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“Crawford,” spat out Percy, barely able to look at the man. He went to move past him, but the man blocked the attempt.
“I am in no mood for a fight,” said Percy in a weary voice. “Stand aside.”
“I need to say something to you first,” said Crawford, his eyes flickering. “And then I shall never say anything again if you do not wish me to.”
Percy hesitated, staring at him warily. He couldn’t tell if this was just a ploy to embroil him in the drama of his lie about Jane again and warn him off.
“What is it?” said Percy, his face impassive.
The man sighed heavily. “I made it all up,” he said slowly. “There has never been an affair between Jane and me. I love her, but she does not reciprocate my feelings.” His face twisted. “I have acted dishonourably, and I am heartily ashamed of myself.”
Percy didn’t speak for a long moment. “I know that you lied about an affair. I also know that your lies were the actions of a desperate man.” He paused. “Tell me, were you working with Beatrice Prescott in this? Because she was the one who told me about this supposed affair. And I know that she is ambitious and wishes me to become her suitor.”
Crawford looked shamefaced. “Yes,” he said slowly. “It is all true. We conspired together to force the two of you apart. That way, we both might get what we wanted.” He drew a deep, ragged breath. “It was a low thing to do. It has been troubling me ever since you confronted me. I told Beatrice I cannot do it any longer. I was just on my way to Jane’s house to apologise because I knew you were going to tell her.”
“For what it is worth, you have my forgiveness,” said Percy, his mouth twisting. “All is fair in love and war, as they say.” He paused. “It might give you some measure of satisfaction that Jane will not marry me either. And that I can never marry her now, for I am being forced to marry her cousin.”
Crawford looked stunned. “I do not understand.”
“Lucy Metcalfe is as ambitious to become a countess as your friend Beatrice,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “She found Jane and me in a compromising position, and, knowing Jane’s commitment to spinsterhood, said she would agree to never speak of it if I agreed to marry Lucy. And so, for the sake of Jane’s honour, that is what I must do.”
Crawford looked troubled. He didn’t speak for a moment.
“And Jane is allowing this, instead of agreeing to marry you?” he asked.
Percy nodded. “She is. So, you see, you are not the only one who has lost in love, Crawford. Jane will not have a bar of me either.”
“You truly do love her, don’t you?” The man’s voice was filled with wonder. “I admit I never thought you did. I thought you just saw her as a good option for a wife, given her manifest qualities.” He hesitated. “I think she loves you too, Carlisle. She has changed since you arrived here. She has blossomed in a way I never thought possible. I believe you are the reason.”
Percy’s heart twisted. “I do not think Jane knows what is in her heart, and even if she did, she would not trust it. And that seems to be the end of the matter.” He gazed thoughtfully down the road. “I must go. I hope she forgives you.”
And with that, he walked quickly away. He didn’t look back. His heart felt as heavy as a stone within his chest. But at least Crawford had admitted his scheming and was sorry for it. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He wondered if Jane could ever forgive him, and they would be friends again one day. It looked like he would never know.
***
Jane was just descending the staircase to tell her sister that she would not be attending breakfast, when she stopped short. Charles was standing in the foyer with Marianne.
“Jane,” he said, looking shamefaced. “Please, I need to speak with you. It is very important.”
She contemplated his request. She wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation at all, and the sight of him filled her with anger. She wanted to tell him to just leave her alone and be done with it.
“Please, Jane,” he said again.
Jane kept staring at him. “I will only agree to speak with you if my sister remains in the room as chaperone.” Her face was hard.
“Of course,” said Marianne quickly.
They all proceeded to the drawing room. Marianne ordered tea and then sat a distance away. She kept looking over at Jane with a worried expression upon her face. Jane realised suddenly that in all the furore over what had happened with Lucy yesterday, she had quite forgotten to tell her sister about Charles, Beatrice Prescott, and the other manipulative scheme she had been subject to.
They sat in strained silence while the tea was poured. Suddenly, Jane couldn’t bear it any longer. She just wanted him to say what he had come to say and be done with it.
“Why are you here, Charles?” Her voice held an undertone of fury. “I have no patience with it any longer.”
“I have come to apologise,” he said in a halting voice. “I take it that the earl told you what I said about the two of us?”
Jane’s face tightened. “Indeed, he did. It was appalling, and quite frankly, you are better than this, Charles. To stoop to such a desperate level to get your own way is dreadful.”
He reddened. “I know. It has been plaguing me all night.” He hesitated. “It was Beatrice’s idea. She discerned how upset I was about you and the earl and said that perhaps we could drive a wedge between the two of you. She really wants to become a countess.” He almost spat the words.
