The Folly at Falconbridge Hall

by Maggi Andersen

  “You’ve whetted my appetite. I shall make it a goal to read about him. You don’t leave a wife and children behind?” He didn’t bear the settled appearance of a married man and had apparently come without a lady on his arm.

  A spark appeared in his brown eyes. “No. Fancy free to seek out what most interests me.”

  “And what interests you most on these trips?”

  “The multitude of exotic animal species. It’s a fascinating continent with sloths, snakes, alligators and piranha, to name but a few.” He had a way of looking at her that made her suspect his interests lay with the feminine sex as well.

  “What is a piranha?”

  “Little fish that will strip the flesh off your bones if you let them.”

  She shivered. “Ugh.”

  Mr. Frobisher laughed. “They don’t pique your interest?”

  “They do, from a distance. I gather they have very sharp teeth.”

  “I could let you have my journal articles to read.” His eyes brightened. “That’s if you really are interested and not just being polite.”

  “Thank you. I’d very much like to read them.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julian’s head bowed to listen to something Miss Patterson was saying.

  “You’ll find many of my specimens displayed at the British Museum of Natural History.”

  She tried to follow Charles Frobisher’s conversation while her thoughts remained on Julian. “I’ll take Blythe to see them. It will prove most educational.”

  “I could take you both and add my observations. Be happy to.”

  “But aren’t you travelling to the Amazon with my husband?”

  He shook his head. “I hope to join the men later. My father’s not well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  Julian had left Miss Patterson’s side and walked toward them, pausing to speak to people along the way.

  “Mr. Frobisher has been telling me about snakes and piranha,” Vanessa said when Julian reached them. “It’s enthralling.”

  “Always glad to have an opportunity to talk about them,” Mr. Frobisher said. “You have saved your lovely wife, Grieve. Another minute and I would have launched into the minutiae.”

  “It seems I have,” Julian said with a thin smile. He took Vanessa’s arm. “I hope you’ll excuse us, Charles. I wish to introduce Vanessa to Mrs. Manion.”

  Charles winked. “A worthy lady, Mrs. Manion, with a generous purse.”

  Julian’s hand tightened at her elbow as he led her away. She studied his serious profile. “Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong? No, of course not.”

  “I thought Charles was your friend.”

  “Colleague, more like.”

  “He offered to escort Blythe and me to the natural history museum.”

  Julian turned to her, his gaze fierce. “I forbid it.”

  “You forbid it?” She could only stare at him.

  “You are not to go anywhere with Frobisher. Do I have your promise?”

  “If you tell me why you don’t wish it.”

  Julian drew her into an alcove out of earshot. She was startled to find his eyes hot with anger. “I don’t wish to discuss the reason. I’m asking you to obey me.”

  “I must say I didn’t expect you to turn into a bully.” Dismayed, Vanessa huffed out a breath. “I only wished to know the reason.”

  “I’m sorry you think that of me,” he said stiffly. “Here comes Mrs. Manion, who has expressed a desire to meet you. For heaven’s sake smile and look as if it’s mutual.”

  Stunned at him ordering her about in such a way, Vanessa fell silent as a grey-haired lady dressed in maroon silk with magnificent rubies at her breast and swinging from long ear lobes, approached. She made a poor attempt at smiling and walked forward to greet the lady.

  After that, she tried to enjoy herself, but Julian’s dictates had soured her mood. During the carriage trip home, Vanessa turned to study Julian’s profile. What had caused such unreasonable anger in her husband? It was so uncharacteristic she felt all at sea.

  “Julian?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you enjoy the evening?”

  “I did. Did you?”

  “Yes, until you turned into a tyrant, and I’m not sure why.” She hoped he would find his sense of humor. It had certainly deserted him.

  “A tyrant?” In the dark carriage, she couldn’t make out his expression, but she was sure he wasn’t smiling. “That’s an extravagant description. I hardly think it right.”

  “You raised your voice to me. You…ordered me about as if I were a child or your servant.”

  He frowned. “I doubt that, Vanessa. I would never exhibit such poor control over my emotions. You’re overreacting. I expect this has all been a strain. You’ll handle things better when you gain more experience of society.”

  He was being insufferable! “I will never handle it, as you put it, if you continue to behave in such a manner. Surely, I did nothing to warrant it. ”

  There was a strained silence. Never had she had the courage to speak so. She was as shocked by this quarrel as he, but she refused to take the blame for it.

  “I’m sorry. I apologize if I behaved badly. I had my reasons, and I rather hoped you would understand.”

  How neatly he batted the blame back at her! She bit down on the frustration at not being able to get the better of him in an argument. He had retreated into cool formality and didn’t sound at all sorry. He made no move towards her. She bit her lip and lapsed into silence.

  The rest of the trip continued in moody silence. Regretful of her hasty words, she still felt angry at the unfairness of it. She thought she’d acquitted herself well during the evening, and yet, not a word of praise or support had issued from his lips.

  Unfortunately, another test loomed. A tennis party, another skill she lacked, had been arranged for the next Sunday after church. Would she be required to play? The thought knocked the fight out of her.

  When they reached the bedroom door, Julian shocked her by bidding her goodnight. “I have some urgent work to do in my study.”

  A sob bubbled up in Vanessa’s throat. What had happened? She pulled on her nightgown and lay stiffly in bed. The hours passed, but her busy thoughts wouldn’t allow her to rest.

  She heard Julian retire to his room and wondered if he had managed to fall asleep. Never go to sleep on an argument, her mother had always said. And barely wed, that’s exactly what they’d done. Although what the argument was really about left her baffled.

  She turned on the lamp hoping he might see it and come in. The glow banished the shadows but also any possibility of sleep. Before she could think too much about it, she was on her feet. Opening their interconnecting door, she could just make out the outline of his body in the bed. Drawn to his side, she stared down at him. The light shining in from the other room cast shadows, and she couldn’t discern his face. She wasn’t sure if he slept.

  A hand reached out and grabbed hers. She was pulled onto a hard chest and settled on the bed beside him. Without speaking, he arranged the covers over her. Lodged against his chest in the confined space, she could feel his heart beating fast, in rhythm with hers.

  “I can’t sleep after an argument, can you?” she asked him breathlessly. Lying beside him like this made her want him.

  “No,” he said gruffly. “It was unreasonable of me, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. I should have—”

  His mouth found hers and swept away all rational thought.

  *****

  Vanessa would have liked to clear the air, discuss what had happened and the reason behind it, but Julian’s alternative proved a better one, for after the lovemaking, peace settled between them. Perhaps it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. He had been right. Making love proved to be even more wonderful as she discovered more about his body and he, hers. She wondered briefly if he had been jealous, but it was obvious there was more to it. He appeare
d to heartily dislike Charles.

  “How can you work and travel with someone you dislike so much?” she asked when they lay drowsily replete.

  “This is bigger than anything I feel. The expedition has need of his expertise.” He moved away, settling his head on the pillow. “I’m sorry I was short-tempered.”

  “I would never deliberately disobey you. I simply wanted to know why,” she said mildly, not wishing to upset him and spoil the mood.

  He chuckled. “You mean you would never disobey me if you thought I was fair.”

  She smiled.

  He propped himself up on his elbow. “Then I suppose it might be better to tell you, no matter how unpalatable a truth it is. During our last trip, Charles forced some of the native tribe’s women to have intercourse with him.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Oh, some were willing. He took part in their orgies for days, drinking their cashiri beer and fermented liquors made from corn and bananas. They’re quite intoxicating.”

  Vanessa felt revolted. “That’s horrid.”

  “These practices go on and are seen as quite acceptable by some. Not by me, however. Europeans do not always behave well when travelling through less developed countries, I’m afraid.”

  “I most certainly won’t see him while you are away.”

  “Good,” Julian said with a note of satisfaction. He yawned and turned over. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  Vanessa curled up on her side, disappointed he still hadn’t praised her for her successful debut amongst his friends and associates. She wished he hadn’t turned away from her to sleep. But then his breathing deepened, and he settled closer. His hand stole across to rest on her hip. The promise of deep and peaceful sleep hovered close. More confident in her own skin, she felt as if she’d found her true self. She knew what she wanted and didn’t want. What she was prepared to fight for. The realization made her start. She had so much more now to lose.

  Chapter Thirteen

  To Vanessa’s dread, Sunday morning dawned sunny and warm. The Lord had not answered her selfish prayer for rain. Preparations were already underway for the tennis party when she went to speak to Mrs. Royce before breakfast. Jugs of lemonade were being prepared, the housekeeper informed her. Ice was to be brought from the icehouse for the drinks and to chill the wine. The fragrant aromas of bread and almond cakes, recently removed from the ovens, mingled with the chickens roasting to make filling for sandwiches.

  Vanessa found Julian and Blythe in the breakfast room tackling eggs and toast. He gave her outfit an approving glance. “I like that; is it new?”

  She straightened the wide sailor collar of her lawn-tennis costume in green-striped flannel. “Yes, I bought it at Harrods.”

  Blythe fiddled with the strings of her father’s tennis racket. “May I play, Father?”

  “I daresay. There are children coming today.”

  “Girls?” Blythe asked hopefully.

  “No. The Forsters’ two boys. Fourteen and sixteen years old, I believe.”

  “I suppose the court will be in great demand,” Vanessa said, registering Blythe’s disappointment.

  “Will you play, too, Nessa?” Blythe asked.

  “I shall be busy attending to the guests.”

  “Nonsense,” Julian said. “We have capable staff for that. You are to form a four as my partner.”

  After spooning a portion of egg onto a plate, she slid in beside him at the table. “But I’ve never played tennis.”

  “It’s not that hard. You just hit the ball.”

  “I’m sure you can do it, Nessa,” Blythe said with an encouraging smile.

  Vanessa’s mouth dried and she put down her fork. Another episode like the riding catastrophe loomed. “Are there not enough to make a four without me?”

  “Yes. But how will you learn if you never play?” he asked her, exhibiting his usual unarguable logic.

  She searched for some compassion in his gaze, some sign he understood her plight. She found only determination to overcome. It was his way of dealing with everything. She sighed and firmed her lips. “And supposing I don’t wish to learn?”

  “I won’t insist, of course,” he said, but the light in his eye told her he wasn’t giving in gracefully. “You didn’t wish to ride either, as I remember.”

  And I still don’t, she thought. “Very well.”

  He nodded with a slight smile. “We’ll have time before the guests arrive. If you’ll join me at the court after church, I’ll give you a few pointers.”

  “Me too, Father?” Blythe said, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents.

  *****

  Tables placed around the lawns were laid for the light repast, their linen cloths sparkling white, silverware and crystal glowing. Maids in their black dresses walked up and down the path from the kitchen. The pantry boy, Jeremy, a lad of sixteen, strutted about in his footman’s garb, full of importance.

  Vanessa stood beside the court watching, a coat around her shoulders. The morning was rapidly cooling as a bank of clouds moved in heralding a rain shower. A swift rush of relief was followed by guilt.

  With a bucket of balls at his feet, Julian tapped a ball over the net to Blythe. She ran to it and swung the racket. The ball flew sideways.

  “Again.” Julian bent to pick up another ball.

  This time it bounced once before hitting the net. “Take your arm back farther before you hit it,” Julian called. “Ready?”

  They played for several minutes until Blythe managed to hit the ball over the net. “Right, your turn, Vanessa.”

  Dread weighing her down, Vanessa discarded her coat and grabbed the heavy wooden racket. She walked onto the court and faced her athletic husband at the other side of the net. Every movement he made was disciplined. He hit the ball to her, and she rushed forward, the racket outstretched in her hand. After a giant swing, she watched in horror as it bounced past her. She hadn’t even connected! Her face heated, and she stole a glance at him.

  “Again.” Was he gritting his teeth?

  She managed to connect with the next, driving it into the ground at her feet.

  “Turn side on to the ball. Ready?”

  She sank into despair, quite sure she never would be. But with a glance at Blythe’s keen face, Vanessa glued her eyes to the ball as it came towards her. She balanced on her feet and took a swing. The ball hit the center of the racket and flew back at Julian’s feet. He was so surprised he didn’t move.

  “You should have hit it, Father,” Blythe called.

  Vanessa tried to swallow the laugh and failed. She shrugged helplessly at Julian. He had the grace to laugh.

  “I say, what a good shot,” a voice said from behind her.

  She swiveled to see Lord Forster standing there, watching.

  “Pure luck.” She walked towards him. “As you will see should I play again.”

  “I do hope you will partner me,” he said. “Hello, Grieve. Sorry, are we a bit early?”

  “Not at all, my good fellow.” Julian tucked the racket under his arm and strode out to shake his hand. “We have time to go over a few things in my study before the others arrive.” He glanced back at Vanessa. “I’m sure you have things to attend to also, my dear.”

  Vanessa watched them walk away up the path. She enjoyed a tiny thrill. She had bested Julian. It would not happen often.

  The thought vanished as Miss Patterson, wearing a white blouse and skirt, walked out onto the terrace with the rest of the guests. Vanessa was sure she excelled at tennis. She waved and went to join them.

  The day passed without incident, even the sunlight broke free from the clouds. The guests seemed to enjoy themselves. Blythe chatted to one of the Forster’s boys. In a few years, she would have a crowd of young men clustered around her. Vanessa, flushed with success at hitting more balls than she missed, joined the group lounging in chairs under umbrellas. She accepted a glass of lemonade from Jeremy and made for the vacant chair. When Lord Forster got up to play,
she found herself next to Abigail Patterson and Charles Frobisher. Their conversation stopped abruptly as they turned to acknowledge her presence.

  “You play very well, Lady Falconbridge,” Charles said.

  “How kind of you, but how untrue,” Vanessa said with a laugh. In his white shirt, his hair a brilliant gold, he was undoubtedly a handsome man, but there were lines of dissipation already forming beneath his eyes, or was she embellishing on what Julian had told her about him?

  “Not at all,” he said with a grin. “I was enjoying your form.”

  Before Vanessa could think of something to say, Abigail rose. “I wonder if you’d like to take a stroll around the gardens, Mr. Frobisher.”

  “That’s too attractive an offer to refuse,” Charles said. He nodded at Vanessa. “You have a fine park here, Lady Falconbridge.”

  She watched them stroll off arm in arm.

  When they returned an hour later, Abigail’s hair had escaped in tendrils over her neck. She left Charles and headed for the house, no doubt to tidy it. Vanessa wondered if she should warn the young woman, but what could she say without breaking Julian’s confidence? It was really no concern of hers. Julian ran across the court in pursuit of a ball and hit it over the net with a cry of triumph. He would not welcome what he would see as histrionics. She thrust the idea away. She had more pressing concerns. Julian was leaving in a few days.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Holding Blythe’s hand, Vanessa watched Julian’s boat steam away down the River Thames. A light misty rain dampened her straw hat, causing the brim to droop. At her side, Blythe also drooped.

  The farewell had been brief. Julian had drawn Vanessa close, and she’d tried not to cling to him. His familiar manly smell made her bite her lip to stop the tears. “I know you’ll take good care of Blythe,” he’d whispered, his warm breath on her neck. “But take care of yourself, too. I’ll write as soon as I can.”