An Improper Suitor

by Monica Fairview

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I scooped the coins up and threw them back at him. I told him he could have what money I had, but I wanted him to let me down. That instant. I didn’t want to marry him any more, you see.’

  ‘But he didn’t let you down.’

  ‘No, he didn’t. Instead, he fell on to his knees. He was disguised, you know, and smelled of drink, and I couldn’t open the carriage window because I was afraid someone would see me.’

  ‘But why did he kneel?’ Julia asked, a little bewildered by this turn of events.

  ‘He said he was sorry for striking me, and he didn’t want to, but that he was so nervous with all this elopement business and now it was all for nothing because we didn’t have the money. Which by that time I was very glad of.’

  ‘Quite rightly so,’ said Julia.

  ‘Then he started to cry. He said he didn’t want to disappoint me, because he loved me. He’d never loved a woman in his life before. And now he’d made a hash of it, because he had to go and strike me and he was very sorry because he didn’t want to be like his father.’

  ‘His father?’

  Amelia nodded. ‘He said his father beat him and shut him up for days in a cupboard. He made me very sorry for him. But I still didn’t want to marry him.’ She fingered the bruise again. ‘My jaw was hurting, you see.’

  Julia did see, very well.

  ‘So I asked him again to let me down, but he said he couldn’t. He was sorry, but he couldn’t let me go. And besides, he needed the money desperately otherwise he was in dun territory and would be thrown into the Fleet Prison if he didn’t marry an heiress quickly. He’d borrowed so much on expectations of his father’s death, but his father made a sudden recovery. Of course, when he told me that, it only made matters much worse because I know now that Papa was right about him.’

  She looked up at Julia. ‘So you see, I was never so glad in my life when I saw Papa open the door. I knew you were behind it, because I’d told no one else and, of course, you were there, standing at the window. I could have hugged you right then and there.’ She beamed at Julia. ‘But then I remembered he had a pistol, because he’d showed it to me, and I wanted to warn everyone. I was terrified. Before I knew it, things started to happen. And you knocked him down.’

  Neave groaned, and began to stir.

  Everyone immediately went on the alert.

  He tried to raise himself, only to discover that he was tied up. ‘What the devil—’ His eyes landed on Amelia, who was closest to him. ‘What are they going to do to me?’ he asked.

  Amelia looked down at him sadly. ‘I don’t know, Warren.’

  ‘Whatever they may say,’ he said, ‘I do love you.’

  She nodded, ‘I know. But it wasn’t enough.’

  There was a brief flare of something like torment in his eyes. Then his face contorted in anger. He struggled to sit up, hampered by his bonds. Throwing a murderous glance in Julia’s direction, he sneered, ‘You were behind this, you damned wh—’

  Despite his weakened state, Lionel was upon him before he could complete the sentence.

  Benny leapt up to hold him back as he was in imminent danger of loosening his bandage.

  They collided, landing in a heap on top of Neave.

  The door opened and Lord Neville appeared, accompanied by two large tanned men of threatening stance.

  ‘Get him off the floor,’ said Lord Medlow, eyeing the skirmish with distaste.

  Lionel and Lord Benedict lifted Neave off the floor. Neave struggled. Lionel’s bandage began to unravel, and fresh blood spread into a round stain on the linen. Julia stepped forward to say something, but Lionel gave her a warning glance.

  ‘Now here is the situation,’ said Lord Medlow. ‘The way I see it, you have two choices. These two men here will be more than willing to weigh you down and drop you in the harbour. Left to my own devices, that would be my preference. But Lord Thorwynn and Lord Benedict don’t seem to favour that option, unless they’re forced to.’

  He paused dramatically. Everyone waited.

  ‘The other possibility is that you agree to sign a confession, and we’ll put you on the first East Indiaman bound for Calcutta, with the proviso that you will never set foot again in England.’ Lord Medlow barely gave him a minute to decide. ‘The choice is yours, of course. Which will it be?’

  ‘What do you wish me to confess to?’ said Neave, sullenly.

  ‘Obviously we want to keep my daughter out of this. So we will simply have you write a letter to your uncle and your father stating that you were forced to flee England to escape your creditors, and other rather pressing embarrassments which you would rather not divulge, and that you will be seeking your fortune in India. I will need three copies, one of which I will retain, in case for some inexplicable reason your uncle and your father never receive theirs. Do I have your word as a gentleman that if I have you untied you will not attempt to escape or harm anyone?’

  ‘You have it,’ said Neave.

  Julia wondered if he still qualified as a gentleman in spite of everything. However, Neave himself seemed to think so, as he sat calmly at the table and wrote what Lord Medlow dictated without any problems.

  When he finished, the two men took him away.

  She very much hoped it would be the last they ever saw of him.

  By the time the doctor arrived, it was almost morning. Because of Lionel’s injury, they all put up at the inn, with Amelia and Julia sharing a room, and Hannah sleeping in the dressing room in a truckle bed.

  When Julia was sure everyone was asleep, she lit her candle and headed for Lionel’s room. She trod carefully, terrified of being discovered, or, what was just as bad, being waylaid by a drunken sailor.

  She reached his room uneventfully. She stepped inside and leaned against the door, willing her racing heart to calm down. She approached the bed slowly.

  ‘Lionel,’ she said.

  There was no answer.

  The light of the candle fell on the bed. His face in the candlelight had an unhealthy whiteness to it that alarmed her, and his sleep was restless. All thoughts of sharing his bed disappeared. She felt his head to see if there was a fever, but it felt cool to the touch.

  She hovered uncertainly. He could develop a fever during the night. However, at the moment, there was nothing she could do for him. There was, in fact, no point in lingering.

  She would return in the morning to make certain nothing had gone wrong. Meanwhile, she needed to slip back into her chamber, before she was discovered.

  So much for her second attempt at seduction.

  CHAPTER 22

  Julia waited for the message. She waited all day. She did not leave the house, in case a message arrived during her absence. She waited all evening. She waited until midnight. But nothing came.

  She waited for news of Lionel’s recovery.

  She should not have left the inn at the East India Docks before making sure Lionel had not contracted a fever. But Lord Medlow had not given her much choice.

  It seemed Julia had barely closed her eyes after her trip to Lionel’s bedroom, when Hannah was shaking her to inform her that the master needed to leave. When she was able to open her eyes and look at the clock, she discovered it was six o’clock in the morning.

  With Hannah’s help, she made herself presentable. Amelia, not wanting to offend her father further, no doubt, had already dressed and gone downstairs.

  She wanted to reassure herself about Lionel. But she could not visit Lionel’s room, and Lord Benedict was still asleep. So she left messages under both Lionel’s and Lord Benedict’s door requesting them to send a message immediately and tell her that all was well.

  When Julia arrived in the private parlour downstairs, she found Lord Medlow and Amelia had already breakfasted.

  ‘No time to eat,’ said Lord Medlow, as soon as he saw her, looking pointedly at his watch piece. ‘Have to set a spanking pace. Won’t do to have my daughter’s absence noticed,’ he
said. ‘The sooner we return, the better.’ Julia barely had time to grasp a bread roll and hurry after him.

  As night fell and she did not receive news, her concern turned to alarm.

  She considered calling a hack to take her back to the inn where Lionel was staying. But it would be the height of folly for a lady to go to the East India Docks in the dead of night. Even escorted by servants.

  She sent two of her footmen instead, with instructions to enquire after Lord Thorwynn. They returned a little after one o’clock, only to inform her that his lordship had been moved and was no longer at the inn. Mr Taddle, the landlord, had been away from the tap room when they left, and so they could not ask him anything about Lord Thorwynn’s condition.

  She hesitated on the verge of sending a footman around to Lionel’s residence, but thought better of it. Apart from awakening the household, it would generate unnecessary apprehension if his servants discovered his injury. Word of it would inevitably reach Lady Thorwynn, who would fall into a nervous spasm. Besides, there was no guarantee at all that he and Lord Benedict had returned to Mayfair. They might simply have removed to a more comfortable inn. She would send round the next morning, a calm, innocuous enquiry that would not raise anyone’s suspicions.

  She was to regret her decision. The moment she tried to fall asleep, restless nightmares assailed her. She became Lionel, tossing and turning in bed with fever, his rambling imagination plagued by images of objects crushing him, and pain lancing through his leg.

  She would tear herself out from the nightmare. Awake, she would reassure herself that he was well, that Mrs Taddle knew what she was speaking of when she had told Julia the wound was clean. But the moment she drifted back into sleep the nightmares would resume and she would wake up again in alarm.

  I don’t know what I’d do if I lose him.

  She stayed awake for a long time, staring into the darkness, wondering how she would live her life if something happened to Lionel.

  Finally, as dawn began to break, completely exhausted, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  *

  Julia groaned and tried to cover her head with the pillow.

  ‘Not today, Grannie. Why don’t you have the Cavalry Charge without me? For once?’

  But Lady Bullfinch was ruthless. She pulled off the cover and tossed the pillow on the floor. ‘You know the rule. Nothing but sickness can keep us. That’s the rule of the Cavalry Charge.’

  She groaned again. She knew she would pull her out of bed, if she didn’t get up. It had happened in the past, and no doubt would happen again.

  Julia swung her legs over the side of the bed and put her bare feet on the carpeted floor.

  ‘I’m awake. No need to hover.’

  Lady Bullfinch raised an eyebrow, satisfied herself that Julia would not lie down again, and left.

  Before Julia could reach for the bell pull, her maid Bethany appeared.

  ‘Such a lovely day for a ride,’ she said, in a painfully cheery voice.

  Resigned, Julia submitted to her ministrations, her eyes half closed.

  Her aunt was there, as was Miranda. Obliged to be civil, she put on a friendly face, hiding the anxiety eating at her.

  Nicholas had also come, but he was not allowed to race with the ladies.

  He smiled. ‘I’ll be your spectator, cheering you on,’ he said. ‘Though I have not yet decided who I want to win. If I don’t support Grannie, she’ll slay me with a glance. If I don’t support Miranda, she will find all kinds of ways to avenge herself. If I don’t support my mother, she will call me an undutiful son. And of course, I want to support you, Cousin Julia, because we’re friends.’

  Julia smiled. ‘Perhaps, in that case, it would be best to cheer everyone. That way you won’t lose favour with any of us.’

  He laughed and fell back, leaving them to line up.

  The horses snorted. Impatient, they strained to start moving. Poor Hamlet, who had not been given a good run for some time, could hardly wait, his restlessness infecting her. She could not wait to return home to send notes to both Lionel’s residence, and Lord Benedict’s.

  Surely one of them would have written, if he were well? The wound must have festered. With the bandage falling off during his struggle to hold up Neave, something must have gone wrong. Or perhaps the loss of blood had weakened him too much.

  Their silence gnawed at her.

  She should have refused to leave the inn.

  ‘Gooo forth!’ came the command and the horses set off, tearing down the course as if it were a racing track.

  Despite Julia’s anxiety, the exhilaration of the race caught her, and she was able to set aside her fears, just for a moment, as she began to fly. As the world around her blurred, she put aside her apprehension and allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

  Her cousin Miranda was ahead of her now. Julia felt a surge of admiration and pride in the little girl who was growing up into a lovely woman. Certainly Miranda was a superb horsewoman.

  But she would not let her win.

  She urged Hamlet forward. Always ready for a challenge, he extended his limbs and shot forward until the two horses were neck to neck.

  Suddenly there was a shout.

  Julia looked around, startled. She saw Amelia waving at her, saying something.

  She waved back, quickly, not wanting Hamlet to slow, but Amelia kept waving, shouting something she couldn’t hear. As she drew closer, Julia realized that Amelia was not smiling.

  Terror struck at her. Amelia must have heard something about Lionel.

  She swerved off the path. Amelia gestured for Julia to follow her, and set out in a gallop. Julia, furious with the young girl for leading her on a chase, followed hard behind her.

  ‘Stop!’ she shouted to Amelia, but the girl ignored her.

  Grimly, Julia followed. She realized that Amelia was taking her behind a copse of trees. No doubt the news she wished to impart would upset her, and she wanted to grant her some privacy.

  But when she reached the copse, Amelia had disappeared. Julia searched the trees, but there was no sign of her.

  She slowed down, puzzled.

  Then she saw the form. A man lay on the ground, perfectly still. No doubt Amelia had returned to Rotten Row to find help.

  She spurred Hamlet on. As she drew closer, he began to look familiar.

  He stirred. Suddenly, very quickly, he sprang up, then fell down on to his knees.

  It was Lionel.

  Relief at seeing him made her so weak she swayed, almost falling off the horse. She trotted over, slowly, fighting to get her emotions under control.

  But he wasn’t getting up. Was he hurt? He must have tried to come riding and fallen off his horse, weakened by his wound.

  She hurried once again, furious, preparing to scold him for his stupidity in going riding when he had not yet recovered.

  But as she approached he smiled up at her, one of those devastatingly charming smiles that made so many women swoon, including her. Especially her.

  ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer day?’ he said. ‘Thou art more lovely and more temperate, Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May …’

  He was feverish.

  ‘Come on, Lionel,’ she said gently. ‘If you can get yourself up on the horse behind me, I’ll take you home.’

  But he did not move. He stayed on the grass, grinning at her.

  ‘You don’t like that one? It’s Shakespeare, you know. Never mind. I have a better one. Well, not better, but more original, at least:

  On a hill above a dale

  A certain lady raised a gale …’

  She frowned and reached out with her hand, urging him softly, as she would a skittish horse. ‘Come on, I’ll pull you up,’ she said.

  But he stayed there, kneeling in the grass. ‘I see. You weren’t impressed with that one. Let me try something else:

  When her searching lips touched mine

  My soul was filled with love divine

  I
nflamed with passion …’

  ‘Stop!’ she said, horrified that someone might hear him.

  He grinned. ‘Didn’t like that, either? Well I have more:

  How can I my love declare

  When all my love can do is stare?’

  She began to laugh. She could not help it. ‘Lionel, please get up. You are clearly feverish. And the grass is staining your clothing. And your bandage is getting soaked.’

  He shook his head. ‘I won’t get up until you agree.’

  ‘Agree to what?’ she said, exasperated.

  ‘To marry me, of course,’ he said.

  It had been such an unusual morning, she decided she had heard him wrong. ‘Let’s talk about it later, somewhere civilized,’ she said, stalling, because she was not sure she heard him right, and besides, he could not be held accountable if he was feverish. ‘It’s no use trying to silence me,’ he said, ‘because you won’t.

  Not if the moon should flood with shadows

  Not if the sky should fill with pain

  Even if my dreams turned gallows

  Still supreme my love will reign.’

  He was smiling. But there was something else in his eyes. Something more. Something that found an echo deep inside her. A tiny seed of hope grew inside her, bursting open, filling her with strange elation.

  But she held back. She could not marry him. He would not be faithful to her.

  She regarded him as he kneeled there in the grass. He waited. There was doubt in his eyes, and fear. Fear that she would say no. His smile wavered.

  ‘Please, Julia,’ he said softly. ‘I love you. Marry me.’

  Still she hesitated, though it broke her heart.

  ‘I’ll do everything I can to make you happy,’ he said.

  She slid off the horse and went down on her knees beside him. ‘Lionel,’ she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. She wanted to believe him. ‘What about all those admirers of yours? What will you do with them?’