by Abby Ayles
And then he was home.
Hardwicke Hall rose before him, a familiar sight that he had not realized he had been badly longing for before he saw it again. Then he felt a great rush of happiness within his chest at the fact that he was home – a swelling of feeling that went deeply through him and buoyed him up so light that he may as well have floated out of the coach.
To be home again – what a wonderful feeling it was.
He had scarcely disembarked from the coach, with a clatter into the gravel of the driveway, when Jenkins rushed out to greet him.
“My lord, the Earl has been waiting most anxiously for you,” he managed, in-between gasps for breath. The man really was getting quite elderly and had no business in running around like that.
“What of Lady Kelt? And the baby?” Christopher burst out.
It had been a challenge for his tongue to get used to calling her that – since he had known her for so long in their first acquaintance as simply a governess – but somehow, even in his excitement, it had at last held.
“Both fine and healthy,” Jenkins said. “A daughter is born. They await your company upstairs in the master bedroom.”
Christopher thanked him and rushed away, eager to see his newborn niece, leaving Jenkins to deal with both the driver and his luggage.
He ran up the stairs two at a time, barely pausing to notice several changes in the entrance hall since his last visit: new greenery, and a few small pieces of furniture he did not recognize. Joanna’s influence on the place grew day by day.
As he rounded the top of the stairs and made for the far end of the corridor, he could hear voices he recognized from an open door.
The sound alone made his heart near fit to burst in his chest, and when he skidded to a stop in the doorway and took in the scene before him, he was not strong enough to prevent the gathering of tears in his eyes.
Joanna lay in the bed, her hair down around her shoulders and loose. She looked more informal than he had ever seen her, and she was flushed with a kind of joyous exhaustion. In her arms was cradled a small package of fine fabric, wrapped over and around so that only a tiny pink face peeked out, for now gently sleeping.
Beside her, Edmund was half-sitting on the bed, an arm protectively crooked over and around his wife and their new daughter. Patience and Amy, their younger sisters, were settled on chairs at Joanna’s side of the bed, both of them peering with joy and wonder at that same small bundle.
That was, until they saw who it was that had arrived. Then they shouted his name and rushed towards him with abandon, Patience throwing her arms around his shoulders while Amy captured his waist. She had grown a few inches since he was last home, a fact which he took in dimly amongst all the other sensations that assaulted him.
“Congratulations, brother,” Christopher said, his voice choked. He grinned and nodded to Joanna. “Sister.”
She smiled warmly at his inclusion of her in their family. "Thank you, Uncle Christopher.”
The use of his newly-earned title sent such a flush of warmth through him that he could do nothing but smile dumbly, knowing he must look the absolute picture of a senseless man.
“I am glad you were able to join us,” Edmund said, getting up and going over to shake Christopher’s hand. “Our little family is almost complete.”
“Almost,” Christopher agreed, looking around. “Samuel is still away at school?”
“Yes. It’s such a long journey, we thought it wouldn’t be right to pull him out now. He has missed so much already. They will soon be on a break, at which time he will return home anyway.”
Their younger brother was at boarding school again at last, after a long recovery from an almost-deadly illness had kept him away. Christopher knew that Samuel would be disappointed to miss out on this moment, but he had dreamed for so long of joining the other boys at school – he would be loath to leave them.
“Oh, Christopher,” Joanna said, smiling and beckoning him closer. “We are so happy to see you. We had wondered if you would come.”
“Why would I not?” Christopher flashed her a grin. “Miss out on this? A thousand horses and all the Frenchmen in France could not keep me away.”
Everyone laughed at his choice of expression as he moved closer, taking what had been Patience’s seat in order to see the baby properly.
“We are naming her Elizabeth, after Mother,” Edmund said, a multitude of emotions clogging his throat.
Christopher only glanced up and nodded, too overcome with emotions on his own side to give a response. It was a beautiful and fitting tribute.
They spent some hours huddled together, a family again, all murmuring in delight over the newest addition to their group. They even laughed when little Elizabeth woke and cried as loudly as she could, signaling the exit of everyone else so that Joanna could feed the hungry baby.
Downstairs, in the sitting room, Christopher was able to draw Edmund aside as he poured them each a brandy.
“Brother, I have need of your help and advice,” he admitted. “I have got myself into a situation that I would rather be without… But since I am in it, I have to decide in which direction to move forward.”
Edmund tilted his head and gave him a serious look. “I will listen,” he said.
There must have been some recognition in him of Christopher’s solemn nature – a true rarity – for he did not attempt to put the conversation off or make light of it. He steered Christopher to a corner by the fireplace instead, away from where the girls giggled together, and allowed him to talk.
And Christopher talked. From the moment he opened his mouth, he spilled out all of the details: his intermittent romance with Juliana, and how she had given him to believe at last that she wanted him above all others.
His desperate need to impress the family, and how he had been turned away from their home in Bath.
His plan to become a Captain, and how Jasper had come up with an idea to make it happen.
To his credit, Edmund did not interrupt or make any sound of disgust as Christopher laid out the details. He frowned in concentration as he listened, but that was all.
Christopher explained the cold feet he had got even as they carried out the plan, and how he had known it was wrong – but Jasper had talked him round. He told him how he had decided to come clean to the Major, only to find Jasper there, claiming the captaincy for himself.
And he confessed how he worried, now, that he would never have the opportunity to be good enough for Juliana. That his association with Jasper had cost him his reputation for no gain. How he had no idea what to do next, or which course of action would benefit him the most.
Edmund listened to it all, and then paused and looked to the fire as he digested it all.
“You know the answer yourself, Christopher,” he said at last.
“I do?” Christopher asked. He was almost indignant – hadn’t he come here to ask these questions? Why should he have done so if he already knew what the answer would be?
“Of course you do. You have said it all yourself in the course of your explanation.”
Christopher thought about that for a moment.
“You told me that you see, now, how Jasper was never your friend in truth,” Edmund went on. “You told me how awful you felt about Captain Brazen’s resignation, and that you had wanted to undo it as soon as it was achieved. What has changed since then?”
Christopher considered it. The only change had been Jasper’s promotion – and since Jasper was not his friend, that meant nothing to him. And if it meant nothing to him…
“Nothing has changed,” he said, earning a nod from Edmund.
“Then you know what is the right thing to do on your return,” Edmund said.
Christopher looked him in the eye and nodded firmly.
At last, he did know.
“But you will not be rushing off immediately, I hope?” Edmund asked, clapping him on the shoulder. “I am enjoying having my brother home. You will stay with us for a we
ek, perhaps?”
“I will,” Christopher agreed, feeling as though he was exactly where he was supposed to be at that moment.
And while he felt the urgency of returning to his barracks to do what needed to be done, he also knew that he was in such a fragile state of mind that some time at home was needed if he was to summon the courage required.
Chapter 21
“Mary, you should wear your hair like Lady Wester did last month in Bath,” Juliana said eagerly. “It would suit you to no end. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, but I do not know how it was done,” Mary protested. “Do you think the maids will know it?”
“I will describe it to them,” Juliana said, beckoning over one of the many denizens of Lady Ascot’s personal army, who had been laying out their dresses.
It was a few hours to go before they would need to bundle into the Baroness’ carriage to head out to the ball, but Mary and Juliana were already so giddy with excitement that they could barely contain themselves.
The preceding days had been so dull, filled with nothing but long walks and the Baroness’ intonations on every area of life that insulted her.
Mary, however, had something of a glow about her cheeks; Juliana commented on how the country air seemed to be doing her a world of good, and Mary could not help but agree.
Their new dresses were resplendent, and already Juliana could picture what a scene they would make when they entered into the ballroom.
“Do you think she has it, Juliana?” Mary asked. “I cannot see the back.”
Juliana rose and walked over to stand behind her friend, examining the elaborate hairstyle that the maid had created.
“Yes, I dare say she has captured it correctly. You look marvelous, Mary. Tell me, how are you so excited about the ball tonight? You normally chide me for being too girlish.”
Mary blushed, deepening Juliana’s suspicions further. “Well, I have been without entertainment for so long,” she stammered.
“Besides, I do see that it is past time I attract myself a husband. I have had no great romance like yours with Christopher. I must get started if I am to avoid becoming an old maid.”
Juliana snorted. “You are not yet at risk of that,” she asserted.
“You have had one engagement and two promises thereof already,” Mary reminded her with a sigh. “I have not been so much as courted.”
“All nonsense,” Juliana told her. “You are quite the eligible young lady, and you will get your betrothal, I assure you of that. Just because I have received more does not mean you are unpopular yourself. I think I am something of an unusual case, anyway.”
“How so?”
Juliana smirked. “Because my mother has the unusual convincing power to align almost anyone she wishes with my hand.
“Remember that only one of those attempts is of any interest to me at all, and the others are motivated by the joining of great families rather than love or affection.”
“Most marriages are not made from love or affection,” Mary said quietly, staring at her own reflection in the glass.
“Still, I do wish to look as good as I may. If I attract the attention of a lord, perhaps I can then have the opportunity to explain to him all the connections of my family and how they may be of use to him.”
Juliana leaned over and planted an affectionate kiss on Mary’s forehead.
“My dear Mary,” she said. “If sweetness were the only thing on a man’s mind, you would be the most eligible woman in all the land, and you would have to fight them away from your door.”
“And what of yourself?” Mary asked, her eyes crinkling with a laugh.
“I should be at the back of the room on my own, wondering idly when one of those dullards would notice me,” Juliana laughed.
Their preparations done, the two girls descended the stairs at last and joined John Woode, who was waiting for them in the grand entrance hall.
“My ladies,” he said, looking at them with something akin to awe.
“I must thank you again for my new gown, my lord,” Mary said shyly.
“It suits you mighty well,” John said, flushing a little and tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Shall we get into the carriage?”
The Baroness had set out one of their most decorative carriages to pull them to the ball. It was an ornate affair, in black but painted large with the family crest on either side, so that the doors opened out through the middle of it.
It was pulled by six fine grey horses, which were dressed in their own livery of finely-treated leather harnesses and plumed bridles.
Lady Easterby, who was John’s married aunt and therefore an eminently suitable chaperone, was already seated inside. It seemed the carriage had gone first to fetch her from her neighboring estate before coming to them.
She was an older woman with a stern, sour look so close to that of the Baroness that Juliana almost shuddered.
Juliana had never arrived to a ball in such pomp, and that was a matter for considerable excitement, even if she had no intention or desire of impressing anyone at this particular ball. After all, Christopher was a long way away at his barracks.
It was not long after they arrived, however, that Juliana discovered a reason to not be so excited after all.
“I shall ask for the honor of your first two dances,” John said, seemingly following an elbow to the ribs from his aunt. “If you will permit me, Lady Juliana.”
“Oh – yes,” Juliana said, completely dismayed yet fully understanding that she was not in a position to refuse him. “Of course, cousin.”
“And your last dance, which goes without saying,” John said, with a casual air.
“Naturally,” Juliana agreed, finding it necessary to turn away just then and survey the crowd that even now milled around the space in order to hide her expression from him.
“Until then, I shall engage a few friends in conversation,” John said, smiling amiably and waving at someone who was already within the grand ballroom.
Juliana inclined her head gracefully and waited until he was far out of earshot before turning to Mary with a look of horror.
“Oh! Mary!” she whispered, ensuring that the Baroness could not catch her words. “How dull! How terribly awful!”
Mary gave her a smile, though it was stretched a little thin. “Juliana, it is only dancing.”
“But I had thought this would be a night of fun,” Juliana groaned. “Instead I am to spend all of my time with that old bore.
“Not only that, but this is a clear declaration. Tomorrow it will be long walks on the grounds, I am sure of it. He means to ask me to be his wife before this visit is over.”
“Would it be so terrible?” Mary asked.
There was an earnestness in her gaze, a search for the truth of the matter. Juliana took that gaze and turned it within herself, and found the answer.
“Yes,” she said. “It would. I cannot find myself pledged to another man, and if he asks, I daresay my mother will disown me for refusing him. But – Christopher!”
Mary nodded, and there was a calm understanding in her eyes now that somehow made Juliana feel completely reassured.
“I see,” she said. “Then I will help you, my dear friend. I will ask your cousin John Woode to take the second dance with me instead. Follow me now and we will persuade him.”
Juliana made her way across the ballroom, for once following in Mary’s footsteps. She was so often the one to lead that it was quite an alien feeling.
There was but a brief and simple conversation between them, but it seemed to have the desired effect, for soon John was turning to them both with an expression of deep regret and concern.
“How remiss of me!” he said. “I am in your debt, Lady Mary, for pointing out my mistake without any shred of rebuke. What must you think of me? I am a cad, truly, a cad!”
“Please, do not think so badly of yourself, cousin,” Juliana smiled gently. She hoped that this repeated reminder of their familial relationshi
p might help to put the term ‘wife’ further out of his mind.
“No, I am a scoundrel, a bounder,” John continued, shaking his head in sorrow. “To have allowed our young guest – a beautiful young lady, who should be the talk of any ball – to go without a dance on both her first and her second – oh, what a dastardly man I am!”
“It is soon forgotten,” Mary said, flushing slightly under his praise. “So long, that is, as Lady Juliana will allow me to steal her second dance.”
