Twelfth Night Secrets

by Jane Feather

  Harriet suppressed a smile. It was all too accurate a description of the late Lord Belling. “His grace of Harwich will take Aunt Augusta. They like each other and should enjoy themselves.”

  The Duke nodded his approval. “And send Delford in with Hartford’s daughter. She’s a pretty little thing, although something of a mouse, but I daresay he won’t mind that.”

  Harriet curtsied her acknowledgment of these instructions. She knew well her grandfather’s general view of his relatives. His tolerance seemed to extend only to his late son and his grandchildren, and even that could be somewhat edgy at times. She looked across the room to where Julius stood gallantly conversing with the great-aunts, who were ensconced side-by-side on a cushioned settle to one side of the hearth, glasses of ratafia in hand, lorgnettes resting on pouter-pigeon bosoms.

  There could be no possible attraction for the Earl in such an unfashionable Christmas house party. There were few prominent members of Society gathered at Charlbury Hall. Most of the men were members of the House of Lords, but as far as she knew, none of them was particularly active in politics. The younger members of the party all seemed barely out of school compared with the Earl’s composed assurance. He was older than Nick, she was sure. Although Nick, too, had carried himself with the same poise and gravitas. So why had the man chosen to spend the Christmas season there of all places?

  There was only the one obvious explanation . . . the one provided by the men from the Ministry. Julius Forsythe was engaged in clandestine activity with the network of foreign spies who they knew were working out of Oxford University. Charlbury Hall was ideally situated, less than ten miles from the dreaming spires. And if it was true that the Earl was using Nick’s family as cover for his betrayal of his country, then it was a double betrayal of Nick.

  For a moment, Harriet was swamped with a red surge of fury and grief so powerful she felt sick and dizzy, the room around her fading into a gray mist so that she wondered if she was about to faint. But then, abruptly, she became aware that the object of her fury was looking at her, eyebrows raised in question. She realized that she had been staring fixedly at him, and she could only imagine her expression if it had been an accurate reflection of her thoughts. She felt her cheeks warm and with a supreme effort produced a smile, acknowledging his gaze, and then watched with sinking heart as, with a murmur of apology to the aunts, he threaded his way deftly towards her.

  “I have the impression you wished to talk to me, Lady Harriet,” he said, bowing before her. “How may I be of service?”

  “Forgive me,” she said with a tiny laugh. “I didn’t realize I was staring at you. The Duke has just given me instructions as to the seating plan this evening, and it’s thrown all my carefully thought-out decisions to the four winds. I was racking my brains trying to rearrange things.”

  “Oh, well, that’s something of a relief,” he said. “Your expression implied that you were slowly roasting someone over hot coals . . . or at least wishing you were. I felt quite sorry for whoever it was.” His tone was teasing, his smile relaxed and easy.

  Harriet regained her composure. “In some measure, it was you, my lord.” She gave a light laugh. “As it happens, the Duke wishes you to take me into dinner, and it was that change that was causing me so much annoyance.”

  He wrinkled his nose comically. “Annoyance . . . well, that has certainly put me in my place.”

  “No, indeed, sir, I did not mean such discourtesy. It was only the consequences of the instruction that were inconvenient. I shall be delighted to have your company at dinner.” Harriet was astonished at herself. She had never really considered herself much of an actress, but she thought she sounded utterly convincing; even her laughter sounded genuine.

  Julius bowed again. “The pleasure will be all mine, ma’am.” He took her empty glass and exchanged it for a full one from the tray of a passing footman. “But if we are to be dinner partners, could we not dispense with formality, Harriet? I asked you this morning if you would call me by my given name. It would please me greatly.”

  “Maybe it would, sir, but it would certainly draw adverse attention from my aunts,” she retorted, taking a sip of wine. “They are great sticklers for the conventions, you should understand.”

  “Then when we are private, perhaps?” he persevered.

  “I doubt there will be much opportunity for that, Lord Marbury. I have many guests to attend to.”

  “You really are determined to be obstructive, aren’t you?” he observed. “Oddly enough, Nick never mentioned that particular quirk of yours.”

  “You were in the habit of discussing me with my brother, then, sir?” Her tone acquired a degree of hauteur, and she was aware that she was hurt as much as anything by the idea that Nick would discuss her with this man but not tell her anything about the Earl in exchange. What had they had together that was so exclusive, Nicholas Devere and Julius Forsythe?

  “My dear Harriet, he spoke of you only in the most fond manner. You were much in his thoughts, I gathered. You and the twins. I had the impression he hated to leave you alone.”

  He spoke quietly, and the black eyes had taken on a texture almost like black velvet, Harriet thought. He was doing it again, enclosing them both in some exclusive circle, where nothing around them could penetrate. She took an overlarge sip of her wine and turned her head, coughing into her hand, shattering the uncomfortably private moment.

  The brass gong provided welcome diversion. Mallow, the butler, stood at the foot of the staircase and announced, “Dinner is served, your grace.”

  The Duke bowed to the Dowager Lady Belling, offering his arm. Harriet swiftly paired the remaining guests with a smile, a nod, a hand on an arm, and took up the rear of the procession on the arm of Lord Marbury. The dining salon was brilliantly lit. Chandeliers threw torchlight onto the shining rosewood surface of the immense table, and candelabra marched, silver-bright, down the center. A fire burned in the massive inglenook fireplace, dispelling the chill in the air, heavy curtains were drawn across the long windows, effectively blocking drafts, and hidden from view beneath the table, small warming pans of hot coals dispensed heat to frozen feet.

  Julius held Harriet’s chair for her as she took her place at the center of the right side of the table, and then he took his own seat on her right. Aunt Augusta presided at the foot of the table, the Duke at the head.

  “The children are not making an appearance at the dinner table, I gather,” Julius observed, taking up his soupspoon.

  “No, but they will tomorrow. We will dine at four tomorrow, so that the servants may have their own Christmas dinner in the evening.” Harriet took a spoonful of chestnut soup. “I am surprised, sir, that you are not spending Christmas with your own family. You mentioned a sister and children, as I recall.” She broke off a piece of bread and glanced sideways at him. “Christmas is usually a time to be with one’s family, not a party of strangers.”

  “I don’t consider the Duke a stranger,” he responded. “This is excellent soup, by the way . . . And neither do I consider you to be a stranger, if I may say so without impertinence. Your brother talked so often of you.”

  “You are a stranger to me, Lord Marbury.” She glanced at him again. “I had never heard of you before yesterday afternoon.”

  “No,” he agreed blandly. “As I’ve said, your brother must have considered my friendship to be less noteworthy than I considered his.”

  “I don’t believe that,” she said directly, deciding she would get nowhere by continuing to tiptoe around the subject. “Nick was always very loyal to his friends, and he and I had few secrets from each other. There must have been some compelling reason for him to keep you a secret.”

  “I can’t think of one,” he responded. “And since we are unlikely to discover the answer now, maybe we should stop worrying about it.”

  Harriet tried another tack. “Were you with Nick at the siege of Elba when he was killed?”

  He shook his head. “No, I was never
in the army.”

  And neither was Nick, she reflected. Or at least, not in the regular army. “So you were just companions in pleasure, then?” She took a slice of roast turbot from the platter presented by a footman.

  “That is certainly one way of putting it.” He helped himself liberally to fish.

  She took a delicate forkful. “The turbot is one of Cook’s specialties, by the way. She uses ginger and cinnamon in the sauce. I hope you like it.”

  “It’s quite delicious.”

  “Did you spend time together in London, or just in Paris and here at Charlbury?”

  Julius put down his fork and turned to look at her quizzically. “This is quite a catechism, ma’am.”

  “Given how close I was to my brother, curiosity about how he spent his time away from his family seems only natural in the circumstances.”

  “I suppose so.” He picked up his fork again, and Harriet waited for him to answer her question, but he seemed intent on his turbot.

  She waited until the fish was removed and roast goose made its appearance, then repeated her question. “So, did you see much of Nick in London?” She forked a slice of meat from the silver platter presented by a footman.

  “Not really.” He selected a plump, crisp-skinned leg.

  Harriet took a spoonful of greens cooked in almond milk from the tureen at her elbow. “You were such friends, I wonder why that should be . . . Do you care for applesauce?”

  “Thank you.” He took the bowl from her. “Let me explain. I remained in Paris when Nick returned to England.” He gave her a bland smile. “Since I understand you spend most of your time in London yourself, I’m sure, since you shared a roof with your brother, you would have been aware of our friendship had I been in London.”

  It was like trying to shoot a mosquito, Harriet thought in frustration. He managed to evade every single question while appearing to answer her openly.

  “How often were you with Nick down here at Charlbury?” She tried again.

  “Oh, several times . . . I don’t recall exactly. But you should talk to your grandfather. Maybe he remembers better than I.”

  “Maybe.” She gave him a brief smile and turned to engage her neighbor on her left side, leaving the Earl to do the same with his own.

  Once the detritus of the goose had been removed and replaced with mushroom tartlets, scalloped oysters, and some cheese and parsnip fritters, Harriet turned back to Julius. “Your sister . . . ?” she prompted. “How many children has she?”

  “Three or four,” he returned, taking a sip of wine.

  “You don’t know exactly?” she exclaimed. “But you gave me the impression you were very fond of them.”

  “Oh, so I am,” he agreed. “When in their company. But that doesn’t mean I can always keep track of how many there are. Eloise is usually either with child or just delivered of one.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and gave her a sideways smile. “Her husband is very devoted, it seems.” It was a wickedly suggestive smile that brought an instant and involuntary smile to her lips, although she was sure the aunts would have expected a maidenly blush.

  “Is she your only sister?”

  “Yes . . . and to save your next question, I am now her only brother. Our older brother died of smallpox when he was twelve.” His smile now was quizzical, slightly teasing. “Perhaps a written questionnaire would move matters along a little.”

  “Oh, don’t be absurd,” Harriet declared. “I am merely trying to make conversation.”

  “Well, if I may say so, interrogation is an unusual form of conversation.” He spooned scalloped oysters onto his plate. “I must congratulate you on your cook. Has she been with the family long?”

  Harriet laughed. “Oh, very well, sir. I yield the floor. Yes, Mistress Hubbard has been cook at Charlbury since before my grandmother died. She and Mallow were here before Nick was born and were part of our childhood, as they are part of the twins’. The same with Judd.” She switched onto a parallel track. “Where did you go on your ride today? I should have told you about some of my favorite rides around here. The countryside is so beautiful, even in the middle of winter.”

  “I certainly found it so,” Julius responded. “But as it happens, I decided to ride into Oxford. I was a student there many years ago and always enjoyed the weeks before Christmas, when the city took on such a festive air. I had the urge to see how much it had changed in the last ten years.”

  “And had it?”

  “Probably not, but I have,” he said with a chuckle. “For some reason, the scents of roasting chestnuts from the braziers along St. Giles or the spice cakes they were selling in Carfax didn’t have the same richness as they did when I was a gangling and perpetually famished undergraduate.”

  “You make yourself sound like a world-weary old man,” Harriet scoffed. “You cannot be that much older than Nick, and he never lost his pleasure in the city at any time of the year.”

  Julius looked at her rather more sharply. “I can give Nick eight years, my dear. And you, nine.”

  That would make him thirty. Harriet had thought him about that age, although his manner sometimes made him seem older. She observed, “Eight years is quite an age difference when it comes to friendship. It seems unusual that you and Nick should have been as close as you imply just based on pleasures shared. A joint enterprise perhaps might forge strong ties that could transcend such a gap, but just cards, or sportsmanship, or dancing . . . come to think of it, Nick was never much of a dancer.” She regarded him with an air of mild inquiry. “What did you have in common, my lord?”

  Julius considered his response. The lady was fishing, and she was fishing in quite good waters. She had acted as Nick’s poste restante, so she knew at least something of Nick’s extracurricular activities, and she was no fool. Her questions as a result were pertinent. But should he satisfy her curiosity with a fraction of the truth or continue in straight-faced denial?

  The latter would probably close off all possibility of getting to know her better. That had not been an object of this particular Christmas excursion, but it was one that seemed to have become very important. He liked her. No, much more than that. She attracted him most powerfully. Not just physically, although he’d be the last to deny that particular attraction, but he enjoyed her company, and he admired her. And for Julius, admiration was the most powerful aphrodisiac. She had so much courage, and she was carrying far too much on those slender shoulders. He wanted to lighten her burdens a little. She had shared them with Nick, and her brother was no longer there to take his part. Nick had made his own choices, chosen the path that had led to his early death. But others had been complicit in that tragedy, too. With the smoothness of a greased wheel, his mind automatically threw up the wall that prevented further exploration of that subject. What was done was done.

  But Harriet was too young to carry the weight of so much loss, not to mention the responsibility for the twins. Of course, legally they were their grandfather’s charge, but it was as clear as day to Julius that their day-to-day care, both emotional and physical, fell to their sister. And that didn’t seem right to him. Nick had said as much on several occasions, and Julius now understood what he meant, now that he had met Nick’s beloved sister. There was no real reason he should create a rift between them at this juncture.

  “There was an incident while we were in Paris. I’m surprised your brother didn’t tell you of it, but perhaps he didn’t wish to alarm you,” he said with a slight shrug, accepting a refilled glass from a footman with a decanter. “We were involved in a street fight—”

  “A street fight?” Harriet interrupted him. “A brawl?”

  “Not exactly,” Julius said, considering his words. “I came upon a young man being set upon by a trio of bully boys, and since the odds struck me as somewhat uneven, I took my sword to the fight. I was hard pressed at one point, and by great good fortune, Nick happened to come around the corner and jumped in at the opportune moment. I think it no exaggerati
on to say that both my life and that of the young man were saved by his timely intervention.”

  “Oh, I see.” Harriet absorbed this. She could believe such a story of Nick. But what if Julius had actually been one of the assassins and not an angel of mercy, and Nick had assumed that someone was in trouble and joined the fight without knowing anything about the participants or the cause of the imbroglio? But then again, Julius, as a double agent, could have been set upon by British assassins and Nick had happened to come to his rescue without knowing that he was helping the wrong man. Oh, it gave her a headache. Nothing was to be gained by such pointless speculation.

  “That would certainly explain an unlikely friendship,” she said easily. “Nick was ever one to go to the rescue of the underdog.” She wondered with a degree of mischief whether the term underdog had bruised his lordship’s pride somewhat. But if it had, he gave no indication.

  “Your aunt appears to be signaling you,” Julius murmured, bringing her attention back to the table.

  Harriet looked towards her aunt and saw her gesticulating with her eyebrows. Augusta was far too well-bred to call down the table to gain her great-niece’s attention. Harriet inclined her head in acknowledgment and made a move to rise from her chair. The signal was sufficient for the gentlemen to rise to assist the ladies from their chairs, and Aunt Augusta led the female procession from the dining room.

  Before going into the drawing room, Harriet ran upstairs to the nursery floor. The nursemaid was sitting in front of the fire, darning Tom’s stockings, but she jumped up as Harriet came in. “No, please, sit down, Lilly. Has Nurse Maddox gone to bed?”

  “Yes, m’lady. She said she’ll be up early enough wi’ the children in the morning, so she went early.”

  “She’s right,” Harriet said with a rueful smile. “They’ll be up before dawn on Christmas morning. Are they asleep now?” She gestured to the door to the night nursery.