The Clergyman's Daughter by Jeffries Julia

Author:Jeffries, Julia [Jeffries, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781610848671
Publisher: Belgrave House/Regency Reads
Published: 2014-09-28T22:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 6

“Mrs. Foxe,” Lady Daphne called softly, one white hand snaking out of the library door to capture Jessica’s arm with surprising strength as she passed by in the corridor. “I wonder if I might have a word with you?”

Jessica hesitated, puzzled. Up till now, Raeburn’s fiancée had avoided speaking to her whenever possible, the discreet silence almost a palpable barrier between them. She said uncertainly, “I’m sorry, my lady; perhaps another time. I was just on my way to see my daughter for a few moments before I have to change for the excursion this afternoon.”

Daphne’s mouth thinned, as if she were unused to being opposed. She said curtly, “I’m sure the nurse can attend to the child’s needs for now. It is imperative that we talk, you and I.” She drew Jessica into the musty room that was lighted only by the fire in the grate, and after closing the door firmly behind her, she waved to a chair. “Sit down, please.”

Jessica remained standing. “Lady Daphne,” she protested, “when we return from the woods, it will almost be Lottie’s bedtime. Nowadays the hours I have to spend with my child are extremely limited, and I—”

The other woman interrupted impatiently. “I hardly think a few moments will encroach greatly upon your—your maternal duties. I must speak to you privately. More than once I have sent my maid to request that you call on me, but each time the…person who serves you has said that you were otherwise occupied.” She frowned slightly, obviously amazed at the very idea of such a snub.

Jessica heard that brief but telling pause before she mentioned Willa, and it angered her. How easy judgment was for someone like Daphne, who had never known hunger or privation of any sort, had never been brutalized to satisfy some man’s perverted whim…. Jessica resented the woman’s smug sanctimony, and she could well imagine how Willa, deeply sensitive behind the bland facade of her round face, would have reacted to her imperious summonses. Now that Jessica was busy with household affairs, her hours of privacy in her quarters, especially those fleeting moments when, her friend serving as sentry, she was able to work on her cartoons, were increasingly rare. Raeburn’s surveillance had made the correspondence with Clerkenwell difficult, just as John Mason’s uncanny insight had made her fearful of exposure. The man seemed to be showing an unusual interest in her as a person—were the idea not so ludicrous, she might almost think he was pursuing her—but Jessica avoided him whenever she could and continued to cloister herself behind closed drapes with her battered tin casket and her drawing materials, driven to recklessness by the ever-growing certainty that her days at Renard Chase were numbered.

Surprisingly she now found that her greatest obstacle was the effort necessary to summon up the rage and sense of social injustice that had inspired her pen in the past; instead of vitriolic caricatures, her fingers had a distressing tendency to sketch small, affectionate portraits of the man she loved, portraits she had to kiss and consign to the fire….

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