Where there is Love: The Colchester Sisters Page 2

  “You would do better to send Verity. Verity knows how to pare everything down to its bare essentials. What might take you an hour and a half would take Verity a matter of minutes.”

  “I realize you meant that as an offense, sister, but in reality, it is something of a compliment,” Verity said without looking up from her book.

  “What are you reading, Jane? I am sure it is something a little more exciting than mechanization in the textile industry,” Richard said, and nodded at the little book on the low table next to where Jane was sitting.

  “Ho! What fun!” Verity said and laughed loudly.

  “Goodness, what is it?” Richard leaned forward in his seat and looked from the book to Jane and back again.

  “Verity is just having a little bit of fun at my expense. It is a romance novel, a very good one, although Verity would not recognize a good romance if its meaning had been engraved on her inner eyelids.”

  “I see the two of you have had a little fun over this book?” Richard laughed. The camaraderie between the Colchester sisters had always been a great source of comfort to him.

  “Of course, Verity would no more read this than I would read that dreadful book she is currently engrossed in.” Jane went on. “But to answer your question, Richard, this wonderful little book is called The Romancing of Beatrice.”

  “Oh, what fun,” Richard said, parroting Verity’s sentiment, much to Verity’s amusement.

  “It actually is rather fun, Richard. It is about a young woman who is so fortunate that she has handsome young men all over the county tripping over their own feet to get her attention. And in order to compete with one another, they try to come up with more and more exciting ways, more romantic ways, of wooing young Beatrice.”

  “Lucky old Beatrice,” Richard said and smiled. “Well, what sort of things do these hapless young men get up to?”

  Without another word, Jane picked up the little book and began to thumb through it, presumably to find a perfect example of what made it such a fine read. At the same time, a maid came in with a heavily laden tea tray and Richard was delighted to discover that even the maid knew him well enough to pile the plates high with bread-and-butter.

  “How lovely, bread-and-butter,” he said and smiled at the maid.

  “Right, I have the perfect example,” Jane said, and tapped the book.

  The maid smiled broadly, clearly even she had been subjected to a passage or two from The Romancing of Beatrice.

  “Read on, dear Jane.”

  “When Beatrice awoke that morning, she knew that something was different.” Jane began after clearing her throat loudly. “There was a lightness and brightness about her chamber, a sense that she had not been entirely alone.”

  “Goodness, that sounds rather improper.” Verity called out humorously, still not looking up from her own book.

  “Just wait a moment, it is not improper at all,” Jane scolded, and Richard laughed.

  “And it was then that she saw it, there, on the windowsill, a single red rose. Beatrice threw back the bed linens and stepped into her velvet slippers. She pulled her shawl about her shoulders and made her way across the room, her heart pounding with excitement. The sash window was closed, but she knew that that was how her admirer had managed to leave so romantic a gift. She lifted the rose so that she might breathe in its wonderful, delicate scent. And the calling card set next to it on the windowsill declared that none other than Lord Pemberchook had been the man who had climbed the thick ivy from the ground to her chamber window, risking life and limb as he gently eased up the sash to leave her a memento of his undying love.” Jane finished with a sigh.

  “I would say that the poor chap was dashed lucky not to have tugged at a weak branch of Ivy and sail down to his death,” Richard said chuckling. “And did you say Pemberchook? Whatever sort of a name is that? It is a made-up name, surely? I have never met a man alive who goes by the name of Pemberchook.”

  “Precisely,” Verity said, clearly enjoying having an ally in all of it. “Even the names are silly.”

  “Well, you both might scoff, but I like it. I wish the world were more like this book,” Jane said, and for the first time did not look as if she was amused. “There is nothing wrong with a little romance in life. I would not be as cynical as either one of you for a kingdom.”

  “Forgive me, Jane, I should not have been so cynical. And you are right, there is nothing at all wrong with a little romance in life,” Richard said and peered into her green eyes for a moment. “Nothing.”

  “Very well,” Jane sighed and put the book down, “I will pour this tea.”

  And as she poured tea and set plates out for them all, Richard studied her. His old friend, his neighbor, and the only woman he would ever love. If only he knew how to be romantic enough to appeal to her. But what were the chances of him changing overnight?

  Chapter Three

  A few days later when Jane and her sister attended the local assembly rooms with their father, she found she had cheered up considerably. She knew, after all, that Verity and Richard’s teasing was just that; teasing. They meant nothing by it and she knew from experience that everybody in the world was different. Just because she was a romantic did not mean that they must be also. She loved them for who they were, and she knew that they did likewise.

  But that realization was not the true source of her lighter spirit. Jane had continued to read the wonderful romantic adventures of Beatrice and her old spirit had returned to her. As she had got herself ready for the evening, Jane had imagined meeting more than one potential suitor, the type of men who would be willing to show their own romantic heart to her by performing one of the wonderful and loving displays that Beatrice’s fictional suitors had done.

  And so, she had put in the extra effort, wearing a dramatic plum-colored gown that looked well with her dark brown hair and pale skin. She wore long white gloves and a simple silver chain around her neck with a love heart locket hanging from it. The locket was currently empty, but she imagined that it would one day be filled with a tiny cameo of herself on one side and another of her handsome suitor on the other.

  “It is looking rather packed this evening. The Master of Ceremonies will have his work cut out for him,” Edward chuckled.

  Jane looked at her father and could see that he had already fixed upon his company for the evening. One of his dearest friends, Bartholomew Redford, was in attendance, and Jane already knew that her father would spend the larger part of the evening in deep conversation with him. However much Edward laughed at his wife and daughters and their propensity for non-stop chatter and gossip, he was rather skilled at the art himself.

  “Mr. Redford is here, sister,” Verity whispered mischievously into her ear. “And with no mama present, it looks as if we might have a very easy time of it.”

  Verity was, of course, alluding to the fact that the Colchester sisters were very much going to have free rein for the evening. It was not that their father did not care, nor was it that he was inattentive, but rather that he could not concentrate on a deep conversation with his friend and keep up surveillance of his daughters also.

  Jane and Verity would never do anything that did not make their father proud, but both of them relaxed a good deal more in company when they were not being closely watched.

  “And here is Richard,” Jane said brightly as he approached.

  He really did look very fine in cream breeches, highly polished black knee boots, and a dark blue tailcoat and waistcoat. With his very dark brown hair and a close-cropped beard, Richard, like Jane, suited most colors.

  “Good evening, ladies.” Richard swooped low to perform an amusingly elaborate bow. “And may I say how very beautiful you both look.”

  “You look very beautiful too, Richard,” Jane said teasingly.

  “You are not the first to tell me that, my dear,” Richard said and winked at Jane in a rather roguish manner. “Ah, I see your father has discarded you already.” He laughed when he regard
ed Edward ’s departing back. “That is the last you will see of him until it is time to get back into your carriage.”

  “What a good thing we have you here to make sure we do not run amok,” Verity said with a bright smile.

  “Indeed, it is,” Richard said in an amusingly solemn tone.

  “Forgive me for intruding upon you, my dears.” Lady Miller appeared in front of them, seemingly from thin air. “My dear Jane, I should very much like to introduce you to my nephew. He is my sister’s boy and such a fine young man,” she enthused. “Would you permit me?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  Lady Miller was a nice woman if a little forceful at times and she always reminded Jane of a fragile little bird. It always seemed strange to Jane that such a small and thin woman could seem to exercise a little power over people. Although it was gently delivered, it was almost always something that a person could not argue against for some reason.

  “Oh yes, of course,” Jane said, reminding herself that she had decided to be open to the world, just like Beatrice.

  Beatrice had not settled upon one young man but rather had kept her options open. She did not become close to anybody, nor did she allow one particular man to court her. And that was how she had decided to choose the very best, and Jane thought that if it was good enough for Beatrice, it was good enough for Jane.

  “Would you excuse me for a moment?” She turned to Richard and Verity.

  “Of course, my dear,” Verity said, and Richard simply nodded.

  Lady Miller laced a bony arm through Jane’s and led her stridently across the assembly rooms to where a tall and well-dressed man, who was as fair as Jane was dark, stood alone.

  He was a striking figure, being a little older than Jane at perhaps three-and-twenty. He really was tall and his black breeches and olive-green tailcoat had been cut to perfection. He turned as they approached and smiled.

  “My dear Bryce, I simply must introduce you to Miss Jane Colchester,” Lady Miller said with a flourish. “Jane, my dear, this is my nephew, Mr. Bryce Normanton.”

  “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Normanton,” Jane said and gently inclined her head.

  “And I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Colchester.” Bryce bowed neatly. “I have not been to the assembly rooms for two or three years at least. My aunt persuaded me,” he laughed, and it was a pleasing sound. “But of course, if you know her, you know that she is a very persuasive woman indeed.”

  “Very forthright,” Jane said and smiled at Lady Miller who was absolutely thrilled with the compliment.

  “Well, I am glad of her forthright nature this evening,” he smiled at her and Jane felt a flush of pleasure.

  The handsome young man could only mean that he was glad he had come out for the evening if only to meet her. That was a good start.

  “I have not seen you for a little while, Jane. Tell me, what have you been doing with yourself of late?” Lady Miller said, and it was clear that she was doing a little matchmaking.

  That kindly, fragile, forceful little bird was going to facilitate Jane by giving her a platform to show herself off, to let Bryce know just how interesting and accomplished she was.

  “I suppose things have been a little quiet since Esme married.” Jane began.

  “Oh yes, I think I mentioned it, Bryce. Jane’s sister is the Duchess of Gorton.”

  “Indeed?” Bryce smiled politely.

  “I suppose I have missed her a little. My sister, Verity and I both have, really.” Jane said truthfully. “And winter always keeps one indoors, does it not? I am glad to see that spring is on the way,” she went on.

  “Yes indeed, the cold weather does my old bones no good at all,” Lady Miller said, and her nephew laughed.

  “You are strong as an ox, Aunt. You are fooling nobody.” He continued to laugh.

  “You still play bridge, Jane? I have always found you and your sisters to be very accomplished players.” Lady Miller went on determinedly and Jane wondered if the poor dear had found herself struggling to interest her nephew in the best and brightest young ladies of Hertfordshire.

  “Oh yes, I still play bridge, I adore it. But I am afraid that, apart from the usual run of social events, I have kept to the house a good deal. I suppose I have been a little lazy, Lady Miller, content to curl up in front of the fire and read.”

  “That sounds like a very fine way to spend an afternoon, Jane.” Bryce studied her for a moment and Jane felt the little thrill of being admired. “It is something I like to do myself when I have the chance of it. Although, I generally add a nice warming glass of brandy to the proceedings.”

  “I am not sure my father would allow it,” Jane laughed, “although, it does sound rather nice.”

  “What are you reading at the moment, my dear?” Lady Miller went on.

  “Oh, it is a rather silly book, I am afraid, but I am bound to say that I am enjoying it immensely,” Jane said and wondered if Lady Miller would view the romantic tome in the same way her sister did. “I am reading The Romancing of Beatrice.”

  “Oh, what fun!” Lady Miller almost shrieked with excitement. “I have just begun it myself and it is the absolute talk of my knitting circle.”

  “I think I have heard of this book,” Bryce said with a mixture of interest and amusement. “It has quite taken the country by storm, has it not?”

  “I believe it has,” Jane said, knowing full well the effect that the compelling little novel was having on everybody.

  “I have even heard of young men reading it to give themselves ideas of how to woo the ladies,” Bryce chuckled but studied Jane with even more intensity.

  At that moment, Jane imagined that he was trying to gauge her reaction to his words. Did he want to have some confirmation that a young man would do well to not only read the book, but to act upon it? Whether he was or whether he was not, Jane decided to be encouraging.

  “Are they really?” Jane said with forced brightness. “Well, what a very clever idea.”

  “It most certainly is.” Lady Miller agreed wholeheartedly.

  All in all, Jane was feeling very pleased with herself. As far as she was concerned, Bryce was the first of many potential romantic young suitors to be put to the test.

  Chapter Four

  “Lady Miller’s nephew seems much taken with Jane,” Richard said with little hope of keeping his disappointment out of his voice.

  “Do not sound so glum, Richard. Jane might be a romantic, but she is not a silly woman. She would not accept a proposal so easily.”

  “Who said anything about a proposal?” Richard said, looking back over towards Jane and the handsome fair-haired man a little desperately. “Why do you think that he will propose?”

  “For goodness sake, Richard,” Verity said and laughed. “I was just talking generally.”

  “Still, it is bound to happen sooner or later,” he said and felt deflated. “Jane is greatly admired.”

  “Yes, she is. But she does not fall for simple admiration, whatever her claims about that silly book.”

  “What silly book?” Richard said and looked at Verity in confusion.

  “The Romancing of Beatrice. How could you have forgotten,” Verity laughed.

  “Oh, the book she was reading out to us the other day?”

  “The very same.” Verity looked at him earnestly. “It is taking the country by storm, everybody is reading it.”

  “What is so special about it?”

  “I cannot say, I have not read it.”

  “But I thought you said that everybody was reading it, Verity,” Richard teased.

  “Everybody except you and me, apparently,” Verity grinned. “But perhaps you ought to read it, Richard. Perhaps it would give you the romantic ideas you are sadly lacking in your own right.”

  “Are you saying that I am not a romantic man?”

  “That is precisely what I am saying.”

  “All right, I suppose I do lack in that arena,” he said and turned
to glance across the assembly rooms once more.

  The dance was well attended that evening and he was sure that those taking part in the dancing were doing so with the express intention of cutting off his view of Jane and Lady Miller’s nephew. He turned his head this way and that trying to get a better look and even took one step to the side before he was able to study them again.

  That Lady Miller. If only she had not interfered. If she had stayed away, Jane would be spending the evening in his company rather than the handsome fair-haired young man’s. Worse still, Jane seemed to be enjoying herself. He knew from her expression that she was laughing, and he knew her laugh so well that he could hear it in his head.

  She was so delicate, so graceful and beautiful. Why could he not be appealing to her in the way that Lady Miller’s nephew clearly was?

  “I think you should get yourself a copy of this book at the earliest opportunity,” Verity said, breaking through his trancelike stare.

  “Why? You surely do not think that I should climb up the ivy of your father’s house to leave a rose, do you?”

  “No, because we do not have ivy, Richard. We have a wisteria, but I hardly think it is strong enough to support you. In truth, if you are going to go to such lengths, I suggest a ladder,” Verity said and looked thoughtful. “Yes, I think a ladder would be safer.”

  “That you can say such a thing without laughing amazes me.”

  “Why should it? I do not mean to be funny, Richard. I am quite serious.”

  “About the ladder or about my buying this ridiculous book?”

  “Both. But predominantly about you buying the book. If you want to appeal to Jane, then you will need to do something to provoke your imagination.”

  “Who said anything about my appealing to Jane,” Richard said, not sure he liked the idea of having been found out.

  “Nobody. But then nobody needs to say anything at all when you are twisting and turning like an eel on a line to get the best view of my sister and Lady Miller’s nephew. Your actions speak volumes, Richard.”