by Georgie Lee
The trees were a whirl of green, gold and brown on either side of them as the horse hurried on. Then at last they began to thin and the faint outline of Huntford Place appeared through the naked branches up ahead. The red brick was dulled by years of dirt and weather and covered by ivy turning brown with the coming winter. Joanna sat up straighter in the saddle as Major Preston tugged the horse into a walk, ending the heady exhilaration of their ride.
‘I’ll leave you here.’ He pulled the horse to a halt and leaned into her one last time before dismounting. He reached up and she slid into his outstretched hands, exhaling as he gripped her hard about the waist. As her feet touched the ground, the horse shifted, knocking her into his chest. She clutched his waist to steady herself and his fingers stiffened on her. The pungent scent of leather and cedar clung to him, heightened by the subtle press of his hips against hers. Her insides ached with their closeness and she wished she could climb back up in the saddle with him and be like Grace and ignore all the consequences, but she couldn’t. Despite Grace having been so happy during those brief months with her young man, in the end her passion had caused her more heartache than joy. The same thing would happen to Joanna if she forgot herself with Major Preston. Things were difficult enough without her making them worse.
Joanna stepped out of his grasp, recovering her sense of decorum. ‘Thank you, Major Preston, for everything, but I must go.’
‘Don’t allow Miss Huntford or any of them to push you around, or make you feel low,’ he encouraged. ‘You’re better and smarter than any of them.’
She shrugged. ‘And yet they pay my wages.’
‘Which, if I know Sir Rodger, are poor.’
She couldn’t stop the laugh which sprang out of her. ‘Beyond meagre.’
‘Then you have little to lose by telling Sir Rodger the truth about what his progeny are up to?’
She sobered at his suggestion. ‘You’re wrong. I have a great deal to lose by telling him things he doesn’t wish to hear.’
‘There were many senior officers who didn’t want to hear what I had to say and I still told them. It benefited me, and them, more than it hurt me. It could do the same for you.’
‘Says a gentleman with family and some station. We aren’t all so fortunate.’
Instead of chastising her for rebuking him, he smiled as though he’d won a victory. ‘I was worried they’d crush someone as insightful and genuine as you, but I see you have great strength. You’ll do well, Miss Radcliff, I have no doubt of it.’
She didn’t share his confidence and, with a half-smile of regret, she hurried off to the house. The closer she drew to it, the more the delight of being with Major Preston faded. Despite his faith in her, and Vicar Carlson’s suggestions, she wasn’t sure all would be well. Major Preston was correct, she should speak up about the girls’ behaviour, but she couldn’t. Isabel used to speak up and all it ever did was get her in trouble. It wasn’t like Joanna to do the same and she wouldn’t. Silence had served her well in the past and it would do so again. It would allow her to keep her position and make Madame Dubois proud.
* * *
Luke didn’t call Miss Radcliff back. In the Army, he’d been governed by the hours of camp life and regulations. He might be done with them now, but Miss Radcliff wasn’t free of those commanding her. Luke stepped back into Duke’s saddle, but didn’t ride for home until Miss Radcliff was out of the woods, across the lawn and inside Huntford Place. Even then he lingered, watching the dark and obscured windows, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. All borrowed traces of the debutante from last night had been scrubbed from her as she’d stood in a sturdy grey pelisse and half-boots, but it hadn’t dimmed her natural beauty. It wasn’t the wisdom she’d offered him which kept him riveted to the old house, but the impression of her body against his. It left him so agitated it made Duke dance and snort beneath him.
When he’d grabbed her by the waist in the woods, he’d thought of nothing but saving her from being struck by Edward’s horse. When she’d pressed back into him, her buttocks shifting against his thighs as she’d peered up at him, her rose-coloured lips parted in surprise and wanting, he’d almost forgotten himself. Once he’d let go of her, he’d dismissed his reaction as the natural response of a man to a beautiful woman after so much time without one. Then she’d tripped on the rock.
He opened and closed his fingers over the reins, the weight of the leather insignificant compared to the memory of Miss Radcliff in his arms. Her near pitch into the water had frightened him the way one of his men rushing headlong into a barrage used to do. He’d wanted to protect her from the sharp rocks as much as he wanted to shield her from the petty meanness of the Huntfords, but he couldn’t, nor was it his place to do so.
He jerked Duke round and kicked him into a gallop. The tightness of his thighs against the horse’s flanks, his body hunched low over the animal’s neck, helped stave off the tension coiling inside him. The weight of Miss Radcliff, the arch of her back over his arm had been as natural as his coat across his shoulders. Her stunning blue eyes had held his, sparkling like the water flowing behind her. It had taken every ounce of strength he’d possessed to set her upright and lead her to the bank instead of claiming her lips, but he’d had no choice. He wasn’t Lieutenant Foreman, ready to ruin a young lady of lesser rank to satisfy his desires, nor would he allow emotion to guide him. Even in the heat of battle he’d made every decision based on facts, the lay of the land, the strength of his troops and the French’s, not fear or panic. He’d do the same here.
Up ahead, the road forked. Luke pulled Duke to a stop, making the horse rear up at the sudden command before dropping down on to all fours. The path going left led to Lord Helmsworth’s. The one pointing right went back to Pensum Manner. His brother’s accusations, the desire to show Edward he was wrong and for Luke to achieve something of merit while he was here almost made him turn left. Edward was the one person who could undermine Luke’s sense of reason and make him react with his gut instead of his logic. Today it was Luke’s command over his emotions as much as Miss Radcliff’s advice about family which made Luke tug Duke to the right and head for home. It would sting like hell to endure Edward’s glee at Luke not meeting with Lord Helmsworth, but he’d let him rejoice and not say a word. Miss Radcliff was right, it was time to focus on what was important and end the old rivalry. Luke might not have returned home on his terms, but he’d returned. It was more than the many men lying in graves in Spain could say. Besides, there was always tomorrow to approach Lord Helmsworth and perhaps see Miss Radcliff again.
* * *
Lord Johan Helmsworth strode through the massive front doors of Helmsworth Manor. The meeting with the young lady in the graveyard had nagged at him during the entire ride home. Her image continued to haunt him beneath the frieze of Apollo in the entrance hall, past the paintings of the former Marquises filling the long main hall. Half of them watched him with the vivid blue eyes so prevalent in the family, Miss Radcliff’s eyes.
He clasped his hands behind his back and knocked the single ring he wore on each hand together in time to his steps. In Miss Radcliff’s trusting, oval face, he’d caught a glimpse of his past. Memories of carrying Jane high on his shoulders while he’d showed her the horses in the stable rushed back to him as strong as the smell of cut hay in the fields carrying in through the open windows. When he’d sat with Miss Radcliff, giving her advice, it had reminded him of the time he’d sat with his daughter explaining to her how the little spaniel she’d loved was gone, not destined to live as long as her. In the end, she hadn’t lived as long as she should have either.
He paused in the hallway and rested one hand on a side table to brace himself. The pain was as fresh today as nineteen years ago when she’d passed. It didn’t send him into dark moods like it used to, but it still hadn’t eased after all this time.
The shifting of papers in the s
tudy up ahead forced him to take hold of himself. Straightening, he took a deep breath and strode inside.
‘Lord Helmsworth, you’ve returned. We need to discuss the issue of the property dispute with the Inghams,’ Mr Browning, the bespectacled solicitor, greeted, setting aside a leather satchel filled with the business he intended to discuss with Johan during their regular meeting. ‘I received a letter from Major Preston. He’d like to speak with you in regards to the issue of the river land.’
‘The young whelp returns home and thinks he can fix twenty years of troubles,’ Johan grumbled, in no mood to entertain the Inghams’ whining on today of all days.
‘This issue has gone on for entirely too long.’
‘And it will continue. I won’t have one of those Inghams in here thinking he can steal my land from me, no matter how many medals he wears.’ He thumped the top of a burled escritoire as he passed it. ‘I lost enough to an Army man nineteen years ago. I won’t lose more.’
Johan stopped in the centre of the room and stared up at the portrait of his daughter and wife together in front of a view of the columned entrance to Helmsworth Manor. It had been painted the year before his wife had died, when Jane was eight. Beside it was a small portrait of Jane at seventeen, the year she’d come out. She was resplendent in her pink gown, the sash of which curled around her shoulders as if caught in a breeze. She smiled with all the expectation of a young lady poised to find her place in society. It was a far cry from the one who’d stood in here railing at him a mere six months later. They’d argued fiercely after Johan had withheld his permission for Jane to marry. Being under twenty-one, she’d needed it. Unlike her, Johan had seen through Captain Handler’s designs on her and her fortune and had cut her off, hoping it would end things. It had only made her more obstinate in her desire for the wretched man and her stubbornness had increased his. All Johan’s attempts to make her listen and obey had, in the end, driven her to run away with the Captain. He hadn’t wanted to deny her love, but to keep her safe from the heartbreak and ruin she’d ultimately suffered. He’d failed.
The old guilt washed over him, joined by another. He shouldn’t have impersonated a man of the cloth, or lied to Miss Radcliff simply to speak with her, but it had been necessary. If he’d revealed his true identity, Miss Radcliff would’ve dipped curtsies as though he were a king, mumbled her apologies and kept quiet. The young lady had spoken with him like Jane used to do before she’d turned against him in favour of the wicked spendthrift Captain Handler.
‘Let’s get to our business.’ The leather armchair by the fire crinkled beneath Johan’s weight as he sank into it. He motioned for Mr Browning to take the less worn one across from him.
The solicitor obliged, setting his satchel on the floor beside him and removing a few papers. ‘Lord Faston has vacated the London town house. I’ll advertise for a new tenant, unless you intend to go to London soon. I understand Parliament is poised to convene a special session to deal with the Luddite uprisings in the north.’
‘I haven’t taken my seat in the House of Lords for nearly twenty years. I have no intention of doing so now. Go ahead and let it,’ Johan answered with a flick of his hand, unwilling to reside in the London house even for the King. The stately home in Grosvenor Square had been his wife’s before she’d married him and he’d retained it partly for the rent, but mostly because he couldn’t bear to let it go. He’d intended it as a wedding present for Jane. How he wished his wife had been alive to guide their daughter through the pitfalls of men and balls. Johan hadn’t had the talent for it.
‘You seem troubled, my lord. Is there anything I may do?’ The fortyish Mr Browning had assumed his father’s clients when the elder man, who’d been with Johan for years, had at last grown too old to oversee the affairs. The son was sharp and as good a sounding board as his father had been.
‘I had a strange encounter today.’ Johan pressed his fingertips together in front of his face. ‘I met a young woman while I was at the vicarage. The instant I saw her, I thought she was Jane. You would’ve, too, if you’d seen her. She had Jane’s eyes, the Helmsworth eyes.’
The papers went limp in Mr Browning’s hands. ‘A girl with the Helmsworth eyes?’
‘Yes. The resemblance was remarkable.’ And unsettling. He’d gone to the graveyard as he always did on Jane’s birthday. He hadn’t expected to be startled by what he’d first thought was a ghost, nor had he been afraid. For a moment he’d rejoiced, thinking the longed-for reconciliation would finally come to pass. Then the sweet young girl had proven she was as real as him.
‘What was her first name?’ Mr Browning asked, sliding forward on to the edge of his seat.
‘I don’t know, she only told me she is Miss Radcliff.’
‘How old was she?’
‘Nineteen.’
The room grew quiet, filling with the crackle of the fire in the grate. Mr Browning, for the first time in a long time, did not continue with his business or offer Johan advice. Johan regarded the man who sat staring at the flames. He was deep in contemplation, fingers against his chin, and it wasn’t over leases or rent.
‘What is it, Mr Browning?’ Johan prodded.
The solicitor dropped his hand and faced his employer, more serious than Johan had ever seen him before. ‘There’s something I must tell you, Lord Helmsworth. Afterwards, you may view me, your daughter and everything in a different light.’
The younger man had been friends with Jane in her youth, one of the few gentlemen Johan had trusted around his headstrong daughter once she’d entered society. Mr Browning had been too in love with the woman who’d become his wife for Johan to worry about his falling for Jane. He wondered if he’d been mistaken about the young man. ‘Then don’t tell me. I’m burdened with enough troubles already.’
‘I must, because I can’t help but feel it somehow involves what you’ve told me about the young lady you encountered.’
Johan picked at the nail-head trim on the arm of his chair. ‘How so?’
Mr Browning cleared his throat once, then again before at last finding his voice. ‘Lord Helmsworth, the day before Jane died, she summoned me on the pretext of preparing her will. During our interview, she told me the truth about her illness. She didn’t die of an infectious fever, but childbed fever. A few days before she’d returned to you, she’d given birth to a little girl. It was why she wouldn’t allow Dr Scopes to examine her when she fell ill. She was afraid he would notice. She hadn’t realised the severity of her illness.’
Johan’s fingers dug into the cracked leather as the room around him shook with the man’s revelation. Jane had had a child and she hadn’t told him. He sank back against the chair, the distance between him and his precious daughter seeming to reopen. ‘Why didn’t she tell me?’
Mr Browning tapped his knee, pausing before he continued. ‘I urged her to, but she refused, afraid you’d reject her again. She thought she would recover and then once you two were properly reconciled, she could reveal the truth to you. Despite your objections to Captain Handler, and your falling out, she never stopped loving you. She even named her baby girl Joanna, after you.’
Johan dropped his head in his hands and closed his eyes, struggling to hold back his anguish. Even in the end when her life had been in peril, she’d still held back from him, afraid he would push her away again. Losing Jane had ripped his heart from him. Having her come home to die a few days later had left the rift between them unsettled for good, until now. He looked up at the younger man. ‘What happened to the baby?’
‘I don’t know. Captain Handler was killed in battle in Europe before he and Jane could marry, leaving her with child and penniless in Austria. She found her way back to England, landing in Portsmouth. She had the child somewhere near Salisbury and entrusted it to an officer’s wife who’d helped her in her travails before Jane continued on to here. She’d hoped after reconc
iling with you to return for the baby, but she never had the chance. It was her dying wish I find the child and see to its future. I did my best, but the officer’s wife, Mrs White, had left with her husband to rejoin his regiment in Austria. Her husband died in battle. I don’t know what happened to Mrs White, or the child. I’d intended to find the girl and bring her to your attention, but when I was unable to discover anything and you being in such deep mourning, I didn’t wish to make matters worse.’
Johan understood and couldn’t blame the solicitor for acting the way he had. It had been a year after Jane’s death before he’d been able to leave Helmsworth Manor, his grief consuming him until his sister, and many others, feared he might harm himself. To discover there’d been a granddaughter, one he couldn’t find, might have pushed him over the edge he’d feared crossing for so long.
He was no longer the same broken and sad father, but an old man in his dotage who could right some of the old wrongs.
‘I want you to investigate Miss Radcliff’s background and see if there’s any connection between her and this Mrs White. If I have a granddaughter, whether she’s legitimate or not, I want to know about it.’ He’d failed Jane during the last year of her life, driving her away with his anger. He would do right by her child.
CHAPTER FIVE
Joanna watched from the third floor schoolroom window as Lady Huntford’s house party guests began to arrive. Behind her, the girls sat around the table reading aloud from a French grammar book. A line of carriages stood in the drive, the horses kicking up pebbles and dust. One by one, each vehicle pulled up to the door and discharged its passengers, who greeted Lady Huntford and Frances with smiles, hugs and loud chatter.
