Chapter Twenty-One

 

Scarlett Hall, 1762

 

Lady Juliet Lambert was wrought with guilt. She had drawn the ire of her husband, Lord Henry Lambert, 6th Baron Lambert, yet she was unsure how. They had been married nearly three years, and Henry had become more withdrawn with each passing day. Although she understood that a man had a need to attend to business during the day, the nights were what brought her great worry.

Her husband spent most evenings away from home, and when he was in residence, he spoke to her rarely. She had tried to please him, going so far as to embroider a new handkerchief for him. Yet, when she presented him with her gift, he merely sneered at it and threw it back in her face. He was slowly becoming far different from the man who had wooed and courted her, which was her reason for speaking to the young new vicar, Reverend Ambrose Creassey.

The vicar was perhaps a year older than her two and twenty years. At her and her husband’s wedding, Reverend Creassey had spoken to her privately, telling her that if any problems arose between her and her new husband, she could call on him at any time for marital advice.

Juliet had thought the gesture kind, and now that she was indeed having marital problems, she found herself seeking his wisdom. If anyone knew how to mend a marriage, a reverend certainly would.

The carriage came to a stop in front of a large cottage, much larger than she would have expected of a vicar, yet who was she to speak ill of a man of God? Perhaps his works were such that God had seen him blessed for all he had done for others.

Her skirts flowed around her slippers as she made her way up the stone path to the front door, but before she was able to touch the knocker, the door opened and the reverend himself greeted her with a smile.

“Lady Lambert,” he said with only the slightest dip of his head, “what a pleasant surprise to see you again.”

“Thank you, Reverend,” she said. “I am afraid I must speak with you again. Things with Henry have not improved in the least, and I am quite at a loss as to what to do.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I understand. Please, come in and we shall discuss your problem further in private.”

She glanced around, shame filling her. What made her believe that airing her issues in front of the vicar’s home would be the right thing to do? Her current mental situation was not making her think clearly. Stepping into the small foyer, she allowed the reverend to remove her wrap.

“I am sorry my home is not as grand as Scarlett Hall, but I suspect no home is quite as wonderful.”

Juliet laughed. “I have told you before, you have a lovely home. And I am sorry I did not send a card beforehand, but I do appreciate you taking the time out of what a assume is a very busy schedule to speak with me.”

They entered the sitting room. An elegant sofa covered in red and gold sat across from a pair of matching chairs, all better suited for a much larger house than the country cottage in which the reverend lived. She frowned. The last time she had called, his furnishings were much more simple and modest.

What surprised her more, however, was the large drinks cart filled with more than a dozen crystal decanters. She had thought vicars did not drink, or at least none she knew.

Her disapproval must have shown on her face, for the reverend chuckled and said, “There is no harm in drinking an occasional glass of wine. The rest is so my guests can choose based on his - or her - preference. Please, sit. Allow me to pour you a drink.”

She nodded and sat on the sofa. “Thank you, but no.”

He clicked his tongue at her. “You do not wish me to believe you rude, would you?”

Juliet gasped. “No, of course not.”

“Then you will accept my offer,” he said, smiling at her as he glanced over his shoulder. “Now, tell me what brings a lost sheep to my home today?”

Juliet smiled, for she was indeed lost and in need of guidance. “It is Henry,” she replied. “We have been married three years now, and the chasm I spoke of with you before has widened. I do not know what to do!”

“And did you speak to him concerning your worries as I advised?” Reverend Creassey asked. When he smiled at her, for a moment she saw a handsomeness she had not noticed before.

She chastised herself silently. He was a man of God and she a married woman! What right did she have to think him handsome, even if it was for the tiniest moment?

“I did,” she replied. “Twice, in fact.” When the reverend took the seat beside her rather than the chair across, her heart caught in her throat. She accepted the glass of wine reluctantly. “Thank you,” she said. “I do not usually drink.”

“It helps relax the mind so the truth can be spoken,” he said. “Unless you believe me unworthy to share a drink with?”

Julie’s eyes widened. She had not meant to offend the man! “No, of course not,” she assured him. “It is I who is unworthy, as I have failed in my marriage and now draw my husband’s ire.”

Reverend Creassey smiled and took a sip of his wine. When he gave her an expectant look, Juliet did the same. How had she come to a point in her life where she angers her husband and offends a vicar?

“When you looked at the many decanters on my cart, I saw judgment in your eyes. Do you deny this?”

Juliet studied the glass in her hands. “No, Father,” she whispered. “I did judge you, but I had not meant to. I had merely thought it odd and nothing more.”

“And now you drink with me and the judgment is gone?” he asked, his voice angry.

Why did she always put her foot wrong? If she had denied her initial thoughts, he would never have known. Yet, lying to a vicar had to be amongst the worst of sins!

“My apologies, Father,” she whispered. “I had meant no offense.”

As if he had not been filled with anger before, he gave her a dismissive wave of his hand. “There is nothing for which to apologize,” he said. “I find we humans tend to judge one another when we are hurting. It may be an attempt to garner control over our own lives. But enough about that. I believe I can help you remedy your problem.”

Juliet could not help but smile. Why could Henry not be like this man - willing to listen and give comfort?

“I must ask you a few questions,” Reverend Creassey said. “And your honesty is of the utmost importance. If you are not honest, I cannot aid you in making the proper improvements.”

“I do not lie,” Juliet replied, looking at him in the eyes to prove she spoke the truth.

He sighed.

Did he not believe her? “Please, feel free to ask me anything.”

“Very well,” he said, “we will see how honest you truly are. Do you allow your husband to work uninterrupted?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, surprised at the question.

“And you obey his every word?”

She agreed again. With each question, Juliet grew more worried and sipped her wine without thought.

“You have certain duties as a wife, Juliet,” Reverend Creassey said. “May I call you Juliet?”

“Yes, of course, Father,” she said.

He took her glass - how had it become empty? - and placed it beside his on the low table beside them. “A woman must fulfill her husband’s every desire,” he said. “Are you doing that?”

What a bold question! Juliet thought, her heart racing at the inquiry into what should have been intimate between her and her husband.

She swallowed hard. “Yes, Father,” she whispered, her cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “I have completed all that is required of me.”

Had it grown warm in the house? She wanted to fan herself but could not risk offending the reverend again. But, oh, how warm she felt!

He studied her for a moment and then said, “I believe you.” He placed a hand atop hers, and the warmth spread up her arm and into her torso. “Although I should be accepting the words of a baron, I will accept those of a baroness instead.”

Juliet sighed with relief. If he believed her, it meant he was no longer offended by her earlier behavior. “Thank you,” she replied. “But what am I to do?”

“It is up to you to continue to seek his approval,” the reverend replied, releasing her hand. “It may take some time, but I believe your husband will see beyond your errors. But you must be patient. And pray the man hits his head.”

Juliet’s eyes widened in shock. “I beg your pardon?” Had she heard him correctly? “Did you say I should pray he hits his head?”

Reverend Creassey nodded. “Yes, because then perhaps wisdom will seep in.”

Juliet could not help but giggle. He was teasing her!

How strange! When she looked into this man’s eyes, she could not help but smile. It was as if he was calling to her, and she could not stop the increase of her heartbeat. Here was a man who listened to her, a man who cared for her. Not one who bedded his servants as she knew Henry had been doing.

In fact, that was the very reason her husband no longer came to her bed. When she wanted only to be held, the only reward she received was a light kiss on the cheek.

Without thought, for her mind had become muddled, she leaned toward the man and put her arms around him.

“Lady Lambert…”

“I want nothing more than to be held,” she whispered as tears rolled down her cheeks. “To know what it is like to be loved.”

 

***

 

Scarlett Hall, 1769

 

Like the former Ladies Lambert, Lady Juliet Lambert wrote her innermost secrets in journals, a tradition dating back over a hundred years. Yet, unlike her predecessors, she had left out an important entry. To omit anything was a disservice to the women who came before her, and therefore, it was time to see that mistake rectified.

Upon hearing her young sons, Charles and Silas, arguing as children often do, she hurried to chastise them for their unruly behavior, leaving the journal open on the writing desk.

An hour later, her husband confronted her about the words she had confessed.

“You sicken me!” he shouted, his breath hot on her face. “To have a liaison with another man? And with the good reverend, no less! How dare you shame me in such a horrible way?” He stomped to the other side of the bedroom, grasped the bottle containing her favorite perfume, and threw it, nearly striking her in the head.

“You do not understand!” Juliet sobbed. “I was concerned for our marriage and went to him for guidance. It had not been my intention to have anything happen! It is why I put a stop to it immediately after. You must believe me! I did not know what I was doing!”

Outside, a storm raged, much like her husband’s temper. “Reverend Creassey has always proven to be a good man, a faithful representative of God,” he said, his lip curled. “And yet you dared tempt him like some strumpet? You disgust me! I want to never look upon your face again!”

Juliet looked up at him in shock. “Henry?” she whispered, her heart breaking. “If you would only listen!” Since exchanging vows, she had done nothing but try to please this man but to no avail. Was there nothing she could do that would please him?

“Silence, woman!” he said. “I will not have you, nor that bastard child, in this house any longer! I expect you and the boy to be ready to leave in three days. If I did not have important business to see to, I would see you gone this very night. Silas will be my heir, and I will seek a divorce and find myself a new wife. One who will not throw herself at a holy man of God!”

It was with utter devastation that she stared at her husband. “You believe Charles is not your son?” she asked. “But he resembles you in every way. He and Silas could be twins if not for the difference in their ages. I did not make the mistake until after…”

“It does not matter!” Henry snapped “I will not take the chance that my family’s bloodline is compromised because of your indiscretion.”

She wiped tears from her eyes. “Where will we go?”

“I will arrange for the two of you to go to London,” he replied, and for the first time she could smell the brandy on his breath. “You should be thankful I will at least do that.”

“You have an estate there?”

Henry’s laugh was malevolent. “No, you cow! To the streets. It is where other Covent Garden nuns such as yourself and their bastard children live. Perhaps you can feed you and your son by offering your body to other men as you did the reverend. I understand prostitutes are paid well for their services.” He grasped her hand and she cried out in pain as he pulled the wedding ring from her finger. “You may sleep in the drawing room. Be thankful it is not the stables, which is where you belong - with the other animals.”

Although Juliet had once loved her husband, none of that love remained. Yet, she could not allow him to take away what rightfully belonged to Charles.

“I realize you have had many indiscretions,” she whispered. “You speak their names in your sleep. If you wish to continue to have your mistresses, I will never speak a word against it. In fact, I will remain a dutiful wife and look away.” She placed a hand on his arm. “We are both angry and hurt. I am sorry for what I did, but I swear to you, it happened only the one time and has never happened again since. Please, for the sake of our children, hear me!”

He stared down at her with a sneer. “A man has the right to fulfill his desires as he sees fit. A woman, a lady of title, no less, does not have that right. When she strays, her actions are unforgivable.” He pushed her hand away. “Now, leave, before I add murder to my list of ‘indiscretions’.”

Juliet recognized that look in his eyes, and she left the room before he chose to take his anger further.

Hurrying to the drawing room, she slammed shut the door and threw herself onto the sofa, sobbing. Henry would never listen to her. Her mistake had been nothing more than a lapse in judgment, for her heart had been hurting. Plus, at the time, it was a bit of revenge for what she knew very well her husband had been doing. Yet, in the end, it was only she who had been hurt.

Now her husband believed Charles was not his son. What was she to do? She could not live on the streets of London with a boy of six! And why should Charles be punished for her indiscretion?

The sounds of whispers in the hallway came to her ear, and she eased open the door and peered through the tiny crack. Rage replaced shame as Henry led one of the young maids by the hand up the stairs. Soon, they disappeared from view.

Juliet’s stomach roiled. The first time she had caught her husband doing the same, she had dismissed it. Yet, as the years continued, she had lost count of how many other maids he had coaxed to his room.

Although Juliet carried guilt for her actions, she knew Henry would never change, even if he allowed her to remain. She understood what she had to do. She had to secure not only her future, but more importantly that of her sons. And to do so, she had but one choice to make…