Free Miss Simpkins' School: Jane by Raven McAllan

Chapter One
    A loud and continuous thumping noise echoed throughout the house. It sounded like someone was doing their utmost to break the front door down. Cursing the fact Towse left not five minutes earlier to take a letter to the mail, Molly hurried out of her study and along the corridor. She’d only returned from the country the day before and hadn’t bothered to have all her staff back in position yet. They worked hard and if she promised them a week of no duties, she kept her word. Therefore until the morrow only Towse and her personal maid, Dorothy, were around. Before that moment it had been perfect. She cursed as she missed a stair and had to grab the banister to save herself from a nasty tumble.
    The thumping carried on unabated as she crossed the hall and fumbled with the lock. When she opened the door her visitor just about fell through the gap and slammed the door shut behind her.
    “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. That old tabby, Horatia Gorman, was about to turn into the square and you know what a cat she is. She gets worse by the year, and some young idiots try to emulate her.” The lady shuddered. “’Oh, Jane dear, was that you I saw outside that woman’s house? Why on earth?’” Her mimicry of the lady in question was perfect. “Aghh. One day I’ll say something rude.” She sighed. “Well, no I won’t because I just can’t. Oh, sorry. Perhaps I need to introduce myself?”
    Molly laughed and shook her head. “No need, my lady. I recognize you. But I confess I’m at a loss to understand why you are...ohhh...” She remembered just what had been imparted to her of late.
    “Exactly.” Jane Nicholby grimaced and undid the ties of the large and unflattering hat that had partially covered her face. “The fact that people knew Felix Sotherby was even contemplating asking me for my hand in marriage was bad enough. I personally had no idea. To cap it all, now he has kindly informed me, as a friend, that he will announce his engagement to Miranda Copthorn within days. What is it about men?”
    Molly patted her arm. The information Jane had imparted surprised her. “So there had been no communication between you?” she asked.
    Jane shook her head. “No more than with any other gentleman. A dance at Almacks and a polite conversation or two at a soiree. Nothing that made me think he was contemplating a change in my status. I had thought I’d made it very clear I was not of a mind to alter that. Well, not unless...” She nibbled the finger of a grey glove, and Molly realized how inhospitable she was being.
    “Ah, perhaps we should go into the drawing room, my lady,” Molly suggested. “I’m afraid my staff is not here at the moment, but I do have a fine Madeira handy.”
    “That sounds perfect.” Jane stripped off her gloves and opened her pelisse. “Make it a large one please. And please, if you will, do not keep calling me my lady . My name is Jane and if I don’t hear it on someone’s lips soon, I’ll forget it.”
    “Then Jane follow me. We’ll get cozy and you can explain why you’re here.”
    “Ha, I wonder.” Jane’s voice was gloomy and her countenance showed a degree of strain. “I’m not sure I know myself.”
    Curiouser, and curiouser. However, Molly knew how hard it was for some people to admit they needed help of any sort, let alone with sexual connotations. She opened the door to the snug parlor she used when alone and indicated the soft chair set to one side of the glowing fire. “Let me have your pelisse.” She put the garment over the coat stand she kept tucked in the corner of the room. “That chair is comfortable.” She poured two glasses of Madeira, handed one to Jane, and took the chair opposite. “Now, how can I—or not—help?”
    Jane twirled the glass between her hands and the golden liquid glinted in the firelight. She was silent for several seconds. Strangely, Molly decided the silence was restful, even though she sensed Jane was in turmoil