He left on his errand and Jane turned to talk to her aunt about the play. Aunt Lane, who had her opera glasses to her eyes and was surveying the other boxes, did not appear to be listening. Why, there is your cousin, Anne, she said. And who is that with her, surely not a beau? My goodness, I do believe it is that rakeshame brother of hers. I wonder where he has popped up from.
Jane had no answer, not having had the presence of mind to ask him that morning. I am sure I do not know, she said.
Did you know he was back in town?
We met him this morning while we were out riding.
You did not say.
I did not think anything of it. We exchanged greetings, no more.
He looks much changed.
I believe he is.
My dear, what will you do?
Do, Aunt? Why, nothing. If I meet him again, I shall be civil for Annes sake, but that is all.
Very wise. The old lady paused, still looking through her glass. But I admit to being curious. I wonder what he has been up to for the last two years? Not with the beau monde judging by his evening coatit is at least three years out of date. Oh, my goodness, he has seen us and pointed us out to Anne. They are getting up. Do you suppose they are coming here?
Anne and her brother arrived at the door of the box at the same moment as Donald returned with Janes drink. They greeted each other coolly and Aunt Lane, whose curiosity was overwhelming if she thought there might be a titbit of gossip worth passing on to her cronies, invited Anne and Harry into the box with something akin to cordiality.
Anne kissed Janes cheek and sat down beside her, depriving Donald of the seat he had had. He gave Jane her glass of cordial and sat himself on the other side of Aunt Lane. Harry, smiling, pulled a chair round to face the ladies. Aunt Lane leaned forward and tapped him on the knee with her fan. Tell me, young man, where have you been hiding yourself these last two years?
He has not been hiding, Anne said before he could reply himself. He has been serving his country in the Peninsula, and though he will not tell you so himself, for he is far too modest, he distinguished himself with great courage.
Is that so? Mrs Lane queried, smiling.
My sister was ever my champion, he said, but though he was smiling at the old lady, his eyes were on Jane. She was looking a little taken aback. Did she find it so difficult to believe that the man she had known and professed to love could behave with merit? Or was she simply discomfited that he had had the effrontery to invade her box?
Given his way, he would not have come, but Anne had insisted. Jane is my friend, she had said. If you were not here, I should go and have some discourse with her and I do not propose to change my habits because you are. It would be as good as cutting her and that would give the scandalmongers fresh ammunition and I will not give them the satisfaction. Besides, you have done no wrong and I will not have you ostracised. Better to let people think we are all friends together.
He had smilingly given in, knowing she was right; politeness decreed they should acknowledge each other or have everyone talking about that two-year-old scandal all over again. Besides, although he could not and should not attempt to wrest Jane away from Allworthy, which would damn him all over again in the eyes of the world, he could not resist the temptation to speak to her again, if only for a few minutes. He might discover if Anne had been right when she said Jane had been coerced.
I thought you resigned your commission, Jane put in tentatively. She had noticed how tired he looked, and that, when he came in and took his seat, he limped. In spite of his smile, there was pain in his eyes and she wondered why she had not noticed it that morning. Her anger gave way to compassion.
So I did, but that did not mean I had finished with the army or they with me. I enlisted.
Enlisted! Aunt Lane was shocked. You mean you became a common soldier?
Yes, maam. I was not prepared to wallow in my disgrace or hang about waiting for someone to take pity on me. And as I did not have the blunt to buy a commission in another regiment, I decided to serve my country in the only other way open to me.
How brave of you, murmured Jane. This was not the blustering rakeshame she had sent away, this was a man who had taken his courage in his hands and tried to redeem himself.
He laughed, not sure she wasnt roasting him. Not brave at all, but once I had done it, there was no undoing it and in the end I did not regret it.
He was soon promoted, Anne put in, realising that Aunt Lane did not see the common soldier as a being to be admired, rather the reverse. He is Captain Harry Hemingford now.
Congratulations, Jane said. I am very pleased for you.
But a private soldier! Aunt Lane protested. How could you bring yourself to associate with the riffraff in the ranks?
Maam, they are not riffraff, they are the men standing between you and Bonaparte, keeping this country safe from his tyranny, and a finer bunch of comrades I never met. I am proud to have served with them.
I do not think Aunt Lane meant to denigrate them, Jane said quietly. She was only thinking of your sensibilities.
He turned towards her, looking directly into her eyes. I could not afford to have sensibilities, Jane.
Oh. She squirmed inwardly with embarrassment, but she had, in the last two years, become adept at hiding it. I admire you for it. She spoke quietly, but he was immensely comforted.
The orchestra had begun to play for the second act, calling everyone back to their seats. Donald, who had remained silent all through the encounter, rose as Anne got up to take her leave. Reluctantly Harry stood, bowed over Mrs Lanes hand, then Janes and, murmuring, Good evening, Allworthy, disappeared after his sister.
What a strange fellow, Donald said, resuming his seat beside Jane.
I do not find him strange.
No gentleman ought to enlist as a private soldier. It is degrading. Their vulgar behaviour and speech are bound to rub off.
I saw no evidence of that.
No doubt he was being particular tonight.
The curtain was rising, revealing the next scene in the play, and Jane turned towards the stage, glad to bring an end to the conversation. But she could not concentrate. Seeing Harry twice in the same day had unsettled her. And he was so changed, she could hardly believe he was the man she had sent away. She had been the one to send him away, not only from herself, but from his country, his family and his friends. He could have lived down the scandal over Mrs Clarke, everyone else concerned had soon done so; it was not necessary to exile himself for that. He had gone because she could not forgive him and railed at him that he had betrayed her trust, going behind her back and visiting that demi-rep. How top-lofty she had been!
And now he was back and she was likely to see more of him. She could not avoid him unless she cut Anne out of her life and she could not do that. She and Anne were as close as sisters and shared all their secrets; without Anne she would have only an increasingly preoccupied father and an eccentric great-aunt for company. And Mr Allworthy, of course, but she could not imagine herself giggling over the latest on dit with him.
The performance ended amid wild applause and they found themselves leaving the theatre alongside Anne and Harry. Jane realised, as they shuffled out in the crowd, that Harry looked pale and drawn and his limp was more pronounced. You have been wounded, she whispered.
The performance ended amid wild applause and they found themselves leaving the theatre alongside Anne and Harry. Jane realised, as they shuffled out in the crowd, that Harry looked pale and drawn and his limp was more pronounced. You have been wounded, she whispered.
Not worth mentioning, nothing but a scratch. He grinned to prove it. A sympathy wound, you might call it. Youd be surprised how many expressions of compassion, how many offers of nursing, how many bowls of beef tea and posies of sweet-smelling herbs it has attracted. I put it all on, you know.
She did not believe that. Not even the old Harry would have stooped so low and the pain she had seen in his eyes was real. But you will make a full recovery?
Oh, do not doubt it.
They were outside in the street where rows of carriages and cabs waited. The two parties bade each other good night and parted: Jane, Donald and Aunt Lane made their way to the Allworthy carriage while Anne and Harry called up a hackney.
Well, that was a surprise, I must say, Aunt Lane said, as they were driven towards Duke Street. I doubt the Earl will take him back now.
Why not? Jane demanded. I would expect him to be proud of his grandson. Anne said he was recommended for bravery in the field.
I think your aunt meant enlisting as a common soldier, Donald put in. It is not the sort of thing a member of the ton ought to do. His family must see it as a shabby thing to do, almost as if he had denounced his heritage. But then he had already been disgraced, so perhaps it is not to be wondered at.
I hope he does not expect to introduce any of his rough friends to us, Aunt Lane added. For if he does, I shall give them the cut direct and I hope you would do so too, Jane.
I cannot conceive of an occasion when I am likely to meet his friends, Jane said sharply. We do not move in the same circles.
Quite, Donald said. But you are his sisters friend.
Yes, Jane, Aunt Lane said. I think, while he is staying with Anne, you would be wise not to call.
Jane was about to retort angrily that unless her father specifically forbade it, she would see whom she liked, but thought better of it. She had already decided not to put herself in a position where she was likely to meet Harry, not because she frowned on what he had done since they last met, but because she did not want to be reminded of her heartache of two years before. It was over and done with and she wanted it to stay that way.
I go home to Coprise tomorrow, Donald said, changing the subject in his usual fashion.
So soon? Jane queried.
Yes, I must. But I go in the expectation of a visit from you very soon.
In the circumstances, I think the sooner the better, Aunt Lane said.
Jane knew very well what she meant; it did not take a genius to realise Aunt Lane intended to keep her apart from Harry. As if anything on earth would make her go back to him! She smiled. If Papa agrees, we could go a week from now.
Her father had refused the invitation for himself, saying his work was at a critical stage and he could not leave it, but Jane could go if her aunt agreed to chaperon her, which, of course, the good lady was more than prepared to do. Jane could get his copying up to date before she left and he would save the rest for her when she returned two weeks later. He could not sanction a stay longer than that or he would be lost under the weight of paper on his desk. The suggestion that he should employ a secretary had been brushed aside as an unnecessary expense.
But, James, Aunt Lane had said, what will you do when Jane marries?
Oh, the work will be finished by then. I am near the end.
Jane had smiled at that. The great work had been near the end for years. But he always found some alterations he wanted to make, some new information that must be included and, before Jane could take a breath, he had torn up pages and pages of her neat script and was busy scribbling again.
He had already retired when they reached home, and so it was arranged that Donald should call next morning before he left town, to learn exactly when he could expect his guests.
I am quite looking forward to it, Aunt Lane told him, as she left the carriage. We shall come post-chaise.
This was a shocking expense and Jane said so, but was overridden. I am an old lady, her aunt said. I need to be comfortable and I shall bear the cost.
Dear lady, allow me the privilege of paying, Donald said. I would gladly expend more than the price of a post-chaise to have Miss Hemingford in my home.
He turned up while they were breakfasting the following morning and, once all the arrangements had been made, begged to speak privately to Jane. They retired to a corner of the room where he picked up one of her hands. My dear, I shall be on hot coals until we meet again in one weeks time. Pray, do not forget me.
Mr Allworthy, how can I possibly forget you in a week?
You know what I mean. There will be distractions, temptations, pressures
She knew perfectly well that he was referring to Harry, though she did not think he posed a threat. Her erstwhile fiancé had been polite the evening before, but cool, talking about the army as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. If she were subjected to pressure, it was more likely to come from her aunt bidding her make haste and accept Donald. She smiled. Rest assured I shall ignore them all, she said.
He lifted her hand to his lips. Then I bid you au revoir, dearest. He released her hand and turned to her father and aunt, who had been listening to the exchange with satisfied amusement. Mr Hemingford, Mrs Lane, your obedient. And then he was gone, leaving Jane feeling as though a whirlwind had taken her up and whisked her about hither and thither and set her down in a different and unfamiliar place.
Well, her aunt said, as they finished their breakfast, we have a week to kill.
It will pass soon enough, Mr Hemingford said. I have a mountain of copying for Jane.
James Hemingford, you should be ashamed! Aunt Lane protested. Working that poor girl as you do. She is young, she needs amusements; besides, we have shopping to doshe must be at her best for Coprise.
Oh, Aunt, there is nothing I need. I am sure Mr Allworthy will take me as I am.
Oh, so he might, her aunt said airily. But he has a house full of servants and it is always wise to impress the servants, particularly if you expect to become their mistress one day. They must respect you, not look on you as someones poor relation the master has been so foolish as to take pity on.
Was that how her aunt really saw her? A poor relation whom it behoved her to pity? Was that why she had encouraged Mr Allworthy, because no one else would have her? Was she still shackled by the old scandal? But Mr Allworthy had said he admired her, that he paid no attention to gossip and he was a good man, if something of a sobersides. Perhaps that was what she needed.
I wont have you saying Jane is a poor relation, her father snapped.
Her aunt laughed. I did not say she was my poor relation, I only meant we did not want Mr Allworthys servants to have grounds for criticism. You are a man, you cannot advise the dear girl on her dress, now can you?
Jane smiled. Papa, I understood Aunt Lane very well, there is no need to refine upon it. I need very little, you know, just fripperies.