by Abby Ayles
“Walk with me, Juliana,” the Baroness commanded imperiously.
Juliana rose from her position beside Mary, on an easy sofa in the sitting room. She set her embroidery down on a side table – she had not been working with much focus, but merely as a pretext to sit and talk with Mary – and gave a slow incline of her head.
“Yes, my lady,” she said, hurrying after the stern figure who did not spare much time to wait for her.
Out in the hall was a pair of maids, who dressed both women in long capes, gloves, and hats against the chill breeze that was blowing outside.
Juliana wondered privately whether the Baroness walked in all weathers: rain, sleet, snow, and hail. Fortunately, the spring had been a mostly dry one thus far, and Juliana had not had cause to find out. There was a twist in the air this morning, however, and it seemed sure that rain would follow.
Juliana cast her eyes around for John Woode, wondering when he would come out to join them. But the Baroness, in her inimitable way, was already striding headlong for the doors, and the man was nowhere to be seen.
“Lady Ascot,” Juliana called out, almost breathless as she rushed to catch up. “Had we not better wait for cousin John? He is not here yet.”
The Baroness cast a haughty look over her shoulder. The woman may have been far advanced in years, but she still knew how to give a look that would wither any but the hardiest of souls.
“My son does not join us today, Juliana,” she said.
Her mouth was set in a straight line which revealed neither joy nor sadness in this fact, and Juliana could not discern a single reason as to why.
She wrestled with the question inside of herself. Was it really wise to ask why he did not join them? After all, she did not want the woman to turn around and fetch her son to come with them, thinking that Juliana was missing him.
Then on the other hand, at least her step-father might witness this and be pleased, and think that she was doing her duty.
And there was another factor: the idea of walking alone with the Baroness verged on the frightening, and soon Juliana thought it was something that she did not wish to bear.
“Baroness,” she began again, timidly, falling in alongside her now. “Why is cousin John not walking with us today? I ask only because I have become accustomed to his presence.”
“Just because a thing has always been so, does not mean it always will be,” the Baroness said cryptically.
Or perhaps not so cryptic, Juliana thought, trying to fathom some sort of clue from the woman’s face.
Perhaps she was thinking about the fact that as soon as John married, he would be away, seeking his new position. And even if he did not marry soon, he would have to go, for the parish – once found – would not wait.
“Watch the ground where you are walking, girl,” the Baroness tutted. “You have not the good sense to save yourself from falling on your face.”
“Apologies, my lady,” Juliana said hastily, wrenching her eyes back to the front.
The path they walked was mostly a free one, though it was not paved or laid out in gravel. It was simply worn into the grounds by the frequent and habitual pattern that the Baroness walked, and there were many routes laid out in this fashion: some closer to the house, others further away, stretching out amongst the vast grounds of the estate.
Some wove through groves of trees, where twisted roots and fallen twigs across the path provided means of tripping.
Others traversed along the banks of a small lake, where the ground could be slippery underfoot if the water had risen close to the banks or a party had hefted a boat back out of the water after using it.
Others still wended their way across great expanses of grass, where the horses would also ride on occasion, and then it became necessary to keep one’s eye open for traces of manure: the Baroness apparently ordered these left where they stood and not cleared by her servants, since they gave bountiful growth to the grounds that were otherwise churned by hooves.
“I have been thinking about your future, Juliana,” the Baroness announced.
“My future?” Juliana repeated with some surprise, though keeping her voice as mild as she could. The Baroness did not like it when it sounded as though people were questioning her.
“Yes, girl, clean your ears,” the Baroness snapped. “Or do you intend to repeat everything I say like some parrot?”
“Sorry,” Juliana said quickly, then had to admit her ignorance. “What is a parrot, my lady?”
“An exotic bird that the sailors fetch back from time to time,” the Baroness sniffed.
“My sister kept one as a pet. Terrible creature. It would leave its droppings all about her sitting room. It was loud and obnoxious to boot. But parrots are able to learn and mimic our voices.”
“They can speak?” Juliana asked with wonder. “I should like to see such a bird.”
“You shouldn’t,” the Baroness said. “They smell. But this is beside the point, Juliana, and you are distracting me from what I wish to speak about. You are a very flighty girl.”
“Sorry, my lady,” Juliana said, ducking her head and keeping her eyes on the path as she was told.
“I have been thinking about your future,” the Baroness repeated, getting them back to where she had started. “And what kind of plans you think you may have.”
“I have no real plans, my lady,” Juliana hedged.
She had a feeling that she would be chided not for having plans, but also chided if those plans were the wrong ones. Seeing no clear way ahead, she settled for a middle path.
“What are real plans? Are they in opposition to false plans?” the Baroness questioned, her voice sharp in the cool morning air.
“Why would anyone make false plans? Your head is in the clouds as ever. I wonder how you have made it this far in life without drifting off into the sky without how light and empty your head must be.”
Juliana swallowed, and said nothing. There was normally nothing good to come from arguing with the Baroness, particularly when her comments were aimed at one personally.
“What you should have, as a girl of your age, are plans,” the Baroness continued. “Real plans, to use your turn of phrase. You must intend to marry, of course. But the question is what you think you will do after you are married.”
Juliana thought the question over, struggling to decipher what the correct answer might be.
Of course, she couldn’t take too long about it. The Baroness was not patient, and might snap at her for failing to make up her mind.
“I suppose I shall have children,” she ventured.
“Of course you will have children,” the Baroness snapped impatiently. “What use is there of being a wife if you do not intend to bear children?
“My point is where you believe you will be situated. What station in life you will hold. How big your home, and how many servants. How much of the household work you will have to do for yourself. Have these questions not passed through your mind?”
Juliana hesitated again. It was true that in some sense she had considered those problems. In other ways, she had not truly thought it through at all.
With Christopher, what would those answers be? Surely she would not have too large of a home, since they would live only on the Earl’s generosity and some small parcel of her own.
They might have only a small number of servants – perhaps just one or two. A military career did not pay over well, unless Christopher could find himself at a higher rank soon.
And where would they live? Doubtless, close to wherever he was stationed. If he went off to war, what then? Would she follow him, or stay behind?
Would she see him often during the times when he served? Or would there be stretches of months at a time wherein he was confined to the barracks, and she raised their children alone?
The thoughts were troubling; more than she would have liked to admit.
In truth, she had no idea of how to complete the most basic household tasks. How did one light a f
ire, or bake a pie? She had no idea. There had always been someone to do it for her.
And to spend her time alone – that was not part of her vision at all. When she had thought of the future, all she had imagined was herself in Christopher’s arms, or holding balls together as man and wife, or else attending them. She had not considered the day to day realities.
“I can see you are deep in thought,” the Baroness said, if not approvingly then at least not with any hint of rebuke. “You will do well to think deeply on it, and see where your desires show you.”
Juliana thought on it in silence, doing as she had been told but also, she found now, as she needed to.
She had grown up in a state of luxury, with servants to tend her needs and provide for her whims. She had known the freedom of a large estate, even if it was not a patch on the grounds which she now walked. She had ridden her own horses and dressed in new finery each season.
That, perhaps, would all come to an end if she chose to be with Christopher. Even more decidedly so, if the Duke and Duchess decided that she had been disobedient enough to warrant cutting off her dowry and any further allowances.
But even as she knew all of this, Juliana could see that it was nothing – none of it.
To be with Christopher, that was the prize she valued above all else. To be with him, the rest could go hang!
“Well? Have you come to a conclusion?” the Baroness barked.
“I do not know what status I shall have,” Juliana answered honestly. “I do not know where I shall live, or in what level of comfort. I think it will be different from what I am accustomed to, in any case.
“Everything about my life will change, because I will be in a new household with a new family of my own. But I think the most important thing is that I am determined to be happy.”
The Baroness gave her a long look, pausing on the pathway so that Juliana was bound to do the same. For a while, not a word passed between the two women, but Juliana held her ground and met the Baroness’ eyes.
She did not care that she might be dismissed as a silly child, a girl with notions that belied reality. She had heard these sentiments and more from her mother, from the Baroness when she gave her lectures addressed to no one in particular, and in the opinions of those who judged others before her.
But she could not give up on the notion of true love, and happiness. She could not deny the feelings within her breast.
At length, the Baroness gave a single, slow nod, and they commenced walking again, in a silence which had subtly changed and shifted from the one they shared previously.
“There is more I shall say to you,” the Baroness said. “I do not expect that you will answer me with any kind of decision at the present moment.
“What we speak of is theory only, since you have not received a proposal of late and thus have no chance yet to accept or deny one.”
Juliana nodded, saying nothing. She could see the direction in which the Baroness was going.
The advice that followed was to be about John Woode, and the fact that he would indeed propose soon. It was intended to steer her course, without in fact admitting that the proposal had already been arranged.
“Many young women,” the Baroness continued, “have their heads turned by some dashing young gentleman or other. Oft times it is a man who serves: an officer, or a navy man, or some older General who has dedicated the better years of his life to his country but now wishes to settle.
“These young women fare variously. When they choose a man of means, such as the General in our example, they are provided for well. He may not be a man of their social standing, but in service, he has improved himself. He has a good income.
“Of course, there is the threat that he should lose his life in that service, and this is a risk the woman takes.
“Other young women find it differently. They are attached to a man of no means, or else of base ones. Some even fall for scandalous matches: a stable boy or blacksmith in some country village who is far beneath them.
“They spend their lives in squalor, surrounded by children who are always hungry, washing their own clothes and planting their own turnips.
“There are women who marry for their heads being turned, yes. But they are few in the grand scheme of things, and they fare differently. Most find love wanes under the weight of household chores.”
The Baroness paused here and looked at Juliana.
She felt she had to respond in some kind, but she had no idea of what to say.
“Yes, Baroness,” she murmured only, hoping this confirmation that she was listening would serve as enough.
The Baroness seemed satisfied and continued. “There is no love between you and my son. I know this,” she said. “I may be old, but I am not by any means blind. Even if I were, I am not deaf. He bores you.”
“Cousin John is - ” Juliana struggled, trying to find a way to politely pretend that it was not the case.
“I am not stupid either,” the Baroness cut across her sharply. “This is a fact. It does not mean a thing. That my son bores you has very little bearing on anything. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, my lady,” Juliana said meekly, her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.
“Love is a thing that we are told to long for by tales of old,” the Baroness continued, with that manner of hers which signified she was launching into another long lecture.
“It is a thing which has little grounding in reality. I did not love the Baron; he was a man twenty years my senior when we married, and we had little in common. I was but a girl, and he a man who had lived a life.
“He had even married before me, though that unfortunate lady passed away on her childbed before she could give him a surviving heir.
“We spent not much of our days together; he would ride out and hunt with his men, I would sit in and sew with my ladies.
“This was how it was with us. But look what he has given me.”
The Baroness spread her arms wide, indicating the grounds and the house which they had now turned the corner back towards.
“I am mistress of my own domain. My husband passed away, as men who are twenty years our senior are wont to do. I have a child who has been a source of joy to me.
“I have a grand estate, perhaps one of the grandest in England, and it is all mine. I have a veritable army of servants who do my bidding, and who ensure that my needs are always met.
“I wear the finest silks and laces from Paris and Manchester. I am invited to so many balls and visitations I need not see my own home for months at a time if I do not wish to.
“I have never known hunger, never had to do my own housework, never been shamed by my station.
“Ladies and noblemen across our fair country must bow and scrape to me. I have personally met with the King. I have sat at his table.
“I have lived to a ripe old age, and though I hear the whispers in corners wishing that I were to drop down soon, I continue to refuse to do so. I eat my fill of good foods. I have few health complaints.
“All of this serves to illustrate one thing, Juliana, which I hope you will hear clearly. I did not love my husband, the Baron. We were brought together to join two family names.
“Yet here I am, in the twilight of a life well-lived, and I would not have married any other – because I have had a stable life, and a happy one, and never wanted for something so banal as money.”
The Baroness seemed to be finished with her diatribe. She walked on towards the house now without another word to add, carrying an air of satisfaction.
Much had been said, and much had been meant. Juliana heard these words clearly, as the Baroness wished.
But privately, as they drew ever nearer to the house, Juliana was sure of one truth.
This was that the Baroness had never loved as she had loved: had never longed for a man as she longed for Christopher.
For if she had, she would have known that no amount of servants, of balls, of new dresses, could match the feeli
ng of being by his side.
Chapter 28
Christopher faltered on his way towards the entrance to the hall.
He had been full of total determination, but even as he approached, he had seen something that made his heart leap out of his chest and his steps pause.
Jasper Rivers – Captain Jasper Rivers, he reminded himself – stepping out of a coach a short while down the road from his own, and striding towards the hall in his best dress uniform.
Christopher almost wanted to turn away; but what could he do? He had come here with a mission, a mission that should not be delayed. That, surely, had to take priority over any feelings of discomfort.
