Page 17 of The Heir
“I think Mother wanted Susan out of the house before Father noticed that Ned had already paid her too much attention.” Liza drew out the last word significantly.
“Do you mean she was increasing?”
“Well, if she wasn’t, she would be soon.”
Jane’s words dried up.
It was a thing that happened. Everyone knew it. Jane herself had been pinched and handled by men at the palace. Like all the other women, she learned who to avoid and where not to walk alone.
But to find out their brother had been so careless with another person’s life . . . Anger stirred. Helplessness made it stronger.
But, of course, there was nothing to be said, because there was nothing to be done.
By the time Meg arrived with the second-best tea tray, Liza had Jane out of her sodden dress. They had changed her muslin petticoat for one of flannel and, blessedly, loosened her corset stays so Jane could breathe more easily while Liza wrestled her into her plain blue house dress with the straight sleeves and white cuffs and collar.
“Leave the tea, Meg, and take these.” Liza dumped Jane’s discarded things into Meg’s arms. “Also, I think we will need a warm compress. As you can see, Miss Jane has somehow managed to damage herself.” Liza went into the sitting room and cast herself upon the chaise lounge in a fair imitation of Mother’s customary fainting pose. “We’ll do something with your hair in a minute. Pour the tea, Jane, would you? And tell me how things are at the palace.”
Jane sat down and did as she was told. “Things are as usual. Another scene between the princess and her mother.”She says she saw a dead man on the green. She fell from her horse and might now be dying of cold and shock.
“Well, at least all you had to do was sit and watch.” Liza held out her hand, and Jane put the teacup in it. “I swear, it almost makes me want to change places with you.”
Anytime you like.Jane drank her own tea. The fresh warmth was a shock to her empty stomach. “And what was so strenuous about your day?”
“If you think running Mother’s errands and paying Mother’s calls and writing Mother’s letters—not to mention giving the orders to Cook and Mrs. Pullet because she simply cannot be bothered—is a grand way to spend your time, you’re welcome to try it. No. Wait. Forget I said that.” She waved her own words away as Jane opened her mouth. “You’d only make a mess of it.”
Jane reached for the bread and butter, and then she froze. The sound of boots on the stairs reached them.
The door opened.
Father had arrived.
“Hullo, Father!” Liza jumped to her feet, all sunshine and smiles. She ran to him and stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
“Hullo, Liza.” He beamed at her proudly. “That is a very pretty ribbon.” He touched her curls, but he was already looking at Jane. Jane felt pinned in place—drab, small, gray.
“Your mother wants you,” Father told Liza.
This was probably not true, but Liza didn’t question it. None of them would. Liza kissed him again and skipped away like a much younger girl.
Father closed the door.
“Come here, Jane.”
Jane stood and walked over to stand in front of him. Father cupped her chin in his calloused hand and turned her cheek toward the light. He pressed his thumb against the swelling. Her loose teeth shifted. Jane winced. She couldn’t help it.
“If that swelling has not gone down by tomorrow, you will stay home,” he said. “Liza can go in your place this once.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now.” He sat on the chaise Liza had vacated a moment before. “Tell me what you saw today on your ride.”
Jane blinked. Surely, he had already satisfied himself as to what happened.
“Don’t stand there like a block, girl. Tell me what you saw.”
“I . . .” Bile welled in Jane’s throat. She swallowed. “The princess wanted a gallop. I tried to stop her, Father. I promise I did—”
Father’s eyes darkened. He did not like displays of emotion. Or, rather, he did not like displays of emotions he disagreed with. Plainly, he saw no reason for Jane to become agitated by such a simple instruction.
