by Jo Beverley
When the maid opened the door, Juno was in place to go forward. "Cousin Chart," she said and extended a hand that only shook slightly. "What a pleasant surprise."
It was only as she was introduced to Mr. Cornwallis that the thought struck her. If Chart was in Valentine Parva he could have sent the roses. She turned from Mr. Cornwallis to look up at him in wonder.
He smiled and winked. "Happy Valentine's Day, Cousin. No, dammit, not cousins. Happy Valentine's Day, Juno."
It was happening again, that something special was washing over her. She was sure, strange though it seemed, that he was going to kiss her...
But then Cressida was there, followed by Marian, and Juno knew she had been imagining it. In fact, she told herself in a little while, she was in danger of making a great fool of herself. The two young men confessed to having sent valentines to their cousins, treating it as a jape. The roses were indeed completely artificial blooms.
Moreover, it did not escape Juno that Chart paid particular attentions to Marian. Hardly surprising when she was so poised and polished. He was a pink of the ton and used to young women of that sort, not self-conscious blue-stockings with secret romantical afflictions. She desperately wanted to point out that Marian was betrothed, to draw attention to her ring, but that would be far too revealing. So instead she made scathing comments about foolish Valentine's Day practices, supporting them with Wollstonecraftian quotations in favor of rational thinking.
After that she started a weighty discussion of the implications of the establishment of the Portuguese Empire in Brazil. Of course no one took it up with any enthusiasm and soon the talk moved again to social matters and fashionable gossip, with Marian leading the way and the two gentlemen happily doing their part.
As soon as the men left, Juno went to her room with the express intent of throwing out a bunch of artificial yellow roses. Her hands wouldn't obey her and instead she sat and wept. She no longer knew what she wanted, what was right, what was possible.
She just knew it was all unutterably painful.
* * *
Riding back through Valentine Parva, Chart looked at the cloudy sky and said, "More rain."
Corny morosely agreed.
"Don't seem much point in going back to your place," Chart said.
"Ain't much point in staying here," replied Corny.
"Like to have a word with little Juno," Chart admitted. "Didn't seem happy."
"Seemed well enough to me, unless you mean that prosing on about Portugal. Not normal, that isn't."
Chart shook his head. "Seemed put out. Probably because I sent her those roses. I should have realized she'd be offended by that sort of thing, being the daughter of a stern reformer. Why don't we rack up at the Heart and Arrow for a day or two? If the weather's going to be foul, it'll be more fun to be here than in the Shires."
"If you say so," Corny agreed, but gave his friend a very worried look.
* * *
The next few days were torture for Juno.
It rained continuously. When Cressida discovered the young men had decided to stay in the village she made them free of the house and they took her up on it. Straight after breakfast they ran down the lane in heavy cloaks and then stayed all day at Pyne Manor.
They were affable with everyone except her. For some reason Mr. Cornwallis seemed to disapprove of her. Probably because of her opinions on women's rights. Her defensive lecture had offended Chart as well. He hardly spoke to her, and if he did it was awkwardly.
When she saw his easy address with the others, the light compliments he paid Marian and even Cressida, and the easy way he conversed with Mrs. Pyne it made his stiff manner with her excruciating.
Then it got worse.
The weather improved.
Juno expected Chart's immediate departure and longed for it even though it would break her heart. But in the end Mr. Cornwallis left while Chart stayed behind. He gave a rather sheepish explanation of having hurt his leg and being unable to hunt for a few days. No one believed him as most of the time he forgot to limp. Could he truly have fallen in love with Marian? Plagued by this thought, Juno kept reminding Marian of Charles, but as there'd been no letter from him for the longest time, Marian broke into tears and fled to her room, crushing Juno with guilt.
Chart wouldn't go away. He accompanied them on walks, played ball with Toby, and even spillikins without complaint. He took Toby for rides on his horse, which charmed Cressida. Had he set his mind on her?
When Juno found herself trapped in the parlor with Chart and Marian, who were shamelessly flirting in a very sophisticated way, she went to great pains to make her adherence to Mary Wollstonecraft's ideals clear as often as possible.
Suddenly Marian snapped, "For heaven's sake, Juno, we know your lofty ideals. Have pity on we poor mortals who would not take offense at being cosseted by the man of our dreams!" Then she apologized and left, leaving Juno mortified and alone with Chart.
She rose to leave, but he blocked her way. "Are you unhappy here, Juno? I can see your mind is not in accord with Miss Langley."
"Oh no. She's generally very kind. It's me…. It's time for me to return home. Mrs. Pyne cannot be expected to house me forever."
"At risk of having my nose bitten, I must say I cannot be happy at you returning to living alone. My parents would be willing to have you visit them, but I wouldn't advise that. I go home as little as I can. "
Juno was astonished by this frankly unfilial attitude.
"But my cousin Lord Randal and his wife would be delighted to have you visit and even take you to London for the season. They're great fun. That is, if you don't object to fun."
There was nothing Juno wanted more than to go to London and have fun. To visit the theatre, stroll in the fashionable parks, and dance at balls under glittering chandeliers. She couldn't quite admit it, so made do with a vague, "I don't know."
"There are more serious events. Royal Society. Readings. Museums...." He looked around the drawing room and said desperately, "It's a little warm in here. Why don't we go into the conservatory?"
That room was separated from the parlor by glass doors covered by a heavy crimson curtain. Juno wasn't particularly warm, but she was not about to object to anything that would give her a few more moments alone with him. She hadn't realized that once inside, with the sun setting, the small glass room would be alarmingly intimate.
"Cousin Juno..."
She looked up. "Yes?"
"I know I'm a frippery sort of fellow. Can't seem to get interested in philosophy or even much in politics unless it's going to affect my own interests. I'll try to improve."
"Improve?" Juno echoed. How did a paragon improve?
"I'd like you to think better of me." Rather tentatively, he touched her cheek. "Please?"
"I don't think badly of you, Cousin Chart," she whispered, his knuckle against her cheek like a hot coal.
"I'm not your cousin," he said sharply. His hand spread to rest along her jaw and she leant into it like a bird settling into a warm nest. There was a moment of silence, but then she heard Marian enter the parlor talking. She couldn't hear the words, but she might come in here. Even so, she didn't resist as his hand slid around to the back of her head and tilted it. As he lowered his lips to hers.
They both sighed as their lips touched. Juno felt as if she'd been walking in a mist which suddenly cleared to reveal sunshine and glory. She leant against him and his arms came around her. She stretched her arms around the rough texture of his jacket and felt the hard power of his body beneath.
My hero!
She tasted him on her lips and tongue. It was strange. It was something she'd always known. Voices became louder.
The curtain hissed back and the door opened.
"Mr. Ashby!" exclaimed Cressida. "Juno!"
They broke apart, but not very far. Behind Cressida stood Marian, staring but with bright eyes.
Standing in Chart's arm Juno looked up and saw him red-faced and dazed, but lookin
g blissful. She suspected she looked the same. She certainly didn't feel as if she had done anything wrong.
That was clearly not Cressida's opinion. "Juno, you are in my care here. I cannot countenance this. Please go to your room and wait there for me to speak to you. Mr. Ashby, come with me."
Brought down to earth, Juno sent her hero an anguished apology. How could she have allowed that? He smiled, winked and gave her a squeeze before releasing her. He must love her! Heart floating again Juno went up to her room, grateful for a chance to digest and savor her extraordinary transformation.
Sometime later, Cressida came in and sat with a sigh. "Oh, Juno. I had never expected you to be a foolish one."
"Foolish?"
"Very foolish. Chart Ashby is a handsome man. He is also rich and well-born. His family will look much higher than you when it comes to marriage."
"Marriage." Juno had not really looked beyond the marvelous present, but now she did and found it glorious. "He's of age. He can do what he wants."
"Do try to come out of dreams! He will be ostracized by his family. The Ashbys, remember? You told me they cut off your mother when she married your father. How will they react to him marrying Rebel Rathbone's daughter?"
A chill did dispel dreams. Juno hugged herself.
Cressida sighed again. "I speak from experience of my own, dear. I, too, once formed an attachment for a high-born young man. I, too, thought worldly matters irrelevant, but when I saw the problems it would cause, not just then but forever I knew it could never bring either of us happiness. He wasn't easy to persuade, but he accepted it and later married suitably to excellent effect. As did I. We met once, a few years ago, and agreed we'd avoided disaster."
"But Chart does truly wants to marry me?" Juno asked, clinging to the remnants of her dream.
"What else could he say when caught kissing you in such a manner?"
"He doesn't want to marry me?"
"Think. What do you have in common? You have a serious, studious nature. He finds his pleasure in tonnish frolics and hunting. You believe in women's rights. He's as arrogant as all men of his type. You would be at one another's throats as soon as the honeymoon was over."
Honeymoon, Juno thought, but Cressida's words couldn't be ignored. Juno felt the dream slip away, leaving only cold darkness. "It would be bad for him if we were to marry?"
"Yes," Cressida said. "And for you. His family would never accept you, and that would cause strife and estrangement, which in time he would regret. I understand how you feel, my dear. Truly I do, but there's no happiness for either of you in this. A little sober thought will soon convince you of that."
Juno swallowed tears. "Did you come to be convinced?"
"Yes." Cressida stood. "I met another man to love, one with whom I had much in common, I was happy. I have told Mr. Ashby he may not visit here again. I hope I can trust you not to communicate with him."
"Of course."
Cressida left and Juno sank into the misery of truth. She couldn't make Chart a good wife and she'd be in agony if she came between him and his family. She, who had never really had family, valued it all the more for him. She found a flicker of hope in what he'd implied about not liking his family, but then she remembered the cousin he did like. Estrangement could spread far.
She couldn't bear to think that she'd never see him again, but at least she had that one kiss to remember. One kiss, and some artificial roses....
Then she frowned. Chart had felt obliged to say he'd marry her. Therefore he'd still feel that obligation. If he felt he'd compromised her he might return despite anything Cressida said. He could be so difficult to resist.
She must protect him from himself. She must leave here -- but she couldn't return to Oakham. He might pursue her there.
She'd go to Uncle Augustus in Wales. He was her guardian. He'd have to take her in, and there she could recover her good sense.
After all, it would probably be quite uncomfortable to be married to a romantic hero. Perhaps one day, like Cressida, she'd find a quiet, sober gentleman to marry. One who shared her principles and would enjoy discussions of philosophy and politics. She started to pack, tears steadily leaking as she worked.
Chapter Five
Juno decided to treat her escape from Pyne Manor and Chart Ashby as an exercise in self-reliance. Slipping out of the house was no trouble as she'd brought little with her and chose to leave the clothing Marian had given her. She even abandoned Lord Montboddo. No more novels for her. They'd put her in ripe condition for folly.
In the grey mists of dawn, she set out with just one bag to walk into Derby where she would hire a conveyance. She'd brought plenty of money to the manor in case of emergencies. In the right hand pocket beneath her gown she stowed her small pistol, loaded but uncocked and with its safety clip engaged.
A creeping, frosty damp made the walk unpleasant, but fate must approve of her decision for she was taken up by a farmer's wife on her way into the town with eggs for her customers. Juno spun a tale of going into town to work as a companion and found it accepted.
At that point she began to enjoy her adventure. Though she'd been trained to self-reliance, she'd never put it into action before and was pleased to discover she could cope.
She remembered Marian saying, "Have pity on we poor mortals who would like to be cosseted by the man of our dreams," but put the temptation firmly out of mind. She was a woman of independent means, trained to stand on her own two feet. She had no need of any man. If not for the miserable ache of cutting herself off from Chart Ashby, her spirits would have been high when she successfully arrived in Derby.
At the Crown she hired a chaise and four. The innkeeper was a little dubious and suggested she might be better advised to travel on the mail than alone. Juno produced the money and soon it was arranged. When she finally rolled out of the inn-yard in a clean equipage, drawn by four horse, each pair tended by a postilion, she smiled with satisfaction. Truly, she needed no man.
All went well the first day, though she did feel very alone. The postilions changed with the horses at each stage, so each new set were strangers, but it would be irrational to be disturbed by that. She had hoped to make the journey in one day, but with the short winter day she put up for the night in Telford, again receiving a dubious welcome eased by money. It was most unfair. The innkeeper wouldn't treat a solitary young gentleman the same way.
She had to confess to some nervousness, especially when one portly gentleman eyed her in an unpleasant way, but at least here she was not alone. A scream would bring many to her aid. She was careful to lock her door, and when fears nibbled at her, she told herself she was suffering from an over-active imagination brought on by too many novels.
Before starting out on the second day of her journey, she walked to a bookseller's and purchased a book on the flora and fauna of Wales. She would need something to do there. She settled to read it as the coach, with a new set of horses and postilions, rolled briskly toward the hills of Wales.
* * *
Back at Pyne Manor, Juno's disappearance threw Cressida into a panic. She must have mishandled the whole affair. What had the poor girl done? She remembered as if it were yesterday how dreadful she had felt in a similar situation.
When she discovered Juno had carefully packed all she had brought with her the panic subsided. That was an unlikely prelude to suicide. The girl had doubtless fled home but Cressida wouldn't feel easy until she was sure.
But then she thought -- had she, could she possibly have eloped?
When she was told Chart Ashby wanted to see her she rushed into the parlor.
"Mrs. Pyne," he said firmly, "I have considered your words yesterday and have decided that though your intentions are excellent, you are in error. My feelings for Juno may have taken me by surprise, but they are real." He was unusually sober and looked a great deal more formidable. "I think I've loved her ever since she snapped her fingers in my face.... As for my family, ma'am, I keep my distance now, so if the
y try to freeze her out it will make little difference."
Cressida wished someone else had spoken like this all those years ago.
"So may I see her, please?" he said.
"Oh, dear. She's gone."
"Gone? Where?"
"I'm not sure," Cressida confessed, collapsing into a chair. "She slipped away early, taking her valise. She must have set out Oakham."
"Alone?" He picked up his hat and gloves. "I'll go after her. What in God's name did you say to her, ma'am?"
"Nothing unkind. I merely pointed out how unsuitable it all was. How unlikely..."
"You're wrong," he said, coldly enough to make her shiver. "It's highly likely. In fact, inevitable. I'll send word to let you know she's safe."
As he went to the door Marian came in. "Cressida, you should see this." She handed over a heavy tome.
"Juno's book," said Cressida. "It was doubtless too heavy to carry and she must know it by heart."
"Open it," said Marian.
Cressida did and caught her breath. From the hollow middle she prized out another, slimmer volume. "Masqued Valentine,'" she read blankly. "A novel? Juno?"
"She's been reading them all along while pretending to read that dull stuff," Marian said. "I don't understand."
"I do," said Cressida. She looked at Chart. "I've been such a fool. Find her, please. I'd love to have her come back here, but whatever happens, make her happy."
"She likes novels?" he said, his expression lightening. "Then I'll be her perfect Lochinvar."
"That's a poem," Marian pointed out.
"Same difference." With a perfect, sweeping bow he hurried off to his horse.
