Derbyshire, United Kingdom
February 1852

That February in Derbyshire was a dreary one. Grey storm clouds nearly always blocked out the sun, depriving the land of its source of life for days on end. The grass, despite being muddied by the rain, remained just as brittle as the people there– stiff, lifeless, and in desperate need of summer.

Jane, especially, felt the oppression of the weather acting to defeat her vitality. Already depressed by the events that had come to pass that January, the death of nature that surrounded her did a great deal to worsen her fallen spirit. Just like the world outside, she felt no warmth in her soul, nor did she see a light at the end of the tunnel. Hopeless, Jane felt like a candle in the darkness, persisting weakly as the winds blew to extinguish her flame. She flickered most when James came to her bedchambers, and each time he did, she knew the wick of her strength grew shorter and shorter. She wondered what it would be like if the darkness should take her entirely.

But Jane's will to live fueled her to go on as she armed herself with the apathy she had determined to bear after consummating her marriage. In the time following that dreadful evening, Jane had improved in blocking James out of her mind during their relations; however, it was no less evident in her demeanor that he was changing her. The little light that had remained in her eyes after losing Harry and her father was now entirely absent, and seldom did a smile ever find its way to her expression. Not even Lorraine, in all her efforts to encourage Jane, could manage to brighten her countenance for even a moment. Jane's desolation consumed her, and as far as she could see, there was no chance of that changing any time soon.

For this, Lorraine felt partially responsible. Had she not urged Jane to go to her husband, the two of them might still enjoy some semblance of pleasantness between them. But what Jane had done was necessary for her own safety, even Jane knew that. However, it did not change that fact that in encouraging Jane to share James's bed, Lorraine had prompted the beginning of Jane's spiral into hopelessness. She had known such despondency more intimately than anyone; thus, Lorraine's heart ached knowing that she had guided the initiation of that same feeling in her niece.

Try as she might to apologize, Lorraine could not begin to truly express her sympathy for Jane's sufferings. Her failure to do so lie not in her inability to communicate her feelings, but rather Jane's refusal to hear her. In her decision to abandon the pain caused by her emotions, Jane had also decided that the less she spoke of it, the easier it would be for her to forget. Therefore, as Lorraine sought to support and take care of her niece, Jane rejected her attempts to speak of anything more than petty gossip or the goings on about the house. At the mention of James's name or even just the simplest inquiries regarding her well-being, Jane would promptly deliver an automated response before changing the subject. It wasn't her desire to live anymore; it was her desire to survive with as little pain as could be allowed.

Nonetheless, Lorraine still felt as if she could help her niece, if not by interacting with her directly, then by making some other effort. It was a long-shot, but after one particular evening during which Jane looked more miserable than Lorraine had ever seen her, Lorraine decided that she would speak with her nephew about his wife. Surely, the rational, caring part of him that had characterized him as a boy was not lost forever. Surely, he would see reason if she were to present it to him.

Jane went with Lorraine to the sitting room after dinner, but after only a few minutes, she excused herself on account of feeling somewhat under the weather.

"If he comes asking for me, tell him I've gone to sleep," Jane wearily instructed her aunt. She had had a long day and was in no state to humor her husband's desires that night. He would need to find liberation elsewhere.

Lorraine nodded, assuring Jane that she would speak to James if he should come looking for her as he usually did. Her niece's eyes were dark and lifeless, her rigid stance doing little to hide the tension within. Quite frankly, she looked as if she might collapse at any moment.

Jane thanked her, seeming relieved.

"Of course, my dear. I hope you sleep well." Lorraine replied with a weak smile before Jane left the room, hugging her torso as she made her way towards the stairs. Her head was pounding, and the ground seemed to sway beneath her. She couldn't remember a time when she had felt more physically drained than she did on that night; thus, she felt no guilt in retiring early. Sleep was calling to her, and she longed to answer it.

Jane's maid Claire awaited her in her chambers, wordlessly helping Jane to undress and prepare for bed. Claire felt for her mistress, as did everyone else in the household. They could all see how Chatsworth House seemed to drain her of what little vitality she had possessed upon moving there, but none knew of anything that could be done to correct her slow decline, nor could they hope to prevent it from accelerating. They blamed their master for the corruption of such a sweet, young girl, for it seemed that among everyone in the house, he was the only one who did not see the ways in which Jane suffered.

Thanking Claire for her kindness, Jane dismissed her for the evening and sat down to her writing table to go through the mail she had received that day. Atop the dark, wooden surface lie a a stack of opened letters, seals broken, but otherwise unanswered. Noticing that one of the seals was still in tact, Jane sighed heavily and took it in her hands. She recognized the symbol pressed into the wax as her grandfather's, though she knew that the words inside would belong to her grandmother.

Using the silver letter-opener to break the seal of her grandmother's correspondence, Jane warily set her eyes upon the swooping words contained upon the parchment. It was much the same as usual, Regina begging to hear news of the family as well as the state of the Hale finances, but this time, a note at the bottom of the page caught Jane's attention.

It seemed that Regina was not too pleased by Jane's silence, nor was she thinking of tolerating it for much longer. There were many things that only Jane could share with her, and if Jane thought to withhold that information, Regina assured her that she would make the journey south and satisfy her many curiosities in person. The idea of having her grandmother there at Chatsworth House made Jane's pulsing headache intensify, and so she decided to do something that she hadn't since coming to live in Derbyshire.

Picking up her pen and starting to write, Jane sat to draft the reply to her grandmother's entreaties. She had no intention of accommodating her, and Jane had a feeling that James would approve of her refusal to do her grandparents' bidding. That was one thing that the two of them had in common: a mutual hatred of the Pelham family, or rather, the patriarch and his conniving accomplice of a wife. For this one commonality between she and her husband, Jane was extraordinarily grateful. As miserable as she was in her marriage, Jane could find some solace in knowing that she would never be tasked with hosting her grandparents unless someone's life was on the line. She was pleased by the fact that her only interactions with them would stem from public social gatherings during the summer.

While Jane wrote a letter that only fed her hatred, James did in fact seek her out after dinner like she assumed he would. Supposing her to still be in his aunt's company, James went to her sitting room, where Lorraine was reading a novel by some contemporary author. She looked up at him as he entered the room, and her features stiffened as if she were displeased to see him. However, James thought little of it, instead focusing on his purposes for coming there. He wanted his wife; thus, he was disappointed to find his aunt sitting alone.

"Where is Jane?" he inquired, not even passing the door frame. He did not intend to entertain his aunt with a particularly long conversation.

Lorraine set her book down, her eyes looking as if to beg him for something, but what that something was, James did not know nor did he care.

"She went to bed already," Lorraine said quietly. "She wasn't feeling well."

Nonsense, James thought to himself. She was probably waiting for him. 

Grunting, James thanked his aunt and turned to leave, but then her voice came to stop him. Pausing, James turned around to see his aunt now walking towards him. A sense of urgency flashed in her eyes, which only confused him more and left him wondering what she possibly could have to say.

"James, you must leave her alone tonight." Lorraine stopped in front of him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. "Please, I beg of you, allow her to rest."

Clenching his jaw, James tried to hide his bewildered expression. Why should his aunt be discussing his own private life so openly?

James jerked his shoulder away from her touch, frowning, "I don't suppose that's any of your business now, is it?" Lorraine frowned and opened her mouth to speak; however, James was quick to interrupt her. "She's my wife; I'll do as I please."

Lorraine's lips settled into a firm line as she took in her nephew's cruel words. Surely, he wasn't serious. The man sounded exactly as his father did so many years before, and that scared her. It also infuriated her. After seeing the way his father treated his mother, how could he not see that he was behaving in the same way? James was blind to who he had become, and he showed no signs of changing his ways now.

"You fool," Lorraine shook her head in disbelief. "Don't you see what you're doing to that poor girl? Surely you can see how unhappy she is."

James was taken aback. "What do you mean? She has everything she could want here; why would she be unhappy?"

"Jane doesn't care about the things you can give her, James. She wants... peace."

Anger flashed in James's eyes, though he made no move to respond. It seemed that Lorraine had struck a nerve within him that he had been subconsciously suppressing for the last several weeks. Jane was unhappy, that he knew, but he refused to allow himself to believe that he was the cause.

Lorraine sighed, seeing the distress in her nephew's expression and finding hope that maybe he would acknowledge the truth of what she was saying to him. She smiled gently, "You can make her happy, dear; you just have to be willing to listen."

This, apparently, proved to be the wrong thing to say.

The muscle across James's jaw tightened momentarily as he clenched his teeth together. If he was angry before, now he was furious. Who was Lorraine to speak to him of his relationship with Jane? She was his wife, and if she had a complaint against him, she should be the one making it, not his aunt.

"Did she ask you to speak with me?" James stared hotly down at Lorraine, whose panicked expression spoke to the truth of her words.

"No, of course not." Lorraine shook her head adamantly. "I just thought–"

"Did she tell you that she was unhappy?"

"No, but–"

"Then I don't see how your accusations have any ground in truth. I would thank you to stay out of marriage in the future; if Jane should wish to speak to me, she can."

Lorraine could see that her efforts were having a far more negative effect than she had hoped for, but still, she was determined not to let him win. James needed to see reason, and Lorraine was determined to help him reach that end.

"James, listen to me." Lorraine's voice was harsh and controlling, very much like the way she used to speak to her son when he would misbehave. Just as it had worked to subdue her son, so too did it subdue her nephew. Surprised by the strength in his aunt's voice, James had no choice but to listen to what she had to say.

"Jane didn't tell me to speak to you, nor did she tell me of her unhappiness, but James, she didn't have to. She's changed since coming here, and not in a good way. I see it in her eyes, don't you– the despair?" James showed no sign of agreeing with her, but that only spurred Lorraine to entreat him further. "I'm worried for her, and you should be too. Like you said, she's your wife, but as her husband you owe her more than what you've been giving her."

Reaching out, Lorraine gently touched James's arm and looked up at him sadly. She knew what she had to say, but she knew that he wouldn't like it in the slightest. He would likely yell at her and get drunk, but Lorraine knew that she had no choice but to try to appeal to him. Otherwise, he might never change, and Jane might be lost to herself forever.

"Please, James." Lorraine spoke softly, looking to him with all the sincerity and well-meaning she could. "Don't be like your father."

James sucked in a sharp breath, and his eyes widened with rage. He did not see things clearly where his father was concerned, and in this case, Lorraine comparing the two of them was just about the most infuriating thing James had ever been told.

For a moment, James had begun to weigh his aunt's words in his mind, supposing that at least some of what she was saying had some truth to it. After all, he could see plainly that Jane was not the same as she had been the summer before, nor even the same as she had been in Newcastle. There was a sullenness to her expression that had replaced the vivacity of her attitude, draining her of that youthful innocence that had once contributed to her serene beauty. Of course, he wasn't to blame for her altered character, but still, the change disheartened him to some degree.

Though he had momentarily become inclined to listen to his aunt, her mention of his father all but invalidated everything she had said to him. How could she say that he was becoming that bastard of a man? Surely, Lorraine knew that he would never hurt a woman in the ways that his father had hurt his mother. The fact that she thought him capable of such violence offended him greatly, and so he decided that he would hear no more of these absurd accusations.

"You go too far, Aunt," James said coldly. "I'm nothing like him, and I certainly never shall be."

With that, James turned away from Lorraine and left her standing alone in the parlor. His heart pounded in his head as he tried to reign in the anger that had begun to consume him, though he knew that the effort was likely wasted. The damage had been done; he hated his father, and as far as he could see, there was nothing that could change that.

Blinded by his hatred, James stalked up the stairs towards his bedroom, though before reaching his door, he paused in front of Jane's. The light still shined from beneath the crack near the floor, which told him that she was still awake. Immediately, he decided he would go to her; he needed distraction, and Jane would be all too willing to give it to him. Hesitating for a moment as his aunt's words flooded back into his memory, telling him to leave Jane alone, James grasped the door handle in spite and pushed the door open. He would not allow Lorraine's ill-informed commentary to alter his decisions; to do so, would be foolish.

When James opened the door, he saw Jane sitting at her writing desk, her head bent over the parchment as she wrote. She was writing rather quickly, which gave him reason to wonder just what she was doing, but as soon as he entered the room, Jane gasped in alarm and turned to see who had joined her.

With her hand clutching her chest, she sighed when her eyes fell upon James standing in the doorway. "Oh, it's you."

James nodded, now curiously uncertain of what he was doing there. Try as he might to resist, Lorraine's words had gotten to him, and now upon seeing Jane in person, he found that he pitied her. The weariness in her countenance did little to support his own ideas about her well-being, but did a great deal to verify his aunt's. He hated to admit it to himself, but Lorraine was right. Jane did not look well at all.

"Oh, um, sorry. I just– I–" James struggled to piece together a coherent reply, as well as an explanation for what he was doing there. He thought he had known exactly what he was going to do, but now he was not so certain. He needed to come up with something though, and he did so quickly and skillfully.

"Lorraine said you were feeling ill. I, uh..." James paused, scratching the back of his neck. "I guess I just wanted to see if you were feeling any better."

A look of surprise overcame Jane's expression, though it was evident to James that she was suspicious of him. He had never expressed any interest in her health, and so really, he knew that she must be confused by his supposed concern.

"Oh, um, yes." Jane's eyes darted down to her lap then back up at him again. "Yes, I feel a little better than earlier." She rose, placing her pen down on the table. "But I really need to sleep; I think. I was just about to go to bed after I finished that letter."

James frowned at Jane's quickness to dismiss him, though he said nothing in reference to it. Instead, he changed the subject to the task she had set for herself. "Who were you writing to?"

"My– I mean– Regina." She waved him off. "It's not important. She just had some questions for me."

"What kind of questions?"

Sighing, Jane shook her head and allowed the slightest of sly smirks to occupy her lips, "None that she deserves to know the answers to."

Amused, James laughed, "So if you didn't answer her questions, what did you say to her in response?"

Jane hesitated, but took up the letter she had just finished writing on the table, as well as the one Regina had just sent her. "You can read them if you'd like," she extended them out to him, which James took as an invitation to near her. As he crossed the room, Jane turned her eyes away from him and nervously added, "I won't send it if you disapprove. I know it could cause you some trouble, but I just couldn't stand her any longer."

James drew back his hand momentarily out of suspicion, but he nonetheless accepted her offering and took the two papers in hand. He was surprised by Jane's apparent disdain for her grandmother, as he thought that she and her grandparents were rather close. He wondered what their interactions really looked like behind closed doors, and he supposed that with Jane's letter, he was about to receive a glimpse of it.

Regina's letter did not surprise him in the least. Her harsh and manipulative tone nearly screamed at him through the uniform handwriting, which prompted him to roll his eyes. Regina had no right to know of the state of their finances, and the fact that she thought she did, irritated him. James was also extraordinarily uncomfortable with Regina's blatant demands to hear of his personal relationship with Jane and whether she was with child yet. He glanced up at Jane when he read that part, and for a moment his felt his heart began to race. He didn't want to be a father, but it occurred to him that the possibility of that happening was unnervingly strong. Slightly on edge, James returned his attention to the paper in his hand and prayed that the contents of Jane's reply would put his mind at ease.

Continuing to read, James reached the end of Regina's letter where she reprimanded Jane for her silence and threatened to make a visit to their home in Derbyshire. Upon that terrifying threat, James frowned and looked up at Jane in disbelief.

"She's not serious, is she?"

Jane sighed from her place at the desk, "I'm afraid so, but don't worry, she won't be coming here any time soon."

James cocked his head to the side, "How do you know?"

"Read what I said in response."

Intrigued by the proud gleam in Jane's eyes, James took Jane's letter in his hand and began to read. It wasn't a particularly long letter, but it most definitely relayed her message rather explicitly. Each line amused him more and more, until he reached the end and laughed aloud. He didn't realize Jane was capable of such blatant rudeness.

"Is that bad?" Jane asked him cautiously. She was surprised when James looked up her, apparently very content with the words she had written.

"Well, I think you might as well signed it, 'Fuck you,' but no, I think what you said is perfectly reasonable."

Jane's cheeks reddened at James's comment, but she was nonetheless pleased that she would be allowed to send her letter. She had always wanted to speak her mind, and now that she was free of her grandmother, she was at liberty to. And it seemed that James didn't mind if she did it.

"I especially liked the part about making her sleep in the barn," James laughed, turning the paper over in his hands, almost as if he were hoping for more writing on the other side. "I'll definitely endorse that if she comes here."

Jane laughed with him, "I appreciate it."

After a few moments, their laughter dwindled and a silence fell over them, during which time James wondered what kind of relationship could have brought on such an extreme reaction from Jane. She didn't just dislike her grandmother; judging by her letter, she hated the woman. He wondered why, and so he decided he would find out.

Wary to interrupt the silence that saturated the room, James reluctantly began his inquiry. "Jane, can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"What happened between you and your grandparents? I thought they idolized you."

Jane scoffed, "For a time they did." James did not miss the biting hatred with which she spoke. "But things have changed, and they're starting to realize that they can't expect loyalty from someone who they betrayed."

"They betrayed you?"

As James asked his question, suddenly Jane seemed to regret saying anything at all. It was as if she were hiding something that she would rather him not know. But James was only further intrigued by Jane's sudden panic and reluctance, and it was clear that what she told him next was not the thing she had in mind it all.

"Not exactly," Jane scrambled to correct herself. "They just– my grandmother treated me very poorly, especially this past year, and I don't think I could ever forgive her for it. My grandfather, too. He's far more devious than people think."

There was a sadness now to Jane's voice that made James once again think to what Lorraine had said about him being the one to blame for Jane's fallen spirits. What Jane was telling him now proved that it wasn't his fault at all; Jane had been suffering long before coming there, so really, there was nothing for him to do to help her now. She was away from her grandparents, but still, she was afflicted by the dreadful memories of her past. James convinced himself that this was the sole reason for her despair.

But then, James thought of what Jane was actually telling him, and he realized that he felt some degree of anger towards Jane's grandparents. It passed a moment later, but still, it was there, encouraging him to defend Jane against the people who had wronged her.

"You should be careful in your dealings with them," Jane added, drawing James out of his somewhat confusing mental discussion. "I know you don't have full control of everything here yet, but you'd best learn not to trust my grandparents."

Regardless of the fact that he already didn't trust the Pelhams, James wanted to hear what Jane had to say about them. After all, she would know much more about them than even he had learned during his time in Newcastle, and one day, the information might be useful.

"How do you mean?"

Jane looked up to him with a coldness in her eyes that he had never seen in her before, and suddenly, he found that maybe she was more jaded than he had originally supposed. There was a controlled rage about her that made him feel uneasy. She was not one to express her displeasure often, but he had a feeling that when she did, he would need to be careful with how he reacted to it.

"Family means nothing to them," Jane told him, and for some reason, James did not doubt her for a second. "They may have married me off to you, but don't think that they're your ally. You're their pawn, and they were intending to use me to move you in whichever way they so desire."

"Were intending? So am I to understand that you've refused them?"

"Is that letter not evidence enough of what little loyalty I hold towards them? As far as I'm concerned, they aren't my family anymore, and I owe them nothing."

James nodded in understanding, though he could not deny that he was most confused by Jane's behavior. He wanted to know what had passed between she and her grandparents that would prompt her to reject them so mercilessly, but he had a feeling that no matter how many times he asked her, she would never reveal to him the truth of their actions against her.

Thus, James let his curiosity shift to why Jane's mood had altered so drastically since he saw her merely hours ago. At dinner, Jane had been forlorn and expressionless, but now it seemed that something had been awoken within her. It was as if anger had pierced through the veil of her misery and ignited a desire within her that James identified as revenge. That was what she was asking for, after all– revenge; she wanted to ensure that her family should never have their way with her again.

James admired her for that. She was unforgiving and determined to execute her will, which reminded him a lot of himself, though such a reminder did little to comfort him. Like himself, Jane's good opinion, once lost, was lost forever, and James could not help but wonder whether her opinion of him was already set.

Once again, Lorraine's words to him that night crept into his psyche, for some reason making him worry about the way Jane perceived him. The thought brought him back to the way Jane had looked at him when he had left for London just before Christmas; he had seen hatred in her eyes that day. That much apparent disdain had been too painful for his pride at the time, but now it worried him that maybe her hatred still lingered. Had he blinded himself to the reality of Jane's feelings for the sake of his own?

"Here," James said, not wanting to think about whether Jane liked him any longer. The possibility that she didn't discouraged him for a reason he could not relay, and so he didn't wish to dwell on it any longer than he already had.

Lowering his eyes, James walked over to Jane's desk and placed the letters down in front of her. "Use my seal if you'd like, that way she'll know we're serious about not letting her stay here."

Jane seemed surprised by his offer, but she nonetheless thanked him with a nervous laugh, "She'll hate that even more. Thank you."

"No problem. Bring it to me tomorrow, and I'll send it for you." James glanced towards the door and shook his head, deciding that he had better leave. Now that he knew of her poor relationship with her grandparents, he found that he pitied her; he would not use her as a distraction as he had intended. Someone else could fill her place just as easily.

"I'll let you rest now," James said. "Good night."

"Good night," Jane replied, watching in confusion as he headed towards the door. Doubtless, she had expected him to make an advance towards her as he usually did when he came to her room, and thus, the conversation between them was probably somewhat disorienting to her.

James left the room, his mind spinning with all the questions that had arisen during his brief encounter with Jane that night. He didn't know what to think about Jane and her family, nor did he know why, for the first time, he was considering her feelings over his own. He didn't want to think about it, though.

Still in need of distraction, but for a much different reason than before, James went away from his wife's bedroom and towards the downstairs, where he would gather his coat and head to town on horseback. He would find distraction in someone else as he used to, and maybe he would be able to rid his mind of Jane and the confusion she had caused him.

•••

Yeeeet finals are over this semester was the worst, but this story got to 25k thank you!!!

-kate💖