Page 59 of Fair Weather Enemies
Jane tried again to sit up, only to be forced back by Mary and Adam. Her mouth began to run of its own accord. “Oh, Mr. Wordsworth! I read your Lyrical Ballads again and again! Oh, Tintern Abbey! Oh, and the Solitary Reaper! As a miller’s daughter, I am especially drawn to that one.”
Wordsworth waved his hand impatiently. “No need to fawn, Miss Hancock. My poems are mediocre. Ask Mr. Coleridge. He will be most happy to explain my mediocrity.”
“But, Mr. Wordsworth…”
“Not another word, young lady. Do not make a fuss, and do as Mary instructs. I have found that doing as Mary says alleviates much anguish.”
Mary elbowed her husband again. “Please, William. Now, take the men and leave us alone. We must attend to your lovely admirer.”
William nodded and left with Mr. Barlow. Adam hesitated long enough to brush a hand over hers. “I will wait just outside there.” He pointed to the hallway. “Rest now.”
He left, closing the door behind him. She watched the point of his departure with disappointment and loss. Meanwhile, Mary and Aunt Hester began the process of disrobing her, starting with the gloves. In the absence of excitement, she struggled to remain awake while they stripped her to her petticoat and tucked her beneath warm blankets. Aunt Hester’s hand on her cheek brought her eyes open again.
“I will return shortly with a cold compress, dear.”
As her aunt and Mary left the room, Jane spied Adam briefly beyond the doorway perched stiff-backed in a chair, watching intently. A powerful sense of comfort settled into her soul as she considered his vigil on her behalf. The sensation brought a smile to her lips. Here she was welcoming the devoted attention of an Ashford. Who would have ever thought? The pleasing notion carried her rapidly into a deep and drifting sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Adam lasted only an hour outside Jane’s door while Hester and Mary moved in and out. Finally, the situation became untenable. He began moving into the room by degrees. First, he merely opened the door halfway so he could better monitor her while she slept. Then he moved his chair from the far side of the hallway to the doorway threshold. Next, he shuffled the chair forward until it rested just inside the room, partially blocking the doorframe. The second time Hester tripped over his feet, she yanked him into the hallway by his collar.
“Mr. Ashford,” she whispered emphatically. “Either return to the hallway or move to Jane’s side. You cannot remain halfway between. A neutral position serves no one’s best interest.”
For a moment, he wondered if Hester’s pronouncement held dual meaning. If so, her steady expression did not betray it. He peeked at Jane, who slumbered obliviously beneath a mound of blankets. “Would not sitting by her side be improper?”
Hester, hands on hips, frowned at him. “Pining for one woman when you are promised to another is improper. Against that, keeping vigil over a sick friend is nothing.”
He picked at his collar with sudden discomfort. Was her statement one of condemnation or challenge? Still, her expression provided no clue.
“Then, if I sit by her side, you would approve?”
“Yes. But only if you are sincere in your devotion. Only if you promise not to abandon her when circumstances change. She needs reliability, not false hope or empty promises.”
Adam cocked his head and frowned. “You are not speaking of the chair, are you?”
She smiled coolly. “Well, of course I speak of the chair. Of what else would I be speaking?”
He nodded and expelled a breath. “I understand.”
“Very well. What is your decision, then? Inside or out?”
Without answering, he stepped into the room, retrieved his chair, and carried it to Jane’s bedside. He sat down and glanced at Hester. She dipped her head once, opened the door fully, and departed. He turned his attention to Jane. The blankets encompassed her, leaving exposed only her face and hair, the latter spilling luxuriously over the pillow. His chest tightened with helpless alarm. He could no longer dismiss his feelings for her as incidental or temporary. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her, protect her, and make everything right for her. His body rocked forward before he realized he should not act on his desire. He leaned back into his chair, expelled a sigh, and clenched his hands together in a knot.
“Oh, Jane.”
Although no more than a whisper, the simple speaking of her name exposed his raw emotion for what it was.
Futile.
The preservation of his land and legacy was paramount, rendering any future with her impossible. But what of Jane? The terms of the contract with Mr. Rutley spun through his mind. What if she lost in this venture and landed in debtor’s prison? How could he protect her then, particularly given that he would be married to another? How deeply would he breach propriety and risk his reputation if he secreted money to Jane to purchase decent food in prison? If Miss Rutley learned of such an act, what a scandal it would cause! How it would wound her. Worse, if Mr. Rutley ever discovered his secret deed, foul actions were certain to ensue. He seemed a man who could cause someone to mysteriously meet with harm.
Adam stood abruptly from his chair in helpless frustration and loomed over his sleeping friend, his fists clenching and unclenching. If only he had known Jane—the real Jane—before agreeing to Mr. Rutley’s terms, he would have fought to negotiate another agreement. If only he had not forgotten what he once knew of her, he would have been more willing to bargain. He began to pace beside the bed, ruing the feud that had robbed him of Jane’s friendship until friendship could not be achieved. He was still pacing when Mr. Wordsworth stepped into the room.
“Sit, Mr. Ashford,” he said quietly. “You will wear a hole through my floor.”
Adam nodded sheepishly and resumed his position in the chair. Wordsworth stepped to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Your devotion to Miss Hancock is admirable. Is she your intended?”
