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It seemed to Jane, now that she focused on their ages, that Edward had not changed at all. He looked exactly the same, as handsome as ever. His hair was still that wonderful red-gold colour, burnished and full of light even on the dullest of sunless wintry days. His eyes, of an unusual cornflower blue, were still sparkling and full of life, and at six foot four he was an imposing man who appeared much younger than his years. He had kept his lean figure, had not put on weight: in fact, there was not an ounce of extra fat on him.
Rising, Jane walked over to the cheval mirror that stood in a corner, and removed her peignoir, stood naked in front of the looking glass, examining her body appraisingly.
Her breasts were still high, taut, a young woman’s breasts, and her hips were slim, her stomach flat. She was pleased that her figure had not altered very much; because she was of medium height, she had always watched her diet carefully. As a consequence of this, her body was slender, and there was a youthfulness about her appearance. Nonetheless, the age difference between them was unexpectedly troubling her today.
Shaking her head, she turned away from the mirror, endeavouring to laugh at her own silliness. As she slipped into the white chiffon peignoir again, Jane reminded herself that no man could be more giving, loving and attentive than Edward.
The odd bits of gossip she heard about him from time to time actually pleased her, because the gossip was about them and their long friendship, and not about him and other women. The crux of the gossip was that, most miraculously, he was faithful to her.
Sitting down in the chair, she began to apply her usual evening cosmetics. A dusting of light face powder, a hint of pink rouge on her high cheekbones, and red lip rouge on her sensual mouth. She touched her blonde eyelashes with dark mascara, added the merest hint of brown pencil to her blonde eyebrows, and then picked up the comb, ran it through her wavy blonde hair. It was shorter than it had been for years, layers of waves that swept over her head and around her ears. This shorter cut was the latest style, and it suited her, added to her youthfulness.
After putting on silk stockings and underwear, Jane went to the wardrobe and took out a tailored, dark-blue silk dress. It had a V neckline and loose floating sleeves. As finishing touches she added several long ropes of pearls, pearl earrings, a sapphire ring and matching bracelet.
Now stepping into a pair of dark-blue suede court shoes, she hurried out of the bedroom and went down the stairs to the parlour.
A perfectionist at heart, Jane wanted to be certain that everything was in order before Ned arrived to spend the evening with her. She was worried about him because of Young Edward’s illness. Ned was concerned about his little son, who was his heir, and he tended to fuss about him rather a lot. But she fully understood why this was so. Jane knew what a genuinely good father Edward was, devoted to all of his children, who did seem to keep coming along on a regular basis.
Pushing open the mahogany door into the parlour, she smiled to herself. Several of her women friends were extremely curious, incurably nosey about their relationship. They had no compunction about asking her outrageous personal questions, especially about Edward’s wife. They said Elizabeth was mean and selfish, but Jane did not care.
She simply laughed in their faces and told them nothing. What did she care if he slept with Elizabeth from time to time? She was fully aware that most married men who had mistresses also had continuing sexual relationships with their wives. Usually because they had no option.
Being pragmatic by nature, Jane tried not to worry too much about things she could not change. It was a waste of her valuable time. And certainly she had no control over Edward Deravenel, or what he did when he was not with her. She knew he loved her, and he saw her several times a week, frequently even more when he was in London, and she knew how much he enjoyed her companionship. He took pleasure in her quick mind, her wit, and, of course, her knowledge of art.
It was to her that Ned owed his extraordinary collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist paintings. She had spent years searching out the best for him, including Renoirs, Manets, Monets, Gauguins, and Van Goghs.
Her eyes flew around the blue room. She was pleased to see that everything was in its given place. The fire was burning brightly, the softly-shaded lamps were turned on, cushions had been plumped, and the hot-house flowers Ned had sent her earlier were filling the air with the heady scent of summer. Glancing across at the table in the far corner, she noted that the bottle of champagne was already in the silver bucket, with two crystal flutes on a tray next to it.
Well done, Vane, she said to herself, thinking of the former parlour maid, whom she had promoted to be the under-housekeeper. The young woman was doing extremely well and she was pleased about this.
Edward Deravenel always felt an enormous sense of relief when he arrived at Jane’s house. He knew that the moment he walked in the tensions of the day would instantly evaporate, and he would relax, become totally at ease with himself. It had been that way since he had first met her.
They were highly compatible in every way. She gave him pleasure and satisfaction in bed, and delighted him out of it. Intelligent, articulate and full of knowledge about many things, she also had a unique quality about her – a lovely tranquillity surrounded Jane. Not only that, the calm atmosphere and well-ordered household met with his approval. Edward loathed chaos, and insisted on his own homes in London, Kent and Yorkshire being run perfectly.
Even though he had a door key he always rang the bell before inserting the key in the lock and going inside. Usually it was Mrs Longden, the housekeeper, who greeted him, but she was nowhere in sight. It was Jane who hurried forward tonight, a happy smile on her face.
‘Ned, darling!’ she exclaimed, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Oh, goodness, your face is cold. It must have turned chilly.’
He laid his briefcase on a hall bench, brought her into his arms and held her close for a moment. ‘There’s an icy wind all of a sudden,’ he explained, releasing her, struggling out of his coat and scarf.
‘Didn’t Broadbent drive you here?’ she asked, looking up at him quizzically.
‘Yes, but there was an awful lot of traffic tonight, and I got out on the corner. It was easier to walk a few yards into the square, rather than having him struggle through that madness. I sent him off for his supper, and he’ll return in a few hours. By then the traffic will have lessened.’
As he spoke, Edward put his coat, scarf and briefcase in the hall cupboard, and together they crossed the hall, heading in the direction of the parlour.
‘Mrs Longden’s off tonight: it’s her sister’s fiftieth birthday, which I’d totally forgotten about.’
‘Oh, Jane, why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have taken you out to dinner.’
‘That would’ve been nice, Ned, but I know how much you enjoy dining here, and to be frank, so do I. Vane can serve us, and Cook has made some of your favourites – roast chicken, a cottage pie, and she managed to get an excellent smoked salmon from Fortnum and Mason. How does that sound?’
‘You’re making my mouth water,’ he said, laughing, following her into the parlour.
It was Edward’s favourite room in the house, intimate and inviting, decorated in various shades of blue with touches of brilliant yellow throughout. Over the years Jane had collected exquisite decorative objects and all were well displayed, with flair, but it was the art which captivated. Jane had an excellent eye, and the paintings she had bought over the years, as well as those which Edward had given her, were superb. They enhanced the parlour, gave it even greater beauty.
Jane hurried across the floor to the circular table in the corner, and picked up the bottle of champagne. ‘Would you like a glass of your favourite Krug?’ she asked, turning, smiling at him. ‘I think I will.’
‘Grand idea,’ he responded, going to stand in front of the fire, warming himself, his eyes resting on her as she poured the champagne.
A moment later, as she approached, he suddenly thought of Lily. Almost from the first moment he had met Jane she had reminded him of Lily Overton, who had died so tragically. His darling Lily. For a split second a flicker of sadness clouded his brilliant blue eyes.
Jane, who was particularly observant when it came to Edward Deravenel, saw the sudden shadow on his face, and as she handed him the flute of sparkling wine she asked quietly, ‘Young Edward is all right, isn’t he, Ned?’
‘Oh yes, he’s getting better. Much better. I spoke to the doctor before I left the office, because the boy still has an awful cough, and Leighton told me that’s not unusual with bronchitis. Apparently it lingers. And Young Edward is eating better. Also, my mother tells me he’s finally lost that rather disturbing glazed look.’
‘I’m relieved for you, darling. He’s obviously on the mend, thank goodness.’ Jane retrieved her own glass of champagne and came back to the fireside. She and Edward touched glasses and took a sip, and then she sat down on the sofa close to the fireplace.
Lowering himself on a chair opposite her, Edward remarked, ‘I spoke to Vicky this evening, before I left Deravenels, and I was so pleased to hear that you finally accepted her invitation for tomorrow evening.’
‘I hesitated at first, because I didn’t want to intrude –’
‘How can you say such a thing?’ Edward interjected, sounding surprised. ‘Why would you think you’re intruding? You’re one of my oldest friends … we’ve known each other for ten years.’ He grinned at her. ‘Or had you forgotten how long it’s been?’
‘Of course not. It’s just that … well, you and Will and Vicky go back years –’ Jane broke off, shook her head. ‘I’ve always told you I never want to embarrass you, or be an embarrassment, and you know the reasons why.’
‘I do,’ he replied, an amused smile touching his mouth. ‘I’m a married man and you’re my mistress. However, you must remember, my darling, that Will and his sister are two of my best friends. They are not my wife’s friends. They never have been. They are part of my coterie, shall we call it, not hers. It is you they care about, Jane, not Elizabeth. But let’s not go into all those hatreds now. Let’s get back to the point – I’m happy we’ll be together tomorrow night.’
Jane nodded. ‘I am too. But –’
‘Why have you stopped? Say what you started to say.’
‘Vicky told me Grace Rose will be there.’
‘I know that.’ He burst out laughing when he saw the troubled expression in Jane’s eyes, and shook his head. ‘Darling, do you think she doesn’t know you’re my mistress? Good Lord, of course she does. She’s eighteen and very clever, and very much my daughter … quite sophisticated, not at all naive. You know, Vicky and Stephen have been wonderful parents to her, have brought her up to be a lady, and she’s had an extraordinary education. She’s just lapped up knowledge, and has also become quite the historian. I’m extremely proud of her. Don’t you have any concerns about Grace, my dear. She’s on my side, and she always has been.’
‘Yes, I am being rather silly, aren’t I?’ Jane drank her champagne and began to laugh. ‘It’s been one of those days for me. Being silly.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I suddenly looked at myself in the mirror tonight and decided I looked old. And then I started to think about the difference in our ages. I am ten years older than you, after all, Ned.’
‘You don’t look it! Anyway, you know I’ve always preferred older women. And everyone knows I like blondes best, especially blonde widows.’ He grinned at her. ‘Or divorcees. Ten years is not that much, you know.’
Jane realized it would be better to let this topic fade away, and she smiled and said, ‘I have a surprise for you.’ Putting down her glass of champagne, she went to her desk and returned to the fireside with an envelope, which she handed to Edward.
‘What is it?’ he asked curiously.
‘Something I found for you, if you want to buy it.’
‘Aha! a painting, my Jane! That’s what it is, isn’t it?’
She nodded and sat down, looking at him expectantly.
Edward took the photograph out of the envelope, and stared at it, caught his breath as he took in the unique beauty of the Renoir. It was marvellous, a painting of two young girls aged about sixteen or seventeen. They were wearing identical orange dresses with black fronts and trimming, sitting on a window ledge against a backdrop of blue sky. Both had hair of a burnished red-gold, swept up on top of their heads. Their gaze was directed at a book they were reading.
‘It’s absolutely marvellous!’ he exclaimed, looking across at Jane. ‘Glorious. And the girls remind me of Grace Rose and Bess. Except that these two young ladies look as if they are the same age.’
‘It’s called Les Deux Soeurs. Renoir painted it in 1889. And you’re quite right, they are the same age I think. Look at the skin tones, Ned, the beauty of their faces. It’s an incomparable painting. I fell in love with it when I saw it.’
‘Which gallery has it?’
‘It’s in private hands. It was brought here to London at the outset of the war. For safety, I suppose.’
‘And now the owner wants to sell it?’
‘Apparently. If you are interested I can take you to see it on Friday.’
Edward frowned. ‘I was going to go to Ravenscar that morning. But I’ll tell you what, Janey, I’ll take the late afternoon train instead. We can see the painting in the morning hopefully, and then we’ll have lunch. How does that sound?’
‘That’s perfectly fine. So you do want it, do you?’
‘Of course I do. It’s wonderful. How much is it?’
‘I don’t know. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist it,’ she said, nodding, smiling. ‘I was sure it would remind you of your own little redheads.’
‘It does, and as usual your instincts were right. You second-guessed me perfectly. Thank you, darling. And now I have a surprise for you.’ Rising, he hurried out of the parlour, got his briefcase, opened it and took out a package.
He held this behind his back as he returned, and handed it to her with a bit of a flourish once he stood in front of her.
‘What is it?’ she asked, staring down at the package covered in dark blue wrapping paper and then looking up at him.
‘Open it and see.’
Tearing off the paper, Jane found herself holding a dark blue cardboard box. Lifting off the lid, she saw that the box held a jewellery case made of very dark blue velvet. Once she was holding the case she glanced up at him again, shaking her head. ‘By the looks of this, you’ve been very extravagant again. Oh, Ned, you do spoil me so.’
‘No, I don’t. Open it.’
She did. Her light eyes widened when she saw the lacey bib composed of diamonds interwoven with aquamarines. For a moment she was stunned and gazed at him speechlessly. Finally she said softly, ‘Darling, it’s just … beautiful.’
‘As are you. I was going to get you an emerald brooch or emerald earrings, and then when I saw this I immediately thought of your eyes … they’re the same colour.’ He picked the necklace up, held it in front of her so that it caught and held the light. ‘Look, Jane, your eyes are this colour exactly.’
Edward slipped the necklace in his pocket, took hold of her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘I want you to try it on. Immediately. Now. It won’t work with this dress, so come on, darling, let’s go upstairs. I want to see it on you.’
She made no protest. He hurried her out of the room, up the stairs, and into the bedroom, and he went on swiftly, ‘Take off your dress, Jane. I want you to put this on.’ As he spoke he took the necklace out of his pocket. ‘Hurry up, I can’t wait to see how it looks on you.’
Laughing, she did as he said, and in a second stood in front of him in her underwear.
Circling her, Edward went and stood behind her, put the necklace around her neck, fastened it, and guided her across to the dressing table, pressed her down into the chair. ‘Look at yourself, look how the stones reflect the colour of your eyes.’ She leaned forward, staring at herself in the mirror, and he leaned over her shoulders, regarding her reflection.
He murmured, ‘The necklace is perfection, and so are you.’
Turning her head, she gazed up at him, and her eyes filled. ‘Thank you, thank you for this lovely, lovely gift. I will treasure it forever, Ned.’
‘As I will always treasure you, Jane. Please remember that, especially when you start getting strange ideas, start thinking you’re too old for me.’
In a few long strides he had crossed the bedroom floor. He locked the door, took off his jacket, threw it on a chaise longue, and then as he turned around, walked back to her, he began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I’m now going to prove that you’re not too old, that I still desire you.’
Jane met him in the middle of the floor, her eyes on his. ‘Can you unfasten the necklace, please?’
‘No, I can’t,’ he whispered, and took her in his arms, pulled her closer, so that her cheek rested against his bare chest. ‘I want you to wear it tonight. All night. But I will unfasten this,’ he added; his hands fumbled for the hooks of her bra. ‘Let’s find that bed of ours,’ he said against her hair. ‘It’s a matter of some urgency.’
Jane now saw that he did indeed have a strong need for her, that he wanted her; she shed the rest of her clothes, followed him. He was undressing as quickly as she had. A moment later he took her in his arms, held her tightly. His mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply, passionately, his tongue on hers, his hands sliding down to her breasts. When they broke their long kiss he led her to the side of the bed.
They lay down together, catching their breath. Eventually Edward propped himself up on one elbow, looked down into her face. ‘Jane, my beautiful, beautiful Jane, you’re such a silly girl.’ He lowered his face to hers, added, ‘You’ll never be too old for me …’ Leaving the rest of his sentence unfinished, he kissed her once more.
Edward lay on top of her, pushed his hands under her buttocks and brought her close to him as he entered her. It was the same as it always was with them. Desire and an overwhelming need. Passion. Urgency. They swiftly found their familiar rhythm, clinging to each other as they soared together, filled with ecstasy, and the pure joy of being together, possessing each other so completely and with total abandon.
At one moment Edward stopped abruptly, raised himself up to gaze down at Jane.
She stared back, perplexity crossing her face.
He said with a small smug smile, ‘The aquamarines are indeed the colour of your eyes, especially at a moment like this.’
He lowered himself onto her once more, his face against her neck. ‘Oh, how I love you. Love you, Jane. I’m yours. Just as you are mine. Come now, come to me. Now.’ And she did, calling his name. He echoed her, cried out, sank against her breasts, sighing, ‘Oh Jane, oh Jane.’
They remained joined together for a few minutes. It was Edward who moved first. He took a pillow and placed it against Jane’s chest. ‘The necklace is a little sharp against my skin,’ he told her, his voice low. ‘There, that’s better … with the pillow between us.’
‘I can take it off, darling.’
‘No. I want you to wear it tonight. I know you’ll find a dress that has the right neckline.’
‘I will.’
There was a long silence, a lovely quietness between them that lasted for a while. It was Jane who broke it finally when she suddenly said, ‘What did you do about the dog?’
‘Dog?’ Edward asked, puzzled.
‘Don’t you remember, I suggested you buy a dog for Young Edward. He’s always wanted one, or so you once said, ever since he was very small boy. I told you I thought it would be a lovely Christmas present.’
‘Oh, my God! The dog! I’d forgotten about it. I was going to buy it in Scotland for him … a West Highland terrier, he loves that breed. Damnation!’
‘You can still get one, Ned. At Harrods. They sell dogs.’
‘I’d have to take it with me to Yorkshire. That’s a bit of a nuisance.’
‘I’m sure they’ll send it up for you. In a van.’
‘What a good idea. What on earth would I do without you? I’ll go over there tomorrow morning, and pick one out, arrange for it to be taken up to Ravenscar. Well done, Janey, well done. You’ve saved my bacon again.’ Pushing himself up, he leaned over her, kissed the tip of her nose. ‘This necklace is a bit dangerous,’ he murmured, touching it with one finger, and starting to laugh. ‘I’m surprised I don’t have a raw chest.’
