Page 10 of Harrowing Hall
“It would.”
And so, he did later that evening after Maude expressed time and time again how important it was to her. How surely, they could help in some way because Jane deserved happiness. Deserved the same love Maude and Blake shared. And he agreed. He had always thought highly of Jane. He continued to ponder how to go about things until he came up with a plan. One he was eager to share with Maude the next morning, but alas, he did not see her until the following evening.
Then, to be sure, it became hard to focus on anything but her.
Chapter Seven
“What do youthink?” Maude asked Jane when her new friend joined her the next evening in her room prior to the ball. She fingered the silky material of her glorious new cream-colored gown and touched her hair. “Do you think Blake will like it?”
As a rule, if not always, Jane acted differently when Blake was not around. Where the first day Maude had arrived, she had put on airs, her behavior was altogether different now. While she still pretended to be taken by Blake in his presence, she seemed wholly unconcerned when alone with Maude.
Something she decided it was high time to address, giving Jane no time to respond to her original question. “Why do you pretend to care for Blake when you clearly love someone else?”
Some women might be put off by such a forward question, but it needed to be asked.
Jane seemed flustered. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean, your act is falling flat, my friend.” Maude took Jane’s hand, eager to comfort her so that she might confess. She had meant to wait until Blake confirmed her suspicions at the ball, but she was too impatient. “Not only does it make no sense you would wound me by flirting with my fiancé, but I saw the way you looked at the seamstress’s brother. The way he looked at you.” She tilted her head in question. “There is love there, is there not? For surely, I saw something most poignant between you two.”
Jane shook her head before her eyes welled, and she nodded.
“Oh, dear.” Maude urged her to sit beside her and gave her a handkerchief. “I am right, then? You are in love with the seamstress’s brother?”
“Aye. His name is Hugh.” Jane sniffled and dabbed her eyes. “And I have loved him for some time now.” She shook her head. “But it cannot be. My father will never allow it.” She wiped away another tear. “Only Lord MacLauchlin will do.”
“Because he will not demand a dowry?” Maude prompted when Jane slumped her shoulders, defeated.
“Aye, and because he’s titled, of course.” Jane dragged in a ragged breath. “Not just that, but he would bring prestige to my father, for he is a MacLauchlin. That means something in these parts.” She wiped away another tear. “Add to that, he counts the Marquess of Durham as his closest cousin and a duke of all things, as one of his dearest friends.”
Maude and Blake had spoken at length about a great many things, so she knew of Lord Rothesay of Argyll, now Duke of Argyll. How could she not when her sister Prudence of all people, had nearly tarnished his reputation by nicknaming him Rothesay the Scoundrel years ago?
But that was neither here nor there at the moment. What mattered was easing Jane’s distress and figuring out a way for her to be with Hugh. It seemed preposterous that Blake could marry a commoner because he was a man, but Jane could not do the same because she was a woman. One grown enough that she should not be under her father’s thumb so much anyway.
So how to navigate around him?
“You should not, under any circumstances,” Prudence had written, “interfere in other people’s business. Especially those above your station.”
“I would never,” she had written back, expecting she very much would. “That would be highly inappropriate.”
“I will see this fixed.” Much preferring the joy she had seen in Jane’s eyes when she looked at Hugh, Maude rested her hand on Jane’s shoulder in comfort. “Both Blake…I mean Lord MacLauchlin, and I will.”
“Oh, you can call him Blake around me.” A teary yet teasing glint made its way into Jane’s gaze before she seemed to catch what Maude had said, and her eyes went wide. “Tell me Lord MacLauchlin does not know about Hugh. That—”
“I can tell you no such thing because Blake and I do not keep secrets.” Except for Harrowing Hall, it seemed. For that clearly held a secret or two more. So said the bagpipes that had just begun their sweet nightly trill despite the music springing to life downstairs. “He knows, and I assure you, he will help make things right.”
Before Jane could respond, Maude stood and swirled, still uncertain about her appearance. Her gown was gorgeous, but what of her hair being mostly down? Of the way her dress plumped up her cleavage a tad more than she was used to? “So, what do you think, Lady Jane?” Doing her very best to distract her, she smiled, pulled her friend to her feet, and admired Jane’s dress. “Will he think me half as lovely as you, for that dress is exceptionally beautiful?”
“Aye, but not nearly as bonnie as yours.” Properly distracted, Jane put a hand to her heart and admired Maude’s dress. The autumn flowers woven into her hair. The beautiful but ancient-looking pearls that had mysteriously arrived hours ago that complimented it perfectly. “No lass will rival you this eve, Miss Maude, for you are stunning.” While awed, her gaze seemed a little off as she grazed her fingers over Maude’s necklace. “And these…so magnificent.”
If Maude were not mistaken, Jane shivered a little before she dabbed her eyes, embraced Maude unexpectedly, and then dashed off in a hurry, claiming she would see her at the ball.
“Well, that was odd,” she said to no one in particular, touching her pearls. “You would have thought she saw a ghost when nobody in this castle is actually willing to see one.” So said the tightly locked door of Harrowing Hall. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. “Nor hear one if those bagpipes are anything to go off of.”
Which made her more determined than ever. So determined, that she swiped a tiny hairpin as well as her golden mask off the dressing table and headed that way. She knew it would be locked. Always was. But she had to try one more time. Because maybe, just maybe, on this eve of all eves, it would work.
“Or perhaps you will just open,” she murmured, resting her hand on the door’s ancient handle. “For no other reason than you want me to hear your music more….”
She trailed off when she turned the knob and pushed only for the door to give way.
