Chapter 23 #2
"And then I began to know you. The real you—not the wealthy widow or the estate owner, but the woman who worried about tenants' welfare, who worked in the garden with her own hands, who laughed when she fell over trying to rescue a rosemary bush.
You told me things you would not have told Lord Avebury. "
I felt heat rise in my cheeks at the memory.
"I realized that if you knew who I really was, everything would change. You would see me as Lord Avebury first, as a potential husband to be evaluated for your social advancement, rather than simply as Julian who enjoyed your company."
"So you decided to deceive me."
"I decided to delay telling you. Each day that passed made it harder to reveal the truth without seeming calculating about the concealment. I admit, have admitted and will continue to apologize for allowing such accumulated omissions of the truth."
The music was drawing toward its close, but Julian's words continued.
"I've never met anyone like you, Eliza. Your courage, your compassion, the way you see people for who they truly are rather than what they represent—I didn't want to lose that before we'd had the chance to truly know each other."
I nodded.
"And now I will wait as long as it takes for you to trust me again. I would rather have your friendship built on complete honesty than your romantic regard based on partial truth."
As the waltz ended and we separated with the prescribed courtesy, I found myself more confused than ever. His explanation made sense, even as it highlighted the fundamental problem—he had made choices about what I should know and when, robbing me of the ability to make my own decisions.
But looking into his gray eyes, seeing the sincerity and regret there, I felt my carefully maintained distance wavering.
"Thank you for explaining," I said quietly.
"Does it help?"
"It helps me understand...yes. And I concede you make a good point.
And I know I rushed to the assumption you were a steward, when even then I could see discrepancies between what I saw in you and what I had assumed a steward to be.
I think I wanted you to be my steward. I wanted you to have a reason to stick around.
" The admission shocked me. But it was the truth. And as I saw the implications of it cross Julian’s face, I knew he could guess at my feelings.
But he just nodded. “Even though I am not your steward, I am here to stay.”
I considered his extraordinary promise. He had become so much more than my steward and the idea that he would stay by me brought me more comfort than I realized I needed.
I clung to it. “I recognize the great gift of what you are telling me. I am not trying to toy with you or keep you guessing. I’m trying to feel at peace with it all. ”
“That’s all I can ask, and I thank you for that. I will do what it takes.” He ran a hand through his air. “If only I could return to that first day and introduce myself properly.”
I recognized that while the Captain offered safety and uncomplicated affection, Julian represented something infinitely more—the possibility of a true connection, one so deep I would never be the same.
The question was whether I had the courage to risk my heart on someone who had already proven capable of breaking it.
Before I could respond, the music ended and Julian was escorting me back to where Captain Hollings waited with obvious impatience.
"Mrs. Tynsdale," the Captain said immediately, "I was hoping you might join me for supper? I have a table reserved, and I'd very much like to continue our earlier conversation."
"What a lovely invitation," I said, accepting his offered arm.
As Captain Hollings led me toward the supper room, I glanced back to see Julian watching our departure with an expression I couldn't quite interpret. But I feared it was genuine concern and my heart clenched for I did not wish to hurt him.
The supper proved as delightful as the dancing.
Captain Hollings was an entertaining companion, full of amusing stories from his military service and thoughtful observations about society and politics.
He asked intelligent questions about estate management and listened to my answers with the sort of respect that suggested he valued my opinions.
More importantly, he made no secret of his growing interest in me as a person rather than merely a dance partner.
"I hope I'm not being too forward," he said over the dessert course, "but I find myself quite fascinated by your approach to life. Such independence combined with genuine care for others' welfare is a rare combination."
"You're very kind."
"I hope you'll allow me to call upon you soon? I'd very much like to see your foundling home and perhaps discuss ways I might contribute to the Christmas celebrations."
Before I could respond, Julian appeared beside our table with the sort of casual confidence that suggested his interruption was entirely accidental.
"Hollings, Mrs. Tynsdale. I hope you're enjoying the evening?"
"Very much," Captain Hollings replied, though his tone suggested Julian's presence was not entirely welcome. "We were just discussing Mrs. Tynsdale's charitable work."
"Ah yes, the Christmas project. Quite an undertaking. Mrs. Tynsdale has coordinated the entire community in support of those children."
"So I understand. I was just expressing my desire to contribute to such worthy work."
"Admirable," Julian said smoothly. "Though I suspect Mrs. Tynsdale already has extensive assistance from established sources."
I looked between the two men, beginning to understand that I was witnessing some sort of polite territorial dispute disguised as social conversation.
"I'm certain there's room for additional assistance," I said diplomatically. "The children's welfare is more important than questions of organization."
"Quite right," Captain Hollings agreed. "Perhaps we might discuss specific ways I could help when I call upon you?"
"I look forward to it."
As Julian excused himself with perfect politeness, I noticed that his departure was followed by Captain Hollings's obvious relief.
"Avebury seems quite... involved in your charitable efforts," the Captain observed carefully.
"Yes, he’s made a huge impact here and is very supportive."
"Indeed. And is his support purely... philanthropic in nature?"
The question was delicately phrased, but its meaning was unmistakable. Captain Hollings was inquiring about the nature of my relationship with Julian.
"Lord Avebury and I work together on matters of mutual concern," I replied carefully. "The welfare of local families requires cooperation between neighboring estates."
"Of course. Though I confess I find myself hoping that your cooperation extends no further than charitable endeavors."
The frank statement sent a flutter through my chest. Captain Hollings was making his romantic interest clear without being improper about it.
"Captain Hollings—"
"James, please. And I hope I may call you Eliza? I feel as though we've moved beyond formal courtesy this evening."
"James," I said, testing the name. It felt pleasant but somehow incomplete compared to the way Julian's name had always felt natural on my lips.
The remainder of the evening passed in a blur of social interactions, with both Julian and James vying for my attention in increasingly subtle but determined ways. Julian appeared at my side whenever James stepped away, while James seemed to find reasons to interrupt whenever Julian approached.
By the time our carriage was called, I felt thoroughly courted and somewhat overwhelmed by the intensity of masculine attention.
"Well," Victoria said with obvious satisfaction as we settled into our seats, "that was quite a successful evening."
“Timothy Hollings couldn't take his eyes off you," Georgiana added excitedly. "And Lord Avebury looked positively possessive whenever the Captain approached."
I sighed. "I think I’m rather exhausted by the whole of it."
"You have two of the most eligible gentlemen in Somerset competing for your attention. It's exactly the sort of situation every young woman dreams of."
As our carriage made its way through the dark countryside, I reviewed the evening's revelations. Timothy Hollings offered the promise of uncomplicated affection and social acceptance.
Julian, on the other hand, represented both the deepest connection I had ever felt and the most significant betrayal I had experienced. He was familiar in ways that went beyond the physical, and he had become my dearest friend.
I suspected I already knew which path would lead to happiness. As Lucy helped me undress and ready for bed, I noticed something considerably more bulky in my reticule. “What could this be?” I pulled out a fold of papers that seemed to be torn from a book. “How curious.”
Lucy tried not to pry but I could tell she was just a interested as I.
I opened them to find what appeared to be journal entries, a diary of sorts, from Julian. “Goodness, what has he done!” I blushed furiously. Sharing one’s diary with a woman was intimate indeed. I folded them back up again. “I’ll have to read those later.”
“Yes you shall, miss.” Lucy’s smile brightened but she said nothing further as she braided my long hair.