A Bond of Honour

by Joan Vincent

  "There you are, Lady Juliane,” Lady Tretain halted her. “Would you tell Holdt, if you see him, to be certain the extra grooms are liveried and wearing their gloves.

  "Also check the flower arrangements in the ballroom. They were not completely finished with them when I left.” The countess sighed tiredly. “I must rest if I am to make it through this night."

  Impulsively, she hugged a startled Lady Juliane. “I know I am not the easiest of women to abide, but Adrian has eased my fears concerning you by telling me of your plans after the ball. It is an odd choice in time, but then he is so like his father—sensible until he takes a notion. You have done him so much good.

  "I must go to my bed. See to it that you get some rest also. Must be in fine fettle, you know."

  Lady Juliane's eyes followed Lady Tretain's stately walk down the hall, baffled. What had the countess meant by her mind being eased? Best not to try and understand this family, she reasoned. Be thankful when they show some sense. Try as she might, Juliane could not stifle the “but why” echoing in her mind.

  A while later, Lady Juliane lay back on her bed, trying to rest. She had done all that had been bidden of her, even finding time for another visit to the children before she yielded to Bess and permitted the maid to close the draperies and have her lie down.

  Juliane was far too keyed up to sleep. All day she had been constantly fingered the ring Lord Adrian had given her. She tried to deduce his plan—his surprise—but her thoughts led to the remembrance of his tender glances, the thrill of his touch. His kisses.

  Reason told Lady Juliane he could not have told his mother what his plan was if it were anything less than honourable. Could it be?

  His actions and looks bespoke affection, perhaps love for her, but Lady Juliane longed for the assurance of words. Love had been a stranger long in coming. She was afraid to trust her judgment. Her thoughts whirled in confusion.

  * * * *

  "Time to be up and about, my lady,” said Bess. “They will dine earlier than usual this night. We mustn't keep them waiting."

  Lady Juliane opened her eyes. Had she truly fallen asleep? The shadowed sky answered her. “Goodness, Bess, why did you allow me to sleep so late?"

  "Never fear, my lady, your hip bath is ready. Let me unfasten you now. Go on in, I'll lay out your things. Call as soon as you're ready for the towel. I have it warming."

  Lady Juliane untied her wrapper as she walked across the room. She had found the small corner room equipped as a lavatory the most decided luxury in the house. Removing her wrapper, she stuck a hand tentatively in the water—perfect. She eased in and relaxed in the warmth.

  "Now, my lady,” Bess bustled in carrying a large towel that had been warmed before the fire. “We mustn't dawdle. I have everything laid out and Satter will be here shortly.

  "Do you think after the ball I might try my hand at powdering your hair? I've been practicing and think I could do it."

  Letting Bess chatter, Lady Juliane dressed. The sound of the girl's voice soothed, like the babble of a spring.

  "Ah, la, my lady, the gown must be the latest from London. I have never seen anything like it."

  "Yes, I feel positively naked with only two petticoats but I dare not wear my pannier; anything more than the hip pads will ruin its lines,” Juliane reasoned, more to herself than to Bess.

  Lady Juliane had seen such gowns in Lady Tretain's latest fashion magazines but had never thought to wear one.

  "Come, come,” fluttered Satter, as she entered all in a pother. “We must hurry, I still have so much to do for Lady Tretain. None can please her as I do."

  Setter held out the floor-length frock coat which was meant to protect the wearer's undergarments. Managing Lady Juliane expertly into it, she seated her and went deftly to work. Miffed because she had not been asked to comb her ladyship's hair, she sniffed at the lack of height and breadth to the style. When she had completed the dusting, the last auburn tress whitened, Setter begrudgingly allowed the effect was most becoming. Classic in detail, it set off Lady Juliane's facial lines and the soft curls lessened the severity into courtly elegance.

  Satisfied, Setter removed the frock coat and whisked out of the room without waiting for a dismissal or a thank you.

  "Oh, my lady,” breathed Bess. “You are—"

  "Let us refrain from judgment until we have the complete effect. Do you think it is time for the gown?"

  "Yes, my lady. Best to be a step ahead instead of three behind. Let me fetch Nell, she's been helping Alva. We don't want to chance crushing it."

  While she waited, Lady Juliane walked to the wardrobe. The gown had been hung on a pole across the open doors since early afternoon. Hesitantly, she reached out. The gown did not disappear at her touch. She was not dreaming.

  "I hope you won't mind my bringing Alva, my lady?"

  "Should you have left the children, Alva?"

  "Nell is watching them. Bess said this won't be takin’ long. I so wished to help,” pleaded Alva.

  "All right, but let us hurry. We must not take any chances with their safety. Do watch them closely this evening. There will be many strangers about,” counselled Lady Juliane.

  "Aye, m'lady.

  "What do I do, Bess?"

  "You have to help guide the skirts. Step up into that chair, my lady."

  "The chair?"

  "It's the only way I know of to get you into it without crushing it,” assured Bess.

  This manoeuvre done, not without many girlish giggles on the part of all, Bess eased the sleeves up, one at a time.

  "Now for the fastening. Alva, I think that's all we need you for. You can go back to the children."

  "Away with that frown,” said Juliane. “I will visit the nursery before we go down. Tell the children I will be there soon and—thank you,” Lady Juliane said, smiling.

  Bess began lacing the gown up from neck to mid-hip. After working down to mid-back she said, “My lady, I think we will have to tighten your stays a bit.” She was surprised at the demure acquiescence, for Lady Juliane had protested any tight lacing.

  Tightening completed, the ribbon was tugged through the last loops, tied off, and tucked under. Bess straightened and flounced the skirt, then stepped back to appraise the effect. She turned Lady Juliane to the glass. “Look, my lady."

  Her reflection amazed Lady Juliane. The gown, of finest sky-blue silk, overlaid with the sheerest of silver silks, took her breath away. Fashionable off-shoulder, tiny rosettes of matching colour formed shoulder straps and ran down either side of the centre front insert to the floor. The delicately gathered skirt flowed from the waist at side and back. Sequins had been worked in small floral patterns on the bottom third of the skirt and also over the full, half-sleeves.

  "My lady, I found these in the box that the dress was in. What would they be for?” asked Bess, holding single blue and silver rosettes in her hand.

  "I ... Why, would they not enhance my hair? The pins, let us try this. Yes, I do believe—what do you think?” she asked, seeking reassurance.

  "Just the right touch, my lady. You are so lovely,” sighed Bess.

  Lady Juliane turned slowly in front of the glass. She felt beautiful for the first time in her life.

  "I shall see the children before Lord Adrian is ready."

  "No, my lady. We shall see the children together,” the earl said as he entered through the connecting door.

  To Mallatt, who followed him carrying a small wooden chest, he said, his voice full of pride, “Did I not tell you?” He waved a hand toward Lady Juliane.

  "Yes, my lord,” answered Mallatt. He bowed deeply to Juliane. “You are most lovely, my lady."

  "Thank you, Mallatt,” she answered shyly.

  "I will take that, Mallatt. You may go.

  "Bess, please leave us also."

  Mallatt winked knowingly at Bess, crossed the room, and ushered the maid out. He knew of the betrothal ring and of the plans for after the ball and was determined that no one
disturb the pair this time.

  Lady Juliane grew increasingly nervous under Lord Adrian's scrutiny. “You are looking most handsome this evening, my lord,” she managed.

  Running an appraising eye over his evening dress, she took in the formfitting breeches and coat, which were of a sky-blue silk matching her gown. His small clothes were of silver silk. Gracing his immaculate white shirt lace, a lighter blue cravat matched his stockings. Silver shoes with sparkling silver buckles completed his ensemble. A modest periwig was the crowning touch. She knew they would be a striking pair.

  "You lack but one thing,” the earl noted quietly. “As Lady of the House of Tretain you must wear these.” Lord Adrian opened the wooden chest and withdrew a simple tiara fashioned in diamonds which he carefully settled in her hair. Next he handed her droplet earrings.

  As she fastened them on, he said, “I had this piece cleaned especially for you. It arrived along with something else of import this afternoon. I hope you approve.” Slowly Adrian raised a stunning diamond necklace.

  As he secured it about her neck, Juliane watched in the glass. Fingering it, she realized it was a simple rendering of the Tretain crest. Raising her eyes, she became captivated by his as he stared at their reflection.

  "Absolutely exquisite,” Adrian breathed as he slowly turned Juliane to face him. Pride and tender passion covered his features. Slowly he embraced Juliane, drawing her very close.

  She did not resist his lips as they claimed her own, but answered their gentle movement with a surge of feeling that startled her.

  Adrian responded hungrily and some time passed before he eased his hold and looked pensively at her.

  Juliane's mind searched for words, her heart pounded tumultuously. “My lord,” she began shakily.

  "Adrian,” he corrected with a slow smile.

  "My lord ... Adrian ... we shall be late. I ... I promised the children...” She was stayed by his look.

  The softness had left his expression, a question replacing it. He smiled tersely and made a leg. “Your wish is my command—for this night at least.” A twinkle lit his eyes.

  "I, dare to command you, my lord? Who could judge me guilty of that?” Lady Juliane asked, attempting to equal his bantering tease.

  Both knew their relationship had altered, deepened, but a further probing would have to wait until after the ball.

  Becoming conscious that they both had suddenly become very prim, the pair exchanged a bow and curtsy with mock seriousness, then broke into laughter.

  Warmth and security enveloped Juliane as she took Adrian's proffered hand and walked slowly with him to the nursery.

  CHAPTER 19

  The guard, Morton, opened the door to the nursery for them as they approached. Lord Adrian remained at his side for a few moments, checking instructions, while Lady Juliane entered.

  Alva hastily grabbed both Leora and André's hands to prevent them from running to Lady Juliane and mussing her gown.

  Lord Adrian entered as Juliane finished a slow pirouette before them.

  André, his eyes shining, clapped enthusiastically. Less interested, Leora was drawn by the flash of the sequins as the skirt swirled, the light of the setting sun causing them to glitter.

  "You are most beautiful,” said André softly. Tears suddenly sprung to his eyes. “I cannot but think of...” Swallowing hard, he ran and threw himself upon his bed, and broke into sobs.

  Leora was baffled by her sibling's action. “Ma mère, ma mère,” she cooed.

  Lady Juliane walked to her and held her hand. “Alva, come and take Leora into the other room for a moment.” Letting go of the little girl's hand, Juliane went to André. She sat on the bed and placed a hand comfortingly on his back, rubbing it slowly.

  "I am sorry,” he gulped out between sobs.

  "Do not be, André,” Juliane answered softly. “I understand. We will talk about it on the morrow. Now, dry your tears. You do not wish to spot my gown,” she teased gently, trying to draw him out.

  An overwhelming sadness filled her. Her appearance in ball dress could not have failed to evoke memories of a mother who loved parties far better than anything else.

  I should have thought of it, she mused, unhappy to have caused sadness on what appeared to be the beginning of a joyful night.

  "André, your Tante Juliane will believe herself unfit for the ball if you continue crying,” added Lord Adrian. He took one of Juliane's hands in his.

  "Do you not think she is lovely?"

  Juliane looked up at Adrian. His eyes told her that he knew most of the story—that he too wished to ease the boy's melancholy thoughts.

  Sitting up and wiping his tears away, André flashed a weak smile.

  "That is much better,” smiled Lady Juliane in return. “We must go now. Obey Alva and let no one enter your rooms."

  "Can I not see you dance?” he asked.

  "Not this evening, son,” answered Lord Adrian. “But you may watch our very next ball. All night if you wish."

  "Oh, merci.” Thinking on it a moment, he frowned. “That will be so long from now."

  "No,” laughed Lord Adrian, tousling André's curls. “It will be but six weeks hence, soon after we open our house in London. I will tell you more tomorrow,” he added, not only to André, but also in answer to Lady Juliane's questioning look.

  "Alva,” he called, “make certain the doors are secured."

  Returning to the room carrying Leora, the girl nodded. “Aye, m'lord."

  "Let us go, Juliane. I cannot wait to see Louís’ expression."

  "He cannot help but appreciate our appearance, although he may not be pleased with your looks,” she said, a sparkle in her eyes.

  "Why is that?"

  "Your attire cannot but put his to shame this evening, my lord."

  Lord Adrian halted at the top of the stairs. “You will never succeed with such flattery. Besides, I thought we had reached an understanding.” Placing a kiss lightly upon her lips, he said sternly, “I will do this every time you fail to call me by name this evening."

  Blushing, Lady Juliane blurted, “You would not dare."

  "We shall see. Your hand, my dear,” he said, raising his. “We must make a suitably formal entrance."

  * * * *

  Holdt watched the earl and his lady glide gracefully down the stairs. Although he succeeded in tempering a smile at his pleasure in them, he failed to hide his pride. As the two continued toward him, he stepped through the double doors into the drawing room and announced sonorously: “Lord Adrian, Earl of Tretain and Lady Juliane, Countess of Tretain."

  A thrill sweep through Juliane. If only it could be. She looked at Adrian and was buoyed by the love she saw in his eyes.

  The silence that fell was broken only by their footsteps as Holdt's announcement ended. Everyone stared.

  Lord Adrian led Lady Juliane to his mother. She curtsied low as Lord Adrian made a leg.

  "My children, you are an assured success.” She took Juliane's hand. “Tomorrow and all the days after you shall reign rightfully as Lady Tretain. No,” she stopped Juliane from speaking, “as much as I dislike the title, I am most pleased to be the dowager countess."

  Lady Juliane thought she saw a tear in Lady Tretain's eye, but the older woman snapped her fan open and turned.

  "Comte de Cavilón,” she ordered, pointing at him with her fan. “You will have the honour of escorting me this evening."

  "I am most pleased to be so distinguished,” he answered.

  "Lady Juliane, may I say you are tres belle this evening?” he added.

  "Only when I am present,” interposed Lord Adrian lightly.

  The comte smiled and nodded. He had noticed the pair's new rapport, their beaming faces, and loving gazes.

  "Holdt, what are you waiting for? Announce dinner. I do not wish to be rushed,” said Lady Tretain as she placed her hand on Cavilón's arm.

  "We will follow you, my son,” she added, smiling her approval.

  "As you wish
, Mother.

  "Juliane."

  The dinner went well. Sitting beside Lord Adrian, Lady Juliane found it a much more pleasant experience than the previous evening.

  Lord Adrian pointed out various neighbours who had been invited, adding pithy remarks to each name. Lady Juliane's enjoyment and confidence increased as the meal progressed and she acknowledged the highly complimentary looks she received.

  Then, much later, in looking from Lord Adrian to the Marquess of Bout who was seated on her other side, Lady Juliane caught sight of Holdt, whispering in Lady Tretain's ear.

  Nodding at his words, the dowager signalled to Lady Juliane that it was time to rise.

  Lord Adrian had also seen Holdt and, after exchanging a mutual “now it begins” look with Juliane, he stood. Immediately the remainder of the company rose.

  The dowager Countess Tretain, Lord Adrian, and Lady Juliane walked slowly to their places in the receiving line just outside the ballroom.

  "I have long dreamed of this day, my son—as you well know. You have made me very proud and happy,” Lady Tretain said as the first guests reached them.

  "Do not be nervous, my dear,” she added to Lady Juliane. “You could not be lovelier."

  "You see, I am not alone in my view. Now you must believe me,” smiled Lord Adrian, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “This will be over soon. Curiosity will prevent anyone from being tardy in arriving. That is the custom in London, but not here."

  Nothing in Lady Juliane's previous experiences prepared her for her position in the receiving line. Accustomed to assuming an unobtrusive place at the functions she had hosted for her brother, she was almost overwhelmed by the attention now shown her.

  Her hand felt as if it would never recover from the clutches and crushes it received. Never had it been subjected to so many gallant kisses or her person to so many compliments. Finding it all tremendously uplifting, Lady Juliane completely forgot her worries and faced the prospect of the actual ball with more enthusiasm.

  Some time later Lady Tretain motioned it was time to enter the ballroom.

  Placing a kiss lightly on her gloved hand, Lord Adrian laughed quietly. “Courage, Juliane. The inspection we are about to receive will be most critical. They will judge us and therefore feel free to dismiss us from their minds."