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Rain lashed the windows, putting an end to any dreams Jane had of sending their visitors out riding, much less taking a turn in the gardens. To her disappointment, Jane herself had not had time to explore the grounds. Surely one day soon the weather would improve? This was supposed to be summer.
As Jane and Mama made their way down the stairs towards the dining room for supper, she noticed a ribbon tied around a vase. Odd, she’d not seen that before.
“That was not there when I last walked this way,” Mama said.
“I was about to say the same.”
Mama said, “Have you seen the bookshelves in the landing? There is a ribbon tied around the handle of the glass door. I can assure you it was not there this morning.”
“Before the Jardines arrived, you mean?” Mama nodded. Jane stopped. “Have you had any time to complete the reconnoitre of the estate?”
“The interior, yes. I have drawn a sketch but shall need to retrace my steps to make sure it’s accurate. However, the ribbons are new, I am sure of it.”
As they walked on, there were more ribbons tied around the legs of chairs, tucked into the edges of paintings and tied to the tassels on the drapes. Whoever had done this had no subtlety. They had also run out of ribbons, by the looks of things, and moved on to slotting cards next to items. A bust of Pliny The Elder had a small card stuck to the top of his head. It was a calling card, and as Jane peeled it off, she found a congealing lump of floury glue on Pliny’s carved curls. The card proudly displayed the name of Lady Jardine.
Jane said, “Why would it have her card on there?”
“Because,” an assertive voice claimed as she walked out of the observatory, clicking the latch into place, “My father always meant for the next Baron to have it. As that is my son, I am marking what belongs to him.”
“Aren’t you rather counting your chickens before they hatch, my dear?” Mama said.
Epiphany breathed slowly, straightened herself, and declared with complete confidence, “My son will be the next Baron Ealing, and you can mark that. She,” pointing to Jane, “is not with child. Nor will she ever be.”
“What?” Jane demanded, her breath staggering in her throat. “How dare you!”
“It is a fact. My father is ill. It’s obvious to all and sundry he will not see out the week. Then we need wait only a few more weeks.”
Mama jumped in, “He is tired, that is all. Once rested he will be in fine fettle.”
Lady Jardine smiled with full condescension, “You may think that, but the fact is that he has not been well for some time. He always said to me that I would know he was close to leaving this world if he could not greet me with a kiss.”
“Superstitious nonsense!” Mama said.
Jane placed a hand on Mama’s arm to steady the woman’s nerves, as much as her own.
“We are to go in to supper. I see no point in creating a scene here. It is not good for the babe.”
“You are correct,” Lady Jardine said, jiggling her son on her hip. “One day all this will be yours, my little lord, and what a lovely time of it we shall have.”
“She didn’t mean yours,” Mama said.
Lady Jardine’s head rocked back and she laughed.
“Oh, chance would be a fine thing.” Then she pointed rudely at Jane and declared, “If she’s with child, I’ll eat my best bonnet!”
******
As she sat at the table, beside her husband’s empty chair, every chink of silverware on china hit a nerve with Jane. Adding to her misery, her guests were interminably noisy eaters. Jardine himself sloshed each mouthful of food about with wine, his mastication reminding Jane of a dairymaid thumping and sloshing cream into butter. The eldest daughter pushed her food around her plate with incessant creaks of metal against porcelain, looking miserable and glum. Lady Jardine held the babe to her the whole time, positing food in her mouth, chewing it, then spitting it into her spoon to smush into the infant’s dribbling mouth.
Jane nearly gagged multiple times. The only thing stopping her was the secret delight that this internal revulsion could in fact be a sign that she was with child herself. Mama had said an aversion to food and smells, and wanting to cast up one’s accounts, were all signs of a babe on the way. Holding the secret knowledge to herself, Jane pressed on through the meal, doing her best to keep the conversation light.
“I trust your journey here was uneventful? The roads have become almost impassable in this weather.” She ventured.
Epiphany stopped feeding her babe his pre-chewed food and said, “Is my father to join us at all?”
“He is resting,” Jane confirmed.
“He was resting when we arrived. Exactly how much rest does one man require?”
