The Persuasion of Miss Jane Brody (6 page)

Jane barely heard him and made no answer to something she didn’t understand.

“What do you say?” he said.

“Pardon?” was Jane’s muffled response as she moved to kiss his jaw.

He had stopped kissing her. “Marry me Jane.”

Jane opened her eyes to find his searching gaze on her as he awaited an answer. She held herself quite still as her befuddled brain tried to catch up with Jonathan’s words.

Slowly his meaning became clear to her. Jane felt a rush of surprise and happiness. She was breathless and blushing.
He wanted to marry her!

How wonderful!

How awful!

Jane froze with surprise and fear. She heard her mother’s moans and her breathless voice – saw her pain-filled face as she laboured to birth her twelfth baby. She remembered the frail woman that her mother had become, who had wasted away leaving Jane to raise her beloved siblings.

She couldn’t marry him. And she didn’t love him - she couldn’t.

All this raced through her mind. She felt bewilderment and dismay.

She stared unseeingly at him. Finally she spoke. “No Lord Dalton. I can’t marry you. It’s absolutely against my principles.”

“Your principles Jane?” He looked thunderstruck.

She slid from his lap to stand before him, her mouth now compressed into a firm line though she trembled. “Yes! Marriage for me is impossible. You need heirs and I will never have children.” She paused. “I thank you for the offer, but I must decline.” Her chest ached with unshed tears.

He was outraged; she could tell. She was refusing an offer from a peer. She was refusing wealth and privilege and a comfortable life with a family - for her principles. Anger appeared to grow within him as she watched.

He said coldly, while offering his hand. “If you won’t marry me because of your principles then be my lover.”

She recoiled. “No! That would be worse than being your wife. I would hold even less hope for esteem in society if I took that path. The outcome would be just the same – children to raise and no freedom, but with none of the benefits of status and wealth that would go with marriage.”

His anger seemed to simmer on. “You had the option to choose.”

“I don’t want either! I thank you for the honour of your marriage proposal and I thank you for consideration of me as a mistress; however, I must decline both!” She paused to catch her breath and tried to speak in her usual calm tone, her eyes not meeting his. “It would be better if we did not meet again in the near future.”

She crossed the office and opened the door indicating that he was to depart.

Numb, Jane watched Jonathan stand, bow stiffly and leave the room, the home and her life.

♥ ♥ ♥

Dazed, Jonathan exited the room. His anger drained away as he walked down the hall. He passed through the front door of the home with a preoccupied nod to Joe.

“Drive on!” he commanded as he entered the carriage.

He collapsed into the seat trying to make sense of the last few minutes. He felt the joy of having her in his arms again. He saw her heaving chest and flushed cheeks. He couldn’t be mistaken about her feelings. She had responded to him fully and passionately.

What had made her pull back into her usual reserve?
What had he said?

Marry me.

Then came bewilderment.

Why would a marriage proposal, even an unplanned one, cause such a response? He knew a score of women who would have been silently whooping in triumph had he proposed to them.

But Jane wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t focused on catching the highest matrimonial prize possible. That was what intrigued him about her, he acknowledged with a grimace. But surely it could not just be explained by her championing of women’s rights. She was attracted to him. He knew it. He needed to get close enough to her to make her recognise that attraction. More than that; to make her act on it.

First he needed to know what really caused her panicked response.

 
Five

Jane closed the door softly, conscious of the finality of the act. It was over. That brief period of madness, excitement and attraction was ended. Leaning her forehead against the door she told herself that she had made the right decision, done the right thing for them both.
Then, why was she crying?
Tears were sliding from the corners of her closed eyes. She felt them tracking to her chin before they launched to the floor.
Why did she feel so devastated when they had just a short acquaintance?
She allowed herself a few minutes of silent sobbing before squaring her shoulders and ruthlessly wiping the evidence of tears from her face.

She walked around the solitary desk, sat down in the abandoned chair - where a few short minutes ago she had been lost in a world of sensual bliss - and adjusted it towards the waiting paperwork. Jane picked up the sheet on top of the pile and started reading. An hour later she was finished - the ledger up-to-date, a series of letters ready for the post and the desk tidied. There was nothing left to do except to speak with the supervisor, Mrs Green, before she departed.

She found Joe and sent him to bring a hackney carriage while she quickly spoke with Mrs Green. By the time the hackney arrived, she was waiting impatiently at the entrance. Joe stepped down and helped her in before giving the address and joining her inside.

Jane stopped briefly at a familiar address in Fleet Street to arrange the printing of her latest pamphlet. Within half an hour she was once again walking across the threshold of her home.

Instead of the usual quiet calm of a well-run household, a scene of upheaval and anguish greeted her. Anna ran to the door as it opened, looking stunned and blanched. “Oh Jane, at last you are home.”

“What’s happened?” Jane asked

Anna gulped. “It’s Papa. He has had a seizure. He was climbing the stairs after the children’s lesson when he stumbled and fell. He couldn’t get up. Christopher, Katherine and I had to help him to his bed. We sent for Dr Logan and he is with him now. We are waiting to hear what is wrong.”

Katherine and Christopher hovered in the background.

Jane opened her arms and they stepped into them. She hugged them wordlessly for a few moments. She tried to calm the situation. “We shall hear what Dr Logan says before we panic, shall we?” Their bodies relaxed in her arms at her words.

Jane guided them upstairs to her room and sat them on her bed while she stripped off her pelisse, gloves and bonnet, asking them for details about how their father had appeared before his collapse.

By the time they had finished answering Jane’s questions she had led them downstairs to the sitting room where Dr Logan sought them out soon afterwards.

Jane led him into her father’s study so that he might talk unrestrained. Pointing him to the sofa she sat down herself.

Dr Logan, his mouth grim and his greying brows drawn together above his aquiline nose began abruptly. “Well Miss Brody, he is resting comfortably now but he has had a serious brain seizure. He may recover or he may continue to have these seizures, slowly reducing his bodily functions until his passing.”

Jane gasped as the seriousness of her father’s condition sank in. “What can we do to give him the best chance of recovery?”

“There really is nothing except good nursing, keeping him calm and praying for his improvement. Time alone will tell us which outcome to expect. I’m sorry Miss Brody, that I can’t be clearer than this.”

“Thank you for all you have done and will continue to do, Dr Logan.” She hesitated. “Perhaps also, after so many years, you should call me Jane.”

His professional mask slipped slightly and he smiled. “Thank you Jane. Now, I presume you and your sister Anna will nurse him, so I will give you both some instructions before I leave. I’m on my way to a delivery.”

Jane hurriedly found Anna and together they listened closely to Dr Logan’s instructions.

The sisters found their father weakened by his seizure. He found it difficult to talk, but clutched their hands in relief when he saw them as if to convey his gratitude for their care.

For several weeks the two sisters shared the nursing of their father but as each week passed it became apparent that he wasn’t going to improve. Little by little his ability to move his limbs and speak declined until late one evening after his younger children had made their evening visit to his bedchamber, he had another severe seizure and gradually his breathing reduced to nothing by the morning.

Jane felt all the devastation of her previous experience with her mother’s nursing and death. At least, she told herself, she wasn’t alone in the caring role and her younger siblings were much older than when their mother died. Still, she felt numb with tiredness and grief. Afterwards the sisters spent hours making their black mourning clothes – their uniform for the next six months.

The funeral was a well-attended and gloomy event held a week later. The following day, Jane marshalled herself to visit the family solicitor to gain some understanding of their financial state.

She was greeted with sympathy and gravity by their short, wizened and white haired solicitor, Mr Pettigrew. He sat her down in the visitor’s chair opposite his desk and pulled her father’s will from a drawer.

“Well Miss Brody, I’m sorry for your loss.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “Are you aware of the terms of your father’s estate?”

“No. Not at all. My hope is that there are sufficient funds to support my three siblings and myself in our family home for the foreseeable future. I expect my sisters will marry eventually and my youngest brother wishes to enter the navy like his older brothers.”

Mr Pettigrew listened impassively, cleared his throat, then read the will to her. “I’m sorry to say Miss Brody that your father has left very little money to support you. How are your adult brothers situated?”

Jane felt stunned. “They are all seeking permanent employment or posted overseas. One brother was an army officer, but is now seeking work as a political secretary, another is a curate awaiting appointment to his own parish. He has hopes of being awarded one by our cousin but the incumbent, although old, is not yet ready to retire.”

The dour solicitor asked more questions about the ages of her younger sisters and brother and the family’s hopes for Christopher’s future.

“Our father had hoped that Christopher would attend university like himself, William and Francis, but Christopher is mad keen to follow his brothers into the navy.”

Mr Pettigrew pursed his thin lips. “Perhaps you should look into letting him have his wish. You must have contacts in the navy to whom you and your brothers might apply.”

Worried by his comments, Jane said, “You don’t seem at all confident that we can continue to support ourselves Mr Pettigrew! You must tell me exactly what our financial situation will be.”

“No Miss Brody. I am not confident. By my reckoning your total income from all funds is about one hundred pounds per year. Running your home must take up most of that.”

“Yes, indeed,” Jane answered. “I will have to find a way of earning our income Mr Pettigrew. Perhaps tutoring or running a girls’ school from our residence?”

He paused, looking closely at her, and spoke in a measured tone. “That would be a possibility. You would need contacts who would recommend you as a suitable person. Your youth and background might work against you though.”

“Perhaps, but we have friends such as Mrs Courtice. My sister and I would share the teaching. If it is a day school, there would be less work involved than taking in boarders.”

He conceded. “It is a plan of attack at least. In the meantime I will administer the funds held in trust for you and your sisters. You will receive quarterly payments.” He stood to show her out. “My clerk will give you a copy of your father’s will. If I can help you any further please let me know.” He bowed to her in farewell.

Jane exited his office, her mind whirring with the news and the question of how she and her siblings might reduce their household costs and begin earning an income beyond the small sums her pamphlets brought in.

Anna took Jane’s news stoically, offering to assist in any way she could. She didn’t complain though she must have realised that all social events would be over for her and any hope of a husband in the short term.

“Oh Anna, somehow we have to make ends meet. We will have to contact all our friends and acquaintances to try to enlist students for our school.”

“I can teach the music and arts subjects.” Anna offered.

“Excellent. I need to make a list of everyone we should contact and then we must write a prospectus of subjects offered and fees. We need to start as soon as possible. Tomorrow we can begin with Mrs Courtice.”

That evening Jane explained their situation to her youngest siblings. Katherine cried in shock at the thought that her quiet, ordered home would be invaded by strangers who would share her lessons, but she was eventually persuaded by Jane that the strangers should quickly become new friends.

Christopher sat at the dining table, silently listening.

“What about you Christopher? Will you be happy with new people joining your lessons?”

“Oh no! I think I would much prefer to go into the navy instead. If you are going to have to work, so shall I. It will be wonderful not having to spend every day at lessons but to go to sea and see the world instead!”

“There is no need for you to join the navy Christopher,” his sisters told him.

“But I want to! I have always wanted to, ever since James came home on leave the first time.”

Jane responded in a considered way. “Well, we shall see if it is possible, as you are so keen to follow James. I will write to him immediately to make a request of his superiors in the Admiralty and his captain who may be able to assist. Being a Lieutenant must be worth something.”

The rest of their dinner progressed in the usual chatter in and out of other languages. Jane watched her siblings closely, alert to the fears and sadness that she suspected underlay their appearance of normalcy. For now they seemed reconciled to their imminent new lives. In fact, Christopher looked joyous – a state of being he hadn’t shown since his father was taken ill.

Next morning Jane and Anna gave their siblings their lesson and organised the household as usual. At eleven they ordered luncheon for noon and wrote out several prospectus to hand out, showing the subjects they would teach and the fees they had devised.

In the early afternoon the sisters set out to call on Mrs Courtice in Cavendish Square. Although they were early arrivals they found the classically-inspired drawing room already occupied by Mrs Courtice talking with Lady Elizabeth Everslie. They were warmly welcomed by the pair who hugged them tightly and expressed their sincere condolences.

Mrs Courtice looked frail to Jane but Lady Elizabeth appeared full of the bloom of youth. Jane couldn’t resist and asked how Dr Logan fared, although she had seen him within the last week. Elizabeth blushed self-consciously as she answered. “Dr Logan was in excellent health when I saw him last.”

“And have you seen him recently Lady Elizabeth?” Jane asked.

She hesitated before replying. “I saw him briefly yesterday.”

Mrs Courtice watched with obvious amusement before interrupting. “So Jane, how are you and your family faring?”

“As well as can be expected but we have had some bad news from Mr Pettigrew, our solicitor. Our father was unable to leave us enough money to live on.”

“My goodness! What will you do Jane?”

“We shall start our own day school -
Miss Brody’s Academy for Young Ladies
. We were hoping our friends would assist by recommending us to their acquaintances. Between Anna and I, we can cover a good curriculum of English, mathematics, history, geography, languages, music and art. If requested I could teach introductory Latin and Greek as well as the classics.”

“Will you also teach fancy work and dancing?” asked Elizabeth. “Most parents of young ladies put great emphasis on those accomplishments.”

“We certainly could teach those things but it would mean bringing in a dance instructor at extra cost. As for fancy work, neither Anna nor I are renowned for our needlework, although we are good plain seamstresses!”

Elizabeth and Mrs Courtice laughed at Jane’s self-awareness.

“Perhaps you would permit me to take the sewing classes as that seems to be my greatest accomplishment,” said Elizabeth.

“You are so kind Lady Elizabeth, but we could not pay you.” Jane was surprised and grateful.

“Do not even think of it. It will give me pleasure to do something useful for you.” Lady Elizabeth looked enthusiastic.

“Do you have a list of potential parents to approach Jane?” asked Mrs Courtice.

“Indeed I do.” She smiled. “And I hope you can assist us in our mission.”

“Let me see who you have and I will add any additional ladies I can think of.”

Jane retrieved the list from her reticule and passed it to her friend who read it carefully before walking to her secretaire to add some more names. Then she asked Jane and Anna for the details of their undertaking.