by Abby Ayles
They had made one single stop at around noon, and that had been for a scheduled luncheon. In the end, the Baroness had decided that the chosen location, a wayside inn, was not befitting travelers of her status, and so she had ordered them all back to the coach. The innkeeper had sent his young son to wait on them there, with long wooden trays that fitted across their knees to provide them a table of sorts.
It had been perhaps the most uncomfortable meal of Juliana’s life – not just because of the hard seats and her already weary limbs, which had had far too short a time to stretch, but also for her close proximity to the Baroness and John Woode while they ate.
It had been made all the more uncomfortable still when she had the bright idea to voice concerns that this was not, in fact, any better than eating inside the inn. Apparently, the one thing the Baroness disliked above all other things was to have her opinion – which was as good as the word of law for those around her – questioned in any way.
Juliana wondered idly if it was better that she had not discovered this fact until now, or whether she should have been better off arguing with her on purpose in Bath - at which juncture she might never have been invited on this tiresome visit.
At last, the Baroness’ home appeared on the horizon. John became animated, talking of how they would enjoy the grounds and how he would show them to the family graveyard. A choice of activity which Juliana had no concept of why on earth it might have seemed inviting to anyone except a member of the family. Though when she remembered that he intended for her to become a member of said family, the realization was sickeningly clear.
Indeed, there was a little excitement in the air as they approached the manor house, though Juliana told herself it was just pleasure at the concept of being able to stretch her legs once more. She could hardly wait for after supper, when she might be unlaced from the stifling dress which she had worn for the trip. The sun was already low in the sky, so she had hope that she would not have to wait long.
The setting orb cast golden light across the estate as they pulled through the gates, and it lingered the long distance between those and the house. From there, Juliana and Mary, who were the ones sat facing forwards, could see the approach of the building itself, and both were suitably awed by its sheer size.
It loomed in front of them like a great mass of a creature that was set to swallow the landscape whole. It was of a sprawling form, with many different mismatched wings and towers that seemed to have been built at different times. Some parts of the home might have been a hundred or two hundred years old, and others had been built only recently.
“It’s an ongoing project,” John said proudly, seeing the surprise on the girls’ faces. “Each generation of Woodes has added more and more onto the edifice. It stands as a testament to our continued wealth and strength as a family throughout the ages.”
This, Juliana thought, perhaps explained cousin John’s tedious obsession with architecture. At least she had some idea of its origins now, though the thought did not make it any less of a boring topic.
“It does not become you to brag,” the Baroness intoned.
“Yes, Mother,” John said meekly. There was a bravery about his countenance, however, that suggested he was just proud enough of the place where he had grown up to say it again if prompted.
The splendor of the place did not diminish, but rather only increased as they approached closer.
From far away one could only grasp the scale in a theoretical sense. Close up, on the other hand, it was difficult to deny just how high up the towers soared and how far across each wing stretched.
Somewhere in the distance, a number of horses whinnied, and those that pulled the coach gave a response.
It was in some kind of daze that Juliana descended from the coach with John’s hand, the immense impression of the Woode residence still making its mark upon her. She turned to look at Mary, who had a similarly wonderous look on her face.
It was more than either of them had expected.
They made a short supper in the dining hall, and then the Baroness hustled her new charges away in the charge of the housekeeper. The stern old woman looked to be made of similar stuff to her mistress, and she said barely a word as she showed Mary and Juliana to their rooms.
Rooms, plural - for they were not wanting at the Woode residence, and there was no need for them to share.
Alone, Juliana collected her thoughts. She had always imagined her family to be wealthy, and visits to her friends and neighbors – particularly Mary’s home – reinforced this notion strongly. To suddenly find herself in this bastion of wealth, which might as well have been a bank for all the money it likely contained within its walls, was a shock to her entirely.
In truth, it put her in a new place – a place far below the Baroness. It made her gulp a little to think of how she had spoken with her previously, knowing as she did now that the Baroness was perhaps one of the wealthiest women in all of England.
She was used to living like a queen. No wonder that she made proclamations as if she were one.
It did not take them long to settle into the big house, even though Mary and Juliana deliberately scared themselves by staying up in one another’s rooms and telling ghost stories.
In truth, they were a little scared in the first place at being in such a space, since it was of the character that normally appeared in the gothic novels that they liked to read. Adding the ghost stories only gave them a reason to laugh at the fear, if not actually diminishing it.
There were so many servants scuttling about the place that Juliana had still not learned their names after three days of being there, and she was still seeing new faces. It seemed rather excessive, given that only the Baroness and John remained as residents. John explained to them, however, that his sisters and their husbands, and his brothers with their wives, would often stop by to visit.
If she lived in such a house, Juliana had to admit that she would also stop by to visit as regularly as possible – even if it meant facing down the stern Baroness.
She had even forgotten to be bored on the dull walks around the grounds, in which the four of them joined various configurations to discuss topics as various as the weather, the statues, and the formal gardens. Instead, she and Mary were working one another up into a frenzied excitement about the ball.
There was just one thing to be settled before they attended, and that was new dresses – for it was clear that any visitor from the Woode residence would be expected to wear great finery.
“You ladies should visit the local town tomorrow and have some new gowns made up,” John suggested on their third day’s walk. “I will accompany you, along with our housekeeper. She always has errands to run, and will be a fair chaperone for the two of you. I can guide you to a shop that has much store set by it, even though it may be small. All the fashionable ladies in these parts attend it.”
Juliana cooed with delight. Her mother had given her a small allowance for just such a purchase, and she could not wait to spend it.
“Perhaps I will stay at home,” Mary suggested shyly.
Juliana gave her an odd look. “Why ever might you do that? You love ordering new dresses.”
Mary cleared her throat uncomfortably. “This is delicate, but… my parents did not foresee my coming out here when I left home. I was to stay with Juliana only and visit Bath, and the dresses I brought with me were fit enough for that purpose.”
Juliana was crestfallen at the thought that her friend might not be able to enjoy a new gown. For her part, the allowance would not stretch to two. It was a great regret, but she had nothing to offer.
“Fie on that,” John said hotly, earning an outraged tut from the Baroness. “We shall see to it that you have a fine gown for the ball, Lady Mary. You are our guest, and I will not have you feeling out of place.”
“Oh, my – that is far too generous, sir,” Mary cried.
“Nonsense,” John said. His attempt at sternness only made him puffed-up, thoug
h Juliana did like to see him for once taking the lead in any kind of matter. “It is settled. I shall instruct the housekeeper to take a generous purse and ensure that you are catered for properly.”
“It is so kind of you,” Mary said. She seemed almost on the verge of tears, though Juliana could not tell if she was merely acting her part very deftly. “I thank you greatly, sir. And you, my lady, of course.”
The Baroness harrumphed, which was as close to a pleased acknowledgment as any of them could ever hope to get.
So it was that, on the next morning, Juliana and Mary awoke with a strong sense of excitement that had them rushing towards one another and meeting in the hall.
Settling on Juliana’s room as a place to prepare themselves for the day ahead, they chattered gaily, happy to be going out into the town and also at the prospect of new gowns.
There was little in the world that stirred their imagination and their joy quite like the idea of a new gown. There was nothing to be compared to it. Going out to select the fabric, admiring patterns. It was a joy that made their hearts leap into their throats.
It was not just the new gown itself, though that was its own delight: something new to be treasured, to be felt and smoothed and admired in their own time.
No, it was the prospects that the dress embodied. The idea of turning heads at a ball, of having an approach from a young man who was taken enough to wish to dance with them. The compliments one might get from one’s contemporaries, and even from the elder members of the population if the dress was flattering enough.
The sense of pride when one walked into a room in one’s best new dress, feeling for all the world as though you might be wearing the finest garment known to all man!
And even before all that, there was the fun of the selection itself. Juliana liked to judge between choices, until she finally settled on one that had lit up her eyes and become her heart’s firmest desire at that single moment.
Mary was just as excited that day - perhaps even more so, for it was an enjoyable prospect indeed for her to get something new as a gift from her host.
“Oh, Juliana, look at this one,” Mary said, holding up a pale pink chiffon. “It will suit your complexion perfectly. Not to mention it will go well with those ribbons that you like in your hair.”
Mary did not need to say out loud which ribbons they were: Christopher’s ribbons. It was a secret between just the two of them.
“And, Mary! See this here, the blue taffeta. Oh, Mary, you should be absolutely darling in that.”
They giggled and spun through the shop, quite exasperating the stern, chaperoning housekeeper. One might have thought that enjoyment were a crime, judging from the pursing of her lips at every fresh burst of laughter that the girls gave out.
Finally, they had each chosen what they needed for their gowns, and all that remained was for them to be paid for.
“Oh, I feel so guilty,” Mary said, blushing darkly as the housekeeper settled the accounts. “He is not even my cousin, but yours. I am such a nuisance guest.”
“Don’t be silly, Mary,” Juliana tutted. “If he thought it was a nuisance, he would never have offered. You see where they live. Do you truly believe this is any great expense, compared to what they are used to?”
Mary looked at the floor as she fidgeted, one of her feet pushing back and forth across the wooden floors. “I should not think they became as wealthy as all that by spending money wherever they liked,” she said. “Rather, I’d think it more conducive to live a simple life without fripperies.”
“And cousin John cannot possibly think this a frippery,” Juliana said firmly. “For it was his idea all along. No feeling guilty, Mary. I shall be most upset with you if you do.”
Mary managed a smile at that, and then a chuckle. “You are an impossible one, Juliana,” she said. “Threatening me with the guilt of upsetting you if I do not forget my guilt.”
“I am glad that it worked,” Juliana said self-satisfied, leading her back out into the street again where John was already waiting with their carriage.
“Your trip was a successful one?” he inquired, looking between them with a peculiar flush on his face.
“Quite successful,” Juliana agreed, breezing by him to enter the carriage.
“And for you, Lady Mary?” John pressed.
“Indeed, I can only thank you again for your kind offer, sir,” Mary said.
Juliana noted that Mary was blushing madly when she entered the carriage, but said not a word. Nor did she comment when cousin John was so flustered that he almost fell back out of the carriage in his haste to follow her into it.
Chapter 20
Christopher sat in his empty room – which was a small blessing, in light of the reasons for which it was empty – and hastily tugged at the paper of the envelope until it was torn enough to slide the letter out from inside.
He had been waiting for just such a letter, and he had his suspicions that it was one of great importance.
Within the first two lines of Edmund’s hurried scrawl, he knew that he had been right.
Brother,
Forgive my brevity, but I must be quick. I am loath to stay away from my present occupation for long, which is pacing up and down outside Joanna’s room while the midwife attends her!
She will birth our child anon. I am awaiting good news to send after this letter but now I must return. I wish you would come to join us post-haste to share in our celebrations!
Yours,
Edmund Hardwicke
Christopher grinned to himself as he read Edmund’s short note. It was, at least, some good news to enjoy. With so much going wrong in recent weeks, it felt like a blessing from above to hear such tidings at this moment.
It had not been long since his return from his leave to Bath, and normally he would have tried to stay at least a while before cutting out again. After all, he was trying to become a Captain – and if you did not find a commission that was available to buy, the other way to do it was to be recommended highly by other officers who supported your promotion.
But that was before – and now Christopher could not help but feel that there were other, more pressing matters in life. Like that of supporting your family, a family that had already seen great loss, during moments of great happiness.
Christopher began packing immediately, and took leave of his Major – finally getting to have that meeting after all. The man did not appear best pleased, but Christopher swore he would not go on leave again for a long while and that he would display exemplary conduct on his return.
Whether it was his persuasive manner, or whether the Major did not greatly care as to his presence or absence, it was all approved and ratified.
It was a great relief to be on the road again. However uncomfortable the mail coach was, at least it was not connected in any way to the military – and to the things that had befallen him.
His companions for the best part of the journey were an old woman, who clutched desperately at a carpetbag and would not let go; an older Captain, who kept quietly to himself and seemed to be going home for some sort of bad news; and a dog, who had hopped on at the second town they passed through and showed no indication of wishing to get off.
Christopher had no way of knowing whether the dog belonged to the driver, or someone who was riding up front with him, or was just a stray who had cunningly figured out the easiest way to traverse to another location.
The journey was a long one, but it was made short by his happy expectations. His mind drifted as the countryside rolled by, showing old familiar views which he had had to traverse many a time before.
He was thinking about everything that had happened. In particular, everything that had happened with Jasper.
He saw it in his mind like he was remembering a nightmare. Parts were hazy and seemed unreal, while others were all too clear.
It had been over a week, but still he could not shake the total disappointment in himself from his mind. How had he been so stupid?
That one question repeated itself over and over in his head.
But at least he was going to the two people in the world whose honor, opinion, and intelligence he valued above all others.
Edmund and Joanna had time and again given him a model to follow. Too bad that, more often than not, he had ignored both their advice and their example.
All that would change, now. He made a solemn promise to himself not to be made a fool of again.
The miles passed without incident. One by one, the other passengers disappeared, replaced by others or not at all. The dog finally disembarked when Christopher was perhaps an hour from home.
Then he only had to blink and he was in the local village, from where he was able to entice a local driver with the promise of a cash payment - to be received from Jenkins, the family’s elderly butler, upon arrival.
