Jane took a deep breath, then realised that a large hand had taken one of her clenched fists under cover of the tablecloth and was holding it fast.
“Yes, Grandmama, please explain. I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting Mr and Mrs Darcy, but as you know, I am proud to claim acquaintance with Miss Anne Darcy and I am sure I will meet her parents in the future.”
Lady Goddard heard the challenge in her grandson’s voice and hesitated. She was anxious for him to marry Anne Darcy, even if her mother was a nobody, her grandmother a fool and one of her aunts had the most dubious of reputations. Why, it was even common knowledge now that a first cousin was illegitimate!
In any other family, these things would be enough to keep them from associating with respectable people, but there was one big difference. Mr Darcy was incredibly rich and had friends in high places. This Jane might say they no longer met with Lord Bowyer but the family connection was still there. His granddaughter, Lady Merryn, who would surely marry into the aristocracy, was a cousin of Pemberley.
Lady Goddard was determined that Archer would enter Parliament and make himself a name in political circles. For all the disgrace of their marriage, the Darcys could be extremely important to him. She had already made it plain to him that she favoured Anne Darcy as his wife. Archer was not a fool—he quite understood that the money he would need to succeed in a new career would only be forthcoming if he agreed to her plan.
“My dear Lady Goddard—” Andrew broke into the tense silence, his voice plaintive and sad. “Are we to have that delicious pudding served to us soon? I can smell treacle tart and I know there are to be spiced plums with the cheese.”
The old lady’s stern features relaxed a little. She was fond of Andrew Moore and often allowed him liberties of behaviour which she would not have sanctioned from Archer. She did not know nor did she query why this was. His honest, open countenance and brown hair that would never stay neatly styled, the untidiness of his dress, the way his cravat was always coming loose, all these things should have irritated her. If someone had told her he bore a remarkable likeness to a certain young man she had liked far too well over fifty years before, who had died in some needless cavalry charge, she would not have believed them.
“I do declare, Andrew, that you eat more than three men put together,” she said, trying not to smile and gestured to the footmen to bring in the desserts.
“You should have let me speak, Sir,” Jane said softly as the various dishes were being laid before them. “I feel I have let down my parents by not defending them.”
Archer sighed. “You must learn to choose your battles wisely. Your parents need no defence of their marriage from you. Grandmama is from a different age, her ideas are set and nothing you can say will alter them. She is a tyrant in many ways, she seems hard and uncaring and probably is! She refused to speak to her own daughter, my dear mother, for years and years and no matter what I said, I could not change her mind.”
Jane was silent for a minute, cutting a slice of cheese into tiny squares. She tried to imagine how she would feel if her own mother refused to speak to her. It left her with a dreadful feeling inside, of sorrow and abandonment. But how could Archer Maitland be so at ease with his grandmother if she acted in such a way?
“But …”
“Ah, I know what you are going to say, Miss Jane, that surely my first duty was to my parent. But believe me, my mama was just as hard-headed and stubborn as my grandmother. She adored my father, was mortified by her parents’ treatment of him and refused to make the first move of reconciliation and so it was stalemate. Obviously she had my deepest affection but I am also fond of my grandmother. I learnt to navigate between the two of them, like a small vessel in a storm trying to avoid two mighty rocks!”
Jane glanced up swiftly: his tone was light-hearted, almost flippant, but she could see the pain in his eyes that the situation caused him and she fell silent, knowing that any words from her would only be platitudes because she could not truly understand how two women could act in this way.
Suddenly Lady Goddard rang the handbell next to her wine glass and stood up. “Ladies, we will withdraw and let Dr Mooreand my grandson enjoy their brandy. Please do not take more than one glass, Andrew, you know it does not agree with you. Purkiss—perhaps if you have had enough spiced plums, you will favour us with a few quiet tunes on the pianoforte. Signorina Celeste—take my arm and sit next to me. I wish to ask about Italy. It is many years since I travelled there.”
Jane found herself accompanying Miss Purkiss as they left the dining room. “Have you been with Lady Goddard a long time?”
“Oh, yes, a good many years, Miss Darcy. My mother died when I was a child. My father had the honour of serving under the Admiral, although only as a very lowly officer, and when he died in a sea battle, indeed, died saving the Admiral’s life, I was left with no means of support, and sadly as I did not have the type of education that would have allowed me to take up a role as governess, the Admiral was kind enough to offer me a place in service to his family. So kind, so very kind.”
Jane followed her into the drawing room and stood next to the very ornate and beautiful pianoforte as Miss Purkiss hurried to sort her music. The companion played very well, and as the first tune began, she stood, listening in pleasure and wondering how difficult it must be, not only to be continually grateful, but to have to show this gratitude every day of your life?
She glanced across at Lady Goddard and Celeste—her cousin looked uncomfortable, fidgeting with her fan and the lace on her sleeve. Obviously the old lady’s questions were proving burdensome. She only hoped they weren’t about Roman architecture or statues because from conversations she had had with Celeste herself, the girl was sadly uneducated about the culture of her home country.
***
Lounging at the table with brandy glass in hand, Archer and Andrew were comfortably at their ease. Archer loosened his cravat and grinned at his friend.
“You and the beguiling Celeste are becoming good friends. I have a suspicion you are smitten by the young lady’s charms.”
Andrew sipped his brandy. “I admit I find her enchanting and extremely good company. I like her complete disregard for what is considered proper social behaviour.”
“I admit I do not know any other Italian girls. Well, not of good birth, anyway! Perhaps they all behave as she does. Does she speak much of her upbringing and background?”
“I gather that her mother died at birth and she lived with her father’s family until he, too, passed away.”
Archer swirled the amber spirit round and round in his glass, enjoying the aroma. “I allow it must have taken a great deal of courage to travel to England in search of her distant relations, without even a proper chaperone.”
His friend nodded thoughtfully, then frowned. “Sometimes, when we are speaking and not being overheard, I think she is going to tell me much more, then she hesitates and the subject is dropped.”
“A secret?”
“Whatever it is, it would not stop my liking for her. Anyway enough of my affairs—what about your own? Is it to be the elegant Anne Darcy who will become the next Mrs Maitland or do you look elsewhere?”
Archer looked up sharply and shrugged. “I always swore I would never marry just for love. I will not end up like my poor father, living in poverty. You know my position. If I marry Anne then my grandmother will continue to fund my career. If I do not, then the money will cease.”
