Captain Livingston shook his head. “I think, rather, that the steadying influence of discipline does more to build a level mind.”

“Such as one finds in the service of His Majesty?” Melody said.

“Just so.” Captain Livingston bowed to her.

Jane could hardly credit his behaviour; to shed such disdain on one to whom he was affianced was beyond understanding. She could only suppose that he hid his attachment to Beth behind the mask of he who “doth protest too much.”

“Well, regardless of your feelings,” Jane said, “may I ask you to convey my regards to the Dunkirks?”

Captain Livingston readily agreed, but for some time after his departure, Jane was troubled by a sense of unease. Now that her concern for Mr. Vincent’s health had decreased, the anxiety she had first felt upon overhearing Beth and Captain Livingston was renewed.

She feared what might come from such a secret.

Fourteen

Curiosity Unrequited

With the news of Mr. Vincent’s recovery, the neighbourhood had lost a subject upon which to speculate. Now that it appeared as though he would not die, certain parties returned their attentions to their own health. And so, the morning after Captain Livingston brought word of Mr. Vincent’s improving health, Mrs. Marchand arrived to compare her declining state with Mrs. Ellsworth’s, who received her friend with all the warmth and cordiality which Jane could not. Jane could be civil and pay Mrs. Marchand the attention due to her by position and common courtesy, but knowing that she was about to embark upon a recitation of her ills, Jane could not be warm.

Melody sat in the corner of the room, safely engaged in making a new fringe, the working of which apparently required all of her concentration. That left Jane to be drawn in by the notice of Mrs. Marchand and their mother.

Mrs. Ellsworth started the recitation. “Oh, dear Joy! You would not believe the agony I have suffered. I was very nearly done in by poor Mr. Vincent. I thought my heart would burst. Poor Charles had to take me home straightaway, insensible. Is that not how it was, Jane?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“As to that . . .” Mrs. Marchand sniffed. “As to that, I had to tend to all three of my daughters as well as fight off the trauma of the unhappy event, which nearly oppressed me completely. It is only this morning that I was able to venture from bed, and then only by my deep, deep concern for you. I had heard that you were suffering from chronic neuralgia, that you had been unable to bear either light or sound, so of course I came straightaway, though I had to drag myself from my bed to do so. It was only by a steady exertion of will that I was able to carry my arthritic limbs as far as the door to call for our carriage. I am certain that I do not need to speak to you of the effort. You understand me perfectly well.”