Читать книгу The Regency Season Collection: Part One - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 77
ОглавлениеThere did not seem to be any words, none Julia could say without bursting, ridiculously, into tears. What was the matter with her? Her fears over their marriage? Her state of physical frustration or Will’s sudden wild generosity? Julia laid her hand over his and squeezed and then, ignoring their audience, bent from the saddle and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I shall call him Angelo.’
‘A Spanish angel? I hope he proves to be so.’ Will grinned at her.
Emboldened, Julia murmured, ‘Not many men would give their wives a stallion.’
‘Perhaps they do not feel very secure about certain things and feel they have something to prove,’ he suggested. ‘I intend continuing to ride Ajax.’ That was his raking thoroughbred gelding. ‘I may be flattering myself, but I do not feel that puts my masculinity at question.’ The look in his eyes was decidedly wicked.
Julia felt herself growing warm. ‘I have missed you,’ she whispered.
‘We need to talk.’ His eyes said that he meant with more than words. ‘Why not try him in the paddock and then we’ll see them all settled in?’
Mr Bevis was right, the powerful stallion had perfect manners and a soft mouth. He curvetted slightly, showing off, as he went past the mares, but answered her hands on the reins and walked past into the paddock.
‘You are not to flirt,’ Julia scolded and he put one ear back, listening politely. They circled at the walk, then the trot, Julia rising in the saddle as a man would, enjoying the stretch in her leg muscles, wondering if she was shocking Will and rather hoping that she was. When she settled into the saddle and pressed with her heels Angelo went into a perfect canter and then back to the walk as she reached the gate again.
‘He is superb,’ she called and reluctantly turned back into the yard.
The sun was warm and Julia went to sit on the mounting block, her elbows on her knees, and watched the men taking the horses to their appointed boxes. Everything was a controlled bustle, the sound of hooves on the stone setts, men giving orders, stable boys running back and forth, and yet she felt filled with the kind of peace she had experienced after she had recovered from the loss of the baby. In those months before Will returned she had come to feel she belonged here, that she was in control and understood what she was doing.
And then she saw Will walking towards her. He was hatless, his coat hooked on one finger over his shoulder, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He looked big, physical, intelligent, this man she was married to, had made love with, hardly knew.
‘A penny for them. In fact...’ Will put one foot on the bottom step and regarded her, head to one side ‘...I may offer two pence, your thoughts seem so deep.’
‘I was thinking that I feel as I did just before you came back,’ Julia said without calculation. ‘As though I belonged here.’
‘And when I came back, you no longer did.’
‘Yes. That is exactly how I felt.’ She had said it now, the hurtful, tactless thing. It was out in the open and they could no longer pretend that everything was just fine.
A shadow passed over Will’s face. He would turn away now, deal with this in a civilised manner by ignoring it as usual. The loneliness and regret washed through her like the winter sea.
Will stood very still, studying her face, then, to Julia’s surprise, came and sat next to her, hip against hip. ‘We have not talked, have we?’ It was a statement and he sounded reflective, not angry or hurt. Julia shook her head. ‘There were the really big things,’ Will continued. ‘We talked a little about those, of course. The baby, Caroline. We could hardly avoid those subjects, although there is much more that could be said.’
‘And we spoke of your love for this place and your parents. As you say, the big things, the difficult things, but not the small things,’ Julia agreed. There was no tension. It seemed natural to lean against his shoulder as they sat there. ‘I do not know how much housekeeping money I have, or pin money. We simply fell into some kind of division of responsibilities. You were surprised by the timing of...my cycle. We have been married for three years and yet we know nothing about each other. What are your political opinions? What is your favourite meal? Do you read novels or are the ones in your library there because you buy all the latest books?’
‘I did not know how to open negotiations again,’ Will said, surprising a laugh from her. ‘I made such a mull of things with Caroline and Henry. I knew I must have hurt you, if only by my sheer clumsiness. And then I could not come to your bed and somehow I did not like to simply make assumptions and walk in after I thought the timing would be right. Perhaps it was a good thing or I suspect I would have tried to make up by making love and we would have talked even less.’
That was true. Lovemaking was something they could use to avoid confrontation as much as to give and take pleasure. ‘You know who you are, don’t you?’ Julia asked. ‘You know you belong here, you are so secure in being a man that you can give me a stallion to ride while you keep your gelding, you can admit when you are wrong and try to solve things by talking.’
‘Are you implying that I am perfect?’ She shot him a sideways glance from narrowed eyes and saw his mouth was curling into a smile.
‘Not at all. You had not given a thought to what you were going to do about me when you came home.’ She realised something as she studied his profile, the sensitive, mobile mouth and the stubborn chin. ‘You thought that because I love this place, too, there must be a power struggle over it. But that’s idio—I mean, there is no need for that. It is yours, I would just like to share it. And you do that typically male thing of ignoring uncomfortable things until they are pushed under your nose.’
‘Ah. An idiot and a typical male?’ He was still smiling. ‘Do you think we can make this work, Julia? If you can overlook my idiocy and kick me when I’m ignoring things?’
‘I can do that. But a marriage takes two people. What are my faults that must be addressed?’ She was certain he would have a list as long as her arm. Julia braced herself.
‘I want you to be honest with me.’
The cold grabbed her stomach as though she had swallowed a lump of ice. She had not expected that. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t hide things and bottle them up because they are difficult to talk about.’
‘You think I do that? I cannot break Henry’s confidence, you know that.’ I cannot tell you about the weight on my conscience, the dreadful thing I have done. Julia got down from the mounting block, the urge to twine her arm into his and lay her head on his shoulder vanishing. ‘I am starving. Shall we have an early luncheon? You had no breakfast.’
Will fell into step beside her as she walked towards the house. ‘Yes. I would like to eat and, yes, I do think you hide things from me. I don’t mean my cousin’s secrets. You were terrified of what I would do when I discovered where little Alexander was resting. You didn’t tell me that your lover was such a selfish lout. No wonder you were reluctant to come to my bed if your previous experience had been so bad.’ She must have gasped because he added, ‘You didn’t need to tell me about it, I could see that from your reactions. But I would rather have known so I could have been more...sensitive.’
Julia found she was speechless. Will opened the front door for her. ‘Gatcombe, we’ll take an early luncheon if Cook can manage it.’ When they reached the landing Will drew her into his chamber and closed the door. ‘I am just a man and sometimes we need things holding up in front of our faces. Will you promise to tell me when you are unhappy, when things worry you? Don’t have secrets from me, Julia, not about the things that will hurt this marriage.’
‘Oh, Will.’ She stood on tiptoe and curled her arms around his neck. His honesty, his willingness to admit his own faults, touched her. As their lips met she whispered, without thinking, ‘No secrets, I promise.’
Will reached out and turned the key in the door, then simply walked backwards, still kissing, so she followed him until they tipped back on to the bed. ‘At the risk of making Cook irritable, I think we should seal our new resolutions, don’t you?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Julia rolled on to her back and lay looking up at him. New resolutions, a new beginning. And then as he sat up to work out the complexities of the closures of her divided skirt, the cold realisation gripped her again. I promised, but—Jonathan. I cannot tell him about what I did to Jonathan. If she told Will, even if he could accept why she had done it, that it was an accident, it would make him an accessory after the fact. His choice would be to become as guilty in law as she was or to hand her over to the magistrates.
And I have promised to be open with him. Yet there was nothing to be done but break that promise and keep her secret, or hand herself in or run away and disappear. Naked in Will’s arms, Julia acknowledged that she did not have the courage to confess and take the consequences and she could not bear to leave King’s Acre. Or Will.
Her body rose to his, cradled him, her arms and legs curling around him as though they were one and she would not let him go. As he sank into her and she felt him inside, as she gripped him with those internal muscles that made him groan as he stroked, tormenting himself as much as her, she knew she did not have the strength to do anything but stay. And lie to him.
* * *
‘Do you mind if we go to London in a couple of days?’ Will looked up from a large and imposing letter. It crackled expensively as he spread it out on the cloth amongst the breakfast things. ‘My lawyer wants me to sign papers and I need to discuss investments with my banker, Jervis tells me that my shirts are a disgrace and he is ashamed to be known as my valet and I need new boots.’
‘It sounds as though you hardly require me.’ Julia sorted through her own post. Household bills, a letter from a friend in the next village, a note from the vicarage about the Sunday School, an account from an Aylesbury milliner. ‘You will be far too busy on your own account.’ The county newspaper was at the bottom of the pile and she turned to the inside page and the local news.
‘You need a complete new wardrobe—stop putting it off,’ Will said. ‘I promised myself the fun of taking you shopping and you are not going to wriggle out of it, my lady.’
‘But it is August. Nothing will be happening.’
‘We can go back in the winter for parties and the theatre. But now it will be quiet and we can explore. You do not know London, do you?’
‘No. Not at all.’ Julia smiled at him. He was obviously set on going and looking forward to treating her. It was cowardly, and churlish, to refuse. ‘Of course I will come with you: I will enjoy it.’ She ran her eye down the columns of tightly packed type, skimming the stories. An unseasonable storm of hailstones had flattened just one field of hay at Thame. A small boy had been saved from drowning in a village pond. A calf with two heads had been born at a local farm and was being exhibited for a penny and a woman who had killed her husband had been hanged outside Aylesbury town hall and her body given to the surgeons to be dissected.
The room seemed to be full of buzzing, as though a swarm of bees had filled it. The print blurred before her eyes and Julia realised she felt hot and then cold and sickeningly dizzy.
She gripped the edge of the table as Will said, ‘Good. We’ll stay at Grillon’s in Albemarle Street and look for a house to hire for the Season while we’re up there. Is the day after tomorrow all right for you? I’ll send to the hotel today.’
‘Lovely,’ Julia managed as she closed the newspaper and folded it with trembling hands. A woman hanged. Was that where they would hang her if they caught her? In front of the town hall before a mob jeering and shouting and making a holiday of it?
‘Julia? Is anything wrong? You have gone quite pale.’ Will was half out of his seat. She waved him back to it and, from somewhere, found a smile.
I killed a man. For one terrified moment she thought she had said it out loud. ‘Just the most alarming bill from a milliner! What a good thing we have not yet discussed allowances or I am sure I would be asking for an advance already.’
Will chuckled and sat down again. The room stopped swaying. She made herself open her clenched hand. Her mouth was dry, she felt sick with dread and the temptation to tell him was almost overwhelming. But she could not put him in that terrible position. Julia forced herself to calm. It was just the shock of seeing that gruesome report and the way her conscience was troubling her for breaking her promise to Will. She was in no more, or less, danger than she had ever been.
‘I must spend the morning on my accounts,’ she managed.
‘Mmm?’ Will glanced up from his post. ‘Don’t forget to tell Nancy to start packing.’
‘No. Of course not.’ It will be all right. I have nothing to fear after all this time. Forget it and it will just become a bad dream.
* * *
‘You are very pensive, Julia.’ Will took her hand as the chaise pulled up at the King’s Arms in Berkhamsted for the first change of horses.
He had been as good as his word, those few days since their conversation in the stable yard. They had talked—or rather Will had talked and she had forced herself to respond. The housekeeping was agreed, her generous allowance settled. They discussed who would do what with the estate and what Will felt comfortable with letting out of his control.
If she was only able to sleep without nightmares, Julia knew she would be happy. It was as if she had cursed herself with that resolution to make those dreadful memories only dreams. Now her nights were made hideous by images of blood. Never of Jonathan, but always of blood. On her hands, on her body, curling like seaweed into the water in the wash bowl.
She leaned against Will’s wonderfully solid and reassuring shoulder. ‘I am just a little tired with all the preparations.’
‘And I have been keeping you awake at night,’ he teased.
Julia felt herself blushing. Even with the fear gnawing at the back of her mind of what would follow when she slept, their lovemaking was perfect. At least, it seemed so to her. Drowsing in his arms, her body limp and replete, she felt so safe that just for a while she could believe nothing could hurt her. But in the cold light of dawn she knew even Will’s strength and courage could not protect her from the terrors in her own mind.
‘It would have been a saving to have taken the carriage instead of two chaises,’ she said repressively. Across the yard the other vehicle with Nancy and Jervis had just drawn up.
‘I wanted to be alone with you,’ Will said.
‘In the chaise!’
‘What a very wicked mind you have, Lady Dereham.’ He chuckled and dipped his head to give her a fleeting kiss on the lips. ‘I meant so we could talk. There is something I wanted to know and a journey means we can be uninterrupted. You have been remarkably quiet about your life before we met by the lake.’
It was so apposite to her thoughts that his remark almost struck her dumb. ‘What...what do you want to know?’
‘What your home was like, the estate. Tell me about your parents. Did you have a dog, a pony?’
‘Oh.’ The relief was physical and air rushed back into her lungs. ‘You want to know about my childhood.’
‘I was not intending to interrogate you about your lover,’ Will said drily as the chaise left the yard and turned eastwards.
‘Thank you, although I do not mind speaking of him...a little.’ She did not want to leave Will with the impression that she had anything to hide from him. ‘He was a mistake. A terrible mistake.’
‘What is his name?’
‘He was...is...called Jonathan.’ She remembered how Will had not believed her story when he had first come home. Suddenly it was important to tell him as much of the truth as possible. ‘When you first found out about him, you did not believe that I had only been with him a short while—a day and not quite a night. But that was honestly how it was. Before I ran away he had always treated me with respect, courted me with propriety. I truly thought we were eloping, I believed he would take me to Scotland and marry me. We lay together only the once.’
‘I know.’ His voice was firm and definite.
‘How can you know? Or are you simply trusting me?’
‘I would trust you, of course I would.’ Was he trying to convince himself as much as her? She could sense a slight reservation. ‘I know you now, Julia. Before, when I was so disbelieving, it was simply the shock of coming home, of being alive, of hearing about the baby. I was not thinking straight. But when I made love with you, I realised. It was all very new to you, was it not?’ She bit her lip and stared out of the window and tried not to remember. ‘It was not simply that he was too selfish to make it good, it was all unfamiliar because you were so inexperienced.’ She nodded.
‘Then we can forget him. Pretend he doesn’t exist,’ Will said. ‘That’s all behind you now unless there is anything it would help to talk about?’
‘Yes, I can try to do that,’ Julia said. Pretend he doesn’t exist. That is easy, he doesn’t, because I killed him. He was a wicked man, but he did not deserve to die for it. ‘But I cannot promise that his ghost is not going to haunt me sometimes.’ Every night.
‘It will have to get past me,’ Will said. ‘Now, forget him and the past. I’ll not stir that up again. Can you read in the chaise without getting sick? Because my London agent has sent me details of a number of eligible houses he thinks would be suitable to rent for the Season. See what you think.’
‘How exciting.’ Julia took the portfolio he handed her and infused her voice with as much enthusiasm as she could. Will was looking forward to London, to the London Season in the new year, to the sort of married life a man of his station should expect. And she could bring it crashing down around his head at any moment if she did not have the courage to keep her mouth shut and the intelligence to hide the truth. Whatever happened, she must make his happiness last as long as she could, she owed it to him.
‘My goodness.’ She riffled through the stack of papers. ‘The addresses all sound very grand. I like the sound of this one.’
He took the paper. ‘Half Moon Street? Why? It might be a trifle small, I thought.’
‘I like the name.’
As she guessed it would, that made him laugh. ‘Julia, you are a delight of a wife.’
And she laughed, too, as her conscience tore at her.
* * *
It was only half an hour later as she laid the stack of house particulars on one side that Will’s actual words came back to her. A delight of a wife. Did he truly mean that? She watched him as he studied the work he had brought with him, his dark head bent over the papers, his face remote and intelligent as he studied the pages. She had wanted him to want her as his wife, to build a relationship with him. Certainly things were good in the bedchamber and harmonious in everyday matters. She believed he would be faithful. That was all she had hoped for, surely, so why did her heart beat faster at his affectionate teasing? Did she want him to fall in love with her?
Julia stared out of the carriage window at the passing landscape. Do I? Am I in love with him? She was not certain what that meant any more. She had thought herself in love with Jonathan, so much in love that she would trust her entire future to him, and yet that feeling had evaporated the moment she realised his deception.
And what she felt for Will was nothing like that light-headed, romantic dreamy feeling. She liked him, she respected him and she desired him, but she was no longer so naïve that she thought a woman must be in love in order to ache for a man to lie with her. She felt for Will, in short, all those things that a woman making a marriage of convenience would hope that she would come to feel for her husband.
But it was not love. That was just a romantic dream and a sure way to a broken heart, Julia decided. And why should she want to be in love with her husband in any case? If she was fortunate, there would be children who would be healthy and strong and she would experience all the love she could want with them. Julia closed her eyes for a moment in silent supplication that if she was fortunate enough to become pregnant again then all would be well this time.
But even so, when Will looked up and caught her studying him, and his eyes crinkled with amused affection, her heart made that foolish little leap again. ‘Your hair needs cutting,’ she said prosaically. ‘You must add that to the list of things to do in town.’
