Engagement of Convenience

by Georgie Lee

  ‘You sold it,’ Julia choked.

  ‘Yes. A solicitor in London purchased it for his employer. Rowan and I just returned from London this afternoon to see to our things as the new owner wishes to take possession at once. Frankly, I’m glad to be rid of the place. I never did enjoy the country. I always found the society a bit too small.’ Mrs Wilkins sauntered off across the room.

  Anger, hurt, betrayal, disappointment and sorrow all slammed together, making it impossible to think or make any sense of the emotions crushing her. Julia gripped the medal tight, her heart shattering along with her dreams. After everything she’d done, Cable Grange was gone and with it Captain Covington. She forced herself to remain composed, refusing to fall apart in front of everyone who’d seen her so happy only a moment before. She needed somewhere to go, a place to hide, but the crowded room offered no sanctuary.

  Before Julia had a chance to think or clear her mind, the captain appeared at her side. ‘What did she want?’

  ‘To offer her congratulations,’ Julia replied through clenched teeth.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She laid open her palm, revealing the medallion. He turned to where Mrs Wilkins disappeared in the crowd, his eyes narrow with seething hate. ‘That miserable woman. Whatever she told you, it is a lie.’

  ‘Were you with her the other night?’

  ‘Yes, but allow me to explain.’

  She shook her head, the room around her threatening to whirl. If Mrs Wilkins had the audacity to confront her tonight, it wouldn’t be long before she told everyone the story of James’s indiscretion. Moments ago she’d been the belle of the ball; now she’d end the evening the subject of vicious gossip. They’d laugh and say she wasn’t ladylike enough to keep her intended. They’d watch her with a mixture of pity and condescension all because she’d trusted him and allowed herself to believe he loved her. How could she have been so foolish? He’d dallied with Annette in jest, then turned to her when it suited his lust only she’d been too blind to see the truth.

  ‘Please, let’s go outside and discuss this?’ the captain said, taking her elbow.

  ‘Why?’ she retorted. ‘So you may tarnish my reputation further?’

  Before he could answer, a loud gong reverberated through the room. Everyone turned to watch Mr Johnson, accompanied by a servant carrying the gong, step up on the dais in front of the musicians.

  ‘Everyone, please may I have your attention?’ The music trailed off, bringing the dancers to a halt. Whispers swept the room, everyone speculating on what announcement was important enough to interrupt a ball. ‘News has just reached us from London. The British Navy met Napoleon’s fleet at Trafalgar and won a stunning victory.’

  The room erupted in cheers, applause and whistles, but Mr Johnson rang the gong three more times, cutting the excitement short. ‘Britain has also suffered a great loss. Though we won the battle, Admiral Nelson was killed.’

  Men gasped and women burst into tears, the hero’s death touching everyone.

  Uncle George appeared next to Julia. ‘There is other news from London.’

  Fear turned her cold. ‘Paul?’

  ‘Yes, we must return to Knollwood at once. Your mother and Annette have already left. We’ll take my carriage.’

  Uncle George led them through the sober crowd and out of the large front doors to the waiting carriage. Inside, James sat next to her as Uncle George climbed into the seat across from them. He rapped on the roof, setting the carriage in motion.

  ‘Do you know anything?’ Julia asked, barely able to get the words out, her throat dry with dread.

  ‘Only that Charles received a letter concerning Paul. I don’t know the contents. Jim, did you hear anything in town about the battle?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I was too busy this morning and I didn’t see any of the papers before I left London.’

  They fell into worried silence, the jangling equipage grating on her strained nerves. Anticipating the awful news waiting for her at Knollwood made her body shake. Was Paul dead or just badly wounded? What would she do without him, especially now?

  The captain slipped his hand in hers and squeezed it, but she snatched it away, in no mood for his sympathy. She felt him watching her, the weight of his concern adding unwanted tension to her already tormented mind. She scanned the darkness outside the carriage for any landmark indicating their distance from home, but only the vague silhouettes of trees stood out in the dim light of the rising moon. The carriage drove for what felt like an eternity before the bright windows of Knollwood came into view. The moment the carriage stopped, she threw open the door and rushed inside, James and Uncle George close on her heels.

  She hurried into the morning room, taking in Mother, who sat next to Emily, her face a white mask of controlled pain. Annette stood behind them, sombre.

  ‘Is Paul all right?’ Julia asked.

  Mother held out her arms and Julia rushed into them, doing her best to hold back tears of worry.

  ‘He’s alive, but wounded and missing,’ Mother answered and Julia sat back.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Lieutenant Lapenotiere, his commander, sent us a letter. HMS Pickle arrived in Falmouth on Monday. They came home because Lieutenant Lapenotiere was charged with telling the Admiralty about the battle and Admiral Nelson. Paul, because of his wound, rode with Lieutenant Lapenotiere to London to see Dr Childers.’

  ‘Excellent fellow,’ Charles muttered.

  Mother scowled at Charles, then continued her story. ‘They arrived very early this morning and Lieutenant Lapenotiere, after finishing his duties at the Admiralty, paid a call to Dr Childers to make sure Paul was all right. According to Dr Childers, Paul never arrived and now no one knows where he is.’

  ‘Perhaps the wound is worse than he realised and Paul’s in some hospital, alone,’ Julia said worriedly.

  ‘Lieutenant. Lapenotiere doesn’t know and, because of his official duties, he can’t search for Paul. It’s why he sent us an urgent letter suggesting someone from the family come to London at once to find Paul.’

  Julia turned to Charles. ‘When are you leaving?’

  Charles looked aghast. ‘I’m not leaving. I’ve written a few letters and will send them tomorrow.’

  ‘Letters? You’re sending letters?’

  ‘What else would you have me do?’

  ‘Go to London and search every hospital until you find him.’

  ‘Search the hells and coffee houses, you mean,’ Charles scoffed from his place by the fire, tapping the mantel. ‘No doubt instead of going straight to Dr Childers, Paul decided to visit his mistress, or some hell to run up more debts.’

  ‘How can you say such a thing?’ Julia demanded, her voice high and tight. Only the firm squeeze of her mother’s hand prevented her from hurling more words at Charles.

  ‘I can say it because I’ve spent more time than I care to admit dealing with our brother’s creditors. Now, through his foolishness, he’s gone and got himself in another mess.’

  ‘He’s wounded. He may be ill and in need of our help. Now is no time to preach about his responsibilities.’

  ‘Why not? He’s a grown man and it’s time he took them seriously.’ Charles snatched up the poker and jabbed at the logs. ‘Besides, Paul has a talent for surviving and for trouble. He’s sure to turn up soon.’

  Julia stood, balling her fists at her sides to keep from pounding them against Charles’s unfeeling chest. ‘London and all your airs have made you hard.’

  ‘You don’t understand the ways of the world,’ he replied with marked condescension, returning the poker to the stand.

  ‘I quite agree with Julia.’ Her mother rose, pinning Charles with angry eyes. ‘You have become too hard for my liking.’

  ‘Mother, please, you misunderstood
my meaning,’ Charles began, but his mother raised a silencing hand, then swept out of the room.

  Charles chased after her, his weak protests trailing them both down the hall.

  Julia dropped into a chair, biting her thumb. Across the room, Uncle George and Captain Covington stood by the fireplace, each contemplating the evening’s news. Her eyes briefly met the captain’s, their blue depths filled with a need she would not answer.

  Paul wasn’t dead, but wounded, and Charles had no intention of helping him. She knew the condition of hospitals and how a healthy man could easily succumb to illness while a wounded one stood almost no chance of recovering. Paul must be found and brought back to Knollwood to be cared for properly, not left to die in who knew what squalor.

  ‘Charles will find him. Everything will be all right—you’ll see,’ Emily offered, patting Julia’s shoulder. Reaching into her dressing-gown pocket, she produced a letter and handed it to Julia.

  ‘What’s this?’ She recognised Paul’s large handwriting.

  ‘It arrived after you left for the ball. He must have sent it some time ago.’

  Julia sat on the edge of her seat, fingering the letter, afraid to open it for fear it might be the last she ever received from him.

  Emily made her way out of the room, followed by Annette, who offered a comforting smile.

  Julia tore open the letter.

  Dear Julia,

  Forgive my brevity. We are in port taking on supplies for the fleet and I wanted to send word since it may be my last opportunity to write for some time. I hope everyone at Knollwood is doing well. Uncle George wrote to inform me of his plan to bring Captain Covington to stay at Creedon Abbey in November, and to meet you all. I was shocked by his announcement, given our history, of which Uncle George has surely informed you. Perhaps it means the captain has finally forgiven me and will rescind his poor recommendation and I shall have my ship after all. If he hasn’t forgiven me, I depend upon you to do nothing but speak of my great character and change his mind for you can be quite persuasive when you want something.

  I must go now, but I’ll write more when I can. Give my love to Mother.

  Your devoted brother,

  Paul

  Without thinking, she marched up to the captain, the paper fluttering in her shaking hands. ‘It was all about revenge, wasn’t it?’

  He stared at her, stunned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You wrote Paul’s poor recommendation. You stopped him from getting his own ship.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Why?’

  The captain ran his hand through his hair. ‘Your brother served with me many years ago in Portsmouth. During that time he failed to demonstrate qualities necessary to command a ship. There were questions about whether or not he could be trusted to follow orders or do the honourable thing.’

  ‘It was more complicated than that,’ Uncle George added.

  ‘You knew about this and didn’t tell me?’ She gaped at Uncle George, who tugged on the sleeves of his jacket. She felt lied to and betrayed by both of them and, combined with her worry for Paul, it was more than she could bear.

  ‘Julia, please.’ Captain Covington moved forwards, but she stepped away.

  ‘How dare you speak of honour when you have none. For years you’ve had a grudge against Paul and when you couldn’t strike at him you decided to take advantage of me.’

  ‘That’s not it at all. Please allow me to explain.’ He took her by the arms, but she shook off his grasp.

  ‘Explain what? How instead of receiving his own ship and perhaps being hundreds of miles from danger, he’s now missing? How you went to Mrs Wilkins, exposing me to the humiliation of the entire countryside because you made me think you cared?’

  ‘I do care. Don’t you see?’

  ‘No, I won’t have any more of your lies.’ She ran from the room and up the stairs, not daring to breathe until she crumpled to her knees in the privacy of her room, large tears rolling down her face.

  * * *

  ‘I was a fool to go or at the least I should have taken you along,’ James lamented, remembering his brief time in Melinda’s room. He should have known she’d strike at him like this. Once again he’d underestimated her. He thought of her letter in the drawer upstairs. He could make good on his promise and send it to Rowan, but what difference would it make now?

  ‘What I don’t understand is how she got your medal.’ George paced back and forth across the room with slow, heavy steps.

  ‘I remember Melinda putting her arms around my neck. She must have taken it then.’

  ‘Sounds more like a cutpurse than a lady.’

  ‘From everything I heard of her while in London, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s turned to thievery to keep herself from ruin.’

  George paused near the card table, fingering the deck, his face long. ‘I should have been honest with Julia, told her about you and Paul. I hate to think I’ve hurt her.’

  ‘She loves you too much not to forgive you and once everything is settled, she’ll understand why you did it. She might even thank you for it,’ James offered, trying to bolster his friend’s spirits. He’d only seen George this upset once before when a young officer they both admired was killed in a skirmish off Martinique. Despite winning the skirmish and taking a grand prize, the entire crew had been affected by the officer’s death, much like tonight’s news had touched everyone at Knollwood.

  ‘I hope you’re right. She means the world to me.’ George took a deep breath, flipping over a card and laying it face up on the table. ‘I only kept it a secret because I wanted her to give you a chance.’

  ‘Then why did you write Paul about it?’

  ‘Because I didn’t think he’d write to her about it. Apparently, I was wrong.’ He flipped over another card and laid it beside the other. ‘But enough about my troubles. What’ll you do?’

  James shook his head. ‘Tonight, nothing. In the morning I’ll make her listen to me—whatever it takes to get her to the altar.’

  * * *

  Julia leaned against her bedroom wall, wrung out and tired. The evening had started out so glorious, and now it was gone, all of it: the captain, Cable Grange, her future. Fresh tears rolled down her face at the thought of enduring the wagging tongues of the countryside and Charles’s endless sermons. She scowled, hating her brother very much at this moment.

  Across the room, she noticed her books and agricultural tracts stacked in a neat pile on a table next to the window. On top sat the book Paul had given her on India. Where was he? Why wouldn’t Charles search for him? She would if she could.

  She sat up, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand as the plan began to form in her mind. Paul. She could find him, nurse him back to health if need be and live with him, away from Charles, Knollwood and the captain.

  It was dangerous and if she went through with it, there would be no going back, not that it mattered now. Even if Julia told Charles the truth about Captain Covington, he would still insist on a wedding. No, she wouldn’t be bound to a man who didn’t love her or who wouldn’t be faithful. Life with Paul was the only option, if she could find him, if he was still alive.

  Rising, Julia cracked open the door and peered into the empty hallway, listening to the muffled voices of the captain and Uncle George from downstairs. Hurrying along the hall, she slipped inside Paul’s room, careful to lock the door behind her. Pulling open the wardrobe, she grabbed one of Paul’s old uniform jackets, a shirt, a pair of breeches, the Hessians, a hat and haversack. Stuffing the clothes in the haversack, she felt around, hoping to find a pistol or even a sword, but there was nothing else except a few old blankets. Closing the wardrobe, she carefully opened the bedroom door. Charles’s whining tone carried from their mother’s room, his pleas fading down the empty hallway.

>   A few candles flickered in their holders, the flames dancing as Julia stole by. At the bottom of the stairs she stopped, listening for the captain and Uncle George. The clink of a crystal stopper followed by a slight cough punctuated the low cadence of their voices. The bottom stair creaked and she froze. The men’s muffled conversation didn’t falter and she slipped unnoticed past the door and to the study.

  Inside, she didn’t dare light a candle. Pulling the key from its hiding place in the ink blotter’s handle, she unlocked the top desk drawer and drew out the money pouch. It jingled loudly and she clutched it tight, silencing the coins. Slipping it into the haversack, she locked the drawer, returned the key to its hiding place, then fled the room, making her way out of the house through the back.

  Her feet flew over the gravel walkway as she ran down the hill to the stables, gripping the haversack with one hand while her other one held up the hem of her dress. The frosty night air bit at her exposed skin while the satin slippers failed to protect her feet from every stone embedded in the path.

  Pushing open the stable door, the horses whinnied, then shifted back and forth in their stalls. They watched her run to the small room at the back where she stripped off the white-and-gold dress and hung it on a peg. It sagged there like an old skin, taunting her with what might have been. Why had she tried to be anything other than who she was? And who was she? Not Mrs James Covington, nor a polished London lady, only the fallen, spinster sister of a lieutenant in his Majesty’s Navy. She forced the bitter sadness from her mind, knowing she’d never accomplish anything tonight with such heartache weighing on her. Paul needed her and he was all that mattered.

  She slipped on the jacket, the rough wool scratching through the simple linen shirt, but giving welcome relief from the cold stable. She pulled on the trousers and then the Hessians, which fit surprisingly well for being two sizes too large. Walking in a tight circle, she admired the easy way the outfit allowed her to move. Removing the pins and ribbon from her hair, she arranged her locks into a ponytail, securing it with the ribbon and tucking it up under the hat. It was a poor disguise, but with luck it would be enough to keep anyone with a mind for trouble from picking her out. Tossing the haversack over her shoulder, she pulled open the door, letting out a yelp when she came face to face with John.