The Handkerchief
By Jerusha Moors
Copyright @ 2016 Jerusha Moors
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
Jerusha Moors
Portland, Maine
The Handkerchief
The Midsummer Ball at Haddon Hill was a popular event among the local country gentry. Thomas Ratcliffe, Earl of Bakewell, hosted the ball every year, and all involved looked forward to it with great anticipation and delight. The Ratcliffe family and servants put a lot of work into making it a hospitable affair and one and all enjoyed the fuss of putting together the annual party. That is, all except Jane.
Jane was the youngest of the Ratcliffe children, called ‘the baby’ by her three older sisters and ‘the runt’ by her four older brothers. Six years separated her from her closest brother, Joseph, a strapping young man about town at this point in his life. All her siblings except for Joseph were married and raising families of their own, but they still came home to Haddon Hill from residences all over England for the Midsummer Ball.
Most years Jane did not mind the ball even if she did not exactly enjoy the actual party as it occurred. She was much too retiring and while she loved to dance, partners for her were scarce. It did distract her mother away from her ongoing task of finding a husband for Jane however and that made it worthwhile to Jane.
Her mother's prime objective in life at this juncture was to find a spouse for her youngest child and had been ever since Jane reached the age of eighteen. No matter how often Jane pointed out that Joseph was six years older and still in need of a wife, she was ignored. Men had a much more indefinite shelf life than women in her world. As far as Jane was concerned, she was happy to be on the shelf, and she wished that her parents and older siblings would leave her alone. She was perfectly fine with being the spinster aunt to her nieces and nephews, spoiling them and having them adore her for her leniency and treats.
Jane sighed. The dancing was in full swing, the small orchestra playing country dances and reels while the crowd whirled around the floor of the small ballroom. She had danced with her brothers and a few friends of her brothers who had been coerced into squiring their sister around the dance floor. Now she was hiding in a corner and hoping her mother would not see her behind the potted palm, tucked behind the row of chaperones.
The real reason Jane was making herself particularly scarce this year was on the dance floor, currently dancing a vigorous reel with the Vicar's elderly daughter, Mary. Charles Montgomery, Viscount Linden and the son of their neighbor, the Duke of Fenton, had decided to attend this year's ball, much to the delight of mothers with daughters to marry off as well as the young ladies hoping for a chance to become a Duchess. Her own mother had been most unbearable about it and made no secret of her desire that Jane should renew her acquaintance with the Viscount and take advantage of her childhood friendship.
It was the first year that he had ever been present at the ball, and Jane wished that he had chosen to send a polite refusal as he usually did and not appear to ruin what little enjoyment she derived from the affair.
She and Charles had been the best of friends as children. Joseph had been sent away to school, and Jane was alone at Haddon Hill. Charles was an only child, just two years older than Jane, and quite content to have the younger girl follow him around as they found adventures and quests to perform in the woods between their two properties.
Jane played princess to his knight though she preferred it when they were Maid Marian and Robin Hood. A princess must be dignified while Marian could romp as much as Robin did. They confided in each other, two lonely children who only had each other as companions. Jane adored Charles, and he was kind to the smaller girl.
Then Charles was sent away to school.
Jane endured as best she could. She impatiently waited until Charles came home for visits and the two could resume their friendship. She saw him on vacations and holidays for the next two years when they could once again see each other every day. He would tell her about his school and the other boys who were much more boisterous than quiet Charles. They mostly ignored him, and he was fine with that for the most part.
When Charles was aged fourteen and Jane aged twelve, Charles brought a friend from school home, and the small girl from the next estate no longer seemed to interest him. There had been an incident that had broken Jane's tender young heart.
They did not see each other again until Jane's first season. Her older sisters were of the type called English roses, blonde hair and blue-eyed with fair complexions. They were beautiful women who found respectable and titled husbands in their first seasons. Jane was petite with brown curls that never seemed to stay pinned in place. She was shy, and while she might be an Earl's daughter, she was still the youngest of a large brood of children, and potential suitors understood that she would not have much of a portion.
Her season was not a success.
Nor the next one, or the one after that. Jane had finally convinced her parents after the third season that she need not go to London again. Her mother clucked and fretted, then corresponded with her sisters who all offered to find a nice baron or country squire for their sister, but Jane insisted that she stay at home quietly this year. Her father took one look at her white face during an unusually uncomfortable confrontation and agreed with Jane, much to her mother's displeasure. So, she had remained at Haddon Hill this last spring.
Regardless of the manner in which Charles had treated her, Jane had secretly kept up on any news about him. She had seen him about during her time in London. During her first season, he had approached her and asked her for a dance. Jane had politely refused, saying that her dance card was full which was a blatant lie since she was standing on the side of the dance floor at the time. Charles had first looked confused and then his cheeks reddened as he bowed and walked away. That was the only time she had talked to him except for polite greetings if they met walking in the park or at the theater.
Jane was still waiting for news of Charles’s betrothal. He was a Duke's heir after all and while not the most handsome man of her acquaintance, he was still nice looking and most women of the Ton would overlook any perceived flaws in his appearance because of his title. He seemed a serious young man. There were no stories in the newspaper gossip columns about him as one who frequented gambling hells or seduced widows. As an only son, it was imperative that he marry and carry on the succession, so it was just a matter of time before he found a suitable woman to marry.
A familiar pang squeezed her heart and Jane absently rubbed at her chest, an unladylike action that if her mother saw, would bring a reprimand. Perhaps once Charles selected a bride, Jane would be able to look more kindly on the country squires that seemed to be her fate. The tiny bit of hope that she and Charles could become friends again would be gone forever. Or perhaps she would never marry, but grow old as the maiden aunt, living on at Haddon Hill or passed about to live among the families of her brothers and sisters.
"Lady Jane, are you available for the next dance?" Jane looked up from her musings, startled to find the object of them standing right in front of her. Charles had a determined look on his face and held his hand out stiffly as if brooking no objections from her. She had no choice, so she bit her lip and nodded, then rose and took his hand. Charles led her to where a set for a country dance was forming. She curtsied, and he bowed as the dance began.
Jane was flustered, but she soon fell into the familiar rhythm of the
dance. She was thankful that the steps precluded any conversation, and she mostly kept her eyes on the floor. The few times she looked up, Charles was gazing at her intently. A frisson of excitement ran down her spine, but she knew better. Charles had made his opinion of her very clear long ago.
Jane was excited. Charles had come home from school the day before and finally, finally she would see him again. The long days of waiting were over. She ran through the woods to the glade where they had so often played. She had a present for him in her pocket, and she could not wait to see his reaction to her surprise.
Her older sisters were noted needlewomen, but their mother despaired of Jane. She had labored for hours over a scrap of linen, twice tearing out the stitches. Even now the 'M' was slightly crooked. But she had embroidered the handkerchief for Charles herself, not letting her mother help at all.
She reached the clearing, but he was not here yet. She felt an attack of nerves hit as she pulled the brown-paper covered package out of her pocket. Perhaps it would be better to leave it for him on the stump of the old oak tree that they often used for their play. Charles would see it there. She could hide behind some bushes and see his surprised reaction when he found her gift. She laid the package carefully on the stump and crawled under the bushes nearby. The branches caught at her hair, and Jane was sure that she had dirtied her dress, but it would be worth the scolding that she would receive from her governess.
Jane had almost fallen asleep, lulled by the warmth of the summer day when there was loud whooping, and Charles appeared. She almost giggled at him from nerves and relief, but then another boy appeared, blonde and taller than Charles. She watched as they ran around the clearing until the new boy spotted her gift.
"What's this?" He picked it up and tossed it casually into the air. Charles's ears turned red, and he looked uneasy.
"Open it up and see," he said. "Perhaps the fairies left a gift for you, Rafe."
Jane almost crawled out to retrieve her gift. It was for Charles, not this other arrogant boy, but he had already ripped the paper off of her parcel. He waved the handkerchief out like a white flag while Charles silently watched.
"Look, it has initials on it. 'CJM,' why, I believe the fairies left this for you, Montgomery. Those are your initials after all. Or do you meet a lady here who trades you gifts for her kisses?" The boy leered, and Jane felt her stomach roll over, as when she had eaten too many comfits and felt sick.
Charles laughed, a mean sound in a high, reedy voice. "It's the little neighbor girl," he scoffed. "She fancies me, I think, but I want nothing to do with her. She's a pest."
"Why not kiss the neighbor girl?" Rafe said grinning and Jane wanted to hit him. It was not like that between her and Charles. "Isn't she pretty?"
Jane held her breath. Suddenly it was vitally important to know if Charles thought she was pretty.
"No, she's a tiny dark-haired girl, not at all the thing. Her older sisters are quite comely, but I'm afraid that she will never have their looks." Charles grabbed the handkerchief from Rafe and tossed it in the air where the breeze caught it and carried it away. "Come on. Perhaps Father will allow us to take a boat out on the pond. Let's go see."
Rafe laughed. "Or we could see if the wench in the village pub is interested in trading some kisses for coins."
Charles looked sick, not at all interested in kisses, but he turned and followed his new friend out of the woods.
Jane had run home, sobbing hysterically. Later she had gone back to the clearing, but she could not find the handkerchief. Just as well, she thought. The wind must have taken it or an animal had dragged it away.
She had not talked to Charles again for many years and made sure that she ignored him politely whenever he approached her at church or in the village.
The dance ended, and Jane curtsied to Charles's bow. He took her arm to lead her to the side of the room again.
"Lady Jane, would you like some punch?" he asked with a smile. Jane shook her head. She was not smiling, but she did not feel upset either. He was the old Charles, the one who she had first known. And something more. His manner confused her.
"No, thank you, my lord. I am quite content as I am." Her hands were balled into fists, hidden by the folds of her dress as she tried to stop their trembling. Jane wanted to get away from Charles now and find a place to hide. He had done the polite thing, stood up with the ugly neighbor girl, and now she just wanted to be left alone.
"Jane..." he said, and she jerked her face up, startled by the informal address. Charles grimaced. "No, not here," he muttered and gave a sharp bow, then walked away, leaving her to face questions and sly innuendo from her mother and sisters.