Just Jane by William Lavender Page B

sky. “Eagles. The swamp is their home, and the alligators’ as well. This land belonged to the wild creatures long before it was ours, Jane. We are the interlopers here.” He drew a long sigh. “Clarissa mocks me, calling this my kingdom and all that. She doesn’t love it the way I do. That’s because it reminds her of the one great sadness that has darkened our lives. Our little daughter was taken by the fever in her infancy, years ago.”
    â€œYes, Aunt Harriet told me about that. I’m so sorry, Uncle Robert.”
    â€œBut now that you’re here, Jane—” His wistful smile touched her heart. “Perhaps you’ll be the daughter we always dreamed of having.” Now, at last, he embraced her tenderly. “Welcome, my dear. Welcome home.”
    Â 
    As the long midsummer days passed, Jane settled comfortably into her new life at Rosewall. The only difficulty was that she missed the lively city of Charlestown, missed the Ainsleys and their charming home—and, most of all, missed Mr. Cordwyn. But she could not forget what she had learned about him and Clarissa, and she made a solemn vow never to speak to or even think of him again. Meanwhile, Brandon visited occasionally, providing a welcome diversion, even though he spent most of his time talking to Robert—pardy about “the troubles,” and partly about his favorite topic, horses and racing. Playing the beautiful German harpsichord in the parlor was another pleasant diversion, as was strolling in the garden among the many-scented flowers.
    Mrs. Morley kept insisting to Jane that she disliked living “out in the wilderness,” as she called it. But she got along well with both master and mistress, and though finding Omar a little frightening, she formed an easy relationship with the cheerful Cuba. Soon Mrs. Morley found ways to keep busy: mending clothes, darning socks, and doing other useful chores.
    Despite Clarissa’s observation that Omar and Cuba ran the place, the true ruler was clearly Clarissa herself. She fulfilled her many duties with confident efficiency. Jane was glad for the chance to learn from her, and Clarissa instructed her patiently. But their long hours together produced no real bond between them. And, sadly, it seemed to Jane that her aunt took no pleasure in the privileged life she led—with one exception: She genuinely loved the garden. The cool early mornings nearly always found her out surveying the flower beds, directing her several gardeners to clip a wayward camellia branch here, or pluck away faded azalea blossoms there. A large corner of the garden Clarissa reserved for her dozens of imported rosebushes, and these she tended herself. She allowed Jane to help her, dressed in an old frock and a too-big sun hat that Clarissa no longer used.
    One morning, gazing up at the wall looming above them as they worked, Clarissa fell into a somber mood. “When all is said and done, it really is rather like a prison here, don’t you think?” She smiled at Jane’s shocked look. “Don’t worry. In a few years you’ll marry and leave here, while I . . .” She shrugged and went on working.
    Jane stepped closer. “Rosewall is your home, Aunt Clarissa, not a prison. Your husband seems a fine man, and I’m sure he loves you dearly.”
    â€œIt’s true, I am one of two things Robert loves best in the world. The first is Rosewall, and I’m definitely second. Notice I said
thing
—a lovely ornament at Rosewall. And now you are one, too.”
    â€œIt seems to me that you’re much more than an ornament here,” Jane said as they worked. “I’ve watched you. You’re busy all day long, attending to a thousand details. I only hope I can be of some help to you.”
    â€œOf course you will,” Clarissa said. “And in a few years, there’ll be a fine wedding here. You’ll become the wife of