Julia’s father, Mister Bellevue had been invaluable to him in that trying time. The man had patiently mentored Godwin when he had first inherited the barony and indeed, became not just his late father’s friend, but his own as well. It seemed completely natural then, when Godwin thought of marriage, he should speak to Mister Bellevue, not to ask for advice, but to ask for permission to court his youngest daughter when she began her season; the young girl who had so intrigued him.
Godwin assumed that the girl’s father would speak to her of the arrangement. He did not yet see the need to approach the girl directly. She was young and there was plenty of time. Then Mister Bellevue died and there was no time at all.
A letter informed him of Mister Bellevue’s death and it was with a heavy heart that he read the particulars. According to the solicitors, her father’s will indicated that the girl would now be expected to marry him or lose her house in Bath. At first he thought just to deed the building to her, but there was some complication with a cousin. Godwin realized he had to go and meet with Miss Bellevue and speak to her in person. He could not consign such news to a letter; so he shelved his other business and planned to travel to Bath. He had sent a short correspondence to his now fiancée, the youngest Bellevue daughter informing her of his desire to see her. He wanted to speak to her personally. He called his manservant and ordered the London house closed and preparations made. The girl was his responsibility now.
When he had met with Miss Bellevue yesterday, she was as striking and stately as he remembered. A woman who could look him in the eye, and she did, sizing him up, and finding him wanting. He realized almost immediately, to his great chagrin, that she preferred his brother Cedric’s company to his own. He was dismayed, but he was also never one to shrink from a challenge. She merely did not know him. That could be remedied. He would begin by escorting her to the sunset picnic at the Pratt residence. Cedric would undoubtedly be at the picnic, but Godwin could not let that concern him. Miss Bellevue might think she knew Cedric; but he would show her he was the better man.
It had been a while since he was so excited to go to a picnic, or in fact, any kind of a party. He usually shunned such events, but this evening it seemed not such a chore. He called for the carriage and made sure that it was in perfect accord for the ride, even though the Bellevue residence was only a few blocks from the Pratt’s, and the weather was warm and fine. It was truly the perfect day for a picnic. He smiled as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt beneath his coat and climbed into the carriage.
~.~
Miss Julia Bellevue was in a state of anxiety. Lord Fawkland would be here any moment, and she still sat trapped at the glass with her sister’s maid, Jacqueline, fussing with her hair. Although Julia could not blame the woman; her hair was a mass of dark curls that tended to turn into something akin to wool with the heat and humidity. Julia’s hair, like her tongue, often had a mind of its own. The fact that Jacqueline could do anything with it at all was a miracle, but Julia squirmed anxious to be done with the primping. In fact, she wished she was done with the whole picnic. Her dress irritated and her shoes, which were actually her sister Jane’s, were uncomfortable.
What made Julia most sore was the fact that she would be expected to converse with her betrothed, Lord Godwin Gruger, The Baron of Fawkland, and perhaps she would be required to speak with some other gentlemen of the Ton as well. Julia found such social events taxing. The only thing that she could look forward to was the fact that Lady Charity Abernathy and Miss Lavinia Grant, her dear friends would also be at the picnic.
Jacqueline pulled on a stubborn curl and pinned it in place and Julia winced. Surely, her hair would soon be completed! She reminded her sister Jane and her maid that the event was a picnic, not a ball.
“Lord Fawkland will be here any moment,” Julia said. “Are you not yet finished, Jacqueline?”
“Un moment mademoiselle,” The maid said as she placed the comb Jane had chosen in Julia’s hair.
“Gentlemen are accustomed to waiting for their ladies,” Jane reminded her.
Julia scowled at her sister as the butler announced Lord Fawkland’s arrival.
He was here! Julia felt her stomach turn over. “Oh, Jane,” she said, turning her head so that Jacqueline had to hold onto a curl “Ouch,” Julia winced.
“Pardon Mademoiselle.”
“What if I say something awful?” Julia said worriedly.
“You shall not,” Jane said with more confidence than Julia felt.
“Magnifique,” Jacqueline exclaimed at last, proud of her own handiwork.
“You look beautiful,” Jane said.
Julia had her doubts, but she took the compliment gracefully thanking both Jane and Jacqueline.
When at last she was dressed and ready Julia walked down the staircase with special care. Lord Fawkland was waiting in the drawing room and examining the paintings on the wall. The painting he stood in front of was one she herself had painted; of birds taking wing from a garden path. Next to it was another of her paintings, a simple depiction of Bath with a cat sitting contentedly on a wall. Oh why had she let Father hang them so publically? At least her name was not on any of them, only her initials in the lower right corner. She gripped the rail. She did not want to embarrass herself before the evening even started; by tripping and falling down the stair. She watched Lord Fawkland as she descended and wondered if this man could really be her future husband.
Lord Fawkland turned and smiled at her. The smile lit his whole face, and Julia relaxed a little. He did seem happy to see her, and not quite so stern as he had previously. He came to the bottom of the stair and took her hand as she stepped down. She was again struck with Lord Fawkland’s large stature. Though she was quite tall herself, standing on the last step, she could look Fawkland in the eye.
He has rather intense grey eyes, she thought as she stood fixed in his gaze. Her breath caught as he spoke.
“Miss Bellevue,” Lord Fawkland said as he bowed over Julia’s hand, holding it for only a brief moment before releasing her and turning toward Jane who came down the stair just behind her.
Now that Julia’s feet were firmly on the ground she realized that he was indeed a head taller than she. She had only a moment to study him covertly while he was speaking with Jane.
Lord Fawkland was quite handsome with his blond curls brushed back from his face. He had a strong jaw and a rather prominent nose.
He looked back to Julia still smiling; his voice deep and melodic, “I do not know when I have more looked forward to an outing. I am anxious to get to know you, Miss Bellevue. Your father always spoke so fondly of you.”
Julia was anxious too, but she did not think it had anything to do with getting to know him; and rather everything to do with what she already knew. What had Father said of her? She wondered.
Lord Fawkland helped her and Jane into the carriage before sitting on the seat opposite them. He smoothed a hand over his perfectly folded cravat and then laced his fingers together in his lap.
“It is such a short walk to the Pratt’s,” Julia commented. “It is a hardly worth the trouble of a carriage.” After she said it, she wondered if she had sounded churlish.
“Perhaps,” Lord Fawkland said, “But I wished to have a moment with you before I lost you to the crowds and festivities of the picnic.”
Julia did not answer. She did not know what to say. It would be rude to stare out the window, as she usually did during carriage rides, but it seemed equally rude to stare at him. She looked at her shoes, or rather Jane’s shoes on her feet.
“It is a very nice carriage,” Jane said trying to save the moment and Julia had to agree. The carriage was well-built, neat and fresh, as if it had just been cleaned, but she did not say so. She kept her own council.
But Lord Fawkland seemed intent on drawing her into conversation. “Do you like to take walks, Miss Bellevue?” Lord Fawkland inquired of her. “Do you have a favorite place?”
Julia startled. She wa
s unused to being addressed directly. Everyone who knew Julia, knew that she took time to warm up to a person. Everyone who knew her left her add to the conversation as she liked. Lord Fawkland did not know her.
“I suppose I do,” she said at last answering the first question. Then she lapsed into silence again, creasing and re-creasing the folds of her dress. “Not always, of course,” she added, looking at him covertly through her lashes. He was so very handsome…and a horrible rake, she reminded herself; if the rumors could be believed.
“No, not always,” Lord Fawkland agreed. “I do not believe anyone enjoys a walk through some of the London streets, especially in summer…It can be… distressing,” he finished somewhat hesitantly and then changed tack. “Though I often enjoy a walk in brisk weather, just to see the flora and fauna, or perhaps the birds.”
“I think it can be rather indolent…just walking,” Julia said. “That is if you have nowhere you mean to go.” Had she just said that aloud? Did she call him slothful for walking without a destination? Oh dear. She was a horrible person. She should just be silent. She always said the wrong thing. She threw a hopeful glance at Jane. Her sister would hold this conversation together. Julia knew she would, but Lord Fawkland began yet again, addressing her, more specifically now. “I noticed you had several paintings of birds and cats. Did you buy them locally?”
The birds? She thought, and then she realized he meant the paintings themselves…her paintings. Julia looked at him wide eyed, her heart in her throat. “Yes,” she said at last. “They are local.”
“One depicted a scene here in Bath, but I did not recognize the painter.”
Her mouth became dry as a desert.
“That’s because they are Ju…” Jane began and Julia sent her a horrified look. Her sister changed mid-word. “Just a local artist,” she finished.
“They are quite good. Cheery,” he added, “and bold.”
“Are you a collector?” Jane asked.
“No. I would not call myself an expert, but I know what I like.” His eyes were back on Julia.
Julia was about ready to leap from the coach. It was only a few blocks to the picnic. Surely they should have arrived by now. She found herself sinking into the corner, and Jane poked her, albeit unobtrusively. This whole outing was a horrible idea. She was sure to disgrace herself.
“Miss Bellevue,” Lord Fawkland said as the carriage stopped. “I am quite determined to get to know you and hope you will wish to get to know me as well.”
~.~
The Pratt picnic was begun in earnest. A cheer went up from a group of ladies just as the sisters alighted from the carriage and Julia’s eyes were drawn to them. The ladies were playing a game of shuttlecock. Julia watched for a moment. It did not look like a complicated game. One just needed to hit the shuttlecock with the racquets. That was straightforward enough. There was a bit of an error as one lady got a tad tangled in her skirt and the group let out a sad sigh to see a point lost. However, Julia found it quite entertaining to see the husbands cheering the women on to victory. For most of the games, it was the women cheering their men. She smiled at their antics.
Lavinia hurried up to greet them.
Jane’s friend, Lady Ebba followed Lavinia. After introductions were made all around, Lavinia turned from Julia to Jane, “We were looking for someone to play shuttlecock,” she said. “We need another pair for the game. Married ladies are playing against the unmarried,” Lavinia explained. She looked back at Julia, pleading. “Please play,” she said.
“Where is Lady Charity? Julia asked somewhat hesitantly.
“She was paired with one of the Poppy girls earlier,” Lavinia said.
Jane had already engaged in conversation with Lady Ebba. Julia realized she could either play or stay and converse with Lord Fawkland. She did not think herself adept at shuttlecock, but conversation was even a more distressing pastime than the game.
She looked back at Lord Fawkland, uncertain. Apparently he took her uncertainty to mean that she wished to play. “Enjoy yourself,” he said. “We will meet again before dinner.” He bowed smartly.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, feeling completely at odds. She did not want to play shuttlecock, but she also did not want to be left alone with Lord Fawkland. There seemed to be no third choice.
“I do not want you to feel coerced into …anything,” he said. He took her hand momentarily, and looked at her with such intensity it took her breath. “Your father and I were more than acquaintances, Miss Bellevue. I counted him as my good friend and mentor: perhaps even as a second father.”
Well, she thought. Although she did not know Lord Fawkland, her father had trusted this man. She could at least attempt to get to know him.
“I think we will be able to find some common ground, if we but try. Do you agree?” he asked.
She nodded. She had no idea if she agreed or not, but he released her with a smile.
She hurried off with Lavinia to play the game. She hoped this was not a mistake.
Julia and Lavinia played against Jane and Lady Ebba. She did not know the other woman, but that was not unusual. She had met few of the crowd here, thought it seemed Jane had known them all for ages by their enthusiastic greetings. How Jane had actually met them all, Julia had no idea. Jane always seemed to have a cluster of friends. Julia had enough trouble keeping a conversation going with only one.
It did not take long for Julia to learn that her life as a near recluse did not prepare her for an afternoon of sport. She could handle a paint brush with ease and put paint exactly where she wanted it, but the racket was not so amenable. She had a difficult time getting the racket to connect with the shuttlecock at all. Julia swung and missed several times since the start of the game. Once she managed to bat the dratted thing back, quite by accident. Shuttlecock did not seem as if it should be a complicated game, but Julia could not master it. She held the racket at an awkward angle and after a while, it got heavy so she switched it to her non-dominant hand. That did not help her aim, but it seemed that Lavinia was doing well enough without her aid; taking up where Julia was lacking. Laughing, she batted the shuttlecock back to Jane who missed it, and Lavinia hopped in excitement.
Julia glanced around the lawn as Lavinia held up their side. Her gaze caught Lord Fawkland looking their direction and she looked quickly away. Oh, why was he not otherwise engaged? She did not want him to see her make a fool of herself with this silly game. It was rather warm in the sun, and once exerting oneself in the game, it became quite uncomfortable even though the heat of the day was already subsiding.
Men and women played at cricket and shuttlecock on the far hill while others lounged, sipping from glasses beaded with condensation. Now that sounded like a nice pastime. She was actually quite thirsty. She looked again but did not see Lord Fawkland now. If she had stayed with him, she could have been sipping some sweet drink. She turned, searching for him, wondering if he was still watching her. She hoped not. Certainly he had nothing to cheer for.
A shuttle cock flew past her head…again.
“Julia!” Lavinia called. “You are not even trying,” Her friend chastised her. It didn’t matter. Lavinia had scored all of the points for their side, although Jane and Lady Ebba were maintaining a sizable lead while Julia stumbled about and swung wildly. She looked like a pigeon with a broken wing, fluttering about without hope of taking flight. She knew the game was named for the feathered implement she was supposed to hit, but it seemed it could also be named for a headless cock which ran about in its death throws. She was an apt example of said bird. She missed once again, but this time she attempted to at least do so with grace. When the shuttlecock landed just out of Julia’s reach for what must have been the tenth time, she dropped her racket on to the grass and threw up her hands.
“I give up” Julia exclaimed, panting. Sweat did not mar the other women’s dresses as it did hers. They all looked as cool as they did when they started the game. Julia’s hair, which Jacqueline had worked
so hard to achieve, was sticking to her neck in ringlets. “I am sorry, Lavinia. But we will never catch up, and sweating like a sow is not the way for me to impress my future husband. Jane, I’m going to find Charity,” Julia said as she turned to leave the field.
Jane caught up with her momentarily. “Oh Julia, you have stained your slipper!” Jane pointed down at the toe of Julia’s shoe. The embroidery was covered with a green grass stain. Well, Julia thought, what else could one expect playing such a game as shuttlecock.
“What will your future husband think of you, with a stained shoe? You mustn’t appear slovenly. Perhaps I can beg a spare pair off of Lady Pratt.”
Jane turned a fretful gaze around the lawn, searching for the hostess.
“Jane, if my future husband will not have me with a single grass stain, then I do not believe we would ever manage to make marriage work.” Julia responded dryly. “I am not a dainty woman, like you sister. He will just have to accept that.”
Jane sighed and re-pinned a curl that was dangling in Julia’s face.
“Is it hopeless?” Julia asked of her hair.
“Of course not,” Jane said brightly adjusting a few pins. “Shall we find some refreshment?”
Julia nodded. She was parched.
Lavinia caught up to them laughing. “Do not worry, Julia” she said with a cheerful smile. “It was a fun game even if we lost.” Julia was glad that Lavinia had been her partner instead of Jane. Jane would not have been so magnanimous about her sister’s ineptitude.
Lavinia made to follow Julia and Jane off the field, but was waylaid by Flora Muirwood and one of the Poppy sisters who had just won their own game. She hesitated.
“Shall we meet you again before dinner?” Jane asked Lavinia.
“Yes, of course” Lavinia agreed.
The Baron in Bath - Miss Julia Bellevue: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 4) Page 6
