by Mary Balogh
There had been a chorus of protests from cousins and even a few uncles and aunts who were offended at having been left out of such a secretive excursion and a few scoldings for not having left word of where they had gone, but their story had not been questioned. Scandal had been averted.
Frederick had caught at her wrist when she was coming up to bed. He had been smiling that twisted half smile.
“I don't expect you to forgive me, Jule,” he had said quietly, for her ears only, “but I am dreadfully sorry for what happened. It will haunt me for a long time to come.”
“I hope it does, Freddie,” she had said, looking at his hand rather than at his face. He had a bruise on the left side of his jaw, acquired when he had been standing too close to the carriage door when opening it. She wondered if that was what had really happened.
She did not think she would ever be able to forgive him, though he must have a conscience, she thought, or he would not have found himself unable to go through with his final plan.
Julia burrowed beneath the blankets though the night was warm, and curled up into a ball. She felt hurt and used. Daniel had said nothing to her. He had not even looked at her. His face, when she had glanced at it, had been hard and pale, even when he was smiling for the benefit of the relatives. She would have welcomed even one of his famous pompous scolds rather than the silence. But he, of course, thought her guilty of a dreadful indiscretion—dreadful even for her. She had made Camilla and Malcolm promise to say nothing.
Julia burrowed even farther beneath the bedclothes. She had gone all to pieces as soon as she was alone in the carriage with them—body and limbs trembling, teeth chattering, tears flowing. The whole humiliating scene. She had huddled in a corner refusing to say a word beyond the repeated assertion that nothing was wrong until Camilla had come to sit beside her and cradle her head on her shoulder and rock her just like a hurt child. Julia hated to remember.
Then it had all come pouring out. All the sordid details. All her terror. And then she had become terrified anew. Terrified that they would retell the story back at Primrose Park and Daniel would feel obliged to challenge Freddie to a duel and put a bullet through his brain or something dreadful like that. And there would be all the ghastly unpleasantness of Aunt Eunice and Uncle Raymond’s discovering how villianously their son had behaved. She would just die, Julia had thought, if she became the cause of such disruption within the family.
And so she had made them promise that they would say not a single word to anyone, least of all to Daniel. After all, she had pointed out when they had seemed unwilling at first to promise, Freddie had relented and he had been taking her home again. No real harm had been done.
No real harm had been done. Julia emerged from the suffocating heat of the blankets to rest her head on the pillow again and stare upward at the canopy of the bed. Mr. Prudholm had agreed to come on the following day. The day after tomorrow she should be able to leave. She could leave it all behind her forever and start a new life. Grandpapa, Primrose Park, the family. Daniel.
Daniel. She would be able to forget about him. Everything about him. She would be able to put it all in the past and start again. There was some excitement in the thought. It was always exciting to start a new life. She supposed.
Daniel.
She slid into a deep sleep.
He watched from the window of his bedchamber as she left the house and set off walking in the direction of the lake. It was very early. He had expected to have to wait until after breakfast to get her alone so that he might have a private talk with her. But he had hoped that perhaps she would be up and out early as she frequently was. Especially on this morning he had hoped that she would find herself unable to sleep.
She would be going swimming, he thought. She probably needed the cool water and the exercise after yesterday’s ordeal. It was amazing that she had held herself together so well last night. None of the rest of the family could have suspected that she had been through a worse hell in the course of the day than any woman should be required to face during a lifetime. She was a remarkable woman.
She had, of course, gone to pieces for a while in the carriage with Camilla and Malcolm. But only for a while. Then she had pulled herself together and insisted that they promise to say nothing about what had happened to her. Camilla had been very reluctant to tell him the story until he had told her all that Freddie had told him. Freddie must have wanted some sort of absolution. He had told everything. And of course he would go unpunished beyond that one punch to the jaw since the whole thing must be kept strictly secret from the rest of the family and battered faces would require explanation. But then the earl rather suspected that Freddie would punish himself quite adequately.
The earl waited a full ten minutes before going after Julia and even then he did not walk fast. If she had gone for a swim, then he would allow her the privacy in which to enjoy it—for a while anyway. But when he arrived at the lake, it was sparkling and very empty in the early morning sunshine. There was no one on the bank either. He looked right around the lake, but there was no one. She had gone somewhere else. He had missed her.
He would have to wait until after breakfast after all, he thought, disappointed. He sat down on the bank for a few minutes, but he was restless and was soon walking back to the house again. Perhaps he would go for a ride. It would pass some time and use some energy. He did not know what made him glance up as he passed a short distance from the old oak tree. A rather wistful memory of two afternoons before, perhaps?
She was on the branch he had occupied then, lying full length, face down, her arms folded beneath her head. He did not think she was aware of his presence.
“Julia,” he said softly when he had walked up to the base of the tree.
She did not move. “Go away, Daniel,” she said. “Please go away.”
She was in his tree. On his branch.
“Shall I come up or will you come down?” he asked. “We need to talk.”
For a few moments he did not think she would answer him. Then she lifted herself to a sitting position and began to climb down, without once looking at him. She looked weary and dejected, quite unlike Julia. His heart ached for her. He did not help her when she reached the lowest branch. He let her jump down to the ground.
“Well,” she said when she was there, standing in front of him. She did not look up at him or attempt to step back. “Go ahead, Daniel. It was scandalously indiscreet of me. I can be only thankful that you had the presence of mind to come after me and that Camilla and Malcolm knew where we had gone. I am thankful. There. How is that for humble pie?”
“I know what happened,” he said quietly. “Freddie told me.”
“Did he?” He watched her swallow. “Did you give him the bruise?”
“Yes,” he said.
“So you can’t really scold me too much after all,” she said. “Except for being foolish enough to believe that Les and Stella were waiting for us in the village. But you can still say ‘I told you so,’ Daniel. You were perfectly right about Freddie, of course. Go ahead and say it. I am sure you are longing to.”
“Julia,” he said softly, and he touched the backs of his knuckles to her cheek.
She jerked her head back. “Don’t touch me,” she said. “Please. I would rather you did not.”
“You are planning to tell Prudholm that you are going to marry none of us?” he said. “That is why you have summoned him here?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I am tired of this whole mess,” she said, looking up at him at last, her eyes miserable, her voice passionate. “I hate it Daniel. I have hated it all. I have wanted to grieve for Grandpapa. I have wanted everyone to be together just as we always have been during the summers. I have wanted the comfort of that one more time. I didn’t want all the rest of it. This horrid thing with Freddie would not have happened if it had not been for the stupid will. And now I have lost him forever. I was fond of him.”
“My uncle wanted what was best for you,” he said. “He loved you, Julia. He would be upset if he could see how miserable his will has made you.”
“1 know he loved me,” she said. “I don’t need you to tell me that. But he just did not understand women, Daniel. Men generally don’t. Marriage for the sake of security and position is not enough for us, or not enough for me anyway. There has to be love. I could not marry a man I did not love or one who did not love me. And so I will never marry. For men do not know what love is.”
“Oh, we do,” he said. “Perhaps we do not recognize it so fast and perhaps we are more hesitant than women to own to it. But we know what love is, Julia, and it is a desirable ingredient of marriage for us too.”
“I don’t want to talk about love or marriage,” she said. “I am going to the north of England, perhaps as soon as tomorrow. And I am going to become a governess or a lady’s companion. So it does not matter to me any longer how women feel or how men feel or what they each want of marriage. It just does not matter anymore. And 1 would be obliged if you would leave me now, Daniel, for I am feeling despicably close to tears and 1 will hate myself forever if I cry in front of you.”
He set his hands on her shoulders and drew her firmly against him so that her face was buried among the folds of his neckcloth. She stiffened immediately, but she did not try to push away. After a short while she relaxed and started to cry. He wrapped his arms about her and rocked her until she fell silent again after several minutes.
“I didn’t want this to happen,” she said, her voice still miserable. “I didn’t want any of this.”
“This?” he said. “This situation at Primrose Park? Or this specifically with me?”
She sniffed and he handed her his handkerchief.
“I don’t think either of us did, did we?” he said. “Nor did we expect it. But it has happened anyway.”
She looked up at him with reddened, suspicious eyes. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
He clasped his arms behind her waist. “You and me,” he said, “falling in love.”
He expected her to argue. She opened her mouth to do so but then shut it again. And gazed at him with naked longing in her eyes.
“I think we have gone through enough days of open denial, haven’t we?” he said. “It is time we admitted it to ourselves and to each other, Julia.”
“You hate me,” she said.
“Love is very similar to hatred,” he said. “They are both passionate extremes of feeling, easily confused with each other. I have just been using the wrong word. And you too.”
“I could never please you,” she said. “You disapprove of everything I do.”
“Because I have envied you your freedom and high spirits,” he said. “You are going to have to teach me to relax and have fun again, Julia. I used to be expert at it but I will have to relearn the skills.”
Once more she opened her mouth only to close it.
“I love you, Julia,” he said. “Just as you are, with all your unconventional spontaneity. And since I have decided that love must be an essential ingredient of my marriage, you see, I want you to marry me. Will you?”
“It is just because of what happened yesterday,” she said. “It is just that you feel obliged, as you always do—”
“If you must talk, Julia,” he said sharply, “at least talk sense. That is utter nonsense as you are well aware.”
“There,” she said accusingly. “You would be forever scolding me.”
“Yes,” he said, “whenever you talked such nonsense. I don’t expect a tranquil marriage with you, Julia. I would fully expect that we will quarrel frequently. But I don’t want to live without you. Life would be dull. It would be without love. And without fun.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Well?” He gazed down into her eyes.
“I decided I could not marry any of the others,” she said, “because none of them was you, Daniel. Because I could love only you.”
He smiled at her.
“I will marry you,” she said. “But I think you will be sorry.”
He laughed. “No, I won't,” he said, lowering his head and kissing her openmouthed as he had been longing to do for days.
“Daniel,” she said when they finally came up for air. Her smile was radiant “Oh, Daniel, we will be able to keep on coming here for the summers, won't we? Sometimes? Just for the sake of nostalgia?”
“Every summer,” he promised. “We will invite everyone here as always, Julia, and bring our children here. There is one thing I am going to do, though. On our wedding day. I am going to give you Primrose Park as a wedding present.”
Her eyes widened.
He grinned at her. “I do not want to have you throwing in my teeth every time we quarrel,” he said, “the accusation that I married you only for the property.”
“I wouldn't,” she said. She chuckled. “How nasty you are, Daniel. You are taking away from me what could have been my most powerful weapon.”
And then he kissed her again in an embrace that soon enough had far more than just their mouths and tongues involved.
“Too public,” he murmured eventually against her ear, lifting her dress to cover the breast he had exposed to kiss and fondle. “And too soon. We have to leave something for our wedding night, Julia. But God, how I want you.”
“Is it still early?” she asked, buttoning up his shirt again with reluctant fingers. “Or is that really the noonday heat beating down on us?”
“I think the noonday heat is coming from inside us,” he said, nipping her earlobe and straightening up again.
She was smiling impishly at him. “It is still early?” she asked. “How about a swim, then? It would feel wonderful, Daniel.”
A swim? Together? Julia in her chemise, he in his breeches? It would be quite shockingly improper.
She was laughing.
“I'll beat you to the lake,” he said, turning and racing away, taking quite unfair advantage of the surprise that held her immobile for a fraction of a second.
And then she shrieked and came after him.
The family was gathered in the drawing room again. But this time they were not all dressed in black, and this time the servants were not present.
And this time Julia sat in the front row, her head bent her hands twisting each other with nervousness. She was wishing she had not agreed to the suggestion Daniel had made earlier that morning. But then she would have agreed with anything he had suggested after they had swum and frolicked and splashed each other and kissed until they sank to the bottom and then spluttered to the surface and kissed some more. And shrieked with laughter. Or rather, she had shrieked. Daniel had merely laughed.
Oh, it had been so wonderful to hear him laugh again, to see his eyes dance with merriment, to see his dark hair plastered to his head with wetness and water droplets on his bare chest. It had been wonderful beyond imagining. Yes, she would have agreed to anything.
Mr. Prudholm cleared his throat and everyone fell silent. Julia twisted her hands and drew a steadying breath. And then he was explaining that she had summoned him back early since she had made her decision and he had been able to find nothing in the wording of the will to say that they had to wait the full month. He would await Miss Maynard's decision, then.
Everyone awaited her decision with bated breath.
There was a dramatic way of doing this, she thought. She was sure that was what Daniel had had in mind that morning when he had suggested it.
“I am going to marry Daniel,” she said so quickly and so quietly that aunts were craning their necks from all directions.
“What did she say?”Aunt Eunice asked in a stage whisper.
“What did dear Julia say?” Aunt Millie asked aloud.
“Julia did me the honor this morning of accepting my hand in marriage,” the earl said distinctly.
The room erupted in sound and the poor solicitor was left for several minutes to cough in vain. Julia
had not realized that there were quite so many relatives until each of them felt compelled to hug her tightly. Only Frederick held back, that characteristic half smile on his lips.
Aunt Sarah kissed both her cheeks in addition to hugging her. “I am so glad, Julia, dear,” she said. “I always did say that the property should be kept all together in the hands of the Earl of Beaconswood. I am glad that you saw that too. I shall be delighted to welcome you into the family as my daughter-in-law.”
“Sisters,” Camilla said, tears in her eyes. “I am so happy, Julia. And I know you will make Daniel happy. You better than anyone.”
Mr. Prudholm’s cough became insistent.
And so Primrose Park was Daniel's, Julia thought, seating herself and looking down at her hands again. His hand came across to cover them, and she turned her head to smile at him. He had changed places with Uncle Henry so that he might sit beside her. But he was going to give it to her as a wedding present. Not that it would matter. She would always think of it as theirs rather than hers. But it warmed her heart anyway that he was going to do it. Now she would never be able to feel even the most niggling of doubts about his motive for marrying her.
How she loved him! she thought. She could cry with joy and probably would too and die of mortification if she did not distract her mind by concentrating on what Mr. Prudholm was saying. He was reading from a codicil to Grandpapa’s will.
“ ‘. . . And so, if you have any doubts about your choice, Jule,’ ” Mr. Prudholm read, sounding not at all like Grandpapa, “ ‘then tell whichever of my nephews it is that you have changed your mind. Send him home. Primrose Park will be yours, my dear granddaughter, if you do not marry, and your husband’s if you do. So you see, Jule, you have only love to gain by marrying. My solicitor has been directed to give you two days in which to make your final decision.’”
