Jane stood staring after him, realisation dawning as to what he thought she meant. Oh this was dreadful. That Archer should think she was the type of girl who put wealth and social standing before everything else that was important in life! For him to be disappointed in her was almost more than she could bear. She started after him, determined to explain, to beg Celeste to free her from her vow of silence when James spoke her name.
“Miss Jane.” The young red-headed footman was looking anxious.
“James?”
“Miss Jane—look—this girl here—well, Miss, it is Grace Frost, Miss! You remember Grace, surely, Miss. She was a maid up at Pemberley. She begs a moment of your time, if you please.”
Jane cast a despairing glance after Archer, to find that he had obviously made his farewells to the others and was disappearing at a fast stride towards the entrance of the Arcade. There was no way she could reach him now.
She turned her attention to the girl leaning against the pillar between two shops. James was quite right, the dark hair might be hidden under the hood of her red cloak, but Jane recognised the bright blue eyes of their former maid whom she had known for years whilst she was growing up.
Why Grace had left Pemberley so quickly a few months ago was a question that had once intrigued her. Working for the Darcy family was considered the pinnacle of achievement for most servants in Derbyshire and the surrounding counties. She had idly inquired once and her mama had told her that Grace had taken a position in the London household of the great artist, Edmund Avery, who had spent a few weeks in Pemberley that spring, painting a portrait of the Darcy children.
“Grace Frost! My goodness, to see you here in London. How are you keeping? I trust I find you well?”
“Miss Jane.” Wrapped in the red cloak, the girl dropped a small curtsey. She looked—Jane frowned—if she hadn’t thought she was being over dramatic, she would have said the girl looked scared. Her face was very pale and the plump rosiness of her cheeks that Jane remembered had quite vanished.
“Are you enjoying working for Mr Avery? Such a clever man. The portrait he painted of us children was remarkable. It is not yet on show at Pemberley—I think Papa is still deciding where it should be hung. But tell me, are you enjoying your life in London? I imagine you must see a lot of interesting and important people coming to his studio?”
“I’m … I’m not working for Mr Avery anymore, Miss Jane.”
“Oh! You didn’t stay there very long, Grace. Is it wise to move around from position to position so quickly? Or perhaps that is what happens here in London? I must admit it is a long way from Pemberley and our quiet country ways.”
“I was hoping … that is … I was hoping …” She cast a glance towards James who was gazing at her with disapproval. People were pushing past and the mid October day was beginning to feel colder as the sun dropped lower in the sky.
Jane suddenly realised that the girl was reluctant to talk in front of James. She could understand that: the footman was not yet eighteen and Grace was probably worried that he would gossip about her once he returned to Pemberley.
“James, there is no need for us all to stand here, blocking the Arcade in such a fashion. I wish to speak to Grace, so take the parcels and accompany Signorina Celeste back to the carriage, then return here. I will wait for you. I know you have strict instructions not to leave me alone on the streets of London, although I am not sure exactly what Mama thinks will happen to me!”
James hesitated, then nodded and hurried away up the Arcade. He had a very good idea what Grace was going to say to Miss Jane and, if he was honest, he didn’t want to be around to hear it. He’d never had any time for the arrogant young maid when she worked at Pemberley, but he hated to see how far she had fallen.
“Now Grace, what is it you want to say to me? Do you perhaps have messages for your family and friends back home? I will soon be returning to Derbyshire so when I do—” She stopped, startled into silence for Grace, unable to put her plight into words, had let the cloak fall back from her shoulders and Jane could immediately see the swelling of her stomach.
“Grace! You are married—no!—you wear no ring—oh Grace. Whatever has befallen you?”
The girl hastened to pull the cloak back around her, almost glaring at the pity in Jane’s voice. She had been reluctant to approach any of the Darcy family once she heard they were in London. The same pride that had led her to believe Edmund Avery’s honeyed words during the weeks he stayed at Pemberley, that she was as good as any of the cousins who visited the family, that had let her think that allowing him to use her as model for some of his more salacious paintings would guarantee her a place in his heart, had almost stopped her from asking for help, now she needed it so badly.
She had been begging on the corner of Oxford Street when she had seen Jane and another young lady step down from the Darcy carriage, with James in attendance. If it had been Mrs Darcy or the horrible Miss Anne, she would have walked in the other direction, but Miss Jane had always been kind, a soft-hearted girl, only too happy to pass on little items of clothing she no longer had a use for. Surely she would offer some help.
“It’s a long story, Miss Jane. Life has struck me a cruel blow. I thought I was secure in a certain gentleman’s affections, but when I told him about—” she gestured at her stomach—“this, he laughed, said it was nothing to do with him, that I was no better than a common … person … and threw me out of the house.”
Jane closed her eyes as the Arcade spun around her: she felt faint and would have given a gold guinea for a glass of water. Then she forced herself to look at the poor girl in front of her, defiantly clutching the edges of her cloak together to hide her shame.
But why was it just her shame, she found herself thinking? Surely Mr Avery must take his share of responsibility? Jane was not completely sure exactly what happened between two people to make a baby, but having lived in the countryside all her life,she was more aware of the facts involved than many of her town bred friends.
“Mr Avery must listen to reason,” she began, “perhaps I can get my papa to speak to him, to provide for you and the child.”
“No! I want no one else to know what has happened. It is enough to bear as it is without knowing that everyone at Pemberley, people who think that I am living a good life here in London, would know it has all turned to dust and grief.”
“But Grace—” Jane hesitated, bewildered. “Money—is it a question of money? But where will you go? Where will you live until…until …”
“The baby comes?” Grace laughed bitterly. “You can say the word. That’s the one thing that I do know is going to happen. There’ll be a baby. And yes, Miss Jane, it is a question of money. I have an aunt who lives on a farm down in Devon—she has agreed for me to go there but she wants twenty guineas. I have saved ten, but there is no way I can find the rest before I am unable to work or beg in the streets.”
“Twenty guineas!”
“We will need to pay the midwife when the time comes, and then there’s my keep when I can’t work, but I will gain a position as soon as I possibly can. There is a very fine family who live in the same valley as my aunt’s farm. I am sure they will have use of a good maid.”
“Grace, surely it will be far better if you go home. If I remember correctly, you have a family in a village near Pemberley. Go to them, explain what has befallen you, they will surely take you in.”
