Courting Julia

by Mary Balogh

  “Eh?’ Augustus said.

  “Try it,” the earl said, “Can you reach up and grasp Julia’s waist? You are going to have to slide down, Julia, using your bottom and the flat of your feet.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. Her voice did not sound quite steady. Her giggle sounded a little hysterical.

  “Gussie is going to guide you,” he said, “and keep a firm hold of your waist. He is going to pass you between his legs. I’ll be here to catch you on the other side. I am not going to miss you and I am not going to be bowled over. You are quite safe. Ready, Gus?”

  “Oh, dear,” Julia said. “Whose idea was it to climb up to the parapets anyway? Yours, Gussie? You deserve to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. I’ll not be able to look anyone in the eye when this is all over. I will be mortified in the extreme. That is if I am still in one piece to not look anyone in the eye. But if I take the two of you down with me, no one will ever know exactly what happened, will they? I might be seen as a martyr who died trying to rescue you both.”

  “Julia,” the earl said, keeping his voice firm, “stop babbling. Edge down onto the step where you have your feet. Wait until Gussie’s hands grip you and then move, slowly but steadily.”

  “I am not going to look very elegant, am I?” she said. “And my dress is going to be horribly covered with dust and rubble.”

  She was still babbling, but she was doing as she had been told, and Augustus was doing his part, saying nothing, but looking as solid as a rock.

  She moved slowly for as long as she could brace herself with her elbows on the upper step. But when she had to move them too down onto the rubble, she came sliding in a rush that Augustus could barely control and with a little shriek.

  The earl grasped her ankles and let his hands slide up her legs to her knees. Her dress, it seemed, was not moving as fast as the rest of her body. And then she was sitting on the step below Augustus, looking decidedly shaky and giggling again.

  “Oh, dear,” she said. “Oh, dear.”

  The earl acted without thinking. He took her by the upper arms and brought her to her feet and against him, bracing himself against the outer wall. “You are all right now, Julia,” he said against her hair. “Quite safe. I have you quite safe.” He wrapped his arms right about her.

  “Yes,” she said, her face pressed against his neckcloth. Her teeth were chattering and she was shaking badly. He knew that for the moment at least she would be incapable of standing alone. “How many more s-stairs are there, D-Daniel? Did you count?”

  “Thirty-eight,” he said. “Not too many. Do you want me to carry you down?”

  “No,” she said, sounding more like her usual indignant self for a moment. “Absolutely n-not. I can go d-down on my own, thank you.”

  “In a few moments, then,” he said. “When you have found your legs again, Julia.” He glanced up at Augustus.

  “We might have been here all day,” Augustus said in disgust. “She got the giggles.”

  The earl was very glad suddenly that Gussie was there. Julia’s tremblings were making him very aware of the shapeliness of her body pressed against his own. And the warmth and the softness of her. And there was the emotional relief they both felt after a few minutes of tension and danger. He began to feel hot despite the coldness of the inside of the tower. He was very glad indeed of Gussie’s presence.

  “Oh,” Julia said, raising her face from his neckcloth at last and looking up accusingly into his face, “you will tell everyone, won’t you, Daniel? It would be just like you to tell. And this is your perfect opportunity, is it not? I’ll have no defense against you whatsoever.”

  Lord. Those full breasts of hers were heaving against his chest. He could not move her away. As it was she was balanced on the narrower part of the stair they were sharing.

  “I’ll not breathe a word,” he told her coldly. “And I am sure Gussie will not either. It would be an embarrassment to admit to having such a shatterbrained relative.”

  “Don’t let the thought provoke you,” she said. “I am not really a relative, remember? Is that not a blessing beyond belief?”

  “Yes,” he said curtly. “I am going to go down first, Julia. Gussie will be behind you. Put your hands on my shoulders to steady yourself if you wish.”

  “I can manage on my own, thank you,” she said.

  But when he stepped down to the stair below her, moved her in against the wall, and finally let go of her, her hands came up to take his shoulders in a death grip, and she kept hold of them until a turn in the stairs finally brought them in view of the ground.

  “Well,” she said, “that was quite an adventure. And that is the very last time I will wear these slippers out of doors. Women’s footwear is remarkably foolish. What I should have worn, knowing we were coming to Culver Castle, was boots and breeches.”

  Augustus snorted. “Aunt Millie would have been prostrate with shock,” he said.

  ‘There you are wrong,” she said, setting her feet finally on firm ground and drawing a deep breath. “Aunt Millie has seen me in my breeches and she thinks them very sensible. One has to ride sidesaddle when wearing a skirt, you know. Now if anyone wants to talk about dangerous doings, let’s talk about riding sidesaddle. I would prefer to wear breeches and ride astride and feel safe.”

  Good Lord, the earl thought. Good Lord!

  “Oh,” she said, “it was so cold inside that tower. My teeth will not stop chattering. And there is something wrong with my knees.”

  “It is called shock,” the earl said. “You need to walk it off, Julia. Take my arm and we will stroll about the courtyard. Everyone might guess that you took fright on the stairs if you join them right away.”

  “I did not take fright,” she said indignantly, “It was just these silly slippers.”

  “You might as well take a well-earned rest in the sun, Gussie,” the earl said, nodding toward the group of cousins sitting a short distance away. “My arm, Julia.”

  She took it.

  * * *

  His arm felt blessedly solid. Her legs felt anything but. She was ready to scream with the humiliation of the last several minutes.

  “Say it,” she said. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Daniel. And please don’t feel that you must play the gentleman. Just say it and get it over and done with.”

  “Say it?” He looked down at her, his eyebrows raised.

  “ ‘I told you so,’ ” she said.

  “Ah.” He was maddeningly cool. He had been maddeningly cool in the tower too, directing operations just as if he were an army general in the midst of battle. “I told you so.”

  “I knew you were longing to say it,” she said. If only it had been anyone but Daniel. Any of the uncles. Any of the cousins. But it had had to be Daniel. Good heavens, she could suddenly remember his hands on her legs and her knees. Her bare legs and knees. If she could only die of mortification, she thought, she cheerfully would. “You have been just waiting for something to go wrong with me so that you could gloat, haven’t you? Well, gloat on. I shall wear different slippers next time.”

  “Next time?” he said quietly.

  She had burrowed her head against his neckcloth and pressed herself against him as if he were the only solid and safe thing in an infirm and dangerous universe. Good heavens. Oh, good heavens, a man’s thigh muscles were even firmer than they looked gripping the sides of a horse. And his chest muscles. At least Daniel’s were. Oh, gracious heaven, what an idiot she had made of herself. The weak trembling female having to be comforted in a man’s arms.

  “Next time I shall wear the proper attire,” she said, “and not have to trouble you over the small and stupid matter of slippery slippers, Daniel. Slippery slippers. It sounds like a very long snake, does it not?”

  “Julia,” he said, “you are regaining confidence by the second, aren’t you? I know what is going to happen when we rejoin the others. Someone—probably Freddie—is going to mention the dungeons. A few men are going to decide to go
down there, right into the bowels of the hill so that they might have the dubious pleasure of peering out through the grate at the bottom onto the river and then climbing all the way back up again.”

  “It is slimy with wet moss down there,” she said.

  “I know,” he said. “I remember. Before they go, Julia, someone—without a doubt Freddie—is going to dare you to go down too.”

  “A dare,” she said wistfully. But her knees threatened to turn to jelly again at the very thought of being on any more of those winding stone stairs.

  “If you accept,” the earl said conversationally, “I shall throttle you. After which I shall sling you over my shoulder and carry you back down the hill to the picnic site. Do I make myself clear?”

  Oh, dear, Julia thought, bristling inwardly, she did not have the energy or the stamina at present to take him on. It was a dreadful shame since the combination of a dare from Freddie and a prohibition from Daniel would normally ignite her into any adventure, however hair-raising. But no, she was going to have to let this one pass.

  “How foolish you are,” she said disdainfully. “Who would want to descend into dungeons when the food must be arriving and it is well past the normal time for tea?”

  “Who?” he said. “You, in short, Julia. But my threat stands. Or to make it more realistic, let me put it this way. I would not throttle you, of course. But I would tip you under my arm and wallop your derriere. And if you do not believe me, try me.”

  If it were possible to explode, she thought, she would be raining down in a million pieces over the castle hill at this precise moment. She smiled. “Lay one violent finger on my person, Daniel,” she said, “and you will be observing the world for the next two weeks from two black eyes. It is a promise.”

  “I believe,” he said, guiding her to where all the other cousins were congregated on the grass, “it is time to go down for tea.”

  She slipped her arm gratefully from his.

  “Anyone for the dungeons?” Frederick asked.

  “Are you mad, Freddie?” Julia replied. “When it is time for tea? I am starved. Anyone for a race down the hill?”

  A foolish challenge, she thought a moment later, when her legs still felt as if they were missing a few essential bones. She was going to end the race an ignominious last. But it was better than appearing to be afraid to go down to the dungeons. A woman had her pride, after all.

  8

  It was two days later before Malcolm summoned enough courage to talk with Julia. All his life he had been quiet and painfully shy, finding consolation in the interior world of the intellect and the imagination. In the past several years, once he had passed the painful years of the early twenties, he had even reconciled himself to the fact that he would never be able to change his nature to be as outward going and charming as Frederick or as self-assured as Daniel. He had learned to accept himself for who he was. He had learned to be happy with himself.

  They had decided to walk the three miles to the hill east of the house. Not all of them—Susan and some of the aunts and uncles had decided that the distance was too great. But there was a sizable party, all in exuberant spirits. The summers were associated in Malcolm’s mind with Primrose Park and family and exuberance—and himself in the background watching like a spectator. Not unhappy exactly, but a little envious of Daniel and Freddie.

  And a little afraid of Julia. She had always been the most exuberant and most daring of all—pretty, mischievous, sunny-natured Julia. Malcolm admired her and liked her immensely, but he had never felt that he could have any personal dealings with her. They were just too different in every way. But Uncle’s will had changed all that.

  He walked out to the hill with Camilla, the only cousin with whom he always felt comfortable. Perhaps because she was quieter than the others. Perhaps because she had suffered. But then he had always felt at ease with her, even when they were both children. She told him now about Bath, where she had just spent a few months with her mother. He told her about some books he had been reading recently.

  That was the good thing about being with Camilla, he thought when they finally lapsed into silence. He could talk to her about anything that came into his head instead of reaching around for some suitable topic, as he did with most other people. And he could even be silent with her without any feeling of discomfort.

  This was very probably, he realized suddenly, the last time they would all be together at Primrose Park. Quite possibly he would never see Camilla again since they were related only by the marriage of his aunt to her uncle, both now deceased. He would be sorry not to see her. He hoped she would find the husband she was looking for and be happy. She deserved to be happy.

  The others had reached their destination before them. The hill was surrounded by woods but was itself grassy and almost bare of trees. From the top there was a magnificent view of the countryside for miles around. It had been the site of many childhood games, Malcolm remembered.

  Some of his relatives were sitting on the slope of the hill, resting after the long walk. Others were climbing higher. A few were wandering around the base of the hill to where a small stream trickled its way slowly toward the lake. Julia was standing alone at the very top, shading her eyes and squinting off into the distance. Malcolm led Camilla upward.

  “What is it?” she asked, looking up at him suddenly.

  “W-what?” he said.

  She frowned slightly and looked above them to the top of the hill. “Oh,” she said quietly, “you had better go on ahead of me, Malcolm. I am tiring anyway. You had better go and talk to her.”

  “I d-don’t think it's the r-right time,” he said.

  “I think you need to,” she said. “Both for your parents’ sake and for your own, Malcolm. Do it now before you have time to think further. I’ll walk up slowly after you to see the view or perhaps to join the two of you.” She slipped her arm from his.

  It was all wrong, Malcolm thought. Not Julia. Anyone but Julia. He should not even have considered it or allowed his mother and father to do so. But Camilla was expecting him to go forward. And he knew he would despise himself if sheer cowardice kept him away from Julia. It was cowardice. But cowardice sometimes had to be fought. He strode on up the hill.

  “It’s a 1-lovely view,” he said, coming to stand beside Julia. He rarely stammered any longer. So rarely that it took him by surprise when it happened. He was thirty years old, he reminded himself. Julia was his cousin, or almost so. She was only twenty-one.

  She turned her head toward him and smiled. No one had a brighter smile than Julia. It always lit up her whole face. Daniel had used to say that it was the most damnably mischievous smile he had ever seen.

  “Hello, Malcolm,” she said. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Well worth the climb.”

  “Yes, indeed,” he said. And reached about in his mind for something else to say. There must be a million things to say, a million commonplaces to mouth. No one else ever seemed to have difficulty making small talk. He could not think of a single thing.

  “And such beautiful weather,” she said. “The trouble with us English is that we can never enjoy a warm sunny spell like this. We are always wondering how we will have to pay for it later.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes, we are like that, a-aren’t we? We should e-enjoy it. Shouldn’t we?”

  She laughed suddenly and he twisted the hands clutched at his back, mortified. “Malcolm,” she said, “what did you think of Grandpapa’s will? Was it not dreadfully naughty of him to provide for me as he did?”

  “He w-wanted what was best for you, J-Julia,” he said. No, not this topic. She was not going to talk openly about this, was she? But it would be just like Julia to do so. Julia always confronted issues head-on.

  “Yes,” she said. “Oh, I know. He was always trying to find husbands for me, you know. Or a husband, 1 suppose I should say. He longed to see me happily settled before his death. I disappointed him. I could never like any of the gentlemen who showed an interest i
n me. I should have tried harder, shouldn’t I?”

  “I-I d-don’t”—Malcolm stopped and swallowed and unclasped his hands—“I don’t know if you can or should force yourself to accept an offer you don’t quite like,” he said.

  “Don’t you?” She looked up at him, interested. “How should one choose, then? How can one know who will suit one for a whole lifetime?”

  He opened his mouth and shut it again, staring at her blankly. How did one choose? How did one know? It might be easy to choose with the heart if one fell in love. Or with the head if one wanted to be sensible. But how could one use good sense on the future? Perhaps years and years of the future. People changed. All people changed. Both partners in a marriage would change in the course of years. How could one be sure that one would not change in different ways from one’s partner? How could one be sure that even if they suited now they would suit ten years in the future? Or twenty?

  Julia shifted from one foot to the other and flushed slightly. “You are one of the five cousins mentioned in Grandpapa’s will in connection with my future,” she said. “Does that fact have any significance to you, Malcolm?”

  How did one answer such a direct question? With a simple yes? Should he try to explain? Did she want them all to be interested in her? Or did she feel trapped, rather as if she were being preyed upon by vultures? Poor Julia, he thought Uncle should have left her Primrose Park. It would have given her the wealth and freedom to choose her own husband in her own time.

  Yes, she was looking trapped. She was darting glances, pointed glances beyond his shoulder.

  “I-I,” he said. “Julia— That is—”

  But blessedly someone had come to join them. Camilla. She must have been watching and realized that they both needed rescuing. Thank God for Camilla.

  “Isn’t the view lovely?” she said in her easy, quiet manner. “And such a wonderful clear day. Do you remember playing pirate ships up here, Malcolm? You always had to be the captain because you were the oldest.”

  “And you were the captured maiden in distress,” he said.