Make Me a Marchioness

by Blackwood, Gemma

  "I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Mallory," said Annabelle, lip trembling. Julia could not find it in her heart to be angry any longer.

  "The important thing is that you're safe and sound, and you won't ever do it again. Now, let's go back to the house and get you a nice cup of hot chocolate. All of the servants are out looking for you, and we don't want them to be worried for a moment longer than they need to be, do we?"

  "Wait!" exclaimed Annabelle. She was holding something in her little hand which she waved at Julia in excitement. "I have a present for you."

  Julia bent down to look at it. It was a tiny snowdrop that Annabelle had pulled from the ground. Annabelle reached up and tucked it behind Julia's ear.

  "There," she said, satisfied. "You look so pretty, Miss Mallory."

  "That's very thoughtful of you, Lady Annabelle," said Julia, taking her hand. "But in future, you must not pick wildflowers. They are there for everyone to enjoy."

  "Not here, they're not," remarked Felicity. "I'd wager no one has found this place but me and Kit in years."

  Annabelle shook a tiny finger in Felicity's direction. "You must listen to Miss Mallory and not argue with her!" she chided her sternly. Felicity threw back her head and laughed. Julia was glad to see her have that moment of mirth. Felicity's situation was truly dire, and there might be little cause for laughter in the months to come.

  Julia and Felicity each took one of Annabelle's hands in theirs, and together, they made their way back through the forest to the house. On the way, they encountered a footman busily searching through the bushes. Julia send him on ahead to let Charles know that Annabelle had been found.

  So it was that they were barely making their approach across the well-manicured lawn, when Charles himself came running towards them. He swept Annabelle up into his arms and kissed her soundly.

  "Where have you been, my wild little girl? I have been so worried about you!"

  "We found her in the forest," said Julia. "No harm has come to her at all."

  Charles turned towards her, such joy in his face that she was afraid he was going to kiss her right there and then, in front of everyone.

  His eyes fixed on the snowdrop nestling behind her left ear. All the joy drained from him in an instant.

  "I know where you have been," he said hoarsely. His eyes were full of horror. Julia did not understand what had happened to produce such a material change in his mood, and he gave her no chance to discover it. Charles turned away from her and practically ran back into the house, Annabelle protesting in his arms. When he reached the doorway, he thrust the girl towards the waiting Miss Kelsey, and disappeared inside.

  "Well," said Felicity. "I like that! Not as much as a thank you. I wonder what took him so suddenly ill?"

  Julia couldn't imagine, and the last thing she wanted was for Felicity to see how hurt she was by Charles's reaction. "It has been a stressful day for all of us," she said briskly. "If you don't mind, Felicity, I am going to go and lie down. This has been quite enough excitement for me." She touched her hand to Felicity's shoulder. "That is, if you do not wish to talk any more about what you told me in the kitchens?"

  "Talking won't fix anything," said Felicity, with false brightness. "At least, not talking with you – begging your pardon, Julia. There's only one person I want to speak to at the moment and..." She let out a heavy sigh. "It doesn't look as though he wants to speak to me."

  "When did you write to him?" asked Julia. "There may be some hope yet."

  "It has only been a day. I won't give up hope just yet. For now, back to my bread. If you're ever overcome by anger, Julia, I highly recommend bread-making. It does wonders for a troubled soul."

  Julia suspected her own soul would benefit from violently kneading a lump of dough, but, since she could not confess the reason for her worry to Felicity, she settled for going upstairs and trying to sleep off the traumas of her long journey and the fright which Annabelle had given her.

  Before she lay down, she placed the snowdrop carefully inside a little glass of water, so that it might stay fresh and beautiful. Something about its perfect white petals filled her soul with a sense of calm.

  Don't worry, the snowdrop seemed to whisper. All will soon be well.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Charles was on his knees in the library, his eyes fixed on the portrait which hung above the fireplace. His attitude was almost one of prayer, but the thoughts flying through his mind were far from prayerful. Sarah's kind blue eyes gazed down upon him, beautiful but bland, entirely unaware of the pain that lanced through him every time he looked into them.

  She sat on the grass, frozen in time, ageless and untouched by fear or pain. She was surrounded by flowers. Flowers which did not belong together. He remembered the painter's confusion when they had given him their instructions. Wild summer roses, autumn honeysuckle, red berried holly, and spring snowdrops. Chiltern Forest was not renowned for its flowers, but there was one place where the sun always seemed to shine and the flowers grew. A place of late season honeysuckle, fragrance and sweet. A place where the holly always burst with bright red berries. The first place in the forest where the snowdrops grew, every year in February.

  The place he had asked Sarah to be his wife.

  Seeing that snowdrop in Julia's hair had given him the fright of his life. There was only one place it could have come from; a place he had not been since Annabelle was born. A dagger of guilt twisted in his heart. How had she found it? How could he have allowed Julia to trespass on that place that was sacred to Sarah's memory?

  "Oh, Sarah, forgive me," he whispered. "I should have walled the place off and thrown away the key. I should never have allowed anyone to go there again."

  Sarah's blue eyes did not change. She was as peaceful as ever. Charles envied her painted tranquillity. How long had he spent yearning for some tranquillity of his own, yet never coming close to it?

  But you have found peace, a treacherous voice whispered at the back of his mind. Peace, and even more. You have found Julia.

  He glanced up, afraid, and found the painting still smiling at him benevolently. He had marvelled at that portrait when it was first made. It represented Sarah so accurately. Her beauty, her placidity, her kindness.

  She was such a generous soul. And he had never given her the love she deserved. Now that he truly understood what love was, the passion that flared in his heart like a forest fire, he knew that Sarah had needed so much more than he was ever able to give her.

  Does that mean you will deny Julia the same opportunity? inquired that inner voice.

  Charles got to his feet. Light was beginning to dawn on his torment, as faint and as lovely as the first tendrils of sunrise on the horizon.

  Sarah had been a good friend and a good wife, nothing more. It was too late now to change that. Julia – Julia waited for him, yearned for him, adored him with the same fierceness he felt for her.

  And Sarah was gone; really, truly gone. He hoped that, wherever she was, she was happy. He would always pray for her happiness, her peace.

  But he owed her nothing more than that. He was finished being faithful to a ghost.

  At first, he had taken the snowdrop in Julia's hair as a sign from Sarah. Perhaps he had been right. But it was not a sign of her condemnation. She had loved the snowdrops. Her daughter had given one to Julia.

  It was time to make Julia the new centre of his life. To make her Annabelle's mother. To make her his Marchioness.

  Charles rubbed a handkerchief over his face, removing all traces of the tears he had not even known were falling. He tucked it back into his pocket and set off upstairs with a firm resolve.

  Julia answered the moment he knocked on her bedroom door. Her cheeks were pale; he could not imagine what she had been thinking when he had stormed off earlier.

  Without another word, he sank down onto one knee.

  "Julia," he said, his voice calm and clear, "I have asked you this question before. This time, I will accept only one
answer. I know that you love me. Until today, I was not able to fully give you my heart, and I think you were not fully able to give me yours. That has changed now. I am prepared to dedicate my life to you, no matter what the consequences may be. I understand why you could not accept me before, and I am telling you plainly that the circumstances of your birth and the behaviour of your brother mean absolutely nothing in the face of my love for you. You are afraid of what society will make of an illegitimate girl from Seven Dials as a Marchioness – well, let me tell you: you will be universally adored. Your past and your family need never be publically known. I will keep your secret forever, my Julia, and whatever the consequences may be, we can weather them together. Here, in Chiltern, I want to build for you the life we have both dreamed of." He took her hand in his. "Will you be my wife?"

  "You know who I truly am now," stammered Julia, astonished. "Do you really mean it? You will really have me as your Marchioness?"

  "I will not settle for less," said Charles, rising to his feet. He kissed her before even waiting for her response. She kissed him back forcefully, their lips locked in a battle they were both winning. When she finally broke away, Julia managed only one word.

  "Yes."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Julia soon found that she had more to do than stand around kissing her new fiancé in the hallway. After nearly being interrupted by Mr Larkin, who was making a round of the house to check that everybody was settled after Annabelle's disappearance, they retreated to Charles's study to hash out the finer details of how to break the news to Annabelle – not to mention what to tell the servants.

  "Miss Kelsey will be so surprised!" Julia laughed. "All this time, she's been trying to set me up with your valet."

  "Peter Kildare?" asked Charles, amused. "I don't need to call him out, do I? Pistols at dawn?"

  "Nothing of the sort," Julia assured him. Charles sat down in his large, comfortable high-backed chair, and Julia hopped onto his lap and put her arms around his neck. "I have only had eyes for you from the moment I arrived."

  "I have you beaten there," smiled Charles. "I have been entranced by you since the moment we met."

  "Entranced?" Julia repeated. "That's a good word for it. Entranced. Promise me I will always entrance you!"

  "I promise. Now, let me ring for Larkin," said Charles, leaning over to the bell. "I'll have him prepare champagne for the household."

  "That's very generous."

  "I think everyone should share in a little of our joy today, don't you?"

  An uncomfortable thought occurred to Julia. "Charles, what am I to do about Mrs Potter, Miss Kelsey, and Felicity, the cook? They have been good friends to me in all my time here. I do not know quite how I shall behave towards them when I am lady of the house."

  "Why, you must behave however you wish. I do not keep a very formal household. There is no reason why Mrs Potter cannot be your friend as well as your housekeeper, and Miss Kelsey, and Miss Graham, too. The only thing that will change is that you must begin to make friends with women of your new station. I'm sure the Duchess of Westbourne will be able to help you with that. All in all, I cannot see your life changing very much."

  "Can you not?" asked Julia, with a wicked smile. "I hope there will be some changes, at least. There are a number of new experiences I intend to try."

  "And what might they be?"

  Julia leaned in so that her breath tickled his ear as she softly murmured, "I want to dance at Almack's."

  She heard the smile in his voice. His hands began to trace the curve of her waist, and he drew her closer. "Is that all you truly desire?"

  "Well, there is something more..." Julia caught his earlobe between her lips and gently bit. Charles gasped, stirring beneath her. "I want to buy a new gown from a Parisian dressmaker."

  "I will give you anything," Charles promised breathlessly. Julia stroked her fingers up the back of his neck.

  "In that case," she breathed, "I must ask you for just one more thing..."

  The door opened behind her. Julia sprang from Charles's lap and flung herself to the other side of the room. Charles rose, adjusting his clothing awkwardly.

  "Ah, Larkin!" He cried, failing to disguise the note of annoyance in his voice. "I must say, that was very prompt of you."

  "Prompt, my lord?" asked Larkin.

  "Exceedingly. I only rang the bell moment ago."

  "I'm afraid I did not hear it, my lord. I was just coming in to announce Lord Christopher here to see you."

  Charles glanced at Julia. "Do make my apologies, Larkin. I'm afraid I'm not at home."

  Julia could not let the chance of speaking to Lord Kit on Felicity's behalf slip away. "No, let him in," she said. Mr Larkin gave her a look of pure outrage.

  "Excuse me, Miss Mallory, but his lordship has said he is not at home!"

  "No, no," said Charles. "It's quite alright, Larkin. Send him through."

  Larkin bowed and left, pausing only to cast a glance of admonition in Julia's direction. They would have to give him the news soon, Julia realised. Mr Larkin would be mortified if he gave Julia a telling off, only to discover that she was now the Marquess's betrothed.

  When he arrived, Lord Kit's appearance was shocking. Far from his usual dapper self, his hair was a dishevelled mass, his cravat hanging undone about his neck, and his shirt untucked.

  "Gracious!" Charles exclaimed. "What on earth has happened to you?"

  Kit sank into a chair without waiting for an invitation. "The very worst has happened," he moaned. "Send your governess away, Charles, so that I can talk to you frankly."

  "Whatever you wish to say to me, you can say in front of Julia," said Charles. Kit raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. He was clearly too full of his own misery to decipher the mystery that lay before him.

  "I'm afraid I come to you not as a friend but as a beggar," he said. He ran a hand through his hair, a wildness in his eyes. "My father has thrown me out. I am no longer welcome in my family home. He has disinherited me. I am finished."

  "What on earth has gotten into him?" demanded Charles. "Would you like me to speak to him? Whatever has happened, surely by morning he will see sense?"

  Kit shook his head mournfully. "The one who needed to see sense was myself, and, in any case, it is now several months too late. I have done something dreadful, Charles. This is the end of me."

  "Does this concern Felicity?" Julia guessed.

  Kit stared at her in astonishment. "How did you know that?"

  "Felicity?" Charles repeated. "Do you mean Miss Graham? My cook? What on earth has been going on?"

  "I'm afraid I have been... a little foolish," Kit admitted. He was expending some effort to prevent his mouth from twisting into a self-mocking smile.

  "Foolish? Do you imagine that's how Felicity would describe it?" asked Julia sternly. "You are not the only one facing ruin."

  "Do you think I don't know that?" Kit demanded.

  "Guard your tongue, Kit!" snapped Charles. "What on earth do you mean by speaking to Julia in that tone? You are under my roof, and you dare to speak to my friend this way? You will give her the respect she deserves!"

  Kit groaned and lowered his head into his hands. "Force of habit, I'm afraid, Charles. I'm afraid I have been at pains to distance myself from the servants of late. I didn't want to come across as too familiar. I thought that if I did, people might begin to suspect that Felicity and I... Well. A foolish thought, no doubt."

  "Foolish indeed," Charles growled. Julia felt heat glow deep in her belly as Charles moved to stand beside her, taking her hand in his. "It is not me you need to apologise to, Kit. I must tell you that I was shocked to hear the way you have been speaking to Julia in my absence. It reflects poorly on you, very poorly. She is a fine woman who does not deserve to bear the brunt of your idiocy!"

  "You are quite right," sighed Kit. He turned to Julia, looking so thoroughly wretched that she forgave him at once, even before he apologised. "Miss Mallory, I am most sincerely sorry
for the way I have behaved towards you. I am a thoughtless, flighty sort of man, and in my desperation to avoid suspicion falling on Felicity I decided it was best to behave like an absolute beast to everyone I thought beneath me."

  "Julia is not beneath you," Charles snapped.

  "No, you are quite right. I, of all people, have no business giving myself fine airs. Miss Mallory, I have no right to expect your forgiveness, but I beg you for it all the same."

  "You are quite forgiven," said Julia. "You are the Marquess's friend, and so I hope we may become friends, too, in time." It might take quite a lot of time. But she was determined to do it, for Charles's sake.

  "Now, I suppose I had better send for Miss Graham," said Charles. He looked from Kit to Julia, as though on the verge of believing something he very much did not wish to believe. "It seems she is as closely involved in your disgrace as anyone, Kit."

  "Please," said Kit. "Though I have no good news to give her. Charles, I know you must think me a blind fool, but I really am thoroughly ashamed of myself. I never meant any harm to come to Felicity. You can't imagine how deeply I care for her."

  "I think you underestimate my imagination," said Charles, with a glance at Julia.

  Felicity was summoned in due course. Before long, she was standing in the middle of the room, twisting her hands in front of her in despair. "Yes, it's true, my lord. I have allowed Lord Kit to take liberties with my person. I know it was wrong, but... Well, now that the truth is out, there is no use in hiding it. I was in love. It made me a reckless fool. And now, I will have to suffer the consequences."

  Kit sprang to his feet. "You will not suffer them alone, my darling!"

  "Enough of that," snapped Charles. "I suppose the two of you imagine it will be very romantic, suffering together, but there is a child to think of. How do you intend to provide for your baby, Kit? How do you intend to support your wife?"

  Felicity's eyes widened in horror. "My Lord, do you mean that I have lost my position?"