Plain Jane (22 page)

‘But how am I to get away?’ asked Rainbird.

Lord Tregarthan stood in thought. ‘You might simply leave and then come to me afterwards if you need another post.’

‘Thank you, my lord, but if Felice will have me, I must find another type of work. If she does not, then I would like to return to the others.’

Lord Tregarthan nodded, understanding the ‘others’ to mean that odd ‘family’ of servants at Number 67.

‘I will help you, Rainbird,’ he said at last, ‘if you will do something for me. Tell Mrs Hart that I told you Captain Hart wished you to travel to Dover to collect a present for his wife. She is greedy and vain and will let you go. She needs something to show the world that her husband still cares for her. I will furnish you with such a present.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

‘In return, I want you to bring Miss Jane to my house at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I do not want her mother to see her leave.’

‘Yes, my lord. Mrs Hart often goes out of an afternoon and leaves Miss Jane alone.’

‘Very well. Come closer under the light so I may write out all the instructions for you.’

‘And Felice’s address?’

‘And Felice’s address.’

O Lord, sir, when a heroine goes mad she always goes into white satin.

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN
,
THE CRITIC

Jane Hart was puzzled and worried.

She had slept late, dressed, and rushed downstairs to accept her mother’s congratulations on a successful alliance with Lord Tregarthan. But Mrs Hart and Euphemia were both gone from the house.

Jane rang and asked Joseph, who answered the bell, the whereabouts of her mother and whether Lord Tregarthan had called. Joseph said he did not know where Mrs Hart had gone, Rainbird might know but he was out on an errand, and no one had called except persons from the law and persons from the newspapers, all of whom he had sent away.

‘Mr Rainbird will be leaving us for a few days,’ said Joseph with a self-important air. ‘I am in charge until his return, so if there is anything you wish, please let me know.’

‘Send Mr Rainbird to me when he returns,’ said Jane.

Joseph bowed his way out – in quite the royal manner – and spoiled the effect by knocking over a spindly chair.

Jane paced up and down. If Lord Tregarthan had told her mother that she, Jane, was to wed him, then surely that mother should have been waiting, overjoyed with such good news. Jane stopped in front of the looking glass and studied her appearance. Could such a woman as herself attract a man like Tregarthan? Although she looked very modish in one of Euphemia’s gowns, which had been altered for her by Felice, she had to admit she could find little about her face or figure to charm a famous beau.

If only she were a man then she could simply walk around to his home and see him. But, of course, if she were a man, she would not be so terribly in love.

Jane walked to the window and looked out into Clarges Street. People were emerging from the house opposite, the house where the great Charles James Fox had lived and died. Who were they? wondered Jane idly. What a strange place London was, where one could live cheek by jowl with so many people and yet not know them. Mrs Hart had invited Lady Charteris next door to tea, but Lady Charteris seemed determined not to know Mrs Hart whether that lady were in fashion or out of it.

Then Jane saw Rainbird walk past, clutching a large parcel. She ran to the front door and opened it. ‘Mr Rainbird,’ she called. ‘Oh, Mr Rainbird, I am so glad to see you. No one is here and I don’t know where mama is, and Lord Tregarthan has not even called.’

Rainbird stepped past her and placed the wrapped box on a chair. ‘I am to take you to Lord Tregarthan’s home in Brook Street at three o’clock,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It is as well Mrs Hart is not here. Lord Tregarthan wishes you to leave without anyone but myself knowing about it. I am to leave you there and then I, myself, am making a short journey.’

‘What is it all about?’ asked Jane.

‘I do not know, miss. Those were my instructions – to escort you there.’

Jane twisted about and looked at the clock in the hall. ‘It is half past two,’ she cried, ‘and I must change my gown, and . . . and . . . I have not eaten. Never mind, I shall do as he says.’

‘Meet me here, Miss Jane, in fifteen minutes,’ said Rainbird.

Jane nodded and flew up the stairs to her room to look out her best gown and bonnet. She no longer cared why he wanted to see her, only that he
did
want to see her.

Rainbird went downstairs to the kitchens. He deposited the parcel on the table. ‘Hide this,’ he said to Mrs Middleton, ‘and if I do not return, give it to Mrs Hart and say it is a present from the captain. Should I return, then I will give it to her myself.’

Mrs Middleton’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I never thought the day would come, Mr Rainbird,’ she sobbed, ‘when you would leave us all for some French hussy.’

‘Hush,’ said Rainbird gently. ‘I told you all this morning that after I marry Felice and get established, I will try to find a way of bringing us all together again.’

‘
I
wouldnae leave,’ said the cook. ‘You know that. How can you do this?’

‘I am very much in love,’ said Rainbird simply, and only Lizzie saw the pain in Mrs Middleton’s eyes.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Joseph, strutting up and down. ‘I shall take care of you all.’

‘That’s what worries me,’ said the cook gloomily.

‘I am leaving now,’ said Rainbird, ‘and I am taking Miss Jane somewhere before I catch the Brighton coach. But you are to know nothing of that. Simply say you do not know when Miss Jane left.’

They lined up by the kitchen door as he picked up his portmanteau. He looked at them all, his eyes filling with tears. He shook hands with Joseph, then Angus and then Dave, the pot boy. He embraced Mrs Middleton, Jenny, and Alice. He turned to Lizzie, who was looking up at him with large reproachful eyes. ‘Forgive me, Lizzie,’ said Rainbird. ‘You alone should know why I must go.’

Lizzie began to cry, and he held her closely against him and then kissed her cheek. All of them were now in tears, MacGregor howling like a banshee, Dave scrubbing his eyes with his fists, and Joseph sobbing into the lace handkerchief Felice had made for him.

Rainbird strode up the stairs, his heart heavy. Even the thought of seeing Felice again could not seem to lighten the pain. Jane was too happy and excited to notice the strain on Rainbird’s face. Rainbird called a hack, and they travelled in silence to Brook Street.

Jane’s heart sank a little as she stood on the doorstep of Lord Tregarthan’s home. Rainbird sounded a brisk tattoo on the knocker.

Outside on the road stood a travelling carriage with a bewigged coachman up on the box. Two postillions in green jackets and jockey caps waited alongside. ‘Is that Lord Tregarthan’s carriage?’ asked Jane nervously.

‘I believe it is,’ said Rainbird.

He is going back to the army, thought Jane miserably. He is going to say goodbye to me and that will be that.

The door opened.

‘Goodbye, Miss Jane,’ said Rainbird. He hesitated. ‘If you are ever in a position of consequence as a married lady, please do not forget the staff at Number 67. They would be glad of references.’

Lord Tregarthan’s butler gave Rainbird a steely glare and ushered Jane inside.

‘Of course I shall,’ called Jane. ‘Tell them I shall not forget them. In fact I shall tell them so myself this very evening.’

Rainbird lifted his hand in farewell as the Tregarthan butler shut the door. Lord Tregarthan came out of the library to meet her and raised both his hands to her lips. His butler, Welks, stood to attention in a corner of the hall, awaiting orders.

‘Are you ready?’ asked Lord Tregarthan.

‘For what?’ asked Jane. ‘What is happening?’

‘We are eloping, my little love. Come, I can tell you all about it on our journey to Gretna.’

‘Elope!’ shrieked Jane. ‘I am not prepared. I have no clothes . . .’

He silenced her with a kiss. Welks looked at the ceiling and wondered what the world was coming to. Imagine behaving in such a scandalous way before your very own butler.

‘Don’t you want to come with me?’ asked Lord Tregarthan.

‘Oh, my lord,’ cried Jane, stretching up on tiptoe to throw her arms around his neck. ‘I would go to the ends of the earth with you.’

‘No, only to Gretna Green for a Scotch marriage.’

He put his arm around her and led her out of the house while Welks followed them in a bemused way.

When they were settled in the carriage, Lord Tregarthan gathered Jane into his arms. ‘Now, my love, your mother forbids the marriage. No! Don’t speak yet. Your father does not, but I cannot wait to get his written permission. I have bought you some clothes and I shall buy you more as we journey north. Mrs Hart will not pursue us. She will remain behind to make the best of it. Now, what have you to say?’

‘Nothing!’ laughed Jane. ‘Except, yes, my lord.’

‘Rupert. My name is Rupert.’

‘Yes, Rupert.’

‘Then remove that silly bonnet so that I can kiss you properly. Oh, Jane.
Beautiful
Jane!’

Welks, as Lord Tregarthan had known he was bound to do, confided in the first footman. The first footman told Abraham, and Abraham found an excuse to escape to Clarges Street at the first possible opportunity. The staff with the exception of Joseph were too sad over Rainbird’s departure to care very much, but Joseph went to The Running Footman with the gossip and soon London society knew that Jane Hart had eloped with Lord Tregarthan and had the enjoyable task of telling Mrs Hart all about it.

Mrs Hart had strong hysterics and took to her bed. Lord Tregarthan was well aware that she would be in social disgrace when it was found that her daughter had deemed it necessary to elope with one of London’s most marriageable men. He had felt she deserved to suffer for her treatment of Jane.

Euphemia pretended she did not care, but she began to care very much when Mrs Hart finally roused from her sickbed to declare her intention of leaving town, then rounded on Euphemia and blamed the girl for being a waste of time and money. If Euphemia wanted to find a husband, she would need to be content with hunting one down at the Brighton assemblies. There was nothing to stop their return to Upper Patchett. Mrs Blewett had already left, claiming that the house was too damp, and saying that Lady Doyle, after extracting a large sum of money, which she said she was going to present to the church so that they might build a hall named after Mrs Blewett, had disappeared altogether and was rumoured to be in Ireland.

In vain did Euphemia weep and beg. Mrs Hart had had enough. People were beginning to cut her again, and she was sure Jane would return ruined and unmarried. Number 67 Clarges Street was unlucky, she said to all who would listen. Only look what had happened to her? Her husband gone to sea, her daughter run off, a murderer found dead in the hall, and Euphemia, for all her great beauty, still unwed.

Rainbird walked along Lanceton Street in Brighton. There were small villas on either side with pocket-sized gardens. He stopped outside Number 11 and studied the house. It belonged, Lord Tregarthan had told him, to a Mrs Peters, a widow who was a friend of Felice and who had known her parents.

He straightened his cravat with nervous fingers, picked up his portmanteau, and opened the gate.

A seagull wheeled and screamed overhead and he could smell the sea.

He knocked at the door and waited.

Felice’s second name was Laurent. He had practised saying it many times with a French accent, but when a stout middle-aged woman opened the door, he stammered out that he would like to see ‘Miss Lawrahnt.’

The woman smiled, asked his name, and then left, shutting the door in his face.

He waited impatiently. What a long time she seemed to be taking!

At last she opened the door again and invited him inside to a tiny, dark hall. She held open a door.

Rainbird walked into a small, cluttered parlour.

Felice was sitting in front of the fire. She looked exactly as she had before, wearing the same brown silk dress she had worn in Clarges Street and with the same smooth wings of hair framing her face. Rainbird stood helplessly, choked by a wave of emotion.