Emily Hendrickson (4 page)

Since the gentleman was no more than in his thirties and certainly not immune to the charm of a pair of fine amber-hued eyes, he hastened to offer his services in garden planning.

When the ladies adjourned to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port and conversation, Mrs. Ogleby sought out Juliet.

“I am so pleased you appeared to get on well with Mr. Wyllard. Poor man, his wife died a few years ago, and he has been quite the solitary gentleman since then.”

“He offered to assist me with planning a garden, for I know not what best to plant here. I trust that past plantings may be uncovered and perhaps restored. I do enjoy this sort of thing,” Juliet said with quiet enthusiasm.

Mrs. Tackley joined them at this point, and Mrs. Ogleby turned to address her. “Caroline, you must agree with me that it will be a lovely thing for the gardens at Hawkswood to be restored to their past glory. Lady Hawkswood intends to undertake the task. Poor dear, it is a daunting prospect. I am so pleased that Mr. Wyllard has offered to help her. And”—Mrs. Ogleby gave Caroline Tackley a knowing look—”I believe it to be a kindness to poor Mr. Wyllard, get him out of that house and doing something once again.”

“Indeed, Fanny, I do agree.”

“I trust there will be no impropriety in his assisting me,” Juliet said with an endearing little frown. “I’d not have the poor gentleman mortified by gossip.”

“Never fear, my dear,” Mrs. Ogleby said with a glance at Caroline Tackley. “We shall be in a position to stop it at once should we hear a whisper of insinuation. Is that not so, Caroline?” Looking at Juliet, Mrs. Ogleby added, “Mrs. Tackley is always knowing of the very latest that goes on in this area. She can be relied upon to scotch any hint of impropriety.”

“I flatter myself that others listen to what I say and are guided by my suggestions,” Mrs. Tackley said without a trace of pomposity. “Never fear, dear Lady Hawkswood, we shall guard your reputation—as well as Mr. Wyllard’s.”

Juliet felt as though she had waded through a swamp of verbiage, but a very necessary wade for all that. Kindly Mrs. Ogleby had most neatly obtained the aid of the worst gossip in Woodbury if Juliet knew anything about the matter. Having lived in a village atmosphere all her life, she well knew the power of a gossip, in particular one who was persuasive and convincing. Scandal broth was undoubtedly Mrs. Tackley’s drink of life.

The following days brought a few changes. The various ladies came to call, enchanted to be invited to remain for tea and further conversation. Juliet was most careful to mention that Mr. Wyllard had graciously agreed to assist her with planning the gardens. She was inspired to add, “I am certain that my husband will be happy to see the gardens restored,” giving the impression that her only wish was to please Lord Hawkswood.

That the ladies went home convinced that poor Lady Hawkswood was most hard done by and that her husband was an utter fool was unknown to Juliet, for not a word of their opinion returned to haunt her ears.

As to her relationship with George Wyllard, she was surprised to discover that they fell into easy conversation and very soon developed a casual bantering. It was the sort of friendship she had longed to know and thought Mrs. Ogleby an angel for her introduction.

“It appears that this bed contained perennials, perhaps daisies and aquilegia, foxglove and wallflowers—that sort of thing,” George suggested one morning when they tackled the worst of the flower beds.

“Hmm, I suspect you have the right of it. I believe I see some foxglove leaves even now, and certainly that must be a daisy struggling to survive?” she queried.

“And do you agree that these other two were likely rose beds?” he added with a gesture toward a particularly thorny collection of plants.

“Indeed, I do agree. Oh, I am so pleased to have your help. The man Mrs. Basset located for me, Mr. Lumpkin, is quite good at digging, but no help at all when it comes to what I ought to plant.” Juliet smiled at Mr. Wyllard and thought what a very agreeable person he was. Well to look at and nice to visit with, he was most soothing to her feelings. “Come, let us return to the house and look at the garden catalogs once again. They are so enticing with all those charming names for familiar plants.”

If George Wyllard thought Juliet was extraordinarily charming in her fetching green muslin and a clever little chip hat worn especially for garden work, he gave no hint.

“A cup of tea would be welcome, my lady.”

“I appreciate your company,” Juliet said over their cups of bohea tea. “I feel the lack of close friends very deeply, you see.” She offered him a ginger cream and sighed at the constrained life she lived.

“Your husband?” Mr. Wyllard offered hesitantly. “He remains in London?”

“I suppose so.
I
do not know him so very well, but I expect he finds country life terribly dull,” she said in a vast understatement of the facts. “Some people do, you know. For myself, I wish nothing more than a garden and my harp.”

“You do play, then? I was not certain that the presence of a harp meant you played it. I favor the clavichord myself,” he said modestly.

“Oh,” Juliet cried with delight and jumped up from her chair, running to the canterbury to hunt through the music. “There are several pieces here for clavichord and harp. Would you give me the pleasure of playing with me? I vow it would be most pleasing.”

Mr. Wyllard set aside his cup and saucer to rise from the chair drawn close to where Juliet had sat and joined her. Perusing the first of the music, he took it to the clavichord and began to lightly play the melody.

“Very nice, I should think. I believe I am somewhat acquainted with this piece.” He turned to give her a shy smile, and she returned it in kind.

“Well, then, shall we have a try at it?” She positioned herself by the harp and waited for him to commence. Shortly, the house was filled with the sounds of two fine musicians in total harmony. If there was a missed note or sour chord, it made no matter. There were none to hear except Mrs. Bassett and Cook, who thought it above all things wonderful.

When they had finished, Juliet sat quietly, her hands in her lap while she mulled over the duet. Then her face cleared, and she said with a sunny look, “I believe I should like to do this often, if we might. Think how we may amaze the others when we offer our music for their entertainment.”

“You would have a party here? It is difficult to cart that harp about, and not everyone possesses such an instrument,” Mr. Wyllard reminded her.

“Why not?” Juliet crowed with delight. “I owe a goodly number of people dinners and the like. What an excellent suggestion.”

And so Juliet planned her little party, wishing she had the redoubtable Miss Pritchard to advise her on a number of things. Mrs. Bassett proved to be enormously helpful, however, and Juliet soon felt more at ease with her preparations.

As well, she began to work with the ladies of the church, tending to calling on the poor and ailing as her own mother had been accustomed to doing. The property was too small to have tenants, but Juliet felt as though she was expected to do some charity work, and she could see how well her efforts were received.

“Poor Mr. Taunton,” Mrs. Ogleby said one day, startling Juliet half out of her mind. “He’s an elderly gentleman quite ignored by his relatives in spite of the fact that they will be happy to receive his fortune when he dies.”

Relaxing a trifle, Juliet inquired carefully, “This Mr. Taunton has a son or nephew perhaps?”

“Indeed, a scapegrace of a nephew who never sets his eyes on the place from one end of the year to the other, for all he wants the inheritance.” Mrs. Ogleby looked rather fierce at the notion of so contemptible a man.

“What a pity,” Juliet replied softly, sorry for anyone related to the odious Robert Taunton in any manner.

“We shall visit him on the morrow. I feel sure a call from you will cheer his day considerably.”

Juliet forced a wan smile to her lips, thinking that he wouldn’t know the half of the matter.

Her duty call went well. Old Mr. Taunton would delight his nephew before too long, for it was clear he had not very long to live.

She was thankful that none of those upon whom she called with baskets of preserves or jars of soup were the sort to correspond with anyone in London. The very thought of having to part from this agreeable life was not to be considered. Then too, what Lord Hawkswood might say or do when he discovered her masquerade as his wife was too horrible to contemplate. He’d likely have her transported.

She pushed the disagreeable thought from her mind and prepared for her party. It would be her very first, which she confided to Mrs. Ogleby the day before the event.

“My dear girl,” Mrs. Ogleby cried, “how fortunate we are to be favored with the evening here. It has been many a year since the old lady entertained. I feel certain that your little dinner will bring back happy memories of days past. Do not worry about a thing; you will do just fine.”

Juliet had invited all the cream of Woodbury society, the very people she had met when she attended that first dinner at the Ogleby manor house. The dinner proceeded well, with Cook excelling herself for her dear viscountess, so happy was she with a chance to show off her cooking skills.

Mr. Wyllard and Juliet were a smashing success with their duet. Miss Tackley sang tolerably well with Mr. Wyllard playing nicely for her. In fact, Juliet thought she might promote an interest in that quarter if it proved possible.

After the music Juliet served a light supper, and the guests sat around happily gossiping or conversing—depending on their given nature.

“I told you not to worry in the least,” Mrs. Ogleby confided as she was about to depart with her husband. “If I do say so myself, Woodbury has a very elegant collection of agreeable people.”

“You are so right,” Juliet concurred, smiling with relief that the hurdle of entertaining so many had passed with what appeared to be reasonable success. She closed the door behind the last of them and wandered through the rooms, thinking that she was indeed lucky. Everything was utterly perfect.

“I intend to write the dowager viscountess and let her know what a nodcock her grandson is,” Mrs. Tackley divulged to her good friend and enemy, Mrs. Ogleby, as they were about to enter their respective carriages. “Imagine a talented and kind girl like that left to molder in the country without even one child to comfort her!”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Ogleby replied, not being on letter-writing terms with the elderly lady. “It would be good to see them together again.” If they ever were in the first place, she added silently, unknowing how close she came to the truth.

Chapter 3

The cream of London Society whirled about the Hetherton ballroom in a sedate waltz, revolving like so many leaves drifting from autumn trees. Alexander stared at the scene with a harried look, one that was hastily erased when he was approached by Lady Hetherton madly plying her fan.

“You naughty boy, never tell me that you have at last become betrothed to Camilla Shelford. Rumors are circulating to that effect, you must know.” She tapped him not too gently with her fan, a sign of her disapproval.

“I fear the rumor is grossly exaggerated, madam. I am not, nor will likely become engaged to Miss Shelford.” Alexander gave his hostess a speaking look, then resumed the bland expression he had worn since overhearing the latest rumor—an attempt, no doubt, by Miss Shelford to force him to the wall. The lady would find that he was made of sterner stuff than to yield so pitifully to her coercion. He would never marry her— not if he had to hide out in some godforsaken corner of the country.

“I am relieved to learn that,” Lady Hetherton said quietly, her ire defused now that she had heard from Alexander himself that there was no truth to the rumor. “I scarcely think you two would be the least suited. Whatever is the girl about to be so brazen? Does she not know that the truth of the matter will out, in effect ruining her?”

“I have come to believe she is slightly mad, my lady. She is determined to have me, and while I am flattered at her choice, I must decline any reciprocation of interest. I refuse to be trapped into marriage with any woman, least of all Miss Shelford.”

“She is here, you know. I could not deny her mother an invitation, for we have been friends this age and more. I do not wish to send you away, for you are quite the handsomest man here, but it might be safer on your part were you to leave. As a matter of fact, I would seriously think about traveling a bit. The rolling stone and all that, you know. If she can’t find you, she can scarcely trick you, can she?”

Alexander listened to the quietly spoken words, acknowledging that Lady Hetherton spoke nothing but the truth. “It galls me to be compelled to leave what promises to be a brilliant Season, my lady. My only consolation is that I did not miss your annual ball. If I must go, allow me a dance before I vanish.” Alexander summoned a smile for the older woman, who had always proven his friend.

Her eyes alive with mirth, she nodded her agreement and subtly guided Alexander to a corner of the ballroom far from where delicate, blond Camilla Shelford stood with her mother.

Later, on
his way to his rooms, Alexander stared out of the window of his carriage. This entire farce was growing beyond him. Come morning he would consult with his solicitor as to possible legal action should it prove necessary. Doubtless it would make him look a fool, but better that than marriage to the willful Camilla.

* * * *

The next morning Alexander made his way to the solicitor’s office at an hour that guaranteed Miss Shelford would still be abed. It did not take him long to present his dilemma to Mr. Small, who sat rubbing his gray-frosted side-whiskers all the while Alexander talked.

“I do not think it in your best interests to consider legal action. A cease and desist order could bring unpleasant notoriety. Could you not take a tour of your estates?”

Alexander was not one of those peers who neglected his land. Once the Season concluded, he spent his time inspecting each and every estate to keep the land and property in good heart. “She will likely follow me. I tell you, the girl is not right in her head.”