Page 54 of The Scarred Duchess
Jane retracted her hand. “I would thank you not to placate my vanity—a trait I no longer possess.”
“I would never be so condescending?—”
Jane interrupted him. “I cannot abide platitudes from one who once claimed his adoration of my perfection.” She replaced her veil. “Please do me the consideration of seeing yourself out.”
She joined Miss Elizabeth at the work table. John rose and left. She never once looked back to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Colonel Redmond stood in the vestibule of Matlock House as his mission for the Duke of Wellington placed him there early that morning, well before acceptable receiving hours; his sole concern was to keep his commander’s interest in the earl’s second son from the gossips.
As he waited, he recalled the one-sided fisticuffs, ending in savagery.
Richard Fitzwilliam entered the ring to face three men, two popinjays, and a veteran brawler. The two gentlemen had answered when their honour was called out; the brawler was, in the adjutant’s opinion, a disgraceful addition to tip the balance of the melee in favour of the challenged.Who knew it would go so awry?
He could still smell the coal fire and the mustiness of sweat that comes with such places as Figg’s. He remembered the room’s energy, so vibrant you could not hear a thought in your head. And the anticipation.
Fitzwilliam had stood loose, his stance relaxed, his toned body poised and ready for battle. With one look from him, theveteran brawler promptly fled the ring. That left the two flabby popinjays.Lambs to the slaughter.Seven seconds later, the two fell to the ground. Bloody. Insensate. Injured.
The duke had briefed him that the two victims had insulted the future officer’s sisters to such a degree that retaliation was inevitable. He offered no further explanation. In the face of the previous evening’s carnage, he now understood that everyone—save the duke—had underestimated the young man’s capabilities.
“If you would follow me, sir?”
Colonel Redmond followed the butler Smythe to Lord Matlock’s study. The goal: commission his son to join the Regulars and kill as many of the enemy as humanly possible.
After watching the lad’s actions last night, that number, favourable to the kingdom, will be inexplicable.
As the winter began to turn to spring, Jane found she had fewer excuses to remain in seclusion but no less desire to do so. She had reached the limits of her patience with the community staring at her. Was it not enough that she despised her looking glass? Did her neighbours have to mirror what she felt when seeing her reflection? Her family accepted and loved her for who she was. Every time her consciousness soothed her breast, her heart would again render it asunder.
Where Papa saw a perfect diamond, her eye discerned flaws. Where Mama proclaimed beauty, she saw a beast. What her sisters admired as exemplary, she despised as deplorable.
As the months, and then a full year passed, Jane hid from a society that expected her to come out, dance, and entertaineligible callers. No gentleman would call upon a wounded sparrow. No neighbours would ask for a set. Although she would disappoint her parents with her decision, she would not come out.Not until my majority. A lady must keep her promises.
John continued to send her tokens of what she determined to think of as friendship. She smiled at the vase holding the season’s early jonquils. Was John intimating she would experience a rebirth? Did he continue to confess his admiration?Foolish, foolish thoughts!
Jane forced away any notion of romance; she thought of her duty towards her family—her sisters. Her father had tasked her with finding an occupation. As she would never marry—couldnever marry—she would act the governess and track her sisters’ progress.
She had applied herself diligently to her lessons to set the example for her sisters; they worked hard to emulate her. Elizabeth was a wonder. Papa was right to bring extra masters to engage her.There was nothing her dear sister did not excel at, save for drawing—her active mind disallowed her to stay still long enough to sketch a proper line. Besides wielding a charcoal stick, Elizabeth, in Jane’s opinion, had no peer. Jane reviewed Elizabeth’s accomplishments: Pianoforte, mastery ability; in public, she played only duets with Mary. Singing, her contralto was mesmerising, but shared only within family gatherings. Dancing, her lithe figure glided across the floor.
As did all Bennet women, come to think of it.Oh, Mama, thank you.
She continued reviewing: Greek, Latin, French, Italian, German. Papa denied her nothing from his library. Elizabeth had read nearly every tome on his shelves, regardless of language. Chess, accomplished.Lizzy is our father’s daughter.
Jane turned the page.Mary. Dearest Mary.Heraccomplishments are in proportion to Lizzy’s. But if Elizabeth was a wonder, Mary was a changeling. She had gone from sermons to Shakespeare and had never looked back. Her appetite for philosophy and languages had replaced blind piety with a practical mindset. Like Elizabeth, Mary revelled in the follies and foibles of life’s happenstances. The speed of her witty repartees with Elizabeth staggered her imagination. Where Elizabeth’s retorts bordered on mirthful wit, Mary’s displayed a broader understanding and, therefore, a more mature aspect.
“Lizzy and Mary will marry very different men.”
Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary often walked the estate and made tenant visits under the direction of their mother; they were always accompanied by Mr Legget. One morning at breakfast, Jane spoke of her desire to include Kitty, who was of an age to help and whose hands would be helpful in carrying baskets to the tenant houses.
Mama set down her cup of tea and said, “Today, you take baskets to the Pease family, do you not?”
“We do,” Jane replied.
“As the Pease’s cottage is ever so close, we can go there and back in no time,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps Papa can give Mr Leggett something else to do for once?”
“Can you not, Papa?” asked Mary. “Why must he always follow us about?”
He folded his newspaper. “Franny, I daresay Lydia and Kitty ought to be about their lessons.”
