The King’s Mistress. Gillian Bagwell

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СКАЧАТЬ small,” he said. “And yet so strong. You’d make a fearsome soldier, Jane, and I honour your courage and your spirit, no matter what your sister may think.”

      “Withy has no good opinion of me, whatever I do.”

      “I think you know already what I mean to ask. I’ve long had such admiration and affection for you, and it would make my life complete if you were more to me than a friend, but a cherished partner. Jane, would you grant me the supreme happiness of consenting to be my wife?”

      Jane forced herself not to sigh or to withdraw her hand. She looked into his eyes, shining at her in the shadows, kind and calm. Why could she not just say yes?

      “You do me great honour, Sir Clement. You possess all the qualities that women prize in a husband, and I probably have no need to tell you that my mother and sisters are all aflutter to hear what they hope will be happy news very shortly. And yet I must ask you to indulge me by allowing me some time to consider.”

      “Of course. I have no wish to hurry you.”

      His lips were set as if in pain, and Jane’s heart contracted. He was a good man, honourable, brave. What was wrong with her?

      “I beg you to tell me,” he said, “if there is some fear that you have, or some flaw in myself that I may mend?”

      “No. The flaw is in me. I long for—I know not what. For adventure, I would say, did I want to leave myself open to your mockery.”

      “I would never mock you, my dear. I don’t know what adventure you hope for, but no doubt you’re right that I cannot offer you vivid excitement. I’m thirteen years your senior, no dashing young suitor to carry you off. I watched, enraptured, as you turned from a charming girl into a lovely young woman. I offer you my esteem, respect, and love. I can provide for you a comfortable home, even a grand one, if I may say so with modesty. I would protect you, honour you, and endeavour to make our life together as happy as it may be, but more than that I am powerless to give.”

      He looked off into the deepening shadows, silent. For God’s sake, give him something, Jane thought miserably.

      “That in itself is a world, which any woman should be overjoyed to accept. I shall think on your offer most seriously. May I answer you at Michaelmas?”

      “At Michaelmas, then,” he smiled. “And I will possess myself in patience during those two months as best I may.”

      “YOU WHAT?” WITHY CRIED.

      “Asked him to wait?” Jane’s mother breathed. “Sir Clement Fisher, and you asked him to wait?”

      “Jane!” Athalia looked as shocked as though Jane had said she’d stuck a fork into Sir Clement’s hand. “Has John not told you of the house? And the miles of parkland in which it sits?”

      “Here are two of your nieces, younger than you, and betrothed!” Jane’s mother scolded. “He does you such honour, and you fling it away!”

      “I know!” Jane cried, throwing up her hands. Their words echoed the fears ringing in her head. “I know. He is all that I should want, and yet I cannot make myself love him.”

      “Love the deer park,” Withy snorted. “Love for the man may come hereafter.”

      LATER THAT NIGHT, WHEN MOST OF THE HOUSEHOLD HAD GONE TO bed, Jane found her father reading in his little study, peering over the rims of his glasses in the flickering candlelight. He looked up as she came in and reached out a hand to her. She took it and sank onto the fat little hassock next to his chair, on which she had spent so many happy hours as a child keeping him company as he worked. During his years as a justice of the peace she had observed in silent admiration as he counselled friends and neighbours and resolved complaints and disputes, most frequently with all parties happy at the outcome.

      “You look troubled, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her hand. “What’s amiss? Or do you care to discuss it?”

      “Mother and the others are vexed that I asked Sir Clement to wait.”

      “Ah, that,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

      “And have you not lost patience with me, too, Father? Are you not afraid I’ll end a sad old maid?”

      “Never in life.” The love and comfort in his voice soothed her agitation. “And come to that, I’d rather you were happy and unwed than a miserable wife.”

      “I wish I’d been born a man.” Jane sighed. “Or at least that I had the choices a man does. Look at Richard—only a year older than me, yet he can set the course of his own life, go where he wills. While I must keep at home and wait, though for what, I know not.”

      “I’d not have you other than as you are. Sir Clement is a good man, and if you can be happy with him, he’ll make you a good husband, I have no doubt. But whether you wed or no, you’ll never want for a comfortable home here with us, or with John and Athalia once your mother and I are gone.”

      “I know.” Jane squeezed her father’s hand. “What are you reading?” she asked, standing to look over his shoulder.

      “Virgil. Something about these times puts me in need of the classics.”

      “Nothing but bad in the newsbooks,” Jane agreed. “And though the ancient folk had their share of woes, they somehow seem less dire in rhyming couplets.”

      Thomas laughed, his eyes disappearing into the wrinkles around his eyes. “Well put, honey lamb. Now, never fret. We’ll find something to distract your mother with, and let you think in peace.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE DAY AFTER JANE’S BIRTHDAY, SHE FELT AT A LOSS. THE celebration was over and Clement was put off a few weeks. It was what she had asked for, and yet she felt discontent, with herself and the world. What on earth did she want? she wondered, looking at her reflection as she brushed her hair.

      “You have a letter, Mistress Jane.” Abigail appeared at the bedroom door, letter in outstretched hand, and Jane took it from her eagerly.

      “It’s from Ellen!” Jane cried. “Mrs Norton. Ellen Owen as was.”

      “Oh, I hope she’s well,” Abigail smiled, her dark curls bobbing. “I always did like that lady.”

      Jane sat on the window seat and broke the seal on the letter. It was not often she received mail, and it made the day seem special. Her dearest friend Ellen had married the previous year and gone to live at her husband’s grand home, Abbots Leigh, near Bristol, a hundred miles away. When Ellen lived nearby, she and Jane had visited each other frequently, sharing their hopes and dreams, and it seemed that Ellen’s dreams had come true. George Norton was everything she had wanted in a husband—handsome, rich, earnest, and above all, passionately in love with her. In November her happiness was to be crowned with the birth of a baby and her letter was full of her joy at impending motherhood.

       I feel so peculiar and yet so wonderful that I don’t think I can describe the sensation with any justice. My belly has begun to swell, and with marvel I run my hands over it and СКАЧАТЬ