Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
T hunder clouds were gathering on the horizon. A dark sky looming over the dark woods that surrounded Ravenscourt Castle.
Horatio, now appropriately dressed, walked the stone bridge that crossed the moat, watching the water where fish broke the surface to gulp down insects. Swallows darted from nooks among the eaves of the castle’s many roofs, looping and dancing through the air. There was a tension all around him, one he recognized as the harbinger of a storm.
Names cascaded through his mind. Jane Bonel . No longer Jane Ainsworth . Married and widowed. Living in Carlisle of all places. Lord Matthew Ainsworth , conspiring to engulf Horatio in scandal and drive a wedge between him and Jane. He knew that Matthew did not like Horatio courting his sister. The two had not been friends at school, though Horatio did not regard Matthew as an enemy. He wondered where the enmity had come from. Such enmity too.
And Juliet a part of it? That was the part that stung the most, Horatio realized. The part that he did not want to believe above all. To learn that Juliet suffered delusions was alarming. That everything she had told him might be a lie. Did he believe what Lady Margaret had told him? Again, he did not want to. His heart told him that it was not true. That the marriage of convenience might blossom into something more if allowed to.
“If I am free of all these plotters and schemers, for just a little while,” he muttered to himself.
He had not spoken to Juliet for five days now. Had not written his reply to Jane’s letter either. He had intended to write that he would come to Carlisle to see her. Then, that he would not, that too much had happened for a rekindling of their friendship, let alone anything more. Then he was going to burn her letter and pretend it had never arrived, that Jane did not exist. Nothing good could come of trying to recreate the past. She would be a different person. He certainly was. Why risk the pain and heartbreak when they met and discovered that the feelings they had once shared were no more?
He couldn’t decide.
Couldn’t decide if he needed to marry Frances in order to manage the scandal. Or Juliet. Or reject both and find a new strategy.
Both Lady Margaret and her daughter remained guests at Ravenscourt, clinging to his hospitality like whelks to a rock. Several times a day he made the decision to ask them to send Juliet away. To forget the uncertainty that surrounded her and make his own life simple again. But each time, he stopped himself. Once, freezing on the threshold of Lady Margaret’s rooms, hand raised to knock at the door.
“Why can I not just send her away?” he wondered aloud, swiping at the branch that stood in his path.
A sound in the undergrowth caught his attention.
Something large, drifting amongst the bushes. Not unusual in these woods, but he would not have expected deer or foxes to venture so close to a human making as much commotion as he had been doing.
There was a further sound, that of stealthy movement away from the path on which Horatio walked. Not the kind of sound an animal made. Horatio knew he was hearing a person , sneaking in the undergrowth, spying on him.
He continued walking, tracking the sound but not looking in its direction. As he neared a large birch tree with a thick, fissured trunk, he left the path, using the tree as cover against whoever was watching him. Then, moving with the stealth of a man who knew the woods intimately, he made his way through the undergrowth, back toward the stealthy spy.
As he neared the spot where he had first caught the sound, he was rewarded with the sight of a man crouched among ferns, scanning the path that Horatio had just left. The man had thinning, greasy dark hair, and a thin, slope-shouldered frame. He was dressed in a leather jerkin and patched trousers with heavy, creased, and shabby hobnail boots. In his hands, he clutched a musket. A satchel was worn at his hip and a brace of rabbits hung from his belt. A poacher .
Horatio inched closer until he stood directly behind the man. Not a very good poacher if he hadn’t heard even the small sounds that Horatio had made as he approached.
“Can I help you, sir?” Horatio said aloud.
The man whirled, raising his musket. The barrel smacked into Horatio’s forearm and he gripped the metal, twisting as he pushed it upwards. The stock contorted in response, causing the poacher to lose his grip. Horatio heaved the weapon from his hands and lifted it over his head, pulling the trigger to discharge it. The weapon would take four or five minutes to reload and was no longer dangerous. He tossed it into the undergrowth.
The man turned to run, eyes wide, but Horatio caught the shoulder of his jerkin, hauling the scrawny fellow onto the tips of his toes.
“I believe that my man, Hall, has delivered the message to all the local inns and pubs that Ravenscourt property is off-limits to poachers?” Horatio began.
“I… I… let me go… I’m not doing no harm. Everyone knows you don’t hunt your own lands.”
“That is my prerogative. What it does not mean is that you can steal from me. Not you, nor anyone else,” Horatio grated, dragging the man with him as he strode back to the path. “If I catch you here again—and if you dare return, I certainly will—it will be the magistrates for you. Understood?”
He released the man’s jerkin, who stumbled with his own momentum—almost fell—and then straightened, looking at Horatio balefully.
“You’ve no right to deny a starving man the means to feed his family!” the man spat.
Horatio could smell the brandy on his breath even from six feet away. He saw a sheath on his hip for a long-bladed knife.
“If you have no work and no means to put food on the table, I can provide you with gainful employment. I have plenty of honest work on my estates and I am well-acquainted with all of the local farmers,” Horatio said reasonably.
The man simply spat, darting to a safe distance first. “That to your work. I have my trade and you’re stopping me practicing it!”
“If you refuse honest work, then you take the consequences of dishonest,” Horatio muttered, taking a threatening step that sent the man into a sprint.
He was instantly lost to sight amid a great crashing of foliage.
Juliet looked over her patient with a critical eye.
The wound appeared to have healed nicely and the rabbit showed no sign of favoring the injured leg. Juliet had removed the dressing and was watching it hop around the bedroom, hunting down pieces of vegetables she had requested from the kitchens. He was ready to go back to the woods and rejoin his warren family.
She smiled, satisfied with her work and the good turn she had done the innocent little creature.
Then her mind returned to her own predicament, and her smile faded. She had not seen, nor heard from Horatio for almost a week. The message that sent to Juliet was painfully clear. He was having second thoughts about her. Possibly, he would not marry her at all, perhaps choosing Frances instead. Or maybe he would reject both and banish Juliet and the Godwins from his house. Maybe he would then move to Carlisle to rekindle the flame of his love for Jane Bonel.
Juliet closed her eyes tightly against the pain that thought brought to her. It was like a rapier of ice, slicing deep into her heart. Bad enough to think of him marrying Frances. At least that would be a loveless marriage which Horatio would end once the scandal was over. But Jane Bonel, the woman he had loved until the scandal arose, that woman would capture Horatio’s heart all over again.
A knock came at the door. Juliet experienced a momentary thrill of anticipation, thinking that Horatio had decided to speak to her. Then the door opened and she heard Frances’ voice calling out. Juliet rose as her cousin entered the room.
“Cousin, I have missed you! It is very remiss of you to stay away from Mama and myself during our stay with the Duke.”
“I am sure you have both coped admirably with the loneliness,” Juliet replied.
Frances paused for a moment, unused to sarcasm from Juliet.
“And how are you getting along with the Duke?” Frances asked, seating herself on the end of Juliet’s bed.
Juliet hesitated before replying, considering her cousin’s reason for speaking. Frances would not have come to her and asked such a question without a reason.
She decided to be sincere with her cousin. Pretending to anything but the truth was a game that Frances enjoyed. Juliet would not emulate her.
“I have not seen the Duke for a number of days,” Juliet admitted.
Frances nodded somberly. “I feared as much. I have seen him. He has spent time with Mama and me, discussing the marriage that is to save His Grace from the scandal involving you. He is very keen to move things along and silence the gossips. Unfortunately, he is no longer as certain as he was that you are the best member of our family for him to unite with.”
Juliet felt a sinking feeling. She knew that it should make no difference to her. It was clear that she would not hold Horatio’s heart. In fact, she hoped not to, for she did not want him to grieve for her. Did not want Horatio, or any man, to waste away as her father had done. He had been a shadow of the man she remembered, broken by his inability to save his wife’s life. Made a husk by his hopeless quest.
She drew herself up before her cousin, lifting her chin and meeting her gaze. “Then I shall expect to hear from the Duke shortly, telling me that I should return to Wetherby,” she said.
“I expect so. Perhaps it would be best for you to slip away quietly. So as not to embarrass His Grace,” Frances offered.
She raised her hand and Juliet saw that she carried a leather purse. It clinked as she hefted it and then let it fall to the bed.
“A few pounds to help you on your way,” Frances continued. “Mama will speak to the butler of this house to request a carriage to take you to Little Hinton, and from there, you may go wherever you choose. Return to Wetherby if you wish.”
Juliet took a seat and regarded the purse silently for a long moment. “Are you so threatened by me, Frances?” she finally asked, looking her cousin in the eye.
She saw anger flare in the other woman’s face. Frances’ lips tightened into a flat line. “You do not deserve to be married to a Duke! I do. I have worked for such a match since my debut!”
“You have dedicated yourself to finding a husband,” Juliet agreed.
“As is every woman’s duty!” Frances said, hotly.
“I see my life as worth more than simply being a wife,” Juliet replied.
“Do you? The Duke told us of your illness ,” Frances scoffed. “What illness? You try and snare him through pity? Your mother had some disease, you do not. If you did, you would not be living in our house. If you must resort to such tactics to secure yourself a husband, then I am the one who feels pity for you. We told the Duke the truth of it. He knows that you conjured up that outlandish fantasy.”
Juliet stood and picked up the purse. It confirmed what she already knew. There was no hope for her and Horatio. The illness would part them if they came together. It did not matter that Aunt Margaret and Frances had conspired to bring about that parting sooner. She smiled and Frances took a step back, suddenly concerned and confused.
“Thank you, cousin. You have made my decision simpler. I confess that I was attracted to the Duke. That I actually believed that I could make our marriage of convenience into a true marriage. But you have reminded me of the reality of the situation. That dream could never come true, because, you see, I do suffer the same illness as my mother. I have hidden it from all except Edith. She knows the truth of it. Had I given in to what my heart wants, I would have doomed Horatio to the life of a widower. I did not have the strength of will to walk away. But, your actions have made that easier. I just hope that my father was right, that the illness I have inherited from my mother is not contagious.”
She gave a little forced cough at that point. Frances backed away several steps, face going pale.
“You are lying,” she stammered.
“If I were, would I be leaving the field without a fight?” Juliet said, following Frances.
“Keep back!” Frances shouted, bumping into a doorframe and giving a squeak of fright.
She turned and dashed from the room.
Juliet stopped, one hand resting on the same doorframe, head bowed. A sudden wave of exhaustion swept over her. She lowered herself into a chair beside the door, waiting for it to pass.
The purse weighed heavy in her palm. Probably enough to get her to Hemsworth Manor, a few miles west of Swindon. She knew that her friend and confidante, Nigel Crickhallow, Viscount Hemsworth, would take her in.
And from that point? She would not live on his charity forever. She would need to find her way in the world. It was a frightening prospect but a liberating one. Finally, she would be free of the Godwins. Of their casual cruelty. Of Frances’ incessant jealousy and Aunt Margaret’s domineering callousness.
She closed her eyes, trying to put the image of Horatio and Frances out of her mind. It was not her destiny. Frances was not unattractive. Horatio would be proud to have such a beautiful woman on his arm. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she angrily scrubbed them away. Now was not the time for grief. She had been given the means to leave. To leave before her emotions became more tangled with Horatio. Before more of her heart passed into his keeping.
A clean break, and he would soon forget her.
Juliet rose and went to one of the room’s wardrobes. Clothes had been sent for from Wetherby and she had several dresses hanging there. She selected one suited to the outdoors and a sensible pair of shoes.
One thing was for certain, she would not prevail upon the Duke to provide transportation. She would walk to the nearest village and then pay for a place on the next post coach heading to Swindon. Once there, she could either continue on her way to Hemsworth Manor or write to Nigel and tell him where she was.
Outside the window, dark clouds were gathering. The window rattled in its casement as a gust of wind gripped it, as though testing its strength. Juliet selected a thick, woolen cloak with a hood. A little rain would not kill her and she did not think it was so far to Little Hinton.
Finally, she picked up Archie and drew him under her cloak. He did not struggle, having learned that Juliet meant him no harm. She would release him on her way, let him run free, while she attempted to do the same.