Chapter Four
Justina set out on foot from Traywick Manor, walking the three miles into Kidsgrove.
Now that the high season was over, she enjoyed the peace which had returned to the area.
Mama had said the Lake District was not always like this, overcrowded with newcomers during the summer months of good weather. Two things had changed that.
The first was when Thomas West published a travel book, A Guide to the Lakes.
His book had a list of various stations where visitors could enjoy the best views of the area’s landscapes.
As the book’s popularity grew, the amount of tourists coming to the Lake District increased.
Especially with so much of Europe being entangled in Bonaparte’s war, the famous Grand Tour many young English gentlemen took had been severely curtailed.
Cumberland had a scenic beauty which rivaled countries such as Switzerland, France, and Germany, with its lakes, fells, and valleys.
With so many sons of peers wanting to travel, the Lake District grew in popularity.
Then the Lake Poets had arrived, describing the beauty of places such as Grasmere and Windermere in their picturesque poetry.
These poems proved extremely popular, and then families flocked to the area.
Tourism had increased last year, when William Wordsworth, the leading Lake Poet, published his own book detailing the area.
Guide to the Lakes had proven to be extremely popular with the book-buying public, and Justina had never seen so many out and about throughout the Lake District this summer.
It had almost made her wish that she and Tray had remained in for the entire Season, simply to avoid the swarms of visitors.
She was glad, however, that they had visited with family in town for two weeks during late April, then returned to Traywick Manor.
Though she did not wear black, nor even gray or lilac, her heart had been heavy these past few months.
It reminded her of the tradition of sailing vessels flying blue flags and painting a blue band around a ship’s hull when their captain or another officer died.
Mama had been the foundation of not only the Fulton family, but also the most steadfast and reliable member of their extended family, which included their Alington and Worthington cousins.
It would have been wrong to stay in town while she was so melancholic.
The Season had become a happy time for their large family, and Justina had decided it was best to return to Traywick Manor and continue to grieve in private.
Mama had been gone over six months now, and Justina was beginning to find her rhythm of life again.
She had taken over all Mama’s household duties, meeting weekly with Cook to discuss the menus and with Mrs. Larsen on Tuesdays and Fridays to discuss matters regarding the house.
Every decision she made, from when to change bed linens to how often to beat the dust from the carpets, came from the well of information her mother had supplied.
Fortunately, they had an excellent staff of servants, and with her light suggestions, the household ran like clockwork.
Tray, who had consulted Mama on important decisions regarding the estate, now turned to her.
First, he talked them over with Hillman, their steward, and then he would bring the matter to her.
Just as he had with Mama, they would mention the benefits and drawbacks regarding an issue and then how each decision would have an effect on Traywick lands and their tenants.
She liked that her brother trusted her opinion enough to speak about estate matters with her.
While Tray was always good company, she realized they both were a bit lonely without Mama’s presence in the household.
They had spent a great deal of time with Lia and Rupert at Crestbrook since they were their nearest neighbors.
It was good to have additional family nearby, especially the children.
Next month, Mary and Edward would turn three, while Damaris, who was already walking, would turn a year old.
Celia, Rupert’s niece, was also a part of the brood and at nine, bright and sweet.
Lia and Rupert had been generous with their time, as well as their children, letting Tray and Justina lose themselves in child’s play these past few months.
As she headed toward Kidsgrove, Justina decided Tray needed to make plans to find a bride next Season.
He had mentioned several times that he wanted both his sisters settled into marriage before he thought to look for a wife himself, but Justina was still unsure if marriage was the right path for her.
Part of the problem was she couldn’t see giving so much of herself to a man.
Not just in the physical sense, which Verina and Lia had shared with her, but also the emotional sense.
Did she really want a man to know her innermost thoughts?
Her cousins talked of how they shared everything with their husbands, and while she saw how happy they were in the marriages they had made, Justina was worried that if she was stripped bare—metaphorically, of course—a suitor would not find her to his liking.
She already thought the Season superficial, as well as the entire manner of courtship.
Why, young ladies became betrothed to gentlemen whom they had only danced with three or four times!
And from what Verina said, many of the conversations were shallow.
The men were glib. The women could be malicious gossips.
A girl making her come-out had to have an enormous wardrobe designed for her, only wearing a gown once to an event, else she might be judged harshly, all while talking about inane topics such as the weather.
The whole process was not to her liking.
Besides, she had numerous cousins who had babes. She was like an aunt to them all, as well as being a blood aunt to Marcus. Justina suspected Verina would soon be with child again. Her sister and Matthew had made no secret that they longed for more children.
Thank goodness Verina and her family had come to Traywick Manor at the end of June.
They had stayed for a month, taking Justina’s mind off Mama’s death.
They talked of everything under the sun, and it was so good to have Verina home again.
Then she and Matthew had returned to Redfield, which lay in Suffolk, on the opposite side of England from Traywick Manor.
Tia and Hugo lived a half-hour’s carriage ride from Verina, and so they saw one another often.
Justina and Verina had hugged fiercely before her sister got into the carriage, Verina telling her that she was always welcome anytime at Redfield.
She might take advantage of that invitation early in the new year.
For now, though, autumn was her absolute favorite time of year, and she was painting like a woman possessed.
She ventured into Kidsgrove this morning, needing to replenish her paints, as well as pick up blank canvases and a new sketchbook.
But she had not been to the village in almost two weeks, and hoped Mr. Shaft had remembered to order the canvases for her.
Once she arrived in the village, she stopped at the milliner’s, thinking to treat herself to a new hat.
It had been a long time since she had purchased one.
Mama had been fond of hats, and Justina had taken to wearing some of them, feeling closer to Mama when she did so.
She perused the ones already completed and on display at the millinery and did not find one to her liking.
Instead, she asked for a pencil and paper and drew a design on the spot, asking Mrs. Johnson if it might be possible for her to make up one similar to her sketch.
The milliner agreed to do so, and they discussed the colors to be used.
Justina insisted on autumnal colors: rust, along with a golden yellow.
“I should have it ready for you by next Thursday, my lady,” Mrs. Johnson said.
“Thank you. I will call on you then,” she promised.
She also stopped at Mrs. Penny’s shop. The dressmaker greeted her with a warm embrace.
“How do you fare, my lady?”
“There are good days and bad ones,” she admitted. “But the good are beginning to outweigh the bad.”
“Grief can get hold of you and squeeze you tightly,” Mrs. Penny said. “Don’t let anyone tell you how to grieve. Do it your way.” She smiled. “Lady Traywick was always so proud of the three of you. I know she is watching over you, even now.”
“I think so, too,” she said softly. “But I am here to purchase a new pair of riding gloves. Mine are growing threadbare.”
“Yes, you haven’t had new ones in a good, long while,” Mrs. Penny agreed, showing Justina what she had in stock.
She chose a pair of tan ones, slipping them onto her hands and flexing her fingers. “Yes, these will do nicely.”
“I’ll wrap them up for you,” the dressmaker said.
“No need. I shall simply slip them into my reticule.”
She folded them in half. Opening the drawstring of her reticule, she set them inside. Then she tightened the drawstring again. “Thank you, Mrs. Penny.”
“You may come anytime, my lady.”
The last place she went was to Mr. Shaft’s shop. He always had an interesting assortment of goods, so she would take her time browsing before selecting her paints, keeping in mind what she wished to paint next.
When she entered the store, she heard a great deal of hammering coming from above her and asked, “What on earth is going on, Mr. Shaft?”
“Ah, good morning, Lady Justina. I have not seen you in a while. How is Lord Traywick?”
“He is well. Thank you for asking. But what is all the commotion?”
The shopkeeper went to the door and motioned her to go outside. Justina accompanied him, the noise not deafening outside the shop.
“Renovations are going on, my lady,” Mr. Shaft said proudly. “Many new changes are coming.”
Curiosity filled her. “Such as?”