Page 85 of Scandal at Greystone Manor

Mark had said he would think of something, but he had not mentioned it again. After the fair he had seemed more cheerful, making jokes with the children and flattering Mrs Godfrey outrageously. She did not ask him how he was dealing with Isabel, but assumed all was well between them. She tried desperately to forget he had ever said he loved her. It seemed he had done so, for he stopped coming to Witherington. She told herself that was as it should be; she could not continue to rely on him for help. He had other matters nearer home to attend to. She must endure the heartache as best she could.

* * *

Mark had certainly not forgotten. He was in a state bordering on panic. There were only two weeks to go to the wedding he wanted so much to avoid and Drew had not answered his letter. Supposing he had moved on and the letter never reached him, what then? He would have to do something himself, something drastic like eloping with Jane. He knew she would never agree to that. Could he abduct her? That would be dishonourable and illegal. And whatever he did would have to be done with the consent of Isabel. He could not see her giving it. The euphoria he had felt when Jonathan arrived had long ago evaporated.

He paced the house, watched by his worried mother, went riding with Jonathan, covering mile after mile, exhausting his mounts until, one morning very early, they came to a halt at the edge of the fen. There was a landing stage there and a lopsided dwelling where the ferryman lived. The meadows on either were only dry in summer and were used for grazing cattle, which grew fat on the lush grass. There was a small rise in the ground on the right, not really big enough to call a hill, and on top of it an old hovel which had many years before been a fenman’s dwelling. It was a place Mark knew well, for he had often wandered about here as a child, frequently in the company of Teddy and his two older sisters, picking wild flowers, watching for frogs and toads, having imaginary battles in which the hovel was a fort. Happy times in which the future was unknown.

‘What in God’s name is the matter with you, Mark?’ Jonathan said, as they dismounted. ‘You are certainly not acting like the happy bridegroom. I am forced to the conclusion you do not want this wedding.’

‘No, I do not.’

‘Are you going to tell me why?’

Mark sighed and put his head into his horse’s neck. ‘I suppose I must.’ He paused, wondering where to begin. ‘I suppose it started when I offered to help Jane with her orphan project.’

‘Jane?’

‘Yes, Jane.’ He went on to apprise his friend of all that had transpired since Jonathan left for Scotland.

‘My, you are in a coil,’ his friend said when he finished.

‘I have done my best to discredit Bolsover and sorely neglected Isabel in order to help Jane, in the vain hope she would tire of me and call the whole thing off, but she seems not to mind. Jane is not a rival in her mind. If you have any idea how I can come about, I shall be glad to hear it.’

‘Short of kidnap and leaving your bride at the altar, you mean.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘No, I can see you can’t. You could try throwing yourself on the mercy of Miss Isabel.’

‘I thought of that, too, but it will not do. I would be seen as a bigger scoundrel than Bolsover, Isabel could sue for breach of promise and I would never dare show my face in Hadlea again.’ He did not add that, worst of all, Jane would hate him for it and would certainly not agree to marry him. Bolsover would win. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

‘Come, let us go back,’ Jonathan said. ‘There are still two weeks to go. Something might turn up.’

They mounted again and walked their exhausted horses back to the stables, approaching the house from the rear. Mark stopped to look at it, taking in the mellow Tudor bricks, the twisted chimneys, the mullioned windows, the stable block with its ornate clock which hadn’t told the time in years. He loved his home, every inch of it, outside and in. He loved his mother and owed her his allegiance and he had responsibilities in the village. His honour was at stake and that counted for everything. There was no alternative but to go through with the wedding. ‘Jane, forgive me.’ His lips moved on her name, but he made no sound.

With hunched shoulders and head bowed, he rode on, left his horse with Thompson, ordered the curricle to be readied and entered the house. He neither knew nor cared whether Jonathan followed him. He had to change and find Jane. She must be told and told at once while he still had the courage.

* * *

Harry and Tom had disappeared. Jane had no idea where they had gone. Neither Robert nor Emma could tell her anything, except they had been whispering together that morning. She searched every inch of the house before going outside to look in the outhouses and stables. Surely they had not run away? Where would they go? Would they try to go back to Norwich?

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