It had started to snow by lunchtime, a fine dry snow. It was cold enough to accumulate a few inches, and Judith wondered if Barbara would cancel their ride. But no footman arrived with a note, and at two o’clock she heard the clatter of hooves and looked out to see Barbara waiting, with Judith’s mount being led by the Stanleys’ groom.
Hannah thought the two women foolish to be out in such weather, but had to agree with Judith that in the country one wouldn’t have thought twice about it. “It is only a snowfall, and not a storm, Hannah. It just seems like more because we are in the city. I am sure we will not stay long.”
Neither Judith nor Barbara spoke much until they got to the park. The streets were slushy and slippery, and they were concentrating on the horses, who were ready to play, thought Judith as she held hers in. Their winter coats held the snowflakes, and they looked more like wild ponies than prime Thoroughbreds. There was a great head-tossing and bridle-jingling until they were able to let them out into a canter. Being out in such weather made Judith feel a little girl again, playing in the snow, galloping around and shaking the snow off her hair as if she were one of the horses.
When they slowed to a walk, Judith was feeling wonderful: warmed up and relaxed. She could see Barbara had enjoyed it as much as she had.
“I am glad we came. I was afraid you might not want to be out in such weather.”
Barbara smiled at her. “Oh, no, I love it too. And as I suspected, we almost have the park to ourselves. We can pretend we’re back in Sussex.”
“When are you returning to Ashurst?” Judith asked.
“Next Sunday,” answered Barbara. “I am surprised at how quickly it has come upon us. I only wish I could convince you to join us, Judith.”
“I would love to, but this will be our first holiday in our new home, and I think it important to stay in London. Will Dev be home for Christmas also?”
“I don’t know. And, do you know, Judith, for the first time in years, I don’t think I care.”
Judith looked at her in surprise.
“I know, I should be hopeful, now that Diana and Robin have reached an understanding, but it is finally clear to me that he will never feel anything for me but a brotherly affection. I could go on hoping forever that he may change, but I cannot live like that for another five years of my life. I feel rather empty; not brokenhearted, as I thought I must be, but disoriented. It is as though I were a compass needle gone loose after being pointed in the same direction for so long. It is clear to me now that my love for Dev allowed me to be in love and have my music at the same time. I must have known there was no danger of him ever sweeping me off my feet and distracting me from my art.”
“I have always thought ... But now is perhaps not the time to say it.”
“No, pray continue.”
“I think you are too strong for the viscount. I could understand his infatuation with a woman like Diana, but I doubt he would ever turn to you in any romantic way. He needs someone to protect.”
“I know you are right. I have probably always known it. Well, I suppose that I will feel lost for a while, but I cannot like it. Now, tell me about Simon.”
Judith blushed. “He called yesterday to apologize. He seems to want to renew our friendship. But I don’t think it is any more than that. I am not sure what kind of heartache I am letting myself in for.”
“Better heartache than nothing,” advised Barbara. “I am sure it will all come right between you. You are clearly made for one another. Come, we’d better turn back before we get lost in the park!”
The snow was still coming down steadily, and the return to the Wares’ was slow going, but Judith thanked Barbara for persevering despite the weather, for the exercise had been wonderful.
“Will you come in for a cup of tea?”
“Not today, thank you, Judith. Shall I see you tomorrow?”
“Only if it be in the morning. My engagement with Simon is in the afternoon.”
Barbara smiled. “ ‘Oh, wonderful, wonderful ... and after that, beyond all whooping.'”
“I think your enthusiasm is a bit premature, my friend,” said Judith, trying to subdue the feelings of hope that rose with her friend’s response. “I told you, it is more than likely he still only sees me as a friend. The more appropriate quote would be ‘How full of briars is this working-day world.'"
“You have had more than your share of the briars, Judith. I think that you will be seeing some roses. You deserve them.”
* * * *
The next day was bright, dry, and cold. The snow had left a thick frosting on the ground and roofs. Later that day, of course, it would melt, and the soot and traffic would ruin the pristine whiteness. The streets were always filthy, though, and Wiggins had arrived at Simon’s cold and wet. They were back to reading political speeches and commentaries, and Wiggins was sorry to leave the world of fiction.
Simon could not keep his mind on the reading. He was daydreaming like any schoolboy, imagining his arms around Judith, tilting her head back, kissing her full on the lips ...
“Do you want me to continue with the next speech, your grace?” Wiggins was asking this a second time, after the long silence that had followed the first speech. Usually Simon asked him to take notes, or go back to a pertinent section, but either the duke was very involved with the ideas raised, or completely distracted, thought Wiggins.
Simon grinned in his direction. “I beg your pardon. I was obviously woolgathering. As a matter of fact, we may as well stop for today. I am quite unable to fix my mind on Lord Phillips’ response to his opponent at all. Why don’t you take the rest of the morning off? I shall see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, your grace. Thank you, your grace.”
After Wiggins had gone, Simon was not sure how he was going to make it through the morning. He was not riding and was too restless to sit with Francis. He was very pleased, therefore, when the butler announced Robin.
“I hope I don’t disturb you, Simon?”
“I’m glad you’ve come, Robin. I was just about ready to jump out of my skin. Come in, sit down. Cranston, could you bring us some tea?”
“What has you blue-deviled?” Robin asked.
“I am about to begin my courtship of Miss Ware, and I must admit that I am too eager. I am looking forward to the holidays, Robin, when I will have time to woo her properly.”
Robin grinned at Simon’s nervousness. “You sound like a typical lover.”
“It’s all very well for you to say. You know you have Diana’s heart. Will you come for a drive with me this afternoon? I have promised to take Miss Ware up with me, but I am sure that she would enjoy seeing us both.” Simon thought this invitation to Robin was rather inspired. Having someone else in the carriage would make it easier for Judith to feel at ease, and make his way a bit smoother.
To Judith, of course, Robin’s presence meant one thing: Simon was not romantically interested and had brought his friend along as a protector. She tried not to let her disappointment show as she was helped into the carriage. After all, it was not Robin’s fault Simon did not love her, and she would have to save her despair for later.
Simon had ordered the old landaulet, since there were three of them, and he and Robin settled back to face Judith. They fell into an animated discussion of new farming methods as Judith listened. They were both good men, she thought, with a sense of responsibility that exceeded some of their contemporaries.
Simon suddenly realized that they were so engrossed they had quite ignored Judith, and he stopped midsentence to apologize.
“That is quite all right, your grace. I have enjoyed listening to you, and though I know very little about farming, was able to follow you very well. I was thinking how fortunate your tenants are, to have responsible landlords.”
“Enough of business,” Simon said, brushing off Judith’s compliment. “You will be at Ashurst, Miss Ware?”
“No, your grace. I have been invited, but I do not wish to leave my brother and Hannah
on the first Christmas in our new home.”
“I understand,” the duke said, not letting his disappointment into his voice. He had been sure that Judith would be present and had hoped that being together daily would enable him to discover the state of her feelings toward him. The two weeks with the Stanleys did not seem so inviting, now that he knew that Judith would not be there.
They had almost reached the park, and the sun, which had kept them a bit warm, was being obscured by clouds. “It looks like we are in for more snow,” said Robin, glancing up at the graying sky.
“Are you warm enough, Miss Ware?” asked Simon as he himself began to feel the cold.
“For the moment, your grace.”
“Well, we will not go too far into the park,” said Simon. “We will have to keep our drive shorter than I had planned.”
Judith was fairly subdued for the rest of the ride. Simon had not sounded at all let down by her holiday plans. In fact, he had probably only asked to be polite, she thought. She had looked forward to being alone with him this afternoon, and they had had no chance for personal conversation. She was almost relieved when they reached her door and the groom helped her down.
“Thank you for the outing, your grace. I wish you both a happy holiday.”
“And you also, Miss Ware,” Simon replied in the same formal tones. Had Judith heard him as they drove away, however, she would have felt quite different.
“Damn,” he said as the carriage turned the corner, “I thought she was sure to be at Ashurst. Now I won’t be able to see her for almost two weeks.”
“I should be insulted, but I understand, Simon. Will you be traveling with us?”
“If you have room for me, Robin.”
“We are bringing my father’s coach, so you are very welcome.”
“Till Sunday then,” Simon said, when he dropped Robin off, and returned home, now impatient for the end rather than the beginning of the holidays.
Chapter 32
Judith had hoped to hear from the duke again, and when he did | not call before leaving for Ashurst, was even more convinced that her place in his life was as a friend and not as a romantic interest.
How can I ever hope to move beyond friendship if we never see each other? she worried. The fact that Simon couldn’t see her was becoming more important. Now that she was aware of him physically, she realized he had been right: one did, quite naturally, wish to be seen, to be complimented, to attract by one’s dress or the sheen of one’s hair, or the green in one’s eyes brought out by a particular shade of green. If he couldn’t see her, then how on earth could he keep her in mind? And while she may be able to see him at the Stanleys’, the initiative was all his. Judith felt her poverty and lack of position more keenly than she had ever done.
The holidays, which she had been looking forward to, were rather lonely, although Christmas Day itself was lovely. After breakfast they all attended services at the local parish, and although the day was foggy and cold, they were warmed by the candles, the sermon, and the realization that they were together as a family. After three years of being an onlooker at other families’ holidays, Judith was happy to be returning to their own house, which smelled of apples and sage and onion from the small capon Hannah was roasting. They toasted one another, and Judith sat down to dinner in her green dress. Stephen’s gift to her had been paints and brushes, and she had bought him a new scarf and gloves. For Hannah, they had both gone in on a coach ticket so she could visit her family. After supper, they spent the evening reading in front of the fire. But the next day, Stephen was back at work, and Judith was on her own. No Barbara to have tea with, no riding, and no hope, false or otherwise, that Simon might call. She painted, she read, she walked when the weather was dry, but the days after Christmas seemed to crawl by.
Toward the end of the fortnight, Judith was ready to cry in frustration. She decided she’d better take herself in hand and walk to Hatchards to survey the latest novels. The exercise and having a particular destination would do her good.
The bookseller’s was quiet, so it was almost like being in a private library. The sight and smell of new books, as well as her walk, calmed her down, and she was quite lost in a collection of Byron’s poems when she felt someone near her. She looked up, and across from her, equally engrossed, was Simon’s reader. He looked up and caught her looking at him. She lowered her gaze, but could no longer concentrate on the words in front of her. Perhaps he was purchasing something for the duke’s return. She looked up again and saw that what he was holding could only be the latest novel from the Minerva Press. The duke might enjoy Miss Austen, but Judith could not conceive of his tastes running to errant monks or dashing earls, so this man must be a devotee himself. Judith smiled to herself at the incongruous picture. To see an older man just as absorbed as the usual bevy of giggling young ladies, was amusing and also somewhat touching. He looked as though he had had a hard life, and perhaps a romance or two helped him escape his troubles. Surely that was a worthier result than confirming your ladies in their silliness.
I wish I were reading for Simon again, thought Judith. I know that then I could tell if Simon loved me, or if it is only friendly interest. As she watched the avid reader in front of her, she was suddenly inspired. Did she dare? Well, it was no worse than her original venture. She moved around until she was standing next to Wiggins. “I beg your pardon,” she said.
Wiggins looked a little dazed as he lifted his head. He had been wooing Lady Lucinda Luxley and to be brought back to the reality of the bookstore was jarring. It took him a moment to recognize Judith as the young lady he had seen before.
“I know this is forward of me, but may I ask you a question?” she said.
Wiggins blinked in surprise and nodded.
“Are you employed by the Duke of Sutton as his reader?”
“Why, yes, miss. However did you know?”
“I saw you in here with him a few weeks ago and you spoke to me briefly. I would like to talk to you privately. If you have a few minutes to spare, could we sit down to tea across the street? I know this seems a bit bold, but it is very important to me.”
Wiggins had liked Judith immediately. First of all, she was not Lady Lucinda, who though wonderful to woo in fantasy, would have been intimidating in a real-life version. Judith was wearing her old cloak, and her manner, though straightforward and direct and her request unconventional, was not what his wife would have called bold. He was sure that whatever she wanted to talk about had something to do with Simon. Her eyes were begging him not to refuse, and his curiosity was not going to let him rest, so he nodded his agreement, and out they went, heading for the tea shop on the corner.
“Shall we have some scones with tea?” asked Judith. Wiggins nodded, and they both sat silently until the tea and the warm triangles were set in front of them.
“I know this must seem rather odd to you,” Judith began. “Perhaps I had better explain from the beginning.”
Without giving every detail, Judith sketched out her acquaintance with Simon. Wiggins liked her more and more as she spoke. It was clear to him that she loved the duke. He had no way of knowing whether the duke loved her.
“The duke has forgiven me my deception and called upon me since the dinner party, but I have no way to be in his company naturally, as a young lady of the ton might be.”
Wiggins had been nodding sympathetically during the story. Although Judith came from a good family, she had had to work for her living just the way he had. She had courage, he decided, for while he had never expected his life to be anything other than an eight-to-six position, she had been brought up differently. His clerkship, in fact, had been considered a rise in station by his family. His father kept a butcher shop, but recognizing his son’s “scholarly” qualities, had sent him to school. Over his years as clerk, Wiggins had often wished he had taken after his father, for though butchering was messy, hard work, it certainly afforded some creative outlet, if only in cutting chops to the right size. A
nd it afforded one the freedom to chat with customers and move from task to task. Hunched over his desk, raised high on his stool, Wiggins would sometimes see himself in a blood-splattered apron, bringing his cleaver down neatly to separate the leg and arm joints of the owner of the firm. But, however much he didn’t like it, he had risen while Judith had fallen in station. He pulled himself back to the present as she continued.
“Perhaps I am too impatient, or too unladylike, but I cannot see how friendly calls from the duke or occasional dinners with the Stanleys will result in anything. I want something more like the intimacy that existed when I was reading for him.”
Wiggins was beginning to get nervous. Was this young woman going to ask him to give up his position so she could see the duke more regularly? If she offered, why would the duke not accept? Who wouldn’t prefer a vibrant young woman to a dried-out old man like himself? Wiggins had himself halfway home, preparing to tell his wife the bad news, when Judith leaned forward, saying, “I want to ask you a favor.”
“Yes, yes, I agree. It would be better for the duke if you returned. I will hand in my notice, but I would ask for a few weeks more.” Wiggins was about to push back his chair and rewind himself when Judith realized what he was talking about.
She put out her hand and patted his arm, saying, “Oh, dear, I’ve muddled this whole thing. Of course I would not presume to replace you. It is your position now and I am sure the duke is very satisfied with you. And now that he knows who I am, his grace would consider it improper of me to be there alone with him. He can’t rehire the good friend of his friends.”
Wiggins was wiping his brow with his napkin—a gesture that left a few crumbs—and sank back in his chair as though released from an awful tension.
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