“But she is at Farland Meadows?” he pressed. “And safe?”
“Your friend took as much care with her as one would his own sister. He would not have let any harm come to her.”
Lucas lowered himself onto a chair in the small front sitting room. He felt relieved and, yet, no less heavyhearted. He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing at his temples and forehead.
“I don’t know what happened, Father. We were doing better.”
Father sat next to him. “‘Doing better’? Were things so bad between you?”
“We’ve been married a matter of months, and she has already left me,” Lucas said. “That seems a very direct answer to your question.”
“You two have been friends all your lives.” Father had made that argument the day he’d debated with Lucas about the merits of the planned marriage. It hadn’t been convincing then, either.
“That’s not enough, Father. Everything is broken between us, and I don’t even understand why.”
“I do,” Digby answered from the doorway.
Lucas jumped to his feet. “Julia is well? You saw her all the way to Farland Meadows?”
“Of course I did. And I made certain her father was welcoming and treating her kindly before leaving.” Digby set a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “I did try several times to convince her to return to Brier Hill. She wouldn’t even consider it.”
“Her note said she didn’t think she was important to me. Did she say anything about why she would believe something so—so—”
“Believable?” Digby said. “You said during our return trip from Falstone Castle that you don’t allow less-important things to get in the way of your priorities. You spoke of traveling with more enthusiasm than you ever did of staying.”
Father made a sound of heavy-hearted realization. “And poor Julia has a lifetime of reasons to expect to be abandoned.”
“I won’t be abandoning her,” Lucas insisted.
“How long are you likely to be gone?” Father asked.
“Three months, probably.” Lucas tapped his fingers against the mantel shelf. “She knows I like to travel. You know I like to travel, and when I rightly told you that was one of many significant differences between Julia and I, you didn’t think it concerning enough to even hesitate with this match.”
Digby moved to stand near him. “What other arguments did you make?”
An odd question. “Several.”
His friend looked to Father. “What other reasons did he give?”
“Julia’s tendency toward being a hermit. Her lack of suitors compared with how desirable a catch Society considers him. That her dearth of experiences and connections would be something of a weight.”
Lucas winced to hear his arguments listed that way. He’d been desperate.
Father continued. “That her future titles and lands could be used as leverage to obtain another suitor. That we, and he specifically, would gain nothing by marrying her.”
“My dear chap.” Digby slapped a hand on his shoulder. “You are quite thoroughly sunk.”
“Sunk?”
“She told me during the carriage ride here that she overheard you telling your father all the reasons why you ought not be made to marry her.” Digby’s eyes darted to Father, then back to him. “I had assumed your arguments were centered on things like ‘We’ve not been given the opportunity to forge a relationship now that we are both grown’ or ‘Marriages are more likely to be happy if both individuals are in favor of the marriage.’ I hadn’t realized your reasons were insults.”
“I didn’t mean—” Merciful heavens. “I was only hoping to undo the mess our parents—I don’t actually think—They were exaggerations.”
Digby shook his head. “There was enough truth in your arguments for her to embrace them fully. The Gents are going to murder you for this, you know. Not only is she Our Julia, but she is—”
“Stanley’s sister,” Lucas finished for him. “He would be furious with me.”
Father spoke from his place on the nearby sofa. “Is that truly all she is to you: Stanley’s sister?”
Digby snorted in disagreement as he crossed to a nearby chair and sat elegantly. “Lord Lampton, your son is in love with his wife. Anyone who has spent any amount of time with them the past weeks could tell you that with certainty.”
Lucas was almost afraid to ask. “And Julia?”
“She came here to be forgotten, Lucas,” Digby said. “Give her enough time and she’ll disappear. Her heart will be tucked away somewhere safe and utterly unreachable.”
Father added his voice. “From all Farland said, I’d wager she’s nearly there already. She slipped far from reach during the years you were gone, son. I have no doubt she’ll do it again, permanently this time.”
Lucas stood fully straight. The thought of Julia’s vibrancy disappearing so completely, so permanently, gave him the push he needed. “I can’t let that happen.”
“Just what are you going to do?” Digby asked.
“Whatever I have to do to reach her.” Lucas stood solidly, jaw set, shoulders back, and repeated the words he’d heard his father say many times before: “I’m a Jonquil. Jonquils save people.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lucas stood in front of Lord Farland for the tenth time in five days.
“She still has not emerged,” Lord Farland said. “I’m beginning to doubt she will any time soon.”
When something is important enough, one does what must be done.
“Please,” Lucas said. “I have to see her. I need to at least try to talk with her.”
“I cannot force her to leave her room.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” He held his hands up in a show of supplication. “Could you not knock at her door? Ask if I could speak with her, even for only a moment?”
Lord Farland didn’t immediately agree, but neither did he refuse.
“Can you please ask her? If she’ll see me, even for a moment, I might be able to begin fixing this.”
“We’ve dealt her a felling blow.” Heaviness pulled at every feature of Lord Farland’s weary face. “I hadn’t realized the full impact of it until I saw her standing in my book room a week ago. I thought I was doing what was best for her by insisting she accept the betrothal I’d arranged. But it’s broken her, Lucas. Even in her quietest moments the past years, her eyes have still been lively and sharp, her expression hopeful, if a little guarded. All of that is gone now. We’ve broken her.”
“I won’t give up on my Julia. I will come back here every day for the rest of my life if need be. I will tell her through her closed door how much she means to me, how much I miss her. Even if she never opens that door, I will still be there.”
A fleeting smile tugged at his father-in-law’s mouth. “I can ask her if she’ll let you talk with her.”
“Thank you.”
But when they reached Julia’s bedchamber door, she didn’t answer her father’s knock.
“Julia?” Lord Farland called out gently but firmly. “You have a visitor.”
Only silence.
“Could she have slipped out?” Lucas asked.
Lord Farland shook his head. “She hasn’t left her room even once since returning. I cannot imagine she would do so now.” He pushed out a breath, then fished something from his pocket. A key. “If she won’t see you, you have to honor that.”
Lucas nodded. “Of course.”
Lord Farland unlocked Julia’s door and quickly surveyed the inside. “Julia?” He laughed lightly and looked back at Lucas. “She’s asleep.”
At least she hadn’t been ignoring him. This time. “May I leave something on her bedside table? I promise not to wake her.”
With a nod, Lord Farland motioned him inside. “Close the door on your way out.”
“I w
ill.” He closed it on his way in as well. Julia clearly valued her privacy; he didn’t mean to impose upon it even more than he was.
He pulled from his jacket pocket the book he’d brought from Brier Hill, the one he’d read to her now and then as she’d fallen asleep. She’d left it behind. Her bedside table here was empty except for the miniature of her and Charlotte when they were tiny. Lucas set the book down.
His heart ached as he turned slowly to look at her. How had he managed to make such a mull of everything? He’d told himself if she just smiled and laughed enough, if he found ways to bring happiness into their home, all would be well. Until she’d left, he’d not realized she needed—he needed—so much more than that.
She clearly hadn’t felt how deeply he loved her, more even than he’d imagined he would love his wife. But he did. He loved her, and he feared he’d well and truly lost her.
She was curled in a loose ball atop her blankets, wearing the same flowing white dress she’d worn the day he and Kes had stumbled upon her in the Brier Hill book room. She’d been so flustered, convinced she looked a fright. He’d been hard-pressed not to grin. She’d been utterly adorable.
Lucas fetched a throw and laid it over her. She stirred a little but didn’t wake.
He sat on the bed beside her. “My sweet Julia.” He gently brushed a tendril of hair from her beloved face. “I miss you.”
She took a quick, quivering breath, precisely the sort one pulled in when startling awake. But her eyes remained closed.
“I do love you, Julia. I’ve loved you all my life.”
Her eyelids fluttered a bit open. He held his breath.
“Lucas,” she said softly, no hint of unhappiness in her voice.
“Good morning, my love.” He bent over her hand and kissed it. “You’ve fallen back asleep.”
Her heavy lids closed once more. “I’ve been so tired.”
“You’re not ill, are you?”
“I don’t think so.” Her voice was weak but not worryingly so. “I suspect Digby is simply exhausting. I’m still recovering from two days of his exclusive company.”
Lucas could smile at that. He likewise celebrated the fact that she wasn’t tossing him out. Either she wasn’t entirely awake, or she didn’t hate him as much as he feared.
“I hadn’t intended to wake you, sweetheart. I only paused to fetch a blanket so you wouldn’t grow cold.”
With her eyes still closed, she said, “I was cold.” Her words were emerging more slowly. She was drifting back to sleep.
“I’ll leave you in peace, Julia.”
“You’re leaving?”
His heart cracked to hear her ask him that yet again. Would they ever reach a point where she didn’t live in constant fear of him abandoning her? “Do you want me to stay with you?”
“I want you to want to stay with me,” she whispered.
He took her hand in his and lay down beside her, adjusting her blanket so her shoulders were covered. “I want that more than I even realized.”
***
Julia awoke in the afternoon fully expecting to see Lucas beside her, though she couldn’t account for her conviction on that score. She was alone in her room, just as she’d been for more than a week. Even knowing her hope at seeing him was an empty one, her heart dropped at not finding him at her side.
She pulled herself from bed, then crossed to her window. Through a gap in the curtains, she looked out at the distant trees she knew hid the Trent from view. How many afternoons just like this one had she spent there, with him, joyful and filled with hope?
Father had been kind to her since her return. He’d not demanded she leave her room or go to Lampton Park to reconcile with Lucas. He had told her that Digby had left for his estate and that Lucas was now at Lampton Park. Father hadn’t pressed her on the matter of her estranged marriage.
She’d permitted herself more than a week of isolation. It was time she faced her grief and found a means of living again.
Her afternoon meal arrived on a tray just as her former lady’s maid stepped into the room to dress her and see to her coiffure.
“I would like to attend evensong tonight,” Julia told her. “But I do not want my hair powdered.”
Jane dipped her head. “Yes, my lady.”
There was no argument, no pressure to conform to her father’s preferred fashions. Julia began to breathe more easily. She had returned to Farland Meadows resolved to live as her father’s overlooked daughter. Her reception was proving better than that.
She joined her father a few minutes before he meant to depart for the chapel.
“Julia.” He held his hands out to her.
She crossed to him and lost herself a moment in his reassuring embrace. “Would you mind terribly if I went with you to evensong tonight?”
“I would be honored to have you with me, my girl. And Lady Lampton will be a featured singer this evening. We will both enjoy that.”
Lady Lampton sang with the voice of an angel. “I will enjoy that immensely.”
Her nervousness upon entering the chapel, however, threatened to undermine her enjoyment. That upendedness only increased as Father led her to the Jonquil family pew instead of their own. He and Lord Lampton managed to shuffle their positions until she was the one sitting beside Lucas. She couldn’t object without causing a scene.
She braced herself against the inevitable insistence that she return to Brier Hill or complaints about the inconvenience she had caused. But Lucas didn’t say a word. He simply smiled, then set a sprig of blue flowers on her lap before turning his attention to the choir.
She sat all but frozen as the music began. Her heart tugged in so many directions at once. The part of her that loved him—that no doubt always would—latched on to his offering: forget-me-nots. Surely there was some significance in that choice of flower. But the wiser part of her knew she hadn’t yet the strength to endure more heartache, and she told herself not to hope for too much.
She needed to guard herself until she was safe again.
As the evening wore on, much of her anxiety faded, however temporarily. The music was soothing, and Lucas’s quiet companionship set her mind a little at ease. He didn’t mean to press her on the matter of their estranged connection. He meant to give her an evening of music and peace.
After several pieces, Lucas leaned closer to her and whispered, “This next offering is Mother’s.”
“What will she be singing?” Julia asked, equally as quiet.
“‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.’”
A smile spread across her face. “We are fortunate the Gents aren’t here. They would likely think the song was about them.”
Lucas only just managed to hold back what appeared to be a burst of laughter. To his father’s look of censure, he said, “It’s Julia’s fault.”
“Traitor,” she silently mouthed.
Lucas returned his gaze to the front of the chapel. He continued to smile, and her own traitorous heart responded with warmth and hope . . . and hurt. The same desperate and hesitant longing that had filled her upon waking that afternoon returned with great force. She missed the Lucas who had been so tender and thoughtful and affectionate. Laughing together, jesting and smiling, did wonders for her heart, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be his partner, not just his friend. She needed to know she could trust him. That he would keep his word.
Lady Lampton’s voice singing one of Julia’s favorite hymns of Christmas softened something inside. Her ache didn’t truly ease. She still hurt, still stood on a precipice of uncertainty. But the carol whispered of peace. “Rest ye merry,” it instructed.
Rest ye.
Somehow, she would find a means of laying down her burdens and allowing her heart to rest.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Julia walked to the Collingham churchyard the nex
t morning to visit her many loved ones laid to rest there. Watching the affection with which Lucas had listened to his mother the night before had stirred a longing in her heart for her own mother, but she could visit her mother only in the graveyard.
She set her gloved hand atop Mother’s gravestone. “I wish you were here. You could help me make sense of all this.”
Father never seemed to know what to say. And despite his tender welcome home, Julia couldn’t bring herself to fully confide in him. He’d deserted her in her most desperate hour. She could not lay bare her vulnerabilities again.
“Mother, I feel so alone. I don’t know what to do.”
Her gaze wandered to Stanley’s grave not far distant. Her beloved brother would have looked out for her, helped her sort out this mess.
And sweet, beloved Charlotte. Her sister. Half of her. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of her twin. Life had dealt too many blows and seemed poised to deliver more.
A small handful of flowers lay in front of Charlotte’s gravestone. Forget-me-nots, like those Lucas had given her inside the chapel the night before. These were still fresh.
Julia turned to look in the direction of the Jonquils’ corner of the churchyard. Heaven help her, she felt a flutter of anticipation at the possibility of Lucas being there.
He wasn’t.
Disappointment washed over her.
“My traitorous heart,” she whispered.
In the very next moment, Lucas stepped out of the doors of the church and paused to put his hat on.
Julia looked away, telling herself to be wise. Her heart refused to be entirely so. She looked up once more to see him walking toward her.
He came and stood at her side, glancing at Charlotte’s grave. “There is both sorrow and comfort in these visits, isn’t there?”
“You brought Charlotte flowers.”
“I bring her flowers every time I’m here,” he said.
“Losing her felt like losing half of myself. It still does.” The pain was less acute than it had been but was no less real. “I haven’t felt entirely whole since she died.”
Forget Me Not (The Gents Book #1) Page 24
