Page 50 of The Scarred Duchess
“You are refusing John?”
“I am.”
“Why?”
A single tear spilled down Jane’s cheek.
“Because I love him.”
Jane sat in front of her dressing table, her delicate fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the silver brush in her hand. She had always been praised for her beauty, her golden hair and sea-blue eyes the envy of many young ladies in the town of Meryton. But on this particular morning, her reflection in the mirror showed a different image. Two jagged scars ran across her face, marring her once flawless features. She donned a summer bonnet, a dark veil attached to the front, and confirmed most of her features were obscured. Then she covered the looking glass with black cloth.
“There. My reflection will forever mourn its previous state.”
She sat on her bed and waited for the knock on her door that happened every morning at this time.
“Miss Bennet, I have your breakfast tray.”
“Come in, please.”
“Yes, ma’am” Mrs Hill entered, appearing surprised to be allowed entry. After she placed the tray upon the dressing table, Jane held out a note to her.
“Please have my father send for Mr Smyth.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And have a privacy screen set up in the small parlour.” Jane described the exact manner she desired.
Jane ate her breakfast, then sat in her window-seat and stared out beyond Longbourn’s park to the rolling fields.How greatly she used to anticipate seeing John ride from Netherfield Park to visit her. Now she was broken and unfit to be seen, and would likely break his heart as well. Unless he had fallen out of love with her, a terrible pain that would somehow hurt less than what she must do now.
“Jane?” Her mother’s voice came through her door.
“Yes, Mama?”
“Will you not reconsider?”
“This subject is not up for debate.”
“Jane, please, please, you may never…”
“Never marry, Mama? No, I daresay I will not.” Jane took a cleansing breath. “I shall come down when he arrives.”
An hour later, at Mrs Hill’s warning, Jane situated herself behind the privacy screen in the small parlour. She wore her hat and veil should there be unforeseen circumstances. She sensed him—smelled him—before he announced himself. Her chest filled with hurt and longing.
“Jane?”
“Mr Smyth,” she replied.
“What? It is I, John.”
“I am releasing you from your promise.”
John gasped. “No. I do not understand you. I came from Cambridge as quickly as I could...No, I do not accept your release.”
“It is not yours to accept or deny.”
“You cannot, in so uncivil a manner, end our future together so callously.”
“Yet, I am.” She could hear the waver in her voice.Traitorous feelings!
