Old Sins Long Shadows by B.D. Hawkey Read Free Book Online Page A

Brockenshaw . Janey’s ink slid across the paper, sweeping elaborately the letters of his name. Somehow the action of writing his name brought him closer to her, forming an intimacy that did not yet exist. She wrote her own name, interlinking the Js like a sign of betrothal. She knew what they were…just silly girlish scribbles by the light of the candle, but as she lay in her bed ready for sleep it helped to calm her and make sense of the growing attentions he had showed her in recent days.
    It had started that sunny afternoon when he greeted and introduce himself formal ly to her, as if she was a lady. At first she was lost for words until his cajoling had made her laugh and any tension was broken. On escorting her back to the servant’s hall he had even kissed her hand. Thank goodness no one had seen. She had watched him walk away, touching the back of her hand to her lips, still feeling her skin tingle at his touch. She hugged the encounter to her breast like a precious secret and would always treasure the moment he had first seemed to notice her.
    The following day she had seen him again . While reading to Lady Brockenshaw he had entered the room looking for a broadsheet. When he saw her he had smiled at her - a smile just for her. A tender smile, a caring smile and she, Lord help her, had smiled back. How forward of her to smile at Lord and Lady Brockenshaw’s son. She should have stood and curtseyed or nodded submissively, but she hadn’t. She had smiled back at him like an equal and his smile had widened.
    Now each time someone entered the room she held her breath in anticipation it would be James . Janey shook her head in disbelief as she realised she thought of him by his Christian name. She must be careful for he had no interest in a servant such as her. Yet, she mused, when he looked at her he made her feel special, beautiful and desirable as though the class difference between them meant nothing.
    Yesterday he had visited his mother in the library and found Janey reading to her . Much to Janey’s horror he had decided to stay and listen. Lady Brockenshaw teased him about his new found interest in the ‘ Sonnets of the heart ,’ but was happy that her son chose to spend his afternoon with her. She had settled back in her chair to listen to Janey’s initial faltering words.
    ‘ Now, now Janey, don’t be put off by James. Poetry does not interest him. Before you finish the first lines, his nose will be buried in a newspaper,’ Lady Brockenshaw had reassured her. She had fondly patted her son’s knee beside her, ‘No offence, James.’
    ‘ None taken, Mother,’ James had replied. He had smiled at Janey, lifting a brow at the book in her lap. He had challenged her to continue. Crossing his legs, he had folded his hands in his lap waiting for her to start again. Janey had cleared her throat and once more began to read. Janey remembered how her soft voice had filled the air and James appeared mesmerized as she read a poem of love. It had seemed to Janey that the printed words transformed on her lips, coming alive as the author had intended them to do. Her audience had listened intently and did not speak again until she had finished, for to do so would have vandalised the beauty of the moment. Janey smiled to herself as she remembered looking up to see James staring at her. Lady Brockenshaw was talking but neither was listening as they looked at one another. He had mouthed the word beautiful and she had silently replied thank you . He had left shortly afterwards and although Janey watched for him he appeared to have left the estate and was not seen again until the following morning.
    Today he had joined her on her afternoon walk with Charlie . He had accidently come across her as she walked along the moor and he had fallen into step beside her. She had asked after his horse, and he had told her of his hopes of buying a new one. He had teased her, flattered her and at one point took her hand to help her