by Jen Yates
Justin rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned closer to examine the area she indicated.
‘Looks tedious,’ he murmured. ‘Can you leave it for a while? There’s something I think you'd like to see in the stables. I brought your cloak. It's cold out.’
Liberty jumped up with alacrity, then smiled back at Goldie who was mending a tear in the hem of one of Liberty's walking gowns.
‘Time for a break, Goldie,’ she said, realizing she didn't have to try hard to sound delighted to see her husband. He had been so gentle, undemanding and—caring, she'd found it impossible to maintain any sense of resentment, nor could she dislike the man.
It was not the first time he'd appeared with a suggestion of some activity he hoped would please her. They’d visited the succession houses, the stables to see Contessa comfortably housed, and a new carriage horse foal with four perfect white socks and a star on its forehead.
They were comfortable moments, times of genuine accord between them for which Liberty was grateful. Her spirit would not have survived living in a state of constant bitterness.
‘What are we going to see?’ she asked as Justin draped the cloak about her shoulders and fastened it at her throat.
‘It's a surprise.’
His eyes twinkled down at her and Liberty bit back her usual response about surprises. She didn't like them. Unlike Verity, who would’ve been instantly dancing with excitement and anticipation.
She could be more like her little sister. She could.
Giving Justin an answering smile, she allowed him to take her arm and lead her through the house.
They went to the back entrance facing the stables where he told her to change her indoor slippers for outdoor boots and they walked through the kitchen gardens and around to the stables.
Strolling the length of the boxes, they greeted the horses and fed apples and carrots to the appreciative animals. Liberty spent some time talking with Contessa and stroking her velvety nose.
Justin's groom had ridden her beside the carriage from Stannesford. The animal had settled happily but the weather had not been clement for riding.
Justin did not hurry. He was endlessly patient and she appreciated that about him. He was not Levi, but she was finding much about the man to appreciate.
When she was ready to move on, Justin took her arm and led the way through the stables and into a lean-to area she'd not been in before. It seemed to be some sort of storage room, a bit dim and dusty, and then she realized there were odd little squeaking noises coming from the far corner.
As her eyes adjusted to the light Liberty saw a Yorkie terrier watching them intently from a pile of straw, in which wriggled and squirmed several Yorkie puppies.
‘Oh, Justin! What's her name?’
‘Misty—and her six babies, two boys and four girls.’
Kneeling, Liberty offered her hand to the bitch, who sat regally watching her every move. As the dog accepted her, she spread her skirts, sat cross-legged in the straw and reached for a puppy, an adventurous one that had immediately come to investigate the visitor.
‘They—they are like little puffballs. So precious. You are a clever girl, Misty. Your babies are beautiful.’
‘Would you like one for your own?’ Justin asked softly.
The question was a painful stab in her heart and Liberty stilled, the puppy wriggling and licking her hand. She couldn't.
Slowly, she looked up at her husband and shook her head. He'd been leaning against the wall watching her, but her stricken response must have shown in her eyes for he dropped a little stiffly to his knees beside her and wrapped her in his arms.
‘I thought it might help. Might replace—Jess.’
‘Nothing can replace Jess.’
‘Clearly. I'm sorry.’
‘But—Verity would love a puppy. A Yorkie terrier would be just the thing. I can see her playing with it, probably dressing it up—and teaching it to do tricks. This one I think,’ she said, reaching for the tiniest one of the litter. Pure white with a black spot round one eye, it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.
‘Perfect. Will you name her?’
‘Miss Pearl,’ Liberty said promptly. ‘Precious Miss Pearl.’
***
It was a week into February before Justin declared it time to visit Stannesford and deliver Miss Pearl to her new home. Liberty had a hard time suppressing the intense happiness she felt at going home. Justin’s feelings had come to matter and she preferred he not know how badly she still yearned for Stannesford—and Levi.
They never spoke of it, almost as if they'd come to some agreement about it. But Liberty knew it was not forgotten.
Rarely a day passed without he’d arranged some small treat for her, like introducing her to the historic treasures stored in various nooks of the old part of the house. Especially once he discovered her love for all things old.
The prie-dieu supposed to have been used by Queen Elizabeth herself when she visited the house. The portrait of the old house before the newer Georgian wing had been added, showing the original position of the marble folly that now graced the knoll above the lake in front of the house.
The collection of Earnslaw estate jewelry available for her to wear, and the emerald parure he’d ordered from London and gifted to her outright.
That last he'd asked her to wear to bed for him—with nothing else and he’d made careful, intense love to her until she cried and begged him to take her.
Something inside her broke each time he did that, but she could never stop him, or ever tell him.
In an odd way she'd come to care for Justin and presenting a facade of happiness to him had become important.
Nevertheless, she couldn't keep from watching avidly from the windows of the coach as they rolled into the village from the western end, her gaze scanning for any sign of a trainer with a string of horses behind him. They didn't pass the stables but her gaze swept down the street towards the mill as the coach turned into the great stone gateways of Stannesford Hall.
It was just as well there was no sign of him because she had no idea what she’d do if she saw him. It was almost too awful to contemplate—to see him and not be able to acknowledge him—or to acknowledge him and hurt Justin and shatter the fragile comfort they’d achieved together.
Then they were home and Verity was squealing with delight and clinging to her big sister with a tenacity only diverted by the production of a basket especially for her.
The whole family had come out into the portico to greet them but as usual Verity held center stage. Her eyes when Justin set the basket down at her feet shone like the brightest stars, and her whole body shimmered with excitement.
‘What's in it?’ she whispered, her gaze whipping between Liberty and Justin. Unable to help herself, Liberty looked up into her husband's face and their eyes met in a moment of shared delight all the more precious for its rarity. Her husband liked making people happy.
‘Open it and find out,’ Liberty told her little sister, and they both laughed softly as Verity did just that—and fell in love.
Liberty was quickly absorbed back into the flurry of her family. Mama and Nanette were anxious to ascertain she’d come to terms with the duties of a wife and chatelaine and had been greatly interested to learn of the tapestry restoration project.
Charity, Verity and Hugh had all claimed their private moments with the big sister who’d always been the receptor for their confidences. And even Papa had maneuvered to get her alone and apologize for Jess's death and to ensure she was not unbearably unhappy with the husband he’d forced upon her.
Liberty had given him the assurances he'd needed but knew, sadly, the closer relationship she’d once had with her father was forever broken. She could acknowledge the rightness and the reasoning for what he’d done, but she could never forgive him.
***
With the advent of Spring they travelled to London.
The capital was a revelation. The never-ending traffic. The s
mells pervading everything. The colorful pageant of humanity crowding the streets. The wealth of entertainment and amusements the city offered.
Justin’s desire and willingness to show her all of it.
To Liberty’s amazement, and despite her protests, their first call of business was to a modiste he insisted was the best in London, where she was outfitted fit for a princess—in ball gowns, tea gowns, walking gowns, pelisses, hats and shoes for every imaginable occasion.
Then he’d accepted invitations to those occasions and introduced her to the ton, with a pride and devotion that was humbling.
As Lady Earnslaw she was invited everywhere and though Gareth and Astoria were also in residence at Earnslaw House, Justin seemed reluctant to leave her to his daughter-in-law’s not-so-tender mercies—and Liberty owned herself grateful. She hadn't warmed to her—daughter-in-law—and that appellation was probably the core of the problem.
The woman was starkly beautiful with ebony hair and startling green eyes and several years older than Liberty.
And while Earnslaw House was Justin’s home and Gareth and Astoria’s by extension, Lady Astoria had been the virtual mistress of the establishment since her marriage.
That she was now expected to defer to Liberty clearly did not please her.
They’d been two weeks in the capital and Liberty was just starting to feel at ease, having reacquainted herself with friends who’d attended Lady Bessborough’s school in Bath.
Lady Charmaine Stapleton, newly wed to the rakishly handsome Lord Stapleton; Lady Hermione Wellbourne, betrothed to her childhood sweetheart, Lord Percy Crammond; and Miss Rosemary Ellingham, a gazetted heiress with a stated disinterest in being married at all.
It was to them Liberty turned when Justin announced his intentions to host a ball to launch his bride on the ton. That she’d be expected to host such an event was more daunting than Liberty could have imagined.
‘Mama would help,’ Charmaine said immediately. ‘In fact, she’d be delighted, I'm sure. She likes nothing better than arranging events and now I'm married she has no excuse, since Eloise has not come out yet.’
‘I doubt that would sit well with Lady Astoria,’ Rosemary said in her forthright way. ‘If you truly wish to forge some sort of comfortable relationship with her, why not ask for her advice and assistance?’
Liberty wrinkled her nose.
‘Although I have my doubts one could ever have a comfortable relationship with Astoria, you’re probably right, Rose. Ever the sage.’
‘Because sage goes with rosemary, as we know,’ Hermione slipped in with a twinkle in her blue eyes.
Rosemary shot her a quelling look and they all laughed happily together. Finding these three in London had changed her whole attitude to the Season. Liberty could admit she was beginning to enjoy herself. The only way it could be better was if Caroline was here as well.
Her mind was often concerned with how she could alleviate her dearest friend’s situation. But remaining concealed at the school in Bath was probably best for the moment. From her letters, Caroline was not desperately unhappy, but her future was sadly compromised.
Perhaps she could enlist Justin’s help, though what he could do she couldn’t imagine. Caroline's father had gambled and lost his daughter as if she were a commodity and Lord Danvers could rightly claim her as honorably owed to him—if he could find her.
***
‘That was a particularly wise move,’ Justin commented, as he escorted Liberty upstairs later that evening. ‘Inviting Astoria to assist you with the ball. I had thought to suggest it, but wasn't sure how you’d feel about it. She's not an easy person to be around. But she knows how to host a society event. And she’d make a better ally than opponent, I think.’
‘It can't be easy for her, stepping aside for me. I imagine she's been mistress of Earnslaw House since her marriage.’
‘She has. But she always understood it was an honor she held only as long as I remained unwed. That is your place now—and I expect you will grace it with aplomb once you gain a little more confidence. Don't let her intimidate you. She had to learn—and made one or two gaffes in those early days. She wasn't born perfect no matter what you might think. And there is a softer side to her hidden beneath that brittle facade she shows the world. The right approach could unearth it.’
In her rooms, Liberty sank onto the chaise and Justin settled beside her. It had become his habit of an evening, to spend a few minutes recounting the day’s events, sharing thoughts and concerns and amusing moments. He didn't often stay to share her bed.
But this evening he seemed to have some specific agenda.
‘Are you happy, Libby?’ he asked after a moment's silence.
Liberty knew it was not an idle question to be tossed off with an easy answer. He really wanted to know.
‘You’re the kindest of husband's to me, Justin, and I’ve come to understand that and deeply appreciate it. You care—about people—like my difficult father, like Astoria with her walls of glass, like me, who tried so hard to dislike you and resent you. You see the best in people, bring out the best in people. I’ve come to appreciate how very blessed I am in having you for a husband.’
He exhaled heavily, stretched out his legs, spread his arms along the back of the chaise, and let his ruminative gaze rest on her.
‘Thank you, Libby. But—are you happy?’
A lump rose in Liberty’s throat and she swallowed it back down. Hard.
She could lie for him. She could. And it wouldn't be so far from the truth. She’d found a measure of happiness in her life with this man.
‘Yes, Justin. How could I not be?’
‘I love you, beautiful girl,’ he said softly, then rose and let himself out of the room.
Liberty sat in the dim light of the one candle and wiped helplessly at the tears flowing down her face. She wasn't sure why she was crying—except her heart hurt. Her longing for Levi never abated, and the feelings of obligation to Justin continued to grow.
Whatever the outcome, Liberty began to understand, her heart would be irrevocably torn.
***
‘Does it bother you that your old husband is constantly by your side wherever you go?’
They were in the carriage on their way to the opera where they were meeting Lord Basingstoke and Lord Waltham, cronies of Justin’s from the House of Lords. Both men and their wives were probably in their fifties or older, but Liberty had found them welcoming and comfortable to be with and so Justin had fostered the friendship.
It was another of his delving questions, and Liberty knew they were borne of his uncertainty of her, his knowledge she was not his wife by choice, but more by coercion. It was obvious that played on his mind regardless how she assured him she was happy—she guessed he knew she really meant she was as happy as she could be in the circumstances.
But she could give him this.
‘Truthfully? I feel happier, more relaxed, for knowing you are somewhere around. I think you've become my anchor.’
His fingers entwined gently with hers in her lap.
‘You make me very proud,’ he said softly.
When the gentlemen left the opera box at half-time to fetch drinks, Justin’s younger son, George, knocked and entered.
Briefly acknowledging the two older ladies, he then turned to Liberty with an elaborate bow, took her hand and made a show of air kissing just above her glove.
‘My lovely Mama. Your beauty slays me.’
Liberty had long since lost patience with George's posturing.
‘If your father was here, he’d tell you not to be an ass. Since he's not at the moment, I will do it for him. Don't be an ass, George.’
‘You wound me, beautiful lady.’
‘I see no blood,’ Liberty muttered, withdrawing her hand.
Nothing daunted, George settled in the chair at her side, asking how she was enjoying the opera—and the Season.
Something about George always deeply unsettled Liberty and s
he pushed up from her seat and crossed to lean on the balcony railing and watch the crowds promenading down in the pit.
She wished Justin would return. She'd spoken true when she admitted to being happier when he was around—safer.
And that was what George made her feel—unsafe.
Dancing with any number of gentlemen of the ton presented no problem and knowing Justin lurked on the sidelines like a doughty chaperon was more reassuring than anything.
But George was different.
Unavoidable.
He was family and could come and go at Earnslaw House with impunity and often chose to do so when he knew his father was attending parliament. His attentions were marked, to Liberty anyway, and unwelcome.
But short of causing a family rift she wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation. So far he was choosing to ignore her obvious lack of encouragement.
She didn't want to cause problems for Justin by raising the issue with him. He was looking a little weary from the stringent round of entertainments he’d insisted they attend. Even she was starting to find the pace a little fraught.
Not a night went by but they were engaged for one, if not two or three, different events and Justin accompanied her to every one, often rising early to attend parliament next day.
Oddly enough, it was a family dinner that decided Liberty enough was enough—along with a letter from home.
Astoria had not attended, having elected to spend the evening at a soiree hosted by her very close friend, the Countess of Lorne. Justin and Gareth had been deep in discussion of the latest dispatches from the continent for most of the evening.
Napoleon had removed King Charles of Spain and his son, Ferdinand to Bayonne and forced them to abdicate, declaring his brother Joseph Bonaparte, to be King of Spain. Thus a new engagement, the Peninsular War, was already being talked about.