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His face dropped. “You can never stay long. It seems you do not have time for your old friends any longer, Jane. Perhaps associating so closely with an earl has turned your head a little.”
Jane gave him a withering look. “That comment was beneath you, Charles. I am going to ignore it entirely.”
“It is true, though,” he persisted. “You have changed, Jane. And not in a good way.” His eyes took in her gown, the same one she had worn to church. “The way you dress, for instance. At first, I thought it a good thing that you are starting to take pride in your appearance, but now I am not so sure. It is entirely for his benefit, isn’t it?”
Jane glared at him. “Enough, Charles. I agreed to meet you here against my better judgement, and now I am regretting it even more. The way I dress, what I say, whom I speak to…none of it is your concern. You are my friend, not my keeper. Do you understand?”
His face was tight with anger now. They glared at each other for a moment. Jane kicked herself that she had ever agreed to this. He just couldn’t let it go.
“You know how I feel about you,” he said in a low, furious voice. “I understand you cannot reciprocate my feelings, but how do you think it makes me feel that you flaunt yourself with him under my nose?”
Jane shook her head incredulously. “I am not flaunting myself!” She paused, trying to contain her anger. “By the way, how is it that you and Beatrice Prescott are as thick as thieves now? I thought you despised her. You always told me you did.”
His face darkened. “Beatrice is none of your concern. But I must say that she is acting nicer towards me thanyouare at the moment, Jane. Perhaps I shall turn my attention towards her since you refuse to even contemplate me in that way.”
Jane laughed. “Good! I shall be glad of it. You are welcome to her.” She shook her head again. “I cannot believe that you have dragged me here to argue with me like this again. I have no patience for it any longer, Charles. Good day.”
She turned on her heel, marching stiffly away, ignoring his entreaties. Inwardly she kicked herself for having agreed to this meeting. It seemed that she and Charles had reached an impasse, and they could not get around it.
She had hoped that they could mend their friendship and put his declaration of love behind them, but it didn’t look promising. He just wasn’t the same, easy-going person around her any longer. He wanted to keep picking at her rejection of his love, turning it into a sore that would not heal.
She scurried down the lane back towards the town. Suddenly, she saw a figure on horseback trotting towards her. To her dismay, she realised it was none other than Beatrice Prescott. Jane frowned. What was the lady doing riding this remote lane? It wasn’t anywhere near her home.
But she must greet her. Convention demanded it.
“Good day, Beatrice,” she called, gritting her teeth as she waved to the lady. She kept up the pace of her walk to indicate she didn’t wish to stop and chat.
Beatrice stared down at her, her eyes widening. “Why, Jane Metcalfe! Whatareyou doing wandering around by yourself out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Beatrice,” said Jane crisply. “I suppose it is a nice day for a walk, or in your case, a ride.”
Beatrice smiled lazily. “So, it is.” A pause. “Had any visits from the Earl of Carlisle lately? You are fast becoming a favourite of his. Everyone has noticed.”
Jane ignored the question entirely. “I cannot linger, Beatrice. Have a nice day.”
She kept walking at a brisk pace, not looking back. After a moment, she heard the thundering of horse’s hooves and breathed a sigh of relief. Beatrice was continuing on her ride and had decided to leave her alone. Praise the Lord.
She frowned, thinking about the lady. Was it a coincidence that she had encountered her on this remote lane when the only house at the end of it belonged to Charles’s uncle and aunt? Was Beatrice Prescott going to visit Charles Crawford? It would make sense that she was. Now, Jane really started to wonder about their sudden, inexplicable closeness.
She was still thinking about it when she entered the house, tossing her bonnet and gloves on the hallstand. She heard voices coming from the parlour. A man’s voice which was not her father’s, as well as Marianne and Lucy’s voices.
Curious, she walked into the room, then stopped short. The Earl of Carlisle was sitting on a sofa, sipping tea. Her sister and cousin were seated across from him. He rose when he saw Jane, bowing his head. She curtseyed low, more to hide the confusion and alarm on her face. She hadn’t been expecting him at all.
“Jane,” said Marianne. “Come and join us for tea. You had a pleasant walk along the beach?”
Jane did as she was asked, feeling her colour rise. She had told her sister and the others that she was going for a solitary walk along the beach. Even though Marianne knew all about her long, close friendship with Charles and that there was nothing more to it, Jane knew her sister would not approve of her meeting him privately at the hayshed.
Marianne would scold her, telling her that anyone could see them and draw conclusions, thus ruining Jane’s reputation entirely. So, it had seemed easier not to tell her where she was really going.
“It was a pleasant walk,” said Jane, her cheeks burning, as she accepted a cup of tea. “The sea breeze was invigorating.”
Lucy stared at her. “Why do you have a bramble stuck to the hem of your gown?”
Jane laughed awkwardly, picking off the thorned branch. “I must have walked through some without realising it.”
“There are no brambles on the beach, Jane,” said Lucy, pursing her lips. “Only sand.”
Jane glared at her. “I did not just walk along the beach, Cousin. Perhaps you would like a full itinerary of where I walked? I would be happy to supply it to you if you are so interested.”
