Page 1 of The Truth about the Marquess (Whispers of the Ton #3)
Prologue
J ane Casson, Countess of Harsham, closed her eyes, aware of the tension which ran through her.
“I must go back to London.”
“Why must you?” Her sister, Emma Peterville, Lady Armitage, reached across to squeeze her hand. “You are happy here with us, are you not?”
Jane smiled softly, appreciating her sister’s kindness.
“Of course I am. I am very happy indeed, but I cannot simply remain here for the rest of my days! You have your own husband and family and, fond though I am of my dear nephew and niece, I know that you would be best suited if I were not always present.”
“How can you say that?” Tears sparked in Emma’s eyes, and she withdrew her hand. “We have never once thought ill of your presence here. We have delighted in it, in fact!”
“I know that,” Jane answered quickly, looking to soothe her sister’s upset. “That is not what I meant. It is only to say that a family ought to be that – a family! I am very thankful for all that you have offered me, all that you have given me for these last two years, but the time has come where I must now permit you to return to your life and I must return to mine.” She smiled gently, hoping that Emma would understand. “It is not that I am ungrateful, nor that I am eager to take my leave. It is only that I now must think of the future, and I know that I cannot stay here and rely on your kindness forever, even though I know it would be offered.”
Emma nodded, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief which she had only just pulled from her sleeve.
“I understand what you mean. Though what will you do, Jane? What can you do?”
Jane let out a slow breath, aware of how her spirits quickly began to sink. She had been thinking of her future for some time and, as yet, had struggled to find any sort of clarity.
“I am not entirely certain. I think that I shall have to make my way to London for the Season.”
“To marry again? After all that you endured with Lord Harsham?”
A slight shudder ran through Jane’s frame, and she closed her eyes, the images of her late husband returning to her with such a fierceness that it made her tremble. The Earl of Harsham had been a cruel, uncompassionate gentleman who had thought nothing of Jane and her considerations. He had taken what he pleased, had done what he wished, and had berated her with fury and fierce anger every time that he perceived that she had done something that he considered to be wrong – which had been most of the time. Jane had once made the mistake of trying to speak to him about his lack of care for her, and that had brought about such a consequence that she had never dared to speak a single word to him on the matter again. Instead, she had become a quiet, obedient wife, who did not so much as look at her husband without his permission. Fear had been her constant companion, and when news had come of his death – killed by highwaymen who had come to steal what they could from his carriage – Jane had not felt one single ounce of grief. Instead, there had been relief and, with that, guilt. She ought not to be feeling glad over her husband’s death, she had told herself, and thus, that had become a constant battle.
“You are thinking of him again.” Emma’s gentle voice broke through Jane’s thoughts, and she started in surprise, blinking quickly as she looked back at her sister.
“I was, yes.”
“You should not.” Emma leaned forward in her chair just a little, her gaze searching Jane’s face. “That man left bruises on you, bruises that you tried to hide from me, but that I saw anyway. He was not a good man. He was not a good husband! Do not let guilt pull you into any sort of darkness, my dear sister. I can see that it is threatening you, looming like a dark shadow in your eyes.”
Jane closed her eyes so that she could shut out Emma’s intense gaze. She knew that Emma was right, could practically feel the shadow that she spoke of looming over her but, all the same, she could not seem to free herself from it entirely.
“Our father should never have permitted Lord Harsham to take you as his bride,” Emma muttered, just as Jane opened her eyes. “He knew the sort of gentleman Lord Harsham was, I am sure, while you and I did not.”
“I cannot know for certain what Father had gleaned of Lord Harsham’s character,” Jane replied, feeling a slight defensiveness towards their late father. “Though he did gamble enough with him to know that he was foolish when it came to that, I am sure.”
“Mayhap.” Emma tilted her head. “And that must be of concern to you now, knowing how little you are to get once the present Lord Harsham does as he must.” Emma’s face screwed up in distaste. “Though the new Lord Harsham appears to be just as dreadful as his brother, given how little he cares for you! I could not believe my eyes when I read that letter from you, informing me that the newly titled Lord Harsham had told you to leave the house within a month. You, who had been wed to his brother! That is the most extraordinary thing.”
Her chest tightened as Jane tried to push away the memories that her sister was bringing to mind. Whether she realized it or not, Emma was not being any great help to Jane, given what she was saying. It was everything that Jane was trying to put behind her, trying to forget about, and yet, Emma was pushing it to the fore again.
“Yes, my husband’s brother was just as unkind as he was.” Hoping that this would be enough to satisfy Emma, Jane spread out her hands. “But now, I must make the best of things, despite my lack of funds.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, taking Jane in.
“Does that mean that you intend to make your way to London in search of a new husband, then? You did not answer my question the first time.”
Hesitating, Jane shook her head.
“I do not know, truth be told. I have been so wounded, that the idea of marrying again is quite terrifying. But yet, I recognize that I do require financial stability and, given the pittance that I am to receive from my late husband’s will, it seems to me that the only way to do so is to marry. Though if there is any other way, then I shall find it!”
“Why do you not stay here?” Emma’s voice had taken on a gentle pleading now, though Jane only smiled but shook her head. “You know that we would be glad to support you for the rest of your days, should you wish it! And my dear husband has already said he will deposit some money into your accounts so that you are not struggling in any way. Please, let us do this for you, Jane. After all you have suffered, ought you not now to let us care for you?”
The urge to give in to all that her sister offered was strong and, for a few moments, Jane fell silent, considering. Yes, she thought, it would be easy to remain at this estate, to help her sister care for the two children, but that would not necessarily be a good thing. Emma and her husband needed to run their estate and their home together, not with Jane’s presence always with them, and she herself wanted something more, did she not? Even if it was not a husband, then that sense of freedom, that ability to do as she pleased without fear or consequence. Even with her limited funds, that was what she wanted.
“I do not think that I can, Emma.” Speaking as gently as she could, Jane reached out to take her sister’s hand, seeing the tears that immediately sparked in her eyes. “It is not because I do not wish it, not because I do not love you, nor that I am unhappy. It is because I think that it is for the best, for both you and your family, and me. Do you understand?”
Emma sniffed and dabbed at her nose but nodded.
“I do not want you to go.”
“I know that. But I will return very often to visit. You are not so far away from London now, are you?”
Her sister’s smile wobbled.
“No, I suppose we are not. Though,” she continued, squeezing Jane’s hand so tightly that it was a little painful, “will you not stay at our townhouse in London rather than find lodgings? That would be a help to you, would it not?”
Jane smiled.
“It would be, and I would be glad to accept.”
Emma closed her eyes, her smile still present but sadness in it all the same.
“That is good. And I might have someone who could offer you something as regards your financial status, my dear Jane.”
“Employment?” Astonished, Jane’s eyebrows lifted high. “Who is it that you know who would employ a young lady, such as myself, as a governess?”
“Ah, but I did not say as a governess,” came the reply, making Jane’s brows fall into a frown. “You did not hear me say that.”
“Then what would it be?” Jane grew a little irritated as her sister shrugged her shoulders. “Please, Emma, do not frustrate me so!”
Emma smiled and this time, it was without tears in her eyes.
“I cannot give you any details, not until I am sure that it might be a possibility, at the very least. But have no fear, it is something that you are going to be well able to do, I am sure. Something that will give you all the security you hope for.”
Trying to push her irritation away, Jane turned her head away from her sister.
“Very well, I shall wait.”
“Good.” Emma beamed as Jane threw her a quick glance, either not in the least bit concerned, or barely even noticing Jane’s frustration. “Now, shall we ring for tea?” Leaning back, she rubbed at her eyes, the other hand on her rounded stomach. “Though I am feeling rather fatigued.”
“You go to rest,” Jane suggested, getting to her feet. “I will ring the bell and serve the tea.” Walking across the room, Jane was struck by a sudden sadness, a sadness which seemed to wash over her, She had lived here for two years now, and soon her time with her sister and family would come to an end. Here, it was comfortable and cozy, for she knew what was expected of her, knew her role, and that she was not being judged for anything she either said or did, unlike when she had been living with her late husband. To go to London, however, was entirely different - for there, many would speak about her, many would whisper about her, and she would have to do her best to quell the rumors – or try to ignore them as best she could. Could she do it? Or would she find it all too much to bear and, instead, rush back to the comfort and safety of the Armitage estate?