Just Jane (2 page)

“Indeed we would,” Arthur agreed amiably.

Jane, with her English reserve, was taken aback by this display of friendliness. “I don't know how to thank you. You're both so kind. And . . .” She hesitated. “It's true that I'm called Lady Jane at home. But I'm told that things are different in America. So, now that I'm here, I'd like everyone to call me just Jane.”

Arthur and Harriet exchanged pleased smiles. “As you wish, Jane,” he said with a nod. “And don't worry, despite the disagreements we've been having with the king's government, no one will forget that you're English, or try to influence you in political matters. Your uncle Robert would never permit you to set foot in this house if he thought there was any danger of that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jane responded, waiting expectantly for further explanation of the “disagreements” Arthur had mentioned. But none came.

Quickly, Harriet said, “Such talk will make Jane's poor head spin, Arthur.” She gave Jane's arm a little squeeze. “My dear, why don't we let you rest a bit. I'm going to send notes around to some of our close friends, inviting them to stop in this evening to meet you. Nothing formal, just a light supper and a little conversation. I think you'll enjoy it.”

“I'm sure I shall.” Jane smiled politely, but her insides felt like a thousand butterflies had just taken flight. She would be the center of a great many strangers' curious attention on her very first day in Charlestown.

 

That evening Jane was pleasantly surprised by the friendliness directed toward her, but mortified by the dowdiness of her only halfway decent dress. Somehow she had expected to be able to get at least one new dress in America before being introduced to her relatives' respected friends. She only picked at the “light supper,” which turned out to be a feast of roast game, succulent hams, and all manner of breads, cakes, and pies. There was more food than Jane had ever seen in one place, certainly not aboard ship, where even bread had become scarce toward the end. Glad when the evening finally ended, she peeked into Mrs. Morley's room to say good night.

“How was it, dear?” Mrs. Morley inquired. “Did they treat you properly?”

“Everyone was very nice. I've never seen so many fancy-looking ladies and gentlemen, all dressed in such beautiful silks. I felt like a milkmaid among them in this old thing—it's so babyish!”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Morley sputtered. “Don't forget, you were the only highborn English lady there, even if your dress isn't new. And you're growing into quite a shapely young lady, at that. You'll be lacing up a fine set of stays before long, and the young men will be buzzing around you.”

“Well, I didn't feel highborn or grown-up when I met the president of the Republic, Mr. Rutledge. He is a most impressive gentleman.”

“President? Of what Republic?”

“They're calling this place the Republic of South Carolina.”

“Are they, now! That sounds ridiculous, indeed.”

“I also heard Uncle Arthur's neighbor Mr. Heyward talking about arguments with the king over things like commerce and taxation,” Jane went on. “That's why you'll find no English tea in the shops.”

“I can't understand why your uncle Robert would bring us into this nest of rebels, fine people or no!” Mrs. Morley exclaimed.

“Oh, they're not
rebels
, Mrs. Morley,” Jane explained. “I'm sure they're all as loyal as we are—it's just that this colony has a few complaints. Don't worry, everything will be fine. Good night now. Sleep well.”

 

Back in her own room, Jane lay awake a long time. Her mind whirled with visions of beautiful new dresses, sumptuous food—and echoes of the shocking word Mrs. Morley had used.
Rebels? The Ainsleys? Surely they are loyal British subjects. And yet. . .

It seems I have much to learn about these Americans
, she thought.
How will I ever find my right place here?

She drifted off, at last, to a fitful sleep.

The next day, Brandon Ainsley returned from Rosewall.

Arthur had sent a rider with word of Jane's safe arrival, and Brandon immediately set out for Charlestown. As his horse's hooves clattered through the gate, black servants ran out, shouting, to greet him.

The commotion brought Harriet outside as well, laughingly scolding her son. “Brandon, dear, don't bring that dirty old horse into the courtyard!”

Dismounting with a flourish, he turned his dappled gray mare over to a groom. “Why, Mother dear! Dare you call Princess a dirty old horse?”

Jane already knew he was eighteen, and now she saw that, with clear blue eyes and straw-colored hair falling in disarray over his forehead, he was handsome like his father, his face full of the joy of life.

Harriet enveloped him in a warm embrace, chiding him, “Do behave, or Jane will get a bad first impression of you.”

Just then he caught sight of the girl standing in the doorway, gazing at him in wonder. “Oh, my. . . .” he breathed, and with wide-eyed wonder of his own, stepped toward her. “Lady Jane!” Bowing low, he kissed her hand, then held on to it, beaming. “Enchanted, I'm sure!”

She quietly withdrew her hand. “It's just Jane, please, Master Brandon. Or Cousin Jane, if you like.”

“You are lovely, whatever you're called,” he said casually, studying her all over. “Lady Jane, Cousin Jane, or simply Jane—I expect I'll marry you someday.”

Too taken aback to respond, Jane was grateful that Harriet quickly came to her rescue. “Brandon, stop that. You're embarrassing our guest. Now, what news of Robert and Clarissa? Will they be coming soon?”

“As soon as possible,” he replied. “They're delighted that you're here, Jane, and send you their warmest welcome. But you see, Uncle Robert's just bringing in his rice crop and needs Aunt Clarissa's help. You can't imagine what it's like running a large plantation. Well, I must see to Princess. But then I'll come looking for you, Cousin Jane. I never want you out of my sight again!” Taking long, confident strides, he hurried away.

Harriet smiled apologetically as he strode off. “He's a dreadful show-off, dear, but quite harmless. Shall we go in?”

Jane was slow to answer. Again she felt the sting of disappointment that the two people she most wanted to meet would remain names without faces for yet a while. Meanwhile, two others had just left her in a daze of astonishment. She had never met a young man quite so brash, so cockily sure of himself, as Brandon Ainsley—or a mother so openly adoring.

“I'd like to walk in the garden a bit, if you don't mind, Aunt Harriet.” Graciously excused by Harriet, Jane set off for the cool shade.

 

Like many fine Charlestown houses, the Ainsleys' was long and narrow, with a short side facing the street and one long side looking out over a secluded garden. The house had covered verandas on three levels, overlooking flagstone paths winding through a miniature forest of fragrant orange and gardenia, jasmine and honeysuckle. Beyond that were the huge stone-floored kitchen, servants' quarters, storehouse, carriage house, and stables.

Off to one side sat another small building, with a handlettered sign above the door:

 

SCHOOLROOM

S. CORDWYN, SCHOOLMASTER

 

Impelled by curiosity, Jane approached the glass-paned door and tried to peer inside. Suddenly the door swung open, and she stepped back with a gasp. A tall, dark-haired young man with piercing gray eyes stood there frowning at her, as if annoyed by this intrusion. Jane hastily offered apology.

“I'm sorry. I was being nosy. I hope I didn't disturb you.”

A sudden smile transformed his piercing gaze into a gentle one. “You must be Miss Prentice, lately arrived from England.” His resonant voice had an accent quite different from the Ainsleys'. “I'm Simon Cordwyn, schoolmaster, at your service.” He opened the door wide in welcome. “Would you like to come inside? There are no classes on Saturday afternoon.”

Jane hesitated for only a moment. “Thank you, sir.” She stepped into a room full of long tables and rows of straight-backed chairs. In front was a desk covered with books and papers.

“It's an old storehouse,” Simon explained, “converted to a higher purpose, thanks to Mr. Ainsley's enlightened generosity.”

Jane smiled. “It reminds me of my village school back home. Of course, I had to stop going when my father died. There was no money to pay for it.”

“Well, I'd be pleased to have you attend this school, if you like,” he said. “You could come with the older boys in the afternoons. It would certainly overturn tradition, since the gentlemen here see little value in education for girls. But I do. That's one of the ways we differ.”

How wonderful it would be to study with books again
, Jane thought wistfully, but brightened when she spoke. “I must say, it's nice to meet a schoolmaster who believes in education for girls. I should imagine that's quite as unusual here as it is in England.”

Simon pulled up two chairs. “Well, I'm convinced they'll see the light eventually. Now, please, sit down. Tell me how you like it here so far.” His tone was so kind and gentle that Jane somehow found herself telling this stranger just how she felt about her new home.

“The Ainsleys have been wonderful to me, and I'm sure my uncle and aunt will be, too,” Jane said. “But everything is so different here. I guess I'm a little homesick.”

“I know what you mean. After almost five years, I still don't feel truly at home here.”

This was the opening for the question Jane longed to ask. “Where are you from, Mr. Cordwyn?”

“Pennsylvania, in the North. And it's very unlike South Carolina.”

“It is? How so?”

“Society is so much more class-conscious here in the South. There's a more gracious style of living here, too—for those with money. And in the North, thank God, we don't have slavery.”

“Slavery.” Jane's face darkened at the word. “That's not an easy idea to get used to. But the Ainsleys' Negroes seem to be treated kindly.”

“Yes,” Simon conceded. “And they're lucky to have such decent folks as owners. Actually, many Southerners treat their slaves kindly. But it's still an evil system, and someday it will have to be abolished.”

This grim topic had only increased Jane's curiosity. “Feeling as you do, Mr. Cordwyn, how did you happen to come here?”

“By accident, really. Mr. Ainsley advertised in Philadelphia for a tutor for Brandon, and I applied. I was only twenty at the time, but I'd had two years at Philadelphia College, and Mr. Ainsley thought I'd do.” Simon shook his head. “I regret to say, I failed miserably with Brandon. He cares only for horses and racing. He soon deserted my classes altogether.”

“He'll regret that someday, I don't doubt,” Jane said.

“I don't think so,” Simon replied. “When he inherits his father's business and the Ainsley estates, he'll devote his life to his thoroughbred horses and fine racecourses, and have no regrets at all.”

Jane was puzzled. “Yet even after he left, you go on teaching here?”

“Oh yes. This school was well established when Brandon quit, and the Ainsleys urged me to continue—even though their own son wouldn't benefit. So, here I am. But enough of all that. Tell me about yourself, Lady Jane.”

“Please, I'm just Jane here. I'm in America now.”

“Indeed you are—and a very long way from home. Why is that?”

“It's not much of a story. My mother died when I was very young, so I barely remember her. My father, the Earl of Almesbury, died just last year, but I never really knew him. He was—well, not exactly a devoted father. I was brought up by my companion, Mrs. Morley. She's been almost like a member of the family since long before I was born, and I'm glad to say she's with me still. At one time the earldom included a large estate, but my father squandered it all away, leaving me an orphan without means. Fortunately for me, Uncle Robert, his younger brother, has agreed to take me in. So—as you said about yourself—here I am.”

Simon nodded thoughtfully. “Seems to me you've been mostly on your own in life so far, Jane. That's regrettable, but in a way also beneficial. No doubt it has taught you a degree of self-reliance, which will serve you well from now on. And you know—this may sound foolish, but it strikes me that we have something important in common, you and I.”

“Really? What's that?”

“It could be said that we're both, in a sense, aliens in a foreign land, trying to find our way.”

Jane stared at him. “What a fascinating thought, Mr. Cordwyn. Yes, I do believe you're—”

At that point a knock sounded at the open door. “Ah, there you are, Jane.” It was Brandon, looking in.

Simon greeted him with a smile. “Master Brandon! Come, join us.”

“Thank you, sir, I can't stay. I just came looking for my cousin. I was worried about you, Jane. I thought perhaps you'd gotten lost.”

“Lost? Hardly—I'm not a helpless child!” Rising, she turned to the schoolmaster. “But I'm afraid I've taken up too much of your time, Mr. Cordwyn. Forgive me. I'm very glad to have made your acquaintance.”

“Not at all, Jane. My pleasure.” He was up, extending his hand to her. “And don't forget—Monday, one o'clock. I'd be honored if you'd join us.”

“Thank you. Perhaps I will. Good-bye.” Going to the door, she took the arm Brandon offered, and they started back to the main house.

After they had gone a short way, Brandon fixed a disapproving frown on his companion. “Jane, what can you be thinking of? An English lady such as yourself doesn't strike up casual acquaintances with strangers. And as for attending his school—good Lord, you couldn't possibly do such a thing!”