Nicola Cornick: Miss Verey’s Proposal

Lady Eleanor was still looking confused and deeply reproachful. ‘Alex, you have the cunning of the devil even to think of it!’

‘Thank you, Aunt Eleanor!’ Once again, Alex grinned at her. ‘I confess to a certain curiosity about Miss Jane Verey! It is stimulating to suspect that I may have met an adversary as devious as I!’

‘No, it is impossible! Not that sweet girl!’

‘Well, we shall see!’

‘How do you intend to go about it?’ Lady Eleanor asked with misgiving.

‘I will make inquiries,’ Alex said slowly, ‘and I intend to meet Miss Verey. I will judge for myself if she be innocent angel or cunning jade!’

‘Oh, Jane, is this not fine?’ Sophia sighed in ecstasy. ‘Such beautiful shops! Why, not even Bath can rival it! I declare, I could spend an entire day just looking!’

Jane stifled a yawn. She already felt as though she had spent a whole day doing precisely that. This had to be the twentieth shop that they had visited that afternoon.

When the shopping trip had been mooted after breakfast, Jane’s brother Simon had looked horrified and had taken refuge at his club. Jane wished that she had a similar choice. It was not that she disliked shopping, precisely-she paused to watch her mother and Sophia agonising between two exquisitely painted fans-it was simply that she grew bored with it so very quickly. The silks and taffetas, slippers and shoes, hats and gloves that so fascinated her friend could not hold her attention for long. Now, if only it had been books…Jane smothered a giggle as she remembered the look of pained disapproval on her mother’s face when she had tentatively suggested that they visit James Lackington’s ‘Temple of the Muses’ in Finsbury Square.

‘Temple of the Muses!’ Lady Verey had repeated. ‘Why, it sounds like a house of ill repute rather than a bookseller’s! I cannot believe it a suitable place for us to visit unescorted!’

So Jane had been obliged to enlist her brother’s help to buy the books she wanted and was denied the pleasure of browsing amongst the galleries of bookshelves and of watching the other bibliophiles thronging Mr Lackington’s ‘lounging-rooms.’

Lady Verey and Sophia had moved on to consider a very pretty straw hat adorned with blue ribbons. Jane’s eye was caught briefly by a silky scarf of emerald green, and she moved over to take a closer look, letting it run through her fingers like water. Beyond the wide bow windows, Charles Street was busy with ladies and gentlemen strolling in the sunshine. Across the road was a spirit booth, with crystal flasks of every shape and form, cunningly lit from behind so that the different coloured spirits sparkled alluringly. Jane smiled. Now there was something worthy of her time; glass and china were fascinating commodities and she hoped to visit Mr Wedgwood’s emporium in Great Newport Street, where she had heard that the displays of china were arranged especially to amuse and intrigue the visitor…

There was a gentleman standing across the road just to the left of the spirit booth. His very stillness caught Jane’s notice and, once she had looked up, she found that his intent gaze appeared to be directed through the bow windows of the shop and fixed upon her person. It was oddly disconcerting, not least because she was certain that she had seen him before. He was very tall and very dark, and his penetrating gaze locked with her own. Suddenly it was as though they were only a matter of feet apart, with no glass window between them, nor bustling street, nor indeed any barrier of any kind. Jane found herself unable to look away and break the spell.

His gaze pinned her to the spot, so searching and intent that Jane felt the colour coming up into her cheeks.

Then a dray cart came between them, the carter shouting to his horses and blocking the view, and Jane drew a shaky breath and turned away from the window.

‘Jane?’ Lady Verey had noticed nothing amiss. ‘Come here, my love, and tell us which is the finer of these two shawls. Sophia has a fancy for the pink with the lace, but I am not sure-’ Her eye fell on the scarf, which Jane was still clutching unknowingly in her left hand.

‘Oh, how pretty! You must have it, my love, for it matches your eyes to perfection! What excellent taste you do have, Jane! Now, tell me what you think of this shawl…’

Both the shop assistant and Sophia were looking at her expectantly. Jane obediently looked where her mother pointed but she was scarcely thinking of fripperies and furbelows.

It was him! she thought, still a little breathless inside. I recognised him. I know it was him.

Gradually her fluttering pulse stilled and her breathing slowed. No doubt she had imagined it. One dark stranger might look very like another and London was full of people. It seemed foolish to think that she would recognise one man, glimpsed four years before at Ambergate and never seen again. All the same…

She was still puzzling over it as they came out of the shop and on to the sunlit pavement.

‘Now then, girls,’ Lady Verey said, shepherding them into the street, ‘the milliner’s is just across from here-’

‘Oh, look, ma’am!’ Sophia exclaimed, clutching Lady Verey’s arm. ‘I did not see those gloves! Oh, they would be perfect for tomorrow night! I positively must have them! Jane-’ she turned anxiously to her friend ‘-you do not mind?’

Jane smiled a little. Sophia would be spending all her allowance in one morning at this rate!

‘I shall wait for you out here in the sun,’ she said. ‘It is a pleasant day and there is no need to hurry.’

‘Stay in sight of the window, Jane,’ Lady Verey instructed, turning to follow Sophia into the shop. ‘I wish to keep you in view. And should anyone accost you, I pray you to come straight back into the shop-’

‘Yes, mama,’ Jane said patiently, gesturing to her mother to follow Sophia. ‘I can come to no harm in full view!’

The shop door closed behind Lady Verey and Jane turned to scan the street. Although her acquaintance in London was still small, she recognised the lady and gentleman who were strolling along the opposite side of the road, for they were neighbours of the Vereys in Portman Square and had been most welcoming. And just beyond them…Jane took an involuntary step forward as she saw the dark gentleman again, pausing before a gunsmith’s, his back turned to her.

There was a sudden, irate shout and she spun around in alarm. A cart was passing close by and she felt her skirts snag on something, tugging hard and catching her off balance. She slipped on the cobbles, her skirt hopelessly entangled in the cart’s left wheel, and felt herself dragged to the ground. It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye before Jane could scramble back to safety.

‘Oh!’ It was Jane’s dignity that had suffered most, but tears of shock swam in her eyes. Her hands felt bruised from the sudden contact with the ground and she had bumped one knee painfully as she fell. Tumbled in the gutter in a heap of petticoats and rubbish, she struggled to recover herself.

‘Allow me to help you, ma’am.’ A quiet voice spoke in her ear at the same time as the gentleman slid a supportive hand under her elbow and helped her to her feet. ‘Are you injured at all?’

Jane looked up and experienced her second shock. This time there could be no mistake. It was certainly the man that she had seen at Ambergate, though this time more formally dressed in immaculate buckskins, top-boots and a mulberry-coloured jacket. At such close quarters he was disturbingly attractive, a man quite outside Jane’s limited experience. He was certainly handsome, with wicked, dark good looks that quite took her breath away, but there was a rather austere expression in those very dark eyes that contradicted the impression of slightly rakish attraction. There was also an aura of strength about him and an impression of power held under tight control that was instantly reassuring.