Judith found herself at a loss for words. Even then she might have fled, but she stood transfixed as she tried to resolve the chaos in her mind.
Dan stood in silence as he awaited her decision, and at last she gave him a look which was painful in its intensity.
“Perhaps you are right,” she whispered. “Then we shall lay old ghosts to rest…”
It had been an agonising choice. She had no wish to discuss the past, or have old wounds reopened, or to relive the pain of parting all those years ago, but she couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened.
Above all, she didn’t want to hear what Dan was so clearly about to tell her. He no longer loved her. She’d been deceiving herself to imagine that there was sometimes more than friendly affection in his manner. Now she was making him uncomfortable, behaving in such a missish way, blushing like a schoolgirl at his compliments, and babbling on about the proprieties like some dowager.
She must pull herself together. There was such a thing as civilised behaviour. Engagements were broken every day, but hearts did not break so easily. The world went on, and old lovers met again, but surely they could not suffer as she was suffering now.
And she had brought this suffering on herself. It would have been easier, so much easier, not to have agreed to meet him. She must have been mad. In two short weeks she would be married to another man. Now she was being fair to neither Dan nor her betrothed. Her behaviour was unworthy of any woman of character, and it must change.
Pale but resolute, she allowed Dan to lead her through the hall of the Wentworth mansion, and into the library.
He offered her a chair, and then he began to pace the room. She guessed that he was wondering how to begin.
“What did you wish to say to me?” she asked at last. The silence had become unbearable.
“So much that it would take a lifetime! Oh, my dear, I have no wish to distress you, but—”
“We haven’t got a lifetime,” she said dully. “In two weeks’ time I shall be wed.”
He came to her then and knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. “Look at me!” he begged. “I know that you aren’t happy. I haven’t seen you look like this since the day we parted all those years ago…”
Judith disengaged her hands and turned her head away.
“I’m tired, that is all. Brides have these attacks of nerves, or so I hear. It is the strain of all the preparations—” Dan silenced her with a finger on her lips.
“Dearest, this is Dan,” he reminded her. “I know your every look…your every gesture. Were we not once as close as a man and a woman could be?”
Judith took her courage in both hands. She must not allow him to suspect that the memory of their love had never faded. He must not know how much all remembrance of the past distressed her, or he would blame himself for her pain.
“We were very young,” she whispered. “When I look back it seems to me that we were little more than children.”
“You didn’t think so then.”
“I know, but it was all so long ago. In extreme youth one’s emotions are at their most intense. It wasn’t the time to make decisions for the future.”
“You made yours,” he said simply. “And it broke my heart. Oh, Judith, for years there was not a single day when I didn’t feel your hand in mine, or sense your presence near me, even at the far ends of the earth.”
“You knew my reasons…”
“I couldn’t accept them then.” Dan rose to his feet and resumed his pacing. “I tried to hate you for the way you sacrificed our love because of Mrs Aveton’s slanders. I thought we might have faced them.”
Judith was silent.
“Later I realised that I was wrong,” he continued. “I must have been made to think that I could win you. What could I have offered you? A lad without breeding or fortune?”
“You would have made your way,” she whispered.
“Through patronage, or as one of Sebastian’s dependents? I would not have had it so, and neither would you.”
Judith did not argue, though she longed to do so. She cared nothing about his birth or lack of fortune, but at nineteen she could not see his life destroyed by the actions of an evil woman.
“Then perhaps it was for the best,” she told him in a neutral tone. “Won’t you take me to Prudence?”
“Not yet. Bear with me for another moment. For the sake of our old friendship, I’ll ask you once again. Are you happy?”
Judith would not meet his eyes. “I am content,” she murmured.
He slipped a finger beneath her chin and raised her face to his. “Tell me the truth! Do you love this man as we once loved? If you do, I shall not say another word.”
Driven beyond endurance, Judith struck his hand away. “You have no right to ask!” she cried wildly.
“That’s true, but you have given me my answer. Oh, my dear, won’t you reconsider this betrothal before it is too late?”
“Stop!” She raised a hand to silence him. “You promised not to interfere. Why should I listen to you? What do you want of me?”
“Only your happiness, believe me. Give yourself time…”
“I can’t.” Judith rose to her feet. “I won’t cry off now.”
All hope had left her. She had given Dan his opportunity to tell her that he loved her still. He had not done so.
He’d changed more than she had at first suspected. The boy who once considered the world well lost for love had matured into a man who understood the values of the society in which he lived. Yet they were not his own. Dan would never seek the prize of a rich wife. He’d made it clear that he would make his way through his own efforts, or not at all.
She too had changed. At nineteen she would have scorned the notion of contentment as a basis for marriage. In those days love was all. She and Dan had shared something precious, something beyond a meeting of minds. In that halcyon time their passion had consumed them, giving their lives a radiance which she would never know again. In his every look and touch her world had been born anew.
“Oh, Dan!” It was a cry of despair. Unconsciously, she stretched out her hands to him.
If he’d taken her in his arms she would have offered him herself, her fortune and her love. Pride was a luxury which a woman in love could not afford.
He did not touch her. She did not know it, but he dared not or his resolve would have crumbled.
“Perhaps you are right,” he told her stiffly. “I shall not speak of it again.”
His situation was unchanged. All he could offer her was his love. He knew her tender heart. She might accept him out of pity, and that he could not bear. All he could do now was to protect her as best he could, putting her own happiness before his own.
“Prudence will be waiting,” he said quietly.
Judith’s hands fell to her sides. It had been a mistake to come here. Dan had asked only that she give herself time. Time for what? If she entered into another relationship, it would not bring her the happiness for which she longed. First love was an illusion, so she’d heard. It wasn’t so in her case. Dan was all she wanted. She would love him, and him alone, for the rest of her days.
The look on her face destroyed his hard-won composure.
“Forgive me!” he murmured. “I have upset you. You were right. It was a mistake to speak of the past. We can’t change it now…”
Judith was perilously close to tears. Perhaps they could not change the past, but they could change the future. She was about to tell him so, but his face was set, and she knew it would be useless to attempt to sway him.
Now she longed to be alone with her misery. To be so close to him was simply to prolong her torture, but there was Prudence to consider. She made a valiant effort to speak of something else.
“Have…have you heard from Admiral Nelson?” she asked.
“No!” he told her shortly. “I have long ceased to hope for miracles.”
“Or even ceased to hope?” Judith lost her temper then as frustration and unhappiness overwhelmed her. “You disappoint me, Dan! Why won’t you fight for what you want? Go to Merton! See the Admiral! What have you got to lose?” She rounded on him with eyes ablaze, only to find that he was smiling down at her.
“That’s better!” he said gently. “I see that you haven’t lost your spirit.”
“Have you?”
“Judith, as I told you, I’ve tried for years to promote my own designs—”
“Well, try again! Oh, if I were a man I should not be so easily discouraged…Promise me that you will visit Lord Nelson!” In her eagerness to persuade him Judith had come alive again.
“Peace!” he begged as he backed away in mock terror. “I promise to obey you. Indeed, as I value my life I can do no other.”
He was happy to see her smile, reluctant though it was. The years had dropped away, and now she was much more like the girl he’d known in his youth.
Unknown to Judith, he’d already made up his mind to go to Merton. The Great Man might refuse to see him, or worse, dismiss his ideas as totally impractical, but he had to try. The matter was urgent.
In suggesting that Judith give herself time to reconsider, he’d cherished the faint hope that if success should come his way at last, it might not be too late.
With the certain prospect of a career as a naval architect he would work until his reputation was second to none. Others had done it in different fields, with no better start than his. Sir Christopher Wren had rebuilt much of London, and so many of the churches were the work of Nicholas Hawksmoor. Inigo Jones had started his career apprenticed to a joiner, Dan thought in some amusement. It was a modest start for one whose genius as an architect was now well recognised.
If they could do it, so could he, but he needed time, and time was running out for him. He found himself praying that she would heed his words, and at least postpone her marriage.
Then, if all went well for him, he would woo her once again. Perhaps he was dreaming, but he could hope. There had been something in her manner when she’d flown out at him in fury which suggested that she still cared deeply what became of him.
Yet he must not raise her expectations, or his own. It would be too cruel. He took Judith’s hand and kissed it.
“Friends again?” he asked.
It was at this point that Sebastian entered the room. With his customary good manners he betrayed no surprise at finding Dan and Judith alone.
“Dan has persuaded you to visit us?” he said with a smile. “My dear, you are our saviour. Prudence will be delighted…”
He led the way across the hall, and up the massive staircase to his wife’s room. Prudence was lying on a day-bed, turning the pages of her book in a way which suggested that it did not hold her interest.
Beautifully groomed, as always, her glorious hair was caught high in a bandeau which matched her embroidered negligée of sea-green gauze.
“My dear, you look quite lovely!” Judith exclaimed. “How do you feel today?”
“Much like a barrel!” Prudence said with feeling. “I wonder if I shall ever see my toes again.”
“Nothing is more certain.” Sebastian bent and kissed his wife. “My love, you ladies will have much to say to each other. Shall you mind if I steal Dan away for a few moments?”
“Secrets?” Prudence gave him a quizzical look. “Are we to hear about them later?”
“All in good time, I promise.” He signalled to Dan, and walked swiftly from the room.
Prudence smiled at Judith. “I fear that I have a cruel husband. Tales of a mystery would have been a welcome diversion, but now I have your company, so I shan’t complain.”
“This is a trying time for you,” Judith said with sympathy. “Can I do anything to make you more comfortable?”
“The pillow behind my back has slipped. If you could raise it a little…?” Prudence struggled to sit upright.
Judith slipped an arm around her and pushed the pillow into place. She noticed that Prudence was sweating.
“Would you like me to bathe your head?” she suggested. “It is so warm today.”
“I should like that,” Prudence murmured. “Oh dear, I am a dreadful bore at present! I wonder how Sebastian bears with me…”
“He understands.” Judith poured water into a bowl and soaked a cloth. “You are the light of his life, as you know…”
“But sadly dimmed for the moment…” Prudence hadn’t lost her sense of humour. “Oh, Judith, that feels so good!” She lay back and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool cloth against her brow. “Can you stay for a time?”
“Of course, if that is what you wish…” Judith continued with her task.
“I do. You are such a peaceful person. You don’t fuss, or worry me with stupid questions. I cannot abide a fidget.”
“Of course not!” Judith soothed her. “There is nothing worse than a busy person when one is feeling not quite up to the mark.”
“I am not sick, you know.” Prudence managed a weary smile. “But I have a million things to do. It is so galling to be forced to lie here thinking about them.”
“Then don’t.” Judith had an inspiration. “You can help me if you will…just by listening as you lie there.”
Prudence sighed. “My dear, I should not dream of offering you advice. Did we not promise not to speak of your betrothal?”
“It isn’t that. Pru, how could you think that I should worry you about it? This is something else…”
“More secrets?”
“Well, yes, in a way.” Judith looked a little conscious. “I’d like your opinion on…on my book.”
“Your book?” Prudence opened her eyes and sat up suddenly. “You are actually writing a book? My dear, how wonderful! We said always that you should do so. Do you have it with you?”
Judith chuckled, though her colour rose. “It is not so wonderful that I must carry it about with me, but Dan has asked to see it, so I brought the manuscript today. Of course, I have not spoken of it to…to…”
“To anyone else? Never fear! Your secret is safe with me. I confess that I’m flattered to be asked for my opinion.”
“I could be wasting my time,” Judith told her gravely. “I am not the best judge of my own work. Dan liked the first few chapters, but it may be that he is simply offering me encouragement.”
Prudence considered for a moment. “No, you are mistaken! I’m sure he would be honest, even if you did not enjoy his criticism. You are much too sensible to ask for an opinion if you did not wish to hear the truth.”
“I’m glad you think as I do. Flattery is valueless. I prefer to have my weaknesses pointed out. It can be helpful to a novice.”
“Hardly a novice, Judith! Have you not been writing since you could first put pen to paper?”
“That’s true, but they were childish efforts—”
“And what of your essays which made us laugh so much? Is the book in the same amusing vein?”
“Perhaps you’d like to judge for yourself? That is, if it won’t tire you to hear me read aloud?”
“My dear, it will be a godsend! I quite fancy myself a literary critic. How foolish I have been to trouble my mind with lesser matters! You have quite restored me. Read on, I beg of you.”
“Now you are funning,” Judith said severely. “I believe you to be the most complete hand…and quite as bad as Perry.”
“Never doubt it! Sebastian despairs of me…I rely on the patience of my friends.” Prudence leaned back against her pillows, but her expression was so comical that Judith began to laugh.
“No, Madame Author, pray be serious! This will not do, you know. We are to have a serious discussion…”
Judith gave up. She took the manuscript from her reticule, leafing over several pages until she reached the chapter which had pleased her most. Then, in her clear and beautiful tones, she launched into her story.
Prudence said nothing for a time. Then Judith heard a chuckle. Encouraged, she continued until the chuckle became an outright shout of laughter.
“Judith, I shall never ask you to another party, you sly creature! You sit there, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt, whilst you look into our hearts as if we were made of glass.”
“Not yours, Prudence, nor those of any of my friends. Have I been too cruel? I did not mean to pillory any one particular person. It is just that sometimes I feel that we…Polite Society, I mean…are like the froth upon a seething cauldron. Skimmed off, and thrown away, we should be no great loss.”
“Never say so, Judith!” Prudence grew serious. “Excellence may appear in the most unlikely circumstances. Take the Prince Regent, for example. He is extravagant, self-indulgent, almost certainly a bigamist, and an uncertain friend. Yet consider his achievements! The first member of the Royal Family for centuries with a true regard for culture.”
“Yes, but…”
“But his influence is felt throughout society. Look about you, not only in this house, but in others. Have you seen such craftsmanship in furniture, in decoration, in clothing, and…oh, I don’t know…I suppose I must describe it as a way of life…You won’t deny that it is civilised?”
“Of course not, but is it enough?”
“It isn’t!” Prudence gave her a straight look. “Why do you think I am fretting so? Pregnancy? Not so! I am used to this condition, and happy to give Sebastian our children. Yet I can’t forget the evils which surround us. I’d made a start in changing the conditions in the northern mills, especially for the children, but now I feel so helpless.”
“You will continue with the work. I wish that I might say the same.”
“Then that was why…? Forgive me, as I am being indiscreet, but we all wondered at your decision to marry a parson.”
“I hope I can be useful,” Judith told her warmly. “Oh, Pru, I know that you don’t like Charles Truscott, but you don’t know him. He means to devote his life to helping others.”
This sanguine belief was not echoed in the library below.
“You have news?” Dan had scarcely been able to contain himself until he was out of earshot of the servants.
“Yes! There have been developments. I thought it best to meet our Runner in a coffee house.” Sebastian gave the younger man a hard look. “You will keep this to yourself, of course?”
“Of course! But tell me what has happened…”
“Truscott returned to the parish of St Giles. He spent the day in a certain house. When he emerged it was to conduct a funeral.”
“Outside his own parish?”
“Unusual, perhaps, but nothing out of the way, except that one of the mourners was well known to our man. His name is Margrave.”
Dan looked mystified. “You’ve heard of him?”
“So has half the world. Dick Margrave is a well-known forger. There were ugly rumours. He escaped the noose by a whisker. He was due for transportation when he disappeared.”
“Our quarry keeps strange company,” Dan observed.
“There is more. Truscott was well muffled, but at the graveside he was forced to reveal his face. He appeared to have been beaten…”
“A quarrel among thieves? I’m only sorry that they didn’t kill him.”
“You are jumping to conclusions, Dan.”
“Am I? If he’d been attacked by strangers, why did he stay in ‘the Rookery’? The obvious course would have been to lay a complaint before the magistrates. Instead, he conducts a burial?”
“One must wonder, of course. My man attempted to discover the identity of the two corpses, but he was unsuccessful. Paupers’ graves are unmarked.”
“He might have questioned the other mourners.”
“Impossible! Margrave keeps his eye upon the three of them. He is suspicious of all strangers, and would probably have recognised our man.”
“Well, why do we wait? If this Margrave is a felon he must be given up to the law.”
“And lose our best chance of success? No, we must wait longer for certain proof of our belief that there is something wrong here.” Sebastian paused. “When Truscott left them he went on to the house in Seven Dials.”
Dan’s eyes scanned his face. “You do suspect him, don’t you?” he said earnestly. “Let me tell you what I learned today.”
He went on to describe the strange girl who had accosted Judith in Piccadilly, and given her the cryptic message.
“Now, Seb, you’ll agree there’s something smoky here? Why should Truscott mention Judith to these beggars in the first place? The relief of poverty should be his affair. And to send a message to her in this way…? Why could he not write to her himself? I may tell you I don’t like it!”
Sebastian liked it even less, but he decided to keep the rest of his information to himself. The Bow Street Runner had kept track of him for some time, and a full description of Margrave’s previous activities had been disquieting.
Sebastian had heard of him, but only as a forger. The revelation of a long history of extortion, violence, and possibly murder made his blood run cold.
What was Truscott’s connection with this man? And who was the girl who had spoken to Judith in the street, bearing a message to her from an intermediary?
“Nor do I!” he said slowly, as his gaze rested for a long moment on the younger man’s face. Dan was already seriously alarmed, and he must do nothing to increase it.
“Of course there may be a simple explanation,” he continued. “If Truscott has been injured, he may not wish to frighten Judith by appearing in his present state.”
“Begging your pardon, Seb, but that won’t wear with me! It’s my belief that he’s quarrelled with his cronies, and now he’s gone to ground. I think he wrote the note himself!”
“You may be right,” Sebastian told him mildly. “But if it’s true, it’s scarcely a hanging matter. Shall we join the ladies?”
“You mean you will do nothing?” Dan sprang to his feet. “I can’t believe it! Judith may be in the greatest danger—”
“Not for the moment, I believe. If our suspicions are correct, Truscott will do nothing to delay his marriage. Judith will be in danger only if she decides to break her engagement. Do you understand me?”
Dan flushed. “You mean that I must not continue to persuade her?”
“I mean exactly that,” Sebastian said in level tones. “I have no wish to alarm you further, but if we are right, Truscott won’t allow his prize to slip away. You have seen how easy it is for anyone to approach her.”
The colour left Dan’s face, and he swallowed. “You can’t think it possible that he would abduct her?”
“I don’t know, but we must take no chances.”
“Then I must warn her to be careful.”
“You will say nothing!” Sebastian told him sharply. “She is still firm in her decision to wed him?”
Dan nodded, his face a picture of desolation.
“That’s good! For the present it is her safeguard. Once let him doubt her willingness, and I won’t answer for the consequences.”
It was stern advice, but he felt obliged to give it. He knew Dan’s heart. The years apart had not changed his passionate devotion for his first love.
He hadn’t been so sure of Judith’s constancy, though Prudence had assured him of it.
“You must be mistaken, my love,” he’d argued gently. “Have you asked her?”
“Of course not!” His wife had taken his hand and held it against her cheek. “One needs only to see them together.”
“You are a romantic!” He’d dropped a kiss upon her hair. “If it is true, then Dan must offer for her. Judith is not wed yet—”
“He won’t do that!”
“Why not?” Sebastian was mystified.
“Need you ask? It is the fortune, my dearest. You know him. Would he ever take anything from you?”
Sebastian frowned. “No! That stubborn refusal of my help has been the cause of what few differences we have had, but this is another matter. The happiness of two people is at stake.”
“I can’t persuade him.” Her eyes were sad.
It was this sadness more than anything which had persuaded him to take such a close interest in Judith’s affairs, though at first it had been much against his better judgment. Now he could only marvel at feminine intuition. Prudence and Elizabeth had been right to distrust the Reverend Charles Truscott. His determination to worst the creature hardened, but his expression was apparently untroubled as he reentered his wife’s boudoir.
There he was delighted to find that his wife had been enjoying herself. She gave him a brilliant smile, and her eyes were sparkling with mischief.
“Feeling better?” he teased. “What have you been up to?”
“Not I, my love, but Judith! Now who would believe that beneath that air of calm reserve lies the wickedest sense of the ridiculous?”
“I would, for one, and so would Dan.” Sebastian glanced at the scattered sheets of manuscript, and pretended to shudder. “Dan, I fear that we have been pinned to the board once more as interesting specimens.”
Judith gathered up the pages. “How can you say so?” she reproached. “You know it is not true.”
“Not even interesting?” Sebastian glanced at Dan and pulled a face. “I’m crushed, aren’t you?”
“Now, my darling, I won’t have Judith teased. You may not care to know it, but I’ve been working hard. I am now a literary critic…”
“But you always were…” Dan joined in the teasing “…the harshest one I’ve known, and always against the popular opinion. I had thought you must be sunk beneath reproach when you gave your view on Alexander Pope at Lady Denton’s soirée.”
“Turgid stuff! Besides, I was asked for my opinion. Would you have had me lie?”
“Perish the thought!” Sebastian sat beside her on the day-bed. “Shall you come down for nuncheon, dearest?”
“Great heavens! You must all be starving! Give me ten minutes and I’ll join you. Dearest, will you ring the bell for Dutton?”
Sebastian did as he was bidden, and led their guest from the room. In the corridor he took her arm.
“Judith, how can I thank you? Pru is quite herself again today. Dan, don’t you agree?”
Judith looked at her love, and caught her breath as she saw the warmth of his expression.
“How could it be otherwise?” he murmured slowly. “Judith has a certain quality which is not easy to explain…” He caught Sebastian’s eye and looked away.
Their nuncheon was a gay affair, and Sebastian’s chef, who had tried for weeks to tempt the flagging appetite of his mistress, was clearly on his mettle. Well aware that a lady in an interesting condition was likely to feel queasy at the sight of food, he had produced the lightest, freshest dishes imaginable.
Imaginative salads flanked the glazed ham and the platters of smoked duck. The épigrammes of chicken with a celery puree were tempting, and even lighter were the quenelles, tiny fish balls done à la Flamande. They were followed by a featherlight orange soufflé, and a selection of fruit jellies.
Sebastian smiled to himself. His more usual nuncheon, if he took one, consisted of a selection of cold meats and fruit. On this occasion, he announced that he was very hungry. Prudence beamed at him. Animated for the first time in days, she allowed herself to be helped to an excellent meal, almost without noticing.
Later he took Judith to one side. A plan was forming in his mind. It was a long shot, but it might succeed.
“What a difference you have made to Prudence!” he murmured. “Today, my dear, she is a different person. To see her so much more herself is a great joy to me.”
Judith smiled. “I think you have no need to worry. She has enjoyed her nuncheon…”
“For the first time in weeks. I’ve tried not to let her see it, but I have been concerned about her.”
Judith scanned his face with anxious eyes. “She tells me that she is not sick.”
“No, Judith, she is bored to death. What she needs is stimulation. You have given it to her.”
“You can’t quarrel with her temperament. In the usual way she is so full of projects…These last few weeks are hard for her.”
“My dear, I know it. How I wish that you might come to us, if only for a day or two! I have no right to ask. Your own marriage is so close, but is there the least chance that it might be possible?”
“I should like nothing more,” she told him wistfully. “But Charles is to return tomorrow. I must be at home to greet him.”
“Of course! It is selfish of me to put my own concerns before your own…”
Sebastian did not press her further. He knew that her affection for Prudence would lead her to stay at Mount Street if she could. That would be the answer for a time. Events were moving fast, and he trusted neither the preacher nor his friends.