Page 52 of A Victim, A Viscount, And Miss Mifford
"What ails you, child?" Mrs Hardbottle queried, as she noted Jane's posture of despair.
"It's just my stomach," Jane replied, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort.
"I thought it was your eye?" Mrs Hardbottle peered at her in confusion.
"It's all of it," Jane sighed, leaning back against the carriage seat.
Everything ached, but especially her heart.
It was a credit to Mr Mifford that Jane managed to get any sleep after she had returned home, let alone three hours. When Mrs Hardbottle had deposited her at the door of Primrose Cottage, the entire family had come out to greet her.
"Is everything alright, Jane?" Emily had queried, nervously.
"Are you hurt?" Eudora had cried, taking in Jane's dishevelled appearance.
"Is that the Viscount Plumpton's carriage?" Mrs Mifford's voice had cut across both her daughters excitedly, "Jane dear, do you have news you wish to share with us? Oh, I knew this day would come."
Mercifully for Jane, Mr Mifford had taken charge, instructing Jane to go upstairs and rest. Nora had then brought up water for a bath and once she had washed—and explained to the maid that Flora Bridges was expected to make a full recovery—Jane had crawled into bed and slept soundly for the remainder of the afternoon.
When she awoke, it was evening and her stomach was rumbling with hunger. From downstairs, Jane could hear the sounds of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen, and the scent of something delicious lingered in the air.
Jane jumped from her bed and hastily dressed herself, tying her hair into a loose knot atop her head. There was little cause to spend much time on her toilette, she reasoned, when the only people who might see her were her family.
As she tripped her way down the staircase, Jane half-heartedly hid a wide yawn behind her hand. Lud, but she was—
"Tired?"
A familiar voice finished Jane's thought for her. She opened her eyes and glanced down into the hallway, where she spotted Lord Crabb—freshly washed and dressed after their afternoon's adventures—smiling up at her.
"Just a little," Jane answered, after a moment's delay, "How lovely to see you, Lord Crabb. Have you just arrived?"
The viscount did not misunderstand the subtext to her question—namely, why was he standing alone in the hallway—and he smiled.
"I was in the parlour room with your parents and sisters, when we heard you coming downstairs. As I had expressed a wish to speak with you privately, your mother thought it best I do so now."
So, Mama had arranged an ambush, Jane thought with a smile. Little did Mrs Mifford know, however, that Lord Crabb's wish to speak with Jane privately had nothing to do with marriage—he merely wished to talk murder.
"I'm afraid that the library is the only room which might allow for privacy," Jane replied, brightly, "And referring to it as a room might be considered a bit of a stretch by some."
She finished her descent of the steps and gestured for Lord Crabb to follow her to the library. Within her chest her heart was beating a nervous tattoo, but Jane refused to acknowledge it. She would not allow her mother's fantasies to influence reality, she thought stubbornly. Lord Crabb had not come to propose, he had come to inform her what had happened in Hillside House.
"Well," Jane said brightly, once they were squished into the library with the door left slightly ajar, "How did you fare afterwards? Did Mr Adonis confess to his crimes?"
"Yes," the viscount sighed, "He confessed to purchasing a vial of Flora's tonic and tainting it with nightshade. He then gifted it to Lord Crabb, hoping that he would drink it on his wedding night. Mr Adonis did not foresee Lord Crabb 'testing the waters' beforehand. Luckily, I suppose, for had the viscount expired after the wedding night I fear most would have put his death down to excitement and Mr Adonis would have made a tidy profit. Mr Marrowbone was sufficiently convinced of Adonis' guilt and has taken him to Cirencester to await trial."
"He will be pleased to see his hard work well rewarded," Jane replied, dryly, certain that Mr Marrowbone would try claim the victory of catching Mr Adonis for himself.
"Perhaps I shall reward him by awarding him the post of constable on a permanent basis," the viscount mused, eliciting a smile from Jane. There was nothing that Mr Marrowbone would like less.
"How is Miss Hughes?" Jane asked, as a silence threatened to fall between them, "She must be relieved to know that her ordeal is at an end."
"Indeed she is," the viscount nodded in agreement, "Her father is certain that in time she will recover."
Jane waited for Lord Crabb to continue, hoping that, perhaps, he might drop into conversation that Miss Hughes had apologised for attempting to seduce him but, of course he did not. He was too much of a gentleman to do such a thing.
"I wish to apologise," Jane finally said, as she realised that if she left it unsaid, she would regret it for the rest of her life, "Regarding that—ah—encounter I witnessed on the night of the assembly. While you were gone to get help, Miss Hughes told me clearly what happened. You were not at fault and I am dreadfully sorry for thinking that you were."
The library really was too small to hold two people, Jane thought wildly, especially when one of those people was as tall and broad as Lord Crabb. The viscount seemed to be occupying far more space than was polite, as he frowned thoughtfully in response to her apology. He was also hoarding all the air, Jane thought dumbly, as her own breath became laboured as she waited for him to speak. Really, it was unconscionably rude of him...
