Miranda straightened in her seat and glanced over at the mothers still deep in conversation. Juliet's aunt caught her eye, raising a quizzical brow before rising to come and sit with them. Miranda waited for the Countess to arrange her skirts before voicing any reply. “Lady Ashford, there is news to which you must be privy. The betrothal is a sham. Your niece has consented to give my brother a week to woo her while she devilishly determines to convince him marriage is not necessary. What say you to that?”
“Miranda!” admonished Juliet with a nervous glance toward her mother. She and the Duchess were deep in their plans and paid no heed to the conversation heating up on the other side of the room.
Aunt Catherine lay her hand on Juliet's arm. “I knew some game was afoot when you smiled so widely at the announcement. It took far too little time to sway you to matrimony, for all that I think it a marvelous notion for you, my dear” she added with another pat to Juliet's arm. “Providence has smiled on you, my favorite niece. You can do no better than Jonas Leighton for your husband. Think of what else is out there for you; think of my not-so-dearly-departed Cecil before you decide to run from this match. I know you abhor its inception, but think you the Duke so self-sacrificing that he would enter into an alliance not to his liking? He is in earnest, my dear. What is your true fear?”
Juliet swallowed nervously, hands fidgeting, wishing desperately for tea to soothe her parched throat and a speedy end to this inquisition. “Saints and sinners, I h-have no fear of this-this alliance,” she stammered unconvincingly. “You know me – both of you know me – I have no desire to marry, ever.”
Miranda laughed outright while her aunt responded. “Yes, I can hear the lack of fear in your shaking voice and bumbling speech,” Lady Ashford chided with a sweet but knowing smile. “Truly you do not believe your own words, do you? You are far too intelligent for this equivocation, and I call your bluff! You do not want this alliance specifically because you do want this alliance!” Miranda nodded her head in agreement before stopping, blinking several times as she tried to assimilate the Countess' confounding statement. Juliet dropped her chin to her chest as she felt a telling blush rise across her cheeks. “Ha! You see, Miranda? She blushes. She knows I speak the truth. It was easy to declare her aversion to marriage whilst she favored no man. Now she favors the Duke. I dare to go so far as to say she loves the Duke. Her fear is that she does not know his heart. She fears he acts only as he should rather than as he wants.” Lady Ashford smiled triumphantly as Juliet sank into her plush seat. Miranda turned incredulous eyes on her friend.
“You love Jonas? Bugger it all, Jules, when did this happen? How did this happen? I know you have spent more time together of late, but to love him?! I am half astonishment and half appalled . . . yet also half amused and half delighted! To think this party started with our larks against my brother while you secretly held a tendre for him. Whyever did you go along with my schemes? Oh – lo and behold! We shall be sisters in truth now, not just in deed. You must tell him the truth and not hold him to this week of wooing. No – wait! Bugger that and make him work this week. It will do him no small amount of good to earn his good fortune rather than have it fall so conveniently in his lap.” Miranda stopped for a brief breath as her countenance fell. “But I still do not understand why you do not wish to marry him if you in fact do love him. Why will you strive to turn his mind from matrimony?”
Juliet opened her mouth to respond but could not find the words. She glanced at her aunt and uttered a hasty “please excuse me” before she rose and exited swiftly from the room. Miranda made to pursue her friend but was stayed by Lady Ashford's hand on her arm. Juliet's aunt leaned over, brushing a wisp of hair from across Miranda's brow and tucking it behind her ear.
“Dear Miranda, let her go. She is confused at the moment, and confusion is not a common feeling for my niece.” She patted her hand on Miranda's arm. “And I must confess, I followed only every third word that fell from your mouth with your speedy verbal onslaught just now. But no matter; let me answer your final question, which I did manage to understand. Juliet wants a happy marriage, one of like-mindedness and alignment of goals from the outset. She feels that your brother was forced to offer for her and therefore his motivations and actions are now suspect. I have a plan, however, and need your help. In fact, I need the help of all the ladies of your group.”
Miranda's face brightened and she focused her attention on the Countess. “I can gather them all together shortly after we break our fast. Where shall we meet?”
“My room, dear. I can keep out the busybodies and keep in those I need.” She looked out the sun-filled window in deep contemplation for a few moments. “Be sure to include that useless Viscount's sister, Lady Margaret. I am sure she needs a friend and a focus, and we can offer both to her. She seems a nice young lady in spite of her unfortunate relation. Now, off you go, my dear. I shall see you after we dine.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.
William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 7
“Oomph,” Juliet whooshed as she ran into the solid wall of the Duke. His arms came around her immediately as he steadied her from their collision.
“Just the lady I was coming to collect. Are you ready -” Jonas began only to stop when he saw the look of distress on her face. “What ails you?” he queried.
Juliet's flight from her aunt and friend only led to her capture by the Duke. She took a deep breath and forced her eyes to meet his gaze. “Nothing is amiss, I merely needed to escape the conversation of that room.”
Jonas glanced around before grabbing Juliet by the elbow and ushering her to a darkened alcove further down the hall. He shielded her presence from the open hall, grasping her face gently between his large hands. “You are overset. I see tears in your eyes, Juliet. Tell me at once what is the matter,” he demanded.
Her eyes searched his face, noting the severity of his expression and his focus on her well-being. She felt herself calming as she acknowledged his obvious care. “I swear I am well, Your Grace. My aunt and Miranda were rather pointed in their words to me. After all the events of this morning, I just found myself unable to sit still a moment longer. I suddenly felt the need to be outdoors.”
Jonas dragged his thumb across her cheek as he continued to solemnly study her face. “I can quite understand that feeling, as I have just spent time in my study with both your father and youngest brother. Although it is barely mid-morning, I feel as if the day should be near its end.” His right brow quirked up suddenly. “I have just noticed you using my title again, my lady. Were you not disabused of this notion earlier?”
Juliet gave a short laugh and reached to take Jonas' hands from her face, lowering them to clasp in between them. “You must give me time to adjust my speech, good sir,” she intoned, “t'will be hard to undo so many years of instruction on address.” She smiled impishly, her distressed mood ebbing as they teased.
Jonas smiled in return, dimples flashing. “I shall think of some way to make it more memorable in your mind then.” He paused as a noise traveled towards them from down the hall. “But now I think we must adjourn to the dining room. We have an announcement to make.” Jonas pulled her from the alcove, placing her hand within the crook of his arm as he began to walk toward the stairs. He did not fail to notice the fall of her countenance.
“Saints and sinners, this morning will never end,” she muttered under her breath. She felt a small tug on her arm and looked up at the Duke.
“We shall make the announcement briefly and not stay for the inevitable questions and adulation, however. I have no more interest in being on display like some museum trinket than you, it would seem. What say you to breakfast on the second floor terrace instead?”
Jonas felt Juliet squeeze his arm as her face lit up with appreciation. “That sounds much more to my liking, Your Grace,” she replied. Their pace slowed as they came within a few steps of t
he dining room doors.
“Let's have your best smile then as we beard the lions in their den, as it were.” Juliet made a face in an attempt at a smile but looked rather pained instead. “I think fewer teeth would be more convincing, with less panic in your eyes.” Juliet could not stop her laughter from bubbling forth. “Perfect,” murmured Jonas as he looked at her appreciatively longer than necessary before turning them into the room. After the much-witnessed events in the ducal chambers earlier, all eyes were trained on the couple now framed in the doorway. Jonas placed a comforting hand over the one Juliet had resting on his arm.
“Friends, I trust we have not kept you waiting on pins and needles,” he began in his smooth baritone. “Please allow me to present Lady Juliet Quinn, future Duchess of Dorset, my betrothed. Our presence is required elsewhere so we must postpone our acceptance of your felicitations but we thank you in kind, and bid you good morning.” The Duke pivoted, pulling a smiling but slightly stunned Juliet with him, departing to the echo of gasps and surprised chatter amongst his guests.
“Well. That announcement was no fun at all,” groused Maj. Quinn. “I expected at least some glowers from some men and sniffles from some ladies, not to mention pointed whispers from a few matriarchs. Now we have nothing about which to joke on our ride to London,” he complained to Capt. Hughes.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Cry, 'Havoc!' And let slip the dogs of war.
William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 1
Miranda had summoned the ladies to leave the dining room while Aunt Catherine rang for another breakfast to be served in her suite. Included in the impromptu meeting was Lady Margaret Stansbury. Being the unfortunate sister to Viscount Melville left her at the mercy of his ambiguous reputation. As such, Miranda and the Countess felt Lady Margaret needed both friends and purpose to occupy her time in Sussex. While they waited for the group to convene, two footmen arrived to set up a table and lay out the breakfast dishes. A steaming carafe of coffee and still-bubbling pot of water for tea were placed on a side table while triangles of toast, sweet pastries, butter and cream, and a variety of jams were arranged so the ladies could eat en famille. Lady Ashford looked up as the ladies began to trickle into the sitting room, Miranda directing them to find a seat around the table. As the last lady was aided to her chair, Lady Ashford dismissed the staff and looked around at the curious faces.
“I know you are all aware of the betrothal of my niece and His Grace, so I will tell you something you do not know. Lady Juliet and the Duke are in love, or at least well on their way to being so, but are too stubborn or too cowardly – or both – to admit it to the other. We have but one week to throw these two together enough times to force the issue, so to speak, and make them confront and admit their feelings toward each other. For this, I need your help.”
“The marriage is of a sudden but necessary, since they were found so compromised. Since they will marry regardless, why must they confess their feelings?” questioned Lady Gertrude Lovelace.
“Ladies, I will let you in on a matrimonial secret. Well, it is actually a phrase that applies to most decisions you will make in your life: 'begin as you mean to go on.' In this instance, I speak of marriage, so regardless of the circumstances, be it arranged, a friendship, a rescue, or for love, you must be proactive to ensure your marriage will be the one you desire from its inception. Do not play the milk-and-water miss then grouse later if you are not perceived as strong and independent. Do not hide your thinking mind, believing a man prefers a frippery-mad decoration for his arm, if you one day wish to be a partner to your husband both in and out of the bedroom. Be yourself from the outset and you will endure less heartache and self-reproach.” The Countess took a delicate sip of her tea. “I speak from experience, having listened to ill advice that led me to subvert my natural nature with one of vapidity and delicacy. And what did I earn for my foolishness? Marriage to a man who was my intellectual and emotional inferior, who took every opportunity to belittle me in every way. It took me three years – three long, anguish-filled, and arduous years – to remember who Catherine Ashford really was, and that she was worth the space she filled in this land. Because of my prevarication, my marriage was one of strife, vexation, and disappointment. So why must Jonas and Juliet confess their feelings? Because they want the same things from each other and marriage and need to see each other without the distracting complications of propriety and duty.”
Silence reigned in the drawing room as the ladies alternately sipped tea or nibbled toast corners. Wide eyes and pink-tinged cheeks ringed the table. The Countess set her tea cup back in its saucer and eyed the group carefully.
“It makes sense to me,” chimed Lady Temperance Warren after an uncomfortable silence threatened to suffocate the inhabitants of the room. “It sounds as if you describe my parents, Lady Ashford. They are all that is polite and perfectly civil to each other, yet my father knows not what my mother's favorite meal or color are, nor would he care to. My mother knows only what she must show Society, in the style of her dress or the decoration of our homes, the turn of a phrase to charm in conversation. I have often decried that my upbringing, while completely secure and without fear or abuse, had all the warmth and feeling of blancmange. You see it sitting on the plate, perfectly capable of offering sustenance to a hungry soul, yet it holds no appeal in its color and the taste is even worse. Well, I for one do not desire a blancmange marriage for myself nor for my friend Juliet. Whatever help I can lend, I heartily offer.”
“My parents are desperately in love. As I grew older, I often felt embarrassed by their unguarded displays of affection. What delighted me as a child, whether it be their holding hands or stolen kisses, gradually made me think less of them as I grew. I saw the behavior of other couples while my governess drilled all manner of propriety and ladylike behavior into me. I sometimes think my parents' affection indecorous.” Miss Harriet Shaw paused with a look of fearful determination on her face. “Suddenly I am ashamed of my feelings. I have known only love and comfort, yet I grew resentful of it. Now I fear I am being pursued by the Earl of Dartmouth for less than honorable reasons,” she confided in a whisper.
“Oh, no, Harriet! Juliet assures me Dartmouth has no nefarious goals in mind. He is in earnest in his pursuit,” vowed Miranda
“But it is all so sudden. A man with whom I have never danced, never spoken, and never dreamed to do either, has become my shadow. I had quite resigned myself to being firmly on the shelf at my advanced age. What could be his motivation? Should I 'begin as I mean to go on' and confront him, question his interest of a sudden, or should I wait for him to reveal his intentions?”
The Countess suddenly slapped her hand on the table, causing the dishes to rattle and some tea to slosh. “Miss Shaw, you are what, five and twenty? You are lovely and graceful; only your spirit is mature. You are not some dizzy debutante, and there is an attraction in that for a man ready to find a wife. If you want to know these things of Dartmouth then, by all means, ask. If you are content to be led to the altar for whatever reason, then continue to fear the company of your shadow. I merely caution you all to refrain from crying surprise over an unpleasant or unsatisfying outcome when you follow the dictates of others without any investigation or questions of your own.”
“This is all very well and good, if all the players are sworn to behave properly, at least by Society's standards, but what of those who would betray their own family to the devil himself for twenty pieces of silver?” Lady Margaret Stansbury asked quietly with eyes firmly fixed on her lap. Her reference to Judas and his betrayal of the Christ did not go unnoticed.
Lady Ashford stood and walked around the table to place her hands on Lady Margaret's shoulders. “We shall speak of this later, my dear, and I assure you all will be quite well. You are amongst those who would happily call you sister so that you may cast off the one unworthy of the name brother.” She patted Lady Margaret lovingly. “I ask you ladies once again, however, if you are willin
g to help me push the Duke and Juliet together. Tomorrow I will have need of fresh strawberries for my nuncheon and only those two will suffice to fetch for me. I will need the rest of you to be scarce or occupying the attentions of the other house guests.” Lady Ashford looked each lady in the eye once again. “Will you pledge your aid?”
Excited chatter overlapped the acceptances that flowed out of each lady's mouth as the Countess was able to ascertain their agreement easily by the simultaneous nodding of their heads. Smiles broke out around the table as each lady began to discuss her part in possible upcoming schemes.
Lady Ashford squeezed the shoulders of Lady Margaret Stansbury again and motioned for the younger lady to follow her into her private room. It was there, in their isolation, that Juliet's aunt pledged to support Lady Margaret with both fortune and presence in Society. After many attempts were made to dissuade Lady Ashford, Lady Margaret finally accepted with a grateful and graceful nod.
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