The effort soon made the room seem too warm, so Jane folded her pink shawl and laid it across the back of one of the chairs. Its color brought a pleasing glow to the room. Jane caught the hint in its gentle tone and, remembering Beth’s fondness for the roses of the maze, she created the faintest hint of rose in the air and created a gentle breeze which fanned the room.

With a flush on her cheeks and her breath quickened by the exertion, Jane surveyed the room with satisfaction. It breathed with a life and vitality beyond the simple lines she had sketched; now it was up to her young companion to rise to meet the new mood in the room. Jane spoke, calmly and almost idly, of simple things, and in the course of her conversation, began to elicit responses from Beth. With all the caution of a hawk trainer she drew Beth out, though it was clear enough that the girl was acting somewhat to please Jane. Still, her manner was not as dark as it had been when Jane first arrived.

After relaying an amusing anecdote from her childhood, involving a pumpkin and her mother’s favourite hat, Jane at last provoked a smile. “There. That smile is what I have been missing in these rooms.”

“You are too good to me.”

“Nonsense. I am only as good as you deserve, no more. I’m certain that Melody would tell you that I am not good at all.” Jane tried to laugh, but she had hit too close to her own source of pain. “Did I tell you about running away from Mrs. Marchand with her?”

Beth shook her head, so Jane relayed the tale, provoking another smile. Pleased that she had so much more success with Beth than she ever had with her mother’s melancholy, Jane helped her complete her toilet, promising, as Jane’s governess had always promised her, “You will feel better if you wash your face.”

At that, Beth rewarded her with a small laugh, clearly recognizing it as universal advice from her own governess, but she did as Jane suggested.

When Jane left Beth that afternoon, she had a faint hope that this change in mood might last. Taking the volumes of Gothic tragedies with her, Jane promised to return the next day with books that she hoped would help fill Beth’s mind with more pleasant thoughts than of lost love.

She wished she might find a book that would soothe her own troubled mind as well, but she could think of none that dealt with the matter of secrets and lost loves save for ones which ended in tragedy.

Nineteen

Trust and Distractions

As soon as Jane opened the door, she saw Mr. Dunkirk sitting in a chair opposite it. He started as much as she, and jumped to his feet. Her heart still pounding, Jane placed her finger on her lips and stepped into the hall, pulling the door softly closed behind her.