Читать книгу The Passionate Friends - Meg Alexander - Страница 7

1802

Elizabeth Wentworth gasped in dismay. “Judith, you can’t mean it! Do you tell us that you have agreed to marry Truscott? I won’t believe you!”

A slight cough from the third member of the trio of ladies seated in the salon of the house in Mount Street checked a further outburst for the moment.

Elizabeth looked at her sister-in-law in a mute appeal for support, but Lady Wentworth refused to catch her eye.

In the twelve years since her marriage, Prudence had mellowed, learning to control her temper. Hasty words could never be recalled, however much one might regret them later.

Now, heavily pregnant with her fourth child, she struggled to sit upright on the sofa, smiling at their visitor as she did so.

“When did this happen, Judith? How you have surprised us! We had no idea…” Her voice was gentle, and the look she gave her friend was full of affection.

The effort to soften the impropriety of Elizabeth’s reaction to Judith’s news did not succeed. The younger girl jumped to her feet, and began to pace the room.

“Why did you accept him?” she cried. “Oh, Judith, he won’t make you happy. Why, the man is a charlatan, a mountebank! I know that he is all the rage at present, with his fashionable sermons, but he doesn’t believe a word of them. For all his talk of hellfire and damnation, he likes nothing better than to mix with the very society which he affects to despise.”

“Elizabeth, you go too far!” Prudence said sternly. “Pray allow Judith to speak at least one word. You might also pay her the compliment of believing that she knows her own mind.”

Elizabeth looked mutinous, but she held her tongue as she flung herself into a chair.

“Pru, don’t scold,” Judith said quietly. “I knew that this must come as a shock to both of you. After all, the Reverend Truscott has never given me reason to believe that he had noticed me…that is, until these last few weeks.”

Elizabeth tensed, and seemed about to speak, but a glance from Prudence silenced her. Each knew what the other was thinking. It was less than a month since Judith had learned of her handsome inheritance from her mother’s brother. Nothing had been expected from the elderly recluse, but he had surprised the Polite World by leaving his vast wealth to his only niece.

“I was surprised myself,” Judith continued in her gentle way. She gave her listeners a faint smile. “I am no beauty, as you know, and I don’t shine in society. I find it hard to chat to people I don’t know, and as for being witty…?” She pulled a wry face at the thought of her own shortcomings.

“Dearest Judith, you underestimate yourself,” Elizabeth exclaimed with warmth. “Confess it! You have a wicked sense of humour. Why, on occasion have we not been helpless, all three of us, when you have been telling us your tales?”

“That’s because I know you well, and I feel easy in your company. Your family has been so good to me…I still miss the Dowager Duchess dreadfully.”

“And she was fond of you.” Elizabeth returned to the attack. “What would she have said, I wonder, had she known of your decision?”

“She always wished me to marry,” Judith said mildly. “She was so happy for both her sons when they chose you and Prudence. She longed for the same joy for me.”

“That was different!” Elizabeth said firmly. “Judith, will you tell us that you have a tendre for this man?”

Judith coloured. “Perhaps not everyone can hope to be as fortunate as you were yourselves…to find the one person in the world for whom you’d give your life.”

“Then wait!” Elizabeth cried in an agony of mind. “You are still young. There must be a dozen men more suitable than Truscott. Few could be less so. You haven’t given yourself a chance.”

“I’m twenty-five, and I’ve had several Seasons. How many men have offered for me? No, don’t bother to reply. You know that I didn’t take, as the saying goes.”

“That’s because you are so quiet. You don’t give anyone a chance to know you. Dearest, we all love you. At one time we had hoped that you and Dan—”

“Elizabeth, that is quite enough!” At the mention of her adopted son, Prudence felt it wise to put an end to Elizabeth’s incautious remarks.

Six years ago she too had hoped that Judith and Dan might make a match of it. She’d welcomed the growing friendship between the two young people, so different from her own fiery relationship with Sebastian, or Elizabeth and Perry’s stormy wooing.

Judith and Dan would sit for hours, exchanging few words but evidently content in each other’s company, as Dan drew his designs for improvements to the warships of the British Fleet, and Judith put her thoughts on paper.

Only with friends could she be persuaded to read her words aloud, but they were worth waiting for. Her pithy little vignettes describing the foibles of the world about her reduced her tiny audience to tears of laughter.

Now, at the mention of Dan’s name, Judith started and turned her head. Naked emotion showed for an instant on her face, but it was quickly banished.

“How is Dan?” she asked in an even voice. Not for a second must she betray the wrenching agony of that final interview six years ago. These loving friends must never know how bitterly she regretted her decision to refuse the man she loved. They loved him too, and they would not forgive her.

“He’s home at last,” Elizabeth said with satisfaction. “He’s changed, of course—quite the elegant man about town now that he is grown so tall and broad—but beneath it all he is still the same old Dan.”

Judith felt a twinge of panic. She must not see him, especially now when she had steeled herself to wed the Reverend Truscott. That would be a refinement of torture. She rose to take her leave.

“Do stay!” Elizabeth begged. “The men will be home quite soon. Perry and Sebastian will be sorry to miss you, and you haven’t seen Dan for years—”

“Judith may have other appointments,” Prudence broke in swiftly. She was well aware of what had happened all those years ago. Had she not spent months listening to an inconsolable Dan? How she’d struggled to provide him with diversions, but nothing had served to comfort him. In the end it was Sebastian who had suggested a solution. Dan had been accepted as a chartmaker on a trip to the Antipodes. To part with the boy she’d first known as a terrified nine-year-old foundling had been a wrench, but Dan had welcomed the suggestion, and therefore she’d agreed to it.

Judith would not be swayed. She drew on her gloves with what she hoped was not unseemly haste. Then she looked down at the anxious faces of her friends.

“My dears, you must not worry about me,” she said quietly. “I am persuaded that this is for the best. I shall have my own home, and hopefully a family. That must count for something…” Her smile wavered only a very little.

Judith’s expression cut Elizabeth to the heart. She flung her arms about her friends.

“Promise me one thing,” she cried. “Don’t set your wedding date just yet! Give yourself time to consider…”

“I have considered,” Judith replied. “We are to wed in four weeks’ time…”

“Oh, no—!” Whatever Elizabeth had been about to add to this unfortunate remark was stilled as the door to the salon opened, and three gentlemen entered the room.

It was obvious at once that two of them were brothers. The family resemblance between Sebastian, Lord Wentworth, and the younger figure of Peregrine was strong. Both men were well above the middle height, and powerfully built, though Peregrine topped his brother by an inch or two. They had the same dark eyes, strong features, and a decided air of authority. Perhaps it was something in the clean lines of the jaw, or a certain firmness in the mobile lips which did not invite argument.

Now both men were smiling as they led their companion towards Judith.

“Here is an old friend come to greet you,” Peregrine announced cheerfully. “He is grown so large that I shall not wonder if you do not recognise him.”

Judith was forced to proffer a trembling hand, but she could not meet Dan’s eyes. Then the familiar head, topped with a mass of red-gold curls, bent to salute her fingertips. Dan stopped just short of pressing his lips against her skin. The gesture was all that courtesy demanded, but the touch of his hand was enough to set her senses reeling.

She drew her own away as if she had been stung, but Dan did not appear to notice.

“I hope I find you well, Miss Aveton,” he said with cool formality.

Elizabeth looked startled. “Great heavens, Dan, what is this? You are grown mighty high in the instep since you lived among the aborigines. This is our own dear Judith. Have you forgot?”

“I have forgotten nothing.” He laid no stress upon his words, but Judith understood. The wound had gone too deep. She would not be given an opportunity to explain, and perhaps it was better not to try. They must go their separate ways, though the thought of her own future filled her with despair.

Later she could not remember how she got herself out of the room and into her carriage. She had some vague recollections of promising another visit, but her head was spinning. It was all she could do to take her leave with an exchange of mechanical civilities, struggling for self-control until she could be alone.

As the door closed behind her, Peregrine looked at his wife.

“Well, my love, had you not best tell us all about it? I know that look of old. Something has happened to distress you—”

“Judith is going to be wed,” Elizabeth said flatly.

Sebastian smiled at her. “That, surely, is a matter for congratulation, is it not?”

“No, it isn’t!” Elizabeth cried. “Oh, Perry, you won’t believe it! She is to marry that awful creature, the Reverend Truscott.”

“My darling, I hope that you did not tell her of your views. It must have been her own decision, and hardly your concern.”

“It is my concern. Judith is my friend. I can’t bear to see her throw herself away on that…that snake!”

“These are strong words, Elizabeth.” Sebastian’s smile had vanished. “The man is a well-known preacher. Why have you taken him in such dislike?”

Elizabeth glanced at her husband, and knew that she must speak with caution. Perry’s temper was as hasty as her own. She must not mention the leering looks with which the preacher always greeted her, the silky murmurings in her ear with offers to counsel her alone, or the fact that the Reverend Truscott always held her hand for much longer than courtesy demanded.

“I don’t quite know,” she murmured. “I find him sinister. There is something of the night about him.”

“It must be your imagination, dearest.” Perry took Elizabeth’s hand. “I suspect that you have no wish to lose your friend to anyone.”

Sebastian looked at Prudence. “You are very quiet, my love. Have you no opinions on this matter?”

Prudence was struggling with her own emotions. She knew Dan’s heart almost as well as she knew her own.

Dan had stiffened for just a moment at Elizabeth’s news, but when she forced herself to glance at him his expression was carefully neutral.

“Judith’s announcement came as a shock to us,” she said lightly. “We had no idea, you see, that Mr Truscott thought of Judith, or she of him. He gave no indication of any special attachment to her.”

“Until she became an heiress,” Elizabeth cried fiercely. “Can you be in any doubt of the reason for this sudden offer?”

“My darling, that is unfair,” Perry protested at once. “We all love Judith for her special qualities. I wonder only that she had not wed before.”

It was at this point that Dan excused himself, with a muttered explanation of a forgotten engagement. He had grown so pale that the freckles stood out sharply against his fair skin, and there was a strange, lost look in his blue eyes.

“Everyone is behaving so strangely today,” Elizabeth complained. “What ails Dan? Have I said something to upset him?”

“Perhaps he doesn’t care to listen to gossip,” Prudence soothed. “He is still out of things as yet. He doesn’t know the people of whom we speak.”

“He knows Judith. I should have thought that he’d like to know about the man whom she is to wed. Oh, Prudence, now that he is back, do you think that she will change her mind?”

“I doubt it. She seemed quite determined.”

“Then something must have happened to persuade her. I’d lay odds that her frightful stepmother is behind all this. That woman should have been drowned at birth!”

Prudence felt unable to argue. She was well aware that it was Mrs Aveton’s violet opposition to Dan’s suit which had caused so much unhappiness between the two young lovers all those years ago. The woman had conducted a campaign of hate, telling all her acquaintances that Dan was naught but a penniless foundling, sprung from who knew what vile slum in the industrial north of England.

Her venomous tongue had done its work. Dan had been cut dead by certain members of the ton on more than one occasion. His friendships fell away, and Prudence had been surprised to find that he was no longer included in the invitations which reached her daily.

She had made it her business to find out why, and when she had discovered the truth she confronted Mrs Aveton. It had been an unpleasant interview, with protestations of innocence on the lady’s part, and Prudence in such a towering rage that Mrs Aveton was forced to retract her slanderous remarks.

By then the damage was done, and Judith could bear it no longer. Though it broke her heart to do so, she had sent Dan away, vowing as she did so that no other man for whom she felt the least affection would be subjected to such inhuman treatment.

Dan had fought her decision with everything in his power, but she would not be swayed. His honour and his good name were at stake.

She placed no reliance on Mrs Aveton’s promise not to return to the attack. Her stepmother’s machinations might become more subtle, but they would not cease.

Now, as Judith was borne back to the house which she shared with her two half sisters and their mother, she regretted the impulse which had taken her to Mount Street that day. Prudence and Elizabeth had been shocked by the news of her betrothal. That much was clear. How could she explain the reasons which had led to her decision?

The news of her inheritance had caused uproar within the Aveton family, though the money was to be held in trust for her unless she married. True, she might use the income from it as she wished, but she might not touch the capital.

Mrs Aveton had spared no pains to discover if it was possible to break the terms of the old man’s will. When Judith’s lawyers explained that this could not be done, the girl had been subjected to a series of merciless attacks. They had continued until Judith began to fear for her own sanity.

There was nothing she could do. A woman of her age might not set up her own establishment, even had she the means to do so. The constant quarrelling caused her to retreat even further into her shell. Until today she believed that she’d succeeded in crushing her emotions to the point where nothing mattered any more.

Yet it wasn’t entirely out of desperation that she’d accepted the Reverend Truscott’s offer for her hand. She’d been moved by his kindly interest in her, and the way he took her part against her stepmother.

Mrs Aveton had seemed a little afraid of him. Certainly the preacher’s tall cadaverous figure was imposing. Dressed always in funereal black, when he thundered forth his exhortations from the pulpit the deep-set eyes held all the fire of a fanatic.

Yet, to Judith’s surprise, Mrs Aveton had welcomed his suit. Perhaps she welcomed the opportunity to be rid of a girl who was a constant irritation to her.

Judith walked across the hall, intending to seek the sanctuary of her own room. Her thoughts were in turmoil. The sight of Dan had brought the agony of her loss flooding back again. She had deceived herself into thinking that she had succeeded in forgetting him. Her present pain was as raw as it had been six years ago.

A footman stopped her before she reached the staircase.

“Madam has asked to see you, miss, as soon as you returned.”

With lagging steps, Judith entered the salon, to find Mrs Aveton at her writing desk.

“There you are at last.” There was no note of welcome in her stepmother’s voice. “Selfish as always! Had you no thought of helping me to write these invitations?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Had you mentioned it, I would have stayed behind.” Judith glanced at the pile of cards. “So many? I thought we had agreed upon a quiet wedding.”

“Nonsense! The Reverend Truscott is a man of note. His marriage cannot be seen as some hole-and-corner affair. It is to take place in his own church, and he tells me that you are to be married by the bishop.”

“He called today?”

“He did, and he was not best pleased to miss you. One might have thought that you would wait for him. What an oddity you are, to be sure! You take no interest in arrangements for the reception, the food, the musicians, or even in your trousseau.”

“I shall need very little,” Judith told her quietly. “Ma’am, who is to pay for all this? I would not put you to so much expense.”

An unbecoming flush stained Mrs Aveton’s cheeks. “The expense must fall upon the bride and her family, naturally. When you are wed, your husband will control your fortune. The creditors will wait until then.”

“I see.” Judith realised that she herself was to pay. “Shall I finish the invitations for you?”

“You may continue. Dear me, there is so much to do. My girls, at least, are pleased with their new gowns.”

Judith was silent, glancing down at the list of names upon the bureau. An exclamation escaped her lips.

“Well, what is it now?” her stepmother cried impatiently.

“The Wentworths, ma’am? Lady Wentworth is with child. She won’t be able to accept.”

“I know that well enough. It need not prevent us sending her an invitation. I detest the woman, and that uppish sister-in-law of hers, but we must not be lacking in our attentions to Lord Wentworth and his family. I have included the Earl and Countess of Brandon, of course. My dear Amelia will be certain to attend.” With this pronouncement she swept from the room.

As Judith walked upstairs she permitted herself a wry smile, knowing full well that Amelia, Countess of Brandon, would be furious to hear herself described in such familiar terms. Mrs Aveton was her toady, tolerated only for her well-known propensity for gossip.

Judith sighed. She liked the Earl of Brandon. As head of the Wentworth family and a highly placed member of the Government she knew him only slightly, but he had always treated her with courtesy and kindness. His wife was a cross which he bore with fortitude.

She removed her coat and bonnet and then returned to the salon. There she sat dreaming for some time, the pile of invitations forgotten. Her life might have been so different had she and Dan been allowed to wed. Now it was all too late.

“Great heavens, Judith! You have not got on at all.”

The door opened to admit the Reverend Charles Truscott, with Mrs Aveton by his side.

“Now, ma’am, you shall not scold my little bride. If I forgive her, I am sure that you may do so too.” The preacher rested a benevolent hand upon Judith’s hair, as if in blessing.

It was all she could do not to jerk her head away. She rose to her feet and turned to face him, but she could not summon up a smile.

“So grave, my love? Well, it is to be expected. Marriage is a serious step, but given to us by the Lord especially for the procreation of children. Better to marry than to burn, as the saying goes.”

Judith had the odd impression that he was almost licking his lips. Revulsion overwhelmed her. How could she let him touch her? Her flesh crawled at the thought. For an instant she was tempted to cry out that it had all been a mistake, that she had changed her mind and no longer wished to wed him, but he and Mrs Aveton had moved away. Now they were deep in conversation by the window. She could not hear what they were saying.

“The arrangement stands?” Mrs Aveton asked in a low voice.

“I gave you my word, dear lady. When the money is in my hands, you will receive your share.” The preacher glanced across at his bride-to-be. “I shall earn mine, I think. Your stepdaughter is the oddest creature. Half the time I have no idea what she is thinking.”

“That need not concern you, sir. Give her enough children, and you will keep her occupied, but you must bear down hard upon her radical notions. She likes to read, and she even writes a little, I believe.”

“Both most unsuitable occupations for a woman, but she will be taught to forget that nonsense.”

The Reverend Truscott glanced at his betrothed. There was much else that he would teach her. Judith was no beauty. The brown hair, grave grey eyes, and delicate colouring were not to his taste at all, but her figure was spectacular. Tall and slender, he guessed that his hands would span her waist, but the swelling hips and splendid bosom promised untold pleasures.

His eyes kindled at the thought, but the prospect of controlling her inheritance gave him even greater joy. He banished his lascivious expression and looked down at the list of guests upon the bureau, noticing at once that there were no ticks against the names of the Wentworth family.

“My dear child, you must not forget to invite your friends,” he chided. “I know how much you think of them, and I must learn to know them better.”

“I could well do without the ladies of the family,” Mrs Aveton snapped. “Lady Wentworth is mighty free with her opinions, and as for the Honourable Mrs Peregrine Wentworth…? Words fail me!”

“A little…er…sprightly, perhaps? The privilege of rank, dear lady. After all, we must speak with charity of our fellow-creatures. And, you are friendly with the Countess of Brandon, are you not?”

“She thinks no better of them than I do myself…”

Judith made an unsuccessful attempt to hide her amusement. The animosity was mutual.

“There now, we have made our dear Judith smile at last! Believe me, my love, your friends will always be welcome at our home.”

Judith gave him a grateful look. Perhaps he would be kind. It was fortunate that she could not read his mind. The Reverend Truscott knew an enemy when he met one, and Prudence, Lady Wentworth, had left him in no doubt of her own opinion.

He’d seen her look of disgust as he moved about among his congregation, fawning on the women, and flattering the men. She had surprised him once, when he’d cornered one of his young parishioners beside the vestry. He’d gone too far on that occasion, and the girl was looking distressed.

Her ladyship had not addressed him, but her dagger-glance was enough to persuade him to hurry away, leaving the girl to rearrange her bodice as best she could.

Mrs Peregrine was quite another matter. She was a beauty, that one, and he’d sensed the fire beneath the Madonna-like appearance. She hated and despised him. That much was clear. He could not mistake the expression in her huge, dark eyes, but her dislike only served to whet his appetite. He’d conquered such women before, with his talk of love and salvation. It would be a pleasure to add her to his list of victims.

Looking up, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, and felt his usual sense of satisfaction. His looks were the only thing for which he had to thank his actress mother and his unknown father.

Was he growing too gaunt? He thought not. His tall, spare figure and the dark head with the deep-set eyes and narrow jaw had just a touch of the fanatic. It was no bad thing. A certain air of the vulpine had served him well in his chosen profession. Who could resist him when he thundered forth his message from the pulpit?

He sensed that Judith was watching him.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he said easily. “I should not have come to you looking as I do. My duties with parishioners have kept me out all day. You must think me sadly dishevelled, but I could not resist the temptation to call upon you.”

“Judith thinks nothing of the kind,” Mrs Aveton interposed. “It is good of you to call again, when this foolish girl was not here to greet you earlier in the day.”

“Perhaps she believes that absence makes the heart grow fonder,” the preacher chuckled. With many protestations of devotion he took his leave of them.

“You had best get on with the invitations, Judith. There is little time to spare before your marriage, and I suppose we must do something about your trousseau. Tomorrow we had best go into Bond Street.”

Judith nodded her agreement.

However, on the following day, her stepmother lost all patience with her lack of interest in the garments offered for her inspection.

“Do pay attention!” she cried sharply. “Nothing will make you into a beauty, but you owe it to your husband to appear respectable.”

“Miss has a perfect figure,” the modiste encouraged. “She would look well in any of these wedding gowns.”

“Hold your tongue!” Mrs Aveton glared at her. Her own daughters were both short and dumpy. “I will decide upon a suitable garment.” She settled upon a dull lavender which did nothing for Judith’s colouring.

“This will do! And now I have the headache, thanks to your stupidity. The rest of your things you may choose for yourself whenever you wish. I have no time to accompany you again.”

Judith said nothing, though she felt relieved. The excuse to complete her shopping alone would get her out of the house, and away from the constant carping and criticism. She must take her maid, of course, but the girl was her only friend within the household, and she understood her quiet mistress well.

This fact had not escaped Mrs Averton’s notice. She had already spoken to the Reverend Truscott on the subject.

On the following day she confronted Judith.

“You are grown too familiar with that girl,” she said. “You had best make it clear that she should be looking for another position after you are married. Your husband will not care to find you being friendly with a servant.”

“I had hoped to take her with me. She is the daughter of my father’s housekeeper, and I’ve known her all my life.”

“Your father has been dead these many years. I should have dismissed her long ago.”

A lump came into Judith’s throat, but she did not argue further. Her husband-to-be might view the girl more kindly.

Mrs Aveton glanced through the window. “It may be coming on to rain,” she said. “I shall need the carriage myself this morning. You may walk to Bond Street. There is plenty of shelter on the way.”

Judith didn’t care if it poured. She could use a shower as an excuse to stay out for as long as possible. She left the house as quickly as possible, and walked along the street with Bessie beside her.

“Miss Judith, it’s spitting already. You’ll get drenched. Must you go out today?”

“I think so, Bessie. Have you got the list?”

“It’s in my pocket, miss, but it’s coming on heavier than ever. Won’t you step into this doorway?”

The wind was already sweeping the rain into their faces, and both girls ran for shelter. Half-blinded by the shower, Judith did not notice the hackney carriage until it stopped beside them. Then a strong hand gripped her elbow.

“Get in!” Dan said. “I want to talk to you.”