by Anna Macy
There was no Elizabeth at breakfast, and Juliet went about her day, as usual. She wandered down to the stables when she noticed the carriage horses had returned and were gently munching hay in their respective stalls. She tightened her grip on her riding crop as she knew exactly what this meant.
As if summoned by her dark thoughts, a thin male voice spoke out across the side yard. “Hello Juliet, we thought we might find you here.”
Turning from the horses, Juliet immediately felt queasy. Not only was its Marshall, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself, but next to him stood an overdressed and paunch looking Lord Faber.
Although his face was again kind, there was something in the way his eyes boldly traced the lines of her body, stopping momentarily as if he got trapped on the curves.
Juliet curtseyed low, taking her time and offering him only views of her twisted hairstyle and the tops of her shoulders as she looked side to side, wishing frantically for someone to come walking by.
But other than the three of them, the stable area was empty. Dread curled in her gut, making her throat thick. Her head felt heavy. When she slowly straightened, Marshall and Lord Faber were both approaching her.
“You see, Henry, I told you she was a lovely rider,” Marshall was saying to Faber, his face pale, focused on the shorter man who walked beside him.
“I would expect no less of a Greystone,” Faber said good-naturedly, putting one hand in his pocket as they stopped before her. Bowing over her hand, his mustache tickling her knuckles, “It is nice to see you again, Lady Juliet.” Juliet caught the fiery stare coming from Marshall, so while she desired nothing more than to yank her hand free and storm away, she painted a smile on her lips and allowed him to kiss her fingers.
“Thank you, Lord Faber. What brings you here today?” Juliet softly answered, ignoring the angry look that Marshall fixed on her. Lord Faber offered his elbow, which Juliet took obediently, and together they walked into the cobbled stable aisle.
Most days, the smells of hay and warm horses would’ve comforted her, yet she felt nothing but cold seeping into her bones. Marshall stayed where he was in the small courtyard, watching as Lord Faber walked her further away.
“I wanted to speak to you privately, Lady Juliet, about a deeply personal matter.”
Juliet longed to recoil but allowed him to steer her over in front of his body, his small beady eyes focused on her face, or more specifically, her lips as he stumbled on.
“I’ve never married, you see, not for lack of desire, but for lack of time,” Juliet fought hard to shove down her rising panic, “But now I find myself quite lonesome. My home lately feels too big, too empty. Bachelor life has been kind to me, but I’m ready for a change.” His hand found hers, and as she looked into his hopeful face, her mind flew, trying to come up with a reasonable rebuke for whatever might come out of this conversation.
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hands. The feeling left her feeling raw and uncomfortable, the furthest thing from a caress. Revulsion clouded Juliet’s mind. Lord Faber leaned towards her, giving her a charitable smile, his belly dangerous close to brushing hers.
“Your father told me of your situation, my dear, and I’m prepared to make an offer for your hand. Mansfield Park be damned. I know that I will be a good husband to you, provide a good life for you,” Juliet focused on not moving a muscle, clamping down on her lungs, anything that might qualify as a response to this statement.
“My stepfather…,” Juliet corrected automatically, her voice trailing off. Lord Faber’s face twitched slightly, displeased with her response to his announcement.
“Juliet, my dear, I’m asking you to marry me. Do you understand?” Lord Faber continued, his thin blonde brows lowering as if concerned she wasn’t capable of following his train of thought. Her body screamed to breathe. Breath in, breathe out, she chanted internally.
Juliet peered down at her toes, the riding boots scuffed by a stumble earlier that morning. There had to be a way out of this, yet she just couldn’t scratch through the fog of shock to find it. Her mind raced, desperate to find an answer for the man before her.
“You flatter me, my Lord,” Juliet ground out, her jaw creaking as her stomach threatened to retaliate in the most unladylike of ways. To her horror, his face immediately brightened. Clearing his throat, Faber sent a sharp glance over his shoulder at Marshall.
As if waiting for this signal, Marshall turned abruptly and slipped out of the barn and out of sight. Juliet’s eyes flitted between the two men, feeling a deep sense of foreboding settle in her breast.
Swallowing hard and forcing her voice to do something, “But I cannot accept your offer. I would never want to sully your good name with my scandalized one,” Juliet closed her eyes and feigned embarrassment.
Lord Faber gave a dark chuckle, “That’s not how I see you, Juliet. I know that your,” he paused, and she could feel his stare again wander her person, “Morals, remain intact.” Juliet blushed, feeling the humiliation of his statement heat up her face as she continued to tip her face downward.
“It would be my pleasure to shelter you from any misunderstanding, and if it is a question of rumor, I know that we can easily have that fire stomped out.” He gripped her arm, clearly unaware of how uneasy she was with his hands on her body. “I am a powerful man, my dear, not a Duke or an Earl, but I have my ways of managing the fickle lot that the ton is.”
Juliet felt faint, pressing a shaking hand to her stomach as she swayed a bit. Breath in, breath out, she began again. The fog in her mind cleared just enough.
“I am overwhelmed by your kindness Lord-,” Juliet was stopped as Lord Faber held up a hand only a breath away from her lips, so close she could see the stitching of his lambskin gloves.
“Please,” he whispered, his beady eyes straying again to watch her lips, “Call me, Henry.”
Now hurrying, feeling as if her time for an answer was running short, Juliet blurted out, “Lord Faber, I cannot possibly accept such a proposal right now.”
That snapped his head up, sending his prominent double chin-wagging as his face colored. Juliet scrambled to soothe his ire. She didn’t fear this small, misinformed man. If anything, she felt pity for him; she was sure loneliness and desperation fueled his actions.
The lurking shadow that was her stepfather, however, was rotten to the core. If Faber were to storm out of here, angry, it would mean facing Marshall’s fury. And that she was not prepared to do.
Juliet moved fast, her smooth, cool hands finding hold against the hot, ruddy, blotchy skin of his cheeks, effectively halting his actions. He looked at her longingly from between her clammy hands. It was almost enough to make her nauseous. In her heart, she knew that she needed to buy time, buy safety. Buy her and William a chance. She swallowed the bile in her mouth.
“Please. I just need more time. I’ve just had my heart stolen, broken by my silly impulsiveness, my Lord,” Juliet kept her voice soft and coaxing. Faber’s eyes narrowed. Juliet changed tactics, looking for the answer he craved. “As a woman, I’ve never known how to express my desires.” Juliet watched as Faber stiffened, his eyes dilating as her tactic took hold.
“Your desires,” Faber spoke slowly, the words garbled as he gazed at her.
“Yes. I need time to understand. To come to grips with the new man in my life.” It was true, except for the part about which man was the new one in her life. That role belonged solely to William. If there had been any doubts in her mind, she knew that she would never, and could never be happy married to the man standing before her.
Lord Faber flushed deeply, his face growing warm and sweaty under her palm. His face filled with adoration, he turned into her arm, inhaling against the soft skin of her wrist. While repulsed, Juliet was too frightened to do anything but hold entirely still.
“I completely understand, Juliet,” his intense gaze was plastered to her face, watching as he used her given name freely. Juliet tried to smile, but suddenly Faber rushed
forward, sealing his lips over hers.
Surprise froze her for only a moment, feeling the sloppy, wet pressure of his mouth pulling at her, before gasping, she shoved him off. Her chest heaving as she wiped at any trace of his lips, unable to bear the feeling of his mouth branded on her skin.
Faber looked at her hard, his face again tinged with embarrassment, but also a fierce victory. Juliet knew at that moment that this man, who acted so friendly, so kind, had a much darker side to him that she had barely scratched the surface of. The silence between them grew, growing sharp and ominous as she struggled to find the right words. Breathing hard, Juliet pressed a shaking hand to her chest, her frantic heartbeat pounding beneath her palm.
Shaking his nearly bald head with a short cluck of his tongue, Faber finally broke the silence. “Please do not mistake my pleasure at you being my potential wife for an excuse not to give me what is due to me,” his face twisted, his eyes flickering behind him briefly, where she knew Marshall waited for them.
“I know what kind of woman you are, Juliet, desires, or no, I will not be denied. I have already waited a long time for you. You can consider this if you’d like, our official engagement because whether you like it or not, our wedding will be taking place very soon. You can count on it.
With that, Faber spun deftly on his heels with a jolt and left her standing, sputtering and shivering in the middle of the stable. The moment he disappeared from view, she heard her stepfather’s voice, it’s slick, charming tones working their magic on Faber’s frustration.
Inside the aisle, Juliet found herself able to take only a few steps before leaning against the first solid surface she found, a dilapidated stall. Sterling and Winsome were both silent in the foreboding chill of the day and watching with their curved ears pricked forward to their distressed mistress. Her body crumbled against the stall door.
“What am I going to do?” she cried thickly, her voice cracking as she leaned her forehead against the rough edge of the stall, the prickling of wood against her skin grounding her in its pain. The pain kept her eyes open and focused even as the tears flowed. But neither horse answered, and while Faber and Marshall’s voices had long faded.
Juliet straightened, looking out into the yard as a pair of sloppily dressed Greystone footmen cared for Faber’s sweat lathered carriage horses. She was certain that Lord Henry Faber wasn’t going anywhere. As he had said, he wasn’t used to being denied, and what he wanted most now was Juliet. Her fear was tangy in her mouth.
Although she had promised herself and Marian that she would leave William to his business in town, she was desperate to update him with not only the pressing marriage but at the fact that Faber was here in residence at Greystone. She had faith that William’s plan, whatever it was, would keep her out of Faber’s arms and into his.
But now, the timeline was moving too quickly. William needed to hurry. Ducking into the barn office, she found a small scrap of paper, an inkwell, and quickly wiped the tears off her face, not wanting to let them run into her words and alarm William. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she quickly scribbled a note to William.
He has proposed, and I can’t say no. Please hurry.
Juliet folded the letter, deciding to leave off her signature and William’s name, just in case it fell into the wrong hands. Hurrying across the yard, Juliet cut through the kitchen, finding the butler and begging him to find a way to post her message as soon as he could.
Her tear-streaked face must’ve shocked the entire room of Greystone cooks and staff members who had gone silent during her pleading. She hadn’t cared a single bit at the wary expressions or whispers that followed her, so completely focused on getting the message out.
She quickly escaped out the back stairs to her bedroom. That is precisely where Amelia found her hours later, curled in a tight ball under the blankets.
“Oh lovely, please don’t cry,” Amelia said, perching her weight on the edge of the bed so that she could lean over and look into Juliet’s hair-mussed face.
“You weren’t there,” Juliet said softly. “He all but claimed me. Like some kind of auction prize.” She sniffed hard then attempted to cover her head with the blanket again, hiding from Amelia’s kind, searching eyes.
“I’ve heard all about it, Juliet. What I want to hear now is what you are planning on doing about it,” Amelia said the words gently, but the fierceness that lurked in that voice was something to be admired. Juliet peeked out an eye.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that the girl I knew, the girl I raised, she is the daughter of a powerful Earl and a force to be reckoned with all her own. Auction prize is damned, I say.”
Juliet rolled her eyes, feeling like the past few days of solitary had destroyed the meager confidence that she had built up while staying at Lakeview.
“My father is gone, I’m going to be married to a man twice my age, and the man I love is all the way in London,” Juliet blurted out, frustration threatening to bring more tears as she turned her head into the softness of her pillow.
Breathless, Amelia gave a soft laugh. “So, you’ve figured out that you love him. I’m so happy for you, my dear.”
Juliet withdrew her head to stare at Amelia, and the only maternal influence she could remember in her short life. Amelia’s eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. Leaning forward, Amelia brushed her hand, tenderly over Juliet’s tear-dampened cheek. “It was clear since that first day that you two were made for each other.”
She straightened in the bed, hands going to smooth the covers habitually. “Now, let’s talk about how we can keep you single enough to accept that gorgeous boy’s proposal when he does finally get here.” Juliet laughed, her voice muffled. But slowly, surely, she turned to look at Amelia, swiping harshly at the remaining tear marks.
“Did you have any ideas?” Juliet whispered, sniffling, her heart in her throat. Amelia’s wise face lit up conspiratorially. Juliet couldn’t help but smile back, so grateful to have someone in Greystone who was on her side.
“Oh, do I,” Amelia said, standing up and whipping the blankets off dramatically away from Juliet, who laughed. Feeling a bit more like herself as she leaned into Amelia, waiting to hear what the maid had cooked up for Lord Faber.
***
While Lord had initially told Greystone staff, he meant to stay the entire week. His bright eyes had crawled over her skin as he announced he wanted to get to know his future bride better. Elizabeth had glowed with pleasure, clapping her hands like a small child given a glittering present. Marshall, too, had been pleased, whisking Lord Faber away to celebrate his engagement to Juliet with a mid-day cocktail.
Juliet had stood quietly as they had clapped and smiled, absorbing everything, a smile on her face. A smile that didn’t waver because she knew in her heart that she was ready to fight back, that she had something to fight back for. Turning, she went to find Amelia. It was time to put their plan into motion.
Over the next two days, Faber began to change his tune. It seemed everywhere he went, especially to be closer to Juliet, he ran into issues. First, the hunting dogs were accidentally getting locked in Lord Faber’s room left to wreak havoc on his wardrobe and bedchamber. Then when he attempted to join Juliet on her morning ride, and her father’s old horse, Winsome, took him for a ride that he wouldn’t soon forget.
By the third day, he announced that he needed to make an early trip to London and be back as soon as possible. He gave Marshall a knowing look as he stomped out the door. Juliet would’ve been worried, but she was a little sad they hadn't gotten to use any of the other ideas Amelia had thought up.
Marshall and Elizabeth had gotten into an enormous fight after the man had fled. At the same time, Juliet had secretly celebrated the victory. She knew that time was still short and hoped William would make his appearance soon.
The day after Faber left, Juliet sipped her tea and read through a list of pedigrees that her father’s dear friend and former businessman
. She hoped to present William with a list of beneficial matches for both Sterling and Winsome’s first crop of foals. The broodmare’s names were foreign to her, but she was determined to learn everything she could. And it helped to distract her from her restless heart.
Juliet glanced up as her mother swooped into the room, entirely made up and wearing a spotless navy gown, the picture of an aristocratic wife. No wonder Juliet always disappointed her and Marshall.
Juliet sat on the chair in the most casual dress she had, it’s soft blue tones complimentary to her figure and coloring but did not scream to the universe her bloodline and nobility as her mother did.
Looking down at the horse's pedigrees before her, she set it aside roughly. She hated the look in her mother’s eye when she explained any of her business ideas for herself or Greystone. The disappointment, the confusion there, would bring Juliet to tears long before words could.