The Summer of You (13 page)

Everyone was on their feet in a trice. “Don’t worry, Penelope, Lady Wilton, we’ll catch them before they get past town,” Jason replied, his gallantry apparently not at all rusted from disuse.

The crowd bustled toward the kitchens, and from there, to the back gardens and the river beyond. Jane made certain she was at the back of the group, sidestepping neatly from the sitting room into the book room, with none the wiser.

Sir Wilton’s ledger of all his magisterial duties had to be here somewhere, Jane thought, as she surveyed the tumbling piles of paper that a country gentleman produces. However, this was certainly more paper than the average country gentleman produced, wasn’t it? Sir Wilton’s book room was covered in piles of paper, packets, and boxes of bric-a-brac that was disorganized to the point of absurdity. And somewhere in this mess was the information she required. All she would have to do is find the proper ledger, borrow it, and copy out the passages relating to the highwayman. And given the state of this room, she doubted a volume would be missed for a day or so.

Conscious that she had little time, Jane danced her way around a pile of newspapers on the floor to examine a waist-high pile of books—but they turned out to be a rather extensive collection of lurid novels.

“You won’t find it there,” Victoria Wilton said from the doorway. Her voice was pitched at a conspiratorial whisper, but it still made Jane jump in surprise.

“Why . . . Victoria, I was just—er, I wondered if I could borrow this novel!” she said, picking the top one from the pile.

“You can’t have run through the Cottage’s library already,” Victoria replied with a knowing look as she discreetly closed the door. “And I can’t imagine”—she glanced at the title—“Vice Amply Rewarded is your cup of tea.”

“Good heavens!” Jane gasped, dropping the book like a stone. They both looked at it, sitting innocently on the floor. “Why on earth is that in your father’s book room?”

“They are evidence—I believe Mr. Fredrickson received them accidentally in a shipment, and he turned them over immediately. Now there is a hunt for a smuggler of vice in the Ambleside publishing shops.” Victoria shrugged, placing the book back on its innocuous pile.

“Has no one been arrested yet?” Jane asked, but Victoria simply shrugged, as if to say the chances of having actually caught anyone were fairly nil.

“Well, he certainly shouldn’t have them around children!” Jane admonished.

“True—but no one ever comes in here but Father. But enough of that—you are far more interested in another case, I imagine.”

Jane could only smile. “When did you become so intelligent?”

“Around the time you became so highly polished,” Victoria retorted smartly. “What are you looking for, Lady Jane, and how can I assist you?”

Jane looked into Victoria’s shining and eager face, ripe for mischief. It was the same face that had followed her around like a puppy for all those summers past, desperate for attention and intrigue and friendship. But now there was something different about her. Or perhaps Jane was just happy to have a coconspirator.

“I was hoping to borrow your father’s magistrate ledger. I assume he keeps one, and he keeps it in here—I would bring it back, unharmed, no one the wiser,” Jane said, her voice pitched low.

“He does keep one, or possibly several . . . and he does keep it in here,” Victoria replied and began scanning the shelves with a frown.

Jane hesitated a moment. As handy as Victoria’s assistance could prove to be, surely her father would not appreciate her prying through his things. She would hate to get the girl in trouble, not to mention jeopardize her entire endeavor, if discovered. “Are you sure you do not wish to join the others? The young boys might need your help, after all.”

A flicker of concern crossed Victoria’s young face, but she buried it under a blush. “No, they’ll be fine. After all, the Marquis and Penelope . . . I’m certain they have it under control.”

Jane turned from the shelves and bit her lip. “Victoria, I have to ask . . . you seem to have become a very lovely young lady. And to put it bluntly, my brother is an idiot. I don’t understand—”

“Why I’m in love with him?”

Jane paled, but kept her face schooled into friendly concern and nodded. Love? Oh dear.

Victoria smiled wistfully. “Do you remember the summer when I was nine or ten? You were about twelve, and we still ran around together, with skinned knees and holes in our stockings?”

Jane nodded, easily able to recall the summer before she went back to Mrs. Humphrey’s School for Elegant Ladies, and nature turned her from the freckled, skinny thing she was into an elegant lady of society. The summer after, she would come back to Reston and be far too grown-up to climb trees for apples or for little play-mates like Victoria.

“Well, one day, when you were having tea with widow Lowe, I was in town, and fetching some items for Mother, and was nearly mowed down by an ox cart. I was quite all right,” she hastened to add, “but I fell and bloodied my nose.”

Victoria’s eyes misted a little at the memory, and Jane could not help but leave off her search for the ledger and listen. “My sister and the Marquis happened along—and he gave me what must have been his best handkerchief. The softest linen, shot through with silver thread and his initials, can you imagine? It was the loveliest thing I’d ever seen, and he thought only of stopping the blood from my nose.”

Jane hadn’t the heart to tell her that all of their ordinary handkerchiefs had their initials in silver thread—their better linens were shot with gold. Added to that, Jason had an absentminded, casual attitude about his belongings . . . but Victoria did not need to know that now.

“Then, as Penelope was so squeamish around any injury, he sat and stayed with me, while she ran for the doctor. He told me jokes. And that’s when I fell in love with him.”

Jane sighed. The one moment her brother showed true chivalry, he entrapped a poor young girl’s heart with it.

“My eye turned black for a week after,” Victoria continued, lost in her memory.

“I remember that,” Jane replied. “You refused any visitors—I only learned of it when I saw you in church.”

Victoria nodded, “But Jas—er, the Marquis came anyway. Not to see me specifically of course, but he ducked his head in twice that week and said I was looking well.” She laughed. “Can you imagine? He thought I looked well, even with my eye.”

“But that was years ago,” Jane ventured carefully, deliberately returning her eyes to the shelves.

“I know, but he is just so wonderful”—Jane held in a snort at that—“that my love has not diminished. Indeed, in your family’s long absence, it has increased.”

Oh good God. Jane knew Victoria had an unrequited crush on Jason—and considering the lack of dashing young men in Reston, it was only to be expected that a Marquis would excite interest in a young girl’s heart. (Indeed, Jane had seen the Morgans’ daughters, no older than thirteen, mooning after Jason as he strolled through town. ’Twas enough to turn one’s stomach.) But this was so much worse than Jane had ever imagined. And to think that poor Dr. Berridge was as mad for Victoria as Victoria seemed to be for Jason!

“Oh—oh this will not do!” Victoria said from behind her father’s desk, unknowingly echoing Jane’s own thoughts.

“What is it?” Jane asked, turning around.

“This,” Victoria said, pulling a book the size of a Guttenberg Bible out from under the desk and landing it on the surface with a thud, “I believe is the ledger you seek.”

“Oh dear. I’ll never be able to sneak that out of your house,” Jane said, vexed.

“He kept it down there, as a footrest, I think.” Victoria lifted the heavy cover and opened the book to a random page.

This had to be the record of every complaint brought before the magistrate since Sir Wilton’s appointment, Jane thought, bemusedly. “No wonder it’s so large,” she murmured.

“Indeed,” Victoria agreed.

Sir Wilton, it seemed, wrote everything down—whether or not he took down the correct information and what he did with it was a different matter entirely.

Jane glanced up at the doors, but apparently Michael and Joshua had managed to get much farther down the river than anticipated, because the house was silent. She reached over and flipped the pages up more than a decade, scanning the tight handwriting for what she hoped to see.

Jane did not need to read further. “This is exactly what I need.”

Victoria shot Jane a mischievous look. “Are you hunting highwaymen?”

Jane chose not to answer, as she feared revealing too much. And to Victoria’s credit, she did not await an answer before saying, “Well, you cannot sneak the ledger out in your reticule, obviously.”

“And I can’t sit here waiting for your parents to discover us while I copy out the necessary text.”

“But I could,” Victoria offered. “I can copy out the pages easily—well, much easier than you.”

“You could?” Jane asked.

“Of course—I’ll do it tonight. Just tell me what you need.”

“Anything having to do with the highwayman—go back as far as you remember him being a, er, problem,” Jane said excitedly. “And come to tea tomorrow and bring them to me.”

“A conspiracy! Oh this will be such fun!” Victoria clapped her hands.

Jane had to smile at Victoria’s youthful glee. Hopefully these reports would fill out Byrne’s sketchy reports with far more detail. Perhaps therein lay the clue to what they needed to track the highwayman and catch him where he lay . . .

“But . . . oh, I will not be able to come to tea tomorrow,” Victoria’s face fell. “The public assembly is on the day after, and tomorrow my sister and I are to be overcome with preparations.”

Jane’s brow furrowed.

“The assemblies are monthly, regular as clockwork. You cannot tell me you are not already prepared,” she pouted unprettily. She was hoping to be able to present Byrne with the information as early as possible, surprise him with her cleverness.

But Victoria’s shoulders set. “The assembly is the only party for weeks and for miles. Everyone is attending. Especially since—”

“Especially since the Duke of Rayne’s family will attend.” Jane nodded with understanding. Of course the assembly would be an event of great pressure for the Wiltons. People would invade the town from far and wide—much to Sir Wilton’s chagrin. Victoria would be expected to show to great advantage, hoping to catch the eye of the local gentlemen, while Victoria would want to look her best for Jason. And Lady Wilton would no doubt apply the pressure thick. And here Jane was, irked that she wouldn’t get her pages in an expedient fashion.

“Would it be possible for you to bring them to the assembly?” Jane asked, her tone smoother and kinder. Determined to ask, not dictate. And it was a successful tactic, because Victoria’s shoulders relaxed.

“Of course,” she replied, “I’ll be able to copy them out to—”

But at that moment, the door to the book room burst open, thrown wide by the wet and sopping figures of Michael and Joshua Wilton.

“Vicky!” Joshua cried. “You should have seen us—the Marquis and Penelope and Papa and Mama all chased us, but we lost them all by the bend!”

Michael nodded, shaking water all over the floor like a pup. “You won’t believe what fun we had!”

THE Reston Assemblies took place on the third Monday of every month, in the aptly named Assembly Hall located on the main square of the village. When she had been a child, Jane had hated the assemblies. Her mother always made her wear something spotless and white, and Jane would never succeed in keeping it that way, and the Duchess was always sparkling, chatting—and there was nothing more loathsome to a child than to see one’s parent having a marvelous time when you were not.

The only part that had been tolerable was being able to dance. No matter when or where, or forced into a dress that would inevitably have punch spilled on it by the end of the evening, Jane relished the chance to dance. That feeling had never changed, but as she became fashionable, her other opinions about assemblies did.

Now, Jane thought, as she flitted from one group of villagers to the next, giving happy compliments to the revelers and dancing her way across the floor, she was truly in her element. Everyone from the gentry of the Lake District to the town blacksmith was there. Mrs. Humphrey’s and London had taught her how to glide through a room with ease, her dance instructors at school had marveled at how quickly she picked up the steps and how cheerfully she went through them. She thrived in a merry atmosphere and made it seem as if she had not a care in the world—which had the effect of taking away others’ cares, too.

The night was warm, as had been every night that week, and the doors of the Assembly Hall were thrown wide to allow summer breezes to waft through from the grassy town square—and hopefully keep too many young ladies from smacking their neighbors accidentally with their fans. For the room was quite crowded. The spectacle of aristocracy combined with the truly lovely season had brought out every matron with daughters, gentleman farmer, busybody, eager young lover, traveler, bookshop clerk, and smiling young miss within the county.

And Jane chatted and flirted with them all. This is truly where Jane shone brightest. Something she had learned watching her mother, however reluctantly—how to be the crown jewel of any room. Jane moved from group to group. She complimented Mrs. Hill on her shop’s latest success—a silk printed fan that, due to the heat, had flown off the shelves—Jane had spied several of them on the wrists of young ladies tonight. She moved to Mr. and Mrs. Cutler and made certain to listen intently as that good man held forth on the minutiae of the last town council meeting (a subject made all the more interesting by Mr. Cutler’s glass of punch, or three). She laughed with Mr. Davies, promising she had written a letter in the fire-red ink (she hadn’t) and imparted to a young couple traveling on their honeymoon her particular favorite walks along the tarns and fells. It was as if some key had been turned, and Lady Jane became the very soul of the festivities.

In truth, Jane was feeling rather high. She was enjoying herself, more so than she had since coming to the lake. There was nothing like a party to remind a person that the world was larger than their own frustration. Music moved her feet, making her smile, her russet silk flattered her pallor, and her mother’s diamond earbobs brushed cool against her warm, soft skin, making her feel sensuous and alive.

There was cause for worry, to be sure. Jane expected Byrne to come through the doors at any moment, and she had to find a few spare moments for Victoria Wilton, who was as much in demand as a dancer as she, but why should she let those things diminish her enjoyment right now?

“I must admit, these assemblies have never been so full—nor so full of life,” Dr. Berridge commented, as he took Jane through an easy turn on the dance floor.

Jane grinned at her partner. “I imagine they are rather thin in the colder months,” she replied.

“Not so many as this, certainly, but I discovered that a surprising number of people can be found attending during the winter—everyone standing close together, shivering, attempting to share body heat and keep warm.”

Jane laughed again, her natural laugh—not the false humor she kept on her face most days.

“You are remarkably happy this evening,” Dr. Berridge could not help but comment.

“I very much enjoy dancing. Especially with a competent partner,” Jane replied honestly.

“I had the benefit of sharing my sister’s lessons—I trust I am competent enough?”

“Indeed, Doctor. You are doing very well.”

“As is your father, I see,” Dr. Berridge commented, when they came together again, his voice low enough to not reach any prying ears.

Jane glanced over to where her father sat, near the cool breeze of the open windows. It had been a monumental decision whether or not to have their father attend tonight. Jane had gone back and forth on the subject, debating in her head for hours, and driving Jason mad with the ever-changing results. However, New Nurse Nancy had been quick to remind them that the letter they received from Dr. Berridge’s colleague had said stimulation in familiar surroundings might be good for his mind. Since the Duke had attended the Reston Assemblies for more than thirty years, they decided to chance it. And indeed, the Duke seemed to be doing rather well. He tapped his foot in time to the music, smoked a pipe. He even greeted several gentlemen by name—and if he got any of them wrong, it was doubtful he, as a peer of the realm, would be corrected. Nurse Nancy was close at hand always. Jane and Jason were constantly on guard. But it seemed possible that tonight would be a true success.

“He is,” Jane replied. “Indeed, I hate to admit that my brother is right in anything, but he may have been right to have us come to the lake.”

Jane watched as Dr. Berridge slid his gaze over to where Jason stood, chatting with Penelope and Lady Wilton. He was animated in his conversation, relaxing into the festivities. Of course, he refused to let Jane see that, so when she caught his eye, he had to wrestle his expression back to snobbish boredom.

Jane glanced back at the young doctor, whose mouth had become set in a grim line. But his expression quickly changed to a smile when he caught Jane looking at him. Poor Doctor, Jane thought, knowing he must feel displaced in the Wiltons’ affection. Since her and Jason’s arrival, Lady Wilton was courting their favor and leaving the feelings of the poor doctor aside. Jane doubted it would be so devastating, if only Victoria would glance his way.

But alas, Victoria’s attention, when it was not on her dance partner, was on Jason, of course. Jane didn’t know if she had even once smiled at the lovesick doctor today.

Well, Jane would rectify that.

The music ended shortly thereafter, and Jane took Dr. Berridge’s arm as he escorted her to the side of the floor. If one were truthful, she escorted him.

“I say, my lady, you seem determined to . . . well, leave the floor,” Dr. Berridge commented as she pulled on his arm. “Eager for your next partner?”

“Not at all,” Jane smiled but kept her pace steady and her eye on where Victoria was being escorted—luckily, by the punch bowl, at the opposite end of the room from her mother and sister. “I am eager for yours.”

Dr. Berridge looked up then. And saw where Jane was leading him. “My . . . my lady, I am certain that Miss Wilton has her choice of dance partners.”

“And I am certain you must be among them. Come”—she tugged—“I’m simply parched.”

They arrived at the punch bowl at almost the exact same moment as Victoria and her dance partner, a jolly, mustachioed gentleman whom Jane did not recognize.

Jane greeted Victoria with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m terribly sorry I haven’t been able to make my way over to you,” Victoria said with a happy flush. “It’s rather mad here, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Jane agreed, and stepped to one side, allowing Victoria to give a neat curtsy to Dr. Berridge, who bowed over her hand.

The mustachioed gentleman cleared his throat, his chest puffing out in anticipation.

“Oh!” Victoria cried, her mouth falling into an apologetic smile, “Lady Jane, Dr. Berridge, allow me to introduce Mr. Brandon, my sister Penelope’s husband.”

Mr. Brandon bowed deeply, his face coming up flush with the effort. “Lady Cummings, Doctor, a pleasure to meet you both—indeed, Vicky here has told me about both of you at length.”

Jane could feel the shock and pleasure radiating off of Dr. Berridge. Victoria blushed prettily, as Mr. Brandon ribbed her. “Well, you do, my girl. You go on for hours. I just arrived yesterday, and I haven’t managed a conversation with my wife because this one keeps a running commentary on the virtues of her friends, new and old.”

He gave a hearty chuckle, and Jane decided at that moment to like Mr. Brandon immensely. Having an older brother herself, she recognized good-natured funning. However, Victoria was turning an unforeseen shade of red—perhaps it was time to rescue her.

“What is the news from Manchester, Mr. Brandon?” Jane said with a smile. “We’ve been cloistered here for a fortnight, and I swear, England could have been taken over by the French, and we wouldn’t know it.”

Mr. Brandon laughed. “Too true. But that’s half the joy in such a place.” He then proceeded to go on at length about any news or information that might have been of interest to Jane and Dr. Berridge. Only when Brandon touched on a lecture he attended at the college, commanding Dr. Berridge’s attention, did Jane finally manage to have a short word with Victoria.

Victoria, of course, was already a step ahead of her.

“It has been terribly hectic at my home, but I managed to finish last night,” she whispered as she pressed a small packet into Jane’s hand. “I still have ink on my fingers, under my gloves.” She giggled.

“I cannot thank you enough,” Jane whispered back as she stuffed the papers into her reticule.

“There were fewer entries than I expected,” Victoria ventured.

Which was exactly what Jane suspected, but she merely smiled. She nodded to the men, steeped in conversation.

“Mr. Brandon seems very nice.”

“Yes, I heartily approve of my sister’s choice in husband.” She raised her voice just enough to be overheard, “No matter how annoying he tries to be.”

“I promise I’m not trying to be annoying,” Mr. Brandon answered back. “If I was trying to be annoying, I would tell Dr. Berridge about how when your sister first brought me home, you poured your custard on me.”

Victoria’s mouth dropped open. “That was an accident!”

“Yes, and heaven save me from any more accidents.”

“Heaven save me from any more brothers-in-law!” Victoria grinned back at him.

Jane shot Dr. Berridge a very decided look. This was his moment.

Luckily, he did not disappoint. “I’ll save you, Miss Wilton. Would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

“Happily, Dr. Berridge.” Victoria gracefully placed her hand in his outstretched one and took the floor. She was the epitome of a poised young lady, until she stuck her tongue out at Mr. Brandon as she passed.

Jane and Mr. Brandon stood for a moment, watching the young couple as the first strains of a waltz began.

“My sister-in-law thinks very highly of you,” Mr. Brandon commented.

“And she thinks very highly of you,” Jane replied, much to his surprise.

“You think so?”

“Of course. The two of you remind me of myself and my brother.” Or how they used to be, Jane thought with a hint of sadness. Would they ever be that way again? There were hints of it from time to time . . . if only Jason did not disappoint her. She caught Brandon’s concerned look and smiled pertly, nodding to where her brother stood next to Penelope.

“I must admit, I adore my wife,” Brandon said, his color rising simply from looking in her direction, “but to have her come from a family I adore as well was an unforeseen benefit.”

“Never had a sister?”

“No, sadly. Had I known they were so much fun to tease, I would have acquired one much sooner.”

“We are useful in that regard,” Jane joked and then took Mr. Brandon’s arm. “Come, Mr. Brandon, I’ll introduce you to my brother, and you can ask him all the ways to best torture little sisters.”

The music was a popular minuet, and Victoria found herself humming along to the tune as Dr. Berridge—Andrew—led her neatly about the floor. These few minutes were a welcome respite from her family. Her mother had been so terribly motherlike for the past few days, making certain she knew to dance with which gentlemen, ordering the maid to clean her gown again, readying the house for Mr. Brandon’s visit. The dance itself was little better, as Lady Wilton kept a steady tally of all the positive aspects of the evening alongside the negative.

One of the positive or negative aspects that her mother had not listed in her ear was watching Jason dance attendance on Penelope.

Victoria wasn’t certain about her mother’s feelings about Jason. On the one hand, she was being welcoming, obviously not wanting to undo their family’s connection with his. On the other, she made no effort to display her available daughter (Victoria) to him. It was a missed opportunity, in Victoria’s opinion. And Lady Wilton was not one to miss opportunities.

“You’ve left the dance floor,” Dr. Berridge said low into her ear as he took her through another turn. “And here I had been assured that my dancing was wholly competent.”

She blushed, coming back to herself. “It is,” she smiled up at him. “In fact, I was thinking of how welcome a respite it is to dance with you.”