And what her aunt chiefly had to say was this: "Depend upon it. He will marry as soon as he can and will forget all about you. Men never like to have their generosity thrown in their faces. And when he is married and his wife is decked in diamonds from head to toe, don't think you can cry on my shoulder! When you are an old spinster, you will weep tears of bitter regret, for who will marry you now?"
For weeks, Juliet was forced to listen as her aunt condemned her to a life of no children, no home of her own, and no place in Society. Much to Lady Elkins's surprise, her threats and sermons only served to make Juliet's views on the subject grow stronger. That she should marry as the means of conceiving a child, or for architecture, or for the right to be gossiped about by people she neither liked nor respected-all were equally unthinkable. "I should only want to bear children if I loved the man," she declared. "And I should only wish to share my home if I loved the man. And I should consider my place in Society a sham if I did not love the man. I would not deserve the honor of his name if I didn't love him."
"I confess I feel the same," said Cynthia.
Lady Elkins eyed them with contempt. "You modern girls!" she said scathingly. "You want too much. The moon and the stars are nothing to you. Not only must your husbands love you, which was considered more than sufficient in my day, but you must love your husbands too! If that is your course, you will see many inferior girls find husbands and happiness while you advance into spinsterhood. I am speaking mainly to you, Miss Cary, for it goes without saying that Juliet will never again receive an offer of marriage."
"If only that were true, Aunt," Juliet said wryly.
"What?" cried the lady, clutching her heart. `Juliet, you sly thing! Have you received an offer of marriage?"
"No, indeed," Juliet laughed. "How could it be so when your ladyship has declared it impossible! I only wish, as you claim, that it went without saying."
"Cruel, wicked, abominable girl!" replied her aunt, falling back into her chair. "To raise my hopes and then dash them so cruelly. I have a mind to leave all my money to my nephew instead of to you, ungrateful, selfish Juliet. I'm glad you'll never be a marchioness-I am sure you don't deserve it!"
In the first week of April, Lady Serena Calverstock accompanied her sister to Silvercombe. It was she, and not Lady Redfylde, who took over the duties of mistress of Silvercombe. The neighborhood buzzed with excitement, for she had brought with her a small party of fashionable London friends, including a Colonel Fitzwilliam and his wife.
Sir Benedict Wayborn called upon Colonel Fitzwilliam as courtesy demanded and reported him to be an amiable gentleman. "And do you know who his wife is?" he asked his sister upon returning to the Hall. "She is the Duke of Auckland's daughter, and a very proud, disagreeable woman besides."
"Swale's sister?" Juliet guessed that an association with Swale's sister would bring Serena that much closer to the splendid marriage she had been waiting for. "Is ... is his lordship a member of the party?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain neutral.
"Lord Redfylde was not at home when I called," her brother replied.
"Not Redfylde-Swale! Has he come with his sister?"
"No, thank heavens. We saw quite enough of Lord Swale in Herts, I think. I daresay we will not be obliged to see very much of the Silvercombe set either. The ladies are occupied in amusing Lady Redfylde, and the gentlemen mean to have some sport. I have given them leave to fish in my lake, so do not be alarmed if you see strangers there."
Juliet scarcely heard him, for her mind was so busily considering what it meant that Serena was a particular friend of Lady Maria Fitzwilliam, Swale's sister. Her ladyship was certain to promote the match between her friend and her brother. Or, was the match already made? Every day, she searched the newspapers for any information, but there was no sign of an engagement notice in the papers.
Aloud, she expressed only some mild curiosity to know Lady Maria. Lady Elkins, on the other hand, could scarcely be restrained from calling upon the Silvercombe ladies until the respectable hour of eleven was reached the next morning. In her view, it was imperative that the ladies of Wayborn Hall be the first to call upon the newcomers, even before the Parson's wife and daughters.
Cynthia was nervous. At home in Hertfordshire, there was no one more awesome for her to call upon than Squire Mickleby's wife, and that lady was as big and comfortable and well-meaning as her own mother. Juliet's description of Lady Serena scarcely comforted her nerves. "She is extremely haughty, but so rich and so beautiful, with black hair and the most exquisite violet eyes, that everyone is obliged to pretend to like her."
"Only consider what it means, my dear," Lady Elkins interrupted, "that Lady Maria has come into Surrey with Serena Calverstock."
"Pray, what does it mean?" Juliet asked with an arch smile for Cynthia.
"Lady Maria must be making a match between her brother and Lady Serena," Lady Elkins declared, startling her niece with her perspicacity. "Why else would she so distinguish an unmarried lady? The marquisate is lost to you forever, you stupid girl, and the duchy too. If Serena has not already made him very much in love with her, she is certain to do so. Oh, was there ever anything more vexing! When I think that you had him in your grasp and let him go-!"
Juliet merely laughed. "Serena and Lord Swale! Beauty and the Beast! I wish them happy, I am sure. He will acquire her beauty, and she will acquire his wealth and position. Don't tell me you don't approve, Aunt Elinor. It is precisely that mercenary kind of marriage that you always recommend so kindly to me."
Her feelings on the subject, however, were very different. She could not help but doubt the lady who had until quite recently given the world every reason to believe her in love with Cary Wayborn, and Juliet's own dislike of Serena made it impossible for her to believe that Swale truly loved her. He would not be the first man blinded by Serena's beauty, but what was she to do? It would be the very height of presumption for her to interfere in the lives of two relative strangers, however strongly she felt that their marriage was wrong.
Silvercombe was obtained after a drive through a long avenue of lime trees. Lady Elkins was perplexed when Driscoll, the butler at Silvercombe, walked out to the barouche and informed her ladyship that the Silvercombe ladies were not at home. The slight infuriated Juliet, for a slight it undoubtedly was; she had known Driscoll all her life, since he had always been Lord Skeldings's butler, and his apologetic air spoke volumes. Lady Serena and her dear friend Lady Maria were certainly at home, but they were not at home to Miss Juliet Wayborn. Her disgrace had followed her into Surrey.
Lady Elkins passed from bewilderment to indignation to dizziness, and the coachman was obliged to turn the barouche around and carry them all home again. Though wounded, Lady Elkins left cards at Silvercombe, so they waited at home every morning for three days afterward for the Silvercombe ladies to return the call, but they did not so much as send cards. Lady Elkins was mortified. Never in her life had she been treated so shabbily, and for days, she spoke of nothing else.
Cynthia was relieved. "It is well you did not agree to marry Lord Swale," she whispered to her cousin, "if his sister is so haughty. She would have crushed us with her contempt."
Juliet, who had rather the opposite thought, did not reply.
If the Silvercombe ladies had considered themselves above all company in the neighborhood, Lady Elkins might not have felt the slight so keenly. But Lady Maria and Lady Serena were not shy in receiving other visitors. They even made several well-publicized trips into the village to the delight of the local ladies.
And everywhere their ladyships went, wherever possible, they cut Miss Wayborn and made glad the ears of the neighborhood gossips with tales of her exploits in London and Hertfordshire. To Mrs. Wyndham, they expressed astonishment that Sir Benedict permitted his sad romp of a sister to move at all in Society, and Sir George Brabant was warned against letting his daughters visit the notorious Miss Whip, lest their own reputations be tarred. In church, their ladyships occupied t
he Skeldings's pew, which stood opposite the Wayborns', but they never looked in that direction. With the utmost civility, Colonel Fitzwilliam would speak to Sir Benedict after the services, and Lord Redfylde, when he was in the neighborhood on a Sunday, which was not often, would gravely nod his fair head, but the ladies refused to acknowledge the very existence of their female neighbors.
It was not long before the women in the neighborhood, overawed by the fine London ladies at Silvercombe, began to follow their lead. Juliet accepted her own disgrace with little more than prickly irritation, but the slights dealt to her aunt and her cousin were insupportable. She was indeed the notorious Miss Whip and was perhaps deserving of contempt, but Lady Elkins and Cynthia had done nothing to deserve such cruelty.
"I daresay they think you should lock me up in the attics and not even permit me to attend religious services! " she remarked to her brother as they left the village church. Cynthia and Lady Elkins had taken Sir Benedict's barouche back to Wayborn Hall, but Juliet and her brother always walked home in fine weather, cutting through the meadow to take the path along the lake. "I might think they had come to Surrey with no other object than to ruin me in my own county!" she added bitterly. It filled her with indignation to see people who had known her all her life and who liked her, now pretending not to see her, huddling their children away from her, and whispering about her behind their hands.
Benedict was plainly so aggrieved that she felt obliged to make a light remark. "At least my disgrace keeps you safe from Lady Serena," she teased him. "I had feared she might wish to be mistress of Wayborn Hall. I daresay it would amuse her to flirt with you after breaking poor Cary's heart." At least, she thought viciously, until she receives a farm offer from Swale.
"I doubt Wayborn Hall is enough to tempt Lady Serena," Benedict said dryly. "And I am not at all the sort of friend she would like. I think I am safe from her indeed, my dear."
"She liked Mr. Devize very well until she saw Castle Devize in Suffolk, not at all a modern place, I think. She dropped poor Mr. Devize like a hot potato, I can tell you, and began to pursue our brother. As for her brief interest in Cary, I can only believe that someone exaggerated the importance of the Tanglewood estate."
"Hot potato?" Benedict sighed. "Did you learn that vulgar expression from Bernard?"
"No-Cary," she replied. "But very likely, he learned it from Bernard. It answers the situation very nicely, I think, though I have never actually handled a hot potato. After my disgrace, her ladyship wanted no more to do with Cary or me. I hope-I hope he doesn't blame me. Her affection could not have been sincere in any case. And now, if the rumors are true, Lord Swale is pursuing her. Won't they make a charming couple? Her beauty and his money?"
Benedict shuddered. "She is to be pitied, I think. Lord Redfylde is unlikely to advise against the match, and without his lordship's consequence behind her, she may well capitulate."
"I think Swale is more to be pitied," said Juliet. "She has a pretty face but a cold heart. How you can take her part when she has snubbed your aunt and worked so much mischief against your only sister, I shall never understand. I knew I should have difficulty in London, but in my own county, with my own people-! Mrs. Oliphant has invited my aunt and my cousin to a card party on Wednesday, but Miss Juliet, you know, need not trouble to come!"
Benedict sighed.
"And poor Cynthia! There is nothing for it, Benedict. As sorry as I am to see her go, Cynthia can no longer stay here. Every day, she joins in my disgrace. She says it does not matter; she will not play cards at Mrs. Oliphant's, but it can't be pleasant for her. She must go home unless ... unless you wish to make her a tenant for life and mistress of Wayborn Hall?"
She gave his arm an encouraging squeeze, but Benedict agreed, with less reluctance than Juliet liked, to write to Dr. Cary at once. "Oh, Benedict! " she rebuked him. "She'll be going to London next Season, and very likely, she will marry someone else if you do not ask for her soon."
"I am thirty-six years of age," he told her irritably. "Miss Cary is a child of seventeen. It would be ridiculous, not to say repugnant, for me to form any serious design on a mere child."
"Gammon! What does age matter if you love her?"
"I have the greatest respect for Miss Cary," said her brother with maddening sangfroid. "She seems a very good little person. She is very pretty. She does not distress her family by racing across the country with strange gentlemen. I don't underrate her value, I assure you. But if I love her, Juliet, it is only in the fertile territory of your imagination." And he laughed at her expression of bitter disappointment. "I am equally certain that Miss Gary's affection for me is made of much the same stuff. Do not matchmake for me, sister. You would not like me to choose your husband for you."
"No," she admitted. "You would choose someone very dull indeed."
The following week, in response to Benedict's letter, Horatio arrived at Wayborn Hall driving a very smart new barouche pulled by a beautiful pair of bays. Lady Elkins was overjoyed to receive him and was excessively sorry that he did not mean to stay. There was nothing she would have liked better than to be driven about town by the handsome Captain in his new barouche. Juliet, of course, would sit beside Horatio on the barouche box, and Mrs. Oliphant and the Brabant girls would gnash their teeth with envy.
Alas, it was not to be. He meant to leave that very afternoon for he had pressing business in London. However, since Horatio's rapid advancement in the Royal Navy had been largely due to Lord Redfylde's influence, he naturally felt it was his first duty to call at Silvercombe. "Though for your sake, Juliet, I take no pleasure in it," he told his cousin apologetically.
Juliet tried not to show her disappointment, but she felt that again the Silvercombe ladies had triumphed over her. She had hoped that since Lord Redfylde himself was not at home, Horatio might escape the obligation, but it was impossible. Not even the reports of Lady Serena's coldness to his sister could deter him. "I do not say it is a pleasant duty, Cousin Juliet, but it is nonetheless a duty. I daresay her ladyship will receive Miss Cary with every indication of pleasure when I present her."
"Oh no!" Cynthia cried in dismay. "I could not go to Silvercombe, Horatio. Lady Serena and Lady Maria have been monstrous cruel to Juliet and to Lady Elkins too! I will not set foot in any house where my cousin isn't welcome."
Horatio insisted. "You must consider your brother, Cynthia, and you must consider yourself. Juliet will not feel you have betrayed her simply by paying a morning call to your neighbors. Your first loyalty must be to your brother. And I need hardly add, you will not do yourself any good by making enemies of their ladyships."
But it was only after Juliet urged her to go that Cynthia consented.
The duty visit was accomplished before luncheon, and Juliet received a full report from her pretty cousin during the meal that was to be Cynthia's last at Wayborn Hall. Not only had Lady Serena received Miss Cary with every appearance of delight, but Lady Maria Fitzwilliam had also been everything kind. "She asked me to take a turn in the garden with her, and we walked arm in arm while Horatio waited on Lady Serena. Her ladyship is not at all haughty, Juliet. She said I was a dear, sweet girl and that if I should go to London, I should be a great success and she would help me."
"And how did you like Lady Serena?"Juliet asked slowly.
"If anything, she was even more kind to me than Lady Maria. She privately told me she hoped to be married soon and to have the nicest sister in the whole world. She must really mean to marry Lord Swale and be Lady Maria's sister! Oh, Juliet!" she fretted. "Do you think I ought to have warned her ladyship about Lord Swale? I am convinced no one could be happy married to him."
"I don't think happiness will be Serena's chief reason for marrying Swale,"Juliet said dryly. "And so," she went on, "you are persuaded that all good society will be opened to you if you will only deny your scandalous cousin Miss Wayborn."
"Oh no," Cynthia cried in dismay, but there was a guilty shyness in her eyes.
"I daresay Lady Maria has promised to obtain vouchers to Almack's for you when you go to London next year, and Lady Serena to take you for drives in her pony phaeton."
Cynthia's lower lip began to tremble so violently that Juliet relented and hugged the girl. "Never mind! I am not in the least angry. The truth is they will be of greater assistance to you in Society than ever I could be. And as I shall not be in London next year, you need never have to choose between them and me."
"Horatio is convinced your disgrace will be forgotten by next year," said Cynthia, her smile charged with meaning. "I think you will be in London next year if my brother has anything to say about it, my dear Juliet And next year, I hope, you will be more to me than a cousin, and much closer too!"
Upon taking the hint, Juliet was seized with blind panic and a sneaking guilt. She could not deny that she had given Horatio a great deal of encouragement since his return to England. In those first weeks, she had liked him very well indeed and had even cherished a hope of marrying him one day. When had her feelings begun to change? It was not difficult for her to know exactly-it was the moment he had rebuked her for setting Swale's carrots on fire. A quiet word at a later time would not have been amiss, she felt, but he had publicly taken the enemy's part over hers. Even after the enemy had ceased to be an enemy, she had nursed a secret resentment against her handsome cousin, and in the week following the injury to her leg, when Horatio had been at his most attentive, she had formed the opinion that they would not suit after all. Her cousin had a tendency to correct her that she had not noticed before and that reminded her unpleasantly of Benedict. She certainly did not require a husband who criticized her as freely and severely as her own elder brother!
But had she given him as much discouragement since the change in her feelings as she had given him encouragement before? She had tried by spurning his efforts to induce her to read this book over that to show him that he was no more her idol, but she feared he had merely thought her irritable because of her injury. A proposal now would force her to be more plain and lay her open to a rebuke that, she felt, she must justly deserve for awakening his hopes.
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