Her One True Love (9 page)

“I am. Do you think they would consider me?” Excitement rippled through her body, and Jane put her cup on the table beside the settee. “I want to work with children more than anything. I really do.”

“It won't be easy.” Laura widened her eyes with warning and concern. “These houses are run by the local Board of Guardians, and from what I've heard, you'll have a fight on your hands to get them to take you seriously, considering your position.”

“My position? You say that as if I am cavorting myself in public. I am young, I am strong, I am willing to work, and I have a heart big enough for a hundred children.” Jane's voice cracked with readiness. “What other, more suitable position could there be for someone like me?”

Laura grasped Jane's hand and frowned. “I mean your position as a lady, someone closer to upper class than lower. It's highly unlikely they will accept your word alone that you want to work with these children. If you want to do this, I am just warning you that you'll undoubtedly have to be prepared to fight for the opportunity.”

Jane faced Adam. “You believe I can do this, don't you?”

He nodded. “We both do or we wouldn't have told you about the boardinghouse in the first place.” He rose to his feet before picking up each of his children in turn and then pulling them onto his lap as he took a seat. “What Laura and I want to be certain of isn't your capability, but the assurance you want this for yourself and not because you're fleeing from something at Marksville.”

Jane steadfastly pushed the guilt away that part of her motivation lay in her determination to rid herself of feelings for Matthew. She lifted her chin. “I am running from nothing. I am merely pursuing my own happiness rather than waiting for someone else to give it to me. To work, to be with children every day, will make me happy. I know it will.”

He looked to Laura, and Jane went rigid as they exchanged a long look, their faces impassive before they turned and faced her. Jane frowned. “Well?”

Laura grinned. “Fetch me a pen and paper and I'll write down the address. You go to the house tomorrow and introduce yourself to the matron. After that, we'll see what we can do to help you.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Jane leapt from the settee and planted a kiss on Laura's cheek, then Adam's and then on each of the children's, and finally on a shocked Jeannie's as well, before hurrying to her father's bureau for paper and a pen.

Her heart raced with joy and her body trembled with the prospect of what lay ahead. Whether the future held good or bad, she was ready to take on the challenge of tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that. Before long, her weeks would be filled with doing good and helping others to accept and trust the love she had to give.

Before long her unrequited love for Matthew would be nothing more than a memory.

She could hardly wait for the new day to break.

J
ane looked again at the address she'd written on the piece of paper clutched in her hand, before staring at the house in front of her. It stretched to two stories and was located in a less-affluent part of town, yet the more she stared, the more Jane felt strangely at home. As though it was her destiny to be here. She took a deep breath and admonished herself for such silly musings at such a vital moment in her new life.

The front door was ajar, and the wail of a crying baby the only noise that drifted onto the street. Having envisioned scenes of laughing children being cared for by a gently scolding matron who couldn't help but smile, Jane fought her disappointment. Time and again, she'd sensed the doubt of her friends and family that she could fend for herself. She was determined to prove them wrong and show what caring for a demanding, demeaning, and mentally ill mother could make of a young woman.

Pushing open the wooden gate, Jane walked up the pathway toward the front door. The quietness of the house pulled at her once more, but she raised the knocker and let it fall. No further noise or excited calls of children came from within. Jane was about to knock again when the door inched open and the cherubic face of a little boy of four or five peered through the gap.

Jane's heart beat a little faster at the sight of the boy's wide, sad eyes and dark blond curls. She lowered to his height and smiled softly. “Good morning. Could you be a good boy and tell the matron a lady is at the door who wishes to speak with her?”

The boy's gaze darted back and forth from Jane's face to her hat and back again. “She's feeding Tommy.”

“Well, should I come in and wait, do you think? Would that be all right?”

His study fixated on her hat and Jane lifted it from her head, holding it out to him. “Did you want to touch the feathers? Here.”

His eyes widened, the sadness diminishing under a spark of light as he stared at the royal blue plumes on her hat. Tentatively, he reached out and stroked the feathers as though they were made of the most precious silk. Jane's heart screamed with longing to reach out and touch the boy's hair in much the same way he did the feathers. Tears burned and she blinked them away when he lifted his eyes to hers.

He smiled, revealing teeth that were whole, if not entirely clean. He pulled the door open farther, silently inviting her into the house.

Jane straightened and curtsied, making the boy's smile stretch to a grin. “Well, thank you, kind sir.”

She stepped over the threshold and into the narrow hallway, the unexpected quiet striking her anew. Where were the children? The laughter? Where was the matron? She glanced into a room on her left that looked orderly and inviting, before walking toward the back of the house, where soft, infant cries were audible. She jumped when the boy tugged at her skirts. He pointed to a second room on her left.

She hesitated at the threshold, and when she glanced back at the boy, he'd disappeared. Turning back to the room the boy had indicated, Jane took a deep breath, smoothed her skirts, and entered.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness after the reasonably bright hallway and front room. None of the day's sunlight could've possibly penetrated the drawn dark drapes at the window.

“Who're you?”

Jane started.

A woman sat in a rocking chair, a bottle at a baby's mouth as it fussed and fought at the bottle's rubber teat.

Jane forced a smile. “I'm Miss Danes. I was told this is a boardinghouse, but as it only seems to be your son and baby here—”

“What are you talking about? There are at least six more of the blighters upstairs. Now, what do you want? I haven't time for chitchat.”

Jane glanced toward the ceiling. Upstairs? But why weren't they making any noise? She took a step closer to the woman, trying to make out her face in the half light. From what Jane could tell, the woman was maybe ten or so years her senior. Her skin was sallow, and her posture stooped low with obvious exhaustion.

“I was told I might be of use here.” Jane forced a smile. “I am very fond of children and would be happy to help in any way—”

“I don't need no help. Whoever sent you had no right. I know what's what, and that means I don't have uninvited visitors coming by checking up on me. Now, get out.”

Jane narrowed her eyes. She'd had years of her mother speaking to her in much the same way, and if this woman thought she would stand in Jane's way of pursuing her mission, she had better think again. If she had to bide her time, make a few more inquiries, so be it. Yet, the worst thing she could do was bite the hand of the very person who might be the one who opened the door on her moving forward.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Mrs. . . .”

“Mrs. . . . Cage. Now, go on. Like I said, me and these kiddies are just fine on our own.”

Jane walked from the room and pulled the door closed behind her. She took a few steps along the hallway and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. With her hand on the newel post, she shot a single glance to the room where Mrs. Cage fed the baby, before she made a snap decision and crept upstairs.

 

Matthew strode from the house of the third business associate he'd met with that day. The day had gone better than he could've hoped, and now he was in the mood to celebrate. His mood had swung like a pendulum all day. Frustration whenever he thought of Jane, contrasted with euphoria when he secured yet another contract for Biddestone.

Walking toward the city center, he entered the street that boasted one of Bath's many jewels, the Theater Royal. He stopped outside and perused the billboards. He smiled to see Adam Lacey named as director of the top billed play and wondered how Adam and his wife, Laura, fared. Whenever he'd visited Marksville and the Laceys had been there, too, he'd thoroughly enjoyed their company. As much as Adam and Laura appeared an ill-matched couple on first acquaintance, considering his theatrical background and her unabashed honesty, they fit together like bookends.

Adam's play was showing that night. Matthew gave a decisive nod. He would celebrate with a trip to the theater later, albeit on his own. As much as he'd love to ask Jane to accompany him, he would not go back on his resolve to leave her be.

Decision made, he retraced his steps and turned into the street of his hotel, his mood lighter than it had been for most of the day. He was just about to enter the hotel's foyer when the sight of Jane hurrying into the grassy area of Queen Charlotte Square halted him.

Where was she going? Her furrowed brow and pursed lips formed an expression he'd seen many times before. Something had angered her. Something she wouldn't stand for if he had to hazard a guess. She sat on an iron bench a little way inside the gates and glared ahead.

He clenched his jaw. Whatever had upset her was none of his business. He should turn around and go to his room for a rest before dinner and the theater. What he shouldn't be doing was crossing the street and walking through the gate into the Square.

The most senseless thing of all would be to sit down beside her. Yet . . .

“Good afternoon.”

She started and turned to face him, her polite smile vanishing the moment her eyes met his. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the sunshine. How about you?”

She rolled her eyes and looked away into the distance. “I'm thinking.”

“May I ask about what?”

“Children.”

“Children?” Matthew roamed his gaze over her profile, lowered to the smooth column of her throat. Her children would be beautiful. “What of them?”

She met his eyes, seeming to hesitate, before sighing. “If they are happy, they are rarely quiet. Don't you agree?”

“Well . . . no, I don't suppose they are. At least not in my experience.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

She turned away from him.

Matthew frowned and fought the urge to take hold of her hands as she twisted them around and around the strings of her purse. “What is it, Jane? What's happened?”

“I don't want to bother you with it.” She shook her head. “You shouldn't even be talking to me after the way I spoke to you yesterday.”

“How can I not when I can see you're upset? If there is anything I can do—”

“There isn't. I will find my own solution.”

Frustration stirred awake inside him. She did so much for everyone else, yet her stubbornness to accept help, especially as far as he was concerned, rankled.

“You do know that with the need to give love and be loved comes the ability to accept help?”

“What do you mean by that? I have more than enough love to give.”

“I agree. Yet, time and again, I see you refusing the help of others. Or is it really just my help you don't want?”

Her hazel eyes blazed with irritation. “Accepting a person's help has nothing to do with love. You can't begin to compare the two.”

“I disagree. To love someone means you want to help them. You want to see them happy.”

Her cheeks flushed and she narrowed her eyes. “Then you shouldn't want to help anyone, considering your desire to never fall in love again.”

“When did I say that?”

“You said you would be very careful about the choice of your next wife. That you would forewarn her of what the position of being a squire's wife would entail. Those are hardly the words of a romantic.”

He looked away into the distance, focusing his gaze on a young couple talking among the trees. The man looked into the woman's eyes, smoothing a lock of hair from her brow. “Love is something we all want.” He faced her, his chest constricting with unwelcome grief. “But sometimes it can be inconvenient.”

Her eyes widened. “Inconven . . . Oh Matthew.”

“What?”

She shook her head and turned away from him. “Just leave me be.”

He clenched his jaw and looked at her clasped hands. “Not until you tell me what has happened.”

Maybe he had been ignorant of her sadness, despite their closeness over the years, but he wasn't ignorant now, and if it was in his power to help her, he would.

She turned.

Her eyes stormed with uncertainty and indecision.

He took her hand and tightened his fingers around hers. “Maybe I don't deserve for you to accept my help when I haven't been there for you in the past, but if you take a chance, I might be the one who can take you a step closer to whatever it is your heart desires.”

She stared at him, her eyes darkening with something he couldn't decipher.

He took a breath and pushed on. “I assume your comment about children means you have come across some avenue that has meant you have been in children's company?”

She frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“About children? Well—”

“Not that.” She gave an impatient shake of her head. “Why would you even mention my heart desires? What do you know of my heart?”

“I know you well enough to know—”

“You know nothing about me.” She turned away, pulling her hand from his and once more clutching her purse.

Matthew's frustration mounted. What on earth had he said wrong this time? It seemed at every direction, he angered her.

“Fine.” She turned, her gaze lingering on his. “I
have
seen some children.”

“And?”

“And now I'm confused.” Her shoulders slumped. “Left with no idea what to do next.”

The softening in her eyes told Matthew the storm had passed . . . for now.

He lowered his voice. “Tell me what happened.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. “Laura gave me an address of a boardinghouse. I went there this morning and . . .” She smiled. “The dearest little boy answered the door. He was adorable but barely spoke a word to me. He was more interested in my hat than anything else.”

He looked to her hat and then her eyes. “Well, it is pretty . . .”

Her cheeks flushed. “That's hardly the point.”

“Then what is?”

Her smile faltered and the brightness in her gaze dimmed. “The lack of noise or activity in the house was striking. I managed to gain access, and when I stood inside . . .”

Concern knotted his stomach. If anyone had been rude or upset her . . . “Jane?”

“The matron was in a back room feeding a baby. She sent me on my way, saying she didn't need my help.” She grimaced. “Maybe I should've just left, but something about the quiet of the house unnerved me so I decided to investigate.”

Despite his heavy sense of foreboding, Matthew bit back a smile. He'd expect nothing less once her mind was set. “And?”

“I walked upstairs and there, in one of the bedrooms, were six children. Six. They looked aged from possibly two or three, to eight or nine. I crept into the room and none of them so much as flinched or asked me who I was.” Her hands lifted and fell as she spoke. “Doesn't that make you sad? They looked perfectly well fed, if a little raggedly dressed, but their eyes . . .” She stared deep into his eyes, her voice cracking. “They looked so bereft and lonely. It took every ounce of my strength not to gather them into my arms right there and then.”

Before he could think of the consequences, he stole his arm around her shoulders and she immediately dropped her head to his chest, a sob escaping her. He closed his eyes and held her, his heart aching with her pain. He inhaled and the soft scent of femininity rose to his nostrils and teased his resolve to step back and allow Jane her independence.

“What can I do?” He opened his eyes, his jaw tightening. “What do you want me to do? Just name it and I will do everything in my power—”