“If Cousin Rupert would even sell it,” Jane added. “If you fail to marry Lord Fawkland by summer’s end, the house reverts to Cousin Rupert, and his grasping wife has been trying to find her way into Society for years. If she gets her hands on this house, she will not give it up.”
Julia wrinkled her nose with the thought. “Oh, why did Father not leave the house to me directly instead of tying it to my marriage with Fawkland?” Julia said.
“I’m sure Father thought to have you well settled, before he passed.” Jane said softly. “He did not plan on dying.”
“I know,” Julia said chastised. “It is just that this house is everything I could ever need.”
“I know you love the city, Julia and want to keep the townhouse,” Jane added. “So will you not try to find out if the man interests you at least a little? Give Lord Fawkland a chance. Perhaps he will be better than you remember.”
“Better than the gossips say?” Julia asked.
“Gossips have been known to be wrong,” Jane pointed out. “If not, then Lady Charity and Miss Grant have the right of it. We can make a pitch for another match for you. If Cousin Rupert will not release this house, perhaps the gentleman will have one of his own and you can decorate it to your liking. You can do none of those things in this attic room.”
Julia paused in her brush cleaning as a breeze blew in ruffling the curtains. The windows were thrown open and Julia had tied the curtains back into a knot of bright yellow. The air came through the high window in a soft breeze, just enough to comfort the painter. It was a perfect room. She did not want to lose it, but she could decorate another house. She didn’t want to, but she could. That was not the only problem though.
“No one wants to marry me, Janey. The rumors are that I am not even truly a Bellevue and everyone knows it. The Ton has been more than vocal for my whole life. Perhaps that is why Father gave me to that odious man.” Julia’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He knew no other would want me.”
Julia saw Jane’s back stiffen. Her sister hated when Julia brought up the rumor. Both Jane and Father had been insisting for ages that it was meaningless talk, but of course, it wasn’t. Meaningless talk eventually burnt itself out. These rumors did not.
“I have heard the gossips call me an Amazon and an unnatural giant. The gentlemen need only to glance at me, and they see my father’s brawny appearance, Jane. Look at me.” Tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, my dear sister,” Jane began, reaching out to hug her. “You are my sister. Father completely denied the rumor that mother was unfaithful. It angered him that the fudge would not die.” Jane held on to Julia’s hand and declared, “You should ignore it Julia. It is of no consequence.”
“How can I find a man to marry when I can barely find a man to dance with who I am not head and shoulders taller than…?”
“When a man is in love,” Lavinia interrupted taking Julia’s other hand. “It does not matter.”
Julia sighed. Lavinia was ever the optimist, ever the romantic. Julia supposed Lavinia could afford to be with her bright blue eyes and golden hair, but her life was not like that. Men were not like that. Not for Julia. Surely what happened to her mother taught her that.
Julia had few memories of her mother, but she had heard much, perhaps too much. First that her mother had tried to run away with a rake of a man; and then that he had not even been part of the Ton, just a brawny good-looking fellow with a silver tongue. Some said he was a bastard as well. Julia was supposedly the child of that union. So Jane and Julia were not true sisters, but only half-sisters. Some said that the day, the man had booked passage to America Julia’s mother had been on her way to join him, to run away with him, but she had been killed when her carriage overturned.
Father had called the stories preposterous, and as Julia got older he still repudiated the rumor. Still if her mother was going to run away, wouldn’t she have taken Julia with her? Would she leave her child, with a man not her father? For that Julia had no answer, but secretly thought perhaps even her mother did not want her.
Her father had been good to her, and never reminded her of her questionable parentage. In fact he laughed at the rumors and simply claimed people needed something to talk about. If it is not your mother it will be someone else.
Jane had always believed Father, but Jane was not the one with the Amazonian build. Jane was not the one tormented. One only had to look at Julia beside Jane to see it was so. If the rumors were true, then she did not know her real father and had no desire to; any man who would abandon the mother of his child was not a man worth knowing. He was a bastard who sired a bastard. As much as she hated it, Julia could not look in the mirror without thinking the rumors were accurate. She and Jane had nothing in common except for their brown hair.
“I can see in the glass, Jane.”
“I wish you would not say such a thing, Julia. Father would be furiously upset to hear you speak those awful rumors aloud. He must be turning in his grave. He always believed in mother’s fidelity. Always. Why can you not do so too?”
Julia just shook her head. She sat down upon the edge of the pouf now that her brushes were laid out to dry. The pouf and the window seat were the only chairs available in the attic retreat.
“You are his daughter. Don’t you see?” Jane continued. “Even after his death Father is trying to do the best thing he can for you, and see you safely married, to a titled lord so that no one will be able to say you are not his daughter.”
“But even if there is no truth to any of the talk, Lord Fawkland’s rumors, added to my own makes everything worse.”
Jane made it sound so simple. She just had to accept Godwin, as her husband, a rake and a libertine, and a man who would have full control over her life. The thought terrified her. No man Julia had ever met, excepting perhaps Father, had been even the slightest bit honest. In fact few women were. Society demanded a certain type of behavior. If everyone was wearing that mask, the mask of polite social behavior, how was she ever to get to know anyone? More than that, he would know of her birth. How much respect could he give her? The Godwin she remembered didn’t even respect her dolls.
Perhaps her sister could weather rumors better than she could. As a child the taunts had hurt Julia, and when the ladies’ children didn’t want to play with her, it left her to her own devices until Cedric Gruger, The Baron’s younger brother, dragged her along on his schemes. At last she had a friend, even if he was a boy and often rougher than she preferred, in childhood he had been her only friend. Oh why hadn’t her father betrothed her to Cedric instead of Godwin?
You don’t know for sure what sort of man Lord Fawkland had grown into,” Lavinia urged. “My Mr. Hart says he is upright and good.”
Julia stared heavenward. “Are you still in correspondence with that captain’s clerk?” Julia asked.
She had expected Lavinia’s infatuation to burn out long ago, but Julia latched onto the distraction to draw the attention away from her own problems.
“Oh yes,” Lavinia said producing several letters from her reticule which were written by the aforementioned naval clerk. She hugged them to her breast.
“Lavinia!” Jane said appalled. “You must turn him away. What does your chaperone say?”
Lavinia only held the letters closer and beamed. “She says I must forget him, but I cannot. I will have no other.”
A captain’s clerk would be near penniless, Julia thought. Anyone of quality would at least start as a midshipman.
“Isn’t it romantic?” Lavinia said.
“Are you quite mad?” Jane asked. “He is completely unsuitable. Not even a gentleman.”
“Perhaps we shall run away together.” Lavinia’s eyes were alight.
“Do not even say it,” Julia added.
She hoped Lavinia was teasing, but she was not certain. Lavinia was ever with a jest. Sometimes Lavinia’s simple understanding of life seemed better than her own, but at least she herself was in no danger of falling for a rogue and running off to hav
e an illegitimate child. The same could not be said for Lavinia.
“At least I shall not end up as my mother did,” Julia said somewhat sadly. “No man would want to carry me off. Even if they wanted to, they would have to be a behemoth to carry off this great weight.”
Lavinia chuckled. “I am sure love will find a way. Trust me, Julia. When you find a man you love, this house will cease to matter.”
“I very much doubt that,” Jane added dryly.
“I would give myself only for love, not money,” Lavinia repeated stubbornly. “I could never marry for power or position, and I think less of one who would. It is ghastly.” She shuddered.
“Gads,” Jane said tartly. “You are naught but a child. You would rather live in the streets like a beggar?”
Julia could see that her sister was beginning to get angry.
“I think at the first sign of rain and cold you would like to have the house, Lavinia. You are mistaken.”
“And what of love,” Lavinia retorted. “She cannot marry Lord Fawkland if she does not love him.”
“She will come to love him if she marries him,” Jane said stoically.
“I would never give up love for the sake of a house,” Lavinia said. “It is only a house!”
“Stop it!” Julia snapped. Both her sister and her friend reddened when they realized how they had been carrying on.
Julia sighed. She knew they were only arguing because they loved her. They each saw a different way to help her. Jane was ever practical, but Lavinia was a social flower who would wilt without the praise of the men of the Ton. Perhaps she was right. Lavinia could not survive without love. But she had a softness and vulnerability about her that men seemed to fawn over. Perhaps some of that grace would rub off on Julia. She could only hope. Would Julia trade her Amazonian looks for such naivety? She thought not, and yet she loved Lavinia like a sister. Julia put her hand on her friend’s. “Never change, Lavinia. For you, love is like sunshine and water, but I think love is not in the stars for all of us.”
Lavinia smiled. “I do believe that you too will find love, my dear friend.”
“And I think you will be happier married,” Jane said. “With Lord Fawkland you will have this house which I know you have always loved. But you are my sister and I will always see that you are cared for no matter what happens.”
It warmed Julia’s heart to know that Jane would provide for her, if need be, but she could never allow herself to be a burden. Jane had her allowance from her husband, The Earl, but she had her own home, her own life. Jane had taken this summer in Bath, leaving her own husband behind, to spend time with Julia and to help her. Julia wanted this to be the last time she inconvenienced her sister, but she did not know if that was within her ability.
“Shall we have breakfast?” Jane urged. “It will make you feel better, Julia.”
They left the attic study but Jane did not descend the stairs as Julia thought she would.
“I shall send for the tea and cakes to be brought up to my room. We can have a quiet morning to ourselves, without any of the fuss. I can see you are distraught and hanging on to maudlin thoughts,” Jane said.
“No,” Julia said. “We shall go down. What will Lavinia think of us?” She smiled at her friend.
“I am your friend, Julia,” Lavinia said. “I think nothing at all.”
Julia blinked at her, and Lavinia stared back nonplused. Sometimes Julia thought Lavina said these silly comments just to make her smile. It worked.
“No. I am quite alright. Thank you,” said Julia softly catching their hands as they turned to go down to breakfast. “Thank you both.”
~.~
Chapter Four
It was late for breakfast and the dining room was bright with the morning sun shining on the mahogany furniture. The table was set with tea and biscuits. Julia was buttering a scone, when breakfast was interrupted.
Jane looked up from cracking her egg as the butler entered with a letter. “Yes, Harrington?” Jane said.
“A messenger just arrived,” he replied, offering the letter to Jane. Julia recognized it as being from The Lady Shalace, Charity’s mother. Jane opened it and smiled at Julia.
“We are invited to a musicale soiree this evening at Lakewood Place,” she said. “I presume you already told Lady Charity we would attend?”
“I have,” Julia said. She could not disappoint her friend.
“Oh how wonderful,” Lavinia said clasping her hands. “It should be great fun. I am so looking forward to Mister Lodder. I was privileged to hear him perform last year.”
“And you listened to the performance?” Julia teased.
“A lady has two ears,” Lavinia stated, “So that she can listen to the gentleman at her side as well as the gentleman singing.”
Julia laughed feeling in much better spirits.
“Please inform the messenger to send our acceptance,” Jane said formally, and Harrington left them to their breakfast. Jane turned back to the conversation. “We also heard Mister Lodder perform at Vauxhall, before he moved to Bath, oh several years ago. His voice is quite exquisite.”
The women continued with their breakfast and conversation. Jane looked at her sister covertly, her attention seeming to be on her breakfast as she said, “The Gruger brothers have both sent their acceptance to Lady Shalace. They will be at the musicale, Julia, so you will be able to meet them again at last, and see if the elder brother will suit.”
Julia had the scone to her mouth when Jane spoke. The mood of melancholy returned post haste.
“Very well,” Julia said. She sipped her tea while Lavinia and Jane chatted; their earlier argument forgotten as they spoke of men and music. Julia wanted to sulk. She really did, but she could not. She did need to make an appearance at the musicale. She had promised Charity. And like it or not, she did need to speak to Lord Falkland. If she was too overcome, she would just call the carriage and leave as soon as she was able.
“I will see you then at the musicale,” Lavinia said as she took her leave. She kissed Julia on the cheek and whispered. “You will find love, dear Julia. I just know it.”
~.~
Later that afternoon, Julia and Jane were in Julia’s dressing room with an abundance of clothing and accessories strewn about as Jane tried to find Julia something suitable to wear. Julia was lounging on the chaise while Jane worked to outfit her sister. Julia’s dressing room was spacious, but did not have the breeze of the attic room. The rooms, which while bordering on austere in furniture were all vibrant tones, bold and beautiful colors spoke loudly to Julia’s soul. Both her bedroom and the dressing room were small, but Julia did not care. Everything of importance; everything she was, was encompassed in the attic room where she painted. Sometimes she fell asleep on the pouf, and didn’t go to her room at all. She cared nothing for her dresses and regularly soiled them accidentally by painting whenever she got a whim. “You have nothing to wear,” Jane declared.
“Surely that is not so,” Julia protested thinking this whole ordeal was maddening. “What about the white one?” she asked. It was simple and cool in the summer heat.
Jane looked askance and sighed as the maid entered with another armful of clothing. There was nowhere convenient left to lay the garments.
Jane waved ineffectually at the maid.
Julia knew her rooms were nothing like the rooms Jane shared with her husband, The Earl of Keegain. Even here in Bath, Jane’s room was packed to the gills with all of her things. Clothing, jewelry and accessories burst out of wardrobes and drawers that could never contain them. Jane’s maid had brought in several loads of clothes for her mistress’ perusal, to outfit Julia for tonight’s event. Jane had found fault with everything in Julia’s closet.
“None of your dresses are suitable,” Jane said shaking her head. “I have already been through the lot of them.” She held one of the dresses with two fingers as if touching it would soil her hands.
“It is only a musicale. You act as if we a
re going to court. It doesn’t matter if…” Julia broke off as she rescued a tippet from her sister and clutched it to herself as her sister tossed out several of her favorite pieces. Jane had already decided that none of Julia’s shoes were pointy-toed enough to be worn. They were in a pile to be given away, but Julia had secretly retrieved her favorite slippers and tucked them under the edge of the blanket.
“You are meeting your betrothed for the first time since you were a child,” Jane protested. “You must look your best. When is the last time you replaced any of your dresses, Julia?” Jane said with a scowl. “They are nearly three seasons past being in fashion. They all look like something a dowager would wear. You should have given some of them off to a seamstress to be remade.
Jane held a flowing dress aloft as she exclaimed. “What is this relic? There is enough fabric here for three dresses.”
“It is not as bad as all that” Julia said. But Jane continued undaunted.
“This neckline? Oh, Julia. Even Grandmamma would not wear this.”
“But it’s so comfortable,” Julia lamented as Jane threw it aside. “I like it. It’s fine for morning wear.”
Jane scowled at her.
Julia snatched up the dress and sat on her bed clutching it like a lovey.
“I could paint in it,” Julia said reasonably. “I have to have something to paint in shan’t I? I should not want to get paint on my best dresses. Even you have to agree with that, Jane.”
Jane ignored her as she tossed dresses on the bed beside Julia, and her maid sought to sort through them. “Oh! Does this one have paint on it as well?” Jane asked exasperated. “Yes paint!”
“See,” Julia said. “I need dresses to paint in.”
“Why didn’t you paint in that one?” Jane pointed to the dress with the draw string neckline.
“I don’t know.” Julia said. She hung her head shamefacedly. She snatched up the aforementioned dress and hugged it to herself as she lay on the bed. “I can use this one only when I paint,” she said. “I promise.” She laid it with the other one that Jane had discarded.
The Baron in Bath - Miss Julia Bellevue: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 4) Page 3
