The only thing she could conclude was that Sarah must have had a difficult time in the past with an unsuitable beau, and Jonathan blamed himself.
Was that why Sarah was so opposed to the idea of marriage? Was she indeed already married and widowed? Or worse still, a fallen woman?
But she had said she would not do anything foolish. And that she had no experience of men. One of his other sisters, then? While he had been away at the war?
Oh, it was just too confusing. The more she got to know about Jonathan, the less she felt she knew him. And the more enthralled she was becoming, for all she knew how unsuitable it was to ever even consider him as a beau.
She settled herself in the carriage and talked of the reading lessons, the weather and various household matters with Sarah, while Jonathan appeared to concentrate on driving carefully through the frozen landscape.
As he drove, Jonathan felt as though a vast weight were crushing his chest. He was astounded at how the grief and pain crept up on him when he least expected it.
One moment he had been looking forward to the reading lessons, even to spending more time with Pamela, though he knew he ought not to be thinking in those terms.
Then he had been reminded of his grim past, and all of the old feelings of anger and the acute sense of loss had almost overwhelmed him. He had so many people to blame, including the ones he still loved and wished to deem blameless.
Thomas Eltham was his best friend. How could he ever reproach him for having gone to war with him? He had done it out of friendship as much as principle, he knew. As had Clifford.
All three heirs to their respective fortunes, they could have stayed home safely to tend to their affairs, and not a soul in the world would have blamed them.
But no. He had insisted he had to see to things personally, and look at all he had lost as a result. The only thing that made that thought bearable was the certain knowledge that he could have lost so much more.
He reminded himself that he had to count his blessings. Even after the five years of sheer hell he had been through, both during the war and then once the three of them had come home, he had not suffered as others had. Thomas himself, even Clifford. They had both been badly injured, whereas he had escaped virtually without a scratch. On his body, at least.
Yet even after all he had been through, he still couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. He had gone to Oxford, visited his friends as often as he could get away to see how they were recuperating, and now had all the duties of a busy parish to keep him occupied. Births, deaths, marriages, visits to the poor and sick, the running of the regular and Sunday schools all kept him busy, yet unfulfilled. Jonathan wondered when he was ever going to have what he deemed a normal life.
Now as he listened to the two women talking about such mundane things as the best way to get red wine stains out of a tablecloth and the price of beef, he realized with a pang that the answer would most likely be never. Not as things stood at the moment. And not unless they ever improved.
Thomas and Sarah had urged him to let go of the past, until Jonathan had insisted he would never speak to them again if they did not relent. He went to the small village on the other side of Bath at least twice weekly to do his duty. He only wished he could do more. And that he considered it a true act of love, rather than a burden.
Burdensome it was, though he tried to shoulder it cheerfully for his friends' sakes. Thomas was the best of men, but his torment over the tragic circumstances of two years before was even greater than his own. Well, it stood to reason. There were all different kinds of love, and degrees of loss. Thomas's terrors for the safety of his addled sister and her child were by no means mere fancies.
Jonathan had thus taken upon himself the role of Jane Eltham's protector, and that of her daughter, little Sophie. There had been an understanding between he and Jane ever since they had understood the concept of marriage. He had never dreamt that she would not wait for him. Never imagined coming home to an insane fiancée carrying another man's child.
Jonathan sighed, recalling Jane as a young girl, so tender and innocent, compared with the increasingly angry woman he went to visit as often as his parish duties would allow.
She was being kept well hidden from the men they feared had conspired against Thomas, but naturally resented her loss of freedom. And was coming to despise him for keeping her there against her will. When she was coherent enough to have one.
Thomas and Jane needed him. He had long ago given up any hope, but he had promised the delightful young lady he had adored since boyhood that he could never love another.
He had not been able to keep his word. As hard as he had struggled, he knew he was falling in love with Pamela Ashton with all the force of a grown man completely enthralled by passion and desire. He longed to just wrap his arms around her waist, bury his head against her pillowing bosom, and never let her go.