***
Jane was up at her usual time the morning after the Midsummer Ball. She sat in the morning parlor with her mother, sisters, and sisters-in-law as they reviewed the events of the ball, gossiping over the ladies' dresses and the behavior of the men. Their menfolk were all out for an early morning ride, attempting to clear their heads after the night of dancing and cards. Jane was quiet, working on her needlework and nodding when appropriate. Her family was used to her silence.
She had come a long way from her first tentative stitches. Jane was now the finest needlewoman in her family and her handiwork decorated much of the fine linens for their bed chambers, undergarments, and even her brothers' waistcoats.
The women all paused when the door opened and Simms, their butler, walked into the room. He looked at Jane's mother and announced, "Viscount Linden to see you."
There was a stunned silence, and then Lady Bakewell blinked her eyes. "Please allow him to enter, Simms. And order a tray from the kitchen. He might like some refreshment." Every woman in the room turned and stared at Jane with curiosity and interest.
Jane blushed as Charles entered the room, resplendent in his morning clothes despite it being too early in the day for such a call. He bowed to the ladies, but his eyes immediately went to Jane sitting in her corner. He politely greeted them all, addressing her mother first. The ladies were much flustered but pleased and curious to have a gentleman call so early on the day after the ball. There were many sly glances from them between Charles and Jane.
Charles cut through their chatter rather abruptly. He was a polite man, but he could assume the arrogance of a ducal heir when necessary. "I was hoping that I could persuade Lady Jane to take a walk with me in your gardens. The day is fine, and the exercise would be enjoyable."
Every head in the room swiveled towards Jane. She swallowed hard but immediately rose from her seat, happy to get away from all their eyes on her even if she was confused by Charles's attention.
"Jane dear, send for a bonnet and a shawl. There is a slight breeze this morning." Her mother addressed her, and Jane murmured her assent.
She and Charles waited in the hallway while a maid went up to her room to fetch her things. Charles did not speak, and Jane's mind was in too much of a whirl. Still, when he held out his arm to take hers, she felt the tingle of his touch much as she had last night when they were dancing. He led her around the corner of the house towards the gardens. Jane would not look at the window of the morning parlor for fear that the faces of her family was glued to the window and would embarrass her further.
Charles! She stole a glance at him as he walked quite slowly and deliberately down the path between the flowers. Her mother's gardens were extensive and famed for the layout and the color of the plantings. Lady Bakewell had a rose arbor that was the envy of half of England. Charles headed directly for it. He chanced a glance towards the house, but Jane was conscious that they had passed beyond the sight of anyone looking out at the gardens. It was not strictly permissible for a young lady to be alone with a gentleman like this, but her mother was not that far away. Indeed, she could hear the gardeners talking as they worked on nearby beds.
Jane slowly let out a deep breath. She was barely touching Charles's arm, but she could feel the heat of his body as he walked next to her. A clean sandalwood scent tickled her nostrils, one that Jane remembered from their dance last evening. She knew her pulse was beating wildly, but she had no means to slow the rhythm. Whatever did Charles want with her?
They had reached the rose arbor, and he stopped before a stone bench, indicating that he wanted her to seat herself. Jane settled herself, clenching her hands together in her lap in a most unladylike way. Charles was definitely working himself up to something. He looked down at her with a scowl as if she had done something to displease him which was ridiculous when she had barely spoken to him for several years.
Charles looked away and then took a few steps to a bush blooming with deep-red roses. He pulled a penknife out of his pocket and cut a beautiful blossom, lush and dark with color, then turned to Jane.
"For you, my lady." He held it out for her to take.
Jane was bewildered, but she took the rose only to cry out and drop it as a thorn drove into her finger. Charles rushed forward and sat next to her, taking her hand gently in his.
"Jane! I am so, so sorry. What a clod I am! I should have removed the thorns before handing it to you."
She slowly opened her hand to see a few drops of blood dripping from the wound into the palm of her hand. Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to bind her injury.
"Let me take you back to the house so that it might be tended." Charles was babbling, but Jane had stilled, the hurt forgotten as she stared at the pristine linen of the cloth around her hand. She reached with her left hand and traced the crooked 'M' on the cloth.
"Jane, are you all right? I was trying to be romantic, but I'm a hopeless case." Charles's face was white, and he looked as if he might pick her up and carry her bodily to the house.
Jane smiled, suddenly calm and utterly certain of him. "It's only a pinprick. It will be fine."
Charles huffed out a sigh and slumped on the bench.
"You kept the handkerchief."
"What?" Two red spots appeared on Charles's cheeks, and he looked at her with uncertainty. "Of course, I kept it. You made it for me."
Jane looked down again and blinked tears from her eyes, but the handkerchief was still the same. Except it now had a dark red stain from her blood.
"Oh, I've marred it."
"Perhaps the laundress can remove the stain," Charles said fiercely. "It doesn't matter because I will keep it. It would make it that much more precious to me."
Jane's eyes widened. "How did you get it? I went back, but I could not find it."
Charles closed his eyes as if in pain. Then he looked at her and took her left hand. "I was afraid that you were hiding there that day. That was the only reason I could think of so that your change of attitude made sense."
Jane nodded her head in agreement. "I heard everything."
"I was a silly boy, trying to find his way among other boys who were quite different from me. Rafe was the leader of our class, and I wanted him to like me, but I soon realized that he was not a nice person. I was only showing off for him when I found your package, and I certainly never meant to hurt you. It was a foolish jape from a young idiot of a boy."
A pain near her heart that Jane had carried for years eased. "I came back after to see if I could recover the handkerchief. I was going to burn it."
"I came back almost immediately with some excuse and retrieved it." Charles smiled tenderly. "I carry it with me always."
"Why would you do such a thing?" Jane's heart was beating very fast, and she looked down at the linen wrapped around her hand. It was such a poor scrap of a thing.
Charles placed a finger under her chin and gently pushed her face back up until she was forced to look at him. "Don't you know, dearest Jane? I fell in love with you many years ago, and my regard has never faltered. I only hope that you will allow me to court you in hopes of changing your opinion of me for the better."
He gazed into her eyes, and Jane could see the anxiety he was trying to hide. It gave her a sudden burst of confidence. This young man who could have any bride he chose, who was the heir to a Duke, wanted to court her. And he loved her.
She leaned forward and quite shockingly touched his lips with her own. It was her first kiss, and she was not quite sure how to proceed, but Charles recovered quickly and molded his lips to hers. He pulled his head back and gave her a warm look, then framed her face with his hands and leaned forward to kiss her again. This time, the kiss was much deeper, and they were both panting when they pulled apart.
"Perhaps it should be a short courtship," Charles said with a wry grin.
Jane smiled and placed her hand, still wrapped in the handkerchief, over Charles's heart.
"I have alwa
ys loved you, too."
***
Jane sat dry-eyed as her children and neighbors gathered around her in the front parlor of Fenton Hall. Alec, her oldest sat beside her. She supposed that she would need to begin calling him "Your Grace." He was now the Duke of Fenton, and she was the Dowager Duchess. How strange after all these years to think of herself as the Dowager. Charles would be so amused by her new title.
She blinked. How odd this was! Would she continue to attempt to converse with Charles for the rest of her life? It did not seem possible that her dearest husband would not wake with her tomorrow morning. She shook her head, and the movement attracted Alec's attention.
"Mama, are you all right?" he asked in a worried tone. She knew the children were concerned about her. From the time they had married, she and Charles had never been apart. She had nearly birthed Isabella in the ducal carriage on the way to London because she would not stay behind when Charles had to take his seat in the House of Lords. Charles had been uncharacteristically angry and so frightened for her. She was stubborn about it, though, and Isabella had been born in the warm confines of Fenton House once they arrived in London.
Jane drew her attention back to the troubled countenance of her eldest. "I'm fine, Alec. I just need to check on something."
"Mama," he started to speak but paused as she arose from the chair. He also stood and took her arm. Jane was fragile, and it felt right to rely on Alec's sturdy arm. Geoffrey also rose and came to her other side.
No one looked up as the three passed one more time to the next room. In truth, Jane had made this trip several times already, but she had to be sure. The room was heavily swathed in black hangings, and a polished elm coffin with brass furnishings sat on a table in the middle of the room. Candles lit the room, but it was still gloomy. Jane sighed. Charles would hate this. He loved light and laughter, not sadness.
She motioned to the lid and Alec grimaced, but he did as his mother asked. Geoffrey stood at the foot, and they carefully lifted the lid off the coffin one more time.
She gazed once more at the beloved features of her husband. Charles looked peaceful lying on the padded velvet, but lonely. She reached into the inside pocket of his coat and drew out the faded scrap of linen one last time. The spot from her blood had never really come out, and she traced the crooked 'M' with the finger that still had a small scar left from the prick of a rose thorn. Jane carefully placed the handkerchief back in the place where Charles had always kept it, next to his heart.
And there it would stay forever.
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Author’s Note
Jerusha Moors grew up in Connecticut but currently lives in Portland, Maine. Her sister introduced her to the books of Georgette Heyer and she never outgrew her love of romance books, especially from the Regency period. She hopes you enjoy her stories and books about those times and will follow her on social media. And please leave a review.
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Always – Richard and Anne’s story (short story)
Abandon – Aubrey and Lucy’s story
Advantage – Jamie and Eleanor’s story
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