“Not anxious, but it would be ill-mannered of me to impose on you and your family for any longer. You have been more than hospitable, but all visitors outwear their welcome. Please believe I want to repay you for your generosity. I hope you and Isabella will visit me.” She faced Barbara and Ralph. “I hope both of you and your children will also visit me at Riverside.”
“To be sure we will.” Barbara’s eyes twinkled as she looked from Gervaise to Juliana and back again. “Come, my lord, we have no business here.” She clasped Ralph’s hand and led him out of the book room.
Juliana addressed Mr Yelland. “Please start the proceedings to establish me as my father’s heiress, and keep me informed.”
“As you please, Mistress Kemp.” Mr Yelland bowed low and departed.
Chapter Eighteen
Alone with Juliana, Gervaise scrutinised her face, wondering whether she cared only for her estate and her sister.
Her eyes, as dark as unfathomable pools, looked into his. “I can scarce believe Father was a papist.”
He sought for words to console her. “My advice is not to judge your father, for who are we to stand between any gentleman and his conscience? Pray God we are never in the predicament in which honest people like us fear to declare our faith.” He spoke as he believed his compassionate Brahmin tutor would have done.
Juliana’s eyes flared. “How can you speak thus? Our countrymen and women abhor papists.”
“Some of them adhere to the Church of Rome.”
“Yet because of his faith, the second James forfeited his crown. You speak of papists as though you sympathise with them. Think of how the French tortured Huguenots, breaking every bone of their bodies on the wheel. You say you are an Anglican, my lord, but it seems you are more influenced by the Hindu faith than you are by the teachings of the Anglican Church. I fear our religious sympathies are too great to bridge.”
Juliana turned away from him and began to leave the room with hasty steps but not before he saw the glint of unshed tears in her eyes.
“Wait, Juliana.”
She halted and turned again, this time to face him.
Gervaise tensed. If she cared naught for him, he would not reveal his heart. He drew a deep breath. “Since the eighth Henry dissolved the monasteries, the realm has been torn apart by religious issues. Will you allow them to stand between us?” he asked, forced to bare his soul in a way he had never done before.
Head held high, her eyes pools of inner reflection, Juliana blushed. “I am not a fanatical Christian but I believe in the teachings of my faith and would not risk my immortal soul for earthly joys.”
Dependent on Juliana’s mercy, terrified of losing her, and more vulnerable than ever before since he first met her, Gervaise could not resist the temptation to touch her. He clasped her wrists. “By earthly joys I presume you refer to love. What do you know of passion between a man and a woman?”
Points of light burned in the depths of her eyes. “N-nothing.”
He slid his hands up her smooth arms, imagining the touch of her naked body. Her skin would be as soft as white rose petals. Urgent desire throbbed. He gripped her arms more tightly than he intended.
Juliana winced.
All concern, he released her immediately. “Forgive me, Juliana, I know not the strength of my hands. Please believe that even if the devil offered me the whole world, I would never hurt you deliberately.” Contrite, he mastered his painful ardour, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it.
“You did not hurt me, at least only a little. I must go. So much has happened. I can scarcely think. Thank you again for everything you have done for me.”
She smiled at him before her skirts swished across the floorboards and she left the book room.
Gervaise inhaled the fragrance of her lingering perfume, redolent of summer’s scents of honeysuckle and lavender, lilies and roses with a hint of something sharp. The scent suited her personality.
Stung by her rejection, Gervaise bent his head. He had revealed his innermost thoughts. Juliana had rebuffed him. A long drawn-out sigh escaped him. Never could he marry a narrow-minded lady. If he had learned anything of true worth in India it was tolerance.
His eyes moist, Gervaise looked up. Thank God for his daughter. Isabella loved him without reservation.
In torment, Gervaise remembered his first sight of Juliana, which drew him back to India where her form had changed to one he knew intimately—but not in this lifetime. He had noted the mark of a crescent moon on her right cheekbone and sensed the love they once shared. A tremor ran through him. Never before had he thought the Hindu theory of reincarnation might be valid. Maybe he and Juliana were not destined to live as man and wife in this lifetime, but perhaps there would be other lifetimes, other worlds, when they would meet and love as he believed they could. If he must wait, he would, though his heart ached at the thought.
* * * *
Juliana lay sleepless in her bed. Tomorrow she and Henrietta would return to her beloved Hertfordshire home. Everything she wanted for her sister and herself since her father’s death was hers: the estate, the London house, wealth, and entry to both fashionable society and to Queen Anne’s court.
Not everything, a traitorous inner voice whispered. You wanted to marry Gervaise. A tear trickled down her cheek. Juliana brushed it away. She berated herself. Why cry? She must never jeopardise her immortal soul. Christened in the Anglican Church—which her queen firmly upheld—she would try to follow its precepts until the day she died; even if she was not as good a Christian as she should be. Though Gervaise had said that even if the devil offered him the whole world he would not hurt her, she knew she could lose the world to come, if she gave up her convictions for him.
Once again her mind reeled. She had never guessed that in his heart her father followed the teachings of the Church of Rome. If he, whom she loved so much, betrayed the Anglican faith, how could she trust Gervaise, whose opinions were obviously swayed by his Hindu teacher? Could she ever plumb the depths of Gervaise’s heart?
Her own heart whispered. Would Gervaise expect you to compromise your love of God? What reason has he ever given you to distrust him? He said he is an Anglican. You have no reason to disbelieve him.
She turned over again in an uncomfortable tangle of sheets and bedcovers. Should she summon Sukey to make her some camomile tea? No, the girl needed her rest. Juliana’s head pressed deeper into the feather pillow. She sat, plumped it up, and then closed her eyes willing sleep to come.
Some time later, still restless, Juliana decided to make plans for the next day. She got out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown before lighting a pair of beeswax candles. After pausing to consider everything to be done, she placed the candlesticks on the small table beneath the window.
Juliana pulled a piece of paper toward her. She opened the ink well, dipped the tip of her crow-quill pen into it, and began to make notes.
Instruct Mr Yelland to reimburse Gervaise for all expenditure made on my behalf.
At first light, summon Pierre and order him to hire a coach to convey Henrietta and myself to Riverside.
A sob caught in her throat.
Why cry? She wanted to return to Riverside with her sister, did she not?
Juliana caught her lower lip between her teeth. She refused to allow herself to answer her own question.
Several uncontrollable sobs escaped her. Until the day she died, she would love her father, in spite of his conversion at the end of his life. And, in spite of her misgivings, she would love Gervaise until she drew her last breath, even if her love remained unfulfilled.
What plans did God have for her? What had she done to deserve unfulfilled love? Had she sinned somehow? Why did God allow her to meet the perfect man for her, only to require she become an apostate in order to marry him? Why did others meet their mates, wed, and live happily? Why was her own path so different, so lonely?
Doctor Anstey, she thought. When I go home, my dear Doctor Anstey will adv
ise me.
She added consult the vicar at Riverside, to her list.
Juliana rested her head on the table between her outstretched arms. She wished she could turn the clock back. Despite Father’s religious convictions, she missed him. As he had in the past, she yearned for him to summon her in the morning to partake of hot chocolate and read the latest news to him while he lay abed and she snuggled up on the large chair by the fire.
* * * *
In the morning, Juliana did not need to hire a coach. With his usual generosity, Gervaise sent a servant to tell her his travelling coach and a fargon were at her disposal. How she wished he had delivered the message in person. It would have provided her with the opportunity to say a few words to him in private.
Her spirits remained low while she and Henrietta breakfasted at the unusually early hour of eight in the morning in order to leave by nine of the clock, and if possible, reach Eastcote, where they would stay overnight, before dark.
After they ate, lackeys conveyed the baggage to the fargon, and she and Henrietta hastened to the nursery to bid its small occupants farewell.
Isabella wound her plump arms around Juliana’s waist. “Please stay.”
She knelt to embrace Isabella, the child she once hoped would be her stepdaughter. “I hope your father will bring you to visit me. Now, please let go of me sweetheart and say goodbye.”
“Do as Mistress Kemp says,” said Grace, who would return to Riverside when another nurse had been found for Isabella.
For a moment, Juliana rested her hand on Grace’s shoulder, before she beckoned to Henrietta, and then descended the stairs with an excruciating sense of loss.
In the hall, Wilson asked her to wait while he informed his master of her imminent departure. Most likely, he also informed Barbara and Ralph who, wearing opulent dressing gowns, came to say adieu. Barbara hugged her. Ralph kissed her lightly on her cheeks and wished her well.
Gervaise, the expression in his eyes wary, and the lines on either side of his mouth deeper than usual, joined them.
In spite of her doubts about his religious convictions, Juliana longed to put her arms around him. Unless she declared her love—and she would not be so bold—she could think of nothing of significance to say, so she expressed her gratitude yet again.
“Come.” As though he wanted to avoid looking at her, Gervaise walked ahead of them out into the rain-swept street beneath a sullen sky. “Make haste, Mistress Kemp, I do not want you or your sister to get wet.”
Heartsick, but appreciative of his habitual consideration, Juliana approached the coach. “Au revoir,” she said, for she could not bear to bid him goodbye. A groom let down the step. Henrietta climbed into the coach and Juliana followed her. The door closed. A whip cracked. The coach rolled forward.
* * * *
Rain poured down on Gervaise as he watched the coach bear Juliana away.
“Come indoors,” Barbara called.
Heedless of puddles dimpled by raindrops, he splashed his way to the front steps. Heartsick, he knew that in the days to come, he would miss Juliana even more than he did now. He had served her to the best of his ability, and wanted to serve her for the rest of his life. With a sigh, he hoped the messenger sent to Riverside House to inform the servants of Juliana and Henrietta’s imminent return, had arrived in time for preparations to be made to receive them.
Isabella, her face tear-stained, ran down the stairs to him.
Grace hurried after her. “I’m sorry, my lord. On our way back to the nursery, Lady Isabella dashed away from me as quick as an eel.”
“Father, I want Mistress Kemp and Henrietta to come back.”
He picked up his tearful little daughter. “So do I,” he whispered in her ear.
While he held his child in his arms, memories of Juliana filled his mind.
* * * *
On the outskirts of Riverside, the villagers, alongside Juliana’s tenant farmers, lined the street. Men cheered, women curtsied, children gave her posies of flowers, and everyone smiled. Telling her they were overjoyed to be rid of William, a team of stalwart young men honoured her by unhitching the horses from the coach and pulling it to the house.
Tears of joy filled Juliana’s eyes. She was not as friendless as she had believed since she parted from Gervaise.
During the following fortnight, old servants returned. They did all they could to make her days pleasant. Grace arrived to take care of Henrietta. Doctor Anstey recommended a personal chaplain, a pleasant young man, who pronounced grace before each meal, and drew her attention to those of her dependents in need. However, although she liked him, she did not yet know the man well enough to consult him about matters closest to her heart.
Juliana’s spirits sank when Henrietta—whom she had anticipated being happy and content at Riverside—begged to return to the companionship of her friends at Mrs Tutchin’s school. With reluctance, Juliana made the arrangements. She soothed Mrs Tutchin’s ruffled feathers with a large donation and sent Henrietta by coach to Highgate in the care of trusted servants.
Lonely after her cheerful little sister’s departure, she spent more and more time in the wooden pavilion where she first met Gervaise. There, she whiled away the hours daydreaming about him or reading. Repeatedly she recalled his kindness and their shared intimacies. She dwelt on the thrill of his touch and how his face softened when he saw her.
Juliana languished. Every day after Henrietta’s departure, her mirror revealed how pale and listless she had grown. Mrs Callender, widow of a clergyman, whom she had employed as her chaperone, fretted about her.
“Instead of pushing your victuals from one side of your plate to the other, you should eat more, Mistress Kemp,” the widow chided with motherly concern.
Juliana knew she ate too little, but for the first time in her life, her appetite had almost deserted her.
Doctor Anstey, in whom she had confided instead of her chaplain, put all her doubts about marrying Gervaise to rest. Indeed, he had smiled benignly when she quoted Gervaise. “Judge not your father for who are you to stand between him and his conscience? Pray God we are never in the predicament in which honest people like us fear to declare their faith.”
Doctor Anstey had responded without compromising his own faith. “Indeed, his lordship is right. God alone knows the secrets of our hearts. If this country had exercised more tolerance during the reign of the first Charles, many poor souls would not have suffered.”
She had thanked him, but still disconsolate a month after Henrietta’s departure, she slipped out of the house. With a copy of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night in her hand, she went to the pavilion with thoughts of Gervaise uppermost in her mind.
* * * *
After he left his coach at Rodger’s post house, Gervaise rode along the river road, memories of the day he first met Juliana vivid in his mind.
In the stable yard at Riverside House, he handed the reins to Sam, who beamed at him. “Who would ’ave thought as the mistress would return. These be ’appy days, sir. An’ glad I am to see you. You’ll find me mistress in the little house in the woods.”
“The pavilion!” Gervaise exclaimed.
He strode out of the stable yard and hurried along the path which led to the place where he had first heard Juliana’s charming voice; a voice that never failed to send shivers of delight down his spine.
Gervaise drew close to the building, which gleamed white against the leaves that had now assumed their scarlet and gold autumn hues. He paused for a moment to use his handkerchief to wipe the dust from his glossy jackboots and then brushed his clothes with his gloved hands.
His beloved’s voice floated out of the open door. “‘She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud feed on her damask cheek: she pin’d in thought,’” Juliana concluded and sighed loudly again and again into the still air.
In response to her musical voice, passion consumed him. He peered through the window. Juliana’s book slipped from her hands on
to the floor. Her body drooped. She appeared so wistful that he yearned to put his arms round her to console her.
How beautiful she looked with pale autumn sunshine streaming through the window onto her glossy black hair. He caught his breath. She had lost weight. Her face was much too thin. Concerned for her well-being, he realised anew how much he had missed her intelligent conversation, the patter of her footsteps, her kindness to his daughter, her voice, her graceful movements, and the summery fragrance of her perfume. How lonely he had been without her.
He stepped into the pavilion. “Pyari,” he said softly, “my dearest one, my love, my heart’s delight.”
Unsure of how she would receive him, he held an oblong velvet box out to her.
Her lips parted in an enchanting smile. “I have been longing to see you,” she breathed, her eyes luminous.
“This is for you.” He put the box on her lap.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
The tip of her tongue visible between her even teeth, Juliana opened the lid. “My pearls!” she exclaimed, her face radiant. “Oh, Gervaise, how kind of you to return the pearls Father gave me. I thank you from the depth of my heart. They mean so much to me.”
“I thought you might be pleased.”
“But how, I mean, when did you retrieve them?”
“On the day you sold the pearls to Valere, I sent you to purchase the rattle for my niece so that I could be alone with him and buy them back for you.”
* * * *
Juliana put the pearls aside and sprang to her feet. She flung her arms around him.
Gervaise hugged her so close to his tall, lean body that it seemed he would never let her go. He bent his head. Her lips parted in eager expectation of his long awaited kiss.
Far Beyond Rubies Page 24