Matilda nodded, waiting for Harriet to continue, but the young woman was silent, twisting the handkerchief she held back and forth in her hands. At length she spoke again.
“I knew he’d be away for almost a year, which… well, it seemed like a lifetime. So, I spent the weeks before his departure trying to get up the courage to say… something. Only I couldn’t. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I bought him a diary to record his travels in and… and I got a friend of mine to draw a likeness of me and… and stuck it between the pages. I thought at least that way he might be reminded of me, from time to time.”
“That’s sweet,” Matilda said, smiling.
Harriet snorted. “It was pointless. I doubt he even knew it was there. To my knowledge he never wrote a word about his travels. Anyway….” she said, taking a deep breath. “It was the day he was due to leave, and I was beside myself. I thought my heart would break at having to be without him for so long, and… and I knew he didn’t even care, except….”
“Except?”
“He was travelling to the port with another young man he knew from school, who was calling for him later that morning. I pitied him that. According to my brother, Peter Winslow was a vile, sneaky creature, but his father was travelling with Jasper as his guide because he had business interests in Russia, and Jasper was staying at their house overnight before he sailed. Happily, Peter wasn’t going; his mother said his constitution wasn’t strong enough to endure Russian weather. Just as well, as he’d have made Jasper’s life intolerable… such an oily creature he was. Anyway, I told Jasper that I had a gift for him, and we went for a walk, down to the summerhouse. I made some excuse about having left it there but in truth I wanted to be alone with him….”
Matilda waited, leaning forward with anticipation as she realised she was dying to know what had caused this terrible rift between the two of them, hoping that if she knew she could help them mend it.
“And he was so pleased, far more than the diary warranted and… and the next thing I knew he… he kissed me.” Harriet swallowed, her eyes filling with tears. “It was such a kiss, Matilda, so… so tender, and he told me not to go marrying anyone else while he was gone.” She gave a mirthless laugh and wiped her eyes with the mangled handkerchief. “As if anyone would ever ask me!”
Matilda reached out and took Harriet’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
“Anyway,” Harriet said, shaking off her misery and straightening her spine. “Winslow arrived, and we had to go back to the house. Jasper couldn’t say anything more to me with everyone was around, and I convinced myself that was the only reason he said nothing more. I asked him to write to me and let me know how he was getting on, and I promised to write in return.”
Matilda waited as Harriet gathered her thoughts once more.
“His mother and father were travelling down to wave him off, and Lady St Clair is dreadfully forgetful. Just as they were due to leave, she remembered she’d left the book she’d wanted to take, inside on the consul table. Well, of course she would have asked a maid, but I was getting tearful and trying hard to hide it, so I ran back inside for her to take a moment for myself. As I came back, Jasper and Peter were on the doorstep and the door was ajar, they didn’t know I was there.”
Matilda waited, a sudden tightness in her throat.
“Peter made some remark about me being a strange creature, about me having always followed Jasper about like a puppy and asking if he had any interest there and Jasper, he… he gave this odd laugh, as though Peter were mad for thinking such a thing. Then he looked back at Peter and his voice was so cold, his expression full of disgust. Don’t be ridiculous, he said, as if I’d be interested in Harriet, and he walked off down the stairs.”
“Oh, Harriet.” Matilda got to her knees in front of her and held her hand as the girl dissolved into tears.
With a tremendous effort of will Harriet calmed herself once more.
“I’ll never forget the way he said it, Matilda. With such disdain! As though Peter was a fool for even considering he could have any interest in me. I told myself that he hadn’t meant it, though it certainly sounded like he had. I told myself that he was just irritated with Peter, and I waited for him to write to me. If he felt anything for me, surely he’d write, wouldn’t he?”
“One would imagine so,” Matilda agreed, nodding.
“I waited and waited, determined that I’d not write to him until he’d sent me a letter. If he wrote to me, I’d reply and ask him why he’d spoken so to Peter, but he never did, Matilda. Not once. He was away almost a whole year, and he never once wrote to me… but that wasn’t the worst of it.”
“Oh, Lord,” Matilda said with feeling.
Harriet returned a wan smile. “I saw Peter two months later. He was full of news of Jasper, having heard from his father, you see. He seemed to delight in telling me how popular Jasper was with the ladies, and some truly shocking stories about him, things one ought never discuss with a lady, but it was certainly clear that Jasper was not pining away for me.”
“I’m so sorry, Harriet.”
Harriet shrugged. “At least I knew. Better that I’d discovered it then, rather than sitting about waiting for him to come home and ask my father’s permission to court me, when that was clearly not on his mind. By the time he returned, I’d resolved to forget him and concentrate on my studies. As far as my father would allow me, anyway.” She gave a heavy sigh. “Now I think perhaps Jasper thought he was being kind,” she said, her expression perplexed. “Kitty made me reconsider his actions and I’ve been trying to do as she asked. With the benefit of hindsight, I’ve come to believe he thought it was a sweet thing to do, giving me my first kiss, for I never knew him to be cruel before that, and surely he knew I was infatuated. Perhaps he thought it a good moment, when he would be gone for so long. I’ve been trying to forgive him for it. He wasn’t to know how badly he hurt me, how many nights I cried myself to sleep after he’d gone.”
Matilda’s heart twisted at the confusion in Harriet’s eyes, knowing the poor girl had been thinking about this and puzzling it out for years and years.
“And when he returned?”
Harriet looked away, staring at the fire. “I avoided him. I went to visit my aunt in Scotland a few weeks before he was due to return. Everyone assumed I’d be back for the big event, but I pretended to be ill, and my aunt is rather a hypochondriac herself, so it wasn’t hard to persuade her I was too unwell to travel. I didn’t see him for months after that, as we were both away for various reasons, and when I finally saw him I all but ignored him and… and we ended up as we are now.”
“But did he never ask you why?” Matilda demanded.
“Of course,” Harriet said, nodding. “But I could never bring myself to tell him I’d heard what he said. I’d been so humiliated, knowing he’d just been playing with me. God, he must have been amused by how I fell into his arms. I practically swooned. So, I pretended it had been a silly infatuation and that I’d grown out of it.”
“But it wasn’t silly, was it, Harriet? And you’re still in love with him.”
Harriet closed her eyes and nodded. “I tried so hard, Matilda. I tried so hard to stop loving him. He’s not the boy I fell in love with any longer, is he? He’s a grown man and I don’t know him at all. We don’t have the least thing in common. I’m plain and I love learning, he looks like a fallen angel and despises it. Why on earth would he want me? Why do I want him? He hurt me so very badly and I’ve hated him for it, and I don’t understand how I can hate someone and love them at the same time. It’s illogical.”
Matilda gave her a wry smile. “Illogical it may be, but not impossible, I assure you.”
Harriet returned a quizzical look and Matilda hurried the conversation on. “So, what happened last night?”
There was a heartfelt groan of misery, and Matilda waited for what would come next.
“I allowed myself to soften a little, to accept Kitty’s advice and put the past behind
us, to forgive him, and that—together with the brandy soaked punch and that stupid bloody dare—well….” Harriet threw up her hands in despair. “And just look at the mess I’m in now!”
***
Jerome watched his brother as he poured himself another drink. That had to be his second in ten minutes, which was most unlike him.
“Steady on, Jasper,” he said, amused at being the one to have said it. The boot was generally on the other foot.
His older brother turned and glared at him but said nothing, raising the glass to his lips.
Jerome shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me if you’re foxed at dinner, but Mother will be furious, and I’d say you’re in enough trouble.”
“Well, I figured it was my turn,” Jasper muttered, giving Jerome an impatient glance before turning away.
“Can’t deny it, I suppose. You’re dashed near respectable these days. A regular dull dog. Well, until this morning’s excitement, anyway. Such a scandal, Jaz, really! I didn’t know you had it in you, and with Harriet, of all people.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Jerome paused, taken aback by the fury of his brother’s words. “Well,” he said carefully, watching Jasper with interest. “If it had been Miss Hunt or Miss Butler, I’d not have been so surprised, but Harry? She’s—”
“She’s what?” Jasper snapped, his posture rigid.
Jerome blinked, startled. “Sensible,” he said at last. “A bluestocking, and practically our sister. What were you thinking?”
Jasper’s jaw tightened and Jerome didn’t think he’d answer.
“She’s not our sister,” he replied tersely, but at least looking less as if he would give Jerome a black eye.
“Well, no, not technically, but… but if she’s already engaged to this de Beauvoir fellow, and he doesn’t care what’s gone on, why are you fighting so hard to marry her?”
“Because he’s a cold bastard who only cares for what Harriet can do for his career. He’ll never give a damn for her besides whatever that terrifying brain of hers can do. He’ll never look to her comfort, never worry if she’s happy or not. I won’t stand for it. She deserves better.”
“Isn’t that her decision, though?” Jerome pressed, looking at his brother anew. “And since when do you care? The two of you have been at daggers drawn for bloody years. I thought it was your life’s work to antagonise her, and now you’re so worried for her happiness you’re ready to marry her? My God, Jasper, you’ll kill each other within a sennight.”
“Shut up, Jerome. You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Jerome shrugged. “No surprise there, but I wish you’d explain it to me all the same.”
“I tell you what. I’ll explain what’s going on with Harriet, if you tell me what you’re playing at with Bonnie Campbell.”
The dinner gong sounded at that precise moment and Jerome let out a breath of relief and sprang to his feet.
“Saved by the bell,” he said with a smirk, and hurried out of the door towards the dining room.
Bonnie was not a subject he wanted to touch on with his brother. Jasper was reading far too much into it. Bonnie was a lively girl with a smart mouth and a nose for trouble. She was also a great deal of fun… more so than anyone he’d ever met. He wasn’t offering anything but friendship, though, and she knew it as well as he did. He’d been very upfront about it and she’d laughed and told him she knew exactly what he was offering and what he wasn’t. She’d even made a great joke about how scandalised the ton would be if he married a little Scottish nobody with no breeding and worse manners.
So, why shouldn’t they enjoy each other’s company? Especially now, when everyone was gone and there were no old tabbies disapproving of the two of them… well, apart from Jasper. Once upon a time, Jerome had idolised Jasper and very much modelled himself upon his big brother. He was the life and soul of any party, beloved by all—except the masters at school—and a devilish one with the ladies.
In recent years, he’d become increasingly circumspect, with only occasional glimpses of the outrageous young man he’d once been. On those occasions, Jerome had the unsettling feeling that Jasper was at his most unhappy. Not that they’d spoken about it. One didn’t talk to one’s brother about… about feelings. God forbid. Still, there was a nagging sensation tugging at him and Jerome wondered if it might be his conscience. He wasn’t entirely certain, because it rarely troubled him, but perhaps he ought to find out what was wrong with Jasper. After all, the fellow seemed to delight in sticking his nose into Jerome’s affairs.
He saw no reason at all not to return the favour.
Chapter 9
What on earth have I done?
Why on earth did I let him rile me?
I should never have agreed to this ridiculous… outrageous… scandalous idea.
Oh, heavens. What am I to do? I can’t back down, but if I go…
―Excerpt of an entry from Miss Harriet Stanhope to her diary.
31st August 1814. Holbrooke House, Sussex.
“Of course we’ll not say anything,” Ruth said, though her eyes were still wide with shock.
Minerva didn’t blame her. Harriet and Jasper? She thought Harriet loathed Jasper. Though, thinking about it now, she supposed that could be the spark of attraction.
“We’ll pretend we don’t know what’s happened,” Minerva agreed, giving Matilda a reassuring smile as they pulled on their gloves and prepared to go down to what was bound to be a very awkward evening.
“What on earth is the point of that?” Bonnie said, rolling her eyes. “They’ll all know we do know. How could we not? I’m not saying we should speak about it, but we can at least show Harriet our support, not pretend we’re blind to the mammoth-sized scandal sitting on the doorstep.”
Matilda nodded her agreement. “Yes, Bonnie is correct. There’s no point in pretending you don’t know, only do try to be discreet. Poor Harriet is so upset. I don’t think she’ll come down for dinner in any case. She certainly didn’t intend to when I saw her earlier.”
“Imagine, though,” Bonnie said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “A night with Jasper Cadogan. Lucky girl.”
Minerva bit her lip as Ruth gasped with shock and Matilda glowered a little.
“Not entirely appropriate, Bonnie.”
“Sorry,” Bonnie replied, looking quite unrepentant. “But you said she was engaged to some other chap? Who is he? Do we know him? And why hadn’t she told us?”
“I believe she only accepted the engagement a few weeks ago, though he offered for her last summer. Apparently, they’ve been corresponding for almost three years.”
“Goodness, Harriet is a dark horse,” Bonnie said with approval.
Matilda shook her head and gave Bonnie a despairing glance. “These were not billet doux, but an exchange of intellectual ideas and theories. There was nothing the least romantic about it, from what Harriet said.”
Bonnie grimaced. “Well, what’s he like, then?”
“I’ve no idea. I was out when he visited the house this morning.”
“Oh, yes,” Minerva put in. “Henry said you came back looking like a drowned rat. Did you get caught in that dreadful storm, you poor thing? Happily, it had finished by the time we left Ruth’s aunt’s house.”
Matilda flushed for no reason Minerva could fathom. “Oh, I got a little wet. Nothing to signify. Now, then,” she continued, gesturing for them all to hurry. “There goes the dinner gong, so we’d best go down.”
The ladies made their way down the stairs, and Minerva admitted to some trepidation for the meal ahead. She hated it when there was tension in the air but the talk was all polite nothings, and no one dared say anything of consequence. Still, she was hungry and there was little point in pretending otherwise. She’d finally taken Prue’s advice and stopped dieting so drastically, and it was so lovely to enjoy a good meal and not watch everyone else tucking in while she barely touched her own. Besides which, Bonnie was right. They ou
ght to support Harriet, whether or not she was there, and they could not do that if they did not appear.
Lady St Clair greeted them all warmly, as if there was nothing at all the least bit wrong, and they seated themselves for dinner. They were eating in the small dining room this evening, the one the family used when they were not entertaining, which was a relief. It was rather more intimate and a deal less intimidating.
Lady St Clair took her seat at one end of the table whilst St Clair sat at the other. There were no formal seating arrangements, and everyone just sought a chair and then stopped in their tracks as Harriet appeared. She was pale and stiff, but she stood tall and held her head high as she walked to the table. She took the nearest chair by Lady St Clair and to Minerva’s left, as far from St Clair as she could get.
Good for you, Minerva thought, and reached out a hand under the table to take Harriet’s and squeeze. She didn’t know Harriet terribly well, but she hoped the gesture might give the young woman courage. To her relief, Harriet squeezed back before letting her hand go.
“Did I tell you I had a letter from Jemima?” Matilda said to Bonnie, her voice bright and cheerful as she broke the rather stilted silence.
“Oh, no,” Bonnie said, rising at once to the bait, to everyone’s relief. “How is she? Has she explained her disappearance?”
Minerva vaguely remembered Jemima, though she’d only seen her once or twice. She was blonde and pretty in a fragile, somewhat ethereal way. Minerva mostly remembered noticing that the dress she’d worn was several seasons out of fashion, rather too big for her, and had clearly been altered several times already. It occurred to her that perhaps the girl could no longer afford to attend such lavish ton events if she was forced to make do and mend. No doubt she’d been sneered at by many who would look down on her for such things. Minerva felt a swell of relief that she’d not been one of them. She’d acted badly during the earlier part of this season, mostly from desperation, but she had no desire to compound her shame by remembering any unkind words she’d given. At least she was not guilty of that with Jemima.
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