Coming Home (8 page)

T
WO DAYS LATER their hired carriage rumbled through the busy streets of Southampton and swung on to the Bristol road. Juliana sat with her new maid, Tilly, on one side of the carriage, and Colly and his greatcoat lounged in solitary splendour on the other.

Juliana eyed him. He looked every inch the man about town now. His uniforms were stuffed into his portmanteau and he was wearing clothes he had purchased in Portsmouth and Southampton. It seemed he intended to set his army days behind him. Portsmouth might not boast such exalted tailors as London, but they had done a very good job with Mr Colwyn Hetherington – very good indeed. He looked delectable enough to eat. Biscuit-coloured pantaloons stretched over muscular thighs; a plain dove-grey waistcoat hugged his chest (she was jealous of it), and the boots – ah, the boots! The new black boots looked magnificent on his long legs. Sigh.

His demeanour now was a far cry from when she had first met him, so long ago. Her gazed fixed on his boots, she remembered how he had been brought to the hospital on a litter by several of his men. Belligerent, his arms flailing in all directions, he had kept demanding, ‘Who took it? Where is it?'

She had been unable to get near him to check the sabre wounds on his thigh and chest, so when one of his fists jabbed her in the eye, she had tipped a very large dose of laudanum down his throat.

She smiled to herself and stroked her new parasol. He had replaced her broken one with a beautifully crafted lightweight parasol with trailing yellow ribbons on the handle. Ribbons? She always thought of herself as a practical woman, but Colly must see her in a different light. She leaned forward.

‘Thank you for the parasol,' she said. ‘I do not think, in the haste of the moment, that I thanked you. And for the' – she glanced at Tilly – ‘other things.' Including those three dark-eyed little pansies, now nestling inside her hatbox.

‘Not at all. When you stopped stammering, you thanked me very prettily,' he said, grinning.

‘I'm sorry. I was quite overcome. I've not received any presents for some time, you see.'

He cleared his throat and looked out the window. ‘The weather is fine and we should make good time, Miss Colebrook.'

She nodded her understanding. She wasn't nodding because she trusted his estimate of the road conditions. She was nodding because she understood she had become ‘Miss Colebrook' again.

‘Is this mode of travel to your liking? It was the best available,' he explained.

She laughed. ‘Sir, it is luxurious. Far, far better than the donkeys we used between Coimbra and Porto. They were so old and slow we walked faster than they did. Of course with a war on, “no horses could be spared for a fool woman and her maid travelling through countryside occupied by opposing forces”.' She pulled a face. Then she stopped as she remembered how correct that prediction had been.

‘Is that what everyone said?'

She straightened her back. ‘Not everyone. Some people were most kind. My father's friend said that when I told him I wanted to offer my nursing services in Porto.'

Colly's gloved hand, lying carelessly on the seat beside him, curled and uncurled.

‘Did he not offer to house you after your father died?'

‘No.'

 

Colly surveyed Juliana's face. That single word told him a lot about her father's crony. Philip Colebrook and his friend must have had similar natures.

‘Would you have stayed if he'd offered?' he enquired.

‘No. I might have stayed if he'd been kind. But he didn't like me and I didn't like him. I could not have borne being an obligation in his household.'

Colly reflected that she might well be stepping into that same situation here in England. He must find a way to keep in contact with her. It was a pity the new maid, Tilly, was a naïve country girl. She would be unable to write, so he could not ask her to send him word if Juliana needed him.

Then he sneered at himself. Huh! Just what did he, an accused rapist, think he could do if she needed his help anyway? Beg his employers for time off and come riding like a knight to his lady's
rescue? Not bloody likely. Even if he did that, he'd be sure to do the wrong thing.

He hunched a shoulder and stared out the window.

 

When they arrived at Trewbridge, Juliana expected to take the carriage straight on to Melksham. However, as they drew up in front of the most impressive house she had ever seen, servants came running and she and Colly were escorted inside by an insistent butler who exclaimed, ‘Sir! Brigade-Major Hetherington, may I say how very pleasant it is to see you again?' The man beamed from ear to ear and his bow was so low it was almost obsequious, if such a stately character could be obsequious.

‘Hello, Twoomey. The bad penny returns, you see.'

‘Not at all, sir. We have been awaiting your arrival with much anticipation. '

Juliana smothered a giggle. The pompous butler spoke as if he were the hospitable master of the house. Struggling to contain her laughter, she caught Colly's eye. His lips twitched.

‘Colly! At last!'

Colly spun around and held out his hand. ‘John! Or do I call you Brechin now?' he enquired mischievously.

‘That's enough from you, thanks.' John pumped his arm.

Juliana realized that she did indeed remember John, Lord Brechin. He was the quiet man with the sabre slash down the side of his neck. She tended to recall her patients' wounds and illnesses rather than their names.

The two men laughed and slapped each other's backs and for a moment she felt left out.
How
she wished she had friends like that.

Then John Trewbridge recollected his manners. He bowed. ‘
Bom dia, Señorita Colebrook
. I apologize for our rudeness.'

‘Not at all,' she murmured. She hoped Colly appreciated what a good friend he had. No doubt Lord John would have Colly enmeshed in the goings-on at Trewbridge in no time at all and Colly would soon forget the nurse he had befriended for a short time.

She swallowed and raised her chin. She would carve out a good life for herself with her uncle's family and be content. Most of the time, anyway.

D
INNER AT TREWBRIDGE was like nothing Juliana had experienced. After the first dinner bell everyone assembled in the large drawing room, a well-appointed salon with solid oak furniture and intricately embroidered wall hangings. She had thought her own bedchamber was beautiful – indeed, she mentally echoed Tilly's awed ‘Ooh, miss!' – but it paled into insignificance beside this quiet elegance.

Lord Brechin's new wife was not at all what Juliana had expected. Many of the sick officers she nursed had told her about the strictness of English society. They'd explained how a young woman of unblemished character could overnight become a target for the gossipmongers because her father had been found cheating at cards, or her sister had eloped to marry a man ‘beyond the pale'. Juliana was mindful that her background might not pass muster.

Marguerite Trewbridge was a forthright young woman with a lush figure and a slight limp. When Colly introduced them Marguerite inclined her head politely, then abandoned all pretence of formality. She stepped forward, smiling, and said, ‘I have been most anxious to meet you, Miss Colebrook. My husband tells me you've been nursing soldiers on the Peninsula. You must be very brave. How did you begin such a thing?'

Juliana relaxed. This was no formal, chilly aristocrat. ‘My grandparents sent me to a convent school. The sisters did not believe in idleness and trained us all according to our abilities,' she answered shyly. She could feel Colly eavesdropping from across the room. Although he appeared to be listening to a discussion between the marquess and Lord Brechin, Juliana knew from his attentively cocked head that he had overhead Lady Brechin's question.

‘Oh dear, that would dish me,' Lady Brechin exclaimed. ‘I have no particular talent for anything.'

‘I'm sure that's not true, Lady Brechin.'

‘Please call me Marguerite. We've only recently acquired the title and
when someone says Lady Brechin it takes me a minute or two to realize they're talking to
me
.'

Juliana grinned. Marguerite was a very down-to-earth young woman. She had about her an air of industry, of wanting to get on with the task at hand.

And the Marchioness of Trewbridge was another such. Threading her arm through Juliana's, the imperious little lady drew both young women aside and murmured, ‘We will have a comfortable coze after dinner, ladies.' Then she bustled off to her husband's side to hear what Colly was saying.

Well, if all English people were as delightful as this, Juliana thought, she would have no difficulty making friends. She hoped her uncle's family was the same.

Lord Brechin's Portuguese was fluent. He had winkled the history of the Ervedosa family out of her and expressed his sympathy that she did not know where in Brazil her relatives lived. As she sipped the excellent sherry the butler had handed her, the anxious knot in Juliana's stomach eased.

Closing her eyes for a moment in blissful enjoyment of the excellent sherry, she opened them to find the marquess standing at her side, regarding her with amusement. ‘Miss Colebrook, we have not yet been introduced. I am Trewbridge.'

She bobbed a curtsy. ‘My lord,' she murmured, taking the proffered hand. For a bad moment the sherry glass was in peril, but she managed to swap it to her left hand without mishap. Thank goodness she had dressed in her best Italian crepe. She knew the restrained jade-green colour suited her, and although her gloves had seen better days, she hoped the marquess would not notice. However, she had an idea that this man noticed everything. Shrewd, sharp grey eyes travelled over her swiftly and returned to her face.

‘I am pleased you find our sherry palatable, Miss Colebrook.' He smiled. ‘I regard you as a connoisseur since Colly tells me you have spent much of your life in Portugal.'

‘My mother was Portuguese, my lord.'

He inclined his head. ‘So John told me. I believe you have lost touch with your Portuguese family, Miss Colebrook. That is unfortunate because family is very important.'

Juliana speared a triumphant glance at Colly, who was hovering nearby.

‘I have been telling Mr Hetherington that for some time,' she said.

Colly came to stand beside her. ‘On the other hand, my lord, family can be the most destructive force in one's life,' he interposed.

The marquess flicked him a glance. ‘I would have to agree with that too, Colly. The most important, but sometimes the most destructive influence in one's life, Miss Colebrook. I stand corrected.'

Juliana's jaw dropped. That was the
last
thing she had expected the marquess to say. For a moment even Colly looked shocked, then he rallied. ‘I'm glad you agree, my lord. Miss Colebrook has a yearning for family, you see.'

Juliana bristled.

Then the second dinner gong sounded. Colly exhaled carefully and the marquess threw back his head and laughed. He leaned towards Colly and murmured, ‘Saved by the bell, Colly.' Then he moved forward to take his wife's arm. ‘I believe dinner is served,' he said, still chuckling to himself.

Colly proffered his arm to Juliana. As they followed the Trewbridges in to dinner, Juliana barely allowed her gloved fingers to touch Colly's sleeve. She was still seething at his uncalled for comment about relatives. Couldn't he understand that the closer she got to her English relatives, the more apprehensive she became?

Once seated, she stared at the array of silverware in front of her and hoped she could find the correct knives and forks for each course. At least the soup spoon was easy enough.

‘Ah … Miss Colebrook?' The marchioness was trying to attract her attention. ‘We should love to have you stay on at Trewbridge for a few days, my dear.'

Leaving her soup untouched, Juliana stared at the vivacious little lady in concern. ‘Oh! That is very kind of you, your ladyship, but ah … I believe my aunt and uncle are expecting me.' Well, she'd written to them as soon as they'd landed at Portsmouth so she
hoped
they expected her.

The marchioness waved a careless hand, narrowly missing a footman as he took away her soup plate. ‘Notes can be written,' she said. ‘Marguerite and I are desperate for female company and you are the sort of person we admire. You have
done
something with your life, Miss Colebrook.' The Marchioness of Trewbridge nodded her head approvingly, and the circlet of pearls adorning her hair twinkled and bobbed in the bright candlelight.

It was the pearls that decided it. ‘Thank you, my lady, but I must not,' Juliana said. She was wearing her only evening dress. Tilly had done her best with it, but it did not measure up to the glorious dresses of the two other ladies at the table. Nor had she any pearls, or indeed jewellery of any sort, merely her mother's hair combs and rings. She simply did not belong here.

And, thanks to Colly's continued pessimism, she was beginning to worry about the reception she would receive from Uncle Sholto and his family. Seventeen years ago she had seen Uncle Sholto as a kindlier version of her father. Being twins, the two had looked much alike. But thanks to Colly's continual harping, she had to acknowledge that she knew very little about her uncle and dared not run the risk of displeasing him.

Of course she'd rather stay at Trewbridge. Anyone would. And although she was cross with Colly at the moment she still wanted to see that all went well for him. The Trewbridges obviously liked him, but employing a man who had been accused of rape by his own father was a different matter.

‘
Oh, for heaven's sake
,' she told herself under her breath. ‘
What do you think you can do if they change their minds about Colly
?'

No, she must not stay here any longer, no matter how hard the marchioness pressed her. It was no business of Juliana's what Brigade-Major Hetherington did with his life. He had made it plain that he found her resistible. Not the sort of thing a woman needed to know.

‘It is a shame you cannot stay, but I understand,' the marchioness said with a sweet smile. And she probably did understand, Juliana reflected. The marchioness, like her husband, had shrewd eyes. Juliana was not at all surprised when the marchioness waylaid her outside the dining room when the ladies rose to leave the gentlemen to their port.

‘Now, my dear. Come into the drawing room and tell me about these relatives of yours.'

Lady Brechin tossed Juliana an apologetic glance and walked over to the piano to sort through the sheet music inside the piano stool.

‘I do not know much about them, my lady,' Juliana explained. ‘All I know is that my uncle – he is my father's twin brother – kindly offered me a home some time ago. When I sent them news of Papa's death, I mentioned that I very much wished to return to England. I didn't hear from them for months and then they wrote and offered me a home. But I had begun work at Sao Nazaire by then, and Dr Barreiro was not prepared to release me. Later, I discovered that finding a way to return to England was very difficult. Thank goodness for Brigade-Major Hetherington,' she added a trifle incoherently. ‘Of course, I will find an occupation straight away. I must not be a charge on my family.'

Her stomach began its familiar after-dinner churning and she pressed a hand over it protectively. Perhaps she could escape to her room before the pains got too bad. She should not have eaten so much, but after two weeks of ship's fare, the food had been remarkably good.

‘Hmm.'

What did that ‘hmm' mean, Juliana wondered?

‘Would your uncle be Sholto Colebrook, by any chance?' the marchioness enquired.

Something in the lady's demeanour puzzled Juliana and made her cautious. ‘Why, yes. Do you know him?'

‘I know of him. After all, he is more or less a neighbour. You will be able to visit us whenever you wish, Miss Colebrook.' The marchioness laid her hand over Juliana's. ‘And if you are ever in any trouble, please come straight to us. Promise me.'

The little lady was so insistent that Juliana stammered, ‘Yes, ma'am. You are very kind.'

‘Just pragmatic, my dear. You are almost alone in the world. Sometimes we need friends more than relatives.'

Juliana's heart drooped. For many months she had looked forward to arriving on the Colebrooks' doorstep and being hailed as their long-lost niece. She had thought no further than that. But she had not missed the marchioness's differentiation between knowing someone and knowing
of
someone. What did the Marchioness of Trewbridge know about the Colebrooks?

‘If I find employment, it might be difficult for me to visit,' she said. ‘I know nothing about working conditions in England.'

She glanced up in time to see the marchioness open her mouth and shut it again. Puzzled, she glanced across at Lady Brechin. But Marguerite's head was bowed as she fingered a page of manuscript before placing it on the music stand.

‘Tell me, Juliana – may I call you Juliana? – what is wrong with Colly? When he came to us before he was a trifle bitter, but at least he was relaxed. He seems very tense and worried this time. Has something happened?'

‘I couldn't say, your ladyship, uh …'

The marchioness smiled. ‘What you mean is that you know, but you will not break a confidence. Never mind. We will sort it out.' The lady nodded as if it were all settled. ‘Since we cannot persuade you to stay any longer, I will arrange for the carriage to take you to Melksham tomorrow morning.'

Thank goodness. Juliana had been cudgelling her brains over how she was to get to Uncle Colebrook's house.

‘Ah, here are the gentlemen,' the marchioness said.

Juliana examined Colly's face. He
did
look strained. He needed to make a clean breast of the accusation against him as soon as possible.

‘Miss Colebrook is to leave us tomorrow,' the marchioness announced.

Juliana swallowed.

The marquess raised his eyebrows. ‘Does Trewbridge not meet with your approval, Miss Colebrook?'

‘My lord, hardly! Trewbridge is very beautiful,' she replied. ‘It is not that, but from now on I am reliant upon my uncle's hospitality. I cannot afford to upset him by starting out on the wrong foot. No doubt he expected me to arrive today.'

‘You must say that we detained you, Miss Colebrook. That should suffice,' the marquess replied in a cool, cynical tone.

Juliana was taken aback to discover that the marquess and marchioness plainly disliked her family. However, she understood that in the country small misunderstandings between neighbours sometimes grew out of all proportion. Perhaps her uncle had done or said something of which the Trewbridges did not approve. Heavens, she hoped her uncle was not like her father. He had forever been at outs with someone.

‘Anyway, Marguerite and I are determined to call upon you,' the marchioness said, smiling. ‘We shall be interested to see how you are going on.'

Marguerite nodded her agreement. ‘Do not think you are without friends, Miss Colebrook.'

Lord Brechin strolled over to the piano and twirled one of Lady Brechin's loose curls around his finger. Marguerite sparkled up at him as he bent over her and she reached up a hand to trace the scar on the side of his neck with two fingers. Juliana stared enviously. Lucky Marguerite.

She looked across the room at Colly and surprised a despondent, brooding look on his face as he watched the couple. But the second he felt her glance, he altered his expression to a polite smile.

Dearest Colly, let it go
, she thought.
You could be happy like that too
. Not with Juliana, of course. She was not a suitable bride for Brigade-Major Colwyn Hetherington.

The Hetheringtons were fools to have hurt him so badly. She understood his pride but she hoped he would not carry the bitterness forever. It was not good for him, and if ever a man deserved happiness and good fortune, it was Brigade-Major Hetherington. Somewhere, if he managed to slough off the shame eating away at his pride, a lucky woman waited for him. If he showed willing, there would be a bevy of giggling young ladies anxious to secure his hand in marriage, damn
them. And whoever was lucky enough to take his eye – well, she would have a considerate lover and a charming companion who would always see she was safe and comfortable. Closing her eyes for a moment Juliana remembered the warm fire of Colly's lovemaking. Yes, his bride would be
very
lucky.