Chapter 23
The chaise was considerably less comfortable than the floor had been at the inn on their way to Southampton. Julian shifted and turned.
His eyes found Clara, peacefully asleep.
He could see her shape beneath the blankets, could hear her breathe.
Part of him wanted to get up, cross the room, and get into the bed.
Not because he was uncomfortable but because he wanted to be closer to her.
Her presence drew him in a way he was most uncomfortable with because he knew very well that it ought not to.
But it did not feel wrong. Being around her felt, in truth, very right. He wanted with every fiber to be near her, to hold her, but such thoughts were the province of fools.
He was not going to fall victim to his own impulses. He had done so before, and it had brought him nothing but misery.
He turned once more and looked into the fire; the flames had shrunk down to almost nothing.
He closed his eyes and was very nearly asleep when a scream came from somewhere outside. A woman’s voice. He sat up immediately and pulled his pantaloons over his drawers.
“Let go of me; let go of me.”
He recognized it then. Marianne.
“What is it?” Clara swung her legs out of bed.
He grabbed a candleholder, lit it from what remained of the fire, and held it out to her.
“I do not know, but I will see to it.”
“Is that Marianne?” She was already on her feet, the fabric of her nightgown swaying as she hurried to his side. She looked almost ethereal in the candlelight, her hair loose around her shoulders, her expression alert.
The voice came again, followed by a bang.
He opened the door and went into the hall. Clara moved to follow. He turned and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Stay here,” he said. “Do not come out. I will not risk your safety.”
She drew breath as though she intended to contradict him then thought better of it.
Julian went quickly down the hallway towards the sound.
It came from upstairs. He turned the corner to the flight of stairs, and then he saw it.
Marianne was in her nightgown with a robe thrown over it, and a tall man had her by the hair and was dragging her down the stairs. Julian’s blood rose instantly.
“Unhand her,” he called. The man stopped and looked up. “Mind your own business,” he replied, and continued hauling Marianne down.
“This is my business. Unhand her at once.”
The man looked at Marianne with a sneer. “Is that your new fellow? Should’ve known. Women like you can never—”
“Release her,” Julian said, and came down the stairs.
The man let go of Marianne and turned, coming at Julian. Julian moved quickly to the side of the stairs and extended one foot. The man, a clumsy brute of considerable size, went straight over it and tumbled down the stairs.
“Go to my chamber,” Julian told Marianne quickly. “Tell Clara to keep the door closed.”
“This is Molly’s father,” she said.
He nodded. “Go.”
Marianne hurried past the man, who was already clambering back to his feet.
“Don’t you dare run from me,” the man shouted.
Julian grabbed him by the collar. “You will leave. I understand you have a wife to get home to.”
“Had a wife,” the man replied. “Not anymore. Not thanks to her. She found out about the child and threw me out.” He looked Julian up and down with contempt. “Thought I’d come and get what I’m owed. Though perhaps instead of going to her, I should turn to you. Has she trapped you yet?”
Julian pulled the man forward and down the hallway. From below, voices called out, demanding to know what the commotion was.
“You will leave,” Julian said.
“I will do no such thing,” the man said and spun in Julian’s grip, wrenching himself free.
“Marianne!” he shouted and bolted. Julian cursed himself for not having kept a tighter hold. The man was down the second flight of stairs, and with a lurch of horror, Julian saw that Clara had opened the door to admit Marianne. The woman had barely made it through when the man caught her.
Julian sprinted forward but not fast enough. The man grabbed Marianne around the waist and the two of them disappeared into the room.
“Julian!” Clara called, followed by a shriek.
He went in. In the darkness, by the fireplace, he saw Clara on the floor with Marianne beside her, a fireplace poker in Marianne’s hand.
“Charlie, there is nothing for you here. Go.”
“That is not how I see it. I knew sooner or later you’d come back. You owe me.”
“I owe you nothing,” she shouted. “You are the one who lied to me. You did not tell me you were married, and when I told you I was with child, you vanished. You have been nothing but a disgrace, Charlie Dunmore.”
Julian crossed the room and helped Clara to her feet.
“The children,” he gasped.
“She hid them in the chest of drawers; I will get them.” She ran out of the room before he could say anything else.
“Get him out of here,” Marianne said. “Clara, get them.”
The man named Charlie turned on Julian. “And who do you think you are? What is this? Some sort of arrangement between the three of you? Sick, I tell you.”
“Not as sick as you,” Julian said and focused on Charlie again.
Charlie grabbed the fireplace poker and raised it. “I’ll leave once I have what I’m owed.”
“You are owed nothing,” Marianne shouted.
Charlie did not get any further. Julian dashed forward, caught the man’s wrist, and the two grappled. He pushed Charlie backward into the wall. The fireplace poker fell from the man’s grip and clattered to the floor.
“You will leave her alone,” Julian said. “She owes you nothing. If anything, it is you who owes her.”
Hurried footsteps sounded behind him, but he could not look.
Charlie spat and shoved Julian back hard.
Julian went crashing to the floor, the wind knocked clean out of his lungs.
He groaned and pushed himself up. Charlie was on top of him before he could rise fully, and the two men grappled across the floor.
Julian realized with some irritation that he had underestimated how strong the man was.
Still, he was not going to let this brute harm Clara or Marianne.
He pulled his arm back as far as he could and landed a facer squarely on Charlie’s jaw.
Charlie sat up and grabbed at his face. Then a thud came as something struck him hard on the side of the head, and the man toppled sideways with blood running from a wound at his temple.
A hand extended to Julian. He looked up. Clara stood over him, shaking her head.
“Good gracious. What a brute.”
He took her hand and stood. In the candlelight spilling from the hallway, he saw she had struck the man with the candleholder, which had rendered the room entirely dark.
“Where are the children?”
“I saw Nell on the stairs, going to her chamber. I sent her upstairs to tend to them, as I thought you might need assistance.”
“I could have taken him,” he said with a small smile.
“Could you?” she replied. “I was not so certain. It looked very much as though you needed assistance.”
“Your eyes deceived you.”
“Did they? I suppose I ought to get spectacles, for it appeared to me that you were on the floor, and he was on top of you.”
“Immediately before I planted the facer on him,” he pointed out, one finger raised for emphasis.
“Quite right,” she said. Then she looked at Charlie, who was grunting. “I wonder how he knew Marianne was here.”
“He has friends here, I imagine,” Julian said.
They were interrupted when Marianne returned with Frederick behind her, who had brought two other men with him.
“Oh, Charlie, you old fool,” Frederick said, surveying the scene. “I do beg your pardon,” he added, turning to Julian and Clara. “The constables will come and take him away. Do not worry on that score.”
“How did he know Marianne was here?” Clara asked, crossing to Marianne, who looked considerably more shaken now than she had during the scuffle itself.
Frederick sighed heavily. “After his wife threw him out, he settled here. Decided it was Marianne’s fault his marriage fell apart, as if he hadn’t lied to her in the first place. I do not allow him in my establishment, but he still has friends around. One of them must have told him she was back.”
“I beg your pardon,” Julian said. “We ought not to have asked you to come here.”
“I am glad you did,” Marianne said. “I had to face him sooner or later though I will admit I had hoped for somewhat better circumstances.”
“I will make sure he does not trouble you again,” Julian said.
“Not to worry,” Frederick said though there was something in his expression as he looked at Marianne that Julian noted carefully. “He will not come anywhere near her. You have my word on that. I will have a man stand outside her and the children’s room and another in front of your other friend’s.”
They left then, and Julian was once again alone with Clara.
“Well,” he said, “that was a rather more eventful evening than either of us had anticipated.”
Clara nodded but said nothing. She went to sit on the edge of the bed. Julian came and sat beside her, leaving a respectful distance. “Are you quite all right? You seem shaken.”
“I am fine,” she said. But her voice gave her away.
“Mrs. Holt appears perfectly well, and Frederick seems determined to see to her safety. And the children are with Nell.”
Clara took a breath. “It is not Marianne I am worried about.” Her voice cracked.
“It is only… I see such evil in the world sometimes. That man sought to harm her even though he was the one in the wrong. He was the one who lied to her. He was the one who left her with child, and yet he came here to harm her.” She stopped.
“What if Arabella is in that same danger? What if this man who has been after her finds her before we do? What if we do not reach her in—”
Her shoulders gave way then, and he heard the sob fill the room.
He moved closer. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. He ran one hand slowly up and down her arm.
“Do not fret,” he said. “We will find her. Arabella is a formidable woman. Look at what she has managed already. She escaped from Italy. She came home. She convinced a servant to abandon his post and help her. She found a way to keep her son safe. In the midst of all of it, she even had him baptized.” He paused.
“Whoever Bash is, he had better pray he does not catch up to her. I would not want to be in his shoes if she does.”
To his surprise, she reached out and wrapped her arms around him. They stayed that way for a long time, her head against his shoulder, the fire burning low.
It felt right. It felt so entirely, dangerously right.
He shifted slightly and, without thinking, pressed his lips to her forehead.
He heard her breath catch. She drew her head back and looked at him, and in the darkness, her eyes shimmered with tears that had not yet fallen.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted it with a clarity that frightened him. He did not move.
With what felt like a considerable feat of self-command, he got to his feet.
“You ought to sleep. It has been a far more adventurous night than either of us intended.”
“Yes,” she said. Then, quietly, she added, “Will you sleep in the bed with me?”
He knew he should say no. He knew it perfectly well. But she needed him, and he could see it plainly.
He nodded.
She lay back down, and he went to the other side of the bed, placing himself on top of the blanket which served as a barrier between them.
He lay down beside her and was relieved when she turned her back to him.
Without thinking, he reached out and laid one hand gently against the back of her head before drawing his arm back. She was asleep within minutes.
Julian remained awake. Not because the bed was uncomfortable or because of the noise. Simply because he could finally relax. Indeed, his mind was at ease which was in and of itself quite the accomplishment.