Chapter 17
Since his father died, Jeremy rarely went to White’s, the club where he and his father were members. But Shelley had invited him to play cards there, and Juliet had Mrs. Wilson to keep her company at home, as her friend had left for home that morning.
They were just starting a game when he heard a bit of a ruckus in the room next door. He thought little of it until his friend, Lord Peabody, appeared at his shoulder and said, “I need to speak with you. It is urgent.”
Jeremy folded, laying his cards down, and excused himself.
White’s was a cavernous building of many rooms, rooms off hallways and rooms off rooms, and so it was relatively easy to find an unoccupied space to have a private conversation.
“What is so urgent?” Jeremy asked.
In a low voice, Peabody said, “I was playing cards with Alfred Wallcroft. You’re acquainted with him, are you not?”
“Yes.” He was the friend of that weasel, Fairweather.
“Well, Wallcroft was so drunk he should not have been making wagers, so I took him in another room to try to sober him up. It was there that he told me that George Fairweather had forced a kiss on your sister, Miss Juliet, in a dark alley and had tried to do a lot more than that, but she’d scratched his face and made him stop. He still has a bit of a scar from it.”
Jeremy’s face went hot. How dare that fiend touch his sister? And how dare Peabody have the nerve to even speak those words about Juliet? He wanted to throttle him too, but he forced himself to listen.
“I only tell you because I thought you might want to shut the fellow up before he tells anyone else.”
“And you?” Jeremy demanded.
“I would not breathe a word of it to anyone, I swear to you. I have a sister myself, and I have no wish to hear either her or Miss Juliet spoken of in such a way.”
He forced himself to thank Peabody, then asked him where he might find Wallcroft.
Jeremy was nearly blind with rage. But somehow he managed to find Wallcroft in the water closet, vomiting. He waited for him to finish, meanwhile clenching and unclenching his fists. Then Jeremy grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
“How do you dare speak of what Fairweather did to my sister?”
Wallcroft held up his hands as if to ward him off.
“I didn’t do it, d-d-didn’t do anything,” he muttered. “I wasn’t even there.”
Jeremy grabbed him by the throat, although not hard enough to restrict his air flow.
“Fairweather lied, do you hear me? Nothing happened. If you say a word to anyone else, if you tell another living soul what you just said to Lord Peabody, I will find you, and I will make you sorry you were ever born.”
He squeezed harder for good measure, then let go.
Wallcroft rubbed his neck. “I won’t tell a soul. I’m not a fighter. I don’t want to fight.”
“And just in case you are too drunk to remember this, I will find you tomorrow and I will make you hear it again.”
“I’m not too drunk. I’ll remem-member.”
“And you will tell me where Fairweather is.” Jeremy thumped his chest, leaning close, in spite of the man’s foul alcohol-and-vomit breath.
“He’s playing cards upstairs.”
Jeremy turned and stomped away.
He stood in the empty hallway in a dark corner, took deep breaths, and tried to think.
He could go to the constable, have Fairweather locked up and tried in court, but that would destroy Juliet’s reputation. No gentleman would wish to marry her after it was publicly revealed what Fairweather had done. The only other way to make Fairweather pay was to fight him in a duel.
He didn’t want to kill Fairweather, but in a duel, one could injure his opponent and still win the duel without killing him. But there were no guarantees. And Jeremy had no wish to kill anyone. Yet he could not allow that man to get away with what he did to Juliet.
Juliet must have been so afraid. His head ached, thinking of how he hadn’t been there to protect her.
He went up the stairs and stepped into every room until he found Fairweather grinning and laying down his cards on the table.
Jeremy took a breath. He didn’t want to make a scene, so he took another breath and another, until he had himself under control. Then he stepped toward Fairweather.
“May I have a word in private?” he said quietly near Fairweather’s ear.
Fear flickered over his face. He excused himself from the table and asked another to hold his winnings.
Jeremy led him to an empty room, faced him, then punched him in the chin as hard as he could.
Fairweather stumbled backward. “I’ll have you arrested.” Fairweather held one hand to his chin and the other palm out, as if to hold Jeremy back.
“No, you will meet me for a duel at dawn at Battersea Fields.”
Fairweather stuttered, then said, “That’s not enough time to ask my seconds.”
“At dawn, day after tomorrow, then.”
“What did I do? Why are you calling me out?”
“You know what you did.” He drew his fist back as if to hit him again. Fairweather shrank back.
Jeremy could see the pink scar from a fairly fresh scratch across his left cheek.
“You will never do that to anyone else, ever again. You will never show your face here at White’s again, and if I ever catch you in the same room with my sister, I will take you out and kill you right there.
” He was so angry he could barely control himself, his clenched fists ready at his sides.
Fairweather’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.
He pressed his fist into Fairweather’s chest, hard. “Get your seconds ready. Battersea Fields at dawn, one day hence.”
He stomped from the room, went downstairs, half stumbling, found his horse, and rode for home.
He’d need to get a couple of fellows to act as his seconds, but first . . . he had to sort through this murderous rage that was making his blood boil and his limbs shake.
Once he was home and safe in his room, having successfully avoided seeing anyone, even the servants, he sank to his knees and put his head in his hands.
How could he have let this happen?
On his death bed, Jeremy’s father had said, “Take care of your sister. You are her protector now.” His father, weak as he was, had squeezed his wrist. “You must look after her.”
“Of course, Father.” He would have looked after her without his father’s admonition, but there was something so urgent in his face, and it was that look and that urgency that had haunted him.
Then when their mother died a few months later, she’d said, “Stay close to Juliet. She loves you so much. She will need you now more than ever.”
He’d taken his responsibility seriously, hadn’t he? Then why had this happened? It was his fault. He was responsible for her, and he had let this happen to her.
She’d seemed different, a bit more humble and hesitant, but he’d thought it was just that she was maturing, or that she was in love, or even maybe that Miss Moore was influencing her. But it had been a very dark, unholy reason instead; she’d been molested by that fiend, Fairweather.
A wave of nausea came over him. He grabbed the chamber pot and threw up.
Jeremy sat in the floor and prayed silently, his prayers going from asking God to help him avenge his sister without killing anyone, to asking God for healing for Juliet, to asking for wisdom.
He’d already challenged the villain to a duel, and he could not take it back. He would meet him at dawn as agreed, in a little over twenty-four hours.
“Use me,” he whispered. “But prevent me from doing anything that is not Your will.”
I had more callers every day, now that my aunt had redoubled her efforts and we were attending balls and parties every night.
It often happened that more than one young man called on me at once.
But I suspected that the reason most of them stopped calling on me soon after was due to them discovering my small dowry.
When Mrs. Kendall and I arrived at Lady Everson’s ball, I saw Juliet and Jeremy right away. Jeremy had a strange look on his face. Was he angry? I wasn’t sure, but his expression disturbed me, as if something was very wrong.
Juliet pulled me aside.
“Something has happened,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
Juliet led me down the hall to a side room and closed the door. We glanced around to make sure no one was inside.
Juliet leaned close to me and whispered, “Jeremy found out last night what happened with Mr. F.”
“How?”
“I think Mr. Wallcroft got drunk and told one of Jeremy’s friends, and he told Jeremy. He challenged him to a duel. Amelia, I’m so afraid. What if Jeremy is hurt? He could even be killed.”
My heart sank.
“Will you ask him not to do it?” Juliet asked, and I could hear the tears in her voice.
“I will, but why do you think he would listen to me?”
“I’m just desperate. I don’t know what else to do. I begged him not to do it, but he won’t listen.” Juliet suddenly drew in a loud breath and stood straighter. “If that monster hurts my brother, I will . . . I don’t know. Please, will you talk to him?”
“I will try to talk to him. But don’t worry. I’m sure your brother won’t let anyone get the better of him.” Somehow I just couldn’t imagine Jeremy Beaumont losing a duel.
“But what if people find out about the duel, and find out why he’s challenging him to a duel? Mr. Shelley would never marry me then. No one would.”
I’d never seen Juliet look so distraught.
“I just couldn’t bear it if people found out what he did. It would bring shame on my whole family.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Juliet. You weren’t the one who did something terrible.”
“It won’t matter. You know that. Just please talk to Jeremy. Won’t you please?”
“I will try. Of course I will. Perhaps he can be persuaded not to do it.”
Juliet wiped her face and sighed. “Thank you.”
We opened the door, and Jeremy was standing in the hallway just outside.
“Amelia wants to talk to you,” Juliet said.
Jeremy stepped into the room and started to say something, but Juliet cut him off. “I’m going to find the water closet.”
Juliet slipped out and closed the door, but Jeremy opened it again, leaving a crack of about two inches.