lookingout 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 himsome 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 toohot 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
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 himsome 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 toohot 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
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