Scandal

by Heather Cullman

  "Yes," she agreed, at a loss for anything better to say. "Pray do continue with your story."

  "As you might imagine, Caleb's disappearance left Bethany and Bliss in terrible straits. Not only was Bethany unable to earn enough to provide for her and her sister, but Bliss had developed a certain fascination with a pair of young thieves she had met on the street, and had begun to pick pockets. They were sharing a Westminster cellar with two other families at the time. Being fearful that her sister would be arrested, and desperate to give her a better life, Bethany sought out one of the noblemen who had offered her the post as his mistress when she was working at the wig shop, and sold herself to him."

  "Then it is his child she was carrying?"

  His features hardened to stone at her question. "Yes."

  "But you said that she was living in Westminster when you returned to London. If she was a nobleman's mistress and carrying his child-"

  "The bastard abandoned her when she discovered herself pregnant," he interrupted, "which forced her and Bliss to return to Westminster. It is where I found them, and not a moment too soon. Bethany most probably would have died, she was so weak with illness from her pregnancy. As for Bliss, I shudder at what would have become of her."

  "The man is a scoundrel and should be shunned from polite society-he will be shunned!" Julia declared, incensed that a man, especially a nobleman, would treat a woman with such callousness. "If you tell me his name, I shall make certain that he is cut from the ton."

  "If I knew his identity, I can assure you that he would suffer much worse than mere banishment from society. Unfortunately, Bethany has refused to tell me who he is."

  Julia frowned her bewilderment. "I cannot think why she would protect him after the beastly way he treated her."

  "It is me she seeks to protect. She is afraid that I might end up in jail, or worse, for what I might do to the bastard should I ever get my hands on him." He fell silent then, again staring out the window. Though he seemed composed, almost indifferent to the tragedy of what he had just imparted, the angry flickering of his jaw muscles told a far different tale, betraying the emotion ravaging his soul.

  Again Julia was tempted to reach out to him, and again she squelched the impulse. Needing to say something, to offer some sort of comfort, she murmured, "You were right. I did not understand about Bethany, but I do now. And I very much want to help her in any way I can. Bliss, too. All you have to do is tell me how."

  "Just be kind to them. Hate me if you must, but please be kind to my sisters." He looked at her then, and she saw the terrible bleakness in his eyes. "It is all that I shall ever ask of you."

  Julia nodded, her throat so tight with emotion that she could barely speak. "I promise that I shall love them like my own sisters. If we find Caleb alive, and I shall pray that we do, I will love him too." Impossible though it seemed, she was beginning to believe that she might someday find it in her heart to love Gideon as well.

  Chapter 15

  She had promised to love the Harwood sisters as much as she did her own. And it was a promise she had managed to honor thus far-well, at least in regard to Bethany, who was every bit as winning and wonderful as Gideon had claimed her to be. Bliss, on the other hand . . .

  Julia snipped a length of pale gold embroidery silk from the skein she held, heaving an inward sigh as she stole a glance at Bliss. The girl sat stiffly erect in an armchair by the drawing-room window, working the sampler Julia insisted she stitch. Though she looked demure enough in her white muslin gown and blue silk sash, with a pert, lace-trimmed day cap atop her smooth dark hair, her sullen expression and the viciousness with which she stabbed her needle into the coarse linen betrayed the explosive belligerence that Julia knew seethed just beneath the surface of her serene facade.

  As Gideon had warned, Bliss was difficult-beyond difficult-her rude behavior having quickly won her the dubious honor of being the most ungovernable brat Julia had ever met. To make matters worse, she seemed to have taken an inordinate dislike to Julia the instant she clapped eyes on her, and not a day had passed since that she had not acted upon her enmity, treating Julia with such hostility that one would have thought that she was an invading foe.

  Then again, perhaps that is what she perceives me to be, Julia thought, turning her attention to threading her needle.

  And who could blame her if she did? After the way Gideon had introduced them, an introduction that had consisted solely of his barked command that Bliss obey her, what else was the chit to think? Why, from the harshness with which he had thrust her and her authority into his sister's life, one would have thought that Julia's addition to the household was meant as a punishment, not the blessing the presentation of a new bride should have been. Add that infelicitous beginning to the way he had behaved since, and was it really any wonder that the girl resented her so?

  Julia sighed again, this time at the thought of Gideon. He was like a thundercloud about to erupt, dark and angry and brooding, treating her with icy detachment and the rest of the household with a glowering impatience that made them scurry skittishly out of his way whenever they spied him heading in their direction. To say that the atmosphere at Critchley Manor was tense would have been a sweeping understatement. Adoring her brother as she so obviously did, Bliss naturally blamed Julia for his ill humor and had on more than one occasion accused her of ruining his life.

  Now satin stitching the highlights in the lion's mane, the lion being one of several exotic beasts in the design she was embroidering on the needle case she was making for Maria's birthday, Julia admitted that she could not blame the chit for loathing her as she did. Had she been in Bliss's place, she might have felt much the same way, though, of course, she would have expressed her dislike in a more genteel fashion. No matter how upset one might be, it was never permissible to curse, or screech, or stamp one's feet like a savage on the warpath. One most certainly did not rip down the dining-room draperies in a fit of temper, as Bliss had done the day before when Julia had tried to correct her beastly table manners, or toss a pot of ink on another person's gown, which was Bliss's reaction to her efforts at improving the scrawling scribble the brat passed off as handwriting.

  Beyond frustrated by the situation, Julia tugged her thread too hard, ruining her stitch and bunching the fabric beneath it. It was impossible-Bliss was impossible! How was she to guide the horrid child when she refused to grant her so much as a civil word?

  Now adjusting her wayward stitch, Julia searched her mind for an answer, seeking the means to strike a truce with Bliss. When she had come to her wit's end and was still no closer to finding a remedy, she reluctantly considered taking her problem to Gideon and soliciting his assistance.

  Though Gideon had known Bliss a scant five months, having been pressed into the navy when she was little more than a baby, he appeared to possess at least a modicum of control over her. Well, he did if one were to judge from the way the brat metamorphosed into a lamb whenever she was in his presence. Then again, perhaps her good behavior stemmed less from control on Gideon's part and more from an eagerness on Bliss's part to please the man she no doubt viewed as her rescuing hero. Whatever the instance, a word from Gideon on her behalf was certain to go a long way in promoting peace. The question was: would he help her? Would he even listen to her appeal?

  Probably not, on both counts, Julia grimly decided, resuming her needlework. Though she would have thought such a thing impossible, her relationship with Gideon seemed to have worsened during the three weeks they had been in Lancashire, with Gideon absenting himself from the manor every day from dawn until well after dark, supposedly overseeing the estate. Secretly, Julia suspected that it was not so much estate business as a desire to avoid her that kept him away, a tactic that she had to admit worked very well indeed. To be sure, sometimes several days would pass without her catching so much as a glimpse of him. Why-

  "Bloody friggin' rag!" Bliss abruptly exclaimed.

  Julia looked up in time to see the girl's sam
pler hurling across the room.

  Thwack! Crash! It mowed down a delicate pair of Harlequin figurines, toppling them from the console table upon which they sat to shatter against the hard marble floor below.

  "Bliss! How could you!" she cried, tossing aside her own needlework to rush to where the once-beautiful statuettes lay in a rainbow of jagged shards. Kneeling down to examine the ruin, she added in a severe tone, "These figurines were made by Meissen, and are-were quite valuable. I cannot even begin to imagine what your brother will say when he discovers what you have done."

  The impossible chit, who now stood with her arms folded across her thin chest and her lower lip thrust out in an all-too-familiar pose of petulant defiance, shrugged one shoulder, visibly unrepentant. "He's hardly likely to notice since he's never here."

  She was right, of course, but Julia would be damned before she would let the crime pass unpunished. Determined that for once the brat would get her just reward, she rose to her feet, assuming her sternest expression and most authoritative stance as she countered, "In that case, you will tell him yourself."

  Bliss sniffed, a most scornful sound. "Oh? And whose gonna make me?" Another disdainful sniff. "You?"

  Reminding herself that she was an adult and must thus refrain from taking the brat's childish bait, no matter how sorely it chafed her to do so, Julia calmly but firmly replied, "If need be, yes. Furthermore, I expect you to clean up the mess you have made, after which you will go to your room, where you will wait until your brother returns home. At that time I shall fetch you and see to it that you make your confession and tender an appropriate apology." To her relief, her voice rang with a satisfying degree of command.

  Bliss stamped her foot, her gray eyes narrowing in a way that always signaled the onset of a tantrum. "I will not! I don't have to do nuttin' you say! You ain't the boss of me!"

  "Actually, I am," Julia coolly returned. "If you will recall, your brother put you in my charge. He also bid you to obey me, so I am indeed the boss of you."

  Bliss's eyes were little more than slits now. "Don't you dare talk to me about my brother," she flung back, her youthful voice growing shrill in her anger. "Everyone knows that he can't stand to be near you. It's the reason he ain't never here." Stamp! The soft sole of her kidskin slipper struck the floor with an emphatic thump. "He hates you"- stamp! stamp!-as much as I do." Stamp! "More, even! He'd be happy if you kicked the bucket--dancin' a bloody jig. We'd all be." Stamp! Stamp!

  "What a wicked, ugly thing to say!" Julia gasped, her palm itching to spank the brat. Not that she would ever do such a thing, no matter how tempting the prospect might be.

  "It's true!" Stamp! "It's true!" Stamp! Stamp! "True! True! True!" Stamp! Stamp! Stamp! In a frenetic blur of movement Bliss snatched up a nearby vase, flinging it against the wall as she flew toward the door.

  Well schooled by now in the brat's tactics, Julia hurtled to the right, effectively blocking her escape.

  With an infuriated screech, Bliss dodged first to the right, then to the left, and to the right again, trying to confuse Julia as to which direction she intended to race around her. In the next instant she seized a heavy marble bust from a nearby shelf and dashed it to the floor, striking so close to Julia's feet that she was forced to jump aside to save herself from being struck. Her move had what was no doubt the calculated effect, for it allowed Bliss to dart past her and out the door, which she closed behind her with a resounding slam.

  Recovering quickly from the shock of almost having her feet crushed, Julia stormed after her. She would not let the brat get away with such appalling behavior. Oh no, not this time. She was through with countering her tantrums with kindness, done with trying to understand them. What the chit needed was a lesson in discipline, a firm one, and she was going to get it. Now. If need be, she would physically drag Bliss back to the drawing room and force her to clean up the mess she had made, after which she would lock her in her room. It was high time the brat learned that such abominable behavior would not be tolerated.

  Julia's purposeful march down the newly plasterwork-ornamented hallway was accompanied by the chaotic din of hammering, a megrim-inducing racket that was punctuated now and again by shouted calls from the army of workmen who had by now become a fixture of the manor.

  For all that Gideon had told her about the Critchley heir bankrupting himself with the extravagance of his renovations, he had neglected to inform her that the man had run out of funds before finishing them. Thus Julia had arrived to find the house overrun with craftsmen of every description, and the structure itself engulfed in scaffolding and tarpaulins. There were also a million and one decisions to be made in regard to the work that as mistress she was naturally expected to make.

  Now coming to the noisy, workmen-deluged entry hall, through which Bliss would have passed in order to make her way to the garden, which was her preferred post-tantrum hiding place, Julia's progress was arrested by Mr. Stoppard, the London architect Gideon had hired to oversee the completion of the renovations.

  "My lady?" he hailed, waving what looked like yet another set of his endless design plans. "A moment, please?"

  Julia sighed, forcing herself to smile as the man approached. "Mr. Stoppard?" she replied, hoping that he would not detain her long. Once Bliss had hidden herself in the garden, she was all but impossible to find.

  The architect smiled and sketched a brief bow. He was a fine figure of a man, tall and elegantly slender, with a handsome face and a fine sense of fashion. "As you can see, my lady, things are progressing quite splendidly," he said, almost shouting in order to be heard over the sawing and hammering. "I must confess to being particularly pleased with the way the staircase came out. I do hope that you are equally delighted?" It was apparent from both his words and expression that he expected her to approve his work.

  Though Julia was tempted to approve it without a glance in her eagerness to bring Bliss to justice, she knew that it was her responsibility as mistress of the house to make certain that the completed work was indeed satisfactory. And since she had been schooled from the cradle to always honor such duties, she forced herself to turn her attention to the staircase, reluctantly resigning herself to the fact that she would have little chance of catching Bliss for the time lost in her pursuit. As she examined the architect's creation, she had to admit that he had every reason to be proud.

  Made of gold-veined white marble and railed with a gilt scroll-patterned ironwork balustrade, the wide, stately staircase rose from a vestibule of rich gold siena marble, branching off right and left halfway up to curve into the gallery above. It was a design that repeated itself for three more stories, forming a quartet of galleries that overlooked the magnificent entry hall below. Rows of bronze-crowned black marble columns adorned and supported each gallery, with the uppermost ones providing a buttress for a majestic

  glass-and-ironwork dome.

  "It is splendid, Mr. Stoppard. I cannot recall having ever seen a grander staircase, not even in London," she said sincerely. "I am quite certain that my husband will agree." Not that she actually expected Gideon to comment upon it, at least not to her. Truth be told, she was not sure that he even noticed the renovations, since she had never seen him spare any of them so much as a passing glance.

  The architect graced her with another smile, clearly gratified by her praise. "Excellent! I am glad you approve. Now about the ballroom floor ..."

  A half hour later Julia finally stepped out onto the back terrace that overlooked the Critchley gardens. Laid out in the Picturesque style, a style that prescribed to an informal arrangement of lush landscapes and meandering, serpentine avenues, viewing the gardens from here was rather like gazing upon a panorama of Old Master paintings. Scenes of untamed woodland dissolved into idyllic, sun-dappled glades; dreamlike wildernesses with romantic grottos gave way to glens where rustic bridges spanned tranquil lakes, and rainbows danced in the mists of sparkling cascades. Everywhere one looked were fanciful eye-catchers. There were arches and
obelisks, rustic cottages and Grecian temples-there was even a mock ruin of a castle that sat in a fairy-tale forest near the edge of a flower-strewn meadow.

  Though Julia knew that she would never find Bliss in this seemingly endless wonderland, she felt obligated to at least try. Who knew? For once, luck might actually favor her.

  She had just descended the terrace steps and was about to take the path to her left, which cut through a mazelike planting of hedges and trees, when someone called out to her from her right. Shading her eyes from the glaring midday sun, she peered in the direction from which the voice had come, cranking her neck to look through the arched stone gateway that led into the private family garden.

  It was Bethany, reclining on what Julia instantly recognized as the French chaise longue from the East drawing room. By her side sat a man she could not recall having ever seen before.

  "Julia!" Bethany called again, merrily waving her hand. "Do come! There is someone I would very much like for you to meet."

  Smiling, Julia did as requested, pleased to see Bethany up and about. To her knowledge, this was the first time she had left her bedchamber since losing her baby.

  At her approach the man rose, revealing himself to be almost as tall as Gideon and every bit as splendidly built. Bethany waited until she had stopped by her side before making introductions. "Julia, this is Mr. English. No doubt Gideon has told you all about him since he is practically a member of our family."

  Having been shielded from all unpleasantness while confined to her sickbed, Bethany was unaware of the trouble in her brother's marriage. Therefore she labored under the impression that he loved his new bride and that he thus confided everything to her. Not about to reveal the truth herself by admitting to a lack of communication with Gideon, Julia smiled, as if verifying the assumption, and nodded at their guest.

  "A pleasure, Mr. English."

  "And this, Mr. English, is Lady Julia, Gideon's bride, but of course you have already guessed as much," Bethany continued.