by Amelia Hart
"I imagine not." He accepted her choice, but the look he turned on Mr Holbrook seemed to her empty of friendship. "I must think myself indebted to you for your care for the children's governess. A great kindness."
"Please think nothing of it."
"If you insist," he said without hesitation, and Julia was certain he had known of their mutual disappearance before the snow began to fall. Could she mend this? Should she? He did not seem angry at her, though compassion was a rare thing when it came to questions of female virtue.
She swayed in the saddle and he stepped forward to assist her down, moving at the same moment as Colin, who checked himself and turned away, brushed himself down and then took the reins to hold his horse steady.
It was not necessary. The well-trained beast stood firm as a rock as Mr Carstairs hands settled around her waist, lifted her and put her on the ground.
"Are you comfortable walking?"
"I'm sure I'll be fine," she said, embarrassed by his solicitousness. She slanted a glance at Colin and found him watching her, a peculiar tightness around his mouth. She looked away and moved towards the house, eager to be gone from the awkwardness of the moment.
"You must stay the night of course, Mr Holbrook." Mr Carstair's voice was loud enough to carry to her. She paused, waited. "The road to Hazelwood will be completely snowed under. We can send a servant for your baggage in the morning." Julia held her breath.
"You are very kind. That is an excellent idea," said Colin, and Julia walked on without looking back. Under the same roof again tonight. Would he seek her out, thinking she was his to claim? His morals were so lax, really he might do anything at all.
The instant she was inside and within the domains of the housekeeper she was fussed over, bundled in a warm rug and hurried up to her bedroom. One of the serving girls - firmly commanded by the housekeeper - brought a bowl of warm soup and a cup of sweet, milky tea on a tray. Julia was tucked into bed, with injunctions to get warmed up interspersed with leading comments about rescues by handsome young men and the heart palpitations that must surely follow.
Julia stayed silent, allowed her stained dress to be unbuttoned and put aside, the blankets snugged around her, and waited for her unwanted attendant to leave. The slender woman lingered on, fussing about the small chamber.
"Dreadful business. Dreadful. You must have been so frightened. All alone. Waiting for someone to come, someone to find you."
Julia slid her eyes closed and prayed the woman would leave her to the silence of her own thoughts, and the soup she longed to quaff. It smelled heavenly.
"Where did you say Mr Holbrook found you?"
Julia breathed in deep, slow breaths, then released the faintest hint of a snore.
The housekeeper waited a few seconds, then sighed in frustrated curiosity and let herself out of the room. The moment the latch caught, Julia was upright and reaching for the bowl of soup, still warm despite its long journey up from the kitchen. She slurped it up with an ungraceful haste that would have shocked her young charges, and finished off the tea in three long swallows, the liquids forming a warm ball in the empty core of her.
The soft bed accepted her back into the hollow of it, and she lay and looked at the bleak sky out of the window, trying to think past a confused cacophony of fear and excitement to what tomorrow might bring. After several minutes she got out of bed again and crossed the small room to the door, and flicked the latch to lock it. Then she got back into her bed and curled up into a tight ball.
Married. She was to be married. To Colin Holbrook. Oh heavens.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Everywhere there were whispers and sideways looks. The entire household knew of her adventure, knew of the official version of the story, and doubted it. She could only thank God she had accepted Colin's proposal. News of their impending marriage would whitewash everything else.
She had set the children a range of mathematical equations as complicated as their individual abilities would allow, with instructions for the elder to help the younger if need be. Then she escaped, unable to bear the suspense of waiting.
What would he say? How would he make the announcement? What of the marriage itself?
The hallway to the breakfast room had altogether too many servants for her comfort, hurrying with serving platters. Mr and Mrs Carstairs must have only just come down to breakfast. And their guest, Mr Holbrook?
Her palms were sweating. It felt a kind of insanity to charge into the unknown like this, but she would not wait to discover her fate. She could see the sideways glances, the faces tilted her way, hear whispers behind her. She ignored them all, as if her conscience was clear.
What, she the victim of scandalous abduction by an acknowledged rake of the ton, alone in his nefarious company for hours on end while he worked his wicked wiles on her, seducing in some depraved way?
Never.
Innocent. Pure. Blameless. That must be her pretense.
Also in love, in all sweetness of trust and folly. That was allowable.
At the door to the breakfast room she hesitated, gazing at the ornately over-sized knob, polished and gleaming, luminous and terrifying.
The plump girl beside and a little behind her huffed with impatience, shifted her tray to a single forearm and came forward to open the door then swept through it without hesitation, her skirts whisking like a briskly wielded broom.
Julia followed silently in her wake, watchful and wary.
The Carstairs and Mr Holbrook were there, sitting stiffly at attention, the air between them heavy with interrupted conversation as they waited for the servants to be done.
"Such a lovely morning. Remarkable when you consider yesterday's storm," said Mrs Carstairs, her eyes on the tall windows. Sunlight streamed through them, harsh after the dimness of the hall, with the brilliance of snow reflection.
"Very changeable weather," Colin agreed, his gaze on his water glass. His hand was over the base of it, laid almost flat on the table, and his face in profile. She felt heat unfurl within her to look at him outlined in light; masculine perfection in an elegant morning suit.
Hers. He was hers, and soon it would be known. Something fierce moved in her heart, so it was hard to be sedate and come forward with ladylike small steps, unobtrusive and light when she wanted to announce her claim.
She knew the moment he realized she was there, saw the sharp turn of his head and the warmth that came into his eyes. There. He was glad to see her. He did not regret his words yesterday, or her decision. He might not love her forever but for now he imagined he did, and she took strength from it.
He stood, as did Mr Carstairs when he saw her standing there. Looking away from Colin, Julia aimed for cool poise, inclined her head respectfully to Mrs Carstairs and then Mr Carstairs.
"Miss Preston, please join us for breakfast." Mrs Carstairs waved a peremptory hand, a smile on her pretty face that did not quite reach her eyes. "Cummins, lay another place please. Are you feeling well this morning? You look in good spirits."
"Thank you. Yes, I'm quite recovered, I think."
"We can be glad you took no lasting harm. All credit to Mr Holbrook?"
Julia heard the faint question, a repeat of Mr Carstairs tactful enquiry the day before. She met Mrs Carstair's blue-eyed gaze with apparent calm, carefully refusing to consider the undercurrents and squirm with the embarrassment she truly felt.
"So kind of him to trouble himself," she said, as if he had done no more than fetch her shawl from the next room.
"I could hardly do otherwise, of course," said Colin, his tone meaningful, and she shot him a startled look. What had he said to them? Had he made the announcement already?
But no, they too seemed surprised, looking from her to him with eyebrows raised.
"I take the greatest pleasure in telling you Miss Preston is to make me the happiest of men."
His announcement adhered her to the chair she had just taken. Her mouth fell open. So. It was done.
Mrs
Carstairs was the first to speak, as she stood, the two men immediately standing also again. Mrs Carstairs hurried around the table, her hands outstretched to take Julia's, her eyes wide and worried though her lips curved.
"Oh, such a great, a very great decision to make. With such substantial consequences. Not to be hurried into of course, with a lifetime to consider. And marriage is of course a blessed state, but only with the greatest of affection present." Her words tripped over themselves, anxiety bubbling visibly beneath the smiling surface of her face.
"I agree absolutely," said Julia, and gave her a smile that also pretended to be calm.
Mr Carstairs said something jovial and loud, and clapped Mr Holbrook on the shoulder then drew him away and to one side, talking at him without pause.
Mrs Carstairs inspected her face, her eyes narrowing. "We had thought," she began carefully, "your affections might be engaged elsewhere. And very naturally of course, with such a worthy object."
How could she answer that charge? Julia hesitated, smiled again uncomfortably, and felt her hands sympathetically squeezed. It gave her the courage to say quietly - at a volume she hoped would escape the servant's straining ears - "I can't imagine anyone would disregard the kindness and attentions I have received from- from various quarters. I certainly do not. Yet I find a separation of some months from Mr Holbrook has not made our- in short, I do not- I am happy with my choice, Ma'am."
"You must know nothing compels you, Julia," murmured Mrs Carstairs, barely louder than a whisper. "With our support, no one need hear anymore of this adventure of yours than has already been spoken of. Or if you prefer, you may break the engagement at a later time and we will put about that you discovered you did not suit. Marriage is for a lifetime. I do not believe in imprisoning a young woman where she will suffer."
"Suffer?" said Julia, just as softly, and let a little of her feelings onto her face, the simmering excitement and terror. "I do not think suffering is the correct word. Not at all."
"Oh my dear," breathed Mrs Carstairs, and squeezed her hands again. "Oh my dear, his reputation is very bad. Are you sure?"
"I shall not change my mind. I am determined."
"Then I wish you well. I trust that- Oh, be happy. I pray you will be happy."
In Mrs Carstairs' face Julia recognized the same sick uncertainty that roiled inside her when she thought too hard about Colin's past, about his perfection set against her own flaws. Mrs Carstairs saw the impossibility of it too.
Julia shut her eyes, took another deep breath and then opened them, a bright smile fixed on her face. "I am determined," she repeated, clinging to the words, the purpose behind them.
"Then I can only offer you my warmest blessings."
Julia tried not to see the pity at the back of the woman's eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"Mr Kingsley, may I speak with you for a moment?" Julia asked. Her stomach churned.
"Of course," he said with quick warmth, and reached out as if to take her hand. She withdrew it and he must have seen the small movement for he checked and changed the offer to a slight turn as he indicated the door. "Shall we walk?"
She inclined her head and together they went out of the door to the terrace.
"Perhaps up and down here," he suggested, "for I'm sure you don't want to go far from the house." He was right: it was a blustery day and she regretted being outside in the wind. But inside were the Carstairs and the children, and somewhere in the house would be Colin, as well. She did not want anyone walking in on them.
"You are so thoughtful. You are always so thoughtful." She closed her eyes for a brief moment, seized her courage firmly and began. "Mr Kingsley I find myself in a very uncomfortable position. We recently spoke of a matter close to our hearts, and at that time we were in agreement. However something has occurred since then that has altered matters-"
"Mr Holbrook?"
"I-" she looked up at him, shot through with remorse, and faltered.
"It is Mr Holbrook, I see. Say no more. There is no need to be discomfited. I'm disappointed, of course." Now he did take her hand, and she allowed him, feeling very small inside. "I think I have lost a great prize, and can only wish I was a less cautious man, and had moved more swiftly."
"Mr Kingsley, you are too kind," she choked out.
"But are you sure you can be happy? You implied that - I am sorry if this is an uncomfortable question - but you implied he was not entirely an honorable man. I can't think you would continue to be happy with someone you could not admire."
"You- I agree, but I find I cannot act with impartial good sense-"
Resolution was firm on his blunt-featured face. "If you are being compelled against your will, only say the word. It will not be allowed-"
"No, you misunderstand me." She was ashamed to be honest but said the words anyway, like a penance. "It is only I knowingly make a decision that is not the choice of my rational mind. I find I cannot always be as careful and as prudent as I would like."
He sighed. "And you do not care enough to be imprudent with me instead of Mr Holbrook."
"Oh, Mr Kingsley, you are surely the choice of any prudent woman."
"In this moment it feels like small consolation. No, I am sorry for saying that, when I said I would not discomfit you. Do not look so woebegone. My fit of the sullens will soon pass. Come, let us go back inside before you take cold. We will say no more about it."
He was true to his word, and though Julia might easily have gone on trying to mend the rift between them, he was politely implacable, leading her back inside to the warm and talking to her of polite nothings, as they had when they first met. She felt the distance he set between them, and was sorry for it. Such a kind man, who deserved every good thing. But there was only one of her and - having chosen Colin - she had to disappoint him. She felt wretched about it, and seeing the narrow-eyed look Mr Holbrook gave the two of them did not improve her mood.
"I hope you are happy," she hissed at him when he came close enough for a private word. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I have just made a very good man disappointed."
"Have you?" instantly his expression was transformed into sunshine. "Then I am happy, yes. I shall feel sorry for him with great compassion."
"You need not look so pleased about it."
"Very well," he said, and hid his smile. "Better?"
"Oh, go away!" she told him crossly. He lifted her hand, kissed it and - when she snatched it away and scowled at her, grinned once more and left her to fume.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The church was frigidly cold. Julia could see her breath in little puffs. When Colin took her hand the heat of his fingers - even through his gloves - was shocking. He smiled down at her and she tried to smile back through a miasma of terror. Every instinct told her she would regret this moment.
He was so handsome. So impossibly perfect, impeccably dressed and almost gleaming with the blessings nature had bestowed on him.
She felt like a charlatan in her borrowed finery, as lovely as she had ever been and yet worlds different from him. It was impossible a man such as him wanted her.
It was impossible that she herself wanted him, tarnished in character, wicked and dissipated. But she did, despite herself. She wanted his love with a fierce hunger, wanted all of him.
With an effort of will she held in her mind's eye the picture of him as he had been that day on the hillside, months ago: casual and relaxed, his hair tousled by the wind and clothing rumpled, a playful look in his eye as he teased her. Or passionate and fervent in the cow byre, convinced of his passion for her.
That was the man she wanted. This was merely the ordeal she must pass through, and then she would set about to see if she could possibly be enough to hold him.
She squeezed his fingertips and a light kindled in his blue eyes, banishing what might have been worry. He drew off her glove, took the small band of gold from upturned surface of the Prayer book the vicar held and slid it onto her finger, his touch
slow and steady. That heated her, to be touched by him in front of the Carstairs who stood up with them, and the stout vicar.
"With this Ring I thee wed," he said, with the same certain tone with which he had spoken his vows. "With my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."
She heard the words with a sense of unreality. They seemed so odd coming from him, who had nothing to do with marriage or Godliness. Yet he said them in all seriousness, and if he took the promise lightly she could not see it. The vicar nodded in satisfaction, and gestured that they should kneel. She did, careful with the weight of the silver brocade dress she wore and trying not to crush it under her knees. It gleamed with subtle light, but more riveting was his hand hanging lax by his side, less than an inch from her own as he too knelt.
She wanted to reach out and hold it, to find that man who had been an odd sort of friend to her once, but she did not dare. It was hard to know if he could be ally when he had been an adversary for so long. She was not at ease with him, not at all. Especially not in this moment.
". . . send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this Man and this Woman, whom we bless in thy Name . . ." The vicar spoke his part with sonorous relish, his voice ringing out through the empty church far louder than needed. ". . . these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, whereof this Ring given and received is a token and pledge, and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
He took Julia's and Colin's right hands in his own soft hands, placed them together and said, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."
Their part in the ceremony was done, and now the vicar wound on alone in the solitary splendor of his own words, blended together in a smooth stream that slid past her. ". . . Man and wife together . . ." ". . . Wife shall be as the fruitful vine . . ." ". . . live together so long in godly love and honesty . . ." ". . . this woman may be loving and amiable, faithful and obedient to her husband . . ." Ancient words that seemed so odd when applied to them as they were. She felt fallen from grace, grasping on to it desperately with slipping fingertips. A carnal creature turning from all she had been taught by her mother, all she knew of the world and her own place in it, to grasp at a star that shone too bright and wonderful to refuse.
