Joan Wolf by A London Season

ran between the girl and boy was startlingly apparent. It had taken Anne, an outsider, to see what had eluded everyone else. He had wanted David to join their outing so that Jane could contrast John Bellerman, socially acceptable and socially adept, to David, whose role today had resembled that of a servant.
    But Anne had been right; David was too clearly a gentleman for him ever to appear as anything else. And, as he watched David's tall figure effortlessly packing the phaeton, the Marquis thought somewhat grimly that Anne had been right about something else. It was now quite clear to him why Jane was so maddeningly indifferent to young Mr. Bellerman. To someone who was used to looking at David, John Bellerman was very insignificant indeed.
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    Chapter XI
    And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love....
    —William Shakespeare
    The Bellermans left Heathfield to return to Bedfordshire to prepare for the wedding. On the surface the household at Heathfield returned to its normal serenity, but beneath the surface there were hidden currents of stress.
    David was finding it increasingly difficult to act naturally with Jane. Anne had mentioned to him that she planned to take Jane to London for the coming Season, and David knew what that meant. He had listened to too much gossip at race meets not to know that girls went to London to find husbands. Jane, he was quite sure, had no idea of getting married, but her uncle evidently was thinking ahead.
    David knew, in his bones, that Jane would be miserable married to anyone but himself. But they would never let her marry him. Nor was she ready to talk about marriage; she was still too much a child.
    Since there was nothing he could honorably say to her, David said nothing. But he agonized that she would allow herself to be married off without realizing the implications of what marriage meant. And the thought of a future without her appalled him: a vista of empty, meaningless years stretching away in an endless road to nowhere.
    Jane knew there was something bothering David, but she could not get out of him what it was. He would catch her looking at him with a worried, puzzled frown between her brows that made him want to grab her in his arms and kiss it away. She jokingly mentioned John Bellerman a few times; obviously she thought his devotion was ridiculous. It clearly had never occurred to her that young men did feel that way about young women and there would be many more men who would feel that way about herself. David found her denseness alternatingly endearing and exasperating. After all, he kept telling himself, she wouldn't be seventeen until next month.
    Lord Rayleigh was also uneasy about a relationship he had for too long taken for granted. By the time he and Jane left for Bellerman Hall he had pretty well fathomed the state of David's feelings. He had mentioned to Jane, casually, that he expected her to come to London for a visit in the spring. As he had dwelled mainly on the opportunities she would have to see the great art collections of the capital, she had not protested loudly. When the subject came up within David's hearing, however, Lord Rayleigh had seen the sudden rigidity of the boy's back which, along with the spasmodic clenching of his lean hands, had given him away.
    There was one other occasion when David's private emotions, usually kept well in check, were revealed to the observing Marquis. They were out on the heath one morning with five of the horses. Jane was galloping one of the mares while Lord Rayleigh, David, and the two grooms stood lined up to watch. She had lost her ribbon and as she galloped by her hair streamed out behind her like a black silk flag. She pulled the horse up and came toward them, her face brilliant with pleasure, and the Marquis turned momentarily to say something to David. What he saw in that still face struck him to the heart; an underlying desolation