“Miss Judith, watch your reticule! I don’t like the look of this one!”
A glance from Judith reduced her to silence. Her gentle employer did not often show displeasure, but when she did so Bessie felt it keenly. She subsided.
“Oh, please! I don’t mean to rob you, but I must have money. We have no food, and Josh’s boots are pledged…Miss, he can’t go out until I get them back.”
Bessie snorted in amusement, but Judith did not smile. There was fear in the girl’s eyes, and she seemed to be close to collapse.
“I have very little money with me.” Judith pressed all the coins she had into the girl’s hand. “Come indoors, and I will give you more.”
The girl backed away. “They won’t let me in. When I asked for you they threatened to give me over to the magistrate.”
“I see!” Judith tried to contain her rising anger. “Then we must meet again. Tomorrow I shall be in Piccadilly. Will you come there, to the bookshop?”
“Thank ’ee, miss. What time?”
“Shall we say at noon?” Judith gazed at the pale exhausted face, and suddenly she was puzzled. “You say you asked for me? How did you know my name?”
“Josh knows the Reverend Truscott, ma’am. He speaks well of you. Josh was sure that you would help us…”
“Until tomorrow, then?” Judith smiled at the girl. “Pray buy some food, my dear. I fear the boots must wait.”
As the girl hurried away Judith went indoors. She was tempted to take the porter to task for his lack of charity towards their unfortunate caller. It was strange, she mused, how some servants, however lowly their position, showed little kindness to those who were less fortunate than themselves.
She held her tongue. This was Mrs Aveton’s house, and here she had no rights.
She felt no such constraints when Bessie brought the subject up again.
“Boots, forsooth! A likely story! These beggars will tell you anything, Miss Judith, and bless me if you don’t believe them!”
“You surprise me, Bessie!” Judith’s look was stern. “I thought the girl was telling the truth, but even if not, you must have seen how weak and tired she looked.”
Bessie flushed at the reproach. “You’d give your last penny, miss, and well you know it!”
“How foolish you must think me!” The words, spoken in Judith’s usual quiet tones, were enough to persuade Bessie that she had gone too far. She raised her handkerchief to her eyes.
“No, don’t weep! You may leave me now. I shan’t need you again today.”
This calm dismissal was too much for Bessie. “Oh, Miss Judith, don’t send me away! I didn’t mean—”
“Bessie, don’t be such a goose!” Judith’s smile returned. “You thought you were taking care of me. As for sending you away? I meant only that I shan’t go out again today.”
The explanation was enough to satisfy her maid, but when she left the room Judith took herself to task. Perhaps she’d been too harsh with this old friend who loved her so, but unkindness was the one thing which never failed to rouse her to anger.
And something else was troubling her. How odd it seemed that Charles had mentioned her name to one of his parishioners as a likely source of charity when he himself had access to the Fund for Paupers. Then she remembered. Charles was at a sickbed. The girl’s case must be urgent, or he would have dealt with it on his return. Doubtless he had no idea when that might be.
Having satisfied herself on that point, she opened the drawer in her desk and examined her remaining funds. Her allowance for the quarter was largely untouched. She set aside a small sum for necessities, and put the rest into her reticule.
Hopefully, it would save the girl from immediate want for the next few weeks at least. The pale, stricken face could not be banished from her mind. How young she was, barely out of her teens, if Judith herself was any judge. And she’d looked so frail and weak, thin to the point of emaciation. Possibly it was due to hunger, but the pallid skin and the sunken eyes suggested something more. It seemed to her that the girl was ill.
Her anger rose. Who was this Josh…this man she’d mentioned? Not her husband, certainly. Judith had seen no wedding ring. But whether he was a relative or a casual protector, he might have taken better care of the poor soul.
When Charles returned she would speak to him about the case. There might be something he could do to help.
She was still preoccupied with the problem when she walked to Piccadilly on the following day. Dan was waiting for her by the door of Hatchard’s, and he came towards her, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.
She was about to greet him when she saw the girl.
“Dan, will you excuse me for a moment?” she murmured. She thrust her purse into the girl’s hand. “This will help,” she said with her sweetest smile. “If you come to me next week, I may be able to do more for you.”
To her surprise, the girl produced a folded paper and thrust it into her hand.
“Why, what is this?” she asked.
“It’s a message, miss.”
“From whom?”
The girl looked terrified. “I wasn’t to answer any questions,” she muttered. Then she disappeared into the crowd.
“A mystery?” Dan teased. “Who was that girl? Does she bring you a message from a secret admirer?”
“I doubt it!” Judith opened the note. It was brief, ill-spelt, and written in an illiterate hand on a torn scrap of paper. “I don’t understand,” she murmured as she handed it to Dan. “Can you make sense of it?”
“Parson sez as you ain’t to worrit. Girl knows nothing, so save your breath. Rev. comes back termorrer.” Dan read the words aloud. “My dear, this is a mystery indeed. The parson, I take it, is the Reverend Charles. Why could he not write to you himself?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps he feared to spread the infection…?”
“Did he not tell you that he was immune?”
“He did.” Judith searched the crowd in vain for some trace of the girl. “Oh, dear! I should have read it before I let her go. She might have been able to tell me what is happening…and given me some word of Charles and his mother.”
Dan’s eyes rested on her face. “I fear she would tell you nothing. You do not recognise the writing?” He was beginning to have his own suspicions as to the author of the note, but wisely he did not voice them.
“No. It seems to be from a man…perhaps this Josh that the girl has mentioned. Charles is acquainted with him. That was how she knew my name and where to find me.”
“For what purpose?”
Judith coloured. “She was in need of help.”
“So that was why you handed her your purse? My dear Judith, Mr Truscott should have taken care of it from the Parish Funds.”
“But, Dan, he isn’t there, and you could see from her appearance that the case is urgent.”
Dan wasn’t satisfied, but he sensed that Judith felt distressed. “Doubtless Mr Truscott will explain when next you see him,” he comforted her. He would not betray his feelings to her, but his suspicions grew. It was only with an effort that he forced a smile.
“Shall we go in?” He took her arm to lead her into the bookshop.
Judith shook her head. “You will think me a peagoose, but shall you mind if we do not? I…I am not in the mood to choose a book today.”
Dan guessed at once that she had parted with all the money in her possession.
“Not even one?” he urged. “I was hoping to make you a present of something that would please you.”
“Oh, please…you must not!”
“Why not? It would be just a token of appreciation from an old friend.”
“Appreciation? For what?” Judith was blushing. She looked so adorable in her confusion that he longed to take her in his arms and smother her face with kisses. If only he might do so…
“Why, for all the pleasure which your own book has given me,” he said lightly. “I can’t wait for the day when we see it displayed in Hatchard
’s window.”
“You are dreaming!” Judith chuckled. “Take care, or you will give me a swollen head!”
“I hope not! I like your head exactly the way it is, and that bonnet is a triumph!”
“Dan! You never used to speak so foolishly,” she reproached him, although she flushed with pleasure. She’d been doubtful about the full poke-front of the satin straw, but the puffs of ribbon trimming matched her new spencer so exactly that Bessie had coaxed her into buying it.
“Then I must have been a prosy bore…or blind,” Dan joked. “Perhaps I saw the jewel, rather than the setting.” He saw that this reference to the past had disturbed her. He had said too much, and he was quick to change the subject.
“I too have a message for you, Judith. Prudence would like to see you. She begged me to invite you to join us for a late nuncheon.”
“I had supposed that visitors would tire her.” The half-truth was excusable, but it was not Judith’s main reason for ending her visits to Mount Street.
“She is alone today. Perry and Elizabeth are gone to visit Miss Grantham, and Sebastian has a meeting with his man of business.”
“Oh, Dan, you should not have left her!”
“When I said that I might see you, she insisted. My dear, do come! As I told you yesterday, she is low in spirits at this time, and much in need of a change of conversation.”
Judith thought for a moment. Nothing would give her greater pleasure than to accompany him to Mount Street.
“You have other commitments?” he asked anxiously. “Must you return to Mrs Aveton?”
Judith made a quick decision. “I shan’t be missed,” she said with a half smile. “When I come to Hatchard’s I forget the time. Mrs Aveton will not look for me for hours.”
Dan’s face brightened, and he gave her a dazzling smile as he took her arm. “Then I shall steal you away,” he said. “Shall we walk, or must I summon a hackney?”
“I prefer to walk in this fine spring weather.” It was not the wisest of decisions in this crowded part of London, as Judith realised too late. They might be seen by some of their acquaintance. She comforted herself with the thought that at this hour most members of the ton were still abed. Polite society did not stir abroad much before five in the afternoon.
Even so, she turned to the left when they crossed Piccadilly.
“You don’t wish to see the shops in Bond Street?” Dan teased.
“May we not take a quieter way? It will be quicker.”
Dan made no objection. He fell into step beside her, and slipped her arm through his as they turned into Berkeley Street.
“Is speed essential, Judith?” He was glancing down at her with an expression which made her heart turn over. “I welcome the chance to have you to myself.”
Judith looked away, and was surprised to see that one or two of the passers-by were smiling at them in fond amusement. She crimsoned. She and Dan must look like lovers. She pulled away from him.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We should have taken a hackney. Oh, Dan, this is all wrong. I shouldn’t be here with you.”
“Why not?” Dan continued to walk on beside her.
“Because…because I am betrothed, and you know it is not proper for us to walk alone.”
“Bessie is but a yard or two behind us,” he told her calmly. “Besides, we are almost there…”
“No!” she said. “I’ve changed my mind. I must go home.”
He stopped then, looking at her gravely. “Judith, we have not spoken of the past. I believe it is time we did so.” Without waiting for her reply he turned into Mount Street, but she did not follow him.
Dan retraced his steps and held out a hand to her. “My dear, you know that I am right. We cannot go on like this.”
Chapter Eight
Judith found herself at a loss for words. Even then she might have fled, but she stood transfixed as she tried to resolve the chaos in her mind.
Dan stood in silence as he awaited her decision, and at last she gave him a look which was painful in its intensity.
“Perhaps you are right,” she whispered. “Then we shall lay old ghosts to rest…”
It had been an agonising choice. She had no wish to discuss the past, or have old wounds reopened, or to relive the pain of parting all those years ago, but she couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened.
Above all, she didn’t want to hear what Dan was so clearly about to tell her. He no longer loved her. She’d been deceiving herself to imagine that there was sometimes more than friendly affection in his manner. Now she was making him uncomfortable, behaving in such a missish way, blushing like a schoolgirl at his compliments, and babbling on about the proprieties like some dowager.
She must pull herself together. There was such a thing as civilised behaviour. Engagements were broken every day, but hearts did not break so easily. The world went on, and old lovers met again, but surely they could not suffer as she was suffering now.
And she had brought this suffering on herself. It would have been easier, so much easier, not to have agreed to meet him. She must have been mad. In two short weeks she would be married to another man. Now she was being fair to neither Dan nor her betrothed. Her behaviour was unworthy of any woman of character, and it must change.
Pale but resolute, she allowed Dan to lead her through the hall of the Wentworth mansion, and into the library.
He offered her a chair, and then he began to pace the room. She guessed that he was wondering how to begin.
“What did you wish to say to me?” she asked at last. The silence had become unbearable.
“So much that it would take a lifetime! Oh, my dear, I have no wish to distress you, but—”
“We haven’t got a lifetime,” she said dully. “In two weeks’ time I shall be wed.”
He came to her then and knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. “Look at me!” he begged. “I know that you aren’t happy. I haven’t seen you look like this since the day we parted all those years ago…”
Judith disengaged her hands and turned her head away.
“I’m tired, that is all. Brides have these attacks of nerves, or so I hear. It is the strain of all the preparations—” Dan silenced her with a finger on her lips.
“Dearest, this is Dan,” he reminded her. “I know your every look…your every gesture. Were we not once as close as a man and a woman could be?”
Judith took her courage in both hands. She must not allow him to suspect that the memory of their love had never faded. He must not know how much all remembrance of the past distressed her, or he would blame himself for her pain.
“We were very young,” she whispered. “When I look back it seems to me that we were little more than children.”
“You didn’t think so then.”
“I know, but it was all so long ago. In extreme youth one’s emotions are at their most intense. It wasn’t the time to make decisions for the future.”
“You made yours,” he said simply. “And it broke my heart. Oh, Judith, for years there was not a single day when I didn’t feel your hand in mine, or sense your presence near me, even at the far ends of the earth.”
“You knew my reasons…”
“I couldn’t accept them then.” Dan rose to his feet and resumed his pacing. “I tried to hate you for the way you sacrificed our love because of Mrs Aveton’s slanders. I thought we might have faced them.”
Judith was silent.
“Later I realised that I was wrong,” he continued. “I must have been made to think that I could win you. What could I have offered you? A lad without breeding or fortune?”
“You would have made your way,” she whispered.
“Through patronage, or as one of Sebastian’s dependents? I would not have had it so, and neither would you.”
Judith did not argue, though she longed to do so. She cared nothing about his birth or lack of fortune, but at nineteen she could not see his life destroyed by the actions of
an evil woman.
“Then perhaps it was for the best,” she told him in a neutral tone. “Won’t you take me to Prudence?”
“Not yet. Bear with me for another moment. For the sake of our old friendship, I’ll ask you once again. Are you happy?”
Judith would not meet his eyes. “I am content,” she murmured.
He slipped a finger beneath her chin and raised her face to his. “Tell me the truth! Do you love this man as we once loved? If you do, I shall not say another word.”
Driven beyond endurance, Judith struck his hand away. “You have no right to ask!” she cried wildly.
“That’s true, but you have given me my answer. Oh, my dear, won’t you reconsider this betrothal before it is too late?”
“Stop!” She raised a hand to silence him. “You promised not to interfere. Why should I listen to you? What do you want of me?”
“Only your happiness, believe me. Give yourself time…”
“I can’t.” Judith rose to her feet. “I won’t cry off now.”
All hope had left her. She had given Dan his opportunity to tell her that he loved her still. He had not done so.
He’d changed more than she had at first suspected. The boy who once considered the world well lost for love had matured into a man who understood the values of the society in which he lived. Yet they were not his own. Dan would never seek the prize of a rich wife. He’d made it clear that he would make his way through his own efforts, or not at all.
She too had changed. At nineteen she would have scorned the notion of contentment as a basis for marriage. In those days love was all. She and Dan had shared something precious, something beyond a meeting of minds. In that halcyon time their passion had consumed them, giving their lives a radiance which she would never know again. In his every look and touch her world had been born anew.
“Oh, Dan!” It was a cry of despair. Unconsciously, she stretched out her hands to him.
If he’d taken her in his arms she would have offered him herself, her fortune and her love. Pride was a luxury which a woman in love could not afford.
He did not touch her. She did not know it, but he dared not or his resolve would have crumbled.
The Passionate Friends Page 11