by Georgie Lee
The door opened. This time it wasn’t Mrs Petit, but Lord Jarsdel who entered.
‘Is everything all right, Miss Radcliff? You’ve been gone from the ballroom for a long time.’
‘Yes, only I haven’t had a moment to myself all night.’ Despite his kindness, she couldn’t admit her mistake with Luke and have him think less of her than she already thought of herself.
‘I saw Major Preston leave. Is everything all right between the two of you?’
‘There’s nothing between us any more.’ Her voice cracked and she closed her mouth, afraid to say too much for fear the dam inside her would break. Once she began to cry, for herself, her mother and everything she’d lost and would never have, she feared it wouldn’t stop.
Lord Jarsdel nodded sagely, not gloating over his rival’s departure. Her anger lost some of its edge under his calming presence. He didn’t press her to speak, or ask her awkward questions, but remained with her so she wasn’t alone. She appreciated the gesture. She needed friends now. Grace, Rachel and Isabel were too far away.
The clock on the mantel chimed eleven times.
‘We should be getting back.’ She wasn’t sure how she would maintain her composure in a room full of strangers determined to stare at her. In the past they’d ignored her, she wished they would again, but they wouldn’t. It would be like facing down Lady Huntford the day after she and Luke had made love. She must endure it, like everything else in her life, and not speak out or complain. Frustration chipped at her as hard as disappointment. She’d spoken up about Luke and it had won her nothing except a broken heart.
‘Before we go, I’d like to ask you something,’ Lord Jarsdel began, his usual steadfastness ruffling around the edges.
Joanna clasped her hands in front of her, having an inkling of what he might say. She would have stopped him a few hours ago but so much had changed since then. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m sure you’re aware, your grandfather is very interested in us marrying.’
She remained silent and the part of her which had come alive under Luke’s touch settled back to sleep. She let it. It was no longer of any use to her.
Lord Jarsdel approached, his confidence tempered by humility. ‘I may not be as dashing or young as Major Preston, but I’ll be a kind and respectful husband. With me you’ll have a home of your own and children. We can be happy together. Miss Radcliff, will you marry me?’
He held out his hand, silently urging her to take it.
She studied the lines of his white glove crossing his palm. Here was an earl willing to raise a former governess to a countess, to openly share his life and wealth with her despite the rumours. It spoke to his good character, yet all she could think was, he’s not Luke. In the end, Luke had abandoned her, too ashamed of her to resist whatever influence her grandfather had exercised over him. Lord Jarsdel wanted her for better or worse. She didn’t have to accept him. She could take her grandfather’s money and remain single, but it seemed a very lonely life.
She glanced past him to the silent portrait of her mother. Her mother hadn’t found lasting contentment with the man she’d loved and neither had Joanna, but it didn’t mean Joanna must remain alone. In Lord Jarsdel’s offer was the chance to be a wife and to give future children security and a place in society. It wasn’t a grand passion, but the safe and sensible arrangement her grandfather wanted for her. Joanna had followed her mother’s advice, and her heart, and it had resulted in rejection and sorrow. It was time to follow her head and sensible guidance.
She laid her hand in his, unable to meet his eyes as she answered, ‘Yes. I will marry you.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘Let’s raise another glass to Major Preston. In two weeks he’ll be back kicking Napoleon across Spain.’ Captain Arnold toasted and the gathered officers lifted their tankards and shouted.
‘Huzzah!’
Their cheers echoed through the walls of the Army Service Club in St James’s Street, a rollicking London refuge for officers on leave between campaigns or on half-pay. The white-plastered walls were lined with portraits of battles, rearing horses and solemn officers in full dress.
Luke raised his tankard, too, but set it aside while his mates drained theirs. The red coat felt heavy on his shoulders and the tinkling of his medals as he moved irritated him today. He’d borrowed a tidy sum to buy back his major’s epaulets, to get away from London and Joanna. Even with the money already spent, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.
Lord Beckwith, who stood out in the sea of red uniforms in his Horse Guard blues, slapped Luke on the back. ‘Not having a change of heart, are you?’
‘No.’ Although he should.
His parents had tried to talk him out of re-enlisting, for the first time allowing their anguish over his safety to show. In it he’d seen that it wasn’t the family line they feared dying, but their son. Luke had no intention of getting himself killed, even if, at the moment, a bullet through the chest seemed preferable to the ache lodged there since his last meeting with Joanna.
‘Too bad. I still believe you’d better serve the military here than risking becoming cannon fodder in Spain.’ Lord Beckwith took a sip of his port, preferring the genteel and more potent spirit to the common one being consumed en masse around them. ‘I can still find you a place at Whitehall. It isn’t too late.’
Yes, it is. He’d read the announcement in the papers about Joanna’s engagement to Lord Jarsdel and their wedding date. Remaining in London where he would see the new Lady Jarsdel at every social event of the Season wasn’t his idea of a good time. ‘No, I’m going back to Spain.’
Another cheer went up from the gathered men, this one louder and more enthusiastic than before. Officers crowded around someone Luke couldn’t see near the door. They’d already saluted Wellington’s health, the ladies of Drury Lane and Luke. There wasn’t much left to give them a reason to drink, although they hardly needed one. They’d toast any old sod for a sip.
‘Captain Mercer must have smuggled in a few actresses again?’ Lord Beckwith mumbled. Women without reputations were the only ones who could enter a club in St James’s without being ruined and even they had a difficult go of it.
Luke tried to peer through the mass of drunk and celebrating men, but it was difficult to tell one red coat from another. ‘I don’t think they’re cheering for a woman.’
Then the group parted and Luke almost dropped his tankard.
‘Having a party without me, are you?’ Reginald threw open his arms as he approached Luke. He was leaner, his hair longer and touching the dirty collar of his coat. The circles beneath his eyes were thicker, too, but his smile was as wide as ever.
‘You’re alive.’ Luke shoved the tankard at Lord Beckwith and rushed to grab his friend in a hearty embrace.
‘I’ve been gone for ages and you don’t even offer me a drink.’ Reginald laughed as Luke stepped back.
‘I’ll buy you a whole bottle.’ The heavy mood which had crushed Luke for the last two weeks began to lift as he sat down with Reginald. A bottle was procured and with it cold meat and cheese. Reginald ate and drank while regaling everyone with the harrowing account of how he and the squad had barely escaped being caught in a narrow pass and had ended up trapped behind enemy lines. They’d avoided capture for weeks by dodging patrols, collecting intelligence and being sheltered by sympathetic Spaniards.
‘One Spanish family hid us in their barn for a week. Seeing them made me realise I’d like one of my own and a more settled life.’ Reginald threw his worn boots up on the table. After rounds and rounds of good cheer, the two of them had been left alone near the corner to speak. ‘I’m grateful for the help you gave my sister. All the men were thankful to come home and find their families not starving.’
‘It was the least I could do.’
‘Now, let me help you. How com
e, at your hail and farewell, you look like a man about to be hanged? What’s been going on since I left you at the Bull?’ Reginald took an ivory toothpick out of his coat pocket and slipped it between his lips.
Luke rapped his knuckles against the top of the table. ‘The woman I love is at the church today, about to marry another man.’
* * *
The bells rang, one after another, their deep toll reverberating through the old church. Joanna sat in the still of the vestry room, waiting for her grandfather to collect her for the service. The white-silk wedding dress covering her was soft against her skin and she worried a small section of lace on the cuff between her thumb and forefinger. The last two weeks had been a flurry of activity to prepare for today. The dress had been rushed to be sewn, the special licence secured, the wedding breakfast arranged and a bevy of invitations sorted and sent. She’d been thankful for the activity. During the day it had kept her distracted, but at night, when it was quiet, her conscience tortured her. It still did.
I shouldn’t marry Lord Jarsdel, I don’t love him. She rose and crossed the marble floor, her veil whispering against her dress with each step. He didn’t love her, but his caring way was reminiscent of Miss Fanworth’s. There were worse men she could wed, someone like Lieutenant Foreman who might abandon a lady when she needed him most, or someone like Luke who’d never cared at all.
I should have listened to Grandfather.
She made a turn, flipping the veil behind her so as not to step on it. Her grandfather had tried to guide her with Luke but she’d resisted. Yet she’d followed his counsel in this instance, and instead of being a radiant bride she was fretting.
She crossed the room again, her feet falling faster and faster on the stone. She wished Grace, Isabel and Rachel were here to make her see how marrying Lord Jarsdel, like Isabel marrying Mr Balfour, was the best decision she could make. Despite Joanna sending them invitations, none of them had been able to come for the hastily arranged affair, not even Madame Dubois. She and Miss Fanworth had pleaded the expense for sending their regrets. It meant all the guests in the pews were friends of her grandfather or her fiancé and there were few in the church for her. She was almost as alone as the day in Hertfordshire when she’d stumbled upon her grandfather in the graveyard. It made what was supposed to be a happy day even more dreary.
The church bells ceased their ringing and the deep tones of the organ began to fill the room. Joanna stopped in panic to listen. The time for the ceremony was quickly approaching.
‘My dear, you look gorgeous.’ Her grandfather entered, regal in his new dark green coat and gold waistcoat. He’d been near fluttering with elation for the last three days. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
‘What is it?’ She tried to meet his announcement with the appropriate pleasure and gratitude. It was growing more difficult with each organ note to stand still, much less appear excited.
He pulled open the door and waved to someone outside. ‘I couldn’t let the day pass without doing this for you.’
Madame Dubois stepped into the room. She was in her Sunday best, a dark blue velvet dress with a high collar rimmed in white lace. Her hair was done up in her usual tight twist, but the smile gracing her lips and lighting her grey eyes softened the severity of her appearance. She appeared to Joanna as she imagined a mother would on the day of her daughter’s wedding, proud, thrilled and with the mist of tears in her eyes.
Instead of squealing in delight at her arrival, Joanna burst into tears.
For the first time ever, Madame Dubois came to her and enveloped her in a tender hug. Joanna held her tight while sobs shook her entire body.
‘Perhaps you should leave us alone for a while,’ Madame suggested to her grandfather, who stared at them, stunned by Joanna’s response.
‘I think you’re right.’ He backed out of the room, drawing the door closed behind him.
Madame held Joanna tight until the sobs began to subside.
‘What’s wrong, Miss Radcliff?’ Her pointed question, delivered with the same authority as when she used to speak at the school, snapped Joanna out of her crying.
Joanna rubbed her wet cheeks with the back of her hands. ‘I don’t want to marry Lord Jarsdel.’
‘Sit down, we must talk.’ She guided Joanna to the sofa beneath the window, then laced her hands together in front of her and raised one sharp eyebrow. ‘Tell me why, despite standing in your wedding dress, you don’t want to marry him.’
The words began to pour out of Joanna while they sat in the warm sunlight falling through the window. Joanna told Madame everything about her relationship with Luke, their meeting at the ball, in the woods, even their night at the vicarage and his saying he loved her. She described his having left her, and how it had led to her accepting Lord Jarsdel.
‘You must think I’m foolish to not want to marry an earl.’ Joanna sniffed, too wrung out to fear Madame’s disappointment in her being so misguided about so many things. ‘Or for being so weak with Major Preston.’
‘You’re not foolish for having followed your heart. I wish I had.’
‘You?’ This silenced Joanna’s sniffles.
Madame rested her hands on her lap and a remorse Joanna had only seen the time she’d spied her in the garden with the letter came over her. ‘When I was young, I fell in love with the oldest son of a titled man. It wasn’t a girlish passion or a backstairs liaison, but real and true love. He wanted to marry me, but I was in no position to claim a place as his wife. Not wanting to stop him from fulfilling his role as the heir, I refused him. He married a woman he didn’t love because of it and I lost him. I’ve regretted it every day of my life since.’
‘Oh, Madame.’ Joanna grasped her hands in sympathy. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Because I never told you.’ Madame covered Joanna’s hand with her other one, clasping it in her tender grip. ‘I haven’t always been the most mothering of guardians to you, but I believed if I didn’t coddle you, you’d grow up strong and prepared to face the difficulties and challenges of life. I was right. Already you’ve dealt with so much and so well. You’ve made me as proud as any mother can be of her daughter.’
Joanna’s heart stilled and tears threatened to overcome her again. She’d been so wrong about Madame and everything. ‘All my life I prayed for a real family, but I shouldn’t have, not when I already had one in you and Miss Fanworth and my friends. Instead of appreciating them, I kept looking for something else. I shouldn’t have.’
‘We’re all capable of not seeing what’s in front of us while reaching for something else. It takes great courage to admit it and to reject other people’s plans in favour of your own.’ She settled back and looked down at Joanna just as she used to whenever she wished to impart something important to her. ‘It is time for you to be courageous, Miss Radcliff, and to tell everyone exactly what you want.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’
A knock at the door interrupted them.
‘Is everything well in there?’ Her grandfather’s anxious voice followed.
Madame Dubois rose with her usual elegance and crossed the room to open the door.
‘Lord Helmsworth, Miss Radcliff has something she wishes to discuss with you.’
She didn’t remain, but slipped outside, leaving Joanna and her grandfather alone. He rushed up to her, concern clouding his aged blue eyes.
‘What’s the matter?’
Joanna took a bracing breath. Once the words were out there’d be no taking them back, but she must be brave and trust in his love. ‘I can’t go through with the wedding.’
She explained to him everything she and Madame Dubois had discussed. Her grandfather stared at the floor beneath her feet while she spoke, rubbing his chin in contemplation. She wasn’t sure what he thought, but she kept speaking, revealing everything in her heart, especially his pla
ce in it.
‘I appreciate all you’ve done for me. It’s the whole reason I agreed to this marriage.’
His hands stilled on his chin and at last he looked up at her, not angry or disappointed but accepting. ‘I suspected as much. Many times over the last two weeks I have thought I was imagining your distress. I told myself that once you married Lord Jarsdel everything would be well. I was mistaken. You were suffering in an effort to make me happy. I was wrong to allow it to continue and to do what I did with Major Preston.’
Shock rippled through Joanna. ‘What do you mean?’
Her grandfather took in a deep breath before he continued. ‘I offered him the river land in exchange for his promise to end things with you.’
‘And he accepted it?’
‘No.’ He took her hands, more serious than he had been when he’d warned her not to speak with Luke. ‘But I deeded it to him anyway, because when I asked him not to take you away from me he behaved more honourably than I did.’
She stared at her grandfather, an elation she hadn’t experienced since Vauxhall rising inside her. ‘Then he wasn’t lying or ashamed of me. He really did love me.’
‘Enough to leave you because he thought you would have a better life without him rather than with him.’
‘Not at all.’
‘I see that now.’ Tears filled his eyes and his hands trembled in hers. ‘Please don’t hate me for what I did. I’m not cruel. I simply wanted to protect you.’
‘I know.’ She threw her arms around him, unable to withhold her forgiveness. His confession had raised her hopes. It was more than she’d allowed herself to believe in the country, or during these last two weeks. Luke loved her and she loved him, and there was still a chance that they could at last be together.
He hugged her tight with relief and then held her at arm’s length. ‘All these years I’ve been bitter and angry over what I had lost. Then, when I gained you, instead of letting it go, I allowed it to guide me. You aren’t Jane and Major Preston isn’t Captain Handler, I see that now, and I want grandchildren, little ones to liven up Helmsworth Manor and that draughty London house.’ He winked at her, the caring humorous man with her once more.