Chapter Four

 

 

Julia hurried down the stairs in her riding habit to the front entrance where she paused at the top of the steps to watch the scene below.

Horses and grooms were milling about in the pale sunshine, while loaders and beaters with half a dozen spaniels scampering about at their heels helped the shooting party check their guns. Two large brakes to which four horses were harnessed were standing ready, impatient to carry them to the coverts.

Philip was deep in conversation with Lord Reefton, Giles Arbuthnot and Digby Mortimer.

Julia noted the Countess of Reefton was mounted on a grey gelding and Lady Furnbridge on an elderly roan, while Cecily was standing in front of a chestnut mare being held by a groom. Another bay mare was being walked around, and Julia assumed that this was her mount.

Arabella and Lady Wetherby stood together at the top of the stairs, talking to Sinclair-Wells who looked to be totally smitten with his hostess. Arabella smiled approvingly as Julia made her way down towards her mount while Colonel Fortescue gave her a cheerful wave as she presented herself to the head groom for instructions.

‘Ah, there you are Miss Farraday, Gibbons has your horse all ready for you,’ called Lady Furnbridge.

‘You should have a good ride today ma’am,’ said the Colonel as Gibbons helped her mount the bay. ‘I rather wish I was going with you,’ he added enviously.

‘We are meeting the guns for nuncheon,’ continued Lady Furnbridge with an eye to the sky. ‘As long as it doesn’t rain.’

‘Do come along Cecy,’ ordered Lady Reefton. ‘We want to get goin’ and the nags are gettin’ restive.’

Lady Cecily rolled her eyes heavenwards, and then gazed towards the stairs down which Sinclair-Wells was descending albeit reluctantly. With an arch smile Lady Cecily asked: ‘Oh Mr Sinclair-Wells, would you mind helping me mount?’

‘Not at all ma’am,’ he answered politely before pointedly turning to smile and wave to Arabella.

The men and beaters climbed into the brakes with the dogs excitedly running alongside and started off to their shoot. Two grooms mounted the horses that had been tethered to the trap, and accompanied the ladies with Isabella Furnbridge leading them on their ride around the estate.

Fortunately the rain held off as it took two hours, but even then they had covered only a small portion of the estate. Isabella was an excellent guide; knowing it all from childhood she was able to show them all the best vistas, intriguing follies, and other features of interest dating back centuries. All the while they carefully avoided the areas around the coverts where shooting was in progress; later they would join the gentlemen for nuncheon.

Arabella and Lady Wetherby joined the ladies on their return to the house, and apart from collecting their capes they all stayed in their riding habits. Two large pony traps then took them to join the menfolk. An Egyptian tent had been erected at the site where the footmen and cooks had the meal prepared and waiting; but first Arabella dutifully inspected the generous array of hot and cold dishes.

The shoot had been successful, hence the gentlemen’s exuberant mood at a good morning’s sport. The pheasants were laid out for inspection and the keepers counted the tally while the beaters attempted to control the dogs aroused by the smell of cooking. Julia realised she too was hungry after her ride.

‘How was your shoot, Colonel?’ The moment the words were out of her mouth, Julia could have bitten her tongue. With only the one good eye surely Colonel Fortescue would have a clear disadvantage over his fellow shooters, but by his cheerful response she was instantly reassured.

‘Indeed I did, Miss Farraday,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye. As if he had read her mind he told her, ‘Despite what would appear to be a handicap, I am considered a rather competent shot, and I’m sure my tally will be quite respectable.’

Julia smiled in relief. ‘I’m glad. What of you Mr Arbuthnot?’ as that gentleman joined them.

‘I’m afraid I am no match for the Colonel, Miss Farraday,’ he said ruefully. ‘My score is going to be less than satisfactory I’m afraid.’

Julia rather liked him somewhat better for his candour, but she still felt uncomfortable in his presence, as if he was appraising her. Would he bring up Gerald Hamilton’s name to her again? She felt torn between two desires. Curiosity, because she longed to know his connection with Gerald, but loath to discuss the dreadful events that had ended in Gerald’s death, particularly in front of the other guests.

Isabella joined them as they made their way into the large exotic tent, which had tables and chairs set up, with the food on separate tables running along one side.

‘We are dining a la francaise, where the food is set out on the tables and our guests can help themselves,’ said Arabella as she joined Philip, who smiled down fondly at her.

‘Ladies, please to help yourselves. We gentlemen will follow you,’ Philip announced with a wave of his hand.

Julia followed Lady Reefton, as there was no formal precedence in dining this way, and noticed Cecily talking vivaciously to Sinclair-Wells while Sir George Nugent stood glumly by.

Julia was moving towards the table holding her plate in her hands when through the opening of the tent she saw the back of one of the beaters talking to another. Something in his stance reminded her of someone. He turned around, and the plate of food fell from Julia’s hands on to the Persian carpet below, as she stood paralysed with shock.

Jeb Wyatt… returned from the dead!

 

***

 

‘Julia, are you feeling quite well?’ Philip looked worried as he took her by the elbow. ‘You are as white as a sheet.’

Julia became aware of a footman kneeling beside her clearing up the fallen plate, and Arbuthnot standing behind Philip, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

‘Yes, yes, I am quite well, just… Who is that man Philip, the one in the dark grey coat?’ She was aware that she was stammering, and trembling all over.

‘I’m not sure of his name. He is new here, but I will ask my steward Jackson. Why do you ask, do you know him?’ Philip’s blue eyes were full of concern.

‘Do come and sit down Julia,’ said Arabella who joined them, curiosity etched across her face. ‘You are very pale. Do you feel faint?’

‘No, no.’ She tried to smile, but her face felt tight with tension.

‘Let me take your arm, Miss Farraday,’ said Arbuthnot, ‘and come and sit beside me.’

Feeling all eyes on her Julia took his arm, as Philip moved outside to speak to his steward, at the same time as Jeb Wyatt turned around in full view to face Julia.

She was only too conscious of her arm trembling in Arbuthnot’s, as she saw that the man facing her was not Jeb Wyatt, but a younger darker version with a less sinister expression.

His face registered no expression of acknowledgement as he moved on to join another beater, and Julia knew immediately the man was not Jeb Wyatt, and felt a wave of foolishness engulf her.

‘Here Miss Farraday,’ said Lord Wetherby heartily, his flushed face full of fatherly concern as she took her seat. ‘Have a glass of this, and it will put some colour in your cheeks.’

Gratefully she took the glass of hot shrub, and immediately felt the warmth of it flow through her veins.

‘Thank you. Indeed I do feel better. I don’t know what came over me.’

‘Drink up, drink up. Why you look so much better already,’ Lord Wetherby’s loud voice boomed inside the confines of the tent, much to her embarrassment.

Philip leaned down to her and spoke quietly in her ear. ‘Jackson tells me the fellow is called Seth Wyatt, and he is a Sussex man. From your part of the country I think?’ His face too showed traces of curiosity, and she was aware that Arbuthnot seated beside her had heard.

‘I must have seen him somewhere or other. It is of no importance, believe me,’ and she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Seth Wyatt! Why, it must be one of Jeb’s younger brothers. She remembered the tale of how Jeb was supposedly her great uncle’s base born son, but somehow she never wanted to believe it because of the sheer viciousness of the man.

His mother had married a local fisherman, and Jeb had taken his stepfather’s name, along with the other children born of the marriage. For a moment Julia felt cross with herself at her stupidity in letting her emotions get the better of her.

‘Let me go and get you some food, Miss Farraday. No, I insist.’ Arbuthnot raised his hand to wave away her refusal, and rose to his feet again eying her speculatively. ‘Just sit and recover your equilibrium, you have obviously experienced some kind of shock.’

Julia did not answer, as he slowly withdrew. Arabella fluttered over to her to ask, ‘Is there anything you would like, Julia?’

‘No thank you, Arabella. Mr Arbuthnot has been kind enough to get me some luncheon.’ Aware of Philip standing on her other side, she insisted, ‘Please, go and get your own food, I am really quite well, now.’

Julia would explain later to Philip the reason for her shock at seeing Seth Wyatt; he would certainly understand, but now was not the time or place.

‘I am leaving here earlier than the rest of the party, as I need to see that all the arrangements for tonight are quite ready, announced Arabella. ‘It is our first big dinner and ball and I must admit to being a little apprehensive, though Philip and Mama assure me all will be well.’ Arabella looked pensive as she glanced at her mother and Lady Reefton chatting across the room. ‘Perhaps Julia, you would you like to accompany me back?’

‘Thank you, I would be pleased to.’

To Julia’s relief the rest of the luncheon party in the Egyptian tent passed off without further incident. Shortly afterwards Arabella and Julia left in one of the pony trap’s to prepare for the dinner party and ball that was to follow.

 

***

 

‘Do please keep still Miss Julia, or I’ll never get this even,’ said Smithers irritably as she removed a pin from between her lips while kneeling at Julia’s feet.

Julia lowered the hand held mirror, and stood rigid as Smithers deftly pinned then sewed the lace overlay on to the satin of the train. She was pleased with her appearance. Smithers had re-modelled one of her Court dresses of creamy pink satin, and overlaid it with silver lace, caught up in the front and sides and on the cap sleeves with matching pale pink camellias from the Sharnborough gardens and orangery.

The same camellias formed a coronet in her dark brown hair done up in a top knot, while her great uncle’s diamond drops fell from her ears, and the single strand of her mother’s pearls was clasped around her throat. Long kid gloves, a matching lace shawl, and fan completed the ensemble. Julia thought wistfully, if only Stephen were here to see her now. He had never seen her dressed in such finery for a ball, unlike that other ball in Rye… she gave a sigh at the remembrance of it.

She knew she was no beauty like Arabella, but her dark fringed lashes set off her clear grey eyes, and her complexion and teeth were good; in fact she felt confident that her appearance would be worthy of such an assembly of distinguished guests.

This was the first time she had worn the diamond earrings that Mrs Knight had found, in a case that came from a London jeweller some fifty years ago, tucked at the back of her great uncle’s desk. Julia could not help but wonder who the jewels were bought for, but obviously not given to. Smithers had spent a happy hour cleaning them when she was shown them, and Julia was delighted to have the opportunity to show them off.

On their arrival back at the house she had gone with Arabella to see all the preparations in progress. A footman took Julia to the orangery where a wide selection of flowers and greenery was set out for the ladies to choose what would best compliment their evening dress. Smithers was a trifle put out that she had not been there to do the choosing, as had the other abigails, but sniffed agreeably when they were delivered to her room.

On her way back from the orangery, another footman intercepted her with a request that Lord Illingham would like to speak to Miss Farraday if it was convenient. Thus Julia found herself trailing for what seemed miles to Philip’s library.

‘I have spoken further to Jackson regarding the beater Wyatt, and he tells me he has been here less than a year. Are you able to tell me why this man caused you such distress?’ Philip’s face expressed his concern.

Briefly, Julia told him of his presumed relationship to Jeb Wyatt the smuggler whose body had been found washed up on a beach near Hastings, and at whose hands she had suffered such indignities.

Philip nodded his head murmuring sympathetically, ‘Ah, I see it all now.’

‘It is of little importance now,’ Julia added slowly. ‘It was just the unexpected shock at the time.’

With that the conversation ended, and Julia returned to her room to rest before the evening’s revelry.

Smithers finished the sewing, stood up, straightened the dress, arranged the shawl around Julia’s shoulders and passed her a small posy of the camellias and held the door open for her to pass through.

‘Now do not wait up,’ Julia told her maid. ‘I can see to myself tonight. Just go to bed when you are ready.’

‘Humph,’ snorted Smithers. ‘I’ll do nothing of the sort. Go to bed indeed… get along with you. Anyways I’m going to watch some of the proceedings from an upstairs gallery with Miss Watson, Lady Furnbridge’s companion and some of the other dressers.’ This was said with smug satisfaction.

Julia smiled. Phoebe Watson was a formidable woman, so if Smithers had incurred her good graces, she had done rather well.

‘As you please, I will see you later then,’ and Julia proceeded down the hall and wide staircase to the Chancellor’s room. There the guests and host and hostess were to congregate before going in to dinner, which was to be punctually at eight, before the ball that was to follow.

That meal was held in the Crimson room, which extended through to the Persian Room. It was a lavish setting in both crimson and gold with matching plate, and camellias arranged in gold epergnes.

The footmen were kept busy with the forty guests, who included many local neighbours, and the meal was suitably sumptuous, and certainly better heated than the night before. Julia’s dinner partners were both married county men of consequence; although considerably older, they were entertaining company, and paid her so much attention she felt quite flattered.

The guests adjourned after dinner to respective drawing rooms and at the appointed time followed Philip and Arabella to the long gallery, which ran the full length of the west wing. The Sharnborough coat of arms was displayed all along the length of the room between bowers of flowers in the same colours; hundreds of candles cast a radiant glow over the entire assembly.

At one end were two orchestras from London; one to play the wild Hungarian dances that were currently all the rage, and the other the more traditional minuets and country dances, with the still slightly shocking waltz added to its repertoire.

‘I trust you will honour me with a dance Miss Farraday?’ Colonel Fortescue was all smiles as she handed him her card. The room was filling fast as the guests kept arriving, and both Arbuthnot and Mortimer requested dances from her.

At nine thirty Philip and Arabella left their position at the top of the stairs where they had been welcoming the guests, and opened the ball with a quadrille.

They were perhaps the most handsome couple together Julia had ever seen. Philip tall and blond with his fine features and noble bearing and Arabella… such flawless, ethereal beauty, truly a diamond of the first water.

Perhaps it was Philip who insisted that tonight she wear the family jewels, for the Rosyth set of tiara, necklace, brooch, earrings, and bracelets of magnificent sapphires and diamonds, flashed fire with her every graceful movement. Arabella’s blonde curls were piled up high, and the gold tissue of her dress sparkled and floated around her. No other woman in the room could hold a candle to her, and all eyes were drawn to her as a murmur of admiration buzzed around the room causing unprecedented applause from the onlookers.

It was Sinclair-Wells who, leaning against a pillar watching the scene with a look of total adoration on his countenance, said clearly, ‘Helen of Troy in all her famed beauty, would have been relegated to the non-descript were she to be here tonight.’

Lady Cecily, demure in pale blue, looked downcast as she observed the young gentleman’s besotted expression forlornly, and not even Sir George coming to take her on to the dance floor seemed to improve her spirits.

‘Are you not dancing, Dominic?’ asked the Colonel.

‘No,’ replied the young man dreamily. ‘I shall just admire Venus unobserved.’

Julia felt that such adoration was excessive, if not embarrassing, as he had received several admiring looks from some of the younger ladies present.

‘I do think perhaps Lord and Lady Illingham would be obliged if you could manage to engage some of the young ladies for a dance or two throughout the evening,’ Julia said in her most beguiling voice. ‘As a guest of the house we must honour our hosts, and besides,’ she gave him a gentle tap on the arm with her fan, ‘whatever would your mama have to say?’

That remark seemed to do the trick, for his cheeks flushed and he gave a half bow in an agreeable way and said, ‘you are quite right ma’am. I am forgetting my duty to my hosts, and I will endeavour to play my part.’

‘Well said,’ added the Colonel, ‘you will also make some of these charming girls very happy to have you as a dance partner.’

Sinclair-Wells smiled rather ruefully as Julia whispered in his ear. ‘Do not forget to ask Lady Cecily for a dance. That would make her very happy, and she is a house guest.’

He nodded his head in agreement, and so the ball proceeded to everyone’s pleasure.

Julia was asked by the Colonel, Lord Reefton, (much to her surprise) Mortimer and Arbuthnot, as well as her dinner partners to dance, which she did with great enjoyment.

While dancing with Mortimer she noticed Sinclair-Wells had taken Lady Cecily on to the dance floor and was talking to her in an animated fashion. Julia then felt guilty as she saw Sir George Nugent standing forlornly on the edge of the floor with a cross-looking Lady Reefton.

She had been on tenterhooks that while dancing a rousing Hungarian mazurka with Arbuthnot he would bring up Gerald Hamilton’s name again, but the vigour of the dance left no chance of that.

As they returned to the side of the room they were accosted by a good-looking man in his thirties, fashionably dressed, but with a distinctly foreign air about him.

‘Ah, my dear Chevalier, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here.’ Arbuthnot looked genuinely pleased.

‘My dear Monsieur Arbuthnot,’ the Chevalier’s smile and bow were perfection. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’

‘How do you come to be here? But wait, my pardon, this is Miss Julia Farraday from Sussex, this gentleman ma’am is the Chevalier Alain d’Augusseau lately arrived from Paris.’

The Chevalier bent over her hand and she had the full impact of a pair of limpid brown eyes lighting up a handsome face.

‘Magnifique, mademoiselle,’ he said with a smile as he lifted her hand to his lips while keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

Julia felt his flattery was somewhat excessive, nevertheless it gave her a frisson of pleasure.

‘I was unaware you were acquainted with Philip Illingham, Alain?’ said Arbuthnot quizzically.

‘Indeed, until tonight I had not had that pleasure, nor la belle Vicomtesse,’ answered the Frenchman looking toward the dance floor where Arabella was dancing with the Lord Lieutenant of the county. ‘I am staying as a guest of Lord Hudson, who is a neighbour of Vicomte Illingham who most kindly included me in tonight’s ball. I had the pleasure in Baden-Baden last month to meet the Vicomte’s father, le Comte of Rosyth. He was having the spa baths to improve his health.’

Julia’s ears pricked up at this. She had wondered where the ‘wicked earl’ was. Rumour had it that he had fled the country to avoid creditors, though Arabella’s huge dowry had certainly lessened that load.

‘His health is not good. Vicomte Illingham told me his father is now at Plombieres in the country, where he is taking the waters.’

Julia opened her eyes wide at this. Plombieres was known as a spa town for women trying to get with child. The late Empress Josephine had made it most fashionable among the ton. Unlike Baden-Baden, it did not have a gambling casino, and for a moment she wondered if the ‘wicked earl’ had gone there on purpose to meet members of the fair sex.

‘This is my dance, I believe,’ Colonel Fortescue appeared at Julia’s elbow ready to claim her. Introductions were made, and the Chevalier bowed gracefully, the Colonel stiffly.

‘Damn Frenchies,’ the Colonel muttered as they moved out of earshot, ‘why don’t they stay at home.’

Julia gave him an arch look, and he grinned like a naughty schoolboy as they began the dance. His face soon took on a more serious mien as he concentrated on the intricate steps of a country-dance.

It was Mortimer who claimed her for supper. He led her through the adjoining rooms off the gallery, which had been festooned with flowers. They joined Sir George Nugent and Lady Cecily who were already seated and enjoying the many tempting dishes; with Lord and Lady Reefton looking on indulgently at this display of hearty appetites.

Much to Julia’s surprise the Colonel and Arbuthnot soon joined them, and had just seated themselves when Isabella Furnbridge swept by looking soignée in pearl grey silk and diamonds.

‘I trust you are enjoying yourself Julia?’ said Lady Furnbridge with a mischievous twinkle. ‘I see you have collected a band of cavaliers to have supper with.’

Julia felt flustered for a moment but knowing that Isabella was only teasing her, said, ‘I think they feel quite safe with an old spinster like me.’

There was a chorus of disavowals from the group of ‘cavaliers,’ and Mortimer gallantly gave Isabella his chair, then the gentlemen went to fetch plates of food and glasses of punch for the ladies and themselves.

‘I am delighted this evening has gone so well,’ said Isabella watching another group of happy revellers enter the supper room. ‘It is so important for Philip that he and Arabella are seen as being the new order here at Sharnborough, and to be feted and admired by their neighbours and peers.’

‘Arabella looks breathtakingly lovely,’ said Julia. ‘She could not help but be admired.’

‘She does indeed,’ said Isabella happily. ‘Her disposition is so modest and true, you could not fail to love and honour her.’

Julia felt sunken in gloom for a moment, but acknowledged the truth of Isabella’s words, and inwardly chastised herself for her meanness of spirit.

The gentlemen returned with supper and the conversation ceased as they enjoyed the food, when Julia became aware of someone beside her, and looked up to find the Chevalier d’Augusseau smiling down at her.

‘May I beg the pleasure of a dance, Mademoiselle Farraday?’ he asked. ‘That is if they are not all taken.’

She passed him her card knowing there were several spaces left, and with a flourish he wrote in his name.

‘I shall look forward to it,’ and he gave a slight bow and withdrew.

‘My dear Julia,’ said Isabella confidentially. ‘You are proving to be much admired yourself.’

She could not help but feel pleased, but said, ‘I know he is a stranger here, who does not know many ladies present, and having been introduced by Mr Arbuthnot, he was kind enough to ask me.’

Lady Furnbridge gave her a knowing smile and continued with her supper.

When the Chevalier claimed her for the dance, Julia found it was the waltz. Trepidation seized her, but she need not have worried, as he was an excellent dancer and their steps matched well. She held her train up in her gloved hand, and relaxed confidently to the lilting strains of the music as he held her in his arms.

Memories flooded back of another ball, another waltz, and another pair of dark brown eyes, certainly not as gentle as these looking at her. She thought of Stephen, and wished he could have been here with her, and wondered if their steps would have matched as well together as the Chevalier’s.

‘Do you live close by, Mademoiselle?’

‘No, I live in a small village called Winchelsea on the south coast in the county of Sussex.’

He looked at her directly. ‘I believe I have heard of that name before. Is it far from London?’

‘A full day’s travel,’ she answered.

‘Do you ever come up to London?’

‘Not often. Though I was there in September to attend a wedding.’

‘Such a shame. I will be in London for another two weeks and I would have been delighted to call upon you, however…’ he smiled gently, ‘it is not to be.’

She had no answer to that, but felt instinctively she would very much like to see him again, despite the fact that she knew nothing about him except he was French, probably a Roman Catholic, and could be a penniless adventurer.

‘Do you happen to know a Madame Fouquet who resides in London?’ Julia blurted the words out before she had time to think.

Alain d’Augusseau’s eyes widened in amazement. ‘Why, yes… as it happens Mademoiselle, I do.’

At that moment the music stopped, and Julia’s mind was in a whirl of mixed emotions. Not for one minute had she contemplated that he would know Lenore, and for the life of her she couldn’t think why she had asked him. But he did know Lenore.

‘How do you know Madame Fouquet,’ he asked candidly as he escorted her across the room.

Julia’s mind raced. She could not possibly tell him the truth, and instead said, ‘Madame Fouquet was staying for a time with an acquaintance of mine in Winchelsea.’

‘Ahhh. That is possibly where I have heard that name,’ he gave a wry smile, as he tightened his grip on her arm.

‘How do you know Madame Fouquet, Chevalier?’ Julia demanded.

‘Oh, I met the lady, being a countrywoman of mine, through mutual friends, and I have had the pleasure in London to attend one of her card parties,’ he answered smoothly.

Before she could question him further, the Colonel bore down upon them with Isabella Furnbridge.

‘That was a pretty sight,’ said Isabella, ‘I almost wish I was young enough to dance again, when I see a couple dance so divinely.’

The Chevalier bowed his head in acknowledgement, and the Colonel glowered.

‘Give me a good old fashioned country dance any day, to that new-fangled nonsense,’ he expostulated.

Arabella wafted up looking as beautiful and serene as when the evening first started.

‘Have you all had supper? Please to help yourselves,’ and she wafted her fan in the direction of the supper room.

‘We have already done so, Arabella,’ answered the Colonel, ‘and very fine it was too.’

Lord Hudson joined them, and claimed the Chevalier, who was led away leaving Julia with a sense of a discontent for what she felt was unfinished business; she would have liked to question him further about Lenore.

Mortimer claimed her for the boulange, and when she looked for the Chevalier at the end of the dance, he had obviously departed with his host.

Julia regretted that he had gone without a farewell, and thought ruefully that it was such a shame that often the most interesting people were often those one met casually at social functions such as this, and then never met them again.

Little did Julia know just how wrong this was going to prove to be.