“And then what happened?” Percy questioned. The cards were pushed aside now, as they listened to Captain Jack’s tale.
“I returned to my ship.” His face became more glum as he remembered the condition of his ship. “I never should have written to her,” the Captain said, “but I could think of nothing else, but her sweet face. I decided to send her a love letter. Then I thought, how should sign I it? I could not sign it Captain Jonathan Hartfield, so I signed it Mister Hart. My lady’s chaperone found said letters and learning they were from a clerk was incensed. Now I am barred from corresponding with her.”
“So correspond in your own name,” Godwin suggested.
“I cannot,” said Captain Jack. “She fancies herself in love with Mister Hart and will have none of it.”
The table burst into laughter fueled by their acquaintance’s woe and good drink. “He is the first man to be cuckolded by himself,” Percy snorted into his cup.
“I am not a cuckold,” Captain Jack complained.
“In time,” Samuel joked. “In time.”
“He will be jumping at shadows,” Percy added
“She is a maid.” Captain Jack roared. “I will not have her honor impinged.”
“Careful, Lord Beresford,” the Lieutenant added clapping Percy on the shoulder and nearly unseating him. “The Captain will be calling for a duel to assuage her honor.”
“I will be his second,” Samuel joked, “for all his stupidity he is my friend.”
“You are unfair to me, Brother,” Percy said. “You should stand with me. After all, the captain can engage Mister Hart as his second, or even as his first, I suppose, but who shall I have to stand for me if not you Brother?”
“Ah, but fighting a ghost can be a dire thing,” Samuel said. “Look how badly it went for Hamlet.”
The men continued laughing and poking fun until Captain Jack was ready to take a swing at Samuel, but Godwin, the least drunk of the group, came to his rescue diffusing the situation.
“You must write to her again,” Godwin urged. “If you love her, you must never give up.”
“What would I say?”
“Say that you beg her forgiveness,” Godwin urged. “If she loves you, she will have you. You must win the lady’s love with truth and sincerity not with guile.”
“But you know the war,” Captain Jack said. “I was confined to my ship. What could I do? Now, it has been weeks. I have not called upon her. I have not even written to her in my own name. She is beautiful. She must have already has moved on to other suitors, no doubt as any young woman of quality would have done. What was to hold her to my love? I gave her no token. I am a fool”
Godwin urged Captain Jack to let his lady know his love for her endured.
“Yes,” agreed Percy.
Samuel got up to find pen and paper for his friend.
“What shall I write?” the captain asked.
“You have to ignite the hope in her heart,” Samuel suggested as he sat the ink and paper carefully in front of the captain.
“You must be yourself,” Percy urged.
“Myself,” Captain Jack repeated as he attempted to get the ink bottle open.
“You have to tell her the truth,” Godwin said. “But in person. Ask first to call upon her. Then, when you arrive, tell her that you were ashamed you had no costume, and that you told a tale for her amusement, and when she laughed, you embellished the tale just to hear the sound of her laughter, but when she said she would only love a poor man, you knew you could not be true, lest you lose her entirely.”
“Right,” Captain Jack said, still struggling to open the ink. “Truth.”
Godwin took the ink bottle from him and opened it. “Yes. Truth,” he directed. “Now, by this correspondence, tell her only you are in port and you wish to call upon her. Tell her the truth of the matter in person.”
It had been Godwin’s experience that good news never arrived via letter. It was better to speak in person. Had Miss Bellevue considered her engagement to him good news, he wondered. He did not think so. He would have to find some way to remedy that.
~.~
As his former shipmates aided Captain Jack with the letter writing, the door opened and Godwin’s brother Cedric entered. Godwin would have confronted him immediately, but Cedric was already quite drunk and would not remember it. Godwin wanted Cedric to remember what he said to him. Cedric stumbled past without seeing him and settled at a table with some other card players.
Captain Jack, with a multitude of helpers, worked on his correspondence to Miss Grant, as Godwin thought of his own Miss Bellevue. How was he going to convince her of his sincerity? He thought of the walk home with her earlier tonight. He liked the feel of her standing beside him. Even when she was not at her best, she was as regal as a queen. He would have very much liked to have carried her up the front stair to her home, but she was proud, and he would have her no other way. She was such a fierce thing when she had smacked his brother. The thought brought a smile to his lips and he glanced over at Cedric.
The group at the table where his brother sat was becoming quite loud. Godwin then saw that Cedric had placed a shiny bauble on the table, and the others were not willing to allow the bet. Godwin recognized the item as the silver comb from Miss Bellevue’s hair, reminding him of the appalling behavior that warranted his brother a slap and more besides.
“Bloody Arse,” Godwin hissed as he stood and went to the opposite table where Cedric was playing. He swept the comb into his hand and said, “I will cover my brother’s bets.”
Godwin thought about taking his brother to task for betting the comb, but he decided against it. Cedric was deep in his cups and Godwin had been drinking too. No good would come of chastising him now. Tomorrow he probably would not remember the comb at all, and that would be for the best.
Cedric complained briefly that Godwin had taken the comb and that he could cover his own bets, but in a few minutes he was back to playing, the comb forgotten. Godwin went back to his own table for paper and ink to write a note himself and ended up penning a brief message to Miss Bellevue. He wrapped the comb in the message and sealed it. He paid a messenger to take it to her house before nine o’clock, and in a short time, the captain managed to get his own message written and sent to Miss Grant.
Godwin bid the gentlemen good night and glanced at Cedric who looked like he had no intention of going back to the hotel at all tonight. Godwin tightened his jaw. He was incensed at his brother, but words with him would have to wait. At least his brother was safely at the card table rather than with another woman.
Godwin headed out into the cool night air. It did not cool his wrath, but it would clear his head. Godwin decided he would not think of Cedric any more tonight. He would only think of Miss Bellevue. That brought a smile to his lips.
~.~
The Baron in Bath
~Part 3 ~
The Baron at the Ball
Chapter One
Miss Julia Bellevue would not contemplate of the events of last night. She would not think of the incident with Cedric Gruger at the Pratt picnic nor her walk home with Lord Fawkland. She knew she had to go to the Grand Pump Room this morning. Julia hoped that the healing waters there would cure her wantonness, but nothing would stop the gossip. She knew that. She did not want to go out at all. If she could, Julia would have crawled back into bed and stayed there, but she could not. She had to face the rumors. She had to face Mister Gruger and Lord Fawkland. She could only hope that she would not make another misstep. She could not afford to.
It was still early when a maid came to the door of Julia’s room with a small package for her.
“A messenger brought this for you, Miss,” she said with a curtsey.
Julia could not imagine what it might be. She took the package and turned it over in her hands. Who could be sending her gifts? It was too small to be anything but jewelry. Was Lord Fawkland sending her jewelry? Or Cedric? What did that mean after the picnic? Julia held the
package for a long minute. Though he had not asked her, she was still Lord Fawkland’s betrothed; only he could send her jewelry. It would be improper for her to accept such a gift from Cedric, but everything Cedric did yesterday was improper. Filled with apprehension, she tore open the package.
Inside was her sister Jane’s comb, the one Cedric had taken from her hair at the Pratt picnic, and a brief note penned in a rolling hand.
Please accept my most humble apologies.
There was no name on the note. At least she wouldn’t have to explain what happened to the comb to Jane. Should she accept Cedric’s apology?
“Is there an answer, Miss?” The maid asked.
What could she say to Cedric?
“No,” Julia said flatly and the maid left.
Mister Cedric Gruger had been her friend as a child, but what was he now? If she married Lord Fawkland, he would be her brother…or was he something more now? The thought sent waves of apprehension through her. She was still betrothed to his brother. Did she want to be betrothed to his brother? Last evening, Cedric had not asked for her hand in marriage; he had only…what? She shivered thinking of his hands on her; his lips kissing her. What exactly did Cedric want from her? Did he want to marry her in his brother’s stead? She studied the note. The hand was strong and sure and she traced the letters with her finger.
“Julia?”
Julia hid the note under her pillow, just as her sister, Jane came to her door. “Are you nearly ready to go?” Jane asked. “We have a busy day ahead of us if we want to get to the Grand Pump Room and then to the ball tonight.”
“Yes, of course.” Julia said, holding out the hair comb. “I just didn’t want to forget to give this back to you.”
“Oh bother,” Jane said passing the comb to her own maid who had brought her gloves and reticule. “You needn’t have worried. Whatever I have is yours. You know that.” She clutched Julia’s hand and smiled at her. “It is going to be a wonderful day. I know it.”
“Yes,” Julia replied trying to smile back. She was glad her sister did not realize she had lost the comb last night, nor the circumstances of that loss. She would have the morning to collect herself and decide her feelings about the Gruger men.
“Come along,” Jane said, pulling on her gloves, and Julia hurried to accompany her sister.
~.~
Godwin Gruger, The Baron of Fawkland went by Cedric’s rooms the next morning, but apparently his brother had spent the night elsewhere, or Cedric’s man was lying to him when he said that his brother was not in. Still nothing could blunt his good mood. Godwin was engaged to the most fascinating woman in Bath. The thought brought a spark of excitement for the day. No doubt wherever Cedric was, as drunk as he had been last night, he would still be abed. Godwin hoped he could dispel any rumors which had appeared this morning. He had a keen desire to protect Miss Bellevue from them.
As he walked Godwin remembered when he first taken note of the girl who was now his fiancée. Before he left for the Royal Navy he had known her only as a child, but he was only a child himself then. He remembered when he had first perceived Miss Bellevue as a young lady. It was, after his father’s death. Godwin had been distraught, not so much because he was close with his father, but because he was aware of the responsibility being thrust upon him. He was also aware of his shortcomings and his youth. He wondered how he was to become The Baron of Fawkland in more than name only.
Godwin had seen Miss Bellevue again on the day he returned home from the Royal Navy. He had been engaged as a midshipman prior to becoming a lieutenant, only he never got the chance to advance. Godwin’s career was cut short when his father had died. He had just turned seventeen. Only seventeen when he became The Baron of Fawkland with all the responsibilities that entailed.
Miss Julia Bellevue had been the only bright spot that day, he remembered. She had inspired him to be better. Godwin had been so off balance with the weight of new responsibility but Miss Bellevue had been so poised. Even though she was but a child of twelve or so, she seemed at near six years his junior, so grown up. If she could act so, as a girl on the crest of womanhood, he could do no less.
Godwin had received the news of his father’s death via a letter from his mother. He was busy when the Quartermaster had given it to him, so he stuck it in his coat to read later. That evening by the light of a lantern he read the somewhat crumpled letter. The lines on the correspondence had been so crossed and re-crossed that it took him some time to realize his mother was speaking of his father’s demise. Godwin re-read the passage twice to be sure he had not misunderstood. The man he knew as his father was always so strong, constantly busy, never a day sick in his life. It did not seem possible that the man was dead. Godwin learned from his mother’s letter that his father had some sudden chest pain after breakfast, but refused to rest. He blamed it on bad eggs and went into his study. His mother had found his father dead at his desk late that afternoon when he did not come down for tea.
Godwin loved his father as much as any child would, but the elder Baron had never been much of a family man. He would have shipped both of his sons off to the King’s Service post haste if his wife had not released a flood of tears for Godwin’s younger brother, Cedric. Their mother had lost both an infant son and a daughter between Godwin and Cedric and his father had fallen victim to her tears. He agreed to keep a tutor and wait until young Cedric was older to send him away.
Godwin, however, was charged to go. After all, he was the elder brother. It was worthwhile for him to learn to lead men. One day he would be a baron. The days were long gone when a baron or even a baronet held a force of arms for the King, but the tradition still held, at least in his father’s mind. His father…
Godwin read the correspondence from his mother again with misgivings rather than grief. He was not sure exactly what his mother expected of him, so like a good young officer he went to his Captain with the letter. The Captain read the letter stoically and told young Godwin, “I will grant you a furlough immediately.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” He replied stiffly.
Only his training kept him from arguing with his commanding officer. The war with Napoleon was just heating up. He had wanted to do his part for King and country. His place was here, with the men: Samuel Beresford and Jack Hartfield. He had eaten with them; fought with them; joked with them, and learned with them. He had thought to fight old Boney with them and put the little Frenchman back where he belonged. Godwin had thought to advance at least to Lieutenant and protect England. Instead he was going home. It had been a letdown. It felt like the height of cowardice, but he would follow his captain’s last order.
As the newly made Baron of Fawkland he had to give up his friends, and his career; although, truth be told, his service in the Royal Navy was never anything but a stop gap on his way to inheriting the barony. Godwin just never expected the title to be placed on his shoulders at the dear age of seventeen. But it had been.
He had gone home to England then in quite the rush. He had sailed on the first transport, and during a brief stop in London where he spoke to his father’s man, Mister Marks, he was disappointed to discover that his father’s affairs were not in the order he had hoped.
“It was all so sudden,” Mister Marks said. “I am sure your father never meant to leave you this burden. He thought to live for a long time yet; to see you settled and hold his grandchildren on his knee.”
Godwin was uncertain what to say to that. He certainly hadn’t been ready for settling down or children just then. Though, he also hadn’t been ready to be a baron. Instead of commenting, Godwin took his leave, but before he could get out the door, his father’s man reminded him that the uniform that he still wore was no longer appropriate. He gave the young baron the name of his father’s tailor. It was in somewhat of a daze that Godwin contacted that tailor to inform him of the need for suitable garments for a gentleman in mourning. He collected the garments on his return home, but he did not put them on right away. T
hey felt so foreign. As long as he was in uniform, he felt in control, but eventually he had to let go of the safety line. He was a Gruger, and now The Baron of Fawkland.
He dressed in the black clothes and pulled on his new black gloves. He stared at himself in the glass. He did not look like himself. The stark black seemed to leach the color from his face. It was only then, that it hit him that his father was really dead. Everything now rested on his shoulders: the entire running of the estate, the welfare of his mother, his younger brother. There must be a myriad of other matters to attend to, but he was uncertain what to do first. He spoke to Mister Marks again and attempted to make a somewhat dubious plan for the running of the estate.
One of the letters of condolence struck him. It was from Mister Bellevue, a landowner who lived nearby. He remembered Mister Bellevue was his father’s best friend, and the words written there seemed honest. Mister Bellevue offered his help and advice saying that he would be honored to give any aid he could to his best friend’s heir. He asked to call upon the young Baron of Fawkland, and Godwin’s heart swelled with both pride and apprehension.
When he arrived home it was obvious from his mother’s letter that she would be closeted in her rooms crying. He had no idea how to comfort her, so he left her to her female acquaintances. Her lady’s maid periodically asked him to visit her and he did so. A man took up his obligations without protest; even at his young age, he did not complain. His brother though…Godwin had hoped that Cedric would have grown up a bit while he was at sea. No, instead of being a help, his brother was a hindrance.
Their mother was the only person that was ever able to talk any sense into Cedric and she was not at her best. After Father’s death there was no one to take Cedric to hand: Certainly not the servants who feared him and not Godwin, who as Cedric frequently reminded him, was not their father. Mister Bellevue offered some advice on directing Cedric’s energies into more acceptable directions, but as Cedric got older, there was no reining him in.
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