She broke the wafer and opened it, scanning the words formed in the Duke’s fine hand. While he didn’t seek to berate her, the letter was short and to the point. He sought a reason for her hasty abandonment of her position. He was angry and disappointed in her. She had expected it. But it still upset her terribly. What could she tell him? Seated at the small desk beside the parlor window, she scribbled a few lines explaining that she had initially been called away due to a family emergency, but since coming home, she decided to remain close to her family and had reconsidered and accepted Mr. Walter Judd’s offer of marriage. She blotted the paper, folded it, and handed it to George. “Will you tell the children…” She shook her head. “No, best not.”
“They miss you sorely, Miss Harrismith,” George said. “Miss Green does her best, but…” He shrugged.
“I expect my replacement will arrive soon, and once she’s settled in… children do adjust in time,” Jenny said faintly, failing to convince herself. George looked skeptical as well. With a deep breath, she attempted to smile. “Please give my regards to the duke and say I am sorry I left so abruptly, but it was unavoidable,” she said, fighting to keep her composure. “I hope your journey home proves uneventful, George.”
George looked perplexed. He cast her a sympathetic glance. “I am sorry you are no longer to care for the children, Miss Harrismith. I shall relay your message to the duke. Good day.” He replaced his hat and left her.
As the coach drew away, Charlie came flying down the stairs. “I say, what a fine matched set of horses, the leader was quite splendid! And the coach! Whose was it?” He swiped his unruly curly brown hair out of his eyes. “I couldn’t make out the crest on the door panel from upstairs.”
“It was the Duke of Harrow’s coach, Charlie. His footman brought me a letter.”
“The duke doesn’t want you to come back, does he, Jenny?” he asked, scowling. “You only just got here.”
“No, Charlie, he doesn’t.” Her letter would sever her connection with His Grace and Castlebridge forever. She placed a hand on her chest where the pain in the region of her heart almost made her gasp. “Let’s go down to the kitchen and help Cook and Molly prepare supper.”
*
Jenny’s letter was handed to Andrew at dusk. He thanked George and sat in the library to mull over it. He had not expected a betrothal! Had Jenny been pining for some Yorkshire fellow? No, she had told him she’d refused the man’s offer. She was even prepared to leave her home rather than marry him. Curious that she’d resolutely refused to tell him the reason.
Andrew leaned an elbow on the desk and threaded his fingers through his hair as he tried to read between the lines. What had occurred to change her mind? He found the whole business unsatisfactory. While he was prepared to believe that Jenny would prefer marriage to working as a governess, it had all happened too fast. It was far too neat. And she was too vague about the reason for her change of heart, and her rush home. While the news unsettled him, and left him suspicious, there was little he could do about it, but to wish her well.
The door opened, and Raymond strolled in, his arm in a sling. “The doctor tells me I will be able to cast this off tomorrow. I can return to London.” He took a chair before the desk.
“That’s good news,” Andrew said automatically, his thoughts still on the letter.
“What have you there?” Raymond asked, displaying his usual lack of discretion. But somehow, Andrew welcomed the bond which still existed between them. Having discovered it was not Raymond who sought to hurt his family, he had forgiven him for falling under Greta’s spell. After all, he had done so himself for a time.
“It’s a letter from Miss Harrismith,” he said. “She left us rather hurriedly, as you know. It appears she is about to marry. But it seems strange to me that it’s all been so sudden.”
Raymond eyed him thoughtfully. “You should go to York and see for yourself.”
“What possible good would that do? I’m not about to invite Miss Harrismith back to take up her duties as my children’s governess, rather than accept a proposal of marriage.”
“No, but you might have a better suggestion,” Raymond said, with a slight grin. “You have feelings for her, Andrew.”
“What?” Andrew stared at him, a little annoyed by his cousin’s perspicacity. He was not prepared to face these disturbing feelings which would likely lead him nowhere, or to put them into words. Was he a coward? Afraid to face further hurt? He firmed his jaw and glared at his cousin, who had stirred up these unwelcome emotions. “You are an incurable romantic, Ray.”
Undeterred, Raymond chuckled. “I’ve seen how you look when you speak of her. It’s blatantly obvious. Otherwise, why would you care if she doesn’t come back? If she marries some other fellow?”
“I don’t like mysteries. And the children are very upset.” Andrew glanced up at the painting of Catherine over the fireplace.
“You are ready to put the past behind you and take a chance on love,” Raymond said. “You considered marrying Greta, but she was not right for you. Perhaps Miss Harrismith is? The children love her. And even if you’re not ready to admit that you love her too, at least go and see her.”
“I don’t see that such an action would serve. Not without a very good reason.” Andrew turned again to the letter. “Have you ever come across a Walter Judd in York?”
“No, can’t say I have, but I’ll look him up if it will be of any help to you.”
“I’d be grateful if you would, Ray. I want to be sure in my own mind that she’s marrying a decent fellow.”
“And if he is decent?”
“Then I shan’t take things any further.”
“Not like you to be a quitter, Andrew.”
A smile lifted his lips. “Go to London, Ray. I need time to think.”
Raymond headed for the door. “I’ll write if I hear anything of interest.”
Andrew nodded, lost in thought. When he raised his head, the door had closed on his cousin. He pushed back his chair. Best to check on the children, who had become unusually submissive and alarmingly quiet.
The agency had acted swiftly. Two days later, Andrew had approved a new governess’ application. She was to arrive next week. He’d had success with William’s tutor too. Henry, brother of Andrew’s friend, Daniel Cowper, had accepted the appointment while he was studying for a doctorate at Oxford. So he expected life at Castlebridge to settle down again, which was what he wanted wasn’t it? But he wished he didn’t feel so hollow. Try as he might to put it behind him, Jenny’s going had left him confoundedly unsettled. Raymond accused him of being in love. But he’d been rocked by the vulnerability he’d felt when he found Jenny unconscious. A deep well of fear had swept through him, a sense of loss that scared him. He didn’t want to be that susceptible again. But not to take a chance on love was living a half-life. And his plan to marry a woman who hadn’t claimed his heart had been cowardly. He had to admit that he’d come to care deeply for Jenny. But he was not about to turn her life upside down if she’d truly found happiness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Negotiations had gone on for a couple of days between her father and Mr. Judd before the marriage settlements were complete. All the while, Jenny had tried to hide her fears from the rest of the family. In the mirror, she looked pale and wan and not her best, but at least the bruise had faded. A fear that Judd would choose Bella instead, had caused her to lie awake until the mauve dawn light crept through the gap in the curtains.
Bella had stopped her on the landing as she left her room. When the men’s voices rose from the hall, she paused to discern their tone. A lot of pleased chuckles rose up. Bella came to join her.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Jenny?” she asked again.
“Yes, dearest. Don’t worry. It’s all going to be fine.”
Jenny took a deep breath and descended to the hall.
Seated on the drawing room sofa, she tucked her skirts around her. Judd straightened his
shoulders and smiled, exhibiting his usual self-assurance. She’d found it surprising when he’d over imbibed that evening at the Assembly. He’d apologized the next day, and sent a flowery note along with a posy, showing the gentlemanly concern for her delicate sensibilities, that her father so approved of. He’d written that he’d been treating a cold and mixed strong medicine with wine. A very bad blend as it turned out. Judd hoped that he hadn’t said anything to upset her. He would be horrified if it was so. A delicate lady should never be subjected to a man’s sometimes regrettable baser instincts. She’d written back immediately to assure him he hadn’t, but that she had decided never to marry.
At the time she’d thought that would be the end of it, but Papa, very angry, had insisted she apologize and go ahead with the marriage. He had issued her with an ultimatum, marry Judd or leave. Jenny knew he didn’t want her to leave, he relied on her too much in the running of the house, but she decided the only way to protect her sisters, who Judd had expressed an unhealthy interest in, was to go. She had thought at the time that whatever Judd might do to her was one thing, but to allow him some control over this house was too awful to contemplate. But if he married Bella, he would have carte blanche to treat this family as he saw fit, and she had no confidence in her father preventing him.
Now Judd sat before her. He wasn’t handsome, but she couldn’t in all honesty call him plain. His full-lipped mouth suggested an overly indulgent nature, his brown hair already graying at the temples, a smile in his hazel eyes she’d come to mistrust. “I am pleased to see you’ve returned, Miss Harrismith,” he said. “Has your aunt recovered?”
What was her father thinking? She would begin a marriage with a lie. It made her even more vulnerable. For a moment, she was tempted to tell him the truth, but it wouldn’t do. He might refuse her and take Bella instead. “I’m afraid my aunt’s complaint is due to age, Mr. Judd,” Jenny said, not exactly deceitful as she was referring to Aunt Leonora. “But she is well cared for.”
“I daresay your time in London was good practice for caring for someone who is infirm,” he said. “Naturally, I haven’t told Mother that you walked about unescorted in that immoral metropolis.”
“I doubt I have suffered from the experience.” Jenny saw how his implication that she was capable of behaving inappropriately was meant to weaken her.
He nodded, and she caught a dangerous flicker in his eyes. “Perhaps not.”
Papa, looking pleased, stood. “Well, shall we have a glass of wine as it is all now settled? I shall place a notice of your engagement in the Leeds Intelligencer and send it to the London Chronicle.”
Rising, Judd bent over Jenny’s hand, his gaze probing hers so intensely she wanted to pull her hand away. “I am delighted that you have seen the sense of our marriage, Miss Harrismith.”
At the swift tightening of her chest, Jenny almost gasped. She had expected Judd to be unprincipled, sly, and clever, for through his feigned interest in her father’s beloved chivalric poetry, had manipulated Papa into believing Judd shared those interests, but she had not expected a deliberate campaign of cruelty. Yet there was no mistaking his vindictive expression. Did he look forward to punishing her for first rejecting him?
*
Restless, Andrew spent the next few days shut up with the bailiff in the estate room or appeasing his gamekeeper with the promise of a hunt ball in December. He visited his tenant farmers, sat drinking tea and praising the delicious cakes their wives put before him, while listening to any concerns they had. He offered Squire Grimshaw’s daughter, Sally, a kitten, and she’d come to the Castlebridge stables to choose one.
Andrew had impressed on Miss Green that Barbara was to be allowed to visit the stables every day. His soft-hearted daughter became upset when the kitten that looked most like Carrot had gone to a new home. It took every bit of Andrew’s diplomatic skills to smooth over the ruffled waters.
“Will Ginger have a warm bed, and lots to eat?” Barbara asked, remaining unconvinced.
“Sally promised to take good care of the kitten.” He searched his mind for a helpful analogy, but nothing appropriate came to mind. Then he seized on a story he had read to Barbara a few nights previously. “Why, Carrot’s baby will be like Cinderella. Remember, sweetheart? Cinderella lived in a simple hut and then went to live in a palace.”
Barbara sniffed. “Cinderella was a girl not a kitten.”
“Yes, that’s true, but still, the kitten has gone to a far better home than our stables,” he said, admitting to be failing badly.
Barbara frowned at him suspiciously. “And Sally’s home is not a palace.”
“The Grange is not precisely a palace, but still very comfortable,” he said, burying a sigh.
Barbara’s lips trembled. “We must tell Jenny.”
Andrew drew his daughter into his arms. “Would you like to ride your pony before luncheon?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Papa?”
“Jenny calls her father papa.”
“Does she? Then I shall be papa henceforth.”
Before long, Barbara was laughing atop the piebald pony. But Andrew knew it would be short lived. He had ridden to the river with William that morning, and despite promising to fly fish for trout with him tomorrow, the boy remained subdued. Andrew held onto the faint hope that the new governess would quickly replace Jenny in their hearts.
The next day, a letter from Raymond arrived, in answer to Andrew’s questions concerning Walter Judd. He appears to be a respected member of York society, with excellent land and a tidy fortune, Raymond wrote. But I have discovered something of interest. Judd is known to visit a brothel when in London. Not so unusual perhaps, for a single man, except that this one caters for abnormal interests. And I’ve been told that one of the girls was badly beaten by him. It begs a question about Mr. Judd’s inclinations. I know you will agree.
Alarmed Andrew dropped the letter on the desk. Not the sort of man a father would wish for his daughter, surely. Should he make the baron aware of this? Or would it be perceived as unwelcome interference? But could he simply do nothing? He turned to gaze out the window at the gardens, visualizing the young lady who crossed it with his children in tow carrying the ginger kitten. He ran a hand over his jaw as his unease grew.
That evening, he sat alone at the dining table after the covers had been removed, a crystal decanter of brandy and snifter on the table before him. He replenished his glass and sipped the smooth mellow contents. While he would make her father aware of Judd’s brutish nature, he accepted that he could provide little proof. His knowledge of Judd was hearsay. He could employ a Bow Street Runner to confirm what Raymond had told him, but that would take time. And if he delayed, it would prove too late. But Ray’s letter had so disturbed him he was determined to act to ensure Jenny was safe. And he had to face the real reason behind all of this. He wasn’t yet ready to give Jenny up, not without a fight.
He pushed away his glass before the liquor destroyed his clarity of thought. Rising from the table, he stood before the fire, staring into the flames. It had been too long since he’d faced his feelings and been honest with himself. One thing had become clear to him. He wanted Jenny, not just for his children’s sake, for his, in his life, and in his bed, for as long as the good Lord chose to bless them. Trouble was, he had no idea of Jenny’s feelings for him, for she’d given little sign, beyond the courtesy she afforded him as her employer. Jenny’s smile, the warm spark in her lovely eyes, could have been gratitude. He was in danger of making more of it than there was.
There was nothing for it, he had to find out if Jenny wished to marry this man. If she was happy, and felt nothing for him, he would come away and attempt to move on with his life.
The next morning, after breakfast, he rang for the coach to be brought around. And as he planned to put up at a York hotel, he had his valet pack him a portmanteau and accompany him. He wouldn’t leave until he was sure that Jenny wasn’t hiding something from him. He knew her to
be more than capable of sacrificing her own desires for those she loved.
Jenny woke to gray skies. Rain threatened, which reflected her heavy mood. Papa planned to take the carriage into York today. The announcement would appear in Saturday’s newspapers. Her marriage to Judd would then become a fait accompli with no chance of escape. But despite her fears, Jenny was determined to go through with it. She would match Judd’s sly nature with her feminine wiles. He would not get the better of her. Unless he sought to use violence, and for a moment, that possibility made her panic, and she took several deep breaths to calm herself.
She couldn’t back out now. Not after Beth crept into her room last night to tell her how much better she felt to have Jenny here.
“Nothing has happened to worry you, has it, Bethy?” she’d asked fearing her answer.
“Only Geoffrey.”
“Who is Geoffrey?”
“My orphaned otter pup. Papa had ordered me to take him back to the river. He says otters bite, and they smell, but Geoffrey never bites me.”
Jenny kissed her young sister’s cheek. “St. Francis of Assisi would approve of you, Beth.”
Beth widened her big eyes. “Why?”
“He was the patron saint of animals. He preached sermons to them and praised all creatures as brothers and sisters under God.”
Beth smiled. “I would have liked him, too.”
“If anything worries you, you will tell me, won’t you?”
Beth pushed back a pale blonde lock and nodded. “I am taking Geoffrey back to the river this afternoon. Would you like to come with me?”
“I should like that very much. Thank you for inviting me.” Jenny smiled. Beth always lifted her spirits.
Her father had loosened the purse strings, but it would hardly cover the cost of a wedding gown as other things were needed, Jenny would make her dress. She was quite good with a needle. She and Bella took the carriage into York to purchase material. They returned with a bolt of white satin, ribbons, and silk flowers to dress a straw bonnet. Jenny considered it a practical purchase. She could adapt the dress for future use. She held the material up in front of her before the mirror. Her eyes looked sad. She turned away to take out her sewing-basket, removing scissors, her silver thimble, needles, and thread.
Regency Scandals and Scoundrels Collection Page 67