Page 9 of A Stormy Season

She was helped inside by the footman, and as she settled against the seat cushions, she thought of Catherine, alone in her room above the shop—the poor girl. She considered different ways the two of them could make more money, enough that Catherine could get a decent place to live. Perhaps they could open another shop, even expand to other towns like Bath. She would have to put in some time planning their expansion.

When she arrived home, Jane was greeted by a servant. “Mr. Gilchrist and Mr. Watley are waiting for you in the sitting room.”

Mr. Luke Watley? What was he doing there?

Jane took off her bonnet and gloves and went into the sitting room, where Henry and Luke Watley both stood to greet her, looking quite somber.

“Jane, you know Mr. Luke Watley,” Henry said.

“Yes, of course. We spoke this morning in the park.”

“Mr. Watley and I have reason to believe that a man with evil intent followed him and his son into the park and that he made note of your interaction with them.”

“I don’t understand. A man with evil intent?”

Henry hesitated, glancing at Mr. Watley.

“Miss Gilchrist,” Mr. Watley said, his jaw flexing, “my home was ransacked today while my son and I were at the park, and my butler was seriously injured by the intruder.”

“Oh no! Is your butler all right? What I mean to say is, will he recover?”

“He has not regained consciousness. We have consulted a surgeon and a physician and neither of them know if he ever will.” The man’s breath seemed to leave him as he said the words, his shoulders sagging. He took a sip from the glass in his hand, as if to distract himself.

“I am terribly sorry. That is most dreadful.” Truly, she felt a bit sick at the thought of such violence on an innocent servant. She imagined how she would feel if such a thing happened to their butler, and she wished she could punish that intruder herself.

“I was concerned,” Mr. Watley said, clearing his throat, “that you might be in danger. He might think you and I have a closer association than we actually do.”

“But why is the man so dangerous, and why does he mean you harm, if I may ask?” But as soon as she said the words Jane wished she could take them back, for this must undoubtedly have to do with Mr. Watley’s wife and the rumors about her unfaithfulness.

“He is a revolutionary,” Henry said, “intent on overthrowing Britain’s monarchy. His name is Lenoir.”

Mr. Watley did not meet her gaze as he said in a wry tone, his bottom lip curling, “He was an associate of my wife’s. It seems likely that he thinks she has hidden something incriminating in my house.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is Jeffrey safe?”

“I have just returned from taking Jeffrey to my home in the country. It is only a half day’s ride in the carriage from London, but I thought he’d be safer there.”

“I told Mr. Watley that I thought you were safe, that it’s unlikely Lenoir will bother you,” Henry said. “But he wanted to make sure you knew the man was dangerous.”

“What does he look like, this Lenoir?” She tried to recall the few men she had seen in the park that morning.

“He has dark hair and eyes and a black mustache and a beard that is small and comes to a point.” Henry used his hand to indicate a short beard that came just below his chin.

“I do recall seeing a man of that description.” Jane remembered exactly where he’d been standing, but her memories of his face were indistinct. “Was he thin, with a narrow face?”

“Yes, that is him,” Henry said.

Mr. Watley looked a bit pale as he took another sip of his drink. The poor man. Lenoir had been rumored to be his wife’s paramour, but even worse if she was involved with revolutionaries. No one wanted a repeat of what had so recently happened in France.

Well, that was not entirely true. There were people who would love to see an overthrow of Great Britain’s government, much as France’s had been violently overthrown and their monarchy executed.

“Truthfully, anyone who was a close friend of the late Mrs. Watley is probably in more danger than you are,” Henry said. “But better to be safe than sorry. We both think you should take every precaution and, at the very least, not go on any more solitary walks for a while.”

“I could not live with myself if you were injured because of me, Miss Gilchrist.” Mr. Watley’s face was stoic now, his jaw and mouth set in hard lines.

Men did not like showing emotion. But she understood. Jane herself was quite careful not to show a lot of emotion in public. It was not an acceptable practice, according to Society rules and norms.

“I thank you for your concern for my welfare,” Jane said. “I shall take care to not be alone, and I’m sure I shall be well.” She was suddenly struck with how thoughtful and courteous it was of Mr. Watley to be so concerned for her safety. Most men in the same situation would not have put themselves out in such a way, especially when it had to do with an unfaithful wife. Such humiliation must be quite difficult to bear.