by Amelia Hart
She knocked on the door.
A moment later it was opened and a reddened face peered out cautiously, breaking instantly into a smile at the sight of her.
"Hello Mary."
"Lord a mussy, it's you, so it is. Come in, my poppet. Come in, come in and warm yourself. It's a death of cold you'll get out here and you stand about. Come in. Eh, but that's a fine coat you have on, and me with my fingers all a flour. Just you put it down here and snug up by the fire. Your granddam's not awake yet, but soon, I'll warrant. Look at you my pet, splendid and shiny. It warms my heart, it does. Where have you sprung from?"
"Just from home. I wanted to talk to Grandmere. Mary, I'm sorry I did not invite you both to the wedding breakfast, or send you notice."
"As if I'd have come. A course not. I know my place. Though we'd have liked to know, as it went on. But there's no time, when you're young. No time to wait for two old women. All in haste and mind there's no repenting. Mind you be happy and then all's forgiven."
Julia sank into the chair by the fire and looked around the small kitchen. It was cozy and bright in the light of the fire and not one but an extravagant three tallow candles. Her Grandmere had put to use the money she had sent, a full half of her monthly allowance. Colin had given her far more than she could spend in so little time as a month. "I'm trying, Mary. It's harder than I expected."
"New things often are. Don't fret, poppet. Your granddam will wake soon and then we'll be all a hullaballoo to see you. I'd best get a kettle to boil. There's new tea leaves too. You'll like some of them, I'll warrant. Nice and fresh."
"And she's well?"
"She's had a mite of a cough this past week, but not much to speak of. Other than that she's herself and all. Will you have some bread? I've taken it out of the oven just this second and it's fresh as a frog."
"I'd love some, thank you."
"That's my wee girl. There you go. Eat up, eat up." Mary bustled about to take a crock of butter and another of marmalade from a cupboard and put it before her with two generous slices of bread, on the old cracked plate with roses on it that had been hers since childhood, kept here for her snacks in the kitchen. No pretense of gentility here, though a faded sort of grandeur still ruled above stairs, threadbare but proud. The years had whittled Grandmere's portion down to almost nothing. It brought Julia great pleasure to know she could prop it up with more than just a share from her meager salary as a governess.
It was comforting to sit her in the familiar room and listen to the snap and crackle of the fire and pretend she was a girl once more and had no troubles to speak of. Here there was unquestioning love and a place she knew well, even if she had long outgrown it. She drank her tea and ate her bread, watched Mary mix a batch of scones and bake them in an cast iron pot in the coals, and felt calm steal through her, a centering of self.
Mary hung another pot of water over the fire, and measured in a portion of oats. She spoke of the market, and what the mutton she bought yesterday had cost, and how many meals it would furnish. She peered out of the wavy glass in the window and muttered about the fog, and how the chill damp was not good for an old woman's bones, nor hers either, and Julia hid a smile to think in Mary's mind Grandmere was the old woman and herself still much younger, the girl who had spent her life in service to the emigrant comtesse. Nearly thirty years for Grandmere in a foreign land she had made her own, fleeing Madame Guillotine with husband and a daughter almost full grown.
When the bell rang in the corner it made them both jump.
"I'll take the tray up," said Julia, setting her empty teacup to one side. Together they assembled bread, scones, tea and spreads.
"Porridge ain't ready yet. Almost, but not quite," muttered Mary regretfully.
"I'll come back for it in a few minutes."
"No, no you stay and chat. I'll bring it up. Never you mind."
Julia steadied the tray and sidled carefully through the narrow doorway. It was a different world away from the cozy kitchen, with the pervasive damp and a faint odor of mustiness and mice. Julia could not imagine any bedmate of Grandmere's visited her here. Oh, uncharitable thought. Once again she felt the discomfort of her fresh understanding of the world. If Colin had noticed the decay when they visited, he had not said anything of it.
It took concentration to climb the stairs with a laden tray and a long skirt, and she went slowly, wishing she had thought to put her cape back on before leaving the warmth of the kitchen. Never mind. She would build up a good fire in Grandmere's room.
The bed curtains were still drawn against the chill. Grandmere must have made a swift trip from there to the bellpull and back again to her warm nest. Julia smiled and went about her humble tasks as readily as any servant, setting down the tray, then lighting the fire laid ready, with the flint from the mantel. She knelt on the floor and carefully breathed on the tinder until the smoldering sparks caught with a rustle and sigh, then pushed it into place with the poker.
"Is it a dreadful day, Mary? It feels dreadful."
"Not so bad as all that, Grandmere. A little foggy, but nothing to fret over," said Julia, slipping easily into French.
"Julia! Child, it is you! Push back the curtains, dear. Oh what a delight. Come here. Come here and hold my hands. Oh no, I can't see you. Open the curtains first and let the light in. What are you doing creeping out of bed this early? You should be all tucked up safe and asleep." The woman's face was creased like delicate tissue by her delighted smile, her hands outstretched. Julia came and took them and sat next to her on the bed, a smell of old roses and French talcum powder rising up to her nose.
"I'm happy to see you too, Grandmere." She leaned forward and laid a kiss on the soft cheek the woman offered her. "I should come more often. It's been a difficult week."
"Has it? I thought we had done such good work, you and I, with your clothes and the Countess and Almacks. Has something happened? I haven't heard . . ."
"No, nothing like that."
"Tell me."
"I should visit you every day. It is good to be here-"
"But there's much more to do about the town. We will find the time. Don't fret. You are still finding your feet here."
"I have been dreadfully neglectful. It won't happen again."
"Oh, I expect it will. You're a wife now, with responsibilities and a household to run. You won't have time for me-"
"Grandmere, it won't happen again. I promise. I have been- Well, it is only that I-"
"Has something happened? What is it? Only tell me and I will make it right, dear. Is it that new husband of yours? You did marry him very quickly."
"It is not that. Or at least, not precisely that. Or more, that is not the crux of- Oh, how do I explain it?"
"Tell me everything."
"This time I do not think I can. Everything is a great deal, and not all of it fit for your ears."
"Everything!" commanded her grandmother imperiously.
Julia smiled wistfully for the days when the woman's certainties could banish all a little girl's doubts, and told her an edited version of events. But the Comtesse was no fool, and perfectly capable of drawing full sustenance from such a stew.
"He's a scoundrel, but a charming one, and he loves you I think. Naturally I approve him for that. He's no fool. But remember I have heard of him, and learned a great deal more of him once I made it my business to find it out. He has been immoderate."
"Not as much as some," Julia defended him. "From what has been said to me, I think he was affected by the war. It changed him somehow, and after that he was not careful with himself, with his spirit. Do you know what I mean?"
"Perfectly. So do you doubt he'll be faithful?"
"I did, but I don't think it anymore. I saw something that changed my mind. He refused a very beautiful woman. He did not know I was watching. She- I could tell she- She knew him well-"
"Past lovers. They are the very devil," sighed the Comtesse.
"Yes, so he had certainly found her attractive before. But he ref
used her and I really don't think he was tempted at all."
"Then it was good that you saw that. The doubt can eat you alive. It did you poor Maman. There was nothing your Papa could say to make her believe in him. Finally he gave up trying."
"But he was unfaithful first. I remember. That's why she did not trust him."
"No, not at first. I would have shot him myself. But no. It was she who had no trust."
"It wasn't her fault-"
"Oh child, marriage is a complex thing, and once it becomes sour, two who once loved each other more than the world can eat each other alive, for there is no escape but death. There is no point in laying blame. Each of them was at fault. She accused him and hounded him and shut him out until he turned from her to another. Then her fears became real. If she had only trusted him they might have been happy until the end of their days together. I do not know. But trust is important. If he has given you that, it is a true gift."
"But I don't know who I am with him. I don't know who I am becoming."
"How so?"
"I have always seen things so clearly. The path has always been easy. Right from wrong. Sin from righteousness. He makes me question everything. He- He changes me."
"That sounds ideal."
"But you don't know the things I have done with him-"
"Did you enjoy them?"
"Pardon me?"
"Did you do them against your will?"
"I- No."
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Yes."
"Did you harm yourself, or someone else?"
"No, of course not."
"Then where is the problem?"
"I just- I don't- It is not natural, Grandmere. It is not right, to enjoy such things. It is against God-"
"Ah, child. Rules are the creation of man. We think up a thousand little rules and we write them down and then we go around telling people they must obey them. Do you think if God wanted us to be a certain way He could have simply made us like that?" Julia blinked in confusion, and frowned at the Comtesse. "Do you imagine an all-powerful deity cannot manage to make his creations exactly the way He pleases? Do you think our human natures are not perfect in His sight, as he created them? A thousand different varieties of love, complex and wonderful?"
"I don't- That is so wrong," Julia whispered.
"How? Tell me how it is wrong."
"It just is."
"Society tells you how you must be, and then society hides from itself and breaks its own rules behind closed doors, and pulls itself through the mire of self-deception. Self repulsion. Love is not wrong. Hating ourselves for our true natures is wrong. Love is of God. We are of God. Your young man is of God, as are you. What you want together is exactly, perfectly as you were made. If you are ever in doubt, ask 'Where is the love in this?' and if you can see it you know your path is right."
"That cannot be true. If you had only seen-"
"I have seen a thousand, thousand things. But the only wrong things I have seen were about deception and hatred. Love is never wrong."
"Oh Grandmere, that is very simplistic-"
"No, darling. It is very wise. The older I get, the wiser I get, and the simpler it all is to me. It is about love. Nothing more, nothing less. You are married now. That is a sacred thing. Enjoy that blessing. Do not turn from it or poison it with your doubts. Human creativity and our love for variety do not stop at the bedroom door."
"Oh, Grandmere," Julia gave a helpless laugh, longing to believe it was as she said, terrified to believe it and be wrong.
"He loves you. That is more powerful than sex. Give that gift back to him. To be known and loved for who he truly is is more precious than any act to be found between the sheets. But why stop with only one thing? Give him both loving acceptance and sex. Twenty years I was with your grandfather, and he with me. We had no other lovers. Then he was gone, and I was lonely. Take what life gives you, live it fully, moment by moment, and allow yourself to be happy. Your happiness is more beautiful to the man who loves you than any other adornment. Any feature on your face, any jewelry or pretty dress. Find happiness with him and he will never want another."
"It can't be that simple."
"Why not? Why ever not? Don't doubt me. Do as I tell you. There is nothing to be lost."
"Only my immortal soul."
"Oh pish. You French are so dramatic."
"I am not French. I am English. It is you who-"
"Say what you like, but your passionate heart is French, and it loves more fiercely than any pretty little milk-and-cream English Miss can manage."
"I am English."
"Suit yourself. But I know the truth. You with your fierce temper and your scowls and your wild laugh. You will go home to that young man of yours and conquer him for France. Then you can make all the English babies you please and bring them to me to enjoy. I would like some great-grandchildren very much."
"Oh, we have not begun to even think of children yet."
"It is not the thinking that makes children. From what I hear you have been doing quite sufficient of what is required to make children."
"Grandmere!"
"No, do not pretend with me. And don't pretend with him either. Go home and tell him you love him. Go. But come and see me again soon. At my age you can't leave me alone too long."
"No. I know."
"Be off with you. And tell Mary to bring my porridge at once. What is she thinking?"
"I love you."
"I love you too, my precious. Now hurry. Don't waste another minute."
"No, Grandmere."
"That's my good girl."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
As she let herself in through the front door, she listened. The large house was humming along quietly, faint sounds of the servants moving about their tasks coming to her ears. She might not know how to direct them all just yet, but she was learning, and as Colin had said, the butler and housekeeper did the lion’s share of the work anyway.
She considered whether Colin would still be in bed, then smiled at the thought of her newly dutiful husband, turned to her left and went to the library door.
When she opened it he looked up from his ledgers and scowled at her. “Please don’t sneak out of the bed first thing in the morning. I can’t abide it.”
“I’m sorry. I was distracted.”
“Wake me and tell me where you’re going.”
She went to him and perched on the corner of his desk, very close to him, and looked down at him with a faint smile on her face. “I thought you would distract me and I would never get away.”
His own face softened. “Where did you go?”
“To visit Grandmere. I was confused.”
“About what?”
“You.”
“I?”
“You are very confusing.” She held out her hand to him. “Also I am confusing.”
“Well that’s true enough.”
“Hush. I’m trying to tell you something.”
“What is that, love?”
“How do you say that so easily?”
He shrugged, rubbing her fingertips between his fingers and thumb. “It is true.”
“But why can’t I say it so easily?”
He went very still, his dark eyes watchful.
“Perhaps when you feel it, you’ll find it just as easy to say,” he said after a moment.
“Colin, I can’t imagine loving you more than I do. I love you so much it hurts, but oh, it’s so hard to say it.” Tears had started up in her eyes, and she waved a helpless hand at them. “See?”
He leaned forward, a wondering look in his eyes, and took her other hand. “It’s peculiar what things can be difficult,” he said.
“It doesn’t make much sense. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sensible all the time.”
“Lately I feel like I’m never sensible. That’s supposed to be who I am. Sensible Julia Preston.”
“Well of course. That’s what everyone e
xpects a governess to be like. You were a good governess.”
“I had to be. I had to earn a living. Grandmere could not afford to keep me.”
“So you did. My clever, sensible girl. You went out and made your living and did what you had to do.”
“Yes.”
“And you wore your gray gowns and obeyed people like the Trents and put up with their horrible children-”
“I loved their children,” she protested, half laughing.
“Only because you’re so soft-hearted.”
“I’m not soft-hearted. I’m very cold and dispassionate. I don’t think you see me clearly at all.”
“I think I see you extremely clearly. It is you who have been pretending so long you think that’s who you are. You can let it go now. I’m here.”
“Like you’re some wonderful hero who has galloped in to rescue me,” she said derisively.
“Yes,” he said calmly. “Exactly like that.”
“Well,” she spluttered, “as if you are completely in love with yourself. You think you’re so wonderful-”
“I must be,” he said, insufferably smug. “Julia Holbrook loves me. She’s a very discerning woman.”
“You must have her all dazed and confused.”
“Obviously I am quite the catch.”
“Oh, very well,” she relented. “You are a catch.” She considered and added in an admiring tone, “And possibly you are quite discerning.”
“Absolutely.” He beamed at her, stood and took her in his arms, his head coming to rest on hers. “Only the very best sort of wife for me.”
“Yes. And only the best sort of husband for me.”
“Perfect.”
“Absolutely perfect.”
Please Leave a Review
If you enjoyed this book and would like to help others find it, please leave a review at the following link. Your opinion makes a difference. Thank you. -- Amelia Hart
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More Historical romance by Amelia Hart:
The Virgin’s Auction – At an auction for her virgin night, James Carstairs buys Melissa. She enchants him beyond anything he has known, then disappears. Can he find her?
