Lord Farland stood nearby, watching his daughter with a painful combination of regret and determination. It was the same expression he’d worn the night Lucas had finally conceded defeat in the matter of these arrangements, the night he had fought for every concession he could make for Julia in their marriage settlements.
“Safe travels, Julia,” her father said, hesitancy underneath his perfectly civil words.
She offered a stiff, abbreviated curtsy, not pulling free of Lucas’s arm.
“Would you like a moment’s privacy to offer your father a farewell?” he asked.
“My father bid me farewell a week ago,” she answered.
No matter her appearance of indifference, the pain beneath her calm façade was unmistakable. Lucas hadn’t the first idea what to say. She was hurting, his dear friend, his childhood playmate, Stanley’s beloved sister. She was miserable, and Lucas could do nothing to alleviate that.
He handed her up into the carriage before turning back to face his parents. His smile was likely a little strained.
Father shook his hand. “Proud of you, son. I know this wasn’t an easy thing, but it’ll be for the best. I’m sure of it.”
Mother pulled him into an embrace. “Be patient with her, Lucas.”
“Of course,” he said.
“And come back and visit now and then. A year away was far too long.”
He held his mother for a drawn-out moment. He had missed her fiercely while on the Continent. He would miss her again while he was at Brier Hill.
“Now”—Mother stepped back, blinking suspiciously—“off with you. No more of these emotional displays.”
He grinned, knowing perfectly well hers was the display she was objecting to. Lucas folded himself through the carriage door—a feat when one was noticeably taller than the average Englishman—and sat on the rear-facing seat directly across from his wife. His wife. Would that ever stop being a surprising turn of phrase? The footman closed the door. A moment later, the carriage lurched forward.
Julia kept stoically still. She didn’t look back at her father as they pulled away from Lampton Park. Neither did she turn in the direction of her lifelong home as they passed it. She also didn’t so much as glance at Lucas.
Was this anger? Fear? Sadness? While he couldn’t confidently assign an emotion to her stiff detachment, he knew one thing for certain: he would go mad if forced to spend the entirety of their journey to Brier Hill like this.
“Have you ever been to Cumberland?” he asked.
“I have not.”
Here was a topic they could pursue without fear of pitfalls. “It is gorgeous. Lakes and tall mountains. I have traveled across the width and breadth of it these past eight years and have yet to see any corner that isn’t breathtaking. And it borders on Northumberland, which is beautiful as well.
“Have you traveled up into Scotland?” she asked.
“Many times.” Yes, this was proving a good topic to introduce. “A few of those trips have included the Highlands, even the Hebrides. Amazing.”
He couldn’t tell what her precise thoughts were on that observation, but she didn’t abandon the conversation. That was encouraging. “Did you travel to the coast?”
He nodded. “The Cumberland coast to the west. I even crossed Northumberland and Yorkshire to see the coast on the east as well. And a schoolmate of mine lives in Cornwall, so I’ve made a jaunt or two to the south.”
“And you spent time in Europe,” she added.
He was warming quickly to this subject matter. “France. Belgium. Italy. Switzerland. I wanted to travel to the Nordic lands, but we ran short of time on this trip.”
“All of that traveling in eight years,” she said. “Yet I saw you only once and only because my brother was dead.”
Though she spoke softly, the thrust hit its mark. “I came back home a few times, but you were in Berkshire visiting your cousins.”
“Ah, Berkshire,” she said wistfully. “The ‘Nordic countries’ of England. So close, yet never quite making the schedule.”
He didn’t know whether to smile at the clever turnabout or groan in frustration. Sorting the difficulty between them might be harder than he’d told Kes it would be. Humor seemed his best approach. “Oh, sweeting”—he used the pet name he’d employed from the time she was little—“where we’re going hits far closer to that mark than Berkshire. Brier Hill sits in an isolated corner of a fairly isolated county. We’ve few neighbors, fewer visitors, and only a small number of diversions. By Christmastime, I fully expect you to be begging me to take myself off somewhere.”
“I would be willing to do that now, if you’d prefer.”
He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he spied the tiniest, most miniscule hint of a smile tug at her lips. If there was one thing Lucas couldn’t resist, it was making someone smile. “Nothing would delight me more,” he said.
She bit down her lips. Oh, she was fighting a smile, no doubt about that. He wouldn’t push his luck any further but tucked away the moment of triumph. Perhaps the situation was not as hopeless as he feared.
“For one who is always in pursuit of the next grand adventure,” she said, “you describe your home of eight years as a place that offers no excitement whatsoever.”
He tossed out a crooked smile. “Why do you think I travel so much?”
Her head tipped to the side. She was studying him. “I thought you traveled because you liked the adventure of it.”
“After James died, I promised myself I would live life to its fullest. So that’s what I’ve done. I’ve seen the kingdom and the world. I’ve climbed mountains, bathed in the Mediterranean, learned new languages, met vastly different and interesting people. That’s why I’ve traveled and why I’ll keep traveling. There’s a whole world out there, Julia. I don’t intend to miss any of it.”
Her gaze moved to the carriage window. “I had wondered. Your reasons make sense though.”
It was, perhaps, not the most personal of conversations, but at least they were speaking to each other. That had hardly happened since his return to England. “What of you, sweeting? What do you like to do?”
She pulled off her gloves as she answered. “I like to read and to study. I enjoy learning new things.” She set her gloves on the bench next to her. “You probably think that terribly dull.”
“I like to read,” he said. “And I enjoyed my time at Cambridge, learning and expanding my mind. In fact, I spend most of my winters at Brier Hill, and I’ve made certain the library—while smaller than the collections at Lampton Park and Farland Meadows—has books on every topic imaginable.”
“You have a lot of books?” Her interest had clearly been piqued. Her eyes even lit a little.
“You’ll have plenty to pore over,” he said. “And during the colder months, I’ll likely join you, assuming you don’t have any objections.”
“I don’t. But I suspect you’ll be ready to run, quite literally, out the door the moment the weather permits.”
“Perhaps by then you’ll be ready to as well. Run. Skip. Leap for joy at your escape.”
She shook her head. “I don’t skip, Lucas.”
“You used to.”
Julia rested her head and shoulder against the carriage wall, her eyes firmly affixed on the passing scenery. “I used to do a lot of things.”
Lucas leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You could do them again if you wanted. That is one of the joys of leaving your father’s home: he doesn’t get to tell you what to do anymore.”
“And I’m certain if you disapprove, you’ll tell him. So he’ll know anyway.”
An odd comment. “What do you mean?”
She still didn’t look at him. “Father made me a prisoner in the house these past two days. Someone whispered in his ear that his disobedient daughter intended to run away.”
<
br /> Oh dear.
“If I’d realized that conversation on our rock was actually being had with him through you, I would have held my tongue.”
“That was not the situation at all. I was worried. If you had made good on that threat, you would have been in very grave danger.”
Her eyes darted to him. “You used to talk to me.”
That was unfair. “And you used to talk to me.”
She didn’t say anything more. Her attention returned to the passing scenery.
His frustration grew as they sat not speaking, the miles passing. She’d shown no willingness to even try to make something of this marriage. The situation was difficult, yes. But he hadn’t caused it. He’d done all he could to fix it. He’d tried to change their parents’ minds. He’d pleaded. When that had failed, he’d insisted on every consideration he could in the marriage settlements, even convincing their fathers to specify that her future title would not ever be absorbed in the Lampton titles. He’d done all he could, yet all he seemed to get from her was bitterness.
A quivering breath broke the heavy silence. Lucas looked more closely at Julia. She was crying. It was not anger he saw in her face but misery.
His poor Julia. What a mess they were in.
Lucas moved from his side of the carriage and sat beside her. He placed a square of linen in her hand, then set his arm around her. Julia’s tears turned to sobs.
Married less than a day and his wife was weeping. Perhaps, while he’d been in the chapel that morning, he ought to have uttered a few desperate prayers. They needed every miracle the heavens could manage.
Chapter Eleven
The journey to Cumberland had taken nearly a week. It likely could have been accomplished faster, but Lucas had insisted they stop frequently for a bite to eat or a short reprieve from the confines of the carriage. He’d regularly inquired after her comfort but had also allowed her silence in which to read or doze or simply lose herself in her own thoughts. And each night of their journey he had, after knocking at her door, stepped in long enough to tell her when they would be resuming their travels the next morning before wishing her a good night’s sleep and slipping out again. He hadn’t said as much, but she suspected he knew she was upended and, during their first awkward week together, was granting her time and space in which to find her feet once more.
It was an unlooked-for but welcome kindness. His thoughtfulness allowed her to be more in control of her emotions and less likely to fall to pieces at any moment.
As the carriage rolled down the drive leading to her new home, she felt almost calm. Her mind was enough at ease to enjoy the beauty of the small but lovely estate. A well-scythed lawn stretched out beside the drive. A neatly trimmed hedgerow lined the other side. A few tall trees, their leaves edged in the colors of early autumn, broke the hedge now and then.
The house was small compared to the homes they’d grown up in, but it was picturesque. The stone exterior put one a bit in mind of a castle of old, with bay towers adorning the corners, softening the lines of the house.
“It’s a lovely old place, isn’t it?” Lucas spoke wistfully, his expression fond as he eyed the home that had been his for eight years.
“When was it built?” She hadn’t been able to determine that simply by looking.
“In my great-grandfather’s day,” he said.
So, perhaps one hundred years earlier. “I would have guessed the house was older than that.”
“I think that is one of the things I like most about Brier Hill,” he said. “Its secrets are not easily discovered.”
“The estate has a great many, does it?”
He nodded, his mouth turned up in a mischievous smile.
The carriage stopped. In no time at all, the door was opened and Julia was handed down. Lucas quickly followed. The staff, as was customary when the master of the house returned, lined up outside the front door.
“Welcome home, Lord Jonquil.” The older woman offering the greeting was likely the housekeeper.
He dipped his head. “Good to be home, Mrs. Parks. Julia, this is Mrs. Parks, housekeeper here at Brier Hill. Mrs. Parks, this is Lady Jonquil.”
The woman dipped a very appropriate curtsy, but she also eyed Julia sidelong as they slipped past. She was being assessed, there was no mistaking that. She set her shoulders and kept her chin high, all while maintaining an ever-so-slightly pleased expression: it was the mien she remembered her mother assuming when being looked at askance.
Julia followed Lucas through the entry hall, a small vestibule filled with light from the tall windows on either side of the front door. They passed doors to the left and right. Just beyond an archway sat a wooden staircase, the banister carved with flowers and polished to a shine. Looking about, she could see that the doorframes were carved in the same motif. It was, for lack of a better word, adorable. The space was small, yes, but light and airy. If the rest of the house followed the same pattern, she would be quite pleased indeed.
Mrs. Parks slipped past them and onto the first step of the staircase. “If you will follow me, my lady, I will show you to your room so you can rest from your journey.”
She grew ever more enamored of the wooden stairs as she climbed them. The carving continued all the way up to the top, where the banister swirled into a gathering of intricate wooden flowers. Beautiful.
“There are five bedchambers,” Mrs. Parks said. “The master’s and mistress’s are here.”
She led Julia through a nearby door. Beyond was a small antechamber with doors on opposite walls. A round table in the center simply ached for a vase of flowers. Did Brier Hill have a hothouse? The weather was cold enough already that flowers would likely be difficult to procure otherwise.
Mrs. Parks motioned to the door to the right. “This one is yours, Lady Jonquil.”
Lady Jonquil. She didn’t particularly care for that title, but she could hardly insist on being called Miss Cummings.
Julia tentatively approached the door, knowing that beyond lay the room that would be hers for quite possibly decades. What would it be like? Would it be cramped or drafty? Sparsely furnished or weighed down with gaudy and suffocating decorations?
She took a hesitant step inside. The walls were a stark white. No rugs adorned the dark wood floor. The drapes in the window were heavy. But the furniture was a good scale for the room, not overwhelming but not miniscule. All the necessary bits and pieces were there. The fireplace was a good size. The room would be warm in the winter.
Julia slipped over to one of the windows. The prospect was lovely: tall trees, a view of a small, formal garden, mountains in the distance. It was not her beloved Trent, but it would be a fine vista to wake up to.
“There’s room enough in the household budget for making some changes in here if you want,” Lucas said, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Parks had left while Julia was making her inspection. “Will you be miserable in here?”
His cautious tone pulled her gaze back to him once more. He looked worried.
“I will, I suspect, find any chamber other than the one I am accustomed to a bit uncomfortable at first,” she said. “But I would be fussy indeed if I couldn’t be content in this room.”
Her curiosity pulled her to a door she’d not yet opened. Fully expecting a dressing room, she was entirely surprised to find, instead, something of a sitting room or tiny study. She didn’t know how precisely to identify it.
The space was perfectly round. Windows and a set of french doors filled the exterior wall, affording a view of the back gardens. A fireplace sat cozily in the interior wall. An ornate medallion adorned the ceiling, a brass chandelier hanging from the center, six unlit candles sitting in place, awaiting the opportunity to light the space after sundown.
A generously proportioned wingback chair sat beside an end table, perfect for holding one’s sewing or—her heart fluttered a
bit—a mathematics text and notebook. A little sofa sat a bit apart from it, near enough the fire to be quite comfortable even in the cold of the approaching winter.
She pushed the french doors open and stepped out onto a bay-shaped balcony. Her breath caught at the beauty of the scene before her—the vast expanse of a valley, a town nestled there, and majestic mountains farther afield.
Julia turned back to look again at the small circular room. She loved it, adored it to the point of fighting back an unexpected surge of emotion. This room held something that had been eluding her for far too long . . . peace. “I could live here,” she whispered. “With this haven to retreat to, I could live here.”
She stepped back inside, then crossed to and through the door leading back to her bedchamber. In time, this space might feel less foreign. Of course, Lucas sitting on the bench at the end of her bed likely added to the oddity of it all. Not only had he been absent from her life for years, but she had also never had a gentleman other than her brother and father in her bedchamber.
“Brier Hill isn’t as fine an estate as Farland Meadows,” he said, “but I’ve discovered in the past years that it is grand in its own way. Not a terrible place to pass the winter.”
Julia took a breath, pushing out a bit of the tension clutching at her heart. She crossed to the bench and sat beside him. She rested her hands on her lap and looked up at him. They couldn’t change that this was their reality now, but she could attempt to make the best of it. “You have a lovely home, Lucas.”
He watched her with drawn brow. “It’s your home now as much as mine.”
She smiled a little. “Perhaps in time it will feel that way.”
“Do you like Brier Hill?”
She watched him a moment. “Does it matter so much what I think of it?”
He turned his gaze away, looking out over her room. “You were the most opinionated child who ever lived. When everyone else, out of habit, would tell me, ‘You’re doing well’ or ‘You’ll do better soon enough,’ you had no qualms saying, ‘Lucas, you’re a dunderhead,’ or alternately, ‘Lucas, you didn’t entirely muck everything up.’”
Forget Me Not (The Gents Book #1) Page 8
