The Folly at Falconbridge Hall

by Maggi Andersen

  Julian and Blythe were not alone. Miss Patterson, in her superbly cut green habit, with sweeping feathers gracing her hat, accompanied them.

  “Nessa!” Blythe cried, pulling her mount up.

  Julian dismounted and ran to where Vanessa struggled to gain her footing on the soggy ground. She was conscious that her bottom was covered in a large patch of damp. It seeped through, chilling her to the bone. He grabbed her arm in a steely grip. “Are you all right?”

  “Only my pride suffered.” She brushed the back of her hateful skirt with an impatient hand. “How do you do, Miss Patterson?”

  Miss Patterson’s smile failed to hide the flare of satisfaction in her hazel eyes. “So nice to meet you, Lady Falconbridge. I do hope you’re not hurt.”

  As they had met before, Vanessa flushed at the deliberate snub. “Not at all. I was foolishly hurrying to catch you all up. Are you a close neighbor of ours?”

  “Yes.” Miss Patterson blushed prettily and pointed towards a distant bank of elms on the farthest rim of the meadow. “Howe Park is only a few miles on the other side of the wood. I rode a little farther than usual this morning. When I caught sight of his lordship and Miss Blythe, I thought I’d come and offer my congratulations.”

  “How kind.” Vanessa stretched her mouth into a polite smile.

  “Do you feel up to riding home?” Julian asked her.

  Vanessa wasn’t sure if Julian frowned out of concern or annoyance.

  Her face burned. “Of course. If you’ll assist me back into the saddle.”

  With Julian’s hands at her waist, she was up on the horse in a trice. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, she took the reins, hating to be back in the saddle. She would never be entirely at home on a horse.

  “I’ll take this opportunity to offer my felicitations to you, Lady Falconbridge.” Flora bared her teeth, and Miss Patterson’s beautiful bay mare sidled out of her way.

  Vanessa tamped down the desire to also bare her teeth. “Can we prevail upon you to join us for morning tea, Miss Patterson?”

  Miss Patterson glanced at Julian. “Thank you, no. I’m already running late for an engagement. I’ll take the shortcut through the woods.”

  Julian raised his brows. “Then I’d best accompany you, if I may. If you don’t mind, Vanessa? Blythe, see Vanessa back to the stables, will you? I’ll be home directly. We are attending a cocktail party tonight, don’t forget.”

  As if, she could! The thought of meeting Julian’s friends was nerve-wracking. Vanessa was left to follow Blythe’s horse as the other two turned their handsome mounts and rode off in perfect rhythm across the meadow. She chewed her bottom lip. Really, could she have been more clumsy and unattractive?

  Blythe’s sympathetic voice broke through her thoughts. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt, Nessa.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. If we ride every day, I’m sure I’ll improve.” Vanessa laughed to mask her annoyance at Julian. Was it only concern for Miss Patterson that made him wish to escort her? Or might there be more to it? She felt a rush of unfamiliar and painful jealousy. It heated her face and shocked her.

  “You will become a great rider. I just know it,” said the loyal child riding beside her.

  Vanessa gave herself a brisk, silent talking to. “I’m parched, aren’t you? We’ll be back in time for tea.”

  Vanessa followed Blythe’s horse along the track. She couldn’t banish the thought of Julian’s frown. She wanted him to be proud of her, at least. Their night together had been extraordinary. Thinking of it made her tremble. She had examined every detail as she bathed, her tender body reminding her. What a poor thing she was, already hopelessly in love with a man who obviously did not love her. She pressed her lips together. Julian would never leave her bed dissatisfied and thinking of Miss Patterson if she had anything to do with it.

  *****

  Miss Patterson slowed her mount and sidled closer. She reached out a gloved hand and touched Julian’s arm. “If this hastily arranged marriage does not please you, my lord, I am prepared to wait.”

  Shocked, Julian stared at her. He had considered her an innocent, but the look she now gave him was anything but.

  “Wait?” he asked coolly. “For what exactly?”

  Miss Patterson blushed and withdrew her hand. “You knew perhaps that my parents would never agree to such a marriage when you are on the brink of leaving for such a long time. I am merely saying that I shall wait should you wish to alter your arrangement when you return …”

  “My dear Miss Patterson,” Julian said impatiently. “I find your assumption extraordinary. I don’t believe I’ve ever given you reason to hope …”

  “Not in words exactly, but I saw it in your eyes more than once.”

  “You are a pretty woman, and I admired you,” he said, hoping she would desist in this embarrassing conversation. “If that were made a crime, the jails would be overflowing with men.”

  She leaned forward, her full bottom lip thrust out in petulance. “You desired me. But you lacked the courage to pursue it.”

  He shook his head. He had never seriously considered Miss Patterson as a life partner, but he didn’t wish to hurt her. Women were so damned difficult to understand.

  “Please don’t waste your life waiting for me, Miss Patterson,” he said, moving his horse forward. “It would be a big mistake to do so.”

  *****

  By the time they returned to the house, Vanessa, still rattled by Miss Patterson, was in the right frame of mind to tackle the housekeeper. She found Mrs. Royce in the servants’ hall.

  “Mrs. Royce, why do you keep all the curtains drawn during the daytime?”

  “It keeps the sun from fading the furnishings, Lady Falconbridge.”

  “But the house is always so dim.”

  Mrs. Royce’s mouth pinched. “His lordship requested the curtains in his study be opened every morning. He likes the windows wide open in his bedroom too. Says he can’t abide a fusty bedroom.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how he can bear those nasty drafts.”

  Vanessa hid her smile. He was a man after her own heart. “Perhaps the rooms we use regularly might benefit from more light. Could you have the maids see to it?”

  Mrs. Royce looked as if Vanessa had asked her to walk about the house in her bloomers. “Yes, Lady Falconbridge.”

  “But I quite agree with you. The sun can do quite a bit of damage. We’ll leave those rooms not in constant use as they are.”

  Mrs. Royce looked relieved. “As you wish, my lady.”

  Vanessa and Blythe were taking tea when Julian walked into the conservatory, still wearing his riding clothes. “I called in to see the estate manager.”

  His eyes met Vanessa’s with an intimate smile, and she read the greeting in their depths, some unspoken reminder of what they had shared the previous night. It made her hot all over. “I thought you’d like to sleep in this morning.” His intimate smile made her draw breath. “A few hours in the saddle didn’t seem to be a good idea.”

  He used a special tone of voice only for her, lower, with the suggestion that they shared a secret. Her body responded, and she forced herself to concentrate on pouring the tea. Blythe’s sweetly childish chatter was like background music that required no close attention on her part. For a moment, Vanessa felt perfectly contented.

  Blythe wiped her chin with a napkin. “Did you take Miss Patterson all the way home, Father?”

  Julian picked up his cup and took a long swallow. “Just through the woods.”

  “Didn’t she know the way?”

  “Yes, but I don’t like ladies to go into the woods unaccompanied.” He gave Vanessa a steely look. “I know you will obey me in this.”

  Blythe looked up wide-eyed. “But why? Miss Lillicrop and I used to walk there often.”

  Vanessa frowned at him and held her breath, not wishing him to alarm the child.

  Julian cocked an eyebrow at her as he stirred his tea. “The gamekeeper has set traps for foxes
.”

  “Oh. I see.” Blythe said.

  “Am I to employ a new governess?” Julian asked, adroitly changing the subject.

  Blythe swiveled with a cry of protest. “We don’t need one, do we, Nessa?”

  Vanessa smiled. “I should say not.”

  “Then I’ll leave it until I return,” Julian said. “We’ll discuss it then.”

  “Why?” asked Blythe. She seemed unable to accept it wouldn’t always be so.

  “Things may then change,” her father said vaguely. “But we’ll not talk of it now.”

  Vanessa bent her head over the cup. The mention of the trip stripped away her joy. What did Julian mean by “things may change”? She doubted Miss Patterson had been truthful when she said it was a chance meeting and sensed something had occurred between them in the wood. Vanessa acknowledged how irrational it was. Jealousy was a terrible thing she had never before experienced. She would not allow it to eat her up. She was better than that. She would distract herself with housekeeping matters.

  She arranged the cream magnolia and late blooming roses she’d picked in vases in the drawing room, when Julian came in. He had changed his clothes, and his hair looked damp. She tried to tamp down the rush of desire at the sight of him and concentrated on her flower arrangement.

  “Why have all the window curtains been pulled back?” he asked. “The house is filled with sunshine.”

  “I’m afraid that was my doing. I thought the house too gloomy and requested Mrs. Royce let some light in.” Vanessa hoped he was pleased. She personally thought the house looked lovely. The furniture and floors were polished to a high shine and glowed in the light. Gilt-frames and mirrors sparkled. Sunlight brought out the colors of the rich blue damask curtains and the floral Axminster carpet. She planned to ask the head gardener for her own pair of secateurs. She would fill the rooms with blooms come spring.

  Julian turned from studying the room. “And Mrs. Royce gave in without a fight?”

  “Only a very small murmur of protest,” Vanessa said with a laugh.

  He smiled. “Well done.”

  “I thought you might be immersed in your work.”

  “I was, but I couldn’t keep my mind on it. A fellow is allowed a bit of a honeymoon, isn’t he? What is Blythe doing?”

  “She’s playing with her doll house. Agnes is there with her doing some mending.”

  He took her free hand, interlacing his long fingers with hers. “I think it would be wise if we had a rest. This engagement tonight will probably be late.”

  Her heart beat faster at the invitation in his eyes. “I’ll just finish putting these flowers in water.”

  “We’ll let the parlor maid do it. That’s what we have servants for.”

  She began to say it wasn’t a chore, that she loved to arrange flowers, but changed her mind. When he took her hand, she followed him up the stairs. It bothered her how quickly he’d come to mean so much to her. When he shut the bedroom door and took her in his arms, she wondered at the change in him. He was acting like a lover. Whatever had caused such a change she was certainly enjoying the experience.

  *****

  Several nights later, in Julian’s bedroom, Vanessa watched as he moved aside an oil painting of sailing ships hanging on the wall. Hinged, it opened to reveal a safe behind it. He twiddled a dial, pulled a lever, and removed something from it, then closed it again. “I’ve written the combination down for you. I’ll put it in my sock drawer; it won’t be disturbed while I’m gone. You’ll find jewels and money in here should you need it. Everything else is with my solicitor. His details are here too.”

  He was protecting her should he not return. She didn’t want to hear it. He came to where she sat at the dressing table, opening a box as he moved. “I have something for you.” He set it on the dressing table and withdrew a glittering object.

  “Oh, but it’s exquisite!” Vanessa put her hand to her throat when he clasped a delicate diamond necklace around her neck. In the box, lay a pair of matching diamond earrings.

  She swiveled to look up at him. “Thank you, my love.” Shocked that she’d said it, she tried to read the expression in his eyes but his lashes shuttered them, as he straightened the necklace, his fingers light on her skin. The endearment laid her emotions bare before him, to rebuff her or to acknowledge how she clearly felt about him. Time was so short. She breathed in deeply.

  “I shall gain much pleasure from giving you pretty things.” He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss onto the palm.

  It wasn’t a rebuff, nor was it a clear confirmation of his feelings. She turned back to the mirror to put on the earrings, fighting disappointment. She watched him in the glass as he turned away. “Why didn’t you ask Miss Patterson to marry you?”

  He swung back to face her with raised brows. It was impertinent and entirely unreasonable, and her heart nearly stopped while she waited for his answer. She almost wished to take the words back, but with their brief time together racing towards the end, she had to ask it.

  She searched his gaze and found humor lurking there. “Might you be a little jealous of Miss Patterson?”

  She pulled on her gloves. “A little.”

  “I’m flattered, but you have no reason to be.”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “Why I didn’t ask her?” He picked up his gloves and top hat from the bureau. “It just didn’t occur to me.”

  Rising, she walked over to rest her hands on his chest. “It didn’t occur to you?”

  He held his hands over hers with a smile. “I suppose I didn’t wish to. I wasn’t considering marriage at that point.”

  “But you asked me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes grew shadowed. “You know why.”

  “Because you trust me with your daughter’s welfare?”

  “Yes. I trust in your common sense.”

  “And Miss Patterson … lacks common sense?”

  He broke away from her and picked up his evening cape. “Does she? I don’t know.”

  “For a scientist, you are being remarkably obtuse.”

  He gave a strained laugh. “And you’re being remarkably inquisitive.”

  She looked down at her hands and swiveled the ring on her finger. “I have to know, Julian.”

  “Do you? Well, you have nothing to fear from Miss Patterson. No doubt she will be engaged or married by the time I return.”

  This was getting them nowhere. She bit her lip and attempted to hide her disappointment.

  “Shall we go?” Julian said, placing her evening cape around her shoulders. “Capstick has brought the carriage around.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Little was said between them on the way in the carriage. Julian appeared thoughtful and self-contained and unaware of how nervous she was. Annoyed with herself and a bit with him, she stared out at the halo of gas lamps lighting the pavements. She realized she must stop hoping for something more from him than their initial agreement. He had warned her.

  Lord and Lady Forster resided in grand white stuccoed house in Belgrave Square. They were greeted by the elegant couple in the soaring, marble hall where a butler and maid waited, ready to whisk away their hats and coats.

  Lady Forster cast a sharp eye over her, perhaps searching for signs of anguish. Apparently satisfied, she took Julian’s arm and led them into the throng, with Vanessa following on Lord Forster’s arm.

  The stylish guests enjoyed the soft evening, roaming the stone terrace Vanessa could see through the French windows or chatting beneath an enormous chandelier in the crimson-papered drawing room. Vanessa, naturally shy, blanched at the sight of them turning to gaze at her. It didn’t help that, as the room’s centerpiece, looking ravishing in pale lilac tulle, stood Miss Abigail Patterson, surrounded by men. Her gaze slid past Vanessa and alighted on Julian. Her look, before she quickly glanced away, was full of longing. Vanessa silently commiserated. Again, she wondered why Juli
an had not chosen Miss Patterson. There was so much she didn’t know about him. She longed to understand what had happened to bring his marriage to Clara to an end, for until she did there would be gulf between them. Had he made love to many women? Even by her own limited knowledge of such things, he was undoubtedly a practiced lover. She couldn’t bury the thought that she was an interloper in this world Miss Patterson inhabited with such poise. But Julian had chosen to marry her, and she would fight to remain with Blythe whatever happened in the future.

  Miss Patterson came to greet them, casting a quick glance at Vanessa’s dress. The dramatic bright orange and black pattern stood out amongst the softer hues in the room. Vanessa was glad she’d chosen it. Now was not the time to fade into the background.

  People offering their felicitations swamped them. Vanessa knew she would never remember all their names. Mr. and Mrs. Watmore, greeted her warmly, then Lord Forster introduced her to the other explorer accompanying them to South America, Charles Frobisher. The tall, fair-haired gentleman, who was dressed rather rakishly in a cerise waistcoat and floppy bow tie, greeted her with a wide smile.

  Mr. Frobisher stepped closer to Vanessa while Julian was engaged in conversation with an older lady. “I believe you are the Earl of Gresham’s niece,” he said. “His lordship belongs to my club.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know him well.”

  “No?” His sandy eyebrows rose. “Starchy kind of chap, wouldn’t you say?”

  Vanessa refused to be drawn into revealing her feelings about her uncle. “Are you looking forward to your trip to South America?”

  “Indeed. It’s in my blood. I’m a descendant of Sir Martin Frobisher. He made three voyages to the New World to look for the Northwest Passage in the sixteenth century.”

  “And did he find it?”

  “It has yet to be navigated. But he had a sterling career.” He gave her an assessing smile, and rocked on his heels. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of Sir Martin, bays and ships and crescents have been named after him.”