Page 25 of The Duke of Ruin
"But what?" she gently prompted, and Jane blinked.
"Lord Keyford is the father of the late Duchess of Everleigh," Jane whispered, as though afraid someone might overhear them. "Catherine was close to my brother growing up, but she was even closer to Mrs Baker, for she loved to read and daydream."
Olive nodded, not wishing to say anything lest she interrupt Jane's reverie. She was more than a little curious to know about the late Catherine Ashford, and with a quick glance at Polly, she saw a similar interest in the other woman's eyes. She thought nothing of it, for the story of Catherine's demise had made the papers, and was known the length and breadth of the country. What Olive wanted to know, was if Ruan had spoken the truth when he told her that he had not killed his wife.
"Catherine was beautiful, but impetuous," Jane continued, sadly, "She was given over to great mood swings, and her father blamed Mrs Baker. He said she had corrupted his daughter with libertine ideas -- but he was wrong. Catherine was happiest here. She had such a wonderful mind, but when it wasn't being stimulated, she became bored, angry, even reckless. She was not well, I think, not well at all."
Jane paused, looking at the two women who were watching her, avidly hanging on her every word.
"All this," she whispered, nervously, "Is of course highly confidential. Poor Catherine was a troubled soul, I should not have gossipped about her so."
"You're not gossipping," Polly spoke firmly but kindly, "You're merely informing Mrs Black of why she should be cautious around Lord Keyford."
Olive started at the mention of her name, for her mind had wandered. She had not known anything about the late Duchess, and what she had learnt now left her confused.
"You said," Olive ventured,wondering if she was overstepping a line, but not caring in her urgency to know. "The first day that we met, that you didn't think that the Duke had killed his wife."
"I don't," Jane shook her head fiercely, as though to banish the very idea from the room. "I knew Everleigh as a boy, and he was kind. He married Catherine because he loved her, he would never have hurt her. It was an accident, I swear it."
The room was silent for a moment, as the three women thought on the tragic fate of Catherine Ashford. Liv felt a momentary pang of regret for Ruan, who had been castigated by society for a murder he apparently had not committed. Though he had killed Catherine's lover, that much was true.
"Well," Liv brushed down the front of her dress, and said the only thing she could think of. "How about a cup of tea?"
The ladies trooped down the stairs to the kitchen, where Liv set about boiling water for their well deserved libations. Jane had manoeuvred the conversation from the morbid to her favourite topic: Mr. Jackson.
"He simply has the most marvellous brain," she was enthusiastically telling Polly, who looked rather unimpressed. "You should see his collection of preservedlarvae, simply fascinating to view."
"I'll take your word for it," Polly looked rather green around the gills at the thought of a case full of dead insects. "Is he very romantic?" she asked, accepting a cup of steaming tea from Liv, who joined them at the table. "Your Mr. Jackson? Does he read you poems and the like?"
"He's not my Mr. Jackson," Jane protested, but Polly simply guffawed in disbelief. Shyly Jane gave both women a tremulous smile, and lowered her voice as she began to speak.
"Though, actually," she whispered, her ears turning red, "Even though he's not mine just yet, he has asked me to meet with him here, this evening. He says he has most important business to discuss."
"Cor."
This was from Polly, whose Northern accent was more pronounced when she was excited. Liv felt a strange stab of nerves for Jane, who looked so hopeful. She was no longer sure what she thought of this Mr. Jackson, now that she had heard him pontificate to the twins, and Mrs Actrol's damning opinion of him. Perhaps he was too stuffy for Jane, who though bookish and outwardly meek, was at heart a romantic.
"I hope whatever he's proposing is in your best interests Jane," she cautioned,
"I hope he proposes," Polly interjected, with a giggle, which left Jane even more red-faced.
"Oh, hush," she whispered, glancing at the kitchen door as though she feared Mr. Jackson was outside listening. "What Mr. Jackson and I share is a mutual love of the academics. I couldn't hope that a man of his ilk would even deign to consider marrying me."
"But you're the daughter of a Viscount, and pretty as a peach!"
Jane started at Polly's indignant outburst, though she looked terribly pleased to have been called pretty. She was, in fact, very pretty; with soft, alabaster skin like fresh snow and huge amber eyes behind her spectacles. It was a wonder no one had ever told her before.
"Oh," she brushed away Polly's compliment. "I'm not. Julian says I'm as pale as a ghost from staying indoors reading, and that no man would ever love a woman as bookish as I."
"Who's this Julian then?" Polly snorted, "He sounds like a right prig."
"My brother."
There was an awkward silence, in which Liv felt herself seething with anger at the bullying Lord Deveraux while Polly frowned.
"Don't listen to a word he says, Jane," she consoled her friend, reaching across the table and patting her hand.
"Oh I'd love to have to never listen to a word he says again," Jane pasted a brave smile on her face, and stood up, "But, alas, I must attend luncheon back at the house with him. For Lord Payne is visiting and I have been summoned to the table."
