‘I do think of my child,’ countered Henrietta, ‘for my child needs a mother who is happy and content. Is that not true, Hubert?’
Sensing the trap, her husband refused to intervene in the debate between his wife and his mother, muttering about his having no opinion on female matters and inviting them instead to admire his new waistcoat.
Harry, who had been watching the by-play with amusement, immediately caught Juliana’s gaze. She could not resist letting him know, with a wry smile, her opinion of Hubert’s waistcoat. His eyes danced in response.
They had developed something of a truce, she and Harry. He flirted less often—though seemed incapable of quitting completely. In response, Juliana was less antagonistic. Neither had spoken of that strange moment in the hall. Now they were wary, a little guarded, but much friendlier in their everyday relations.
As Henrietta, Charlotte and Millicent began to discuss mutual acquaintances, fuelled by an enquiry from Henrietta as to who was in town, Juliana stole a glance at her mother. She sat on an upright chair near the door, her hands resting in her lap and with an air of serenity about her. Juliana was not fooled by this. Her mother had not revealed the reason for her distress the day the Etheringtons had first called and refused even to discuss the incident. There was no more talk of returning to Brussels—though Juliana had offered this, should Mama truly want it. With Napoleon gathering his armies again, Mrs Milford said, she could not consider putting Juliana in danger.
‘As if I should care about that, when you are unhappy, Mama!’ Juliana had said.
‘I am not unhappy,’ Mama countered quietly.
‘But you are not happy, Mama.’
‘And what of it? I am content. I long ago accepted my fate.’
‘What do you mean?’ Juliana was perplexed. ‘What fate?’
‘I do not wish to discuss it. Now, where is my Indian shawl?’
And that was it. She would not be moved. Juliana had noticed, though, that she went out less frequently, preferring to keep to the house or the garden, often pleading ‘tiredness’ or ‘a headache’ when the others went shopping, walking or visiting. In the evenings she stayed with Clara, saying she had no taste for soirées and balls. She seemed outwardly content, but Juliana was not convinced.
‘It is so unfair that I am not permitted to dance, just because I am increasing,’ said Henrietta petulantly.
‘Oh, Henrietta, please tell me you will not even consider it!’ said her mother-in-law, shocked.
‘Well, I suppose I must concede, though I do think it is stupid. After the baby is born I will go dancing immediately.’
As Mrs Etherington gasped in horror, her son intervened in the growing argument. ‘I have it!’
They all looked expectantly at Hubert. ‘The theatre! We shall all go to the theatre.’
‘Hubert, what a wonderful idea!’ cried Henrietta, clapping her hands. ‘You are the cleverest person in the world!’
Hubert accepted the accolade with equanimity, clearly in agreement with his wife’s assessment of his intellectual capacity. Juliana couldn’t resist glancing at Harry. Sure enough, he was awaiting her gaze and once again they shared their appreciation of Hubert and Henrietta’s absurdity. Juliana broke eye contact first, suddenly perturbed by how attuned she was to him. It would not do! She had responsibilities and could not afford to be diverted by a friendship where she was unsure if she could truly trust the other person.
As the conversation washed over her—they were all discussing which performance to attend, and when—she considered the matter. Harry was, in many ways, no different to many other men of her acquaintance. He charmed and flirted, praised and complimented, playing the game of courtship without, she had noted, getting too close to any particular young lady. So why was it he irritated her so much? Why did she object so much to his easy charm? When she met other men at Almack’s or at private balls, she was happy to play the game of flirtation and thought no less of herself or the men who tried to charm her. So how was it that Harry could rouse her to anger so quickly, by flirting with her or another young lady?
The answer, she felt, was connected to the strange affinity she felt for him. Charlotte said he had a good heart. Juliana had been forced to acknowledge it—she had seen his genuine concern for Mama and remembered his compassion for the housekeeper at Glenbrook Hall. It was as though there were two of him, she mused. There was his public face—the charming, shallow flirt. But there was also, she felt, a kinder, more serious person who was hidden from view. She looked at him. Like her, he was taking no part in the conversation just now, but was listening contentedly. His handsome face was relaxed and open, and she was sure that a witty remark or warm compliment was only a moment from his lips. She knew him so well!
Suddenly, looking at him, she was assailed by a strange burning sensation in her chest. It reminded her of the warmth she felt for those she was close to—Mama and Charlotte—but the scale of it was much more intense. If the warmth she felt for them was a banked fire, what she was feeling just now was a furnace.
Discomfited, she raised a hand to her breastbone, as if by pressing it she could quell the feeling flowing through her. What did it mean?
Lord! She hoped no one would notice what was happening to her. Dropping her hand, she schooled her features into polite indifference. She sneaked a look around the room. No one was paying her any attention, thank goodness.
The door opened. More visitors! At this rate they would soon run out of chairs. The footman held the door, announcing the latest arrival. ‘General Hunter!’
Chapter Ten
General Hunter strode into the room, his tall, imposing figure seeming to shrink the space. In daylight, his gaunt, lined face and morose expression seemed even more marked. He wore plain pantaloons, gleaming Hessians and a well-cut black coat, in the style favoured by older gentlemen. His demeanour bore the hallmarks of a military life and the authority of command.
Harry stood immediately, offering his hand. ‘General Hunter! I am happy to see you, sir!’
The General shook his hand unsmilingly. ‘Fanton.’
Harry made the introductions. ‘My brother, Lord Shalford. His wife, Lady Shalford.’
The General shook Adam’s hand and bowed to Charlotte. His expression was inscrutable, and Juliana wondered about the reason for his visit. There had been something unspoken between him and Harry, that night at Almack’s—a reference to shared memories that had seemed important to both of them. Was that why the General was making a house call to a family that he was clearly not well acquainted with?
Adam took over the introductions. ‘General, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. May I introduce our guests?’
General Hunter cast an eye over the room. His gaze paused briefly when he reached Juliana, then moved on. ‘Please do,’ he said evenly, ‘though I already know the Etheringtons—’ he bowed ‘—and Elizabeth.’
What? He knows Mama?
Juliana was shocked. She looked at her mother. She was pale as a ghost and her hands were shaking. Once again, her mother was reacting with fear. Juliana did not understand why; she simply knew she must protect her from all harm.
Adam smoothed over the moment, saying only, ‘Excellent—I will not introduce Mrs Milford to you then. Are you acquainted with Miss Milford?’
The General’s eyes blazed into hers. ‘We have met,’ he said curtly, bowing his head towards Juliana.
Juliana dipped in the smallest of curtsies, aware that all eyes were on her and her mother. Though she did not understand exactly what was happening, she would be equal to it. She lifted her chin and eyed the General levelly. She would not be intimidated!
‘This is my great-aunt, Miss Langley, and my sister, Olivia.’ Adam’s voice diverted the General’s attention to the others in the room. The General bowed to the ladies. Charlotte then bade him sit and offered him tea, which
he declined.
There was a tense silence in the drawing room. The expressions on everyone’s face showed various forms of confusion. Harry had described General Hunter as eccentric. Well, he was certainly that!
Surprisingly, it was Mrs Etherington who eased the situation. ‘General Hunter, I declare we have not seen you for an age! What do you think about this new turnpike road they are building in Kent?’
‘The state of the roads is abominable,’ said the General curtly. ‘I do not mind paying a toll if it means my wheels do not get stuck every winter!’
‘I must say I agree with you, General. I know not why they must riot about it!’
‘Oh, those awful people!’ said Millicent crossly. ‘Do you know they threw mud at my coach last week?’
Henrietta agreed. ‘And they tried to break the toll gate near our village.’
Despite being distracted, Juliana was intrigued by this. ‘Why are people rioting?’
Charlotte explained diplomatically. ‘Each time a new turnpike trust is set up, a free road becomes a toll road and often the local people don’t like it.’
‘Well, that is understandable, surely. Why should they pay a toll for something that has always been free and open?’
General Hunter’s eyes narrowed. ‘Because, Miss Milford, the road will be improved with the toll money. Holes will be filled, milestones posted and the rules of the road will be enforced. If people would all keep their carriages to the left, I dare say we would not have so many accidents.’
Juliana was undaunted. ‘What about the poorest people? How do they pay?’
General Hunter looked taken aback for an instant, then shrugged. ‘It is not a large amount. I had not thought much about it.’
That does not surprise me, thought Juliana. She had the bit between her teeth now and was enjoying standing up to the overbearing General. He had aroused her ire by making Mama feel uncomfortable. Well, she would not be so easily cowed!
‘Well, someone should think about it! The poorest villagers may not be able to afford even a small toll. There ought to be some sort of free passage for those living in the area.’
The General looked at her with interest. ‘And how, Miss Milford, do you propose enforcing this?’ His tone was deceptively mild. ‘For any token would be abused and sold on.’
Across the room, Juliana caught Harry’s gaze. He looked like he was quite enjoying her exchange with the irascible General. His look contained admiration, more than a little confusion, and something else...something she could not quite fathom.
She turned her attention back to her adversary. ‘For shame, General Hunter. As a great leader, you can surely see the obvious solution!’
Perhaps I should not have referred to him as a great leader, she thought. He is clever enough to detect my meaning.
‘Enlighten me.’ His face was impressively grim.
Juliana shrugged. ‘Leave it to the gatekeeper. Locals will always be known at the toll gate.’
The General laughed briefly, a sharp bark. ‘You speak your opinions without fear, Miss Milford.’
‘And why should I fear speaking my opinion?’ she threw back at him, undaunted. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a shocked expression on Millicent’s face. It encouraged her to be even more reckless. ‘I have a heart, and a brain, and a stomach, and I have a taste for debate. Why should I remain silent?’
‘Others may disagree with you,’ he said, but there was a gleam in his eye. ‘Or they might think such strong opinions not suitable for so young a person. Particularly for a young lady.’
She tossed her head. ‘I like it when others disagree with me. I enjoy the battle and sometimes I learn new things that way.’
‘Your way of learning is most unusual,’ he muttered thoughtfully. ‘A spirited character through and through—I admit to being surprised, Elizabeth.’
Everyone looked at Mrs Milford. She still seemed unable to speak, but nodded mutely, clearly desperate for him to take everyone’s attention away from her.
‘It has been some time since we were last in company together. Might I have a word with you in private?’ The General was addressing Mrs Milford.
Her jaw dropped and a look of sheer panic came over her face. Juliana had to intervene.
‘Mama, you are unwell! I shall take you to your room.’ She moved quickly to her mother’s side. Her mother rose immediately and squeezed Juliana’s hand gratefully.
‘General, I am sure you will excuse Mrs Milford,’ said Harry calmly. ‘She is clearly unwell.’
General Hunter frowned. ‘Very well, Elizabeth. But you cannot avoid me for ever, now I have found you.’
Juliana’s mother did not respond. And the last thing Juliana saw as she left the parlour was the General’s piercing gaze.
* * *
‘And your mother will not tell you anything?’
‘Nothing. She is clearly troubled, but she will not let me help her.’
Juliana and Harry were walking arm in arm through Green Park. Ahead of them, Charlotte and Adam meandered happily along the path, oblivious to everything except each other.
This was becoming quite a habit. The four of them would walk out together, but would then immediately break into couples, which left Juliana spending much of her time with Harry. With Charlotte and Adam still acting as newlyweds and Mama so distant, Juliana was conscious she was becoming accustomed to sharing her worries with Harry. Relying on him was becoming rather a habit with her, since the drama with the General. He seemed genuinely interested and concerned. Indeed, she believed he truly cared about Mama. When he acted like this he was dangerous to her peace of mind, precisely because he ceased his irritating flirtation. This Harry was hard to resist. If pressed, she would be forced to admit she counted him her friend.
Mama was resolutely refusing to explain how she knew General Hunter, and became so distressed when probed that Juliana had—for now—admitted defeat. Mama now kept to her room during many visits and refused to leave it. She was becoming a recluse and dwindling before Juliana’s eyes.
‘What do you know of your mother’s life before her marriage?’
‘Very little.’
‘Your father?’
‘I know almost nothing about my father, how they met, or where. He died soon after I was born.’
‘Pardon me for all these questions, but—what of your mother’s family?’
‘Again, I know almost nothing. They were wealthy, I think. Mama once referred to a plan they had to marry her off to a rich, old gentleman, which outraged her because, she said, her family had no need of more wealth.’
‘Hmm. I did wonder...something in the General’s approach to her...’
‘What do you mean?’ Juliana could barely think straight. She was consumed by concern for her mother. ‘Do you think they wanted to marry her to General Hunter? No wonder she ran away!’
He looked at her, then shook his head. ‘No, that wasn’t it. Just a passing notion.’
Ahead of them, Adam and Charlotte stopped to kiss. Juliana glanced sidelong at Harry. He, too, had seen them.
‘Ah.’ Harry raised his voice. ‘Dear brother, can you please confine your...er...marital activities to the...er...marital chamber?’
Despite herself, Juliana giggled. Adam and Charlotte broke off their kiss, Charlotte blushing profusely.
Adam seemed undaunted. ‘I shall thank you, Harry, to keep your opinions to yourself!’ He smiled tenderly at Charlotte. ‘I shall kiss my wife whenever I choose.’
Charlotte returned his smile with a shy one of her own. Juliana felt a sudden ache in her chest, a tightness in her throat. Charlotte was so happy! That was what was different about her now. Happiness surrounded her, like an invisible glow.
As they walked on through the park, Juliana mused on Charlotte and Adam’s evident contentment. Charlotte h
ad found her home—not the elegant London town house, nor the grand country estate. It was Adam. Adam was her home.
Why the thought should make her sad, she simply did not know.
* * *
The new Theatre Royal in Drury Lane had risen from the ashes of the dreadful fire which had put paid to Sheridan’s ambitions, and it had now confirmed its place as London’s leading theatre. The presence of Kean—held to be the greatest actor of his time—meant the theatre had enjoyed continuous success since reopening three years previously. Juliana was fascinated by the huge interior, ornately gilded boxes and elaborate Safety Curtain which had been included to protect the audience from harm.
Their party was large, as it included the Etheringtons—apart from Mrs Etherington, who was at home, enjoying a bout of indigestion. Olivia, Charlotte and Juliana, along with Millicent and Henrietta, were escorted to delicate gilded chairs in the front row of their box. Henrietta asked for a stool for her feet and two cushions, which the footman arranged behind her as directed. Behind the ladies, a row of chairs was arranged for the gentlemen. Hubert and Adam took up the places directly behind their wives, while Harry sat behind Millicent, who was next to Juliana. Alfred Nightingale, Olivia’s poet, had been invited to make up the numbers, as well as Mr Attwood. Juliana was pleased to see Mr Attwood again, despite some gentle teasing earlier from Olivia.
Juliana was pleased with her gown for tonight—a blue silk with pale-blue gauze and a pretty flounce along the hemline. She had added a simple string of pearls, long evening gloves and a delicate painted fan. Mr Attwood had told her she looked beautiful, in a straight, unadorned way, which she appreciated. His words seemed so much more sincere than Harry’s fulsome compliments, which she had received back in the town house before the carriages had been brought round. In addition, Mr Attwood did not make her feel uncomfortable. He was easy company without making her feel anger, or warmth, or anything much at all.
That, she told herself, was exactly what she wanted. She had seen with Mama what happened when someone became lost to their own emotions. Mama had been overwhelmed by her own fear, and fear had become the defining feature of her personality and her character. Juliana adored Mama, but she knew her mother’s life was limited by her many and varied fears and anxieties.
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