Chapter 27
The next day, we all made sure to be out during calling hours.
Mr. Fairweather’s letter had been printed in The Times that morning.
Seeing it there, without comment or commentary, was terribly unsettling, to say the least. Poor Juliet.
She’d made a mistake going riding with Mr. Fairweather, but this was so much more humiliation than that mistake deserved.
None of us knew if she would ever be accepted in society again.
It was my belief, however, that with time, and due to the fact that Mr. Shelley’s and the Beaumonts’ names were so well established and respected, Juliet Beaumont Shelley would once again be welcomed, perhaps not by every family, but by most prominent families in London.
Several people had left their calling cards while we were away visiting the museum and then calling on Jeremy and Juliet’s cousins, Robert and Marianne Lynch.
Most of them were gossipy sorts who no doubt were trying to pick up a bit more gossip from Juliet’s own mouth after reading the Fairweather letter in the paper.
But at least Juliet wasn’t being shunned.
“Leastways,” Juliet said, throwing down the calling cards on the table, “I shall have my husband, who loves me and whom I love, my brother, and my dearest friend in the world, you, Amelia.”
“And you have your cousins, the Lynches.”
“Yes. They would never reject me. And I am not one to care overly about what other people think of me. I can go out and hold my head high, even when people are snubbing me.”
It was true. Juliet was much bolder and braver in that way than most.
Juliet’s wedding was lovely, with only Mr. Shelley and his mother and Miss Freeman, Jeremy, and their older sister, Mrs. Caroline Chalmers and her husband Mr. Chalmers.
She was an elegant lady, with a small child and a new baby being cared for by two nursemaids.
She was friendly enough, but I caught her wrinkling her nose at me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
I wasn’t sure I cared. Jeremy said he’d never been close to Caroline as he had been with Juliet.
Still, I hoped to make her like me in the future.
Juliet and Mr. Shelley were all smiles after the ceremony as we ate the obligatory marriage breakfast and shared the joy of two people who gazed at each other with such loving looks.
I glanced at Jeremy Beaumont a few times during the wedding service. Would I be marrying him in a few weeks?
If Lord Gotthurst’s mother had not objected to me, I might have been married to him by now.
It was a sobering thought. But as much as I had mourned the loss of his attention and potential of becoming my husband, I no longer felt sad about it. In fact, I said a silent prayer of thanks to God that his mother had forced him to give me up.
My first glimpse of Mosspoint stole my breath.
The home sat on a high ridge and was made of gray stone, with a lovely wooded park just west of it, a glimpse of a beautiful garden behind it, and a lovely stream in front that meandered and curved until it disappeared into the trees.
It was not as large as Mr. Shelley’s Lake District estate, but to me it was more beautiful.
What would my family think of Jeremy Beaumont? And what would he think of them? If I married him, I’d probably only see them rarely.
Until a week ago, I would have felt pangs of guilt and sadness at the thought of leaving my family, much as I had when I came to London with my aunt and uncle for the Season.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d counted on them needing and missing me.
It still stung that they hadn’t seemed to miss me much at all.
Even Diana had transferred her affections from me to Lavinia.
Would I soon be starting my own family?
We saw Juliet and Mr. Shelley off—Mr. and Mrs. Shelley now—as they set out to travel to the coast, where they would spend the night before continuing their journey in the morning. We waved to each other, and then they were gone. And then it was time for us to begin our own journey.
Jeremy had asked me if I’d like Mrs. Wilson to come along as our chaperone.
I’d thought about it but decided that I did not.
Besides, Mrs. Wilson needed to be in London to find a new position.
And I was not worried that it would open me up to gossip by traveling alone with Jeremy.
After all, we were engaged, we were in the company of servants, and the entire trip would be made in the daytime.
The only reason I considered allowing him to ask Mrs. Wilson to accompany us was the fact that I didn’t trust myself not to kiss him.
I finally brought it up to him while we were waiting for the servants to load our trunks on the carriage.
“It is a long journey, and I don’t think we should kiss.” I said this in a whisper, first checking to make sure no one was near enough to hear me. “We will be in the carriage for several hours,” I went on quickly.
“I understand.” He had a very sober look in his eyes as he gazed down at me. “We shall sit on opposite sides of the carriage. Does that suit?”
“Yes, thank you.” I tried to look regal and proper, but inside I was full of warring factions, each arguing for their own way.
One was warning me that I must follow my plan to not kiss him, now that I had told him we should not kiss, for I would lose his respect if I kissed him now.
And the other was telling me how prudish I was being, that there was no harm at all in kissing him.
Didn’t I remember how good it felt to kiss him, to be close and warm and feel his lips on mine?
It was growing quite warm in this summer heat.
Regardless, I’d told him we shouldn’t kiss, and he was a gentleman. He wouldn’t kiss me, so there was no longer any reason to debate it.
Finally, everything was loaded into the carriage, and Jeremy held my hand as I stepped into the carriage. He sat down opposite me and the carriage jolted forward.
The windows were open, and I watched the outside world pass by, the people and buildings and other carriages and horses. We made comments about the things we passed. We looked like two acquaintances calmly sharing a ride through Jeremy’s home village.
But I was thinking about what we would be doing right now if I had whispered something entirely different to him while we were waiting for the carriage.
For instance, if I had whispered, “I am in love with you, and I will marry you. I am ready to marry you tomorrow, if you have secured the license.”
Right now I could be snug in his arms, feeling his lips on mine.
Had I done the right thing in giving myself a little more time to decide?
I told myself I had. Of course it was the right thing.
If Jeremy Beaumont lost patience with me, if he became annoyed with my hesitation in marrying him, then I would see another side of him, and it could be the undoing of my good opinion of him, could it not?
I sighed. Why was I still unsure? Had I not spent a great deal more time with him than I had with Lord Gotthurst?
I barely knew him, yet I would have quickly married him if he’d asked me.
But I’d seen Jeremy react to a great many things, good and bad.
He was patient, and he could tell me he loved me even when he was unsure of my love. That should prove something.
Leastways, while refraining from physical contact, I wouldn’t have to worry about my thoughts being scrambled and scattered from his intoxicating kisses. It was surely better this way. And could I be blamed for having thoughts of moving over to his side of the carriage and kissing him?
They were only thoughts, and thoughts were not actions.
At the British Museum two days before, every artifact fascinated me and I wanted to know more.
In the carriage, we discussed Egyptian history and how it coincided with the Old Testament.
Jeremy had done some reading about that, and he told me some things he remembered.
We talked of the peoples who had inhabited England in the early years when Christianity was being introduced.
We spoke of how different life must have been then, but I was thinking how handsome Jeremy was and how kind were his expressions—except when he was angry and vowing to duel with the man who had wronged his sister.
But even when he was angry there was something admirable in his expression.
He was looking at me now. “You have such a thoughtful expression.”
“Oh, I was just . . . thinking.”
“You are very pretty when you’re thinking. But you are always beautiful.”
He thinks I’m beautiful. It made a lump form in my throat so that I had to swallow past it. “Thank you.” Should I tell him he was handsome? He surely knew he was, and I was afraid of saying too much and embarrassing myself.
When Mr. Harper had said such things to me, they never affected me as Jeremy Beaumont’s words did. I suppose I was always suspicious of Mr. Harper’s sincerity.
“Are you comfortable?”
“I am well.”
“The road can get quite rough. There are some blankets under the seat. Sometimes Juliet will take a couple of blankets to pad the bench and the side of the carriage to soften the ride.”
“Thank you.” Would he suggest that I sit beside him? That would soften the ride for both of us. Perhaps I would suggest it later.
And that was how my thoughts kept flitting back to wanting to be near him, kissing him, and letting myself be in love with him.
And yet I said nothing, made no suggestions that we sit beside each other, and refrained from leaping across the carriage and into his arms.
Halfway through our journey, we stopped at an inn to change horses and to take a small repast. When we were back in the carriage and on our way again, we were silent for a few minutes.
“You are much quieter than Juliet,” he remarked.
“Too quiet?”
“No, not too quiet. Juliet is just . . . very talkative. And loud. And she complains a lot.”