“Of course!” He looked toward Jane. “You’ll lend your aid, certainly, won’t you?”
She could hardly refuse, and she nodded her head. He looked a bit confused at her lack of enthusiasm, but turned back to Miss Bella and said, “The duchess is quite accomplished at organization, having grown up in a houseful of many brothers. With her assistance, I’m certain you’ll do quite well.” He smiled again. “I say, it is good to see you, Miss Bella. I must leave you now, though it pains me to depart good company, but I’ve promised to attend Mr. O’Brien on an estate matter. Do give my best to your father, won’t you, and tell him how very much the duchess and I enjoyed his sermon, Sunday last.”
“Oh, yes, of course I will,” she said, a bit breathlessly. “You are too kind, Your Grace.”
Good heavens, she was in love with him! No wonder she was so hostile toward Jane. A part of her wanted to be sympathetic. Surely unrequited love was a stone about one’s neck, but the greater part of her couldn’t be sympathetic. Those with two faces had always bothered her. MacDougal was such a person, extending a jolly good nature to the world, while harboring a nasty side he kept hidden. Miss Bella was her enemy, she was certain, and her clear hostility toward Jane was alarming.
As she watched her interact with Blixford, a thought took hold, but she dismissed it. No, it couldn’t be. Surely not.
Then he left and Miss Bella returned to her sour expression and blatant dislike of Jane. “When I heard of your marriage, I was beyond shocked. In truth, I couldn’t imagine his grace sullying the ducal position by taking to wife a woman such as yourself. I didn’t wish to pay this call, but I felt it my duty, as a woman of God, to come and attempt to lead you from sin, that upon your death, you’re not doomed to hellfire. Would you pray with me, Jane?”
Upon her death. The thought returned and wouldn’t let go. The look in Miss Bella’s eyes was not one of a rational person. She looked to be a bit mad.
Jane’s memory raced back in time, to the day Annabel died. Miss Bella was there, in the chamber where Annabel labored, praying, reading scripture, sometimes so loudly, the midwife had to shush her. Jane had been overset, of course, Annabel in so much agony, writhing upon the bed. The midwife had commented, several times, that her labor seemed strange, too strong, too painful. Annabel screamed and screamed, and began to bleed. Copious amounts of blood. The midwife was alarmed and said the womb must have ruptured, that Annabel was in grave danger, and if she survived, she would never have another child.
All the while, Miss Bella prayed and read scripture. She didn’t approach the bed, didn’t offer words of comfort. Jane was so young then, with no knowledge of such matters, and extremely hysterical over her friend’s imminent death. In the midst of Annabel’s horrible, agonizing pain, she didn’t find it odd that Miss Bella, who claimed also to be Annabel’s friend, didn’t offer comfort, but instead stood back and read aloud a somber, depressing Psalm. Looking back upon it, she realized it was very strange, that Miss Bella’s demeanor had been cold and uncaring, as though her only duty was to read the Bible and intone long prayers asking God not to save Annabel’s life, but rather to save her soul from the devil.
She looked at Miss Bella, at her expression of hatred, and instinct told her she was correct. The vicar’s daughter must surely have given something to Annabel, and most likely Blixford’s next two brides, to bring on labor, and cause hemorrhaging. Fear crept down her neck and settled in her spine. Remembering Miss Bella’s rude question as to whether she was with child, and her insistence just now upon pouring tea, she glanced at her teacup and praised God she’d only barely sipped it, then said to Miss Bella, “I’d ask that you return to your home and there you may pray all you like.” Rising, she gave the woman a hard look. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t express appreciation for your call, or welcome your return to Eastchase Hall in future.”
“I do not call on you, but upon the duke. He would be dejected and sad if I didn’t come and see him. He has long loved me.”
She was, truly, mad as a hatter. Jane felt nauseous. “I’m sure he does, Miss Bella. This is why he’s taken four wives and none of them you.”
“Oh,” she said with a wave of her hand, “he’ll marry me, eventually. It’s only that he feels he must marry a lady of consequence, and I’m merely the daughter of a vicar. He’ll come round, however, and realize our love cannot be denied, that consequence matters naught when God has fated two to be together.”