Chapter 18 #2
‘I had hoped your brother might temper his enthusiasm tonight,’ he murmured as they turned into the dining room, ‘so we might enjoy a little time without attention, but clearly it was not meant to be.’ He nodded at Aunt Higglestone, who was dimpling with pride from a seat further up the dining table.
‘But I would like to answer your earlier charge, if I may, Miss Fairfax, and clarify that I keep very few friends, as I’m sure you have already guessed, and it was business that took me away, not pleasure.
’ He paused beside Josephine’s chair, while she took her seat.
‘In truth, while I accept your admonishments and apologise for them,’ he added intently, ‘I hope to nurture one very particular friendship in the future, with far fewer secrets.’
He made his way to his seat then, between Matilda and Captain Damerel, while Josephine awaited the first course feeling even more confused than before.
How could he talk to her of fewer secrets when he kept more than anyone she knew? And why did he think that she would be remotely interested in friendship, when he couldn’t even be honest with himself?
‘You are certainly very quiet for a newly betrothed young lady,’ Sir Francis murmured beside her. ‘I hope you are contemplating new beginnings … or perhaps missed opportunities?’
Josephine glanced across at his athletic figure, his eyes reflecting the deep Prussian-blue of his evening coat, and wondered again why the universe seemed so intent on putting them in the same space.
‘I’m not sure why you might imagine I am considering either,’ Josephine replied tersely, nodding to a footman bearing a tray of crayfish, ‘when there are so many delicious entrées for the first course and my favourite pastries among the puddings.’
Sir Francis’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘As I said many weeks ago, Miss Fairfax, I believe you are the enigma of the family. Every other Fairfax says what they think when they think it – you, however, are like an untitled book, and I do so like to know what I am reading.’
Josephine suppressed a frown, conscious of both Miss Isabella’s and Miss Amelia’s misty-eyed gazes from the bottom of the table.
‘Do you believe every young lady should be available for perusal, Sir Francis?’ She smiled politely. ‘Or should they be entitled to choose their own readers?’
‘Smart, Miss Fairfax! Very smart! I don’t believe even your dear brother has your presence of mind, but my question is coloured by my experience, you see – I’ve never met a young lady who hasn’t wished to be read a little … until you.’
Josephine paused, noticing the same gleam in his eyes as the night of the Hampton Ball. ‘Then perhaps, sir, it is beneficial that you have found a favoured book with whom you yourself are contemplating a new beginning,’ she replied, accepting a slice of roast pigeon pie.
Sir Francis looked quizzical as he took a sip of wine, yet was prevented from responding as Sophie’s light voice suddenly rose above the rest.
‘Do you plan to reside in Somerset, Lord Huntingly, once you and Josephine are wed?’ she asked brightly. ‘Or will you reopen your townhouse? I understand it is but a stone’s throw from Grosvenor Square.’
‘What our dear sister is actually asking is whether Josephine will be on hand to babysit her fair charges whenever she is in need?’ Henry chortled from further down the table, his cheeks a little too pink.
‘Henry!’ Matilda chastised like an old maid. ‘You’re in your cups already and we don’t even have our puddings!’
‘Matilda Fairfax!’ Aunt Higglestone remonstrated in turn, her eyes wider than Josephine thought was probably good for anyone. ‘What would your dear mama say! She’d say I hadn’t taken enough care of you all, that’s what!’ she lamented.
‘Thank you for your kind enquiry, Lady Rotherby,’ Lord Huntingly replied smoothly, coming to Matilda’s rescue.
‘You are kind to ask, but the truth is that I am keen to restore Huntingly Manor to its former state now I am returned, so I imagine much of our time in the foreseeable future will be spent in Somerset – with your sister’s agreement, of course. ’
Josephine watched his attention swing back to herself, his eyes guarded as they flickered past Sir Francis to meet her own.
‘So, you don’t plan to hold any fashionable parties, or venture to the continent for your honeymoon?
’ Phoebe enquired. ‘Alexander and I had the most wonderful honeymoon in Rome and Florence when we visited, and I’m sure Josephine would very much enjoy all the history and culture there.
’ She smiled at the Viscount Damerel affectionately.
‘The view from the top of the Duomo really is quite something,’ she added.
‘Don’t give away all my secrets!’ Viscount Damerel exclaimed in mock alarm. ‘It took me years to compile a list of exciting locations with which I could impress my dear, headstrong wife!’
A ripple of amusement echoed around the table as Josephine glanced at Lord Huntingly.
‘Parties and honeymoons are not terribly high on my agenda,’ he replied, after a beat. ‘And Italy does not hold any great romance for me. I prefer the moorland on our own doorstep, truth be told.’
‘Oh, so do I!’ Matilda exclaimed impulsively. ‘There is nothing better than a dawn ride with the sun just reaching over the hills. It’s always my favourite time!’
‘You are to be commended, Miss Fairfax,’ Lord Huntingly smiled. ‘There are few who would exchange the comfort of their slumber for such a view, but I am in hard agreement.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t catch me riding at that time – unless I hadn’t gone to bed at all!’ Fred chuckled.
‘And I wager it would be the last thing on your mind, even then.’ Sir Francis grinned, ignoring a melting look from Miss Amelia.
‘Lord, don’t wager a Fairfax, Sir Francis,’ Sophie chimed. ‘You really should know better than that, it can lead to all sorts of trouble.’ She glanced at her charismatic husband, who raised an eyebrow questioningly.
‘I think we all know who needs to learn to resist a wager,’ he replied drolly, setting everyone laughing again.
Josephine laughed with everyone else, but was conscious of the tightness returning to her chest. The rapport between her sisters and their husbands was heartwarming, yet it only accentuated the gulf between herself and Lord Huntingly.
And then Sir Francis seemed so intent on teasing her that, by the time the ladies withdrew, she was longing for the peace and solitude of her bedchamber.
‘Lord, isn’t anyone coming to the drawing room tonight?’ Matilda complained as she, Phoebe and Sophie all made their excuses at the bottom of the staircase.
‘You can’t really blame us, Matty,’ Phoebe smiled. ‘We’re old married ladies now – well, nearly all of us – and tomorrow is going to be busy. Besides, the gentlemen will only lay each other a pony they can put out a candle with a flintlock or some such thing.’
‘Put out a candle with a flintlock?’ Sophie echoed, wrinkling her nose in disgust. ‘I certainly hope not! I may be a Fairfax, but I’m still in a delicate state.’
‘Oh hush, there’s nothing delicate about your state, Lady Rotherby!’ Phoebe teased affectionately. ‘Come on, old lady, I’ll walk you to your bedchamber.’
‘And what’s your excuse?’ Matilda demanded mulishly, as their elder sisters turned to go.
‘Nothing other than the headache,’ Josephine confessed, ‘and a desire for my bed.’
‘Don’t worry, Matilda, we will keep you company!
’ Miss Amelia cooed as she and Charlotte Davenport emerged from the dining room.
‘Josephine has an important day tomorrow, and, if the gentlemen wish for music, Sir Francis can play the pianoforte and I can help turn pages! Oh, I’m sure we will all be well entertained, and your sister will gain great comfort from a good night’s sleep.
’ She turned her pretty smile towards Josephine, who had no doubt that her real delight lay in the prospect of turning pages for Sir Francis, with half the female party out of the way.
Yet the thought of joining them for more baffling conversations and questioning looks was more than she could endure.
‘Thank you, Amelia, that is most kind,’ she nodded. ‘I’m sure I will benefit greatly from the rest … I bid you all good night.’
Then she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber where, at last, she was able to empty her wild and tumbling thoughts onto paper.
Dear Fitzwilliam,
I have never felt so lost. Having entered this betrothal with the clear purpose of protecting a most beloved sister, I must conclude that sustaining it is not straightforward at all.
In truth, were I to have no misgivings about the bridegroom’s character, I might welcome his inclinations towards my sister, and yet my misgivings have never been graver – and so I must go on with this charade…
Josephine sighed and reached forward to ink her quill just as a faint rustle made her pause.
Frowning, she pushed her hand into the pocket of her skirt and withdrew the slim package Benson had given her earlier.
She’d been so distracted by the evening, she’d completely forgotten about it.
Swiftly, she untied the string, and opened the paper to find two yellow envelopes, bearing military stamps, inside.
A strange excitement laced through her as she turned them over.
She knew exactly who they were from for they weren’t fresh correspondence at all, but two more letters written in George Pellham’s distinct hand.
And while there was no note, she knew that Mrs Pellham had sent them for her to read, that somehow they’d been separated from the main bundle.
Her gaze flickered briefly to her writing box containing the rest of the letters. She’d read them all twice and, aside from the brief line about Eliza’s regrets, they’d provided no firm evidence at all. But perhaps all that was about to change now, perhaps she was finally to learn the truth.
The truth. Wasn’t it the truth that she’d begun this believing she was sacrificing her heart, and now feared she no longer knew it?
She turned the first letter over in her hands, almost afraid to open it, and yet the barrage of conflict within her threatened to dull all else. How was she to proceed at all without knowing what happened in Italy?
‘Huntingly’s name is far from unblemished. If I were you, I should take a little care … your Fairfax reputation will have much work to counteract his history.’
‘I cannot imagine how I would live without you, Eliza, you have always been my guide and strength, even through the darkest times, and I know, like me, you regret it all…’
Trembling, Josephine opened both letters and smoothed them out before her. They were dated three weeks apart.
2nd May 1825
Dearest Eliza,
I am beyond worried to read the contagion is sweeping the village, and pray your strength and constitution will bear you through the next few weeks.
I also write in some haste for the inevitable has happened…
Although in separate battalions, we have finally crossed paths here in Paris, and I could tell immediately that there has been no change on his part.
He intends to know, one way or another, and so I have but one choice…
It is extremely fortuitous that my time in occupation has recently come to an end and I can disappear – for that is my intention.
I shall write again when I reach my destination, but for now please know that I remain
Your doting brother,
George
17th May 1825
Dearest Eliza,
Your last letter struck a chill into my heart, and all my prayers and thoughts are with you. Look to yourself at this time and know that I am right beside you, as always.
You should also know that he has discovered me in Rome, and I’ve only just managed to slip back to my lodgings alone. I fear I will not be able to do so forever, and I am so tired.
Promise me, Eliza, that should anything happen you shall not be emboldened to speak out, for our mother’s sake, if not your own. And I entreat you, with the love of a brother who has cared for little else, to keep faith.
George