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He was met by Thompson, who had heard the sound of the crash and the neighing of the horses and was on his way to investigate. Mark told him swiftly what had happened and sent him to take care of the curricle and the horses, then he carried Jane into the house and sent for his mother.
‘Mark, whatever has happened?’ she said, looking at his burden.
‘She was riding up the drive and came off. I almost ran her over. Send for Dr Trench, will you, please.’
‘Yes, of course I will. And Lady Cavenhurst, too.’ She turned to a footman to give him instructions. Then to Mark, ‘If she was riding, why is she dressed like that?’
‘I don’t know, Mama, but something dreadful must have happened at the Manor. Perhaps she was coming to us for help.’
‘Grace will tell us when she arrives. Take her up to the blue room. I’ll send Janet up to you.’ Janet was his old nurse, who was long past retirement age, but she had nowhere else to go and continued to live at Broadacres, making herself useful in so many ways, especially when anyone in the household was ill.
In the bedchamber, always referred to as the blue room on account of its curtains and bedcover being the colour of a summer sky, he put Jane gently on the bed. She was still deeply unconscious and he was afraid for her life. If she died, he didn’t know what he would do. It was his fault; he should not have turned into the drive so fast. He fell to his knees beside the bed and stroked her paper-white face. ‘Jane, you must live,’ he murmured. ‘I love you. Without you, I am nothing. Please, my darling, wake up.’ He reached over and gently kissed her cheek. She did not stir and gave no hint that she had heard. His heart was beating too fast and then almost stopping, before thumping on again. He took a deep breath to calm himself and took her hand.
He had been a fool, letting convention dictate what he did. Why had he not seen Jane’s worth before he proposed to Isabel? Why had he accepted everyone else’s idea that she was plain Jane and not to be considered? She was far from plain, she was beautiful. She had a depth of beauty that Isabel had never had; it came from inside her and shone out in everything she did. ‘Jane doesn’t count.’ The words seared into his brain. She counted for him, more than anything else, more than life, more than riches, certainly more than the opinion of the haut monde. The trouble was that Jane herself would never accept him, even if he persuaded her to admit she loved him, too. She would never betray her sister, just as Drew would never betray him. Where was Drew?
His mother bustled into the room accompanied by Dr Trench and Janet. ‘Has she come to?’
‘No.’ He rose from his knees and reluctantly left the room.
* * *
Jane’s eyes fluttered open, shut again, then opened fully. Where was she? She was in a bed, but it was not her own bed. She turned her head to see Mark sitting in a chair beside her. He looked tired and drawn, but his smile was wide. ‘You are awake at last.’
‘Where am I?’
‘At Broadacres. You came off your horse in the drive, do you remember?’
‘No. What was I doing?’
‘I think you were coming to see me.’
‘Was I?’ She struggled to sit up, but was surprised at how weak she felt and her head felt funny. She put a hand up and touched a thick bandage. ‘What about?’
‘I was hoping you would tell me.’
‘Sir Jasper,’ she murmured. ‘I found out he was a Paget and related to the man in the graveyard.’
‘I know. I don’t think it was that. You would not have left home in such a hurry without even changing into a habit just to tell me that.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does Mama know I’m here?’
‘Yes, she has been every day.’
‘Every day?’ she echoed. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘A week.’
‘A week!’
He smiled. ‘Yes, seven days and in a delirium most of it.’
She was alarmed. ‘What did I say?’
‘Nothing that made any sense. The only words I managed to decipher were Papa, Roundhead, Royalist, wedding and something that sounded like Bolsover. We had the devil of a job to stop you thrashing about and re-opening your wound.’
‘Oh. Who’s we?’
‘Me, my mother, Janet and your own mother when she came. She was distressed as we all were, but Dr Trench said he expected you to make a full recovery, given time.’
‘Time!’ she cried, as memory flooded back. ‘I do not have time. I have to go home.’
