Eulogy's Secret (The Huntley Trilogy)

by Grace Elliot

  Then the dreadful wait began.

  Jack drifted between the living and the dead; Eulogy sat in vigil, sleeping fitfully at his bedside. The following morning sweat beaded his brow and, calling on Dr. Foster’s knowledge, she debrided the fresh necrotic tissue, applied a clean poultice and then cooled his brow with damp flannels. She lost track of time, day blended into night and the pattern repeated and when, three days later, the fever finally abated and Jack’s eyes flickered open, Eulogy was too exhausted to feel anything but relief.

  With the crisis over, day by day, Jack grew stronger. It seemed he would live and need all his strength to face fresh challenge: Eulogy’s anger.

  Jack woke, disturbed by the rattle of rain against the window. In an instant, Eulogy was at his side.

  “What time is it?” he asked, groggy and disorientated.

  “Just gone noon.”

  “Damn, I fell asleep again, didn’t I?”

  Eulogy settled on the edge of his bed, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “It will do you good. How are you feeling?”

  “All the better for seeing you.” Jack reached for her hand, but Eulogy pulled away. The disappointment on his face made a small part of her glad.

  “Now, just because you’re feeling better, doesn’t mean that I’ve forgiven you.” She gave him her best governess stare and turned away to hide a smile. She’d come so close to losing Jack, the emotion still too raw to let him off the hook just yet. “Time for a dressing change.”

  Jack wriggled upright, pushing himself up on his right elbow, grimacing as he turned his left shoulder toward Eulogy. “Have I told you recently what a fool I’ve been?”

  “Yes.” Eulogy arranged the bandages in a neat line on the bedside table. “And if you say it often enough I may start to believe you.”

  “Please, tell me, what you are thinking?”

  Eulogy counted on her fingers. “Well, firstly, how pig headed you are…”

  “I meant to protect you, not cause you to suffer.” Jack watched her with a chastened expression.

  “Well you did!” She rounded on him, her large brown eyes glinting. “Did you think I prefer my reputation to a live husband? No, you didn’t think at all! Typical man, act first, think second! If Tristan hadn’t found out and your second hadn’t the foresight to send for a doctor, well you wouldn’t be here now.”

  Her anger dissolved, leaving a quivering mess in its place. She sniffed. She’d meant to be cool, detached, not snivel like a girl, but there had been so much loss in her life.

  “Eulogy, I’m so sorry. I’ve been such an idiot.”

  “Yes you have! How could you? After I was robbed of my mother’s love...” A tear trickled unchecked down her cheek and she started to rock.

  Jack spoke quietly. “I understand that now. It was the last thing I wished to do, to distress you so, only…”

  “Only?” Eulogy shook her head. “I trusted you with my heart and this happens. I’m not sure if I truly know you at all.”

  Tears blurred her vision. Her heart plummeted, a leaden weight in her chest. To trust this man would be to suffer torments, to open herself up to pain and hurt and perhaps it was better to armor herself against love now, never to weaken again.

  “Eulogy no one regrets what happened more than me, but it wasn’t about my social position. I lost my temper, pure and simple. Devlin called you a whore, said you were using me and after last time I snapped. I can’t defend my actions, other than I love you so much.”

  Eulogy sat very still. “So every time someone speaks ill of me, you challenge them to a duel?”

  “No, dearest, of course not. I’ve learnt my lesson, and if he taunted me again, I’d walk away.”

  “Hmmm.” She sucked her cheek. “I suppose if I was a man, and the woman I loved was maligned I might have done the same thing.”

  “Does that mean,” Jack reached again for her hand, “that I am forgiven?”

  A slow smile spread across her face. It was hard to stay cross at Jack for long. “I think we understand each other. As long as you promise to stay out of trouble.” She leaned forward and placed a fluttering kiss on his cheek. Jack groaned.

  “Oh how I have missed your touch.”

  “Hmm, then let me indulge you.” She winked, coquettishly.

  Jack’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Yes, I must see your body.”

  Jack swallowed hard. “Well I am feeling stronger, but…”

  “It’s time to change your dressing.”

  “Oh.”

  “U-uh. Now. Be a good patient and lean forward.”

  Gently she unwound the bandage, caging her racing heart as she revealed Jack’s damaged shoulder. Inspecting the wound she gave a grunt of satisfaction.

  “You’ve been lucky. I’ve seen stronger men than you die.”

  “I am indeed fortunate to have such a dedicated nurse.”

  She grinned back. “All right, you can stop that submissiveness now. I’ve decided to forgive you, so you can start being obnoxious again.”

  The joy in Jack’s eye made her heart glad.

  “For one thing,” she added softly, “I know of no other gentleman who has a painting of me in his dressing room.”

  “Oh,” Jack’s pale cheeks found some color. “You saw it.”

  “Farrell’s first portrait? Yes. He said an anonymous buyer had paid a ridiculous amount of money for it and it was you all along! Why?”

  Jack’s color deepened. “Can’t you guess?”

  Eulogy’s heart thudded against her ribs. “An investment to encourage Farrell?”

  Jack laughed softly. “No, Eulogy my dear, because I loved you from the first moment I saw you only I was too cowardly to admit it, even to myself. I thought that by possessing your likeness, familiarity would blunt the searing emotion. Whereas in fact, it served to torture me.”

  It was Eulogy’s turn to blush. Leaning forward she cradled her chin in her cupped hand, brushed a kiss across his lips. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  With his good arm he tried to pull her close, but with a grin she slipped away. “And another thing. Didn’t you consider that had you actually killed Devlin you’d hang for murder?”

  “I thought we were letting the subject drop? Or do I need to distract you?” Jack regarded her with smoldering intensity. The heat in his gaze flustered her as with shaking hands she tidied away the bandages, conscious of the weight of Jack’s stare against her skin. Eulogy sensed he was only too happy to have her ranting at him like a fishwife, for, she realized with a start, it meant she cared. And cared very deeply she did. A wave of compassion washed away the anger. In a softer voice she continued.

  “The irony is that the man I thought my father, Doctor Foster, taught me the skills to save your life. While my true father, Lord Devlin, treated life with contempt. So you throwing your life away to protect a name I no longer wish to claim, is…stupid…such a waste.”

  “I understand that now and I’m sorry. What news of Lucien?”

  Eulogy grew still. “The ton is alive with gossip. Word got out about the duel being over my parentage.”

  “Did it now?”

  “The ton was in shock when it realized the lengths Devlin had gone to just to hide the fact and people began to ask why.”

  “And they concluded?”

  “Just as you said, that he was in debt and an utter scoundrel. All his creditors called in his IOUs at once, and since he was unable to pay he has been ruined. Blackballed from his club, spurned by his so-called friends and banned from polite society. Oh, and Miss Washington cut him, made quite a show of it she did, so his hopes of marrying money are dashed. His only option is to flee abroad to avoid arrest for debt. I doubt we shall see him again in a very long time.”

  Looking thoughtful, Jack settled back against the pillows. “So his scheming backfired?”

  “Yes, but it also means...” Fidgeting, she toyed with her skirt. “We ought to postpone the we
dding.”

  “Why on earth!” Jack sat up, but grimaced with pain and collapsed back.

  “People know of your involvement in the duel and it would be wise to keep a low profile.”

  “No.” Jack shook his head. “I won’t wait. I want you for my wife as soon as I leave this bed. I want you acknowledged, to have the wedding of the season.”

  Eulogy took his hand. “The thought of a big wedding frightens me. All I want is you.”

  “So.” A look of comprehension dawned on his face. “What would you like?”

  She whispered, “I want you to be happy. But what I would really like is to marry at Easterhope, near the people I grew up with and care about.”

  Jack’s eyes glistened. “My dearest love, then as soon as I can travel, that is exactly what we shall do.”

  She chewed her lip. “I should like that. I should like that very much.…”

  Jack patted the bed. “Come. Let me show you how much better I’m feeling.”

  Their eyes locked and Eulogy felt as if she were falling under the spell of an invisible force pushing her to him. Gently he steered her chin, guiding her lips softly against his.

  “I love you, Eulogy Foster.”

  He fluttered a soft caress against her lower lip.

  “And I love you, Jack Huntley.”

  Jack reached up and ran a knuckle softly down her cheek. A pulse throbbed at the base of her neck as he cupped her face, drawing her down into his embrace.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured.

  “You could never hurt me.”

  Drunk on his closeness, it seemed the most natural thing to fold back the covers and climb in beside him.

  Chapter 23

  A full hour before the service was due to begin, Jack strolled along the country lane towards the church, too restless to wait he needed to be active. His heart soared and tipping back his head, with uncharacteristic aplomb, he started to whistle. All around nature burst into life. The hawthorn dressed with snowy blossom, cherry trees cloaked in pink and the bright thrust of daffodils nodding in the verge. A breeze stirred the apple tree, which shed fluttering petals onto the path as he passed.

  It had been Eulogy’s idea to marry at Easterhope, to be near her childhood friends, instead of being scrutinized by society. As usual, she was right. Theirs was a love match, not a show for the ton. Besides, Jack reflected, there was symmetry to her return. She’d left looking for a brother and returned with a husband.

  With wings on his heart Jack entered the churchyard and saluted the blackbird trilling atop the porch roof. The lichen-stained church, part Norman, sat on the landscape like a cat on a cushion, the churchyard rising around it. Here rested the generations who had lived and died in Easterhope, peacefully resting amongst crocuses, daffodils and dandelions.

  “My dear brother, there you are!” Gravel skittered as a well-built man in an immaculately cut jacket, strode through the lynch gate.

  “Charles.” Jack gripped his brother’s hand. “When did you arrive?”

  “Late last night. When I inquired at the inn this morning, they said you’d already left. I wondered if you’d run for it while you could.” Charles slapped his sibling’s back.

  “No, brother, I’m not like you.”

  “Not too late to change your mind.”

  “Never in a million years.”

  “Then I envy you the certainty.”

  The two men embraced. Growing used to the near-permanent lump of emotion blocking his throat, Jack spoke.

  “This means a lot to me, your being here.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world, even if this place is the back of beyond.” Charles quieted. “Look, I’m sorry George couldn’t get leave and with Mother not fit to travel…”

  “It’s quite all right, old chap, I understand and nothing is going to spoil today.”

  “Come, let us stroll.” Charles raised a quizzical brow. “By the way, you do know that right now your bride-to-be is the most celebrated woman in London? Devlin’s treachery has raised her to almost mythical status, a wronged beauty with you as her knight-in-shining-armor, defending her honor. Lithographs of Farrell’s portraits are selling faster than they can be printed, adorning every parlor from the lowest to the highest.”

  “Heavens!”

  “Just as well you two are marrying in the country. She’s so popular it would cause a riot in town.”

  From the lane running alongside the dry stone wall around the graveyard, came the low murmur of voices. Jack glimpsed a man with a cloud of white hair, leaning heavily on the curate.

  “Ah, that’s the Reverend Reed arriving. He’s come out of retirement especially to conduct the ceremony. Let me introduce you.”

  Again a lump formed in Jack’s throat, really this emotion business was most inconvenient. He wanted to tell Charles that the Reverend had baptized Eulogy and had watched her grew and when he learnt of their impending marriage, the old man had insisted on taking the ceremony. The look of joy on Eulogy’s face at this news had almost reduced him to tears. Thinking about it still made his lip tremble and pulling himself together, Jack ascribed this strange behavior to weakness after his recent injury.

  Jack took his seat before the altar. Considering the service was intended as an intimate affair, the church was remarkably full. Glancing around, Jack was moved as he recognized colleagues, friends and relations who had taken the initiative to travel north to join the celebration. It was becoming quite a habit, he reflected wryly, being overwhelmed by happiness, and as he sank back against the pew and Charles gave him a reassuring look, he realized he had never been happier.

  The breathy organ struck a chord and a hush fell over the congregation. Jack peered over his shoulder. Eulogy appeared in silhouette at the church door, arm in arm with Farrell. Gliding along, like some ethereal creature, she stole Jack’s breath away. Women sobbed and men nodded in agreement that never had they seen a more radiant bride. She wore a gown of ivory silk; her hair tumbling softly beneath her veil was crowned with a coronet of blushing primroses. On silent feet she reached his side. Jack had to clench his fists to stop his tears, not entirely successfully, as his brother discretely passed him a silk handkerchief.

  Beaming from ear to ear, the Reverend Reed shuffled to the altar steps. Clearing his throat and peering over the rim of his glasses, he signaled for hush so the service could begin. Standing in front of the altar with Eulogy at his side, Jack’s heart thudded, fit to burst. The service passed in a blur, he heard and repeated words, like a man drugged, impressions of smiling faces and then they were married—Charles digging him in the ribs, hissing not to be an ass and kiss the bride

  He came to his senses and with shaking hands Jack lifted her veil. She too was trembling. Instinctively he brushed his lips against hers, then again more deeply, pulling her into his embrace. As his body heated slowly, the ripple of amusement spreading around the congregation turned to enthusiastic applause.

  He threw back his head and laughed, whilst Eulogy’s cheeks turned scarlet. Tucking her tapered fingers securely in the crook of his arm, they made their way down the aisle. Some village girls, freckled faced lasses with bouncing ringlets, sprang forward, with baskets over their arms. Giggling they scattered meadow flowers before the newlyweds to form a sweetly scented carpet. Jack’s heart swelled. No tonnish wedding could match this depth of feeling, and to think, he had almost been foolish enough to insist.

  The late Doctor Foster and his daughter were greatly respected in Easterhope and surrounding hamlets, and after the ceremony the wedding supper was a wonderful surprise. A little girl in her Sunday best, her hair neatly plaited and tied with red ribbons, shyly beckoned the newlyweds to follow. Jack glanced at his bride, who smiled back with tears in her eyes. Eulogy whispered.

  “Little Sophie Cooper. She was in no hurry to be born one Christmas Eve.”

  “Oh.” Jack nodded, wondering if he would ever stop being amazed by his new wife. “And you h
elped?”

  “In a manner. I looked after the Cooper’s other children, Mr. Cooper being of no use in the circumstances.”

  Jack suppressed a grin, struck by the thought of Eulogy bearing their children. Sophie danced around, her pigtails skipping against her back, leading them to what appeared to a newly built barn hewn from grey stone. The great double doors, big enough for a wagon to pass through, stood invitingly open.

  Inside the earth floor had been swept clean and was scattered with lavender, a low platform at one end, and lines of trestle tables set with white linen clothes. Jack inhaled, the scent of spring filling the air. From the rafters hung swags of ivy, threaded with apple blossom, great vases of cherry and peach blossom set on every table.

  “This is magical.” Eulogy breathed in disbelief. “A fairy story.”

  Too overwhelmed to speak, Jack squeezed her arm. The little girl, with smiling eyes regarded Jack shyly. Eulogy nudged him and winked.

  “Another conquest.”

  He shook his head, hardly able to tear his gaze from his bride’s dimpled cheeks. “Eyes only for you, my darling.”

  A low chortle reminded them they were not alone as Charles slapped his brother’s back. “The billing-and-cooing can wait, the party’s waiting.”

  With Eulogy at his side they assumed their seats at the head table on the low platform, Eulogy to his right, Charles to his left. Village folk continued to file in, in a seemingly endless stream, spreading across the barn until there was not a seat to be had at any table. A murmur of approval rose as the happy couple lifted their glasses in a toast to the assembled crowd.

  And the celebration began. The delicious smell of roasting pork wafted in and with delight Jack realized a hog was roasting on a spit. Platters of succulent meat were passed from hand to hand, and in his love filled haze Jack found himself facing a plate of pork with an aromatic stuffing, apple sauce, creamy potatoes and the sweetest glazed carrots he had ever tasted. His stomach rumbled and suddenly he realized just how hungry he was and tucked in with enthusiasm. Where once he would have shuddered, and been repelled by the rusticity, now all he could do was grin until his cheeks ached. This was perfect. Eulogy was perfect.