Hannah shook her head as a smile formed on her lips. “You forget that I am a writer and I can create stories. I will create a story concerning Daniel, but I will need your help.”
Juliet stared at her sister. Had the woman gone mad? “But…”
“Hush,” Hannah admonished before leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Now, listen carefully as I tell you a wonderful tale…”
Everyone gave Hannah their attention, and as Juliet listened, with each word her doubt turned to curiosity. By the time Hannah came to an end, Juliet was filled with hope. Excitement coursed through her as they all turned to look at their mother, who remained silent, her lips pursed.
“What do you think, Mother?” Juliet asked. “Is such a thing possible?”
After a moment, her mother replied, “It may very well be; although, you risk our good names, as well as those of your husbands, if you are caught. Are all of you willing to take such a risk?”
Tears streamed down Juliet’s cheeks as each of her sisters affirmed in turn that they were. Her love for each of them was unmeasurable, and she hoped they understood how great was her appreciation.
“Then we must act quickly,” their mother said. “I will assign each of you a task that must be completed.” Then she turned to Juliet. “Your only task is to continue to engage with Lord Parsons before the wedding so he does not become suspicious.”
Juliet nodded. She would give such a wonderful performance that if the theaters in London were to learn of it, they would come clamoring to her door to have her in their productions.
Chapter Twenty
Although Juliet had played many roles in the past, none were as challenging as the charade of a woman infatuated with a man she despised. And none had held such importance as the one she played now.
While her sisters busily saw to their parts of the plan, Juliet was forced to stroll with Lord Parsons once more.
“You are unusually quiet today,” he said. “Is something worrying you? Perhaps you are angry in some way?”
They came to a stop beside a rosebush, and Juliet stared at the lovely red petals of the most perfect rose she had ever seen as she spoke. “Forgive me. I am preoccupied with the wedding and thoughts of the years ahead as your wife.” She turned to smile up at him. “That is enough to keep any woman’s mind occupied, would you not say?”
The viscount raised a single eyebrow. “Surely you must have some sadness for the fate the stable boy faces. Am I to believe you feel nothing for him?” His eyes bore into her and she knew he was watching for any sign of weakness. Well, she refused to give him what he hoped to find.
“I would not rejoice in the perishing of any man,” she said, pleased that her voice remained steady, for inside she trembled with rage. “I do admit that I thought some on his fate last night.”
He gave her a triumphant grin. “And what did you conclude?”
Furrowing her brow in thought, she replied, “That Daniel had many missteps. After all, he did strike you, did he not?” She waited for him to nod. “It was also he who convinced me to keep away from you, as well. So, yes, I am saddened a life will be lost, but that is not my first concern.” She lifted her hand and gave an admiring gaze at the ring Lord Parsons had given her. “I now have other matters on which to focus my time and energy.”
As he had done many times before, Lord Parsons placed the back of his hand on her cheek. “I had thought you would run away once you learned the boy’s fate. Yet, here you are in front of me.”
It was for Daniel’s fate she remained, but she would not admit as much to this man. Instead, she feigned a smile and placed a hand over the one that remained on her cheek. “Indeed, I am here, and I have no reason to run away again. I learned my lesson the first time.”
His grin nearly broke his face in half as he offered his arm once more and they continued their stroll. “I meant to mention to you that my meetings this week have gone as planned, and I have received all I can from your uncle. Therefore, there will be no more use for the man.”
Juliet smiled. “Come Wednesday evening, he shall be no more.”
Lord Parsons chuckled. “Yes, the unfortunate accident of a drunkard,” he said, clear admiration in his tone. “I must admit it is a convincing way for a man to die. Especially one with his circumstances.” He stopped beside a tall hedge and turned toward her. “Although, I cannot help but wonder if you plan the same for me.”
Juliet’s mouth went dry as sharp branches poked through the back of her dress where he pressed her against the hedge. Her heart beat so quickly, she feared she would never be able to slow it.
As he towered over her, however, she thought of her husband and the suffering he endured, and the love for him swelled in her heart, giving her the courage to speak.
“Have you killed?” she asked with a laugh. “And become a widow with nothing? Please, if you wish to insult me, the least you can do is accuse me of wanting to marry the Prince!”
Lord Parsons studied her for a moment and then took a step back. “It is odd, and I should not admit this aloud, but I find myself trusting you more and more every day.”
Juliet snaked her arm through his. “That is not odd,” she said. “What it is, is good judgment. After all, it was that judgment that brought us together and will eventually see we both get what we deserve.”
She had not said truer words in her life.
***
Gray and dreary clouds loomed outside the office window of Scarlett Hall, mirroring the life Juliet endured as of late. Yet, there was hope that she would be reunited with her husband once again. The guest who would be arriving shortly held the key to that success.
“We will prevail,” her mother said. “There is always hope in the darkest of days.”
Juliet made to respond, but the door opened and Forbes entered the room.
“Reverend Creassey, my lady,” the butler announced.
“Yes, see him in,” her mother replied.
Forbes dipped his head and moved aside to allow the vicar to enter. Although Reverend Creassey wore a finely tailored coat, Juliet was well aware that he made such purchases using funds that came from deceit. She had never trusted the man, but her mother did and therefore she would, as well. This one time.
“Lady Lambert,” the reverend said in a fawning tone, “there are not many of the parsonage who I would journey to see. And on a Saturday, no less. Consider this an exception for your longstanding commitment to the Church.”
“I appreciate you coming on such short notice, Reverend,” her mother said without standing from her seat behind the desk. Juliet remained at the window. “As my letter stated, the matter is of the utmost importance.”
Reverend Creassey gave a light snort and approached the desk, giving Juliet no more than a perfunctory glance before returning his attention to her mother.
“It is always some matter of grave importance when you wish to speak to me,” he said, scowling, “and now I am here once again to do your bidding.”
Juliet frowned. What strange words! How often had he been to Scarlett Hall?
Her mother made no comment about the subtle jibe. “I have some matters that require your aid. The first concerns the marriage of Juliet to Lord Parsons. I understand you had the records documenting her marriage to Daniel Haskins destroyed?”
The reverend did not hesitate in his response. “I did. Lord Parsons approached me several months ago concerning this matter with Miss Juliet. I saw no reason I should not agree to it.”
Her mother folded her hands on top of the desk. “Then I must request a favor,” she said. “You are not to file the documentation concerning the wedding. No record of the event is to be made, nor should it be known.”
Reverend Creassey laughed. “You of all people know that I am not one to take orders,” he said, unbuttoning his coat. “We have discussed your arrogance in the past, and I see now that you have not heeded my warnings.”
Her mother and the reverend stared at one another
as if daring the other to make the next move. Would their plan fail? It appeared Reverend Creassey was loyal to Lord Parsons, much more so than her mother had suspected. Was there a chance he would refuse?
“I will also need new records of baptism for Daniel,” her mother continued, as if the standoff had not taken place. “Under a new name, of course.”
The reverend placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in clear anger. “Let me be clear,” he said, the threat in his tone evident, “Lord Parsons was the first to approach me requesting my assistance and therefore holds precedent over this situation. So, unless you have some other matter that needs attending to, I will take my leave.”
Juliet could not help but gape. Worry filled her as the man stood, his posture and tone brooking no argument. Indeed, their plan would fail!
“Juliet Lambert,” her mother said. “Do you remember her?”
Reverend Creassey laughed. “Yes, I know your daughter’s name. I am old, Eleanor, but I am not blind. She stands right there behind you.”
Her mother smiled and shook her head. “Lady Juliet Lambert, the woman for whom my daughter was named. The mother of the former Baron Lambert. You knew the woman quite well, did you not?”
The reverend’s face turned a bright red. “I know all my flock well,” he said. “Why?”
Her mother opened a desk drawer and removed an old tan leather-bound book. “This was her journal,” she said. “In it, she mentions a number of names, several of whom are, or were, women of the ton. She also makes mention of several…let us say, indiscretions, attached to these women. Your name, dear Ambrose, is mentioned beside a few, although not in high regard.”
He gave a sniff. “I help all who come to me,” he said dismissively, “and yet many are ungrateful. I do not care about the ramblings of a woman long dead.”
“What this possesses,” her mother continued, holding up the journal, “is what Lady Lambert revealed to me on her deathbed. I swore to her I would destroy these pages, yet I could not bring myself to do it.”
The reverend pursed his lips in anger. “What do they say?” He glared down at her, and when she did not respond, he gave her a look of such rage, Juliet took a step back. Yet, her mother made not a flinch. “Do not play games with me!”
“I assure you I never play games,” her mother replied, her voice still as cool as the air outside. “Yet, there are many secrets, Ambrose, dark secrets that have plagued Scarlett Hall for over one hundred and fifty years. Many you are already aware of, for I have gone to you for help with them. But now, I shall tell you of another secret, one that Charles’s mother told me, and one you will want to hear.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Scarlett Hall, 1762
Lady Juliet Lambert was wrought with guilt. She had drawn the ire of her husband, Lord Henry Lambert, 6th Baron Lambert, yet she was unsure how. They had been married nearly three years, and Henry had become more withdrawn with each passing day. Although she understood that a man had a need to attend to business during the day, the nights were what brought her great worry.
Her husband spent most evenings away from home, and when he was in residence, he spoke to her rarely. She had tried to please him, going so far as to embroider a new handkerchief for him. Yet, when she presented him with her gift, he merely sneered at it and threw it back in her face. He was slowly becoming far different from the man who had wooed and courted her, which was her reason for speaking to the young new vicar, Reverend Ambrose Creassey.
The vicar was perhaps a year older than her two and twenty years. At her and her husband’s wedding, Reverend Creassey had spoken to her privately, telling her that if any problems arose between her and her new husband, she could call on him at any time for marital advice.
Juliet had thought the gesture kind, and now that she was indeed having marital problems, she found herself seeking his wisdom. If anyone knew how to mend a marriage, a reverend certainly would.
The carriage came to a stop in front of a large cottage, much larger than she would have expected of a vicar, yet who was she to speak ill of a man of God? Perhaps his works were such that God had seen him blessed for all he had done for others.
Her skirts flowed around her slippers as she made her way up the stone path to the front door, but before she was able to touch the knocker, the door opened and the reverend himself greeted her with a smile.
“Lady Lambert,” he said with only the slightest dip of his head, “what a pleasant surprise to see you again.”
“Thank you, Reverend,” she said. “I am afraid I must speak with you again. Things with Henry have not improved in the least, and I am quite at a loss as to what to do.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I understand. Please, come in and we shall discuss your problem further in private.”
She glanced around, shame filling her. What made her believe that airing her issues in front of the vicar’s home would be the right thing to do? Her current mental situation was not making her think clearly. Stepping into the small foyer, she allowed the reverend to remove her wrap.
“I am sorry my home is not as grand as Scarlett Hall, but I suspect no home is quite as wonderful.”
Juliet laughed. “I have told you before, you have a lovely home. And I am sorry I did not send a card beforehand, but I do appreciate you taking the time out of what a assume is a very busy schedule to speak with me.”
They entered the sitting room. An elegant sofa covered in red and gold sat across from a pair of matching chairs, all better suited for a much larger house than the country cottage in which the reverend lived. She frowned. The last time she had called, his furnishings were much more simple and modest.
What surprised her more, however, was the large drinks cart filled with more than a dozen crystal decanters. She had thought vicars did not drink, or at least none she knew.
Her disapproval must have shown on her face, for the reverend chuckled and said, “There is no harm in drinking an occasional glass of wine. The rest is so my guests can choose based on his - or her - preference. Please, sit. Allow me to pour you a drink.”
She nodded and sat on the sofa. “Thank you, but no.”
He clicked his tongue at her. “You do not wish me to believe you rude, would you?”
Juliet gasped. “No, of course not.”
“Then you will accept my offer,” he said, smiling at her as he glanced over his shoulder. “Now, tell me what brings a lost sheep to my home today?”
Juliet smiled, for she was indeed lost and in need of guidance. “It is Henry,” she replied. “We have been married three years now, and the chasm I spoke of with you before has widened. I do not know what to do!”
“And did you speak to him concerning your worries as I advised?” Reverend Creassey asked. When he smiled at her, for a moment she saw a handsomeness she had not noticed before.
She chastised herself silently. He was a man of God and she a married woman! What right did she have to think him handsome, even if it was for the tiniest moment?
“I did,” she replied. “Twice, in fact.” When the reverend took the seat beside her rather than the chair across, her heart caught in her throat. She accepted the glass of wine reluctantly. “Thank you,” she said. “I do not usually drink.”
“It helps relax the mind so the truth can be spoken,” he said. “Unless you believe me unworthy to share a drink with?”
Julie’s eyes widened. She had not meant to offend the man! “No, of course not,” she assured him. “It is I who is unworthy, as I have failed in my marriage and now draw my husband’s ire.”
Reverend Creassey smiled and took a sip of his wine. When he gave her an expectant look, Juliet did the same. How had she come to a point in her life where she angers her husband and offends a vicar?
“When you looked at the many decanters on my cart, I saw judgment in your eyes. Do you deny this?”
Juliet studied the glass in her hands. “No, Father,” she whispered. “I di
d judge you, but I had not meant to. I had merely thought it odd and nothing more.”
“And now you drink with me and the judgment is gone?” he asked, his voice angry.
Why did she always put her foot wrong? If she had denied her initial thoughts, he would never have known. Yet, lying to a vicar had to be amongst the worst of sins!
“My apologies, Father,” she whispered. “I had meant no offense.”
As if he had not been filled with anger before, he gave her a dismissive wave of his hand. “There is nothing for which to apologize,” he said. “I find we humans tend to judge one another when we are hurting. It may be an attempt to garner control over our own lives. But enough about that. I believe I can help you remedy your problem.”
Juliet could not help but smile. Why could Henry not be like this man - willing to listen and give comfort?
“I must ask you a few questions,” Reverend Creassey said. “And your honesty is of the utmost importance. If you are not honest, I cannot aid you in making the proper improvements.”
“I do not lie,” Juliet replied, looking at him in the eyes to prove she spoke the truth.
He sighed.
Did he not believe her? “Please, feel free to ask me anything.”
“Very well,” he said, “we will see how honest you truly are. Do you allow your husband to work uninterrupted?”
“Yes, of course,” she replied, surprised at the question.
“And you obey his every word?”
She agreed again. With each question, Juliet grew more worried and sipped her wine without thought.
“You have certain duties as a wife, Juliet,” Reverend Creassey said. “May I call you Juliet?”
“Yes, of course, Father,” she said.
He took her glass - how had it become empty? - and placed it beside his on the low table beside them. “A woman must fulfill her husband’s every desire,” he said. “Are you doing that?”
What a bold question! Juliet thought, her heart racing at the inquiry into what should have been intimate between her and her husband.
Ballad of the Innocents Page 16
