Page 80 of An Uncommon Earl

Asher glanced at the window. Rain was still streaming down the glass pane. “When?”

“As soon as the rain stops,” Jane said, recognizing a glimmer of hope shining amid the shambles of her life. If the rain would abate for even an hour, they might be able to make the trip to Bloxley Hall before Alexander returned from London.

Jane had just finished changing into a fresh gown before going to dinner when Aunt Millward arrived at her bedchamber.

“You heard from Lord Bloxley,” she said, the moment she entered the room.

“I did.” Jane reached for the letter that she’d set on the dressing table and handed it to her aunt.

“You wish me to read it?”

“I think it best. Then you will know all that I know.”

It did not take long for Aunt Millward to read Alexander’s update. “Well, that was not what I expected, but it is good news—for the two youngest boys, at least.”

“I cannot think on what happened to Daniel, or I shall weep.”

“It is better to focus on the four boys you and Alexander have saved from a similar fate—and most especially, on how bright Asher’s future can be.”

Jane nodded. With her anxiety over Alexander’s reaction to her letter undiminished, Asher was her anchor. “I hear that Mother has entered her lamenting phase.”

Aunt Millward chuckled and took her arm. “Phoebe must be spreading the news. We are all looking forward to her reluctant acceptance. I imagine it will be here before long.”

They started down the landing toward the stairs.

“I have no way of knowing when Alexander will return to Bloxley Hall,” Jane said, broaching the issue that hovered between them. “It may be some time before he reads my letter.”

“True. But in the meantime, you may take courage from knowing that if he has not yet read it, his silence on the matter means nothing.”

“I beg to differ,” Jane said. “His silence on the matter is torture.”

Aunt Millward gave her a sympathetic look. “Patience, my dear.”

Jane sighed. “Patience and courage are a challenging combination.”

“I daresay you are right, but those who embrace such qualities make the very best of people.”

They entered the dining room to find her parents and Phoebe already there. A fire burned in the fireplace, and candles flickered on each end of the long table, reflecting off the glasses and silverware.

“I am glad you are come, Jane and Bea,” her father said. He escorted her mother to her seat and moved to take the one at the head of the table. “Please be seated.”

Immediately, the footmen went to work, bringing in one delicious dish after another and removing dishes silently and efficiently afterward. Jane managed a few spoonfuls of soup before giving up on that course. Unfortunately, she did no better with the roasted quail.

“You must eat, Jane.” Her mother’s voice startled everyone. Up until then, her father and Aunt Millward had been valiantly maintaining the dinner conversation, with Phoebe interjecting a few brief comments occasionally. No one had expected anything else.

Her mother bristled as all eyes turned on her. “Well, she must,” she said defensively. “I am the only one at this table who can truly appreciate how draining being a mother can be. If she is to care for that young boy as she should, she needs her strength.”

It was grudging acceptance, and Jane wished she could leap from her seat, run around the table, and kiss her mother’s cheek. But quite apart from her own physical restrictions, her mother would be appalled at such a breach of mealtime etiquette.

“You are correct, Mother,” she said. “I shall endeavor to do better.”

Her mother gave a satisfied nod and returned to her meal. Her father and Aunt Millward took the hint and resumed their discussion about the price of tea. Phoebe offered her a conspiratorial smile. Jane reached for a piece of bread and set it on her plate, wondering if there was anything she could do to prevent it from tasting like a slice of chewy wood.

Movement at the doorway distracted Jane from the food on her plate. She looked up to see Alice standing there. The maid’s usually calm, smiling demeanor had been replaced by obvious agitation, and Jane’s empty stomach lurched.

“Is something the matter, Alice?”

Once again, the conversation at the table ceased.