by Sally James
Molly counted on her fingers. ‘Let me see, it were October Janie left to be wed, so it’s five months.’
‘Then you must have given satisfaction.’
‘Well, mebbe so, but as she said this morning, with Sir Carey back, and with a wife, there’ll be more to do, and she’ll be watching me. She said you’d most like be entertaining. Sir Carey didn’t do much.’
‘Does Mrs Carter hire all the servants?’
‘The maids, yes. Mr Foster hires the men.’
‘I see. Well, I’ve a mind to choose my own personal maid, and if you want to, you can have the position.’
‘Ooh, my lady! Thank you! I didn’t expect to have such a job for years,’ she confided.
Julia smiled. ‘I’m sure we’ll get on. I’d prefer to have someone used to the household than a newcomer.’
* * * *
The cupboard where the vases were stored was also crammed with ornaments, vases and figurines, some of which, to Julia’s inexpert eye, looked valuable.
‘Why are they here?’ she asked Foster.
‘When his lordship’s father died, he ordered everything to be put away. As he was not expecting to be here a great deal, and the house would be shut up for many months, I think he wanted to give the caretaker and his wife less work. I also suspect he doubted the woman’s ability to dust them without breakage.’
‘It’s a pity to shut them away. When I’ve done the flowers I’ll come back and find a few to brighten up the rooms.’
She was humming softly to herself an hour later as she positioned two Meissen figures on the drawing room mantelpiece. When she turned to leave the room she saw Sir Carey in the doorway, smiling.
‘I hope you don’t mind?’
‘The house somehow looks more cheerful already, my dear. Of course I don’t mind. This is part of our bargain.’
She explained about Molly. ‘I hope I did right. Mrs Carter seems to think I should have consulted her before interfering with her arrangements. I will do so in future.’
He frowned. ‘Was she impertinent? I won’t tolerate that.’
‘No, just aggrieved.’
‘You have every right to hire whomever you wish as your maid, and to dismiss anyone if you feel it necessary.’
Julia smiled in relief. ‘Thank you. I do not wish to be at odds with your housekeeper, but I wasn’t sure of my authority.’
‘Absolute, as far as the house is concerned. If you feel it needs refurbishing, you have only to say so.’
‘I’d like to banish those gentlemen in the hall to some dark corner,’ she confessed. ‘They look down on me so disdainfully, or perhaps it’s the gloom that makes me think so.’
He laughed. ‘The upper landing then. Tell Foster to get it done. Did you see Lady Cunningham? How is she?’
‘Not well, I’m afraid. She’s fretting about Frederick, but there are signs she is beginning to condemn rather than forgive him. She’s heard no word from him.’
‘Is she planning to go to Greystones?’
‘No. In fact, she is confined to her bed.’
‘That’s serious.’
‘Just a wise precaution. She is breeding. It was apparently a complete reconciliation at Christmas. She has lost several babies before, and apart from wanting a son she loves children. Each loss has been a severe disappointment to her.’
‘Yes, of course. Now, do you know the best modistes? The clothes that pretty Bavarian maid bought for you were all very well for the journey, but you need to buy plenty for the coming Season.’
Julia shrank inwardly. She knew how her marriage would seem to the ton. The Webbers, when they arrived, would be full of malicious gossip, and she had hoped for a respite, until other matters claimed their attention.
‘I thought we were going to Courtlands?’
‘We will, in a few days. But we are not going to give the gossips excuses to tear us to pieces, saying we are in hiding. Meanwhile, go and buy twice what you think you will need - ‘
‘Twice?’ Julia asked, laughing, then she gasped as she took the large roll of bills Sir Carey thrust into her hands.
‘Or three times. Is this sufficient blunt? You’ve gone without for too long, and I intend to spoil you. Tomorrow or the next day we will drive in the Park, and see who is in Town yet.’
* * * *
Julia could not bring herself to obey Sir Carey fully, and decided she would for the time being buy the minimum. She knew she had to look modish if she were to be a credit to him, and not invite sneers from people who despised her as a nobody and would consider him a credulous fool for marrying her. So she had to buy the best.
She needed help, for she did not know which modistes to go to, or what clothes she might reasonably be expected to need. The only person who might be of assistance was Elizabeth Pryce, so she hastily penned a note explaining her dilemma, and asking whether she could recommend places where she might go.
The reply came accompanied by Elizabeth Pryce herself. She waited in her barouche while Julia put on her pelisse, and they drove to Bond Street, where Elizabeth took charge.
Two hours later, the barouche laden with parcels, they returned to Upper Brook Street and handed Julia’s purchases over to Molly while they retreated to the drawing room and some reviving tea.
‘I didn’t know there were so many essentials,’ Julia said. ‘I thought a few gowns, and perhaps a shawl, along with what Sir Carey bought me in Bavaria, would be enough.’
‘What we bought today will perhaps take you through a week or so of the full Season.’
‘A week? Then I’d better find reasons for staying at Courtlands!’
‘No, you must not,’ Elizabeth said urgently. ‘You must be seen, and behave as though there is nothing unusual or shameful in your situation. Your marriage was so unexpected, and from what you tell me Mrs Webber is likely to put it about that you trapped Sir Carey into it.’
‘What? Surely not!’
‘It’s not unknown. Sir Carey will wish in any event to be in London so that he can hear what Napoleon is doing. If he leaves you down at Courtlands it will cause more gossip. So you must be here with him, and demonstrating it was a love match.’
Julia stared at her, aghast. How could she do that, pretend in front of the eager gaze of the ton, to something that was not true?
Elizabeth patted her arm. ‘Don’t look so frightened, child. It was obvious in Vienna that he was very taken with you, and many of the people who were there will have noticed it. Just behave naturally.’
‘They’ll think he married me on the rebound after Angelica jilted him,’ Julia said.
‘They’ll think he had a fortunate escape from a chit who had her head turned last Season by all the admiration she was accorded. She must be ashamed, for I’m told she hasn’t set foot in London since before Christmas. Now I must go back to your sister.’
* * * *
Julia was toying with a roll at breakfast when Sir Carey, who had been out to visit some friends in the Horse Guards, came in carrying a copy of The Times. He pointed to the announcement of the marriage, privately in Bavaria, of Sir Carey Evelegh, Bt, and Miss Julia Marsh, daughter of the late Reverend and Mrs Marsh of Hampshire.
‘So now we await the congratulations of our friends,’ he said, smiling in a way that made her heart perform painful somersaults. ‘Let us drive in the Park this afternoon, and some of them can meet us there. What had you planned to do today?’
‘I thought I’d ask Mrs Carter to show me the house and explain to me how she has run it. I don’t want to offend her again.’
‘I think she is at least reconciled. She said to me how much brighter a few flowers made the house, just like it used to be in my mother’s time. Then she apologized for not having thought of it herself, to welcome us home. Julia, the flowers in here seem to make the curtains look drab. Is it my imagination?’
Julia laughed. ‘Not at all. They are so old, and Mrs Carter told me she dared not have them taken down to brush them in c
ase they fell to pieces.’
‘Then we must have new ones. And while we are about it, I suppose we should change the wallpaper too, or new curtains will make that look drab! Will you select whatever is needed, please, and it can be done while we are at Courtlands. I propose going there three days from now. Will that give you sufficient time?’
Julia blinked. ‘You trust my taste?’ she asked.
‘Of course. My dear, I know that your sister bought you some clothes in Vienna, but I am sure you had the choosing of them, and they were in great good taste. As is that delightful gown you are wearing now. I take it you bought it yesterday?’
‘Yes, and it was far more expensive than I thought reasonable, as there I so little material in it,’ Julia said, glancing at the olive green muslin morning dress Elizabeth had persuaded her she had to have, it suited her so well.
He grinned. ‘It’s irrelevant what it cost, if it suits you. I must get my mother’s jewellery out of the bank for you to wear. But that reminds me, you have no betrothal ring, and only a cheap wedding band that pretty little maid from the inn bought for me. Come, let us go and see what Rundell and Bridge have.’
An hour later Julia possessed not only a glittering gold wedding ring, but two more, one a huge solitaire diamond, the other a band set with emeralds, which had a matching necklace and bracelets.
‘I feel like the beggar maid with King Cophetua,’ she said as they drove back home from Ludgate Hill.
He laughed. ‘Trifles, and only what is due to my wife. When we have more time, and I know what colours you prefer for evening gowns, we will buy more.’
He helped her down from the phaeton and the groom led the horses round to the stables. Foster had the door open as they trod up the steps.
‘Sir Carey, you have a visitor. Mr Daniel Fitzhugh.’
* * * *
Sir Carey glanced ruefully at Julia. ‘I didn’t expect him to call quite so soon. He lives in Lincolnshire and isn’t often in town, but he must have read the notice in The Times. I fear he may be a touch disappointed. When you’ve put off your hat come down to the drawing room to meet Daniel.’
When Julia came down a few minutes later she could hear an angry voice before she opened the drawing room door. She took a deep breath and went in.
The two men were standing one either side of the fireplace. Her first impression was that they were remarkably alike. Then she noticed small differences. Daniel, she presumed it was he, was a couple of inches shorter than Sir Carey and not so broad in the shoulder. His hair was thinner, and did not have the slight wave which made her want to run her fingers through it. His eyes were a paler blue, and set closer together. His nose was slightly crooked, his mouth thinner, and his ears stuck out. On his own, he might have been accounted tolerably handsome, but beside Sir Carey no one would call him that. His clothes were modish, but his cravat was intricately tied and his shirt points too high for comfort. He held a jewelled snuff box in his left hand, and as he looked at Julia he negligently flicked it open, and took a pinch, inhaling it as he stared insolently at her. So this was the man who was so obsessed with cats. She moved forward, her hand outstretched, determined to show him the civility he seemed disinclined to offer her.
‘You must be my husband’s cousin. I am so pleased to meet you, Mr Fitzhugh.’
It was with obvious reluctance that he took her hand, and he dropped it at once. ‘So you’re the chit he married,’ he commented, giving her a disapproving look.
‘Oh, thank you sir! I’ve never been called a chit before, and it makes me feel younger than my age.’
Julia suppressed a smile. She sounded like a simpering ninny, and didn’t dare look at Sir Carey for fear of bursting into laughter.
Daniel frowned. ‘I thought he was betrothed to that Philpot gal.’
‘Angelica decided she had made a mistake,’ Sir Carey said, ‘which was fortunate for me since it allowed me to offer for Julia. Now you have seen her, I am sure you will congratulate me on my good fortune,’ he added sternly.
Julia dropped her gaze so that Daniel would not see the laughter in her eyes, for it was perfectly clear he had no wish to offer any congratulations, but remnants of politeness prevented him from saying so.
‘When will you be going to Courtlands?’ he asked instead. ‘No doubt you’ll be wishing to introduce your wife to your sisters. I gather they have not yet met her?’
‘No. Julia and I met in Vienna. It was a whirlwind romance,’ Sir Carey replied, and Julia now knew him well enough to detect amusement in his calm voice.
She glanced at him gratefully, for maintaining the pretence, while wishing it were true.
‘I suppose she knew about your birthday drawing near?’ Daniel asked.
Julia decided it was time she joined in this odd conversation again. ‘Indeed I do, Mr Fitzhugh,’ she said brightly. ‘I am hoping to organize some sort of celebration in July to mark it. Thirty is such a milestone, is it not?’
She thought she heard a slight choking sound from Sir Carey, but carefully avoided looking at him. Mr Fitzhugh frowned, snorted, and swung on his heel.
‘I must take my leave, I’m already late for an appointment because you were out. But I take it ill in you not to inform your family of your intentions, instead of getting wed in that havey-cavey manner.’
He stalked out of the room, and Julia looked at Sir Carey, her eyes brimming with merriment.
‘Oh dear, the cats will not get their usual attention tonight,’ she said, and giggled. ‘Is he always like that?’
‘Most of the time. He cannot endure to be contradicted or worsted.’
‘Then I’m not at all surprised his wife left him.’
* * * *
On the following morning Sir Carey was waiting in a room at the Foreign Office to see Lord Castlereagh, who had sent for him. He was smiling reminiscently at how baffled Daniel had looked to be confronted by Julia. Had he expected another Angelica?
It was odd, but he could scarcely recall what Angelica looked like. He retained a hazy impression of blonde curls and limpid blue eyes, but that was all.
Then his thoughts swung to the previous afternoon when he had driven Julia round the Park. She had looked charming in a pale blue pelisse, with a neat matching hat. She had also looked calm, though when he handed her into the phaeton he’d felt her hands trembling in his.
The news of his marriage had spread rapidly, and they were hailed continuously by friends and acquaintances who wanted to meet the bride and congratulate him. Many expressed surprise at the haste, many complimented Julia, but none mentioned Angelica. It was as though she had never existed, and Sir Carey was beginning to look on that episode in his life as some sort of distant dream.
He’d seen admiration in the men’s eyes, and known that the women were carefully assessing Julia’s clothes, and speculating on why she had managed to snare him when so many of them, in the past, had not been able to.
The more serious wanted to ask questions about the Congress, and debate the prospects of a resumption of hostilities if Napoleon could once more gather together an army.
‘Is Wellington going to take charge?’ one elderly man asked. ‘Why is he lingering in Vienna? Do you know, the two of them have never met in battle. That will be a clash of Titans, if it ever takes place.’
‘I have heard no news from Vienna since Boney escaped from Elba,’ Sir Carey told them. ‘I think it might be premature to break off all the negotiations too soon, until we see what success he has in rousing the French once more. They have taken so long to come to some agreement, and we don’t want to have to start all over again.’
‘No, by gad! It’s cost the Austrians a pretty penny, entertaining all those kings and hangers-on.’
Lord Castlereagh might have some news, but Sir Carey hoped he would not want to send him on some mission. He was eager to go home to Courtlands, not only to see the sisters he’d been away from for over six months, but to show his home to Julia. In some surprise, he real
ized that her opinion mattered to him. He’d liked her in Vienna, but appreciated her value during the past few weeks.
She had not complained once at the rigours of the journey. Comfortable as his travelling coach was, it was not ideal for four people trying to sleep as it was bounced over the icy ruts and the poor roads, made worse after the winter.
Already his London house seemed more like the home he remembered when his parents were alive. Could she work the same magic at Courtlands?
Chapter Eleven
Fanny wished Julia was not leaving London. Courtlands was not a great distance, a day’s journey, but in Vienna she had come to depend on her sister a great deal, and having been so recently reunited with her it seemed unfortunate she was going away again.
She was grateful to Elizabeth, of course she was, but she didn’t feel able to talk about Frederick with quite the same freedom. After all, she and Mr Pryce scarcely knew him.
In the past she had accepted his dalliances with other women with resignation. So far as she could judge, most men had their flirts. Some men deserted their wives, but she was mortified at being of their number. To begin with she had wanted only that he would return to her, but as time went on and she heard nothing from him, she became worried. Where was he? Had they had an accident? Was he even dead? Surely, in such a case someone would have notified her.
She sent increasingly urgent messages to her butler at Greystones, asking if they had received any news, but the replies were always the same. Nothing had been heard. The children, at first, had asked almost every day when their father was coming home. Now, absorbed in the excitement of the journey and their new life with friends, they seemed to have forgotten about him. Perhaps, if he were dead, that was fortunate. They would not feel the loss so greatly.
How did she feel herself? She admitted privately that she was becoming angry rather than worried. If he did return, she thought with a sigh, she would probably accept him back. There was little else she could do, and despite it all she still loved him. She had nowhere to go. Her parents were dead, and they had few close relatives, no one closer than a second cousin, and he was an elderly bachelor who lived somewhere in the wilds of Devonshire and never came to London. She had only met him once, when she was about seven years old.