‘Juliana, there are things I cannot tell you. Things that you want to know. Information you ought to know. But I—I simply can’t. Not yet.’
Should she tell Mama that she already knew? That General Hunter had, not an hour ago, confirmed it all himself?
‘I promise I will tell you all of it—even the parts I am ashamed of. But not yet and not here.’
Juliana’s eyes misted. Mama was being so strong, so brave. ‘I do not need you to tell me anything right now,’ she murmured. ‘We can talk when it seems right to you.’
‘I have made a decision, Juliana. We are going home, to Brussels.’
Juliana frowned in confusion. ‘Do you mean when the war is over?’
‘No. We must go as soon as we may—within a few weeks.’
‘So soon?’ Juliana was aghast. ‘But why?’
‘It is necessary.’ Mama began pacing again. ‘We must reach Brussels safely before Napoleon moves his armies too far north. We will travel via Ostend. We either go soon, or we may be stranded in England for months.’
‘And would that be so terrible? We have good friends here, a comfortable situation. You do like it here, Mama? Don’t you?’
‘Of course! Dear Charlotte has been so kind and her Adam is a true gentleman.’
Juliana had to ask. ‘And you like all of them, don’t you? Olivia and Great-Aunt Clara, and Harry?’
She slipped his name in at the end of her list, needing to talk about him, desperate to hear that Mama liked him.
‘Yes, I do. Olivia is a delightful young lady and Clara is a dear friend.’
‘And Harry?’ Juliana held her breath.
Mama gave her a stern look. ‘If you remember, I appreciated Harry’s good qualities from the first time we met—unlike you, who wanted only to fuss and argue with him.’
‘That is true.’ Juliana blushed a little at the memory of how rude she and Harry had been to each other, that first day.
‘I will tell you something now, Juliana. Harry is the most amiable, the most charming and the most reliable young man I have met in many a year. He is like a son to me. I have come to depend on him and to appreciate how he cares for us both. I know you have not always seen eye to eye, but I truly believe he has your interests at heart.’
Juliana felt her blush mount. Seeing it, her mother looked a little surprised, then her eyes narrowed. Shying from her mother’s perceptive gaze, Juliana attempted to divert her. ‘I still do not understand why we must leave soon. It would be much less dangerous to wait until the armies have battled and we will then know if it is safe to cross France.’
‘It must be soon. There are reasons—but I do not wish to dwell on it. It will take a few weeks to arrange everything. I will ask Adam if his steward can organise our passage. We will also need to hire a coach to take us to the coast. Then there will be inns to be written to, a coach to take us through France... I have begun to make a list. I do not wish for you to be involved in the arrangements, as you did when we travelled here. Coming to England was your project, your mission, so you had the organising of it. Returning home is mine and I will do it myself.’
‘But, Mama,’ Juliana protested, ‘We cannot simply—’
‘You will heed me in this, Juliana. My mind is made up.’
Juliana looked at her, recognising a new firmness in her mother’s expression. For some reason, Mama believed it was important to return home now, war or no war. And she was absolutely determined, that was clear. What did it all mean?
She nodded. ‘Very well, Mama.’
* * *
Dinner that evening was a strange affair. The conversation was led by Mrs Milford, who normally was the quietest person at the table. It was as though she had found a new energy—a zest and vigour that had not been there before. Juliana had never seen her so animated. She sparkled and questioned, and was interested in everyone and everything.
Juliana did not know what to make of it. Her own mother had transformed before her eyes. While it seemed to be a good thing, part of her wondered if it was in fact some sort of feverish manifestation of a continuing underlying malaise. She watched, bewildered, as Mama drew Olivia out with some gentle teasing on the topic of Mr Nightingale.
‘Does he still encourage you to arrange a picnic in Vauxhall, Olivia?’
A slight crease appeared on Olivia’s brow. ‘He does. I believe a picnic would be an excellent adventure, but I should not like Mr Nightingale to think—that is to say, he might inadvertently have had the wrong impression—’
Adam looked at her keenly. ‘What is it, little one? Has he said something that he ought not?’
Olivia smiled briefly at her brother’s endearment. ‘Oh, no! He is ever the gentleman! But...’
Harry, who was seated in his usual place on Juliana’s left side, chortled softly. ‘I see it! He has fallen out of favour.’
Olivia blushed and applied herself to her asparagus. ‘He seems to think he is the only man I should talk to. He is most agreeable, but I do not like it when he thinks he has some sort of special position.’
‘You must be bold, Olivia!’ It was Mrs Milford. ‘If you are not careful, you will become a passenger in your own life. You must steer your ship, make your choices and follow what your heart tells you.’
Juliana knew her mouth was hanging open. She shut it and exchanged a look with Harry. His was filled with admiration—and a good deal of amusement. Juliana, while understanding how the others were enjoying this new, assertive Mrs Milford, was mostly confused. What on earth had happened to create this change?
‘But what if I choose wrong?’ asked Olivia, in a small voice. ‘I was so looking forward to my first Season, but it is much more difficult than I anticipated.’
Mrs Milford gave her a kind look. ‘What does your heart tell you?’
A series of expressions flitted over Olivia’s face—surprise, doubt, then certainty. She squared her shoulders. ‘I must let Mr Nightingale know that, while I admire him and I like him, I cannot—I mean, I do not think I could like him above all others.’
‘You see? You know what is right. Now, do not doubt yourself.’ Mama’s gaze dropped and she added softly, ‘I wish someone had advised me so, when I was young.’
‘We can still have a picnic, you know,’ offered Charlotte, ‘but we will go with Adam and Harry, instead of Mr Nightingale. Perhaps in a couple of weeks.’
‘Really?’ Olivia’s eyes were alight with excitement. ‘And can we stay into the evening, to see the fireworks?’
Adam nodded. ‘If it will make you happy. But you must stay with us at all times.’
‘Oh, I will!’ Olivia smiled happily. ‘But what about Mr Nightingale?’
Harry leaned forward and, in a conspiratorial whisper, told her, ‘I will advise you. I know all the ways by which you can rid yourself of Mr Nightingale, without ever enacting a drama. You will need to be tactical, and disciplined, but together we will make a plan.’
Olivia clapped her hands in delight. A moment later, she frowned. ‘You will not ask me to be unkind? I sincerely admire Mr Nightingale and I would not do anything to upset him or hurt his feelings.’
‘Never fear, chit. You are in the hands of an expert. You will do it gradually, but firmly. He will come to understand that he holds no special place in your affections. All will be well.’ Harry winked at her and Olivia replied with a tremulous smile.
Juliana, watching, felt a shadow of doubt. This reminded her of the old Harry. She shook off the feeling—after all, she knew him much better now. And he was right. It would be good if he could advise Olivia how to extricate herself from Mr Nightingale’s expectations without hurting his feelings.
* * *
After dinner, when the gentlemen joined them in the drawing room, Harry drew Juliana to one side. ‘I must speak with you, for I have news that may interest you.’ He took her hand and led her t
o a satin-covered sofa near the window, out of earshot of her mother and the others, who were eagerly discussing the possible picnic.
The touch of his hand sent a thrill through Juliana and she gladly sat with him, keen for a private moment’s conversation. Checking with a glance that the others were not watching, he gazed at her hungrily. Juliana’s heart began to pound. It really was amazing how, now she knew her own feelings, everything about him was interesting to her. She searched his face, thrilling in committing to memory his beloved features.
‘I have news for you, too—and you may not like it.’
He frowned. ‘Tell me.’
‘No, you first.’ The thought of leaving him—leaving all of them—to return to Brussels sat like a lead weight in the bottom of her stomach. While she knew he would soon travel to France himself, to risk his life in the war against Napoleon, she preferred not to think of it. Somehow, she needed to pretend everything would stay the same. That they could talk and walk in the park, and kiss each other, without threat of war or scandal to pull them apart. It was coming. She knew it. He might be killed in the war and, even if he wasn’t, there was no way for them to marry—an Earl’s brother simply could not marry beneath him, and an illegitimate girl could not expect anything from him.
There was no point in thinking of marriage, anyway, with the threat of war on the horizon. Thousands of young men had died in the last engagements with Napoleon. Now the Emperor had escaped his prison and was once more amassing an army, further conflict was inevitable. She knew it. And Captain Harry Fanton knew it, too.
All they might ever have would be these last weeks, before she and Mama left for Brussels. Her mother had talked of organising their return for next month. A cold hand gripped her heart as she imagined trying to say goodbye to Harry. How had he suddenly become so dear to her? The answer came immediately. It had not been sudden at all. Her love for him had been growing since the day they met. That intense attraction could not be ignored, which was why she had gone through the agonies of questioning him, challenging him and, finally, concluding she could trust him.
It was too late. He was as essential to her as breathing. She knew he felt it, too, for how could he not? While it seemed amazing to her that he should love her, she knew in her heart, in her bones, that he did. Never had she felt so attuned to another person. His large, strong hand enveloped hers, his eyes held hers and she felt the strangest combination of excitement and peace.
‘Today I met with my informant—the man who has contacts in the bank.’
Juliana was puzzled. ‘But we already know General Hunter has been sending Mama’s allowance to Brussels.’
‘Yes—though we did not know that for sure when I engaged him. But he had more to tell me—and not all of it was clear.’
‘Go on.’ Juliana had no idea what to expect.
‘He says information on General Hunter’s financial affairs has never been more in demand. His source claims to have been paid by at least two other parties for the same information—details of the General’s funding for you and your mother.’
Juliana thought quickly. ‘Presumably the Wakelys were one source of his lucrative bribes! Mr Wakely already told Charlotte he had used some of his unexpected fortune to seek out information which would be harmful to me and Mama.’
‘Yes—and I presume the Wakelys were motivated by a misplaced desire to gain Charlotte’s gratitude. He says Mr Wakely mentioned that General Hunter had called on your mama here—which means that the rumours, I am sorry to say, must have their source in this house. Some of the staff, or possibly a guest, has been indiscreet.’
Juliana gave an unladylike snort, thinking of Henrietta and Millicent’s recent disdain. ‘Or vindictive.’
He pondered this. ‘Possibly. I will ask Charlotte to discreetly question the butler and housekeeper about their staff.’
Juliana kept her opinions to herself. ‘So who was the other person asking questions about us?’
‘My contact would not say—save to mention that they were a perfectly respectable party, seeking information in respect of a legal matter.’
‘A legal matter? What legal matter?’
‘He could not say. I do not believe he knew anything else. Now, tell me, have you or your mama ever had any dealings with lawyers, or come under threat from anyone with respect to the law?’
‘No! We have been boringly and consistently honest in all our dealings. It is possible, I suppose, that Mama has been holding some other secret from me...’ Juliana glanced across at her mother, who was laughing gently at some witticism from Adam ‘...but you understand Mama by now. Why, she is the sweetest, most transparent person I know! Her life is limited only by the fears and anxieties in her head—and breaking the law would not, I think, be something she would ever do.’
He considered this. ‘That is my impression, too. Do not forget, though, she does talk of being ashamed and seeks to hide from people. We know she carries some secrets in her heart. If there is something dangerous, like a legal matter where she is at risk of some action against her, then we can only help her if she reveals it.’
‘Yes, but we know her secrets relate to my birth and parentage. She was attacked, or seduced, and ran away—or was sent away—to hide that shame. Coming back to England, meeting General Hunter again, must have been so trying for her, yet she has done it.’
‘Is that why she has changed, do you think? I have never seen her so well as she is today. Are her burdens lighter?’
‘She is certainly transformed. Perhaps meeting the General again has been cathartic for her. Though he wounded her when he came here, she has recovered well and she can now perhaps look forward to the future with a new perspective.’
His thumb was gently caressing her palm. The sensation was wonderfully distracting and was causing disturbing responses throughout her body. She swallowed and dropped her eyes to their joined hands. Without quite understanding why, she felt her breathing had quickened. There was not enough air in her lungs. His thumb continued its work, slowly, gently. She took a deep ragged breath, and exhaled heavily. Raising her eyes to his, she was silenced by the passion blazing there. ‘Juliana!’ he groaned quietly.
Chapter Seventeen
She could not speak. She could only look at him, lost in the same ecstatic agony. They remained like that, for a terrible, wonderful moment, then a change came over him. His jaw hardened. He set her hand into her own lap, and disengaged his. She saw his chest heaving—his breathing was as disturbed as hers! Casting a sidelong glance at the others to ensure they weren’t being scrutinised, he muttered, through clenched teeth, ‘I do not understand this power you have over me, Juliana. I have never felt this way.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Never?’
He nodded grimly. ‘Never. I am not sure I like it.’
She understood exactly what he meant. There was a vulnerability in it. They each had the power to inflict tremendous hurt on the other. And while she could not imagine them doing so deliberately, the shadows that would separate them were already gathering.
‘I am leaving England.’ The words were out before she had time to even consider them.
‘What? When?’ He looked shocked.
‘Soon. Mama has decided she wishes to return to Brussels as soon as it may be arranged.’
‘But—it is not safe! War is coming. Napoleon’s power increases by the day, along with his armies. He aims to conquer all of Europe.’
‘She believes we will be safe and wants us to get through France before the battles begin. She wants to go home to Brussels.’
‘Keeping to northern France is certainly a little less dangerous, but the situation is changing by the day. Can she not be persuaded?’
‘I was unable to manage it. The thought of being home is, I think, part of the reason why she is so happy today.’
Distractedly, he ran his hand throug
h his hair, leaving a lock falling forward on to his brow. Juliana resisted the temptation to smooth it back.
‘May I speak with her? Try to dissuade her?’
‘Of course! I wish you would. But—’ Juliana spoke earnestly, needing him to understand this ‘—if she truly wants to go, then I will not deny her.’
‘I know.’ His expression was grim. Juliana could hardly blame him. She, too, was concerned at the notion of travelling back to France on the eve of war. While she knew many society families living in mainland Europe had vowed to stay in their homes, very few would choose to return from safety to danger. Memories of the Terror that had happened a generation before, when so many people had lost their lives, still haunted those Juliana had grown up with.
‘I know I must go there myself—it is my duty. But I expected to go knowing that everyone important to me would be safe here.’ His gaze became unfocused. ‘At once, I have someone to fight for and someone to worry about. Make no mistake—’ he brought his focus back to her ‘—I will fight for you and for my family. I will do whatever it takes to keep you from harm.’
She rested her hand on his arm. ‘But you must fight safely, if there is such a thing. You told me about those men who fight in a passion of hatred. Please, do not be blinded by emotion when you are in battle. I need you to be safe.’ Her voice dropped. ‘I need you to live!’
His eyes blazed into hers. ‘Juliana, can you promise me you will take no unnecessary risks as you journey into danger?’
‘Of course!’ She had no intention of risking herself, or her mother. She needed to get them safely to Brussels, then hope that Napoleon’s imperial ambitions would pass them by. Perhaps she could persuade her mother to delay a few weeks more and the situation with Napoleon might become a little clearer.
‘Mama will not allow me to help her plan our journey. However, she might listen to you. If she insists on travelling, can you advise her on the safest route and help her engage guards as outriders?’
‘Naturally I will. Though it fills me with dread just to consider you making such a journey.’
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