Far Beyond Rubies

by Rosemary Morris

  * * * *

  Gervaise exercised stern self-control. He neither wanted to frighten Juliana with his passion, nor did he want his sister to know how much he cared for his protégée.

  “You are transformed, Juliana.” He released her and bowed. “Forgive me for not kneeling in homage.” He glanced at Barbara. “I assume you are responsible for this metamorphosis.”

  “’Twas a pleasure to dress her.” Barbara clapped her hands like an excited child. “Do you not think her coiffeur becomes her?”

  He looked at the halo of curls clustered round Juliana’s shapely head. “Indeed,” he replied, noting the blush which crept into Juliana’s cheeks.

  A small hand tugged the skirts of his coat. “Uncle Gervaise, Uncle Gervaise, you said you would bring me a gift. Where is it?”

  “Margaret, you shame me. Where are your manners?” Barbara protested. “Curtsey to your uncle instead of asking him for a present.”

  Gervaise smiled down at the child. “Nay, I would have the impudent sprite no different.” He bent down, picked up his niece, and then tossed her in the air repeatedly until she shrieked with laughter before he put her down.

  “You are too good-natured, Brother. Do not allow Margaret and James to plague you.”

  “Nonsense, I like children.”

  “Come with me,” Barbara said and ushered her son and daughter indoors.

  Juliana sank onto the bench. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with the same trust which had awakened his chivalry when they first met. Gervaise gulped. Even then he had wanted to kiss her, and since they had become more acquainted, his desire increased every time he saw her.

  “I hope you found your family in good health. Did your sister-by-law like the rattle?” Juliana asked in the beautiful voice he admired so much.

  “I think so. At least, she thanked me for it prettily. Yes, come to think of it, she did like it. She made much too much of the trifle I gave to my niece.”

  “Poor lady, it must be heart-rending to lose a husband before the birth of a child.”

  Gervaise cleared his throat. He could not say he suspected Elizabeth looked on her husband’s death as a merciful release from the bondage of an unhappy marriage. “For now my sister-by-law and my baby niece are comfortable. In future, I will do whatever I can to help them.

  “To change the subject, Juliana, I visited Dr Anstey.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “I hope you will be pleased with me for I have been busy on your behalf. Dr Anstey told me the parish register, in which your parents’ marriage was recorded, has been stolen. But not to worry...”

  “Curse William, I have not the least doubt he stole it, and is also responsible for removing the page in the family Bible, on which Mother and Father’s marriage was entered,” she said, her tone bitter and her fists clenched.

  “No need to be so fierce. I have in my possession Doctor Anstey’s sworn testament that he married your parents, as well as a statement taken from Anne-Marie.”

  “Oh, I see.” She paused. “How can I possibly thank you?”

  Gervaise stood straighter. “No need to thank me, it is a pleasure to serve you.”

  “But I do thank you,” she cried out.

  “No need,” he repeated.

  She looked down. “I wanted to visit Dr Anstey yesterday, but Lord Ralph and Lady Barbara begged me not to leave The Grange before you came back.” She sighed. “I promised you I would stay here until you returned. To be honest, I would have broken my word if I had the opportunity, because Dick came to warn me William knows where I am,” she explained.

  “I am glad you did not take a foolish risk. If your half-brother got you in his clutches there is no saying what he might do.”

  Her eyes blazed. “I am not imprudent. I would not have gone unattended.”

  He would have spoken again but for a lackey who served them wine.

  “My lady thought you might be thirsty after your journey,” the man said.

  “Please thank her ladyship for her thoughtfulness.” He looked at Juliana again.

  He caught his breath. Her eyes were softened by unspoken emotion. Her anger had died away. Only delicate colour marked her petal-smooth cheeks, though her full breasts rose and fell faster than usual.

  Gervaise cleared his throat. “Juliana, I hope you will approve of the other business I transacted on your behalf. I have engaged Mr Hutchinson, a friend of your brother’s attorney, to secure copies of both your father’s previous will, in which he bequeathed Riverside to you, and his subsequent will.”

  “Can you trust in his discretion?”

  “I think so. Although I first met him in a coffee house—where he and Mr Yelland spoke about you and your sister—it is not as though he spoke of confidential matters.”

  Juliana swayed toward him. “For as long as I live, I will never be able to repay you.”

  Gervaise cleared his throat. His tone unsteady, he said, “I am your knight-errant. Is it not my duty to serve you?”

  Juliana’s eyes glowed. “After you slay my dragons, will you not claim your reward?” she asked, as she did once before.

  He brought her small hand to his lips. “Do not tempt me to breach the trust you have placed in me, your self-appointed but temporary guardian.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A fountain splashed into a marble basin. The scent of roses and lilies filled the air surrounding the bench where Juliana sat next to Gervaise. Yet, despite the beautiful garden basking in sunshine, Juliana sighed. Why did Gervaise not kiss her in spite of her encouragement? When he released her hand, she sighed again, and scanned the planes of his inscrutable face. What would the touch of his lips on hers be like?

  “Why are you looking at me so strangely, Juliana? Have I offended you?”

  “No.” It would be improper to reveal her desire, so she changed the topic of their conversation. “I am a little frightened.”

  “By me?”

  She dismissed all thought of kisses. “No, I fear my half-brother, who is never far from my mind. While you were away, as I said earlier, Dick came to The Grange to tell me William knows where I am. I wanted to go to Riverside Village to search for the record of my parents’ marriage, but did not dare to, because I thought William might be on his way here.” She shivered. “I hope he does not come, but I am frightened that he will.” A prolonged sigh escaped her before she continued. “Do you think I am a coward to fear a confrontation with him?”

  “No one of sound mind would want to confront Lord Kemp. Indeed, I would be frightened if a fat brute of a gentleman had forced me to run away from home, taken possession of my clothes and most of my other belongings, and tried to abduct me, as well as possibly cheating me out of my property by forging a will.”

  “I cannot imagine you being afraid of anything,” she said with absolute conviction.

  “You are mistaken, Juliana. In India, I was often terrified. After all, who would not be terrified by the idea of becoming a Bengal tiger’s supper? Although those big cats are magnificent, they are no less conniving than pet cats. I have even heard of cunning tigers backtracking to hunt their stalker, without the poor devil being aware of it.”

  “William is not stealthy. He charges like a bull. That is why I am almost certain he will come here.”

  “Shush!” Gervaise stroked her cheek with his forefinger. “We shall be ready to face him.”

  “We? I cannot allow you to fight any more of my battles.”

  His tender smile tugged at her heart. “Why? Have I not told you before that I am yours to command?”

  His close proximity, coupled with the fragrance of his toilet water, a spicy blend with a hint of lemon and sandalwood, caused a pleasurable thrill. Oh, how she longed to kiss him.

  Gervaise’s eyes gleamed with fierce light. Juliana’s heartbeat increased. Would he not take her into his arms?

  Gervaise stood and inclined his head. “Forgive me, I must leave.”

  Unable to account
for his sudden departure, she watched him stride back to the house. Her hand tingled to touch his thick chestnut hair gleaming in the sunlight. .

  The dear fool, did he not understand she craved his kisses? Men could court ladies without censure. So why must an unwritten rule dictate that respectable ladies must not make a romantic advance toward a gentleman? What would Gervaise think of her if she revealed her heart to him? Her head drooped. She must curb her secret desires for, at the moment, she did not have even a modest dowry to offer him.

  * * * *

  Gervaise hurried to the house. Angered by his indecision, he gripped his hands behind his back. Why did he fluctuate like a weather vane, unable to decide whether or not he wanted to marry Juliana?

  She ought to have a suitor with an unsullied past instead of a man such as himself. A widower who had once dallied with many women, and then, instead of marrying a Christian lady, had given himself body and soul to his Hindu wife. Juliana did not deserve a man whose heart constantly dwelt on his love for his late wife, and the finality of her slight body, cremated on her funeral pyre. The words “‘dust to dust, ashes to ashes” had assumed dreadful reality by the time the soaring flames died down on the banks of the Ganges, the river Hindus venerated.

  He paused on the doorstep leading into The Grange, shocked by the sudden realisation that his grief, which had been his constant companion for so long, had lessened.

  Gervaise closed his eyes. He tried to reconstruct his dear wife’s face, with skin the pale gold of a harvest moon, but he could only visualise Juliana’s face, with its pink and white complexion that rivalled lilies and roses. He sighed, the strings of his heart tugging in opposite directions while he remembered his dead love’s almond-shaped brown eyes, which had not been as dark as Juliana’s large ones. Moreover, unlike Juliana’s coal-black profusion of curls fragranced with lavender, his wife’s lightly oiled hair, perfumed with the jasmine flowers she tucked behind her ears, hung in a thick, glossy black plait, down her back.

  Forgive me, he thought, as a sari clad figure formed in his mind’s eye. Pardon me, my beloved. If you were still at my side, I would never notice another lady, let alone be unfaithful in mind or deed.

  Love? Could he love Juliana as much as he once loved his late wife?

  Juliana’s musical voice recalled him to the present. “Gervaise, please let me pass.”

  Surprised, because he had not heard her follow him, he stepped aside to make way for her to enter the house.

  * * * *

  “Lord Kemp presents his compliments to Mistress Kemp,” announced the butler on the following afternoon.

  For a moment, Juliana feared she would be sick.

  From where she sat on a rug spread in the dappled shade of an oak tree, she glanced at Gervaise, who lounged in the blazing sun.

  He raised his eyebrows, but she did not respond to his silent question. Instead, she stared at Gervaise’s raspberry-red satin coat, hanging on the back of a garden chair. His removal of the garment was a concession to the unseasonably scorching summer heat, in which he seemed to delight. Perhaps he missed India’s brilliant sunshine.

  “Do you wish to receive his lordship, Juliana?” asked Barbara, who sat next to Ralph on a wrought-iron bench placed in the shade.

  “Yes.” Juliana tilted her head. She thrust her chin forward, rage replacing her earlier fear. She marvelled again at William’s audacity. How dare he have the gall to claim she and Henrietta were illegitimate? Under English law, her parents’ marriage was legal. She would confront him, secure in the belief that even he would not have the effrontery to abduct her from a house full of people.

  Gervaise stood and then put on his coat before offering her his hand to help her to her feet.

  Once they were out of Ralph and Barbara’s earshot, Juliana permitted Gervaise to guide her to an arbour, clad with fragrant honeysuckle.

  “It will do Lord Kemp no harm to await your convenience,” Gervaise said after they sat down on the wooden bench, partially concealed from observation. “First, we must find out what he wants. If you agree, I shall conceal myself behind the screen in the gold salon for, in future, you might need me to bear testimony to whatever he says.”

  “Thank you. I wonder what he will make of my ace.”

  “Ah, I presume you mean the letter, which I was on my way to deliver to Lord Kemp when I first met you.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  His eyebrows arched. “As I cautioned you once before, it could lead you into danger. On no account, must you mention it to his lordship.”

  “So, in your opinion, Gervaise, the letter is addressed not to my late father, but to my half-brother. If you are right, it means William is a Jacobite.”

  “He may be, yet the letter alone is not proof. It might have been addressed to your father.” Gervaise patted her hand which rested on his satin clad forearm. “For the time being, I suggest you do not tell him about it. He lied, claiming you and your sister are illegitimate. I am sure he would lie about his Jacobite sympathies. Until the final reckoning, I think you should allow him to think he holds the ace.”

  “There will be a final reckoning, will there not?” Juliana stated slowly.

  “You may rest assured that there will be,” Gervaise replied, so stark an expression on his face that Juliana almost pitied anyone with the temerity to cross him.

  * * * *

  To present an appearance of indifference to William’s presence, Juliana forced herself to set dainty stitches in her intricate embroidery, a stumpwork depiction of Riverside House.

  William advanced across the oak floor of the gold salon, aptly named after the colour of the brocade curtains, damask upholstery, and a profusion of gilt-framed paintings.

  To express her contempt, Juliana neither rose to curtsey—in response to William’s bow—nor ordered wine and sweet biscuits. Instead, she remained on her chair at one side of the marble fireplace. William loomed over her. “Sister?”

  “William?”

  He looked pointedly at the chair opposite her before he cleared his throat.

  She regarded him without blinking.

  He tugged the silver fringes of his green gloves, held in his hands. “My dear Juliana, Sophia asked me to apologise to you for my treatment of you and Henrietta. She made me acknowledge my errors.”

  Juliana did not believe him, but in spite of her suspicion, she kept herself well in hand. “I did not know you could be so humble, William.”

  “I should not have sought to banish you and Henrietta from Riverside House. I admit it was wrong of me to try to kidnap you,” he ground out, the expression in his eyes as cold as frost.

  She looked down her nose. “I accept your apology. Now leave. I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Look at me,” William snapped. “I have much more to say to you.”

  Impatient for him to reveal the purpose of his visit, she maintained an illusion of calm by threading her needle with silk as black as William’s heart.

  His jaw thrust forward, William clasped his hands behind his back before walking around the salon. “You asked me to put aside our differences for Father’s sake,” he said when he stood before her again. “It is ungracious of me to refuse.”

  She noted how much weight he had lost. Why? Was he ill? Could his altered appearance be caused by fear of his lies being revealed?

  Once more William cleared his throat. “It is, as Sophia made plain to me, my duty to take care of you and Henrietta and—”

  “You claimed we are bastards, and said we have no right to ask you for anything,” Juliana broke in, extending her needle like an angry cat’s claw.

  “Um, yes, but I have realised Father would never have rejected you and Henrietta, therefore it is now my duty to provide for both of you.”

  She did not believe he was sincere. Her contempt swelled. “Pray tell me how you intend to make provision for us.”

  His smile pushed his cheeks up into a semblance of their former plumpnes
s. “As our father would have done, I will arrange an advantageous marriage for you, and restore Henrietta to her former place at Riverside.”

  Juliana put her embroidery on her lap. “’Pon my word, I scarce believe your heart has undergone such a transformation. I trust you do not intend to banish Henrietta to the nursery again, and keep her short of food as you and Sophia did before.”

  He scowled. “Gad, you have always had a sarcastic tongue, but I assure you there is no need to employ it now. Indeed, you should be grateful to me. I have arranged a splendid match for you.”

  “To whom?”

  “Ravenstock, Viscount Ravenstock.”

  Fists clenched, she sprang to her feet. “How dare you? How could you suggest I marry that contemptible man! He has killed many innocents in duels, and does not deserve to be classed as a gentleman. Do you know it is even said that after he kills his victim, he jokes about his prowess with swords and firearms? I shall never wed such a man.”

  William glared at her. “If your future husband whips you, it will be no more than you deserve. What is more, do not be so sure you will never marry Ravenstock. I have the means to force your hand.”

  Glaring at him, Juliana flung her embroidery to the floor. “I doubt it, William.”

  “No matter how much you object, you shall be the Countess of Ravenstock.”

  She gazed at the screen in the far corner of the salon behind which Gervaise stood. With the hope that William had not noticed her momentary abstraction, she hastily looked elsewhere. “Nothing you say can persuade me to agree.”

  He grinned, a sly expression in his eyes. “You shall become his wife, for I have an advantage over you.”

  “You lie.”

  William snorted. “My trump is Henrietta. She is in my custody. Needless to say, you will never see her again if you do not obey me.”