“That might work with some ladies,” Kes acknowledged.
“But not Julia.” He knew that beyond a doubt. “Her loyalty is earned, not bought.”
“So earn it.”
“I’m not certain how.”
Julia shifted beside him, though she didn’t wake. He slumped lower so her head could rest on his shoulder instead of against his arm. That had to be more comfortable for her.
“What sort of things formed the foundation of your friendship when you were younger?” Kes asked, lowering his voice a little.
“We participated in the neighborhood games of chase and hide-and-seek. We climbed a great many trees. Picnics on the rock by the river, mostly involving food we nipped from the kitchens at our respective houses. A great many jokes involving inappropriate noises.”
The amusement on Kes’s face grew, though it never reached obvious levels. That had always been his way. “An odd approach to friendship now that you are both grown.”
That was certainly true. “I had once imagined enjoying a game of chase with my bride. That was, of course, when I still believed I’d be marrying for love.”
Kes made a sound of pondering. Few people were as naturally academic as he was, forever contemplating and analyzing and thinking. And yet, somehow, he wasn’t stuffy or unapproachable.
Julia coughed, pulling Lucas’s attention entirely to her. Was she growing ill? She didn’t look pale or flushed. Careful not to wake her, he brushed the back of his hand over her cheek, then her forehead. She didn’t feel feverish. Perhaps it was only a bit of dust.
“Have you thought to revisit your childhood adventures with more mature versions?” Kes said. “There would be the benefit of familiarity while also allowing for the laying of new groundwork to match your new circumstances.”
Lucas ran his fingers along Julia’s braid. How well he remembered the braids she’d once worn. Two of them, one on either side, and far redder then than they were now. The sight of those ginger plaits flying behind her as she ran to welcome him home at the end of each school term remained one of his favorite memories. She’d been so little, so much younger than he, yet she’d had such a profound impact on him. He couldn’t simply resign them to a life of discomfort and unhappiness. It wasn’t fair to either of them. “What is the grown-up equivalent of climbing trees?”
Kes arched an eyebrow. “Based on a significant number of days I spent with you in Europe, I would say climbing mountains.”
Climbing mountains. Excitement built inside on the instant. He did enjoy the exhilaration of mountaineering. But Julia, he would wager, had no experience with it.
“I don’t know that mountaineering is the answer.” He could hear the disappointment in his voice.
“Why not?” Kes pressed. “You don’t have to conquer the Alps. Undertake a meandering walk to one of the neighboring summits.” He hooked a thumb in the direction of the window. “And while you’re winding your way to the top, tell her about some of the mountains you’ve climbed. Share that enthusiasm with her. Remind her of the trees and such you used to climb as children.”
It wasn’t a terrible idea.
“Have a picnic,” Kes said, “like you used to. Challenge her to a game of hide-and-seek.”
“We have been playing one for days now. Except no one has been seeking.”
Still, he was pondering Kes’s suggestions. Even childhood games could be enjoyable if undertaken in the right spirit. Being silly for a day might actually be an excellent way of easing the strain between them. It wouldn’t fix everything, but at least they would have a temporary break from the difficulties they lived with now.
“You said things are amok between you,” Kes said. “Reclaim what you had when it wasn’t all a mess. Find a way to be friends again. It’s better than nothing.”
“Nothing being a good summary of what we have at the moment.” He spoke as much to himself as he did to his friend.
Kes nodded knowingly. “Simply let me know if your efforts will be benefited or hindered by my staying.”
“I think, at least for the moment, you being here will help. Julia will have to emerge from isolation if we have a guest.” It was difficult to form a bond with a person one never actually saw. “And you can spend a little time telling her very flattering things about me so she’ll warm up a bit.”
“I don’t lie, even for you,” Kes said.
Again, that dry, subtle humor. Far too many people missed it.
“Don’t hesitate to tell me if my presence stops being useful.” Kes rose. “I won’t be offended. And it’s not so far of a journey home that I can’t manage it with little warning.”
“For now, settle in while I get Julia back to her room to rest. Tonight, I can take up the ‘Make Julia My Friend Again’ campaign in earnest.”
It took a little doing, but Lucas managed to slip off the sofa just enough to turn and slide an arm under Julia’s bent legs. Her head slipped a little from his shoulder. He adjusted his arm to support her as he slid it behind her back.
She stirred.
“Arms about my neck, sweeting.”
She made no objection to his instructions, just complied, leaning against his chest. He stood with her in his arms, taking a moment to be sure of his balance. With his armful secured, he made his way from the book room.
“I hope you’ll be willing to give me a chance,” he whispered, “because I don’t know how to salvage this otherwise, and I can’t live like this the rest of my life.”
She didn’t answer; he hadn’t expected her to. Her deep, slow breaths spoke of sleep, an impression only solidified by her stillness.
He carried her down the corridor, through the antechamber, and into her bedroom. The blanket that had been about her shoulders in the book room had all but fallen off during their short trek. He laid her on the bed, then spread the blanket over her.
He turned to go, but his eyes wandered to the door that he knew opened into the balcony room. The closed door. Closed and locked. Because he’d given her the impression that she wasn’t welcome. Because he wasn’t certain she was.
There was so much standing between them. What if even friendship was too ambitious a goal?
***
For the first time since their arrival at Brier Hill, Lucas and Julia ate dinner together. Kes staying had proven as beneficial as Lucas had predicted. Julia wasn’t likely to take up hermitry while they had a guest.
She had dressed for the occasion, donning a gown of green. The color brought out the hint of red that remained in her hair. He liked it.
“Does your brother’s home sit far from here?” Julia asked. She was conversing far more easily with Kes than she did with him.
“In Norfolk,” Kes said.
“That is a considerable distance.” Julia gave him a look of empathy. “Do you see him often?”
“As often as I can. Whenever I make the journey to Town, I do so by way of the family seat.”
Her smile was one of approval. Lucas couldn’t remember the last time he’d been the recipient of that particular expression. She’d come close in the book room earlier that day.
We’ll be friends again, he silently vowed.
“And is your brother married?”
“He is.” Kes cut into the boiled potato on his plate. “And he has two children, a son and a daughter.”
“Your niece and nephew.” Julia’s face lit. “Are you a run-about-the-gardens-playing-games uncle or the sit-together-quietly-reading type?”
Kes laughed lightly, something he didn’t often do. “What do you think?”
“Reading a book,” she answered, her delight matching his.
How in heaven’s name was Kes bringing out her happier side when he, who had known her literally all her life, had managed a promise of nothing beyond contentment?
“You have taken my
measure, Lady Jonquil.” Kes speared a piece of potato. “Which sort of uncle would Lucas be?”
Sadness touched her eye. “He won’t be. We are both all that is left of our brothers and sisters.” Her voice dropped. “There won’t ever be any nieces or nephews.”
Lucas reached over, setting his hand atop hers. This was a grief he knew well; it was one they shared. Julia didn’t pull her hand free, but neither did she weave her fingers through his or acknowledge the gesture. Her hand was stiff beneath his. Was he making any progress at all?
Kes managed to salvage the topic. “Lucas has visited my family a few times. Can you guess which uncle he is to them?”
“I would wager he was both.”
Lucas squeezed her fingers. “You know me well.”
She slipped from his touch and took up her fork. “I did once.”
Before even a fraction of frustration could settle on Lucas’s mind, Kes made a subtle yet pointed nod in Julia’s direction. He twitched his eyebrows as well. Ah, yes. Time for the Make Julia My Friend Again campaign.
“Have you any plans tomorrow midday?” Lucas asked her.
“Only the usual ones: reading and needlepoint and whatever other diversions I can find at home.” She fancied quiet domesticity. He could enjoy it in limited quantities, especially if they could find happiness and contentment between the two of them.
“I was telling Kes about the picnics we all used to have, and I realized how long it’s been since I’ve indulged in one.” He tried to sound both casual and eager. “I want to have a picnic tomorrow.”
She sat a moment in silence. A look of pondering and uncertainty flitted across her features. “Am I invited?”
How could she think otherwise? “I’ve never had a picnic without you, Julia. I don’t mean to change that now.”
She watched him, a crease forming between her brows. “You never have told me which of the gardens I’m welcome in.”
Lud, he’d made a mull of this. “Any of them.”
“You said that about the rooms in the house, and that proved untrue.”
He pushed out a breath. “One room, Julia. I’m claiming one room for myself. That’s not unreasonable.”
“I didn’t say that it was, only that I don’t know which of the gardens you’ve claimed for yourself.”
This was not going according to plan. “I haven’t claimed any. Even if I had, if I’m inviting you to join me in a particular garden, then obviously you’re welcome in it.”
“May I make the same assumption?” Kes asked. “Or would you rather I not join you?”
Eagerness touched Julia’s expression. “Please, do come.”
She was far more anxious for Kes’s company than for his. That was decidedly discouraging. What was he to do if his efforts at reclaiming her friendship didn’t prove fruitful? Kes couldn’t live with them, but without him there, they’d simply go back to ignoring each other.
“Will you join us, Julia?” Lucas asked, trying not to sound desperate or pressuring. “I think it’ll be a lark.”
“Will we have to steal our food like we used to?” There was an encouraging bit of a jest in her question.
“If we must,” Lucas answered quite seriously.
The first twitch of a smile formed on her lips, though she held it back. “I think I would enjoy a picnic, but only because I’d like to see the gardens.”
“I’m flattered.”
Again, almost a smile. So close to one. Perhaps in his pursuit of reclaiming her friendship, he needed to give himself the goal of bringing a full, sincere smile to her face.
Chapter Fifteen
Julia was having second thoughts. Fourth and fifth thoughts, if she were being honest. Her childhood picnics had been magical. She’d lived for them during Lucas’s brief school holidays. They’d started by filching food from the kitchens, then had met at their rock. Inevitably, the afternoon’s excursion would lead to the lot of them chasing each other up and down the paths of either Farland Meadows or Lampton Park, climbing trees, or playing hide-and-seek. Sometimes they would fish in the river, though they seldom caught anything. Early on, the rock had been quite crowded. But their numbers had dwindled painfully over the years.
She needed this grown-up picnic to be as wonderful as those long-ago ones had been. Hope and optimism, peace of mind and heart had been too fleeting and out of reach for far too long. She needed it as desperately as she needed air.
“She is a weight.”
“This is my house.”
“I will gain nothing by marrying her.”
He’d once thought much more highly of her. He’d once been so thoughtful and kind. She saw glimpses of that now and then, but they were always tempered by frustration and the very real impression that he was enduring her presence rather than enjoying it.
What she wouldn’t give to return, even for a moment, to those happier days.
She heard footsteps in her bedchamber. She shot to her feet. If Lucas found her in here . . . but how was she to escape if he was coming from her room? She could slip out through his. Though, if she was unwelcome in this room, she would be expressly forbidden in his bedchamber. She rushed to the balcony doors, but the entirety of the balcony was visible through the glass.
Before she could take a single step in any direction, Mrs. Parks, not Lucas, appeared in the doorway. Julia’s inward sigh of relief was short-lived. The housekeeper was not overly fond of her. She’d never done anything unkind or dismissive, certainly not disrespectful, but there was a certain coldness there. Most of the staff were that way with her.
That the master of the house, the gentleman to whom they were loyal, had been forced to marry someone he’d not wanted to marry and that the lady who’d been foisted upon him was now their mistress likely explained the dismissal she felt. She hadn’t the first idea how to get past that; she didn’t know if she had the strength to keep fighting losing battles.
“Mrs. Parks.” Her voice shook a little. What a shabby mistress of the estate she was proving.
“Begging your pardon, Lady Jonquil. I’ve come to offer my assistance in dressing for your picnic.”
The housekeeper’s assistance. “I don’t wish to take you from your duties. I’m certain one of the maids could be spared.”
“It is no bother.”
It wasn’t possible for the inconvenience to be anything but a bother. Julia needed to procure a lady’s maid. Truth be told, she needed to do a lot of things. Perhaps it was time she pulled herself together, pushed her grief and frustration out of the way, and saw to her new responsibilities.
“I’d hoped for a moment to speak with you, m’lady, and this seemed a good opportunity for doing so.”
Julia attempted to look quite certain of herself. She walked with as much dignity as she could through the doorway into her bedchamber, her hair in its usual messy braid and her shoes yet to be donned for the day.
“Would you be so good as to close and lock that door?” Julia tried to ask the question without any of the panic she felt every time she considered the possibility of Lucas learning she had continued using his round room. He had never been prone to bursts of temper, but she did not want to endure another scolding nor have to see his face fill once more with annoyance.
Mrs. Parks obliged, then crossed to the wardrobe. “The weather is fine, but this time of year, the breeze can be a touch biting. Might I suggest your wool caraco jacket?”
That seemed a good choice.
“And as you will be out of doors, this darker cotton gown, with the bottommost petticoat in wool.” Mrs. Parks pulled out each item as she mentioned it. She turned to face Julia. “I believe you do not wear the wide panniers that have been fashionable for so long.”
“I do not.”
“Many of the young fashionable ladies do not,” Mrs. Parks acknowledged. “I also belie
ve you do not care to have your hair powdered.”
“I do not.”
Mrs. Parks dipped her head. “Very good, my lady.”
That was all? The housekeeper didn’t mean to insist she be traditionally fashionable or follow the edicts of . . . of whom? Lucas was the master of the house here, not her father, and he never had objected to her refusal to powder. Being Lucas’s resented wife had some advantages over being Father’s soon-to-be-spinster daughter.
As Mrs. Parks laid out each clothing item on the bed in the order it would be needed, Julia broke the silence. “Tomorrow, I would like to meet with you to go over the household accounts.” That had almost sounded like a mistress of an estate instead of a scared girl of twenty years who was entirely out of her depth.
“Of course, Lady Jonquil.” Mrs. Parks’s tone gave no clue as to her thoughts. Julia didn’t know Mrs. Parks well yet. That needed to change.
They went through the tasks of dressing, something every lady and one-time maid knew how to do without discussion. Her narrower, more modern panniers were tied into place over her tightly laced corset. The wool petticoat Mrs. Parks had selected proved softer than Julia remembered it being. Perhaps the housekeeper had a secret method of washing it. That was reason to be grateful.
Once Julia was laced into her modest but pleasant day dress, Mrs. Parks brushed through her hair, pinning it up in a simple but neat coiffure and smoothing the curls left to hang down. The moments stretched out with neither of them speaking. Though Jane had often sided with Father against Julia’s wishes, she found she did miss her former abigail in that moment. At least they were comfortable in each other’s company.
A quick knock on the door sounded the moment before Lucas poked his head inside. “Are you ready?” He sounded like the friend she once knew: eager excitement, boyish glee. She’d missed that side of him.
He stepped closer to them, addressing his next comment to his housekeeper. “I’ve nipped off with a great deal of food from the larder. Best not tell cook or she’ll have my neck.”
Mrs. Park’s expression was stern but just as unreadable as it had been during their quick, silent dressing. “That is a story woven from whole cloth, no doubt.”
Forget Me Not (The Gents Book #1) Page 11
