‘Oh, Julie-Annie,’ her mama had said. ‘It is just these bills—tiresome grown-up things. I think the butcher has made a mistake with his reckoning again, but this time I have not the funds to pay the difference.’
‘What difference, Mama? What do you mean?’ Juliana had never been interested in the accounts before. Mama meticulously counted out the money every month and gave some of it to the landlord, some to the butcher, some to the other tradesmen. It had always been that way. Juliana’s father, a soldier, had died of a fever when Juliana was just a baby, so there had only ever been the two of them.
‘It says here that we had a haunch of venison, which I know we did not, for I would surely remember if we ate anything so extravagant. Well, I know we had only the bacon and the squabs this week, and the mutton for stew.’
Juliana was shocked. ‘You mean the butcher has added something to the list that we did not have?’
She took the bill from her mother’s trembling hand. There it was. Venison. They hadn’t eaten venison since April, when they had been invited to the Vicar’s house for dinner.
‘It must be a mistake,’ said Mama. ‘He does make mistakes, sometimes.’
But it wasn’t a mistake. Standing there, in that little parlour, with its faded French rug and damson-coloured curtains, Juliana suddenly understood something for the first time. The butcher was cheating her mother. Cheating both of them.
In an instant, Juliana suddenly made sense of things she had seen and heard before. Some people—unscrupulous people—would see her mother’s gentle nature as an opportunity to cheat her. Mama was so good, so giving, so pliant. But where she saw goodness, others would see opportunity.
‘He is cheating you, Mama! Why should you allow him to do such a thing?’
‘Oh, no, Juliana! It is an honest mistake, that is all. I shall not even mention it.’
Looking into her mother’s angelic, trusting blue eyes, Juliana knew there was no point in trying to persuade her mother of the butcher’s deceit. She would simply not believe it.
In that moment, Juliana understood something else. She and Mama were different. Her twelve-year-old self could not have explained how, or why. But she, Juliana, was different. She saw what Mama could not, would not see. And she could act.
‘I will go with you to the butcher’s tomorrow, Mama.’
This time, when Mrs Milford went to settle her reckoning with the butcher, her daughter was with her. The child calmly explained there had been a mistake with the bill. She made the point in full earshot of three other customers, who tutted in shock that such a thing should happen. The butcher looked into the girl’s resolute, angry gaze and immediately realised he had met his match. He apologised profusely to Mrs Milford, thanked her daughter through gritted teeth for pointing out the error, and assured them it would not happen again.
It hadn’t. And Juliana had been her mother’s guardian ever since.
She turned back, returning to the present and the parlour in Dover. Her mother was pressing her hands to her temples. ‘Mama, are you unwell?’
‘Just a little headache, my dear.’
‘Oh, no! What shall I do? Would you like a tisane? Some tea? Where is that tea?’ She moved to the door. ‘Landlord!’
He bustled towards the parlour, followed by a sullen serving girl carrying a tray.
‘At last! Please set it on the table. Thank you.’
‘Your carriage is prepared, miss, and ready to leave at your convenience.’
Juliana gave him a grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’ Now Mama, finally, could begin to settle.
Chapter Two
An hour later, the ladies left the parlour, Mama, thankfully, now easy and calm. Juliana rang the landlord’s bell in the taproom. She pointedly ignored the two soldiers, who sat at a table opposite the door, enjoying tankards of foaming beer. The one who had spoken to her—the tall one with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes—lifted his head and watched her. She could feel the intensity of his gaze.
The landlord appeared from the back room, all bustle and busyness. ‘I am sorry to keep you waiting, miss.’
‘I should like to pay the reckoning.’
‘Yes, Miss.’ The landlord glanced at Juliana’s mother and his expression changed. ‘Ma’am, you are unwell! May I be of assistance?’
Juliana turned quickly. ‘Mama!’ Her mother looked dreadful. Her normally pale skin was ashen and she was gasping for breath. She seemed to be staring fixedly at a painting on the facing wall—a portrait of a stern-looking army general.
Juliana took Mama’s arm and gently led her to a nearby settle. The two soldiers, who had leapt to their feet, approached with concerned expressions.
‘Oh, dear! I am sorry! I do not wish to make a fuss!’ Mama’s voice was faint and trembled slightly.
‘It is nothing, Mama. You see, you can sit here, until you feel better.’ Juliana was pleased to note that her own voice remained steady, though inside she was distressed. What on earth was wrong with her? And what was she to do?
‘How may I be of assistance?’ The dark-haired soldier spoke softly.
‘We do not need your assistance!’ Juliana hissed. Gathering herself, she added a reluctant, ‘Thank you.’
‘I think you do. Unless—’ his blue eyes pierced hers ‘—you wish to fetch the doctor yourself?’
‘The landlord will do it.’ Mama probably did need a doctor.
‘The landlord cannot leave his inn. And we saw his manservant riding off as we arrived.’
‘Gone to the market,’ confirmed the landlord gloomily. ‘Won’t be back ’til nearly sundown.’
Her mother had closed her eyes and seemed to be concentrating on breathing slowly. Juliana bit her lip. She knew herself to be at a standstill.
‘Quite.’ There was satisfaction in the soldier’s tone. Juliana looked at him. Was that a gleam of enjoyment in his eyes? She stood straighter, then addressed the other soldier, the sandy-haired one.
‘Sir, might I request your assistance?’ She ignored the arrogant soldier completely. ‘I would be grateful if you could fetch the doctor to assist my mother.’
His eyes bulged. ‘Anything! I am at your service!’ He bowed. ‘Lieutenant Roderick Evans, of the Thirtieth Foot.’
Juliana inclined her head. ‘I am Miss Milford. My mother, Mrs Milford.’
He gestured towards his friend, as protocol demanded. ‘Captain Harry Fanton, also of the Thirtieth.’
Captain Fanton bowed ironically. She wasn’t sure how he managed it, but the bow was definitely ironic. Stop! She should be concentrating on Mama. She rubbed her mother’s white hands, speaking softly to her.
‘Mama, this gentleman will fetch the doctor. All will be well.’
‘No! I do not need to see a doctor. I am well.’
Juliana looked at her closely. In truth, her mother did look a little better. She bade Lieutenant Evans wait, then sat by Mama’s side for a few minutes. She closed her eyes. Slowly, the colour began to return to her cheeks. Juliana’s own heart also began to calm a little.
Her mother opened her eyes, a frown appearing as she realised she was being watched by the two soldiers and the landlord. All bore similar expressions of concern, but Juliana was conscious that Mama would hate to be the focus of attention. She turned to Juliana, her eyes pleading. ‘I am ready, Juliana. I wish to travel on. Let us go to the coach.’
‘If you are certain, Mama, then we will go.’ At least in the carriage, her mother would be safe from the kind eyes of strangers. But what if she were truly ill? Oh, how Juliana wished she knew what to do!
Mrs Milford stood, though slowly and carefully. Seeing it, Juliana frowned.
Captain Fanton still looked concerned. ‘Mrs Milford, may I enquire—were you ill during the crossing?’
‘Indeed I was, Captain. The crossing was very rough, you se
e.’
‘Then let me advise you. Stay in Dover tonight. The worst thing you can do is to travel onwards by carriage. It will remind you too much of the movement of the sea.’
‘Oh, but Juliana says we need to travel on tonight. Our rooms are booked in an inn twenty miles from here.’
‘Twenty miles!’ His jaw set. ‘I am concerned you are not well enough to travel.’
Juliana felt her anger rise. How dare he interfere? What did he know of her mother or their needs? She was having trouble enough trying to decide what was best, without an interfering stranger trying to influence Mama!
‘I thank you, sir...’ her voice dripped with contempt ‘...but we have no need of your advice. Or your concern.’
He sent her a cold look. ‘I intended no insult. I meant only to help.’
Mrs Milford spoke, shakily. ‘Thank you for your kindness, Captain Fanton, but I am quite well.’
Juliana bit her lip. Mama was not recovered, it was clear, and that insufferable man might be right. Her mother would surely benefit from a quiet evening in the inn, rather than a long coach journey, but how was she to back down now?
‘Landlord, we shall retire once more to your parlour. You may tell the coachman to wait. Lieutenant, I should be grateful if you would fetch the doctor.’
‘Oh, no, Juliana, but we must travel on. Our room is reserved and if we do not leave soon we shall be too late.’
‘We shall discuss it in private, Mama.’
‘Landlord! Do you have another chamber free—one suitable for these ladies?’ Captain Fanton took it upon himself to question their host. Juliana’s fury increased. Really!
The landlord confirmed it.
Captain Fanton addressed Mrs Milford. ‘We can vouch for the rooms here in the King’s Head, for we have stayed here many times.’ He glanced at Lieutenant Evans, who shuffled in discomfort, clearly unwilling to be drawn into the battle of wills between his commanding officer and a young lady they had never met before.
Juliana was now fuming. This was intolerable interference! What business was it of his what they did?
‘If I wish for your opinion, on inns, or any other matter, then I shall ask for it!’ She sent him a daggered glance, then turned back to her mother. ‘Mama, come with me to the parlour.’
Mrs Milford, always polite, thanked the two men before allowing Juliana to take her arm and lead her from the taproom. Juliana ignored them.
The landlord followed them back to the parlour, where Juliana immediately saw Mama settled again in the chair beside the fire. She then quizzed the landlord on all the possible inns in the area. None, it seemed, would suit their purposes, either being full, as far as he knew, or unsuitable for the Quality.
‘Then we have no choice. We must stay here.’
The landlord, who had clearly been troubled by the altercations between the fiery young lady and Captain Fanton, confirmed this with an air of resignation.
‘You may tell the coachman to return in the morning. We require a chamber with two beds, and I shall inspect the sheets.’ He nodded resignedly and left, in his haste omitting to close the door behind him.
Juliana turned to her mother. ‘How are you feeling now, Mama?’
‘Much, much better. Juliana, I do wish we had travelled on.’
‘Captain Fanton did not advise it.’ There was a hard edge to Juliana’s voice.
‘Did you dislike the Captain? I thought him a charming young gentleman. So obliging!’
‘I did not find him charming in the least! In fact, I found him conceited, rude and arrogant! He had no business interfering in—’
She broke off, as the object of her tirade appeared in the doorway, her mother’s reticule in his hand.
‘Mrs Milford, I believe you dropped this.’ Captain Fanton’s voice dripped with ice, his jaw set into a hard line. His eyes, connecting with Juliana’s, flashed fury.
He marched smartly across to her mother’s chair, handed her the reticule, bowed and left.
Juliana stood stock still for a moment, as the realisation of her own rudeness washed over her. Her face flushed. She put both hands up to cover her embarrassment.
‘Juliana! How could you?’ Her mother’s voice signalled her shock.
‘Oh, I know, I know,’ Juliana groaned. ‘But how was I to know he would come sneaking up on me, eavesdropping at the door?’
‘He was not eavesdropping! Juliana, I do not understand what has come over you. Indeed, I am most disappointed in you today and now you have insulted that young man. How many times have I told you that your behaviour must be beyond reproach? I knew no good would come of going to England. I just knew it!’ Mama began to cry.
Juliana rushed to her mother and knelt by her side.
‘Oh, Mama, indeed I am sorry! My dashed temper got the better of me—and it has not done so in years! I can only blame the long journey and his rudeness earlier. Perhaps I, too, am more tired than I knew. I do not normally behave so, you know this!’
Her mother’s eyes were sorrowful. ‘I am surprised, Daughter. If there is one thing I wished, it was to raise you to be a lady, not a termagant! You know how hard it was for me as a widow, raising you by myself. And you know that you must give no reason for anyone to question your behaviour!’ Her mother began to sob gently into a lace-edged handkerchief.
Shaken by the knowledge that she was the cause of her mother’s distress, Juliana just managed to hold back her own tears. Over the years Mama had drummed it into her that she must be ladylike, circumspect, and wary at all times. She must not draw attention to herself. Her reputation was a fragile thing. The consequences of attracting gossip could be fatal to her place in good company.
There were reasons, her mother always said, that she couldn’t divulge, why Juliana must be even more careful than other young ladies. What reasons? Juliana had asked, many times. Her mother had resolutely refused to answer.
Conscious of her mother’s frailty, Juliana had complied—though it had frequently cost her to hold her tongue and behave properly. Today’s lapse was inexcusable. She spent so much of her energies devoting herself to protecting her mother, yet now she had troubled her. ‘I am sorry, Mama. I truly am.’
Her mother, unable to withstand her daughter’s remorse, stroked Juliana’s dark curls.
‘I know, Julie-Annie.’
‘I hate it when you are disappointed in me.’
‘You should apologise to him.’ Mama held her gaze evenly.
Juliana swallowed hard. ‘I know.’
‘Invite them to join us in the parlour. They can dine with us later.’
‘Must I?’ Her mother’s stern look was enough. ‘Very well. But you cannot force me to like him.’
Steeling herself to face him, Juliana moved swiftly along the narrow hallway to the taproom. There he was, glowering into his beer. Lieutenant Evans had gone—presumably to fetch the doctor.
Juliana lifted her chin. ‘Captain Fanton, I must speak with you.’
He looked at her. His eyes narrowed. ‘Well?’
Such insolence! She clenched her fists by her side, managing to hold back the angry retort on her lips.
Deliberately, he leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. Long, sturdy legs, she noted absent-mindedly. The thin breeches hugged his long limbs, revealing the curve and sweep of well-developed, powerful muscles. She had heard that some men filled their stockings with sawdust, to falsify muscular calves. Not this man! She felt herself flushing, unaccountably.
Ignoring his attempt to disconcert her, she pressed on. ‘I wish to apologise. You should not have had to hear my angry words.’
A gleam of surprise lit his dark-blue eyes. ‘Are you apologising for saying what you said, or only for allowing me to hear your opinion?’
Oh, he was sharp-witted, this one.
‘I would have
preferred you hadn’t heard me, but...’ she sighed ruefully ‘...I should not have said those things. My anger got the better of me.’
‘A frank apology, then. I admire plain speaking and will accept it.’ He offered his hand. Reluctantly, she took it.
His hand was warm, his grip firm without being crushing. She pulled her hand away as soon as she could and noticed a wolf-like smile lurking in the corner of his eyes. Her hackles rose again. A lifetime of protecting herself and Mama had made her wary.
‘My mother bids me invite you and Lieutenant Evans to join us in the parlour for dinner in one hour,’ she informed him.
‘And what would you bid me do?’ His voice was soft, warm, confusing.
‘I would prefer to dine in private, with only my mother. I do not wish to prolong my acquaintance with you!’
He looked surprised for an instant, then threw his head back and laughed. Despite her frustration, she could not help but notice, in that moment, that he was actually very handsome. Acknowledging it—though she had realised it from the first moment she had laid eyes on him—caused her a great deal of annoyance. Why couldn’t his face match his character?
‘You are refreshingly honest, Miss Milford. But, I must point out, it seems your mother holds a different view.’
‘My mother is unwell. She would be better resting quietly in the parlour than conversing with strangers, which will tire her out! But then, your aim from the start has been to gain access to the parlour!’
His eyes flashed. She had scored a hit then? Good.
‘Indeed?’ he said coolly. ‘I did not think you cared so much for your mother’s comfort earlier, when you were bustling her towards the carriage when she was clearly unwell! Or when you wanted to take her away from the warmth, to the taproom, rather than share the parlour!’
Juliana gasped. ‘And what business is it of yours, may I ask?’
‘In a sense, none. But I am used to considering the needs of those around me and I saw how ill she looked in this very room!’
‘Are you suggesting I fail to consider my mother’s needs?’ She was livid. No one had ever dared suggest such a thing. Why, she had devoted all her energies to looking after her mother!
The Captain's Disgraced Lady Page 2