Lord Lansbury's Christmas Wedding. Helen Dickson

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      Jane was conscious of Lady Lansbury’s eyes studying her, not critically, nor with the kind of morbid fascination with which many of her class would gaze at her unfashionable attire and plain looks. Rather it was with an assessing frankness, a frankness and even an admiration one woman directs at another when she sincerely believes that woman is worthy of it.

      ‘How is Lady Octavia?’ Jane found herself asking. ‘It was a pleasure to meet her. She is such a charming, sweet girl.’

      ‘Yes, she is—but then she is my daughter and I love her dearly.’ Lady Lansbury placed her cup and saucer down. Her face, which had been firm with some inner resolve, softened imperceptibly. ‘Of course I am so glad you think so, Miss Mortimer, because my visit concerns Octavia. When we were here last week I could not help noticing that you seem to have a way with her—and she has talked of nothing else but you since. I have come here today to ask for your help.’

      ‘Oh!’ Jane uttered, slightly taken aback, for she could not for the life of her think how she could possibly be of help to the Countess of Lansbury.

      ‘When I spoke to your aunt, I seem to recall her mentioning that you have returned to England after spending many years travelling abroad with your father.’

      ‘That is so,’ Jane confirmed quietly. ‘Sadly my father died when we were in Egypt, which is why I have come to stay with Aunt Caroline while his affairs are put in order and I consider my future.’

      ‘Do you like children, Miss Mortimer?’

      ‘Why—I—yes, of course, although I confess that being an only child and constantly on the move, I have no experience of them.’

      ‘You appeared to get on with Octavia well enough. I wondered if you would consider helping me take care of her. She can be difficult on occasion. All the young ladies I have employed in the past do not make it past the first month before they are heading for the door.’

      ‘I—I don’t know...’

      ‘Miss Mortimer, please, I beg you, let me finish. I want to offer you permanent, full-time employment. We will be leaving London for our family home—Chalfont House in Oxfordshire—within the week. Octavia has developed a slight cough. I believe the country air is so much better for her than this London smog. I can’t tell you how happy it would make me if you were to come with us.’

      ‘Lady Lansbury—I don’t know what to say. I freely admit you’ve taken me by surprise.’

      ‘I hope you will say yes. I will not pretend that it will be easy taking care of Octavia. As you have seen she is not—not quite—like other girls of her age. She is twelve years old but looks and behaves much younger. She is fragile and needs tender care. She finds it difficult to tell people what she needs and how she feels—she also finds it difficult to understand what other people think and how they feel. She finds it hard to meet people—and to make friends—but she seems to like you. I do love her so very much, but I have grown weary and I often despair of what will become of her...’

      For a moment Jane thought Lady Lansbury was about to break down. She bent her head, placing the back of her immaculately gloved hand to her head, swallowing painfully. Jane stood up, ready to go to her, to kneel and place her own soothing hand on hers, wanting to comfort, but recollecting herself when Lady Lansbury raised her head staunchly.

      Jane smiled, a compassionate warmth lighting her eyes. She could almost feel the tension inside this regal lady splitting the air. Jane didn’t take any persuading to accept her offer of employment. Through his work her father had told her that on his death she would be a wealthy woman, but until his lawyer had sorted out his affairs and the will was read she had no idea of her worth, although she knew it would be considerable. Never being one for crowded places, getting out of London into the English countryside for a while appealed to her.

      There was also another reason that added weight to her decision—Lady Lansbury’s son, the Earl of Lansbury. The temptation to see him again was too great for her to resist. She had not believed their paths would cross again and for the first time in her life she acted on impulse.

      ‘I am sorry to hear that, Lady Lansbury, and I will help if I can.’

      As she spoke a kindly light appeared in Jane’s eyes. Her interest and feeling towards the girl were obviously sincere. Octavia was unpredictable, dainty and fragile as gossamer. She reminded Jane of a fluff of swansdown blown along on the breeze and may blossom that showed its beauty so profusely in spring. The blossom, flushed with pink, was no more delicately lovely than this child who had latched on to her from the first.

      ‘I accept your offer, Lady Lansbury. I will return with you to Chalfont House—although I cannot commit myself indefinitely. But for the time being I would dearly like to be Lady Octavia’s companion and I promise I will be patient with her.’

      Lady Lansbury’s eyes were bright with tears of gratitude. Miss Mortimer’s acceptance of the post lightened her spirits, as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. ‘Thank you, Miss Mortimer. I can’t tell you what a relief that is to me.’

      ‘There is one thing I must ask of you, Lady Lansbury. When my father died a good deal of his work was not completed. It meant a great deal to him—and to his publisher and other antiquarians he worked with. I was his assistant and I am doing what I can to finish his work.’

      ‘Of course you must. I quite understand. You will not be caring for Octavia all the time. We have a perfectly good library at Chalfont. It is a quiet room. I am sure you will find it the perfect place for your work.’

      ‘Thank you. I would appreciate that.’

      ‘Nonsense. It is I who am grateful to you.’ She looked at Jane’s aunt, who had listened to their exchange closely. ‘What do you say, Mrs Standish? I do so hope you approve of Jane’s acceptance to my proposal. I am certain she will be a great help to me—and to Octavia.’

      ‘It is not for me to approve or disapprove, Lady Lansbury,’ Mrs Standish said, choosing her words with care. ‘At twenty-one my niece is old enough and sensible enough to decide her own future. But since you ask my opinion I will say that I am—concerned about the position she will hold in your household and how it will be seen by the others who work at Chalfont House. In age Jane will be on a par with your maids in the kitchen and...’

      ‘Please, say no more, Mrs Standish. Jane will never be on a par in any way with the maids in the kitchen. I know that she is the daughter of an academic, a highly intelligent man, an acclaimed writer, whose own father held a high-ranking position in the army. Her mother is from good stock, the Grants of Derbyshire. They were not a wealthy family, but they were of the class.’

      ‘But—how do you know this, Lady Lansbury?’ Jane asked.

      ‘When I saw how taken Octavia was with you, I—made a few enquiries. I ask nothing more of you, Jane, than that you be my daughter’s companion—her friend. Octavia has never reached out to anyone the way she has to you.’

      ‘I will do my best to make her happy.’ Knowing how concerned her aunt was about her, Jane tried to put her at ease with the situation. Looking after Octavia would be a demanding position but a pleasurable one for the girl aroused a protective fondness in her. ‘Please—do not worry about me, Aunt,’ she said gently. ‘Ever since I returned to England I’ve been undecided as to what to do with my future, which path to take. As you know my mother died when I was very young. Having spent almost СКАЧАТЬ