by L. R. Olson
I swallowed hard, fighting back my outrage, my sorrow, my shame. “But, Father said it would be fine. Mother seemed to think…”
Penny shook her head. “Mother’s sister…the one who died in a carriage accident twenty years ago when she was nineteen was just as wild as you, Jules. People say our blood is tainted! For some reason Whitfield has overlooked our mishaps and likes me. I won’t ruin that.”
I stood, grasping onto my bed post, my knees suddenly weak. “Tainted blood? You can’t be serious.”
She didn’t reply, merely turned to face me. The look in her gaze was like a knife through the heart. I’d never seen Penny annoyed with me. But it was obvious she was angry…angry that she had to marry someone she might not love because of her sister. She blamed me…blamed me for having to marry her Whitfield.
“It was just a bloody kiss!” I cried out.
Penny’s jaw clenched, her chin tilting stubbornly. “Everyone knows, Jules, that it’s never merely a kiss. We’re taught that from the time we’re old enough to think.”
Penny was right. For once, my silly sister was right. She’d always been proper, had always abided by the rules. While I…I had always done whatever I felt. Always rushed headlong into situations without thinking them through. What was wrong with me? I could no longer ignore that all too familiar guilt.
Penny started toward the door. “I think…I think I’ll sleep in my room tonight.”
Since she was five and had been frightened during a storm, Penny had always slept in my room. I watched her head toward the door, tears blurring my eyes. They were wrong, they were. One kiss couldn’t ruin a family, could it?
“I’ll fix it, Penny. I promise.”
She didn’t respond, merely pulled open the door and left my room.
I fell back onto the bed. Penny hated me. All this time, these past two years, she’d secretly been angry with me. It hadn’t been Father and Mother forcing her into marriage after all. I suddenly felt as if I didn’t truly know my sister.
James.
The name whispered temptingly through my mind.
I closed my eyes and pictured his handsome face. He was the answer to my prayers. If I married him, all would be well. A gentleman farmer was good enough for a ruined woman, surely Father would see that. We were attracted to each other. There had to be worse things to base a relationship on. Penny could marry her earl, or not. It would be her decision.
“I want you, Jules. It’s up to you whether you’d like to come to an agreement or if you want this to be once.”
He’d practically asked me to marry him, hadn’t he? Or maybe it had been a warning. I wasn’t sure. What sort of man would he be in bed? An image of his hot, hard body moving over mine had me flushing. I shivered just thinking about his brutal strength.
In the corner of the room stood my easel and my latest work…a painting of a cottage by the sea. But it was a mere dream. Just a dream. I crawled across my bed, sliding underneath the covers.
Tomorrow, I’d go see James and accept his unspoken proposal, with or without my family’s approval. It was time for me to stop being the burden. It was time to right a wrong.
Chapter 5
Julianna
“Darling, do put on your best. That green silk that brings out the red in your hair.”
I turned away from the painting I’d been working on throughout the week. Something wasn’t quite right with the clouds, or perhaps it was the cottage itself. Or maybe it was merely that I had been discontent for days now, and it was showing in my work.
Today was the day I’d speak to James. I’d lay all my cards out on the table, as Father would say. I couldn’t wear my best green silk, I would look desperate. But of course Mother had no idea what I had planned.
“Mother, my hair is not red. It’s brown. Plain, old, dirt brown.”
Wearing only my slippers, stockings, shift and corset, I’d been waiting for Sarah to bring my gown. Anxious. Nervous. Excitement. I merely wanted to get on with the day.
“Nonsense. There are hints of red.” She hurried across the room, carrying my green silk. She must have caught Sarah in the hall and demanded the girl return my plain blue day gown to the dressing room. “Blonde would be nice, but well…we must work with what the lord gives.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and met her near the bed. My mother found my brown hair so horrifying that she preferred I had audacious red, just to make me special and stand out in a crowd. If only I was cream and roses with blonde hair, as she and Penny. But no, I took after my father’s side. “Mother, I’m late for an appointment. I’d truly like to run to town. I must see Cecilia before Penny’s gathering.”
“Cecilia is visiting with Mrs. Lawson. You can see her at the gathering.”
I flushed, caught in my lie. “Well, I would appreciate a moment to myself. You know how I like to gather my thoughts, calm my nerves before a large gathering.”
“No. No moments. No gathering of thoughts.” She gripped the strings of my corset and pulled, squeezing the air from my lungs. I gave an unladylike grunt and grasped the bedpost, worried the lack of oxygen would cause me to faint. “You’ll go outside and get your dress dirty.”
If I fainted, I doubted Mother would care. No, she’d merely flip me over on my stomach and continue to pull on my corset strings until I turned blue. I’d be dead, but I’d have the perfect waistline and that was all that mattered. Truth was, being ruined had actually saved our relationship. Mother no longer hounded after me to be proper and find a husband. I was left to my own devices while she focused on Penny. But Penny would be leaving us all too soon.
She finally stopped as I began to gasp for air. “There, I think that will do.”
“Yes, my ribs have cracked, but what does it matter?” I panted. “And if they cut into my lungs, no worries, I’ll merely cough the blood discretely into a handkerchief and smile merrily.”
Mother took the skirts from the bed. “Do not be dramatic, Jules. No man likes an overly-dramatic female.”
“Well that can’t be true. Half the women of the ton are overly dramatic ninnies who are well and married.”
“Yes, and God willing one day you will be too.”
I blanched at the thought. Lord, after all these years Mother still held out hope. Why the sudden change in heart? Something was most definitely wrong.
“Why the urging?” I waited as she helped me step into the skirts. “Why the good dress? What have you planned, Mother?”
She pulled the skirts up over my crinoline, securing the buttons. “Oh, no reason.”
I frowned. Mother could lie with the best of them, but I had known her my entire life. She never did anything without reason. “Sarah,” she called out. The door opened. “Hurry now, the bodice.”
The maid scurried to the bed where the bodice lay. “Here, my lady.”
Mother held up the piece. It really was beautiful. Dark green silk with florets embroidered in gold. I shoved my arms through the long sleeves. The bodice fit tight, showing off the curves of my body. Pretty for a ball. But the neckline was much too low for a day dress. “Mother, please, this is Penny’s moment. I won’t draw attention to myself and take it from her.”
“Posh, don’t be silly. She’s already caught her man.”
I stiffened. “Has he proposed?”
I still had yet to meet him, although rumor was swirling around the house that he was staying in town for some time, in order to court Penny. Frankly, I didn’t want to meet him. He’d arrived yesterday, but I’d been fortunate enough to be visiting Cecilia in the village. And yes, I might have been hiding in the woods, making sure to take my time when walking home.
“No, not yet. But he will today. We’re sure of it. He’s already spoken with father.”
I stiffened. “What? When?”
“During yesterday’s visit, which you missed,” she pointedly reminded.
“Ahh, I see.” And suddenly I did. She didn’t want me to look good for Penny’s party
, but for me. “So that’s what this is about.”
My clothing secured, she stepped back and looked me over with a critical eye. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean…” I reached up, rubbing my head where a pin dug into the scalp. Sarah had been to my room only thirty minutes ago to give me an elaborate coiffure at my mother’s request. I should have guessed then and snuck out before she could capture me in her matchmaking web. “This is about finding me a husband.”
“Don’t touch your hair,” Mother shouted, slapping my hand away from the braids that curled around my head. “Such thick, heavy hair won’t hold up long.”
“Mother, are you husband hunting?” I rested my hands on my hips, annoyed and infuriated. I thought we had moved beyond these games. “I don’t need for you to find me a husband!”
Did they not learn their lesson the last time?
Her blonde brows drew together. “Why? Have you found someone?”
Flushing, I averted my gaze. Until I received confirmation from James, I wouldn’t say a word. Otherwise Mother would be picking out the china, and announcing the banns the moment I said his name. “No, of course there’s no one.”
“Good.”
Her response more than startled me. I followed her into the hall. “Good? You don’t wish for me to marry?” I grinned at her, feeling slightly mollified. “You would miss me too much?”
“Of course I would miss you, but that’s not why.”
We started down the stairs that led into the foyer of the house. Even still to this day I was in awe of how elegant my mother moved. As a child I had wanted so badly to be like her. But with one unintentional mishap after another, it had become clear I would never be as elegant, as poised. And so I had given up and accepted the inevitable…I was a heathen. An irrational, emotional artist. I only wished my mother and father could accept me as well. But I made them laugh and smile, and that counted for something…I hoped.
We started down the main hall, toward the back of the house. “No, it’s good, because if you found a man, I could imagine what he would be like.”
“Oh do tell,” I insisted as we headed toward Mother’s private parlor. “Someone debonair and handsome?”
She gave an unladylike snort. “More like a wastrel out to find a wealthy heiress so he can paint his life away.”
I pressed my hand to my heart. “Why mother, you’ve described me.”
She slid me an annoyed glance. I’d given up showing my paintings to my parents long ago. They’d been proud at first, realizing their daughter had talent. But as the years had gone by and I’d invested more and more time into my art, they’d become less than thrilled. There were none of my paintings hanging in the house, instead they were stuck in my room and in the attic.
“Dear, do go into the parlor please. We’ve a visitor in need of company while I check on tonight’s dinner.”
I frowned. Only special guests were allowed into Mother’s sitting room. “Who is there?”
“Reverend Thomas.”
“Oh, Mother!” I whined like a child told to eat her Brussel sprouts. The one man on this earth who could make me stomp my feet like a three year old. “You know how he is!”
But she had disappeared around the corner, leaving me in the hall alone. Part of me wanted to flee. To tip-toe outside and race to James’ home. Blast, but I had things to do. Important things! Life-altering events. I peeked into the parlor. Reverend Thomas stood at the windows looking out onto the back rose garden, and no doubt finding the blooms too bright and sinful.
But of course Mother wouldn’t know that I had important things to do. And if I did tell her about James, she would insist on speaking to him before I’d had a chance to talk to him in private. Our entire relationship, whatever it was, had been between the two of us. Only James and I. I’d rather the world not quite be involved yet.
Besides, James was most definitely the sort of man who would want honesty, for me to speak to him directly, instead of sending my parents to do my bidding. A reluctant smile pulled at my lips as I imagined the mocking glint in James’ eyes should I send my parents to ask him to marry me.
Reverend Thomas could wait. I needed to see James before Mother caught wind of our affair. Cautiously, I started to turn and flee toward the front door. A floorboard underfoot squeaked. Reverend Thomas glanced over his shoulder, blonde brows raised in question.
I froze near the threshold.
Too late.
There was nothing wrong with his looks. He was quite handsome with his blond hair and blue eyes, and more than one woman had wished for a marriage proposal when he’d first arrived to our parish. But those eyes were cold, and he’d soon made it clear he had no interest in marriage and only found purpose with saving our wretched souls. Nothing made him happy.
His lips lifted into a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He almost looked in pain. He never smiled with joy. He never burst out laughing as James had when I said something he found ridiculous. He only looked at me with reprimand in his gaze. “Julianna.”
I curtsied. “Reverend Thomas. Are you here for the dinner?”
Why was he so early? The first guests wouldn’t be arriving for hours. I dared to glance back toward the hall. Lord, Mother didn’t expect me to keep him company that long, did she? I hated being alone with the man. It felt as if he knew my every fault merely by looking at me. As if my very being was a sin.
“Yes, although not only for the gathering. I’m here for another reason.” He strolled toward the settee. “Come. Sit.”
As if it was his parlor I visited, I did as was told. Smoothing down my skirts, I made sure to leave room between us. I didn’t like him. I never had. From the first moment he’d arrived and reprimanded the women in town for their colorful clothing, I had detested him. There was something about the man that made my entire body tighten.
His gaze was full of haughtiness. “I’d like to talk to you, Julianna.”
“Of course.”
“As you know, as a reverend it is my duty to be an acceptable role model for my flock.”
Role model? That sounded rather pompous to me, but I managed to bite my tongue. “Of course.”
“I need to marry, to provide an example for those who follow.” He stared at me intently. I shifted, a cold rush of unease racing down my spine. “Do you understand?”
No, I didn’t. “Surely you put too much pressure upon yourself,” I murmured, glancing desperately at the door. “My mother should be here any—”
“It is what’s expected.”
I dared to meet his cold gaze. “Oh, I’m sure no one expects—”
“I’m asking you to consider marrying me.”
My heart practically leapt from my chest. The world around me tilted off balance and I found myself falling…falling…
“Julianna?”
I forced my feet to remain firmly upon the ground, my back straight. I would not faint in front of this man. “I’m hardly a respectable woman, sir,” I blurted out.
He sighed and nodded. “Yes, but you can change. And if the town sees that you have improved with my assistance.” His shoulders went back and he proudly smiled. “It will only make me look all the more trustworthy.”
He wanted to marry me so that he could show his flock how wonderful he was? How he’d married the town harlot and somehow made her respectable? He was a bloody saint. “I’d prefer to marry someone who actually enjoyed my company.”
He flushed, surprising me by showing an emotion other than arrogance. “I do admit that I find you rather attractive, as one of god’s sheep.”
“I’m flattered,” I muttered drolly. “But if you like me, then why would you wish to change me?”
“Improve you.” He rested his hand atop me. It was cold, thin, and pale, so unlike James’ strong and warm hands. “I see what you could be.”
I pulled my hand away. “Perhaps I don’t want to change.”
“Why would you not?” He seemed genu
inely confused. “Do you not wish for your sister to marry well? Do you not wish to ease your parent’s worries over what will happen to you when God comes calling for them?”
I gritted my teeth, ashamed and angry all at once. How I loathed him in that moment. Loathed my mother and father. Loathed even Penny. Night after night of quiet and uncomfortable dinners flashed to mind. Afternoons of doing nothing but reading the bible. Sitting passively by while he listed my many sins and faults. He would crush my spirit. I would run away, I would join a bleedin circus, before I’d marry him!
“Reverend, I don’t think…”
He surged to his feet, his jaw clenched in anger. “I suggest you do think about the offer. I do not, my dear, think you will get a better one.”
My refusal had offended him. Good. I prayed he would never return. With those words he left the room. I could hardly blame him for being angry. I’d made my disgust perfectly clear. Why me? Why did he wish to marry me? Surely he didn’t love me. He didn’t love anyone but himself.
I supposed that he thought it was a fair trade, after all, he would save me from myself.
I was ruined. I was wild. I needed to be meek, God-fearing.
He would teach me.
And in exchange I would provide him with the family he needed in order to appear distinguishable. But he didn’t understand that I would never bend to his will. That I would hate him the entire time. That he would grow to hate me, if he didn’t already.
Mother wanted me to marry the reverend. The very man who had preached only last Sunday that art was the devil’s work and we must not be swayed by beauty. Mother wanted me to marry him? Did she not know me at all? Or did she not care? Anger had me surging to my feet and racing from the room moments after Reverend Thomas had left.
“Jules?” Mother called out as I rushed by. “Is everything well?”
Ignoring her, I shoved open Father’s study door. “Father, I cannot.” I shook my head. “Will not…”
He looked up from his books, frowning. “Jules?”