‘What if he comes for you? Wants to marry you after all?’ Althea asked. She seemed determined to pose all the difficult questions.
‘He will not. I made it clear I did not want to marry him and that if he lent me the money to allow me to set myself up as a portraitist then he did not need to worry about me any further and I would have achieved my ambition.’
Both sisters stared at her, comically alike with their mouths open. ‘You want to do what?’ Violet managed.
‘Be a portrait painter. But I realise that I do not, not really, not as a profession. I want the freedom to paint, yes. I want to be able to practise and improve and I thought I could only do that if I could support myself. But it would be a constant battle to keep a roof over my head and food on the table and how could I paint and learn if I am struggling all the time? I know I should be willing to suffer for my art, but I don’t think my art would be much good if I was suffering.’ She bit her lip. ‘Which is very feeble of me.’
‘It sounds clear-headed and practical in my opinion,’ Althea said briskly. ‘You know yourself, you understand your own strengths and weaknesses. You are not concerned with being famous for your painting, are you? No, I thought not. And—forgive me if I am prying—but I suspect you would wish to be a wife and mother as well as a painter?’
Jane nodded again. ‘I have a friend whose ambition is to be a novelist and to right all the wrongs women labour under, and she has the passion and is single-minded enough to make all the sacrifices necessary for a life like that. And I believe they would be sacrifices, because I suspect that she wants a family and someone to love. She considers men are misguided, but she does not hate them.’
‘Mildred and Arthur would never be happy with a daughter who wanted to stay at home painting portraits in oils,’ Violet said to her sister. ‘They are ambitious for a fine marriage for her—they will be sorely disappointed that this one will not come about and life at home in Dorset will be difficult for Jane.’
‘Impossible to tolerate, I would have thought,’ Althea remarked.
Jane winced. ‘I know. When I was explaining to him that I did not wish to marry him after all I asked Ivo to lend me money so I could establish myself somewhere like Brighton or Harrogate under an assumed name and pay him back as business developed and he agreed. I did not mean it, I knew very clearly that was not the right answer for me, but now, I wonder that he accepted it so easily. Not the idea of the loan, but my attempt to set up in business. He hardly seemed concerned about that at all.’
Which, the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Perhaps he was so befuddled by Daphne’s return and her predicament that he was not thinking clearly, but Ivo had shown no sign of that.
If one leaves aside his love for such an infuriating female in the first place, Jane thought with a burst of irritation.
‘He knows me, that is why he did not appear concerned,’ she said slowly, working it out. The thought gave her a fleeting glow of warmth.
‘Frankly, Lord Kendall’s emotions are the least of my concern at the moment,’ Violet said. ‘You will have a miserable time if you return home to your parents. Would you like to live with me? We get along well, I think, and I have found having a companion most congenial. And, naturally, I am more than happy for you to paint.’
‘Or you can come to me,’ Cousin Althea suggested. ‘Your mama might be calmed a little by the thought of you meeting eligible gentlemen in London.’
‘That is so kind.’ Jane looked from one to the other, at concerned, smiling faces, the warmth in their voices testimony to the genuineness of their offers.
Violet smiled at her sister. ‘We must share Jane, you know, otherwise we will be squabbling over her.
‘If you think I could earn my keep, then that would make me very happy,’ Jane said. ‘I believe I can be of use, if you will allow me.’
Whether she could achieve happiness seemed, just now, improbable, but she could be content, she thought. She would have her painting, her friends would not shun her and her cousins, she hoped, would allow her to make herself useful to them so she would not feel too much of a charity case. Mama and Papa might forgive her eventually and the life of a spinster companion was one that was the lot of many women.
At which point something seemed to break inside, the tether that had kept he
r heartbreak under control, had allowed her to do what must be the right thing with some dignity, some grace. Now the misery had escaped, was choking her. ‘Excuse me. I must...’ Jane fled.
Somehow she managed to be coherent as she asked a footman to direct her to her bedchamber, then she locked the door, fell on the bed and wept.
* * *
Jane had never been prone to crying. It had never seemed to make things better, whatever the cause of the unhappiness. But now she woke, rumpled, too hot and sticky-eyed to find a sort of strange calm had come over her. The misery was still there, but a settled thing now, not the internal storm that had threatened to tear her apart.
She made herself tidy, washed her face in the cold water in the ewer, then rang for the maid who, as she hoped, came with hot water and a message from her cousins.
‘They say they hope you had a good rest, miss, and not to trouble yourself to stir before dinner.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘And that will be another two hours. I’ll unpack while you wash, shall I, Miss Newnham?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Jane blinked at the clock. Was that all the time was? Not yet half past five? She worked it out and realised that she had fled the Meredith house before luncheon and it had taken her only perhaps an hour to reach Cousin Althea’s home. In Kensington Ivo would still be coming to terms with the proof of Daphne’s betrayal and lies. What would he do? What would he be feeling? And he had no one to confide in, he was miles from home.
Her love. Her friend. The man who had protected her and who understood her. And he needed a friend now. She had found her sanctuary and the help of friends, but Ivo was alone.
‘Please find me a fresh chemise and brush the skirts of my walking dress,’ she said to the maid as she jammed hairpins back into place. ‘I have to go out again.’
Her cousins were remarkably calm when Jane erupted into their tranquil drawing room and announced that she must have a cab, now, immediately. ‘I am sorry,’ she said, all fingers and thumbs as she tried to tie her bonnet ribbons. ‘I will come back, although I do not know when. But I simply cannot run away—’
‘Of course not,’ Althea said, ringing for a footman. ‘John, please have the small carriage brought round for Miss Newnham immediately. And I will tell Cook to be prepared to serve dinner for two whenever you and your young man return.’