Where there is Love: The Colchester Sisters Read online

  “What does it say?” Verity whispered.

  “My dearest Jane,

  I do hope you are enjoying your day so far and am pleased to tell you that the best is yet to come. If you are still of a mind to continue with the treasure hunt, then make your way to the home of Mrs. Darlington. She will be expecting you between midday and one o’clock.

  I hope you have a very pleasant afternoon.

  With all my love.”

  As Jane finished reading the letter, she realized she had done so a little loudly. The flower seller was smiling at her with great amusement, enjoying her excitement in a most good-natured way. She smiled and nodded at him before getting ready to leave.

  “Thank you kindly,” she said.

  “Just a moment, Miss,” he said and reached under the stall to produce a beautiful bunch of bright red tulips. “He chose these especially for you, my dear.” The flower seller handed them to her with the warmest of smiles.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Jane said and felt suddenly overwhelmed.

  It was not just the wonderful, exciting treasure hunt and the most romantic efforts of the mystery man which had her feeling a little emotional. It was the kindness of those who had so easily undertaken to become a part of it. Verity, accompanying her, Mrs. Deary and the flower seller happy to do the mystery man’s bidding and their enjoyment of every moment of Jane’s pleasure.

  Suddenly, the world had become an intensely romantic place again, perhaps even more intensely romantic than it had ever been before. Jane blinked back happy little tears and thanked the flower seller once again before taking her sister’s hand and hurrying her back towards the carriage.

  “I must admit, it is enough to take your breath away,” Verity said when they were finally seated in the carriage and making a slow plod in the direction of Mrs. Darlington’s home on the edge of Colington.

  It was only a quarter to midday and Jane did not want to arrive too early.

  “I cannot think of a time when I have been more excited, Verity.”

  “I am so pleased to see that little spark back in your eyes again, Jane. You look so thrilled. Surely, this is far better than anything Beatrice enjoyed.”

  “It most certainly is,” Jane laughed. “And you forget, Verity, that Beatrice is not real.”

  “Oh, now you see it,” Verity said, and the sisters laughed heartily.

  By the time it was midday and they reached the home of Mrs. Darlington, Jane was already feeling a little tired. She had been moving, it seemed, from the very moment she had awoken and found the first wonderful letter on her windowsill. And already it had been hours since she had read it, how was she to manage much more excitement?

  When the driver helped them down from the carriage, Jane could see that Mrs. Darlington was already standing next to her little maid on the doorstep, smiling broadly and clearly ready for them.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Darlington,” Jane said and felt a little embarrassed. “I expect you know more about my appearance here than I do.”

  “Indeed, I do, my dear,” Mrs. Darlington said and took Jane’s hands in her own for a moment in greeting. “Well, come on in both of you.”

  In no time at all, Jane and Verity were sitting comfortably on one of the couches in Mrs. Darlington’s drawing room. Tea was ready so quickly that it was clear Mrs. Darlington had rightly gathered that the girls would arrive sooner rather than later.

  “I feel as if I have been awake for days,” Jane said as she gratefully sipped the hot tea. “I must say, it is wonderfully warm in here.”

  “Well, as long as you are comfortable,” Mrs. Darlington said but remained on her feet instead of joining them for tea. “Now, I have a little something here which I hope you will find entertaining.” Mrs. Darlington, Jane could see, was unfolding a sheet of paper.

  “Another letter?” Jane asked, her excitement easily piercing her fatigue.

  “No, not this time. But I have been asked to read it nonetheless. Or perhaps I should say recite it.” She smiled warmly and looked down at the piece of paper.

  “My beautiful Jane with your eyes so green,

  How very easily you must have seen,

  That underneath it all, and surely you know it,

  I, as a man, make a dreadful poet.

  But let me say without further ado,

  Above all things, I love you.”

  Jane gasped with delight as Mrs. Darlington finished reading the poem. Mrs. Darlington, however, winced.

  “As you know, my dear Jane, I have heard hour upon hour of poetry recited in this very room and I can openly admit to you now that I have never heard anything as dreadfully set out as this.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Darlington, but it is the most beautiful poem I have ever heard,” Jane said and finally a little tear rolled down her cheek.

  “This must mean a great deal to you, my dear.” Mrs. Darlington finally took a seat opposite the Colchester sisters and poured herself a cup of tea. “And despite the fact that it is very roughly done, I am bound to say that there is a sweetness to it. And given who has written it, it is nothing short of a miracle.”

  “And who has written it, Mrs. Darlington?” Jane asked, wondering if she was now about to discover the identity of her mystery man.

  “Now that would be telling, Jane,” Mrs. Darlington said with a wicked chuckle as her pleasingly lined face broke into such a beautiful smile. “All I can do is give you the next part of the puzzle.”

  “Oh yes, please do,” Jane said and looked to Verity. “Goodness, the day just gets better and better.”

  “Indeed, it does,” Verity said and clasped her sister’s hand tightly.

  “So, you are to return home for the rest of the afternoon and take a little rest. I daresay that the both of you have earned it,” Mrs. Darlington began. “But you are to attend the pleasure gardens in Colington in the early evening to finally discover the identity of the man who is wooing you. He says you are to find a bench in the pleasure gardens next to a tree which will have a little lantern hanging from it.”

  “Oh, my goodness, half of the trees in the pleasure gardens have lanterns hanging from them at this time of year,” Jane said and laughed excitedly.

  “But likely not very many which are next to a bench.” Mrs. Darlington raised her eyebrows. “And once you have found the bench, you must search beneath it for the man who desires you greatly shall leave a note fixed there.”

  “The poor man must have scrivener’s palsy,” Verity said with a sigh.

  “He must have what?” Jane said and looked at her sister quizzically.

  “Writer’s cramp, Jane!” Verity said and laughed before reaching for her tea. “Goodness, what a day this is.”

  “Oh, I do hope you are enjoying it,” Jane said.

  “Very much,” Verity said. “I would not miss it for the world.”

  “Well, at least the pair of you have enough time to relax and drink your tea.” Mrs. Darlington said and looked pleased in the knowledge she would have their company for a little while.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By the time they returned home, Jane was wide awake and full of excitement once more. To her surprise, her mother, father, and brother were all in the drawing room.

  It was such an event of late to have them all in the same place at the same time that Jane excitedly told them the whole thing, with little interruptions from Verity who had a much better grip of the timeline, their direction of travel, duration of stay in each place, and other such similar important if bland facts.

  “The pleasure gardens?” her father said with an amused snort. “In Colington? There are hardly any trees to choose from in such a small place.”

  “I know it is not Vauxhall Gardens, Papa, but it is quite large enough and very pretty at this time of year,” Jane railed humorously. “It will do very well for me.”

  “As pretty as it is this time of year, it will still be a little dark,” Edward said in a serious and fatherly tone. “I ought really to go with
you. I cannot let you and Verity go out alone on such an expedition, romantic or otherwise.”

  “Oh, no!” Jane said and felt panic-stricken. “You will do something or say something to put him off altogether.”

  “I shall try my hardest not to be offended by your unkind words, daughter.” Edward laughed.

  “Oh, she is right, Edward,” Mrs. Colchester said gently. “You are rather off-putting.”

  “Thank you kindly, wife of mine.”

  “Perhaps Amos would be a better choice of guardian on this occasion?” Elizabeth used her best wheedling manner on her husband.

  “Oh yes! I should be glad to!” Amos said, sounding more excited than Jane would ever have given him credit for. “I am desperate to know if it is Woolford or if it is Normanton.”

  “It is neither of them,” Jane said confidently. “They could not work out something so special if they figured it between them!”

  “Oh,” Amos said and shrugged.

  “But I would be grateful if you did come with us, Amos,” Jane said hurriedly, really not wanting her uncontrollable father in the middle of things.

  “It would be an honor, my dear. An adventure for the Colchester siblings.” He laughed and was clearly looking forward to the event.

  “Well, perhaps you really ought to have a little rest now, Jane,” their mother said gently. “And you too, Verity. By the sound of it you have had a most eventful day and if you do not take a little rest now, I fear that you will both be so overexcited and overtired that you should be unwell and not be able to attend the pleasure gardens at all.”

  “Yes, of course,” Jane said and gripped Verity’s hand.

  Without further ado, she carted her sister out of the room and straight upstairs. She pulled her all the way to her room so that the two of them might lay side-by-side so that she could at least talk about the whole thing over and over again if she could get no sleep as her mother had directed.

  However, they had been laying down no more than five minutes when Verity had other ideas, ideas that were perfectly demonstrated by the gentle, low rumble of her snoring.

  And even Jane, so convinced that she was too excited to ever sleep again, finally fell into a wonderful, soothing slumber.

  Chapter Twenty

  As small as it was in comparison to Vauxhall Gardens, the pleasure gardens at Colington did their very best to entertain. Much inspiration had been drawn from its London counterpart and there were little lights in the trees, magicians and jugglers, food stands, singers, and earnest young men reciting their latest poetic works. There were little bits and pieces of theatre happening here and there, traveling actors doing what they could to earn a few coins from the better off of Hertfordshire.

  Jane had always adored the gardens, but never more than on that night. Darkness had just fallen, and the lamps twinkled all the brighter as the blue of the sky slowly became black.

  Jane’s heart had never been so open, and she had never felt magic in the air as she did in that moment. It was as if the very night itself was alive with possibility, with romance, with her whole future.

  She could smell all the wonderful aromas of hot food mixed in with the delicate night scented stocks which were planted in profusion throughout the pleasure gardens. And there was a gentle hum of so many voices, people from all parts of the town and beyond who had come to spend the pleasant spring evening with everybody else there; separate, but somehow together.

  “Well, I suppose we ought to set to and find this bench, ought we not?” Amos said with obvious enjoyment. “Which way shall we go?”

  “I think we should just take the circular path,” Verity said sensibly. “I am sure that we will encounter all of the benches along that route.”

  “Very well,” Amos said and crooked both arms so that each of his sisters might hold onto him.

  Despite their great excitement, the little party walked along in silence. It was as if they were each trapped in their own thoughts for a little while, or at least concentrating hard on finding a bench next to a tree with a lantern on it.

  “Oh look, there it is!” Verity said in a high-pitched voice. “We will have to go across the grass, but there it is.”

  “Oh, well done, Verity,” Amos said with admiration as the three of them set off for the abandoned little bench.

  And the lantern which had been placed upon the tree was very different from the ones which were hanging throughout the rest of the park.

  This was a small, old, oil lamp and it had clearly been put there on purpose by Jane’s mystery man. When they reached the bench, Amos and Verity stood back and allowed Jane to lean forward and feel beneath the wooden slats until she found the letter which had been fixed there.

  She opened the seal and unfolded it, moving to stand beneath the light that the little oil lamp provided.

  “Well, what does it say?” Amos asked a little impatiently.

  Jane read aloud,

  “My dearest Jane,

  You have arrived here finally, and I am glad that you have taken part in every bit of the day I had planned for you. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have, and it will not be long now before you discover the identity of the man who has spent these last weeks trying his hardest to impress you.

  But for the next part of the treasure hunt, turn and look back towards the center of the gardens. Let your eyes fall upon the only little group of actors you can see there. Tell them your name, my dear, and they will have something of excitement for you. I hope you enjoy it.

  With all my love.”

  “Oh yes, there is a little group of actors. But there are only three of them,” Verity said, sounding excited and disappointed all at once.

  “I am sure three will be more than enough to deliver an exciting message,” Amos said and gathered up his sisters once more to head for the center of the park.

  The three actors, without an audience of any kind, were practicing some little piece of theatre when the little party arrived.

  “Good evening,” Amos said brightly. “I have my sister with me, Miss Jane Colchester. I believe you have something for her?” he said a little cautiously.

  “Indeed, we do, Sir,” said one of the men. “Make yourselves comfortable, it is not a very long piece,” he went on as the three of them settled down on an iron bench.

  The man who had greeted them stood a little to one side and Jane very quickly realized that he was to be the narrator of the piece. The other male actor was a good deal younger, as was the beautiful flame-haired young woman at his side.

  “And now I must begin our little play, a tale to surprise and delight the heart,” the narrator said and performed a dramatically deep bow.

  Jane smiled from ear to ear, knowing that she did not care at all if the little play was the silliest thing she had ever seen in her life. She would listen intently and commit every part of it to memory. She knew already that it would be the most special thing in the world.

  “It is a tale of a young man, and not just any young man,” the narrator began. “This man was desperately in love,” he said and looked to the young male actor who stared whimsically off into the distance.

  “The young man had been in love for longer than he could remember. But the young woman he loved so dearly had never had a clue about it,” he said and looked again to the center of the little piece of theatre as the flame-haired young woman skipped along without paying the poor lovelorn young man any heed whatsoever.

  “She was such a beauty that she had filled his head and heart completely. He sent her gifts without a signature in the hope that she would be pleased by him,” the narrator went on as the lovelorn young man left little boxes, little gifts, around the feet of the actress.

  “He wrote her poems, even though he had no talent for it at all. But he loved her so much that he would have done anything to make his way into her heart. Day after day, night after night, the young man waited and hoped that one day the beautiful young woman would realize who it was who had
loved her all along. She would know him, and she would love him for who he was; a heartfelt romantic if not a practiced one.” And as the narrator looked to the center of the action, the young woman had finally noticed the young man and had fallen into his arms.

  When the actors drew together and took a little bow, Amos and Verity clapped heartily.

  But Jane, tears streaming down her face, rose to her feet and looked all around her.

  “Richard!” she called out loudly, much to the surprise of her brother and sister. “Richard! Where are you? Richard!” Her tears streamed down her face unchecked as she searched the darkness for her mystery man.

  “I am here, Jane,” said Richard as he stepped out from behind a tree just a few feet away from where the actors had performed their little piece of theatre.

  With a little cry, Jane ran to him, not stopping until she had fallen into his arms.

  She heard the gentle clapping of the actors and could hear Verity and Amos talking excitedly between themselves. But it was all in the background, somewhat muted as if all she could hear now was the voice of the man she really did love.

  “I cannot tell you what a relief it is to finally have you know it is me who loves you, Jane.”

  “And I cannot tell you what a relief it is to discover that the man who has tried so hard to impress me is you, Richard. I feel so silly for demanding such ridiculous things.”

  “I was rather glad of dear old Beatrice, as it happens,” he said, leaning back a little and releasing her before taking her face into his hands. “She did give me some rather good ideas.”

  “But you made them your own.”

  “Perhaps I am not quite the poet, but it was certainly my own work,” he laughed heartily. “Although, I cannot imagine any other man laying claim to any of it, can you?”

  “No man is good enough to write the words you wrote, Richard,” she said, smiling up at him and wishing that he would just kiss her.

  “Perhaps I have a talent for it. Perhaps I should keep it up,” Richard chuckled.

  “This day has been the most wonderful, the most exciting, the most romantic. You have not just followed the book, Richard, you have done everything in your own way. Poor old Lord Pemberchook could never have dreamed of such a wonderful idea as your treasure hunt. Every part of it has been so thrilling.”