Page 38 of The Favourite

“I was.”

“I don’t know that I believe you.”

“Really?” He sounded thoughtful. “What if I told you my fondest fantasy was tampering with the parapet, so that one day, when taking her morning constitutional, Lady Hervey would plummet to her death into the filthy moat water below?”

“I would not be shocked,” Jane insisted after a momentary pause. “Children often fantasize about such things. As a child, I myself frequently thirsted for revenge.”

“You did?” He sounded startled. “Upon whom?”

“Lots of people, both my uncles in particular. I felt powerless and thwarted in life and my only ally was a beautiful and clever younger sister, who outshone me in every way.”

He was quiet a moment. “Both your uncles? I did not know you had more than one.”

“I have a maternal uncle as well as Sir Phillip,” she answered with a shrug. “He joined my mother’s household when she became a widow.”

“And what did he do to earn Little Jane’s enmity, this uncle of yours?” he asked softly.

“Silly things, petty things, hardly worth mentioning,” she admitted.

“Such as?”

She would never repeat any of these things in the cold light of day, Jane realized. Was it wise to speak of it now? Somehow, it seemed to relieve her feelings. “My Uncle Humphrey told me many times over the years, that I would ne’er make the match my mother did before me; that my manner was too stiff and unyielding for a woman; that I needed to learn to smile more and be more amenable. I used to … imagine confronting him with a dazzling match and crowing about it.” She cleared her throat. “I told you it was foolish.”

“Uncle Humphrey lives still?” Alisander asked casually.

“No, he died some five years ago.”

“A pity.”

“Yes, my mother was always very fond of his companionship.”

“What about your other uncle?”

“You know he still lives,” she pointed out in surprise.

“No, I mean … what did he do to earn your wrath?”

“Oh, he was also dismissive of my abilities,” she said lightly. “He, too, contrasted my prospects unfavorably to Helen’s. He was a good deal more objectionable about it too. Uncle Humphrey was just a buffoon at the end of the day, whereas Uncle Phillip …” She trailed off her words. She did not really want to dwell on her unpleasant, bullying uncle.

“What sort of revenge did you imagine yourself enacting on Sir Phillip?” Alisander asked. When Jane hesitated, she felt his fingers close about her own, where her hand lay on the bed. “Tell me.”

The warmth of his hand on hers made her heart thud. “I—one time, after he was particularly scathing about my performance on the psaltery, I walked behind him the entire length of the long gallery pretending that, when we reached the staircase, I would shove him violently from the top step,” she admitted.

Part of her could not believe she was admitting to such a thing. It was one thing to want to rub one uncle’s nose in a personal triumph, quite another to want to shove another to his death! “Unfortunately, another party was climbing the stairs at the time. My mother, observing my expression, screamed out loud with horror.” Alisander gave a low chuckle. “My ill intent must have plainly shown on my face. Indeed, my sister said afterward that I looked quite murderous.”

“You would make a very poor assassin,” he observed lightly.

“No doubt.” She gave a weak laugh. “Though I never intended to act on it, of course. It was just to relieve my feelings at the time. Afterward, Helen laughed so much over it that she was almost sick. Do you know,” she said slowly, “she never blamed me once for loathing Uncle Philip, even though she was his favorite?”

“Why should she?”

“I don’t know. My mother always said we should be grateful for all he did for us, taking us under his wing.”

“What did your sister say?” His tone was low and soothing; she did not hesitate to answer.

“She advised me to direct my anger into more useful channels, such as my studies, in order to prove him wrong.”

“That was good advice.”