Brader returned late on a Saturday after the whole household had turned in for the night. When Julia first heard his voice in the hallway, wishing Hardwell a good night, she swore that he’d been born of her dreams until she realized she was awake.
Swiftly, she rose from her bed and, with her long braid swinging down her back, tiptoed over to the door and cracked it open. Several seconds passed before he came into her view.
The light from the candle in his hand flickered eerily, emphasizing his dark, rugged looks. With his hair slicked back from his ride in the wet weather, his presence seemed somewhat sinister. A chill crept up her spine as her overactive imagination reflected he would have made a dashing and intimidating highwayman.
In the center of the hall between their two doorways, he paused and studied her door. Julia pulled back, sure he saw her spying. If he did, he gave no indication. For a second, she thought he considered knocking on her door, but he shook his head instead and entered his own room.
Julia didn’t know if she felt relief or disappointment.
The Sabbath dawned wet and cold. Betty woke her with the message that Mrs. Elliott and Mrs. Brown were in an uproar. The Master’s mother insisted on attending the parish church and nothing the two women said or did could dissuade her.
Quickly, Julia donned her sensible flannel wrapper and ran to Nan’s room. She had no idea if her help would be appreciated, but she was certain such a trip could not be good for Nan’s health in the November drizzle.
She gasped when she discovered the situation. Nan, looking very old and gray, slumped against a bedpost crying.
Julia raced over to her immediately. “Nan, please, you must lie down and relax.”
Nan looked toward the sound of Julia’s voice and held out a thin, shaking hand. “Julia, you’ll take me to Sunday service, won’t you?” Her soft voice sounded reedy, like a child begging one last special favor. “I have to go. I have to go for Thomas.”
Over Nan’s head, Julia caught Mrs. Elliott’s worried look. She nodded her understanding and wrapped her arms around Nan, saying, “I’ll take you, but not today. The weather is too severe for an outing today.”
Nan turned out to be stronger than Julia suspected, for she pulled away. “No, I must go today.”
Julia looked to Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Elliott for direction. Both women shrugged their shoulders helplessly, concern etched on their faces.
Determined to lead her back to bed, Julia said with gentle authority, “Nan, we’re afraid that you will catch a cold or worse. Wait until the weather improves.”
“No, I must go today. I need a blessing today for Thomas. He needs me to go today.”
Nan’s words, as if her deceased husband waited for her at the foot of the staircase, put a shiver up Julia’s back. She handled her mother-in-law’s strange mood with a straightforward response. “Nan, you could catch pneumonia or the influ—”
A deep voice from the doorway interrupted her. “I’ll take her to church.”
Julia looked up at her husband, whose broad shoulders filled the doorframe. He was dressed casually. Their eyes met. Julia said, “It’s not wise—”
“Brader, you’d do that for me?” Nan’s unseeing eyes were alight with happiness, her voice eager. Rising by using the bedpost for support, she held a small hand out to him.
He shrugged. “You don’t think the church doors will slam in my face, do you?”
Nan’s voice was fervent in denial. “Never say that. You have nothing of which to be ashamed. Never let me hear you speak such thoughts.”
Brader’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
“Oh, Brader.” The tears rolled down Nan’s cheeks and her body sagged, but before it could hit the ground, Brader had crossed the room and scooped her up in his arms. His mother’s frail arms went up around his neck. “I loved Thomas and I love you. Never say those words again. You have nothing of which to be ashamed.”
Brader leaned his cheek against his mother’s head, cooing soft words of reassurance. Watching him, Julia felt she was meeting the man for the first time. Just when she thought she had some understanding of Brader Wolf, he slipped into a new role.
Nan whispered, “Take me to church today, Brader, please. You and Julia take me to church.”
Brader looked over toward Julia, who nodded her reluctant assent although the words of agreement had already left his lips. He started to lay Nan on the bed but she said, “I’m fine. Laurie, get me ready, please.”
While Mrs. Elliott moved forward to help Nan dress, Mrs. Brown attempted to corner Brader to express her concern over this expedition. He stopped her with a shake of his head and a meaningful look at his mother.
In the hallway, Julia placed a hand on Brader’s arm. “Do you really think this is wise?” She pulled her hand back when he turned to face her, suddenly aware of her state of undress and her sleep-tousled braid tumbling over one shoulder.
Brader pursed his lips, studying her eyes a moment before answering. “We have no choice. My mother was a minister’s wife and enjoyed a communion with God. Regardless of her health, she must and will attend the church service this Sunday.”
“Because of Thomas?”
“Yes.” The lines of his mouth grew grim. “But not Thomas Ashford. My father’s name was also Thomas.”
“And she must attend the service for him?”
Brader nodded. “She has done so every year around the eighteenth of this month.”
“What is the significance of that date?”
His eyes hardened as he answered. “My father was hanged on the eighteenth of November thirty three years ago.” He didn’t add any more information. Julia was so stunned, he’d made a short bow and taken his leave before she recovered her wits.
The coach was full. Mrs. Elliott and Mrs. Brown accompanied them, since their help would be needed if Nan collapsed.
Julia found herself squeezed next to the broad, muscular body of her husband. His close proximity to her provided no balm for her troubled nerves. With every bounce and jolt of the coach, her thigh or arm pressed against his body. With her senses alerted to his every movement, Julia found herself wondering if she would ever be near to him without this wild awareness of his presence.
They arrived just before Pastor Jenkins closed the door to start the service. Catching sight of the coach, he held the door open for them. Brader quickly organized the unloading of the women and carried his mother to the front door through the light, cold drizzle.
“Come in, come in,” the pastor invited jovially, until he closed the door behind the newcomers and took a look at Julia. His mouth shut on any other words of welcome.
Julia lifted her eyebrow and greeted him with an aloof nod. She thought he’d been conspicuously absent the day she’d paid a call at the vicarage. Nor had it escaped her attention that the good pastor had not returned her call.
Nan insisted on walking up the aisle herself, although she leaned heavily on her son’s arm. Mrs. Elliott and Mrs. Brown followed. Julia started up the aisle behind them but discovered her feet refused to move.
It was happening again…just as it had three years ago.
A woman glanced back at Julia, studied her brazenly a moment, then leaned over to the woman next to her and whispered. That woman, in turn, glanced back toward Julia. Their actions were repeated as a wave of disapproval swept through the small church.
Julia had no doubt that word of her marriage, her humiliation at her own ball, and every gossipy tidbit about Lawrence had fueled the neighborhood rumor mills for the past week. If she’d created a sensation in London, she probably had the local gentry gossips whirling like dervishes!
Her fingers strayed to the scar on her left wrist. She would not back down from these people with their narrow minds. Refusing to hang her head in shame, she forced herself to step forward.
Brader, having settled Nan, looked back for her at that moment. His piercing gaze honed in on her hand rubbing her wrist. He frowned and looke
d sharply around the church, evaluating.
Julia kept her sights on him, ignoring the stiffness in the set of the parishioners’ shoulders and the way people turned their heads to avoid looking directly at her while their children gaped openly. She burned with indignation—not for herself; she’d suffered through this scene at Danescourt—but for Nan. Brader could take care of himself, but Julia didn’t want any of her shame to rub off onto good, gentle Nan.
So intense was her concentration, Brader startled her when he met her halfway down the aisle. In a low voice, for her ears alone, he said, “We don’t have to stay.”
Julia pressed her lips together, embarrassed that her distress was so obvious. With twin pools of heat staining her cheeks, she said, “No. I don’t run.”
In silent answer, Brader took her hand in his. He pulled back the edge of her glove, exposing the faint scar. Reverently, he lifted her hand to his lips and lightly kissed the scar.
Julia’s breath caught in her throat at his action in front of the avidly staring worshipers. If Brader had shouted a defense of his wife, he couldn’t have shocked the good people of the parish—including Julia—more.
Brader smiled, appearing to enjoy the scene he was creating, and placed her hand in the crook of his arm to escort her to their place among the pews. Around her, people made a great show of arranging hymnals. Julia could feel a reluctant smile tug at her lips.
Brader held on to her hand, refusing to give it up even after they sat down. On the other side of Julia, Nan reached over, her hand moving with the lightness of a sparrow, and patted Julia’s arm until she found her daughter-in-law’s other hand and grasped it.
Julia looked sharply at Nan, afraid the woman had sensed the undercurrents of the situation but was quickly relieved of her fears when Nan leaned over and whispered loud enough for Brader to hear, “I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d get Brader into church for Sunday service.”
Julia smiled and shot a teasing look at her husband from beneath her lashes. “Neither did I,” she agreed.
Brader gave her hand an admonishing squeeze, but his mouth twitched suspiciously.
Julia forced herself to return her attention to the sermon. For the first time in three years, flanked by her husband and her mother-in-law, she felt a part of the world around her. With a start, she realized it didn’t make a difference that Brader was a tradesman and her social inferior. He’d stood beside her, walking up the aisle. She fought the lump forming in her throat in gratitude for his support.
Of course, the worst was not over. The worst always came at the time of departure. Then the women would make a great show of not wanting themselves or their families tainted by Julia’s presence. While Nan prayed for the immortal soul of Brader’s father, Julia prayed to leave the church without creating a scene that would embarrass her new family.
Brader left them immediately following the last hymn, ostensibly to arrange for their coach to meet them at the doorway. With the last note of the “Amen,” Julia rose. Unafraid to look at any of the gentry directly, she noticed that they avoided meeting her eyes. Here it comes, she warned herself, and considered a graceful exit so that Nan could not hear the whispers and cruel words.
“I found the sermon edifying, didn’t you, Mrs. Wolf?” Mrs. Elliott asked. “Our Lord’s message conveying charity and goodwill to all our fellow men and women always strikes to the heart of the matter.” Mrs. Elliott took some of the stiffness out of her words with a wink toward Julia.
Bemused by such staunch support, Julia smiled her appreciation and whispered, “Yes, the sermon was edifying.”
A touch at her elbow claimed her attention. “Mrs. Wolf?”
Julia turned with some surprise to greet the parson’s wife. She smiled. “It is good to meet you again, Mrs. Jenkins.”
The woman gave her a shy answering smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to return the call you paid last week.”
“Perhaps next week,” Julia answered stiffly.
Mrs. Jenkins took a big breath. “Well, actually, I thought you might be interested in joining the Ladies’ League. We are a small group of neighborhood women who work together on programs for those less fortunate than ourselves.”
Julia cocked her head and gave the smaller woman a shrewd look, before shaking her head. “I’m very flattered, Mrs. Jenkins, but I believe you understand my answer must be no.”
The mousy parson’s wife raised her head high. “Mrs. Wolf, I beg you to reconsider. I realize you did not receive the warmest reception this morning, but I place no stock in rumor and gossip. If I did, I would not have defied my husband and accepted your call the other day.” She added, “Please do not think ill of Andrew. He has a great number of wealthy patrons to please.”
“But you refuse to be governed by those patrons?”
Mrs. Jenkins drew herself up to her full diminutive height. “I have heard how fairly you and your husband treat the tenants and servants at Kimberwood. I believe you will make an excellent addition to our committee.”
“And will your husband approve?” The words jumped out of Julia’s mouth before she had a chance to stop them.
Mrs. Jenkins’s fine gray eyes gave her whole person animation. “Before the service, no. However, since your husband has offered to make several much-needed repairs to the parish and church, Andrew has had a change of heart. It seems your husband has a great deal more money than all the other patrons.” She sighed. “A parson learns quickly that faith is an important matter, but it is money that does the Lord’s work…and patches the holes in the roof.”
But Julia no longer listened. Her gaze flew to the back of the church, where Brader respectfully waited for the other parishioners to clear the aisle, his face impassive. She wondered if he would ever admit to bribing the clergyman into accepting her.
Mrs. Jenkins must have divined Julia’s thoughts for she said, “Please understand, your husband’s offer had no bearing on my invitation. He just made it easier for me to give it without a marital argument.”
Nan voiced her opinion. “You should do it, Julia. I believe you would enjoy the activity. I used to truly relish my time spent with good Christian women.”
“But would they enjoy my company?” Julia asked gently, all too wary of inviting a public snub.
“The women on the committee are not like those who have nothing to do but gossip and sit in judgment of others. I believe you will make a place for yourself among us,” Mrs. Jenkins answered.
Julia pushed her doubts aside. “I would enjoy nothing better than to attend your meeting.”
“Then I shall expect you Tuesday morning at ten,” Mrs. Jenkins said, as Brader walked up to them.
Julia agreed to the time and introduced her husband to Mrs. Jenkins. After the courtesies, Brader insisted on carrying Nan from the church and Nan let him, an indication of how much the trip had taken out of her.
At Kimberwood, Brader carried Nan upstairs to her room. Julia hovered anxiously behind them, flanked by the two companions. Nan’s body shook from the cold. Her complexion had taken on the gray color from earlier in the morning when she’d been so upset. But her spirit was alive. As Brader laid his mother gently down on the mattress, Nan smiled with contentment.
When he started to pull away, Nan’s hand grasped the cape of his greatcoat with surprising strength. She lifted thin, bony fingers to her son’s face, lightly tracing the masculine outlines, the bump in his nose, the dark brows.
Finally, she whispered, “I loved him.”
“I know,” Brader answered.
Julia hated eavesdropping but could think of no way to leave the room without breaking the spell between mother and son. Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Elliott also stood silently, ill at ease.
“He would have been so proud of you,” Nan told him.
Brader’s lips pressed together, as if holding back words of contradiction.
Nan’s fingers traced the tenseness in the serious lines of his lips. “You two are very much alike
. Even though you never knew your father, not a day passes that you don’t remind me of him.”
“Mother—”
Nan’s soft voice shushed him. “No, don’t say it, Brader. I’ve always understood what you felt, your shame. But you must understand that soon I will join him, and John and Mary.”
A look of pain crossed his face. He shook his head with the innocent denial of a child. Julia wanted to turn away, unsettled by his vulnerability, but couldn’t.
“Don’t.” He had to pause a moment, because his voice threatened to betray him. He continued, his deep voice commanding, “Don’t speak that way. I need you.”
A tear slid from Nan’s eyes to run down the thin, papery skin of her cheek to the linen of the bedclothes. Her voice held a bittersweet sadness. “No, Brader. You don’t need me. You’ve always been strong.”
“Not that strong. Mother, you are all the family I have.”
“No. Now you have Julia.”
Brader’s body tensed at Julia’s name. He looked across the room to where she stood. Meeting his gaze, she silently attempted to communicate her empathy and, yes, her promise that Nan was right. Just as he provided support to her in the church, she would support him.
He turned back to Nan, who was already drifting off to sleep. Her thin hand absently patting him, her last words before sleep overtook her were so soft, Julia had to strain to hear them. “Julia will take care of you for me. Julia will love you.”
Brader didn’t react to Nan’s final promise but rose, his shoulders slumped as if he carried a heavy burden. Julia’s heart went out to him, but she stood rooted to her place on the carpet, afraid to show emotion or sympathy. Considering Brader’s feelings toward her, would he welcome words from her after such an intensely personal moment?
As it happened, Brader snapped himself out of his lethargy. With the care one would lavish on a child, he pulled a cover over his mother’s sleeping figure. His action brought Mrs. Brown to his side. Efficiently, the nurse leaned over her charge and checked for pulse and temperature, placing her wrist against Nan’s head and the neck below her ear.
All Things Beautiful Page 13