by Abby Ayles
“That seems spiteful,” Juliana commented.
“If I am spiteful, it is because of the spite with which you have treated me,” the Duchess declared. “Your own mother! Two daughters and a son successfully wed, and only one left to haunt me in my old age!”
“I shall haunt you no more if you like. Perhaps you would prefer to send me off to live with my Aunt, your sister? Mrs. Reffern is all alone in this world, after all!”
The Duchess reeled as if slapped. “And you dare to use that against her!” she said.
“Believe me, Mrs. Reffern had not the opportunities that you have been given. If John Woode should have proposed to her, she would have snatched him up in an instant!”
“John Woode did not propose to me,” Juliana pointed out, not unreasonably.
“He did not propose because you are a spiteful, vicious, lazy, vindictive girl,” the Duchess yelled.
“I will not hear another word from you – not one more word this week entire! You remain here – don’t you dare come out – I will not hear or see you!”
With that, the Duchess slammed the door to Juliana’s chamber closed, and left her quite alone.
Juliana could not prevent bitter tears from sliding down her face. She felt exceedingly sorry for herself and did not feel that it was arrogant or indulgent to do so.
In short order, she had been forbidden from marrying her love, discovered that his path to becoming worthy of her family had been derailed, lost both her intended husband and best friend, and was now being shunned by her own family.
That was all not to mention the hurtful things that her mother had said, and continued to say.
Finally, to be shut into her own room for a week as punishment was just the cherry on top of the cake. How could she even bear it?
She was to discover the answer to that question soon enough, as her mother stayed true to her word.
The Duchess posted a maid outside Juliana’s room at all times, who was to tell the girl she could not go outside whenever she so much as cracked open her door.
Juliana supposed that she could have rebelled and flung the door wide and run out onto the wide lawns, but she was sure that the maid would have suffered for it.
They brought her food and baths into the room, and helped her to change her clothes, and emptied her privy pot for her. Life continued just as normal, with the exception of the fact that she remained inside four cloistered walls for that whole time, and saw not a bit of her mother or step-father.
She was several days into this punishment when a letter arrived, snuck in by the maid, with Mary’s neat handwriting on the front. Juliana nearly wept as she tore open the envelope, and even more so as she read what was inside.
My dearest friend,
Juliana, I am so sorry that you could not make it to our wedding. It would have been the most wonderful thing to have you there, as my truest and dearest friend. I suppose the Duke and Duchess would not allow you, so I forgive all.
I only wish you had seen it! There was much festivity, and I do not think I have been the center of so much attention in my whole life entire. I stood with Lord Ascot – now my Lord Ascot – and we exchanged our solemn vows before God.
I am so happy! I have never felt this way in all my life. John showers me with such attention and ensures that I have all I need.
We have returned to live with the Dowager Baroness for a short while, but within the month we will relocate to our new parish. I will enclose the new address along with this letter so that you may write to me in return, or visit me when you are able.
There is an open invitation for you, my dear! John knows how much I favor your company, and he bears no ill will towards you, even though you did call him dull and boring.
He says that you are welcome in our home at any time. By then I shall be the wife of a clergyman and baron! Can you believe it?
I never thought I should marry at all, at some times. I thought I should be a lonely old spinster and watch you grow old and happy with your children.
I am so glad this picture will not come to pass. When you are married, our children will play together and become the firmest friends.
I hope I will be invited to your wedding, even though you could not attend mine!
I am looking forward to becoming mistress of my own household. For the next several weeks I shall observe the Dowager Baroness, and see all that she does in managing her staff.
We will not have such a large staff – a very small one indeed – but if I may lead them with one-tenth of her authority, we are sure to do well.
Until we can meet again, I hope you will favor me with your letters. I am missing you so already. You have been my constant companion these years and I am so grateful for it.
Yours waiting for a return to our friendship,
The new Lady Ascot
The sight of Mary’s new married name made Juliana burst into tears, and she was filled with such regret that she had not been able to accompany her on her wedding day.
What a sight it must have been! Juliana would have dearly loved to have seen her dress, and the way she wore her hair, and the flowers.
She raised her tear-stained face to the window again, one of her favorite habits now since it was her only outlet to the outside world. She thought of all that she had said and done and felt a little ashamed of herself.
Had she not been selfish, all this time? A better friend might have guessed that Mary had her own designs on John Woode, and was dreaming of marrying him.
A better friend might have talked of a subject other than herself, and allowed Mary to discuss her own thoughts and opinions.
And Mary was the best friend of them all, to bear it all so sweetly and remain by her side.
Juliana took out a pen and parchment and wrote a swift reply, though once it was done, she began to wish she had taken longer about it.
It was something that could break up the boredom; but it being done, she was again left without any meaningful or constructive way to pass the time.
She lay back on her bed, and stared up at the ceiling. There, instead of seeing the white expanse above her head, she saw pictures drawn directly from her mind.
At first, she tried to picture Mary in a fine dress and standing before an altar, but this image quickly began to pale in interest since she could not know how the real thing had looked.
Then her thoughts turned to Christopher, as they always did; and she pictured herself this time, and the image stuck.
Juliana imagined him sitting down at the breakfast table with eggs and fruit, and herself beside him. She imagined him reading the paper, in smart clothes because he was on leave.
Juliana allowed her mind to continue to wander, and she saw herself walking with Christopher, walking through some small town.
Children dashed to and fro amongst the streets, and there was an inordinate number of soldiers around: they were by his barracks.
She had her arm through the crook of his elbow and they stopped at a roadside stall, where he purchased a pretty yet cheap trinket for her pleasure only.
Juliana shifted in her bed, turning on her side, and closed her eyes to picture Christopher laying there beside her. He wore his uniform, as he always did, because it was the only thing she had ever seen him wearing, but in his eyes was a look of great affection that no one could mistake this was their marriage bed.
Juliana felt her cheeks heat, even alone, with the intense happiness such an image brought upon her. All they had to do was make it real, and she knew that that happiness would be theirs beyond measure.
But making it real was proving such a difficult thing to do.
Juliana was certain of one thing: they would be man and wife, somewhere, somehow, she knew not when. But it would happen. She could not bear to think of that marital bliss that now enveloped Mary being denied to her, and denied to Christopher too.
Was there any justice in a world which allowed them to be apart for even one more second?
&nbs
p; Though, she had heard that absence made the heart grow fonder; and so she resolved to see this momentary separation in a positive light. It would only make him dream of her, as she dreamed of him, which was all the more guarantee they would be together one day.
Chapter 32
“I have done nothing of the sort,” Jasper declared, his face the very picture of shocked and offended innocence.
“Hardwicke here says differently,” the Major said. “So, Captain. How will we get to the bottom of this one?”
“By dismissing Hardwicke,” Jasper answered immediately. “The man is impertinent.”
“The man was a close friend of yours at one time, was he not?” the Major countered.
“At one time, perhaps,” Jasper conceded. “But no more. His bitterness at my rise above his station has no doubt clouded his mind. I would be tempted to forgive, but we cannot go easy on those who would seek to destroy our army from within.”
The Major considered him quietly for a moment, then swung his gaze back to Christopher. “What say you?” he asked.
“I say nothing, Major,” Christopher said, simply. “The truth will out. Captain Rivers has a reputation already.”
The Major drew a folded letter out from the interior of his red jacket, and held it in one hand as he paced back and forward between them. “Do you know what this is, officers?”
“No, sir,” they both echoed, glancing at one another in distaste to find that they even shared the same response.
“This is a letter,” the Major said, with the grand air of a preacher beginning a sermon. “It is a letter that I received just this morning. Might I read an excerpt to you?”
“As you wish, sir,” Christopher muttered, at the same time as Jasper inclined his head in acquiescence – though there was a jerky nature to his movements. Perhaps, Christopher thought, a reluctance.
“Let’s see,” the Major said, unfolding the paper and fitting a monocle to his right eye.
“Most honorable Major… hope this finds you well… ah yes, here we are: ‘My daughter’s reputation has been rendered into the ground by this scoundrel, who even now serves in a higher position bought with my own coin’. Who do you think that may be referring to, Captain Rivers?”
Jasper swallowed visibly, but said nothing.
“Nothing?” the Major asked. “Very well. I will tell you. It is referring to you, Captain Rivers, and it reinforces part of a tale which I have recently heard from Lieutenant Hardwicke and just now recounted to you. Would you have me believe he tells the truth here, yet lies elsewhere?”
“A man may do it,” Jasper retorted.
“A man may,” the Major said, drawing himself up to his full stature. “But a gentleman would not. And you, Captain, have never been a gentleman. Nor will you ever be; for you are dismissed.
“I advise you to go and lose yourself in the wilderness, before we reach a decision on whether you ought to be court-martialled for this.”
Christopher blew out a heavy sigh of relief. Until this moment, though he had hoped for it, he had not truly been able to believe that justice would be done.
Jasper simply stared, his jaw open, his eyes switching between Christopher and the Major as if trying to determine where his appeal should land. None of them said a word, the Major’s pronouncement hanging in the air.
The Major turned on his heel, and rather than wait alone in a room with Jasper, Christopher followed after him.
Clearly, the man felt that Jasper had been given ample time to make his reply; and, having been unable to make one, he was summarily to be ignored.
“Major, if I may,” Christopher said hastily, attempting to catch up with his superior. “There is one other thing.”
The Major gave him a sideways glance. “Be careful, Hardwicke,” he said. “You will notice that I have not yet made the decision to dismiss you. By the skin of your teeth, you remain an officer. Do not tempt me to go further.”
Christopher struggled for a moment with the urge to save himself.
Was the right move to beg, to try to explain himself? To be quiet and hope that the Major forgot his transgressions? What would be most likely to keep him his commission?
But that was not the most important thing here, he reminded himself. There was something else that needed to be done.
“It is regarding Captain Brazen, sir,” Christopher said, ducking his head in deference. “He is in my quarters.”
The Major tipped his head to one side, regarding Christopher. “You intend that I should go and speak with him?”
“If it pleases you, sir,” Christopher said. He had never understood so clearly how it felt for a servant to ask permission of his master; had never grasped that humility and abasement until now. “I do believe he is worthy.”
The Major paused before bursting out into a short, sharp laugh. “You are an amusement to me, lad,” he said. “Did you think I had any other intention except to see him reinstated? At least you have made it easy for me. Come, then. Take me to him.”
Brazen was sitting waiting, precisely where Christopher had left him, on the spare cot.
“Sir,” Christopher said, leaving the door open and stepping aside so that the Major could enter first.
At the sight of them, Brazen straightened his back and shoulders, assuming a true military posture.
He had a modicum of the old pride still left in him, enough to lift his head high. Though he wore dirty rags and was disheveled in appearance, it was still obvious that he was and had always been a soldier.
“I have heard a tale today, the likes of which you would not credit,” the Major said as if he were talking casually to an old friend. “Can you believe that you were the main subject?”
“I can, Major,” Brazen said, lifting his head and meeting the other man’s eye with admirable inner strength.
“The tale goes like this: an idiot attempts to disgrace his senior officer. The officer, being a man of good character and noble bearing, resigns in order to keep his reputation. Does it sound familiar, so far?” the Major asked.
Brazen only inclined his head, indicating for him to continue.
“But the idiot involves a friend who is not quite so brash and reckless, nor as ruthless, as himself. And so, the truth outs; the idiot is brought low,” the Major said. “Could you possibly guess at the ending of this tale?”
“I cannot,” Brazen said, his hollow cheeks and deep-sunk eyes the very picture of the loss of hope that should have burned brightly.
“The officer is reinstated,” the Major said; and then, more gently, seeing the lack of comprehension, he added: “That is you, Captain Brazen. Your position is yours once again.”
There was a long pause before Captain Brazen raised himself up off the cot and made a sharp, smart salute, his gaze raised to the ceiling and his heels clacking together. There was moisture in his eyes, and he said nothing at all.
The Major patted him on the arm, no doubt intended as a gesture of comfort. “At ease,” he said. “I will see you have your quarters returned to you. We should see about a new uniform, also.”
“Thank you, sir,” Brazen managed to gasp out, lowering his arm.
Christopher watched it all, and a feeling welled up inside him that took him quite by surprise.
He had never in his life been quite this sure that he had done the right thing, the absolute right thing, even if it was at the expense of his own future.
He, too, drew himself up into a formal stance, ready to receive whatever punishment would now be meted out.
He deserved it, he knew; and he welcomed it, for his part in the plot which would have laid this courageous man down forever.
“Sir,” Brazen said, finding his tongue again. “If I may. I would like to know if a decision has been made regarding Lieutenant Hardwicke and his involvement in all of this.”
“It has not,” the Major said, thoughtfully, eyeing them both.
“I would like to add a word, if I may, to your deliberations,” Br
azen said.
“Go on,” the Major replied, with a little impatience.
“He has come forward; a thing that must have been difficult to do. While he did take part in an attempt to have me discredited…”
Brazen paused, swallowing down the all-too-recent emotions once more.
“While he did do wrong, he has also now done right in seeing the results of his actions corrected. For that reason, I do not wish for him to be punished. He should keep his commission.”
The Major considered this for a moment, then nodded decisively.