Shades of Milk and Honey Read online

  To give herself time to think, Jane crossed the room and sat opposite Melody. “Am I to understand that you did not hurt your ankle yesterday?”

  “I hurt it exactly as much as I hurt it a fortnight ago. Only my jealousy injured me.” Melody flung herself back on the sofa.

  “Jealousy? What or who are you so jealous of that you would pretend to be injured?”

  “Of you! How am I to compare with you and your great talents? I saw how everyone admired your tableau vivant and how they looked at me as if wondering what I could do, and the answer is nothing. I can do nothing that a man such as Mr. Dunkirk would esteem. And so when I stumbled and lost my shoe and Mr. Dunkirk—” Here she sighed and covered her face again. “He was by my side, so suddenly and so quickly helping me up. I wanted it to last longer, so I pretended that I needed more aid than I did, and then when Captain Livingston came to my aid as well . . . ! It was wrong. I know it was wrong. But you must understand that I could not then admit that I had not hurt myself.”

  Jane shook her head, bewildered by her sister’s jealousy toward her. Her! Who had not the slightest hope of marrying, were it not for the sum that Mr. Ellsworth had put away for her dowry. But more than the bewilderment, she was dismayed by what her sister had confessed. “You could certainly have explained that the injury was not so great as it first appeared; that shock had given it more weight than it merited. Oh, Melody, what were you thinking?”

  “I was not thinking! I was feeling! And is it so terrible a thing? I have hurt no one save myself, and he came today, did he not?” She twisted her hands together in supplication. “Please. You cannot tell anyone. I should die if he knew.”

  It was not clear whether “he” were Mr. Dunkirk or Captain Livingston, but Jane felt that it hardly mattered. She could not censure Melody strongly enough. To be entreated to keep this a secret between them, when all her common sense cried out to tell her father, was almost too great a burden. Though the greater part of her knew that it would do no good, Jane tried to impress upon her younger sister the seriousness of what she had done. “Yes, he came. In response to a lie. Melody, you must understand that lies are not confined to words; deeds, too, may be—”

  “I do not need to be lectured by you, dear sister, to know what I have done.” Melody stood abruptly, without any sign of the injury she had claimed. “I confided in you, hoping that you would understand the very real torment in my breast, but you have thrown my confidence back in my face. I trusted you with my peace of mind and you have taken that from me. Now who will I turn to, if I cannot trust you?” Without waiting for a response, she strode across the drawing room. At the door, she paused and then limped cautiously out, giving lie to her protestations of torment as she made her slow way out of the drawing room, prolonging her falsehood in the sight of any who saw her.

  Jane sat in silence, struggling to compose herself. If she had any hope of taming her sister’s notions of propriety, then she would have to find a way to mend this breach between them.

  Nine

  A Tonic in the Maze

  It seemed as if Jane’s words to Melody had some effect, for Melody assayed a rapid recovery from her false injury. The next day she was declaring that she felt quite fit and that the injury had not been as severe as she initially thought. Jane heard her own words parroted back when Mr. Dunkirk and his sister came to call: “The shock of the fall made me think that the injury was greater than it was.”

  His doubt was so apparent that Melody suggested they walk among the shrubbery to prove that she was quite steady on her feet. He ventured to question whether that would be wise, which only made Melody the more determined to go out. “The paths in the shrubbery are quite flat and well paved. There is not the slightest danger of injury, I assure you.”

  Mr. Dunkirk appealed to Jane. “Do you think it is quite safe?”

  Beside him, Melody’s face was a mute mask of appeal.

  “If my sister says she is well, then I am quite certain she is able to walk,” Jane replied.

  They set out to explore expanse of the shrubbery, as Miss Dunkirk had only previously been on the Long Walk. The tall yew hedges provided ample opportunity for the parties to become separated from one another. Jane, perceiving that the surest way to shew her sister that she had no cause to be jealous was by withdrawing and allowing her to walk alone with Mr. Dunkirk, contrived to draw Miss Dunkirk deeper into the twisting passages of the shrubbery and then into the maze carved into its center.

  Miss Dunkirk exclaimed in delight upon learning of the maze and at once wanted to find the middle of it. They set off, leaving Mr. Dunkirk and Melody promenading down the Long Walk. Jane followed a few paces behind Miss Dunkirk, hiding a smile as they rounded one corner and then the next, knowing full well that it would lead to a dead end. Though she had long since memorized the maze, she remembered the satisfaction of learning the paths as a child. Now, she never led anyone straight to the heart of the maze, but rather let them find it on their own so that they might enjoy the same pleasure of solving a puzzle.

  This same satisfaction came to her when she was trying to understand a particularly complicated bit of glamour or piece together the answer to a charade; puzzles in all their forms fascinated her.

  After a happy wander, they came to the rose beds in the middle of the maze. Heavy blossoms still bobbed on their canes in a dwindling palette of pinks, reds, and whites.

  “Oh! How beautiful!” Miss Dunkirk dashed to the nearest rosebush and inhaled the subtle perfume. “One imagines lovers from one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels walking through these flowers and declaring their love and undying passion.”

  “It is hard for me to imagine that! My memories are of hiding from our governess here.”

  “Did you truly hide? I would have imagined that you were a dutiful pupil.”

  “I was, for the most part, but for a period of several months our governess was quite taken with dosing us with the vilest tonic you can imagine. I hid whenever it was time for the tonic, hoping that this time, I would get away, but she always found me in the end. So now, every turn makes me think of the secret passages and running from tonics.”

  Miss Dunkirk’s face lit with delight. “Are there secret passages?”

  “Not formally, but there were places where a shrub is missing and tree branches were trained to cover the gap.” Jane laughed as old memories came trooping back. “I had quite forgotten how I used to frustrate Henry—Captain Livingston, now—when he stayed with his aunt. Lady FitzCameron would let him come to play with us, but his idea of playing involved chasing us with snakes or toads.”

  “Did he! I cannot imagine him being so awful.” Miss Dunkirk clapped her hands and leaned closer, her face shining with merriment. “Oh, do tell me. What was he like as a boy?”

  “A scoundrel. I suppose all little boys are, but he was the only one close to our age at the time. Nothing delighted him more than making us shriek. So I would run into the maze and hide while he looked everywhere for me. It was easy, for a small girl could slip through the gaps. The hardest thing was controlling my laughter as he ran past me. I have not thought to cut through the hedge in years, and it is likely that I am no longer small enough to do so.” She touched the petals of a rose, thinking of her father’s request that she wear roses, and then of the ball, where she would gladly have slipped through the walls. “I think I prefer your imaginings to my memories. This should be a place for lovers.”

  “Mr. Vincent would like it, I think. It is so hard to tell what he likes and does not like, but I think that he is fond of seclusion, so a hidden garden would appeal to him. Do you not think so?”

  “Perhaps. I know very little of him.” Jane winced, remembering the tableau vivant on the hill. “I am afraid that he does not care for me.”

  “Oh, but that’s not true! He likes you very much.”

  Surprized, Jane said, “Does he? It does not seem so to me. What has he said to make you think that he does?”

  “I said th
at you were very talented, and he didn’t say that you weren’t—which might not seem like much to you, but to one who knows him, it is clear that he agreed, or he would have said otherwise. Oh, he is very droll like that. A look or a glance will be all he will allow of his thoughts, but to one who knows him, it is as if he had said a volume.”

  Jane wondered that Miss Dunkirk would boast so of knowing him, almost as if they had the intimacy of family. “I must bow to your judgment, since I know so little of the man and you study with him.”

  “He is such a wonderful teacher. Truly he is. Though I wish I had half the talent that you do.” Miss Dunkirk sighed and sat on the bench in the middle of the roses. “He is like my brother: They both think that the arts are the highest accomplishments and think little of people without those skills.”

  A small hope flared in Jane’s breast that Mr. Dunkirk might learn of Melody’s deficiency in the matter of the arts, but she quashed it as ruthlessly as she could. Though she felt she would have been justified in exposing Melody after her trick the day before, Jane would not—she could not—bring herself to be anything less than virtuous with regards to Mr. Dunkirk if she had any hope of gaining his—

  Jane reined in her thought there. No. She had no hope of that. She must remember herself and not be tempted by the idle thoughts of Mr. Dunkirk’s sister, who was, after all, very young and given to fancies.

  “Now, I know you have spoken falsely, for your brother holds you in high regard.”

  “Well, he is bound to! Mr. Vincent is not, but I begin to think that he likes me a little, because he is not so cross as when he first came. I have seen him once or twice almost smile at me when I did something right.”

  “Ah. ‘Almost smiles’ are indeed something worth working for.”

  “You may teaze me, but Mr. Vincent’s praise is more valuable for being rare.” Miss Dunkirk’s gaze turned inward, and her countenance darkened. “Teachers with quick praise are not to be trusted.”

  Jane regarded her, wondering again what her history was that gave her periods of such darkness. These moods had become rarer as she and Miss Dunkirk had gotten to know each other, but some chance word or turn of phrase would still cast her spirits down from time to time. Jane wanted to bring her back to her former laughing self, so she said, “I have always thought that the least trustworthy teachers were the ones with tonics.”

  A laugh broke out of Miss Dunkirk, restoring gaiety to her face. “I thank the heavens I have never had a tutor with tonics.”

  At that point, Mr. Dunkirk and Melody finally reached the center of the maze. “There you are. We have been hearing your laughter, but could not find you. At least, I could not. I am certain that Miss Melody knew her way through the maze precisely.”

  “It does not do to go too quickly to the heart, Mr. Dunkirk,” Melody said, her gaze cast downward, looking out from under her eyelashes at him. “I knew you would find your way sooner or later.”

  Oblivious to Melody’s flirtation, Miss Dunkirk hurried at once to her brother’s side. “Oh, Edmund. You must build a shrubbery at Robinsford Abbey with a maze in it. I can think of nothing more charming. Say you will. Do, say you will.”

  He ruffled Miss Dunkirk’s hair fondly, as if she were still a little child. “And where does this desire come from? I cannot think of hearing you express a preference for mazes before now.”

  “It is only that it is so charming and romantic. Well, Miss Ellsworth doesn’t think it is, but I do. Say you will build one.”

  “Oh?” He ignored her renewed entreaty and arched an eyebrow at Jane, who had remained at the bench when they entered. “And what is your opinion of mazes?”

  Between Jane and Miss Dunkirk they related the tale of the governess with the tonic. Melody joined in the recital with details which Jane had quite forgotten. As the group made their way out of the maze, Jane gradually faded to the back of the conversation. Melody sparkled and laughed, holding the attention of the Dunkirks with her charm. So Jane, who had not the heart to listen, was the first to see the man exiting their house.

  To her surprize, Mr. Vincent had come to call.

  Ten

  The Broken Bridge

  Upon seeing them, Mr. Vincent looked as though he would like to vanish, either into the house or under one of his charms, but after a moment he greeted Miss Dunkirk with more cordiality than Jane would have suspected him capable, and offered only slightly less to the rest of the party.

  Miss Dunkirk wanted to shew him the maze at once, but her brother suggested that perhaps Mr. Vincent had come for some purpose and that they should let him communicate that first. At that, Mr. Vincent stammered and rubbed at the ground with his boot and looked so ill at ease that Jane suggested that they retire to the drawing room, thinking that it might give him some time to gather his wits. It seemed apparent that her judgment was entirely correct in that by the time they reached the drawing room, he had returned to his usual taciturn self.

  Once they had seated themselves and Jane had rung for some refreshments, Mr. Vincent seemed to gather his strength. He said, “Lady FitzCameron sent me. She thought I might amuse Miss Melody in her convalescence.” He left unsaid the rest of his thought, that Melody seemed uninjured and that his trip was to no purpose.

  “How kind, Mr. Vincent! I am quite well, as you see, but I do appreciate Lady FitzCameron’s generous attention.” Melody’s warmth was too much for Jane to bear, knowing how much of the attention was due to a deliberate falsehood.

  “If you will excuse me,” Jane said, “I should check on our mother. She was not well this morning and I have been too long away.” As she let herself out of the room, she reflected that her own words, while strictly true, were at their heart as much a falsehood as Melody’s. Though Mrs. Ellsworth had been unwell that morning, Jane had no real concern for her well-being. She simply needed to be away so that she did not have to bear witness to the fruits of her sister’s behaviour.

  She went upstairs to her mother’s rooms and spent a quarter hour helping Mrs. Ellsworth with the arrangement of her pillows—which were not fluffed enough and then were lofted too high, and with the blankets, which were too hot and then too cold—when she heard the front door close.

  “Who do you suppose that is?” Mrs. Ellsworth queried.

  “I am sure I do not know. It might be the Dunkirks departing, or Mr. Vincent.”

  “Well, go at once and look. My nerves cannot abide not knowing.”

  Jane went to the window and, seeing the figures on horseback ride down the front and sweep back to Robinsford Abbey said, “It was Mr. and Miss Dunkirk on their way to Robinsford Abbey.” Which meant that Melody was now alone with Mr. Vincent. Well, Jane need not rescue Melody from that quarter: he may torture her with silence and his brusque nature, but he would not do anything to inspire any real danger of impropriety from Melody. So Jane stayed by her mother’s side adjusting all the small comforts needed to ease her fretting. She had just begun to read to her from William Meinhold’s Sidonia the Sorceress: The Supposed Destroyer of the Whole Reigning Ducal House of Pomerania when the distant sound of the front door opening and shutting interrupted her recital.

  “Who is that?” Mrs. Ellsworth demanded.

  “Mr. Vincent departing, I should expect,” Jane said.

  Her mother plucked at the blanket fretfully and craned her neck toward the window as though by artful twisting of her head she might see out it. Jane put aside the book without waiting for her mother to ask a second time. She looked out the window, fully expecting that Mr. Vincent would be striding across the lawn, but saw no one.

  “Well?” her mother demanded querulously from the bed. “Who is it? Was it Mr. Vincent?”

  “No. Someone must have arrived, but I do not know who it could be.” Jane returned to her book, intent on resuming where she had left off, with Sidonia in danger from a bear, but her mother was not willing to let the matter rest.

  “Oh, I do hope it is not Lady FitzCameron. Perhaps I should pre
pare myself in case it is. It would not do to receive her in bed. Now, if it were Mrs. Marchand, it would be quite a different story because Joy is always so generous and so understanding of my neuralgia. She would be quite, quite willing to see me in the state that I am in, especially after the fright over poor Melody.”

  “First, Mother, I am certain that it is not Lady FitzCameron, for her carriage is not at the door. Second, you have no reason to be still afraid for poor Melody, as we went for a walk in the shrubbery this morning and she gave every sign of having affected a full recovery.”

  “Oh! I do wish I had been consulted. I would have told her not to go walking under any circumstances. A fall such as hers can have grave consequences later, without any warning. Mark my words, she will be plagued with health troubles for the rest of her life.”

  Jane feared that was true, though not for the reasons put forward by her mother. She had a vision of Melody becoming an invalid like Mrs. Ellsworth, for the purpose of the attention it brought to her. She wondered if that was how her mother’s case had begun, and if Mrs. Ellsworth knew any longer what her real aches were and which were imagined. Melody’s moans of pain had seemed genuine enough. Still, Jane reassured her mother on Melody’s general good health as best she could and then asked if she should continue reading Sidonia the Sorceress.

  “Oh no! I should not be able to concentrate without knowing who is belowstairs. Pray, do go and see who has come. If it is a person of consequence, I should pay my respects.”

  Jane could have told her mother that if it had been a person of consequence, Nancy would have brought his or her card up straightaway, but she knew that to argue would only prolong the moment when she went to quiet her mother’s unease. “Of course. I will be happy to check for you.”