nineteen
If Effie hadn’t known that Jane had been in the middle of an anarchist attack the previous day, looking at her now, she would never have guessed. Jane’s cheeks were rosy, her hair perfectly styled, and her slender figure radiated authority when she entered Effie’s drawing room. The satin ribbons on her hat fluttered around her head, adding a touch of elegance.
“How are you?” Jane took her hand.
“A few minor injuries, but nothing serious. It’s Rowan I’m worried about.”
“What a tragedy.” Jane sat on the armchair. “I’m sorry for both Montcrest and young Rowan.”
“You’re the only one besides me who shows compassion towards Tristan.”
Jane gave a little shrug. “The incident made me think. No one deserves to be killed like that. Now I think I was too harsh on him and his family. Also, my husband told me something else about Montcrest. Something I haven’t told anyone.”
“Tell me.”
Jane waited for the footman to leave. “Years ago, when his family’s financial situation started to get better, he worked in awarehouse for hours on end. One night, he was attacked as he was returning home.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure why, but he ended up in hospital and remained there in a state of prolonged unconsciousness for a few months.”
“Oh no.” She’d heard of those uncommon cases when a patient remained in a deep sleep and woke up for no apparent reason.
“Some slanderers say the deep sleep damaged Montcrest’s head, and that’s why no lady wants to marry him, even though he’s a good match.”
She was about to cry. The more she learnt about Tristan, the more she understood him.
“Please don’t tell him I told you this story. He wouldn’t thank me.”
“But I do.” Besides, Tristan wouldn’t be so open to her and tell her about his past.
“You’re a doctor of sorts,” Jane said.
“Thank you for that. It really cheered me up.”
Jane waved dismissively. “Do you think Montcrest’s brain can be truly damaged?”
“No. He can do everything like any other person. He can speak, move, and reason normally.”
“Some might object to the last one.”
“What I mean is that, physically, he’s fine.” Spiritually, perhaps not.
“But does the incident explain his cold temper? Lady Mabel thinks his brain doesn’t work properly.”
The anger she felt was quick. “Since when did Lady Margaret become an expert in brain damage? What does she understand about medicine?”
Jane looked taken aback. “I’m the messenger. Don’t get upset with me.”
“But you shouldn’t repeat unfounded and potentially damaging news. That’s how rumours can destroy someone’s reputation.”
“I don’t understand why you’re becoming agitated.”
She fought another comment on how dangerous rumours could be. They were Londoners’ favourite pastime. But poor Tristan was targeted too many times.
“I simply wish you would stop listening to every piece of gossip you hear,” she said diplomatically.
Jane gave her a sceptical look. “It’s not my fault if people tell me what they know.”
