|
|
THE INHABITANTS OF the Grosvenor Square address passed an anxious hour waiting for James to reply to the pleading note Julia had sent. The minutes piled up with unbearable sloth, until Julia’s pacing around the drawing room had driven both her and Louisa to the point of snapping at each other.
“Please be still,” Louisa begged her sister from an uncomfortable chair near the fire. Her own back was ramrod-straight, though her hands twisted in her lap, belying her nervousness.
“I can’t,” Julia replied, sitting down and beginning to beat her heels against the legs of the chair. “I have to move. It keeps me from thinking. At least, as much as I would if I were sitting still.”
Kick, kick. Kick, kick. Louisa sighed her annoyance, and Julia jumped up at once and began pacing again. “Why doesn’t he write? Why doesn’t he come? What’s the matter?”
She stopped pacing, struck by an idea. “I should go to his house and speak to him in person.”
This elicited a strong reaction from Louisa. “No!” she cried, rising from her chair to stand between Julia and the door. “Absolutely not. You must see that that’s impossible.”
“Why?” Julia replied. “What could it matter now? The worst is already done.”
“We are far from having had the worst happen. If you go to him now, your reputation as a loose woman will be confirmed in everyone’s minds. You may never recover, even if he does marry you. But if the next news related to you is marriage, people will soon forget. They may enjoy a good scandal, but everyone knows that things are usually not as bad as they sound. They’ll let it go.”
Julia felt mulish, and she folded her arms. She was desperate to do something. As she stepped forward again, Louisa spread her arms wide to block the doorway. “Julia. You must stay. We can do nothing else that does not strictly comply with propriety.” She swallowed and added, “If you won’t regard that for yourself . . . will you think of me?”
Julia threw her hand up in capitulation. Louisa was right. Julia had been thinking only of her own impatience and apprehension, but Louisa was going through the same emotions, with an added dash of humiliation to leaven the mixture.
Julia dragged herself back to a chair and dropped into it spiritlessly, not swinging her heels against the chair legs this time. Why bother kicking? It wouldn’t make James come for her any sooner. Why try not to think of it? How could she possibly hope to distract herself from something that would dictate the whole future course of her life? She should be thinking of it, unbearable though the suspense was.
Thankfully, a message came from James soon afterward, relieving both young women. Julia ripped open the sealed missive almost before Louisa had dismissed the servant who had brought it in.
She skimmed the letter eagerly, but her hopefulness changed at once to stunned pain.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t believe it.” Her head felt light, as if all the blood had drained from it. With boneless legs, she sagged to the floor, drawing deep breaths to keep her vision from going black with terror.
“Good God,” Louisa gasped, staring at Julia in amazement. “What does it say?”
Julia squeezed her eyes shut and shoved the paper along the floor to Louisa. She heard her sister pick it up and read it softly aloud.
Miss Herington:
Thank you for the honor of your letter. I regret that I am unable to oblige you in the matter you requested.
Sincerely,
Matheson
To hear this read aloud was an agony that Julia had never known before. She was so stunned by the chill, formal rejection that she had nothing to say.
If it hadn’t been so terrible, she might have thought it was rather funny. She, Julia, had finally been brought to the point of silence.
She wished she could vanish. Just blink out of existence, away from seals and notes and broken promises.
“What is this? Is this some kind of a cruel joke?” Louisa finally asked.
Her eyes still shut, Julia replied flatly, “How could it be a joke? It bore his seal.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at Louisa from her huddle on the floor. “What did I do? Why did he change his mind?” She could barely manage to whisper, her voice was so choked with pain. “Doesn’t he love me anymore?”
“I don’t believe in this,” Louisa said decisively, slapping the note against her palm. “Remember, I know James’s handwriting, and this isn’t it. And this doesn’t sound like him, does it? He would never be so cold.”
A flicker of hope stabbed through Julia. “He didn’t send that?” Then she thought of another possibility. “Perhaps he had his valet write it. If he really didn’t care.”
He’d already bedded her, after all. Perhaps that was all he had ever wanted from her. She couldn’t really believe that of him, even now, but here was the terrible written evidence right before her, bearing his seal.
Such was the word of a viscount. A bitter laugh escaped her.
Louisa crouched down to look Julia in the eye. “You are overset. You know that can’t be true. He loves you deeply. Perhaps he’s not at home, and some guest took advantage of his absence to send this.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Julia said. “Who bears me such a grudge? Not even Xavier. He didn’t seek to single me out; I was just unluckily at hand when he came by.”
“I don’t know,” Louisa said. “But it can’t be from James. Let’s show this to our aunt and see what she thinks.”
Lady Irving entered the room then, drawn by the commotion of doors opening and closing. “Is he here?” she asked as she swept through the doorway. Then she noticed her two nieces sitting on the floor, a rumpled piece of paper between them.
“Ah.” She paused, drawing swift conclusions from the scene before her. “I wouldn’t have thought it of the fellow. How bad is it?”
Wordlessly, Louisa handed her the paper and rubbed Julia’s back. Lady Irving skimmed the message, then crumpled it and threw it in the fire. Despite herself, Julia gasped, and reached fruitlessly out for the burned paper.
“That was the last note I will ever have from him,” she whispered. She knew even as she said it that it was a pitiful thing to wish for. Why should she want such a dreadful message? But it had his name on it. She loved that name.
“Rot,” the countess snorted. “If you think that message was truly from Matheson, it’s time to pack you off to Bedlam. The only thing is,” she mused, “how would someone have been able to send a note under his seal?”
“That’s what I was trying to think,” Louisa chimed in. “Perhaps he’s not at home, and some caller took advantage of his absence? Though I cannot imagine who.”
“We’ll sort this out,” Lady Irving replied grimly. “I’ll send Simone over to his place for a look about. If he’s gone, we’ll leave another message for him. And if he’s home . . .” A martial light glowed in her eyes, and she finished, “Well, he won’t treat my girls like this. I’ll have his manhood for it.”
Both sisters gasped in shock, and Lady Irving turned a sharp eye on them. “What? Let the punishment fit the crime, I say. Now get up off the floor and make yourselves fit to be seen. Very likely we’ll be having a wedding today after all.”
She offered an affectionate smile as she helped Louisa and Julia to their feet and into chairs. “There you go, my girls. This is all rather fun, isn’t it?”
Fun? Julia stared at her aunt in amazement, and saw Louisa wearing a similar expression of disbelief.
Before she could even reply, a footman announced Sir Stephen Saville and at once ushered him into the room.
Oh, Lord. As if they were any of them equipped to deal with a caller at this time. Especially him. Why in heaven’s name had he come? Julia wondered with a sudden prickle of apprehension if his chivalrous urges would lead him to “save” her from the distressing situation by renewing his proposals of the previous day.
Had it really all happened in only a day? Unbelievable.
Well, she hoped he would say nothing of the kind. Her mind whirled even as her voice mechanically made the proper greeting and her head inclined for a curtsy, and she saw her relatives doing the same, their faces as bemused as hers must be. If he should offer for her again, what should she say? If James truly refused to marry her, this could be her only hope for social recovery. For a family of her own.
No, even so, she still couldn’t do it. She must trust that things would work out with James.
Somehow.
From her position next to Lady Irving, Julia saw her aunt draw aside the footman who had shown in their guest.
“Fool,” her ladyship hissed. “We are not receiving callers at this time.”
The footman gulped, but replied, “My apologies, my lady. You had told me that Sir Stephen might be shown up at any time he called.”
With a cluck of annoyance, Lady Irving dismissed the servant and turned to their guest with a bright, false smile. Fortunately, Sir Stephen had noticed none of this exchange, as Louisa had directed his attention toward the choice of a comfortable seat and ascertained that he needed no refreshment.
“I fear this is not entirely a visit of pleasure,” the baronet intoned, “although it is always an honor to be in the presence of ladies.”
He nodded at Lady Irving and Louisa, and Julia felt a gnawing sense of doubt begin to grow in her stomach. What did that mean? Was he referring to the fact that Julia was the only untitled woman here, or . . . was this about that cruel news item that cast doubts on her respectability?
She couldn’t think of anything to say, and apparently neither could her aunt and Louisa, because all three women stared at him, waiting for him to come to the point.
“Yes, well,” he continued, looking a bit discomfited at having three steady gazes on him, “what I have to say is somewhat personal, for the ears of Miss Herington. I deem it only appropriate that you remain here as chaperone, Lady Irving, but I would like to give Miss Herington the opportunity to select the audience for this conversation.”
He cast his eyes from one woman to the next. Nobody budged.
Finally, Julia replied in a wooden voice, “Anything you have to say to me may be said in front of my aunt and my sister.” She couldn’t imagine what was coming, but she knew it wouldn’t be good.
“I see.” Sir Stephen hesitated. “This is difficult for me to say, but I am anxious that there should be no confusion between us, Miss Herington. My proposals of yesterday, and my regard for you, were based upon an apparent misunderstanding of your character and proclivities.”
Julia gasped. The nerve!
Sir Stephen continued, “I am sure you understand to what I refer—the unfortunate, ah . . .”
“Yes, we know,” Lady Irving broke in crisply. “Come to the point, man.”
Sir Stephen cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “Ah . . . very well. I, ah, wanted to let you know that I will not be renewing my proposal of marriage to you, Miss Herington. I do condole with you and your family for this public embarrassment, but I am sure you understand that I am looking for a wife of moral uprightness.”
Julia stood, and her relatives echoed her movements at once. Sir Stephen looked doubtfully at them, and then slowly rose himself, as was proper.
Always, what was proper. Julia couldn’t blame the man for being horrified, but honestly. Couldn’t he credit her with enough tact not to run to him as a haven after she was publicly condemned for being with another man?
“Thank you for your message, Sir Stephen,” she replied in a cool voice that fell just short of courtesy. “I assure you I had no intention of pressuring you into a renewal of those proposals you extended to me yesterday. As I mentioned then, and as must be abundantly clear to you now, I care for another.”
Sir Stephen flinched at her chilly reply, yet pressed on. “I meant no disrespect, Miss Herington. I do feel for you, most sincerely, to be used and cast aside by one whom I had regarded as a friend to us both.” He shook his head in sorrow. “I had thought Matheson would at least act honorably after exposing you to such public condemnation, but I fear I was mistaken in his character.”
“What do you mean?” Lady Irving asked, her eyes narrowing. “Matheson’s offered to marry her. We’ve received a note from him to that effect.” The lie tripped off her lips smoothly.
The baronet looked taken aback by this statement. “Is that so? I am happy to be wrong, then. Only I just paid him a visit to commiserate on his public misfortune, and he said nothing about it. I was most distressed at his detachment from the whole affair.”
“He was . . . at home?” Louisa looked quickly from Julia to Lady Irving.
“Why, yes,” Sir Stephen replied. “He was taking tea with his mother when I arrived. They seemed most convivial. His mother was even speaking of plans to attend some type of a musicale with Lord and Lady Alleyneham.”
Lady Irving swiftly moved to the door and opened it for the baronet. “Thank you for your call, Sir Stephen. You’ve been most enlightening. We need not keep you any longer.”
Their guest nodded his understanding, and with a last sorrowful look at Julia, he bowed his farewell.
He had looked genuinely sad for her. For them all. Julia wondered if he had loved her, after all. If so, it must have been a terrible shock for him to read that morning’s scandal sheet.
But she had bigger problems to consider now than the degree of Sir Stephen Saville’s disappointment. Eventually, he would overcome it. But she . . . she wasn’t sure she would get over hers.
Because James was at home.
He was home, and he was talking about going out and about publicly with her friend Charissa Bradleigh, while she was here waiting for him to show up and marry her so she wouldn’t be ruined. He must have sent that note—or, if it wasn’t his handwriting, then he must have had someone else send it for him.
She didn’t understand, but she didn’t have to. Waiting around was intolerable, and waiting around with the entire ton ready to pity her, judge her, and give her the cut direct was even worse than intolerable. If there was such a thing.
Julia looked up to meet the eyes of her aunt and sister. They were both staring at her, open-mouthed, waiting for her reaction to Sir Stephen’s revelations.
“I still don’t believe it,” Louisa insisted quickly. Lady Irving said nothing, only shook her head.
“It doesn’t matter,” Julia said. “Well, that’s not true. It does matter. It matters more than anything.”
She choked for a second, and with an effort, held back angry tears to explain. “Whether he wrote that terrible note or not, he’s not here. He didn’t come when I said I needed him.
“Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding; maybe not. I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t marry me after he promised to.” She darted a quick look at Louisa, remembering too late that her sister had, only two days ago, been the lady engaged to the viscount in question. “But I can’t linger anymore to see what he’ll do, or when. I can’t wait for him to save me. I want to leave; I want to go home. That’s the only thing I can do, unfortunately.”
“I’ll second that,” Louisa said. “I’m ready to leave here for good.”
She wrapped Julia in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it either. Maybe we can write to him again when we get home.”
Lady Irving shook her head. “It’s for him to make it right.” For the first time in Julia’s memory, the countess looked discouraged. Seeing her vivacious, sharp-tongued aunt brought low was, in Julia’s mind, the most shocking development of all. If her aunt no longer believed in James . . . maybe that was that, then.
“We’ll leave today,” the countess decided. “As soon as we can be packed.”
“Need we wait for that?” Julia pleaded. “Simone could follow with the trunks, couldn’t she?”
She searched her aunt’s doubtful countenance, begging with her eyes. Please, please, let us go now. Please let us out of this terrible situation. Please let us go home.
“Very well,” Lady Irving assented at last, her voice regaining some of its strength. “We’ll go as soon as the carriage can be brought round. I’ll have the knocker removed from the door at once.” She grimaced. “We certainly don’t need anyone else coming by to throw their pity in our face.”
“But what if James calls?” Julia asked. She couldn’t help wondering, or just a little, still hoping.
“If he calls,” her ladyship said scornfully, “I don’t suppose the simple fact of the knocker being off the door would stop him from finding you.”
Within twenty minutes, they were in the carriage and on their way back to Kent. James had not, after all, come for her.