and went away to fetch her another glass.

“I know you will forgive me, Lady Payton, for thrusting myself upon you in this rag-mannered way, but you are the only interesting-looking person in this entire assemblage of bores!” Lady Stanier raised an eyebrow at this wholesale condemnation in which she was evidently included, but Lady Sarah prattled on, unconscious of the insult. “As a matter of fact, the only reason I came tonight was to see you. Mrs. Medvers-Platt happened to mention at the Tolley’s rout last week that you were to be her guest tonight and I immediately clamoured for an invitation. I had heard that you were quite beautiful, you see, and I have been positively consumed with curiosity to see you ever since I heard of the marriage, for of course no one ever expected Sebastian Payton to be able—”

A firm, tanned hand appeared before Jane’s and Lady Stanier’s horror-frozen eyes, grasped Lady Sarah by the arm and lifted her precipitously from the chair. “Come dearest sister, Mr. Quint is pining for your presence,” said Lord Jaspar in a voice tight with rage.

“Jaspar! What can you mean by jerking me about in this rude way!” gasped Lady Sarah, her eyes flashing dangerously. “And where is my champagne?”

“You’ve had quite enough, I think. Come along.” Without giving her time to speak he led her away.

Lady Stanier looked into Jane’s shocked eyes and with a gay little laugh said something about siblings, then that if Jane would recommend it, she quite thought she
would
have the other jelly, that is, if Jane was quite sure
she
would not like it. Jane forced herself to smile back and disclaim any need for further refreshments. Several pairs of avid eyes lost interest as Lady Stanier firmly led the way into a discussion of the quality of the music provided by Mrs. Medvers-Platt and the bountifulness of the refreshments. Jane dutifully followed this lead and produced a very creditable imitation of a young woman with nothing more important to discuss. She watched covertly as Lady Montmorency, after a brief word from Lord Jaspar, rose and sailed out of the room on her son’s arm, an obviously angry Lady Sarah pulled along on his other side.

Very soon after this, Lady Stanier signalled that they might leave. When they were safely seated together in the carriage Lady Stanier reached over to press Jane’s hand warmly.

“That was very well done, child. I was proud of you.”

“It was ghastly—every moment! I should never have agreed to come with you! Everyone staring and Lord Jaspar teasing and that dreadful creature making those insinuations about Sebastian. I cannot—”

“Pooh! What a to-do you are making. You must learn not to be so thin skinned, child! Naturally everyone stared. You are new to them and quite, quite beautiful. That alone would make them stare, even aside from the fact of your intriguingly mysterious history. As for Lady Sarah, she was flown with wine and not accountable. Besides, she was only voicing what everyone was wondering about.”

“But—but—how terrible of them—”

“Not at all—perfectly natural. If I didn’t know the circumstances I should no doubt be speculating about it myself. We’re a very parochial Society in London, after all. We all know each other and everything about each other. Believe me, it is a very rare skeleton that can stay decently hidden in the closet as far as we are concerned. The thing to do is just smile and be calm and by next week they will all have found something else to titillate them. Now—what was that you said about Lord Jaspar teasing you? I don’t think I missed much of his conversation and I vow I noticed nothing out of the way. A very pretty-behaved young man, I thought, in spite of that mother.”

Now Jane was in something of a quandary, for she could not think of any way to explain the comment that had slipped out in her agitation. “I—oh—nothing really, I just felt nervous of him.”

“But what did he say in particular to distress you?” Lady Stanier persisted.

Jane again replied vaguely, for in truth she could not really remember anything he had said besides asking if he could call. That request still clanged around in her brain as she tried to imagine how he intended to play the scene. Would he tease and hint at his knowledge or come right out and tell her he knew who she was? Would he say nothing to her but whisper it around the drawing rooms of London? Was he even now revealing to his mother and sister that they had just been formally introduced to their former backstairs maid? Indeed, that Lady Sarah had bent a knee to her?

Jane longed to pour this unresolvable problem into Lady Stanier’s ear, but could even Lady Stanier’s vast understanding and kindness extend to a tale of near seduction involving what could only be called complicity, for a few moments at least, on Jane’s part? No! Better by far to bury her guilty secret, however much a burden it remained on her conscience. She would have to face Lord Jaspar and whatever he had in store for her alone.

Later, snuggled into her pillow and alone at last to vent her long-held-in-emotions, she found she had no tears to shed after all. Instead, she set herself to try to remember what he had said to her, but most of it remained elusive. She found his face continually materializing before her, however, and thought, “How blue his eyes are! As clear as the sky on a summer day. And as innocent of malice!” She looked again and it was true. She walked toward them, but they receded before her. Abruptly she was asleep.

Jaspar, meanwhile, bundled his mother and sister into the Montmorency carriage and sat grimly between them, staring straight ahead, his disapprobation apparent. Sarah on one side stared angrily, if rather blearily, out the window, demonstrating by her silence her anger with her brother for having dragged her away from the party just when it had become interesting. Lady Montmorency stared as resolutely and as silently out the other side. Her object was to prevent any altercation from breaking out between her children in the carriage when it might be overheard by the coachman.

When they reached Curzon Street, Sarah flounced out of the carriage and went straight up to her room without a word. Lady Montmorency turned to say goodnight to Jaspar before following her daughter, but he spoke first.

“If I could have a word with you in my study, Mama,” he said and without waiting for a reply crossed to the door of his study and stood holding it for her. She shrugged and followed him. He closed the door on the interested gaze of Omsby, the butler.

“Really, Jaspar, I wish you will not order me about in this way before the servants,” said Lady Montmorency, sinking into a chair before the fire and shrugging off her ermine-lined velvet evening cloak. “Also I am very weary and not interested in a brangle tonight. If you have to ring a peal over someone, wait till morning and speak to your sister.”

“When she is sober, do you mean?” he inquired with an awful irony.

“Jaspar! Of course I mean nothing of the kind! What a thing to imply—”

“Not implying, Mama, stating as fact. You had best look to your daughter, madam. She is becoming much too fond of drink and has no head for it. Worse still, when she’s disguised her tongue wags at both ends.”

“You exaggerate, my dear. She has always been volatile—”