by Abby Ayles
Brazen was returned almost exactly to his former self, if a little thinner. He looked smart and trim, his hair and whiskers groomed perfectly, his uniform brushed and polished to the highest possible standard.
“Yes, sir,” Christopher said, relaxing his posture only slightly. He may have been told to step out of his salute, but that did not mean he had to slouch or lean against the wall.
“I am given to believe a wild rumor spreads against the men,” Brazen began, a smile spreading over his face at the same moment.
“Well, I am happy to remark that it is true. The Major is to be promoted, and as is his prerogative, he recommended a man that he felt would be fit to take his place. That man is me, and I have been confirmed my new commission.”
Christopher snapped back into a salute. “Major Brazen, sir, allow me to congratulate you.”
“The formality is not necessary,” Brazen replied, though he seemed pleased. “But this is only tangentially related to what I wish to speak to you about. Now that I am moving up, there is a Captaincy available.”
Christopher stared at him. He did not dare move or speak, just in case it would break whatever magic spell seemed now to be taking place.
Brazen paused to regard him, then continued. “I have recommended your name for it, citing your various accomplishments these last months as well as your good standing in the community,” he said.
“There has been unanimous agreement. The commission is yours, if you desire it.”
Christopher tried to speak, but found he could not. He swallowed a few times and tried again, his throat suddenly constricted tightly by something. “Sir, I – yes. I mean, thank you.”
Brazen laughed good-naturedly. “Congratulations, Captain,” he said, slapping Christopher on the side of his arm. “I have your insignia here. The position is yours.”
“Thank you,” Christopher choked out again.
“I know how much this means to you,” Brazen said. “And how you have worked for.
“Just promise me this, Captain Hardwicke: it will not stop here. I’ll have you beside me as a Major before too long, do you understand? Keep on the path you have begun.”
Christopher nodded, clutching his new insignia in his hand, too overcome for words. This was it: everything he had been working towards. It was here, now, at last.
“I have arranged for a lull in your duties,” Brazen went on. “I know you have not taken leave for many months now, as you focused on your work.
“Take this break, and spend some short time with your family. You are not expected back until the end of the week. If you will have it, I will offer you my personal coach; as recognition of your efforts for returning me to a position which has allowed my ascent, it will take you to Hardwicke Hall.”
“I will take it, and gladly so,” Christopher said. He could find no other words to express how he felt, and so he settled for saying again: “Thank you, sir.”
The journey to Hardwicke Hall beckoned, but not before he had written something on a piece of parchment taken from his scattered desk and dispatched it with a messenger to the post.
Juliana,
I am to be at Hardwicke Hall for a period of only a few days. Come at your convenience if you may find it possible.
I am made Captain – the whole tale I shall tell you in person. The Duke and Duchess are welcome if they can be convinced. If you can bring them – if you can come – I will make good my proposal.
We will face down their every objection, together. I intend to marry you before the month is out.
Yours now as much as ever,
Captain Christopher Hardwicke
He bribed the boy to see it was delivered fast, and packed a hasty trunk to travel away to his family’s home.
He spent the time in the coach with his head in the clouds, thinking over everything that had come to pass. If someone had told him two years ago that he would progress to Captain on merit, not by paying for it, he would have called them a fool.
And if they had told him he would do it for the love of a single woman, the woman he was determined to make his wife, he would have laughed in their face.
But it had been a journey; a long one, with many curves and bumps in the road, and fords to cross, and broken wheels. Once or twice he had seemed to stop entirely, but eventually, the journey had continued.
Christopher felt, truly, that he had changed the boy he had been into a man worthy of Juliana’s hand.
He had mended and repaired whatever could be fixed, and made up for the indiscretions of his youth. Whatever Jasper had coaxed him into, he had paid for, either in money or in work of some kind.
And he was known differently now – and that counted for everything.
At Hardwicke Hall, Edmund was surprised to see him come into the main hall; he approached with something like concern.
“Is something the matter?” he asked. “We had not expected you.”
“No, brother,” Christopher smirked. “Do you not notice anything different about me?”
Edmund’s eyes roamed his body, checking the length of his hair and the fact that he had still two arms and two legs. It was a comically long time before his eyes touched upon Christopher’s shoulders and noticed, at last, the change.
“Captain?” he breathed.
“Captain Hardwicke, at your service,” Christopher replied, grinning and effecting a salute.
Edmund gave a delighted yell, and shook his younger brother by the shoulders. “You rascal! When did this happen? Joanna, Amy, come and see!”
“This morning,” Christopher admitted. “I’ve been given a few days’ leave to celebrate and tell the news before I have to return.”
Joanna Hardwicke appeared at the top of the stairs, and quickly descended them.
“What is the news?” she asked, supporting herself on the banister with one arm; she was still not as strong as she had been before her illness.
“See?” Edmund said, gesturing to Christopher’s shoulders. “My brother is made Captain!”
“Oh, how very well done, Christopher!” Joanna exclaimed. “Where is Amy? I shall fetch her. She will want to see this.”
“With the new governess, I think,” Edmund said, laughing at Christopher’s raised eyebrow. “Yes, we finally gave in. Being a mother and running the household is enough, at least until Elizabeth grows a little older.”
“You gave in,” Joanna muttered, before heading off in search of the youngest of the Hardwicke siblings.
Christopher raised the other eyebrow, and Edmund made a face.
“Best not to push it,” he suggested. “Patience is away with a friend, or she would love to hear your news. I don’t think we can have her back within the week; plans were made. You know how she is about her plans.”
“Surely she will be married soon,” Christopher said.
“Yes, and this last adventure hopefully prepares her for that,” Edmund sighed.
“I wanted her to have one last summer trip, before it all; but I am not able to leave the business at present, and we cannot travel with Elizabeth.”
“There is something else,” Christopher said, hastily, now that he had Edmund alone again. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve invited someone to come and visit with us, while I am here.”
“Not that Rivers, I hope,” Edmund said, looking aghast.
“No!” Christopher said, quickly. “That man is long gone from my sphere, Edmund. If I never hear his name again, I will rejoice. He left me with many a wrong to right.”
“The news reaches us, even here, that you have been doing so,” Edmund said with approval. “Our customers and partners, even, remark upon your transformation. But what of this mystery guest? Who is it?”
Christopher took a deep breath. “You remember that I sought the hand of Lady Juliana Reffern,” he began.
“How could I forget?” Edmund grunted. “She was the source of that summer of particular poor behavior if I recall.”
“Yes, well, that was a lon
g time ago,” Christopher tried.
“A year, hardly more,” Edmund pointed out.
“That is not the point,” Christopher said hastily. “Please, listen. Though I courted her again once her engagement to the Lord Drevon was broken off, and she was most receptive to it, her parents refused.
“They did not like my reputation, or my position; or even my low title. They told me I was not good enough, in no small terms.”
Edmund bristled, but Christopher cut him off with a raised hand.
“They had a point,” Christopher continued. “And so I have endeavored, these months, to turn things around. To correct the course of my reputation, and to begin my career in earnest.
“I can do nothing about the title I was born with, but in every other aspect, I am much improved.”
“And Lady Juliana?” Edmund asked.
“She loves me dearly, as I love her,” Christopher said. “She even rebuffed the advances of John Woode, a clergyman now and the son of Lady Ascot; I believe they have the largest estate in the county, or at least the second most so.”
“She turned down great riches,” Edmund noted.
“Indeed; and John Woode married her friend, Lady Mary, which has been the source of much anger and chagrin to the Duke and Duchess of Prighton.
“So, in short, the situation is this: Juliana is unattached, and I am unattached, and we both desire to be married very much, but her family is yet to be persuaded.”
“And it follows, then,” Edmund said. “That you have invited the lady, as well as the Duke and Duchess, to come and visit with us here.”
“Or,” Christopher began, avoiding eye contact. “If she cannot manage it – and I know this will not sit well with you – if she cannot persuade them to come, to come alone, that we may be married in secret and have it done before they can prevent it.”
Edmund gave him a warning look. “It should not come to that, Christopher. The lady’s reputation – well, she will be your wife. Do not destroy that for her.”
“I hope it will not,” Christopher said. “Sincerely, I will do all that is in my power to prevent it. But by God, Edmund. I love her so much, I would throw everything I have into the fire to be with her. And if it comes to that – well, I am prepared.”
Chapter 37
Juliana read Christopher’s letter, her heart pounding fast in her chest. She laid it on the table, and regarded her maid for a long moment, trying to find the right place for her mind to be.
“I’m going to Hardwicke Hall,” she told the girl. “Pack me a bag. One of my finest gowns, and the rest to be the most practical; and the same for any other items. All of my jewelry, too. If I cannot go accompanied, I may need it to barter or sell.”
The maid’s eyes widened, but she nodded and dipped a curtsey. “Yes, my lady,” she said and hurried to work.
Juliana steeled herself as she began the march down the stairs and into the sitting room. She kept her back straight and her head high, and as she entered, she did not flinch to see her mother sewing and her step-father perusing a stack of documents.
They barely looked up as she walked in; but she would have their attention, whether they liked it or not.
“Mama,” she announced. “We are going to Hardwicke Hall.”
The Duchess of Prighton looked up from her sewing and blinked. “I beg pardon?” she said.
“We must pack to depart immediately,” Juliana said. “There is no time to lose. We go to Hardwicke Hall.”
“And why might you embark on this sudden trip?” the Duke asked, laying down his papers. “Am I not invited?”
“We all three are invited, but we must go immediately; for the invitation is good only for a few days,” Juliana said. “We go to prove to your prejudice, once and for all, that the name Hardwicke is a fine and fair one.”
“What do we care for the name Hardwicke?” the
Duchess blustered.
“For it will be the name of your daughter,” Juliana announced.
The Duchess blinked again, and Juliana knew that she was losing the battle. Here it came: the same old speech once more.
She would begin with the unsuitability of Christopher Hardwicke, then a diatribe on the loss of both John Woode and the Lord Drevon; soon after, a long sermon on the miseries of having a daughter who would remain a spinster.
That could not happen. Not this time. Juliana opened her mouth to speak before she could be interrupted, determined that she would be heard.
“You have told me, Mama, that you do not wish to have a spinster for a daughter; is that not correct?” she asked.
“Yes,” the Duchess said, looking as though the wind had been taken out of her sails. That, she was probably thinking, was what I was just about to say.
“And you have told me, Father, that you believe it not unduly harsh to throw me into the poorhouse, given that an unmarried daughter is such a disgrace to the name of Reffern; am I not in the right?”
“Yes,” the Duke admitted, shifting in his chair to face her more fully.
“You, Mama, have also bemoaned the fact that now I am getting older – though I do not think I am very old – and now that I have refused two suitors, because you believe you will never find me a suitable husband now; do I repeat it correctly?”
“In so many words,” the Duchess allowed.
“Your objections to my intended marriage are this: that Hardwicke is not a good name, that his reputation is poor, and that he is not ranked high enough. Is this the truth?”
Both the Duke and Duchess nodded.
“Then come with me now to Hardwicke Hall,” Juliana said. “What loss could there be for you? We have no plans here, and I may be able to sway all of your concerns at once.
“Then I shall find a husband, and you do not have to search for one; I shall be provided for, and you shall not have the shame of the poorhouse, and I shall be wed, and you will not fear a spinster daughter any longer.”
“I have already said it,” the Duke announced. “No daughter of mine shall marry a Lieutenant.”
Juliana ignored the obvious – that she was not, in fact, his daughter by blood at all.
“He is made Captain,” she said. “He vowed to you that he would, and so he has. His reputation he has worked upon, cutting off all relations with the man who offended you. He had done all that you asked. What more can you expect of him to make him worthy?”
A silence met her words at first. Juliana could see from the confusion on their faces that they were trying to work out a way that they might object; a way in which she had not already met all of their concerns, and more. They could not find it.
“But, Juliana,” the Duchess said. “It is terribly short notice.”
“Yes,” the Duke agreed. “How ever are we to be packed in time?”
“My packing is underway already,” Juliana said. “And since we are to be there for only a short time, there is no need to pack extensively.”
Though I will be there for a much longer time if you refuse me, Juliana thought. I will be there until we are wed, and leave you behind forever.
There was much spluttering from both the Duke and the Duchess, who were still trying to come up with a reasonable explanation why they should not go.
“The weather is too warm to be traveling by coach,” the Duchess said.
“The weather is dull today, Mama, and likely to remain so,” Juliana correct her. “It is much cooler now than it was when we traveled back from our spring trip – which, of course, trailed right into the summer.”
She had not wished particularly to remind them of that whole saga; but perhaps it would serve as a further nudge to the fact that she had a chance to get married, which they should not turn down for no good reason.
“Er,” the Duchess started, unable to find a way to finish her thought.
Juliana sighed, and walked over to her mother, and took her by the hand. With an almighty tug, she hauled her from her seat, and began to pull her along and out of the ro
om.
“Come, Mama,” she said. “Time to instruct your maid on what you wish packed.”
“Juliana!” the Duke of Prighton admonished her.
“You, too, Father,” Juliana said as if all were normal.
The Duke and Duchess, both so used to giving orders rather than taking them, seemed helpless under her new determination.
