A Michaelmas Wager

by Emily Murdoch

The sunlight that poured through the gap in the curtains did not wake Juliana Honeyfield up. She had barely slept, and by the time that she had heard the hour of five chimed on the clocks throughout the house, her eyes had barely closed.

  Today. Who could possibly have known that it would be the eighth of July? Who could have known that it would have happened at all?

  There were no guarantees in life, but Juliana was quietly confident. As she lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling that she had known intimately for years, she suddenly thought that she was not always going to be staring up at it. Soon, sooner perhaps than she could have predicted, she would be looking up at a completely different ceiling. And she would not be alone in observing it.

  A flush moved across her cheeks. To even think such things, before she was engaged to be married! But surely it would be mere hours before that happened; what else could Rufus Lovell be about to ask her?

  Unable to stay in bed a moment longer, Juliana swung her legs over the side of the bed, and after throwing her knitted shawl over her shoulders, wandered downstairs. There was a moment of stillness that was to be savoured before the rest of the household woke up - and she wasn't quite ready yet to share with Audrey, close as they were, what she knew was going to occur that afternoon.

  The house was still, silent, stifling. She threw open a window in the breakfast room and took in a deep breath. This was to be the last morning that she would be unattached, and she was going to relish it.

  As she settled down into her favourite chair with a good book, the clock on the mantelpiece chimed six times. It was still at least two hours before either her father or her cousin would emerge from their respective bedrooms, so there was plenty of time for Juliana to read, and then would come breakfast, and then luncheon, and then . . .

  A loud knock on the front door was the only sound that Juliana could hear, but it disturbed her thoughts like a gunshot. A knock? At this time? Who on earth could even be thinking of being abroad at this hour?

  Juliana nestled under her shawl happily, and waited for Charlotte to answer the door, but it was not the sound of the door opening that next reached her ears, but another knock. And then a third.

  Whoever it was seemed insistent of being admitted, and Juliana sighed. Book cast aside, she stood up and her bare feet patted across the hallway to the front door.

  In hindsight, Juliana should have known that no good news could come to anyone's door before respectable hours. She should have known that opening the door to anyone in her nightdress with naught but a shawl covering her was a mistake. She should have known that Charlotte was the best person to answer the door.

  But hindsight is a wonderful thing, and not a gift that Juliana had. The door was opened, and it revealed a very beautiful, rather bedraggled, and irate looking woman standing outside.

  "About time!" She said in a huff. "I didn't think he would keep you up so, but here you are, finally. Is he awake?"

  Juliana blinked slightly at the brightness of the day, and tried to take in all that the woman had said. "I am afraid that my father is still asleep, Miss . . ?"

  The woman laughed. "I highly doubt he's your father, missy, or else you are a lot younger than you look! Come on now, there's no shame between us women. I know what you've been up to, and I bear you no ill will for it - but I was there first, and by rights he's mine, and you know it."

  Nothing that the woman seemed to be saying made sense, and Juliana clutched at what she knew was the correct order of a conversation.

  "I am sorry," she said abruptly, "but I do not know your name. I am Juliana Honeyfield, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

  The woman raised an eyebrow. "Oh are you, indeed? Well, with a fancy name like that I'm sure you can afford to be. I'm Mabel, but of course you've heard of me."

  She smiled, pride in her voice and arrogance in her eyes, but Juliana just stared. "Mabel?"

  The pride faltered. "He hasn't mentioned me?"

  Juliana shook her head slightly, pulling her shawl around her more closely as a feeling of self-consciousness started to creep over her. "My father has many friends, I must apologise if I do not recall his mentioning you. However, he should be up soon if - "

  "Lord woman, haven't I told you that I don't want your father?" Mabel snapped. "I told you, I'm here for my man. I'm his mistress, not you, and I'm here to claim my place once more."

  A feeling of relief washed over Juliana. "Oh, I see. I am ever so sorry, Mabel, but you have come to the wrong house. No other man lives here save my father, so as you can see, there has been a mistake."

  "Mistake?" Mabel shook her head, and Juliana noticed the tired grey rings that encircled her eyes for the first time. "No mistake, miss. I've been in France since . . . well, just before Christmas perhaps? I told him, I said I would be back by Easter, and I'm not offended that he's taken up with you in my absence, but I'm back now, and I'm here for my rights."

  Juliana flushed. To be mistaken for - well, for what Mabel was, a mistress! It was not to be borne, but she supposed that if she had knocked on a door to find it opened by a woman in her nightclothes, she may have made assumptions too.

  "Now I know he's here," Mabel continued, unaware of or ignoring the look of shock and embarrassment on Juliana's face. "I asked at his club, see, and I was told that he comes here most regular like. I'll go away now, if you want, if you need to settle accounts with him and all, but if you could give him my address I would be much obliged. I went to his rooms, but they're all closed up."

  "No, no you don't understand," said Juliana, trying to get a hold of the conversation which was rapidly running away from her. "I'm not a man's - I'm not anyone's lover, Mabel. I don't know who you are talking about, but he hasn't been here."

  Mabel sniffed. "You can try it as much as you like, Miss Juliana, if that is your real name. I know that my man has been here, and I know that he's only been paying you whatever attentions he has because he's been bored. He's been waiting for me, hasn't he? You just tell your Mr Lovell that Mabel is back in town."

  It was as though the very heart that usually beat quite happily in her chest had been ripped out and cast onto the floor, so deep was the pain that wrenched through Juliana's body and soul. She blinked, and each time her eyes opened once more she seemed to be blinded by light. This wasn't happening. This wasn't possible. This wasn't real.

  "I see by your face that you do know Mr Lovell," said Mabel, a bitter and mean merriment in her voice. "And I see that he has not mentioned me at all. Well, that's as how he is, I suppose. Happy to talk about his parents, willing to talk about his brother even, but never one to whisper secrets about the mistress that he takes to his bed."

  Juliana's mouth opened, but no words came out. How could she have been so stupid? What had she thought Rufus had seen in her? Of course it was all too good to be true, how could she have been so blind?

  There was a cough, and her eyes focused on Mabel.

  "I'm happy to wait here for him," said the woman who had just ruined all her hopes and happiness in five minutes. "I know he'll be glad to see me, and you may find it easier to say goodbye to him if you see him leave with a woman who makes him truly happy."

  "You may leave now," said Juliana, her voice rediscovered and with a flinty harshness that it had never contained before. "And I would appreciate it, Mabel, if you see Mr Lovell would you give him a message from me?"

  Mabel shrugged. "No skin off my back."

  Juliana had kept her eyes dry up until this point, but with each passing moment it was getting more and more difficult. "Tell him . . . tell him that I am sorry I ever confused him with an honourable man."

  Mabel was almost certainly going to reply, but Juliana did not give her the time. She had already taken a step backwards, and slammed the door between them.

  Do not cry, she told herself as she stood, stunned, in the hallway. Do not give him the satisfaction of making you feel this way. But it did not seem possible to turn off her soul, was not possi
ble to remove all of her thoughts and feelings. She was a woman with a heart, one that she had been about to happily hand over to him - and he had broken it, even without being in her presence.

  Juliana had probably been standing for around ten minutes before there was another knock on the door. Or was it the memory of the knock that had already happened?

  Another knock. A third. A fourth. There was definitely someone at the door again, but if Juliana had to open it to Mabel, or worse, another woman like her, then she would lose all control and weep out the hurt and pain that was burning up her stomach.

  Another knock at the door. It was quite clear that the individual on the other side of it, whoever they were, were not going to leave until that same door was opened.

  She took a deep breath, and opened the door. Expecting and dreading to see Mabel, Juliana was confused to see that instead there was a gentleman outside; a gentleman in full coat and hat, with a smile on his face that made her feel like a rabbit about to be taken by a dog.

  "Yes?" She managed, heart still pounding. "Can I help you?"

  "Miss Honeyfield," he said with a bow, "I was hoping that it would be you to open the door. It makes things so much simpler."

  There must be something wrong with her, Juliana decided. Surely there must be something wrong with her, or the day itself. What was happening?

  "I am sorry," she found herself saying, "but I do not believe that we are acquainted."

  "My apologies," said the man, taking off his hat and holding it with an easy air. "You have undoubtedly heard of me, of course, but you probably cannot put the face to the name. I am Nicholas Wingrave."

  He paused, waiting for a dawning of understanding to dazzle across Juliana's face. It did not.

  "I'm sorry, but I do not recognise the name," said Juliana slowly. "Ought I?"

  Nicholas Wingrave's smile faltered slightly, but it did not completely disappear. "Well no, I suppose - it is perhaps an irrelevant detail to the story, but I had assumed that it had been passed on nonetheless. You cannot be at a loss to know why I am here, Miss Honeyfield, and so I shall get straight to it: I am willing to not only match Lovell's offer, but exceed it. What do you say to that?"

  Juliana stared open mouthed. "Match his offer - exceed it?" Was the man mad? Rufus Lovell had not even proposed marriage to her yet, and there was already another man on her front doorstep before the hour of seven in the morning ready to try and exceed it? What madness was this?

  "I know, it seems a lot," said Mr Wingrave with a smile, "but really, it is not that much to me, and I would gain far more pleasure out of it than young Lovell. After all, it's been a lot of work for the two of you, and I feel as though it would be far more beneficial to cut to the chase."

  That's it, thought Juliana. There is no sense in the world left.

  "So what do you say?"

  Juliana swallowed. "Mr Wingrave, I don't even know you!"

  "Goodness me girl, you don't have to know someone!" Nicholas Wingrave snorted. "This isn't the 1790s anymore, society has moved on! If you can't accept the money from me, of course, that's your own business, but I rather thought that it would be more difficult to say no . . . to fifteen guineas!"

  He said this last part with a sense of triumph that was completely lost on Juliana. "Fifteen guineas?" she repeated. "Mr Wingrave, are you sure that you have the right house?"

  "Right house?" Mr Wingrave looked confused. "Don't care about the house, it's you I need to talk to. Look, I know that old Lovell has probably told you all the details about our wager, and I can tell you, it wasn't made lightly. I really will have to pay him the full twenty guineas if he marries you before Michaelmas! He's probably told you that he'll split the full amount with you, giving you ten guineas - but I'll give you fifteen to throw him and leave him unmarried by September 29th, saving me money, costing him the full twenty, and leaving you free to marry whoever you want." He stared at her as though seeing her for the first time, and a smile moved slowly over his lips as he took in her state of undress. "Although if you've bedded him already, perhaps you'd rather get married and keep yourself honest."

  "Bedded - wager - Michaelmas?" Juliana spluttered. Her cheeks were burning and though her shawl had dropped from one shoulder, she was too outraged by his words to notice. "You mean to tell me that Rufus - that Mr Lovell and you have a wager on, and that it concerns me?"

  Nicholas Wingrave laughed. "You can dissemble all you like, Miss Honeyfield, you must know all about it. How else could it all be going so well? Lovell is a nice boy, but he's a Lovell: no one, no woman would be seriously considering him as a suitor unless there was something else for them to gain!"

  Juliana felt as though the world had stopped moving under her feet, and was instead falling downwards, so quickly and so violently that she thought she was going to be sick. Rufus Lovell had been wagered twenty guineas to marry her by Michaelmas. Why was she not surprised? Perhaps she may have been before this morning, but one conversation with Mabel seemed to reveal far more of Rufus Lovell's personality than the weeks that she had spent supposedly getting to know him.

  "Now I usually play fair," Nicholas Wingrave was still talking, "but it's a matter of principle; Lovell shouldn't really win a wager that difficult, not at first. We've got to break him in gently into the group, you see? Soon we'll have him eating out of the palms of our hands, and that's when he can win a few. As long as he keeps losing, what do we care? So fifteen guineas, in your hands, by the end of the day. Are we agreed?"

  Juliana stood in shock, and for a moment she was convinced that she had answered.

  "Miss Honeyfield?"

  "Leave now." The words were only said in a whisper, but the anger behind them was more than enough for Nicholas Wingrave to pick up on them. "And take your filthy money with you. I don't need to be bribed to refuse a man who respects me so little."

  And for the second time that morning, Juliana Honeyfield stood back from the door, and slammed it. And then the tears that had been kept at bay for so long finally overwhelmed her, and she fell to the floor sobbing, each tear a burning reminder of the betrayal that she had just endured.