“Oh, I couldn’t dance with farm boys, Miss Jane. That would never do. But I’ve never seen a harvest celebration and …”
“Of course you can go. But please be back at the house by ten o’clock and make sure you do not walk alone though the woods. Stay with the other servants.”
Tabitha curtsied. “Thank you, Miss Jane. I’ll do just what you say.” She crossed her fingers behind her back as she spoke, because everyone knew that meant you weren’t really telling a lie. She wasn’t sure if the other Deerwood maids were going to the village—and she certainly wasn’t going to ask that irritating Luisa to go with her—but she was so bored here in the country and any sort of celebration must surely be exciting.
By six o’clock, with the wind gusting around the house, rattling the old window panes, Jane, Susannah and Celeste were sitting waiting in the drawing room. The housekeeper had, indeed, had the fire lit and the flames gave a welcome heat to the chilly room. A footman had reported that the carriage was outside but the Colonel had not yet appeared.
“What can be keeping the dear man,” Celeste said, jumping up and pacing across the room in a rustle and flash of emerald green from beneath her evening cloak.
“Cousin, sit and rest. You will overtire yourself.”
Just then the door opened and the Colonel appeared, but he looked pale, was still wearing his day attire and was leaningheavily on the arm of his valet, Dixon. The three women started forward in alarm.
“My dears, pray do not fret yourselves, but I fear I will not be able to accompany you tonight. My leg—the one that carries the wound I received—I am afraid I wrenched it whilst gardening.”
He smiled across at Susannah. “You did warn me to be careful, Miss Courtney, but I was so determined to place the fountain in the right place myself!”
“But Colonel, surely if you sit very still and do not walk about, a meal will be of no hardship? Will Lady Goddard not think it rude if we do not go.” Celeste looked appalled, her plans for the evening in ruins.
“I am sure Lady Goddard will understand perfectly. She would not want you to sit at her table in pain.” Jane threw a cross glance at her cousin. Surely she should be thinking of the pain her loved one was suffering, not what a neighbour would say?
“Celeste, my dear, wipe away that frown. Indeed, you must all go. It would distress me to think I had deprived you of such an outing. You will enjoy seeing Robyns and I know Lady Goddard is most anxious to meet you all, especially you, my dear.”
“How kind of you, Colonel!” Celeste was suddenly all smiles again, the scowl that had for the moment wiped away all her prettiness, now banished by his words. “And you can have a quiet evening here in peace. Come Jane, Miss Courtney, we must not keep the carriage waiting. It is bad for the horses, so I have been told.”
Susannah stepped forward and took off her cloak. “I shall stay here with the Colonel,” she said firmly. “Lady Goddard knows nothing about me and I am sure will not miss my presence in the slightest.” She motioned Dixon to help his master to a comfortable chair by the fire. “There are many interesting books here on the shelves. I will read out loud for a while and then we can order a light supper before retiring.”
Jane hesitated. She wanted to go to dinner at Robyns as much as Celeste, but surely it was her duty to stay with her godfather. “But Susannah …”
“Run along, Jane. Celeste is quite right. You must not keep horses waiting. All three of my brothers have given me that piece of information many times over the years!” And she settled herself into the chair on the other side of the fire, picked up a large, leather-bound tome and gave them a kind smile of dismissal.
8
There was still a little light left in the gloom as they journeyed to Robyns and Jane could see just how quickly the summer green had left the trees in thepast few days. Yellow, brown and bronze were now the colours of the countryside. The wheat fields had all been harvested and stood empty with their pale stubble awaiting the horses and ploughs to prepare them for sowing the new crop.
They were traveling in the Fitzwilliam carriage, a large comfortable conveyance which soon covered the miles of narrow roadways that led inland and then southwards again towards the sea which was hidden behind the low sweep of hills.
Jane gazed out in interest as, in the dusk of the evening, with the wind blowing clouds in rags across the sky, the pale stone house with its flat face and many tall windows came into view and the carriage swung up the driveway to the front door.
Robyns looked stark, severe and unwelcoming to her eyes, and she wondered if Archer Maitland approved of the design. It was modern in style but had none of the grace and grandeur ofPemberley which had been built a good sixty years before. Jane knew, without doubt, that Anne would find this house pleasing and just to her taste but she could not bring herself to admire it.
There was, however, very little time to make a proper judgement as the front door swung open as they descended from the carriage and a footman ushered them into a wide hall where a maid was waiting to take their cloaks.
Jane just had time to take in marble floor, admire an impressive chandelier and glance at the large oil paintings of elderly ladies, all of whom seemed to possess dark eyes and long, thin noses and portly, red-faced gentlemen, several in naval uniform.
Then they were ushered by the footman into a drawing room where the present day owner of the thin, arrogant nose was seated in a tall chair, presiding over all she surveyed.
Jane curtsied, aware of Celeste trembling at her side, then stood, raising her gaze in acknowledgement of the older woman’s quick nod of greeting. She was not the slightest bit afraid of meeting this Lady Goddard. Being a shy, retiring person had not stopped her from knowing that she was a Darcy of Pemberley and a social match for anyone.
Lady Goddard was very elderly, tall, thin with a mass of grey hair dressed in a severe fashion, pulled back tightly from a face that showed very little expression. Jane had a fleeting thought—this was a woman who had never cried, never laughed, never found any happiness in life.
Sitting next to her on the sofa was a lady of middle years, but with a face lined with worry and a lifetime of hardship. She was busy sorting a giant tangle of embroidery silks, the colours splashing down her black skirt in crimsons, emeralds and bright yellows.
Archer, who had been leaning against the mantlepiece, came forward, smiling, and Jane realised that his dark eyes and darkbrows had obviously been inherited from his grandmother, but luckily he had missed out on the long nose.
“Miss Jane Darcy, and Signorina Fiorette—how good to see you both. We were growing concerned as the minutes passed and you did not arrive. May I be allowed to introduce you to my grandmother, Lady Goddard. Grandmama, Miss Jane Darcy—who is, as you can see, the twin of Miss Anne Darcy whom you have already met in London, and Signorina Celeste Fiorette, a distant cousin of the Fitzwilliams.”
“Lady Goddard. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
