Chapter Eight #2
“Her?” A tingle ran across Julian’s scalp.
He leaned into the lantern’s halo of light and read the brief report about a wedding at St James’ Church, Piccadilly.
It told of a young bride whose father had died in the church following a violent altercation between the groom and another man who had challenged the union.
The groom, a Leopold Harvey De Witte, had then fled the scene, leaving his bride, Annabelle Edwina Fairfax, alone, unwed, and weeping beside the body of her father, Dr. Clarence Geoffrey Fairfax, a retired physician.
“Good God,” Julian muttered, and read the report a second time, his hand shaking so much he could barely make out the words. He lifted his gaze. “Is it her, do you think? Is it Annabelle?”
Josiah huffed. “How many Annabelle Fairfax’s do you know? Let’s take that further. How many Annabelle Fairfax’s do you know who was, if I recall correctly, due to be married around the same time, and whose father is also a physician? Of course, it’s her.”
“I suppose it must be.” Julian, his mind reeling, read the article yet again. “What a bloody mess. I cannot begin to imagine the anguish she must have felt. Must still be feeling. The poor girl!”
“I agree,” Josiah replied. “And you should know it was by pure chance that I happened upon the article. I never read the Herald as a rule, but it was sitting on a table in Lord Bethany’s Mayfair foyer, so I picked it up and read it while I was waiting to see him.
There are no such things as coincidences, Jules.
Things like this happen for a reason.” He jabbed a finger at the cutting.
“I was meant to read that because you were meant to know about it.”
Julian raised a brow. “Do you really believe that?”
“No, of course not, don’t be daft.” Josiah grinned. “But now you do know, so you can do something about it.”
Julian blinked. “Like what?”
“Like getting your arse back to London and calling on the lady.”
That utterly absurd notion had already barged its way into Julian’s brain, but he’d hesitated to embrace it. “No, I cannot possibly do that.”
“Why ever not?”
“Well, because…” Frowning, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Because it’s irrational, Joe. It’s folly. It’s madness.”
Josiah heaved a sigh. “What color are Annabelle’s eyes, Julian?”
Julian turned his sight inward and looked upon the face he’d committed to memory several weeks earlier, every detail still intact. “Blue,” he murmured, unable to prevent a smile from appearing. “An exquisite grayish-blue. Edged in black.”
“Point made.” Josiah clicked his tongue. “If I were you, I’d start packing right away.”
“But you’re not me, Joe.” Julian regarded the scrap of paper in his hand. “This doesn’t give me permission to go gallivanting off to London with no explanation. We have guests, in case you hadn’t noticed. I have obligations to them and to Mama and Papa.”
“Yes, of course. My apologies.” Josiah gave him a contrite smile. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have shown it to you—”
“No, it’s all right. I’m glad you did, believe me.”
Josiah tutted. “I was going to say, perhaps I shouldn’t have shown it to you till the end of the week.”
“Perhaps,” Julian replied. “But at least now I know not to rush into things. Good God, listen to me. What am I saying?”
“You’re simply confirming what I said earlier, brother.” Josiah shrugged. “Miss Viola Aitken, whilst lovely indeed, is not for you.”
“Well, I’m not going to rush into anything, either way.” He heaved a sigh. “Half-an-hour, Joe. I was with Annabelle Fairfax for half an hour. Don’t you think she’ll find it strange if I show up at her door unannounced? She might not even remember me.”
“Stop being so bloody pessimistic. This is an opportunity not to be missed. Nothing ventured, as they say. You can travel to London with me next week.” Josiah slid off the bed and brushed the creases from his trousers. “Right, I’m off to bed. See you in the morning. Sleep well.”
Julian scoffed. “At the risk of being bloody pessimistic, I doubt I’ll sleep a wink now, but thanks. And I really mean that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Josiah said, and opened the door.
A single, unrelated question drifted to the front of Julian’s chaotic mind. “Er, Joe?”
He paused on the threshold and looked back. “Mmm?”
“Just curious. What were you doing at Lord Bethany’s?”
He smiled and tapped the side of his nose. “Sorry, brother. Not at liberty to say.”
*
A week later, Lord and Lady Whickham’s carriage, with Lord, Lady and offspring safely ensconced, rumbled over Highfield’s cobbled courtyard, passed beneath the ancient gatehouse, and disappeared into the pale, morning mist. Julian, standing on the steps with his parents, waited to hear an anticipated comment from his mother.
It was his father, however, who spoke first.
“Speaking generally,” Aldous said, “I think the week went rather well.”
“I agree,” Grace replied, turning to go into the house. “They’re lovely people, and Miss Aitken is charming. I’m very pleased.”
“Is that it, Mama?” Julian frowned. “Aren’t you going to say anything else?”
“About what, dear?” she replied, pausing mid-step.
“About Miss Aitken. Specifically, my intentions toward her.”
Grace’s brows lifted. “What do you want me to say? I can tell you’re not quite decided, if that’s what you mean.”
“Best not to rush into these things.” Aldous winked. “Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I think I’ll just trot over to the stables. I want a quick word with Willis.”
“I confess I was expecting you to comment on my lack of decision, Mama,” Julian said, as he followed his mother into the house.
“Then your expectation was misplaced.” Grace headed into the Morning Room, where the aromas of breakfast still lingered.
“I personally think it’s an excellent match, but I also agree with your father—there’s no great hurry.
You’ve only just met. Now, I believe I’d like another coffee.
Will you take some? It should still be fresh. ”
“Yes, I’ll get it, Mama. Extra cream, as always, of course.” Julian headed for the sideboard. “And your lack of critique makes what I’m about to say a little easier.”
“Not sure I like the sound of that.” Grace settled onto one of the settees. “I do hope it’s not an outright dismissal of the girl’s hand, Julian. You’ll be seeing her at Myddleton in a few weeks. At least wait till then before making a final decision.”
“Miss Aitken may have already made the decision for me.” Julian handed his mother her black coffee and settled himself in an adjacent chair. “Or does she not have a say in it?”
“Yes, of course she does.” Grace took a sip of coffee and then set her cup down on the small table beside the settee. “But I suspect the young lady is already smitten and simply waiting for a proposal. So, what is it you want to say?”
Smitten? Not something Julian wanted to hear. Frowning into his coffee cup, he also took a sip and then lifted his gaze. “I’ll be leaving with Josiah in the morning, Mama.”
“Leaving?” Her brows lifted again. “You’re going to London?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“I’ve received some worrying news about a friend and would like to assure myself that all is well.”
“Oh dear. Is it anyone I know?”
“No, Mama, I’m certain it isn’t.”
“I see,” she replied, her puzzled expression implying the opposite. “Well, I hope it’s nothing too serious. How did you receive this news?”
Julian hesitated. “Josiah told me about it.”
“And you absolutely have to go to London? I mean, can this assurance not be obtained by way of correspondence?”
“No, I’m afraid it cannot. And I’d rather go in person, actually.
” Unsettled by his intentional ambiguity, Julian set his cup down, got to his feet, and wandered over to the bay window.
It overlooked the rose garden, which was currently at its peak, although it all looked rather gloomy draped in fog.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. A week at least, I should think. ”
A response came, but only after a notable stretch of silence. “Is this friend a woman?”
He couldn’t lie. “Yes.”
“Ah.” There followed a brief rustle of skirts. “A woman you care about, obviously.”
Parting with a soft sigh, he turned. “To tell the truth, Mama, I know very little of her.”
Grace frowned. “Then why are you going all the way to London for her sake?”
“Because he can’t get her out of his mind.” Josiah, looking rather like he’d slept in the clothes he was wearing, sauntered into the room, and approached the sideboard. “Is the coffee still fresh? Oh, and good morning, Mama.”
“Yes, it’s fresh,” Julian replied, “and your lack of tact is not appreciated.”
“I thought it was a fair question.” Josiah poured himself a cup. “Not keen on coffee that’s been sitting a while.”
“Not what I meant, and you know it,” Julian said, frowning.
“Am I to understand you’ve met this young lady as well, Josiah?” Grace asked.
He shook his head. “No, Mama, I have not.”
“Then, how do you know of her?”
“Because Julian told me about their meeting, and I learned about her dilemma from another source just recently.” Clasping his coffee cup, Josiah sank into a nearby chair and stifled a yawn.
“Wasn’t sure I should tell Julian about it, to be honest, but then I saw him with Miss Aitken and was left with no choice. ”
Julian groaned. “Joe, don’t.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “You don’t like Miss Aitken?”
“I think she’s absolutely delightful,” Josiah replied. “She’s just not right for Julian.”
“Please ignore him, Mama,” Julian said, taking his seat once more, “which is what I tend to do for the most part.”
Grace toyed with the pearl pendant at her throat. “Well, Julian, I confess I find all this rather confusing, but if it’s a matter of following your heart, then you have my blessing.”
Julian gave her a dubious look. “Even though you know nothing of her, Mama?”
“Nothing of her, no.” Grace’s gentle smile, so well-known to him, appeared. “But I believe I do know a thing or two about my eldest son and trust him to do what he feels he must. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.” He shrugged. “It might all be for nought, however.”
“Why do you say that?” Grace asked. “She’s not ill, is she?”
Julian shook his head. “No, not ill. She recently lost her father in a tragic way, and I simply want to make sure she’s all right, that’s all.”
“I see. Yes, I’m sure that must have been upsetting. What of her mother?”
“Her mother died many years ago.”
“Siblings?”
“None.”
“So, she’s alone.”
“Not quite. She has a maid. That is, a companion of sorts, but that is all, as far as I know.” Julian heaved a sigh.
“We met briefly in London several weeks ago and she made an impression on me. Actually, it was the day Max and Louisa returned from their holiday. And yes, though my dear brother’s remark was something of an overstatement, I have thought about the young lady many times since. There was something special about her.”
Grace nodded and glanced away briefly. “Is she the reason you’re undecided about Miss Aitken?”
Josiah snorted and Julian threw him a scowl. “No, she is not,” he replied. “At least, she was not. The loss of her father is a recent event, but there is more to this tale. With respect, however, I would rather not discuss it further. Not till I return from London.”
“Discuss what?” Aldous stepped into the room, a questioning expression on his face. “Why are you going to London? Has something happened?”
“Nothing of concern to the family, Papa,” Julian replied, his nerves beginning to fray. “I simply want to check on the well-being of a friend and would prefer to do so in person.”
“I see.” Aldous exchanged a prolonged glance with Grace, one that Julian recognized as a silent form of communication perfected through years of marriage. “So, when do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“With Josiah, I assume.”
“Yes.”
“But where will you stay? The house is closed up.”
“He can stay with me, Papa,” Josiah said. “As long as he doesn’t mind sleeping on the settee.”
“Don’t mind at all,” Julian replied.
“Well, that’s that then. I hope it all turns out for the best.” Aldous gestured to the sideboard. “Is the coffee still fresh?”
“I think it has sat long enough, Papa.” Josiah gave Julian a glance that denoted a triumph of sorts. It was not only their parents, apparently, who could communicate without uttering a word. “You might want to ring for more.”