“One fur tippet does not seem much to show for my adventure,” Lucy complained.
“You should be thankful that is all you have to show for it,” Justina replied swiftly, pushing her friend up into the carriage while Darius secured the mule’s reins to the back of the barouche.
The journey home was much less interesting since she and Darius had to keep their separate seats a very proper distance apart. Lucy was no longer shy in his company and chattered away almost without pause, but Justina did not feel the urge to talk in any case. How odd it was, she mused, that Lucy—once so timid in Wainwright’s presence—should now make all the noise, while she had nothing to say to the gentleman. Nothing for the ears of other folk, that is.
And how ironic it was that the couple who caused a stir of concern that morning were perfectly innocent, whereas the couple of whom nothing could be suspected were, in fact, perfectly wicked.
***
When they arrived back in the village, Lucy responded with airy surprise to the concern of her friends. “I did not think any of you would notice I was gone.” There was no apology for having upset them all and made them imagine terrible things, but then she had always been a self-absorbed young lady, thought Justina.
“Fancy assuming I had eloped with Captain Sherringham.” Lucy chortled. “As if I am foolish enough to do that!”
Justina explained to Rebecca that her brother was attempting to get his life somewhat in order.
“I shall believe that when I see it,” Rebecca replied.
Diana quietly asked where he had gone and Justina, feigning ignorance of all the facts, would only say, “He plans to return one day. When the time is right.”
“I wish him every good fortune.” Diana turned away, her head bowed. It was several minutes before she was recovered enough to show her face again, and even longer before she could speak.
As for Lucy’s parents, they were so relieved to have her back again and in one piece, that she was not to be punished. Instead, she was pampered like a returned princess for several days. Anyone might think she’d sailed to China, not ridden halfway to Manderson on a mule, been transported the rest of the way in a curricle with Captain Sherringham, stayed for a few hours, bought a fur tippet, and come right home. At last she had the attention she’d always sought. It seemed likely she would talk of the event as “the time I ran away” until something more dramatic occurred to her. Which might well be never.
Justina could not even be annoyed with the girl, for the ride to Manderson had given her relationship with Darius a new level of intrigue and intimacy. They might never have had the chance to be alone again without fear of interruption. In that barouche he had, in fact, been her prisoner and utterly at her mercy. Hopefully she had persuaded him to stay a little longer.
***
He kept his promise of smiling more and she, in turn, kept hers of calling him Darius in private. As well as granting him kisses at every sly opportunity.
The thrill of their secret bargain was such that she almost burst at the seams with it. Her friends had all noticed that Darius Wainwright was seen out and about in the village much more than usual, but no one could guess why. Or rather, Justina did not think anyone could. She imagined she hid it rather well, exhibiting her new and improved discretion.
But one day at the haberdashers, when Justina was admiring a new patterned taffeta with the ladies of the Book Society, Darius and his stepsister came in, and it soon became apparent that at least one of her friends had noticed the deepening attraction between the two acknowledged opposites.
“Oh look, Jussy,” the cunning redhead, Rebecca Sherringham, whispered, “there is your special friend.”
“I cannot think of whom you speak, Becky,” Justina replied.
“Of course you can. I’m sure he only came in here to catch sight of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I expect he’s hoping for a chance to kiss you again while he thinks no one is watching.”
Alarmed, she glanced over at her sister and the other young ladies, but they were all absorbed in admiring a length of plaid now and comparing it to the other pattern. Justina grabbed her friend by the sleeve and hauled her across the shop to look at a display of buttons. “When did you see us?” There was little point in denying it. Her main concern now was containing the damage.
“Let me see!” Becky put a finger to her lips and rolled her sparkling gold-sprigged eyes. “Yesterday in the lane by the oak tree. This morning behind the Pig in a Poke—”
“I hope you haven’t told anyone else.”
Becky laughed. “Of all the people to fall for Mr. Wainwright, I suppose it just had to be you. Poor thing! Although I don’t know which of you to pity most.”
“Hush.” She quickly turned the button display, pretending to study it with great interest. “I have not—” Oh, no, he was coming toward them, his long stride echoing across the wooden boards.
“Good afternoon, Miss Justina, Miss Sherringham.”
They both greeted him, Justina mumbling and Becky being very loud and cheery. “You’re out shopping, Mr. Wainwright?” she said brightly.
“My stepsister is shopping. I am merely her escort.”
Justina knew he was looking at her, but she couldn’t raise her own gaze from the buttons, still recovering from Becky’s sudden accusation.
“I must thank you, Mr. Wainwright, for acting so swiftly the other day and going after Lucy and my thoughtless brother before rumors could spread. It was most kind of you to help us. I don’t know what we can ever do to repay you. Do you, Jussy?”
Darius fidgeted. In the corner of her eye, Justina could see his gloved fingers twitching at his coat cuffs and then hanging at his sides awkwardly. He was uncomfortable with gratitude, it seemed, or perhaps it was merely Becky’s boldness that made him shy. Justina swayed to one side quite casually and let her hand brush his little finger.
“It was my pleasure to help, Miss Sherringham.” His hand moved against hers more firmly, hidden by the pleats of her coat. Just from that touch her heart sped and she felt a smile pulling persistently on her lips.
His forefinger swept up and tickled her wrist. She swallowed a giggle, and Becky looked at her oddly.
Across the shop Lady Waltham began to bellow like a cow overdue for milking.
“Excuse me, ladies.” He gave a smart bow and walked quickly away.
Immediately Becky closed in. “You had better tell me what’s been going on, Justina Penny,” she whispered in a menacing fashion, one brow arched high and determined.
But Justina replied, “I could not possibly.”
And then her friend surprised her. “If you tell me your secret, I shall tell you one of mine.”
From the guilty paling under Becky’s freckles it was plain she had something burning to be let out, and the possibility of learning a juicy secret was more than Justina could resist. The two women moved behind a mannequin.
“Well? How far has it gone, Jussy? Must I take out my father’s flintlock? He has acquired a new one, you know, very smart, with a flick bayonet. I am quite impatient for an excuse to use it.”
“It is just a few kisses. That is all.” She shook her head. “He bribed me into it. Why? Who have you kissed?” Since Wainwright had taught her an important lesson about bargaining, she would say nothing more until she’d heard her friend’s story.
“I have kissed no one,” Becky whispered, “but there was a man once…” She looked down at her hands and adjusted her gloves. “My brother owed him a debt.”
Justina stared. “Go on.”
“It was five years ago, and before we came here. We were encamped at Brighton. My brother was going to give the man our mama’s music box to pay the debt, but I refused to part with it. That music box is all we have left of her.”
“Of course.”
<
br /> “So the man…well, he agreed to excuse my brother’s debt on one condition.”
Justina covered her mouth with her hand. “You never did!”
“Oh no, not that.” Becky chuckled. “He simply made me promise to owe him a kiss. The next time we met. You see, I was only seventeen and he said I was too young for him to kiss. But he forgave Nate’s entire debt to him just on that promise. Don’t you think that’s odd?” She looked away across the shop, her eyes growing misty. “He was an eccentric fellow and I never saw him again. Sometimes I imagine he will come back to claim his kiss.” Her shoulders shook in a little shiver that seemed more excited than fearful. “I don’t suppose he will now. But seeing you with Mr. Wainwright made me think of it again, after so long.”
Justina wasn’t sure she believed the story. Becky might have made it up, just to have something to share in return. “What was his name, then?”
The other young woman raised a hand to tidy her hair, glancing around nervously. “I only heard him called by one name, which was even odder. Everyone called him Lucky. That’s the only name my brother ever knew him by. He was perfectly horrid.”
“Then you should be glad he hasn’t found you again,” said Justina solemnly. “It is very hard to be bribed into kisses.” She turned her head and caught Wainwright watching her warmly. “As you say, it is perfectly horrid.”
Becky agreed. “I don’t suppose Elizabeth or Jane Bennet would ever be blackmailed into kisses.”
“True,” Justina replied, sighing wistfully as she watched his smile and realized that was now yet another kiss she owed him. “But they are fictional. It’s much more difficult to live in the real world. As they would discover, if they had our problems.”
Thirty
“Raining, again! Oh, this dismal place.” Mary glared out at the stream of water currently gushing against the rattling dining room windows.
“I think you’ll find it rains just as much in Town as it does in the country,” Darius replied croakily, flipping open a napkin.
“Why then does it feel so much worse? And colder, too. I’m quite certain it is never this cold and windy in Town.” She turned away from the grim view and took her seat at the breakfast table. “I shall say only this—the villagers here are incompetent, rude, and unobliging. There is no fashion here, no style, no conversation to be had that is worthwhile. I cannot think why you have remained here this long, Darius. What can be your excuse? I see nothing but a bunch of forward young ladies who will do anything for your attention.”
“I believe you just answered your own question, Mary.” He sneezed into his napkin and she eyed him sternly.
“What was that, Darius?”
Rather than answer, he screwed up his face and readied the napkin again.
“I hope you have not caught a cold, Darius. How could you?”
“I agree. The acquisition of this cold was a wretched decision. What was I thinking?”
“Now look at you! I have never seen you ill, Darius. Never! First of all you dash off with my carriage and not a word to anyone about where you’re going. And before you’re even shaved. Then you come back sneezing all over us.”
Augusta Milford grabbed the coffee pot and she poured it first for him. “You must drink lots of warm fluids, Mr. Wainwright.” The next thing he knew she was trying to cut up his sausages for him.
He quickly took the knife from her hand. “Thank you, Miss Milford, but I always eat them whole.”
She drew back.
Darius picked up his fork, speared a plump sausage and raised it thus to his lips, taking a large bite of one end.
The woman sat abruptly. “Well, goodness!”
“Don’t pay any mind to him, Augusta. A sick man is always best ignored and left to get over it. He will be grumpy and tedious, like a teething babe. It is his fault entirely, and I have no sympathy.”
In fact he wasn’t very hungry at all, but the last thing he wanted was Augusta Milford fussing over him.
“We really ought to make plans for travel,” Mary continued. “I have already left my darling little ones far longer than I should, just to bring you back to civilization.”
“I wish you had not bothered.”
“But someone had to fetch you.”
“I certainly can’t travel now,” he muttered. “Not with this cold.”
“I hope you didn’t catch it from one of those women. Wasn’t one of them sick not too long ago? Ugh.” She shivered dramatically. “I shall say only this—the country is the most appallingly dirty place, so very unhealthy. Too many people crammed into little rooms, all breathing the same fetid air. These country folk have no sense of hygiene. I shudder to think of touching any of them.”
He put down his sausage. “And vice versa, I’m sure.”
“What was that?” she demanded shrilly.
He sniffed. “I know plenty of people in Town with whom I would never want to shake hands.”
To his relief the front door bell clanged.
“Well, who on earth could that be?” Mary exclaimed. “Who would come out in such weather?”
A few moments later Mrs. Birch brought two drenched visitors to the dining room. Miss Sherringham and Justina.
Didn’t she even possess an umbrella? he mused. The wayward Miss Penny looked bedraggled as a cat left out all night in a rainstorm. She stood there, making a puddle on his carpet, probably leaving a stain.
And he thought how lovely she was. Belatedly he remembered his manners, stood, and bowed from the waist.
A sneeze shot out of him.
“Bless you!” the new arrivals chorused.
Miss Sherringham gave him a wide smile. “Jussy has agreed to write parts for you all if you would like to join the Priory Players. I do hope your impression of us was not tainted already by what happened at the card party, Lady Waltham. We would be honored to have you take part. I’m sure it will be the highlight of the play.”
Miss Sherringham, he concluded, was a canny young woman to have read Mary’s vanity already and known exactly how to appeal to it. Very soon his stepsister was persuaded there might not be so much hurry for her to return to her “darling little ones” after all. Not when she could lend her talents to the Priory Players.
“Will Dockley’s barn be a fit place to rehearse in all this rain?” Darius asked, trying to hold back another sneeze.
“We did not yet collect enough donations to get the roof fixed, but we have some old sail cloth to cover the worst of the holes. Besides, we’ve managed well enough in the past.” Rebecca Sherringham’s eyes were rich, treacle brown, surveying him with a knowing shine. “Will you join us too, Mr. Wainwright? We can always make use of handsome gentlemen in the cast.”
“Good Lord, no!” exclaimed Mary. “Darius would never set foot on a stage.”
He gave in to another sneeze that almost knocked him back into his chair. Justina immediately suggested she fetch her father.
“’Tis only a cold,” he mumbled.
“But a bad cold can always develop into much worse,” she replied, hurrying across the room to grip his jacket sleeve between her thumb and forefinger in what had already become a familiar way to him. “Let’s get you to bed, Mr. Wainwright.”
He went meekly, with only a token drag of heel, his stepsister’s frown carving her irritation into his back.
***
Darius would not hear of her going for her father on foot and insisted she take his stepsister’s barouche. Justina saw Lady Waltham’s infuriated glances, but the matter was settled quickly. Despite his quiet ways, Darius Wainwright usually got what he wanted, so she found.
Within a half hour she returned to Midwitch with her father and found the master of the house in his bedchamber. Of course it would be improper for the other ladies to enter, but they hovered at his door, feigning concern. Justina felt that
if his stepsister was truly anxious, she would have sent him to bed already that morning and called for the doctor. As for Miss Milford, her concern, as usual, was about herself and her place in the pecking order.
“I must be the one to sit with him, for I have known him longest, and Lady Waltham’s health is too fragile to be endangered with the task of nurse.”
Justina’s father merely smiled as he donned his “doctoring” wig—an item he avoided unless it was absolutely necessary, for he said it made him itch. “My daughter has attended many a bedside with me, madam. I’m sure she can be trusted to manage the gentleman. Unless he thinks otherwise.”
There was no complaint uttered from inside the room, so her father shut the door on both the other ladies, leaving them out in the hall with Miles Forester, who quickly urged them away with the promise of entertainment and, most importantly, a warm fire in the drawing room.
Keen to prove herself capable, Justina stood at the patient’s bedside with her father, ready to wipe the sick man’s brow with a cool cloth. Not that it was nearly as hot as she expected.
“I blame myself, Mr. Wainwright,” she said solemnly. “You should not have walked us home after the party in that bitter cold last week.”
He looked up at her from his pillow. “But you are quite well.”
“I am of strong country stock, sir.”
“You mean a dandified Town gent like me is too delicate for your weather?”
“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?”
He coughed feebly. “Then, since it’s your fault, you must stay and nurse me, until I am fit and well. You must not leave my side or I fear my decline will be rapid. Perhaps even”—he paused for another cough—“fatal.”
Justina glanced nervously at her father, but Dr. Penny was humming softly as he examined the patient. She threw Darius a warning look.
He gave a frail sigh. “Otherwise, Miss Milford might get her way.”
Hmm. Perhaps she ought to stay and look after him. Wouldn’t want Miss Milford to have her way with him.
Her father was in agreement. “You stay here, Jussy, and see him through the worst of it.” Although it was merely a cold, he exaggerated the situation to such an extent that even Wainwright looked alarmed. “That fire must be built up at once,” her father exclaimed, “and you, Jussy, must make him some of your good broth and a compress for his head. I’m sure Mrs. Birch has some goose grease for his chest. I shall leave you powders for a mustard bath. Make sure he rests. Keep him warm to chase out the fever.” He itched under his wig with one finger, knocking it to one side so she had to straighten it for him again. “I cannot stay, but I’m sure your mama can spare you at home. If Mr. Wainwright has no objection. You should be where you are needed, Jussy.”
Once Upon a Kiss (Book Club Belles Society) Page 29
