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Chapter Nine
Jane was reclining on a sofa in the morning room, talking to her mother and Isabel about her proposals for fund-raising when Lady Wyndham arrived with Mark. Isabel immediately rose, curtsied to them both, muttered something about needing to find Sophie and left the room.
‘Please do not try to get up,’ Lady Wyndham said, putting a hand on Jane’s shoulder as she struggled to rise and ignoring Isabel’s hurried departure.
The two older ladies kissed each other’s cheeks. ‘How are you, Helen?’ Grace asked, ringing for a servant. ‘You look a little better.’
‘I am. I do not think I shall ever recover completely from the loss of my dear Richard, but life must go on, you know. We came to see how Jane is. I was sorry to hear of her accident.’
They seated themselves and Mark took a chair opposite Jane and leaned forward. ‘How are you, Jane? Did you manage to sleep?’
‘Yes, thank you. Doctor Trench left a sleeping draught for me. I have to keep the limb up for a few days and then walk a little to see how I manage.’ She was aware that she sounded stiff and formal, but she felt embarrassed by what had happened the day before: drinking too much champagne; his touch, which set her limbs on fire; the way their bodies melded together as he lifted her on and off the curricle; the conversation which had, at times, been perhaps too personal, especially when talking of Isabel. It made her feel guilty, too, as if she had been disloyal.
The maid returned with a tray containing a teapot, tea caddy and cups and Grace began dispensing tea, while continuing the conversation. ‘I question whether a house in such a dilapidated state is fit to make into a home, even for orphans,’ she said, addressing Lady Wyndham, as if orphans did not deserve a home such as other people enjoyed.
‘I did, too, but Mark assures me it can be put to rights, but it is a great responsibility for an unmarried lady to take on.’
‘The responsibility is divided between the trustees, of which I am one,’ Mark put in. ‘And I have told Jane I will help all I can.’
‘I appreciate that,’ Jane said quietly. ‘I will try not to call on you more than I have to.’
‘Call on me as often as you like.’
‘I do think it is a pity Isabel does not interest herself in the scheme,’ Helen said. ‘A man needs a wife who takes an interest in the things he is interested in, otherwise they may as well live separate lives.’
‘Oh, then...’ Grace stopped and looked at Mark.
‘Mother knows,’ he told her. ‘She is of the opinion Isabel will change her mind.’
‘Of course she will,’ Lady Cavenhurst said briskly. ‘It is only a silly fancy because she is nervous of the responsibilities she will have as Lady Wyndham. I have told her your mother will be there to guide her.’
‘Naturally, I will,’ her ladyship agreed.
‘Thank you,’ Grace said. ‘You are very understanding.’
‘Not at all. I remember how terrified I was when I married Wyndham. It was his mother who helped me.’
Jane stole a glance at Mark who had taken no part in the conversation. His face was wooden. He sipped his tea and looked anywhere but at her. She was glad when the short visit came to an end and she could return to the plans for the fair which she had started. She needed to involve the whole village and the Reverend Caulder was the best one to help her. She would ask him to make a reference to it from the pulpit on Sunday. The swelling in her ankle would have abated by tomorrow and she would be able to hobble out to the trap and drive into the village. There was a crutch somewhere in the outbuildings that Teddy had used when he had broken his leg years before; if it could be found it would help her to walk to and from the trap.
* * *
She was driving round to the stables on her return from the village next afternoon when she noticed a carriage in the yard and wondered who the caller could be. Not Mark or his mother—she knew their vehicles; not anyone in the village, it was too grand and was dust-covered enough to have travelled some distance. The coachman was giving the horses buckets of water helped by Daniel. She stopped and used the crutch to support her as she climbed down. Daniel saw her predicament and ran to help her.
‘Who is our visitor?’ she whispered, as he helped her into the house by the kitchen door. The front steps were beyond her.
‘Mr Halliday.’
‘Oh.’ With the aid of her crutch she hobbled through the house to the drawing room, where she found her mother and sisters.
