In the Garden of Disgrace (22 page)

“Not yet.”

“I’ll see to that as well,” he said,
standing. At the door he turned. “And, Jillian?”

The sound in his voice worried her again.
“Yes?”

“I’m dealing with a suspicion only, I admit,
but I think your relationship with Wickham has gone further than
either of you are willing to admit. I want you to know I’ll be
watching, and I expect a respectable conclusion to this
affair.”

*****

“How are you feeling, Auntie?”

Prudence, eyes red-rimmed with fatigue,
looked at Jillian. “I’m all right, dear. I’m not used to traveling
but I’m certain I’ll feel better when I’ve had a chance to
rest.”

Jillian was tired herself. The trip to Bath
had been onerous with Pru protesting most of the way. She knew her
aunt did not feel well, for the old woman was normally a pleasant
person when not in pain. They had waited a
sennight
for the
swelling in her joints to go down before starting their journey,
and though better Pru said her shoulder still ached miserably.

“These lodgings Simon found for us are very
nice, don’t you think?” Jillian asked.

The house was situated on a quiet street in
a respectable neighborhood not far from the center of social life,
and she already felt comfortably ensconced as she made her aunt
cozy on the settee in the small sitting room.

“It’s not home but it will do. I’m just so
happy to be out of that carriage. Has your brother departed
yet?”

Jillian nodded. “He supervised the unloading
of the luggage, spoke to the servants then left immediately. You
know how he hates to be away from Cassandra and the baby.”

“He’s a fine husband,” Prudence said, “which
has surprised me, for he was quite a scamp before he made the
decision to grow up. That gives me hope for your young man.”

That old refrain, she thought rebelliously.
Jillian had not seen Adrian in nine days—had she been
counting?—probably would never see him again, but her aunt insisted
his absence was temporary. Of course, Prudence had not seen the
earl’s face that day after the argument. She wished she hadn’t seen
it either.

She kept remembering his offended
expression, the anger that had been quickly concealed behind
indifference. Did she have the power to hurt him? Did he really
care what she thought, this handsome man who could have his pick of
eager ladies?

One thing had afforded her some relief. Her
menses had arrived. Now she need not worry about another disgrace.
And yet the poignant longing that had overcome her when she
realized she would not be a mother had taken her by surprise.
Perhaps Simon was right. Perhaps there was a void in her life. Too
bad she had made that discovery when it was too late.

“Jillian?”

She brought her attention back to her aunt.
“Yes?”

“I don’t want you to feel that you must
accompany me everywhere I go. I have friends and can entertain
myself. As I told you before we left, it wasn’t even necessary for
you to come.”

Jillian looked at Aunt Pru, uncertain what
the older lady meant by that remark. “I won’t be an embarrassment
to you, Auntie, I promise. I’ll stay out of sight as much as
possible.”

Prudence’s face turned a mottled red. “Is
that what you think?” she asked in an angry voice, “that I’m
embarrassed to be seen with you? I’m an old woman. I could not care
less what people may think.”

Her niece continued to look at her,
unconvinced.

“All right, I’ll admit I’m worried but not
for the reason you imagine. Jillian, my dear, I don’t want you to
be hurt. I have no idea how people are going to react. But past
experience would indicate they may be hard on you. However, I’m not
without influence, and,” here she paused as her eyes narrowed,
“I’ll protect you as far as I am able. I can give the cut for
transgressions against my niece as well as take it. So if you’ve
the courage to try then so have I.”

Jillian felt her throat tighten. “Oh,
Auntie,” she said, coming to kneel by the settee as she took Pru’s
hand, “I do love you. I appreciate your concern, and I will
probably need your help from time to time. But I think it best if I
remain in the background. We’re here to get you well, and I don’t
intend to lose sight of that. I will tell you, though,” she winked
at the older woman, “you can be most intimidating when you choose
to be. I’d hate if you gave me the cut direct.”

Prudence nodded at her sagely. “My point
exactly, dear.”

*****

Jillian ran nervous fingers over the skirt
of her new lavender gown and, taking her aunt’s arm, entered Bath’s
Great Pump Room where one could socialize, see and be seen while
sipping on the healing waters.

It had taken her nearly a week to gather her
courage to venture into a public place but, now that she was here,
she thought the gates of Hell would be more inviting. She despised
her loss of nerve, hated that she cared for the opinions of others.
Even so, she clung to Prudence’s arm as though she were in danger
of spilling to the floor without her aunt’s support.

“Do you see your friends, Auntie?” Jillian
asked, ashamed of the high-pitched sound in voice.

“Now, now, dear, I’m sure they are here. Be
patient. These old eyes don’t see as well as they once did,” Pru
said as she continued to survey the room. “Oh, look, there they
are.”

She glanced where her aunt indicated and
spotted two elderly women, Lady Alice Henry and Miss Cordelia
Barnstable, sitting at a table under a large palm, both of them
waving hankies and trilling “yoo hoo!”

As they began their trek across the Pump
Room, Jillian queried anxiously, “Are you certain they won’t be
embarrassed to be seen with me? I don’t wish to upset anyone.”

“Silly girl, I told you, you need not worry
about Alice and Cordelia. I made it clear that I expected you to be
treated with respect, or I would not be able to associate with my
old friends. Actually,” Prudence whispered in a conspiratorial
voice, “I explained how you had suffered through no fault of your
own, and before I was done they were quite sympathetic.”

At that point they reached the table, and
Jillian was prevented from having to express her views that she was
at least guilty of bad judgment. Just as well, she supposed, for
Aunt Pru, stalwart supporter that she was, had always held her
niece to be blameless and refused to acknowledge any other
viewpoint.

“Lady Alice, Cordelia, this is my niece,
Lady Jillian Fitzgerald,” Prudence said to her friends.

The two ladies stood, nodding and murmuring
a greeting, both wearing an identical expression of graciousness
laced with curiosity. Lady Alice was thin and spare with
corresponding bird-like features. Cordelia, on the other hand, was
perhaps the largest woman Jillian had ever seen, not only in height
but in girth. She also had a kind face which was very
reassuring.

Jillian exchanged hand clasps with each
woman, and Aunt Pru and she joined them at their table. A waiter
approached at that moment and her aunt ordered a glass of mineral
water, encouraging her niece to do the same.

“No thank you. Papa brought me here when I
was a girl, and I tasted the waters at that time. As I recall, I
made a promise then and there never to allow that foul liquid to
touch my lips again.” Jillian smiled at the three older ladies.
“Can’t break my word to myself.” To the waiter she said, “Tea,
please.”

“Wise girl,” Cordelia said, and she
shuddered delicately, an amazing accomplishment for such a mammoth
person. “I force myself to drink the waters for I’ve been told,”
she dropped her voice dramatically, “they can help one lose
weight.”

Jillian nodded politely, bereft of words,
but her regard shifted to scrawny Lady Alice. Hopefully the waters
had no such powers or that poor creature would disappear
altogether.

The conversation continued in that slightly
askew fashion, the older women talking animatedly, Jillian
listening. She allowed her gaze to roam the room but saw no one she
recognized. She did not know if anyone recognized her for she made
no eye contact. Instead she looked around people, over people, and
through people, never allowing her attention to linger. Jillian had
decided that if she gave no one the opportunity then no one could
snub her.

“Do you join us, Jillian?”

She looked at her aunt. “Join you?”

“We had planned to take a soak this
afternoon, my dear. My joints feel so much better after the warmth
of the spa.”

“I don’t think so. Will you be long?”

“Perhaps an hour?” Prudence glanced at her
friends for confirmation. “Yes, about an hour. What will you
do?”

“I thought you might want to bathe so I’m
prepared. I have a book from the lending library,” Jillian said,
reaching into her bag. “I’ll just read and sip tea. This is a nice
quiet table.”

Pru seemed to hesitate. “Are you
certain?”

“Of course.” She took her aunt’s hand and
gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I must step out from behind your
skirts sometime. Warm your joints. I’ll be right here when you
return.”

As Jillian watched the three old women
retreat, she acknowledged to herself that she did not feel as
confident as she had sounded. She was glad her table was in a
corner partially hidden by the palm. Probably she would go
unnoticed, she reasoned hopefully. The waiter refreshed her tea and
she opened her book. Within minutes she was lost in the story.

“Lady Jillian Fitzgerald? Is that you?”

She was shocked into awareness by the sound
of a masculine voice, vaguely familiar, as the shadow of a man fell
across the pages of her book. Her pulse leapt in anxiety as she
brought her gaze to the gentleman who loomed over her. She opened
her mouth to answer him but the words died in her throat.

“By Jove, it is you!” he said. “Lord, woman,
you’re more beautiful than I remember.”

“Lionel?” she croaked at last.

“In the flesh.” The Marquess of Edgeworth
beamed at her, tall, blonde-haired and gray-eyed, as handsome as
she remembered. “I was afraid you might have forgotten me.”

Forgotten him?—How could she forget a man
she had almost married? She stared at him, too discomposed to
speak.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to join
you?”

Jillian nodded at the chair opposite her,
heart still thumping erratically. Yet despite her loss of composure
she was just spirited enough to ask him a pointed question.

“Are you certain you wish to be seen with
me?”

He winced. Sitting down, he said, “I deserve
that. I was hoping after all these years you might have forgiven
me.”

Lionel smiled at her, that wonderful smile
she had found so endearing when she was an infatuated young
girl.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She met his
gaze firmly, coolly, determined that he believe her. Her pride
would allow nothing less.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said slowly. “I
thought…well, I had reason to believe…anyway, I’m glad to hear
it.”

“How is Meredith?” she asked, suddenly
feeling more in control as she realized he was less so.

His attitude became sullen as he studied the
fingernails on his right hand. “She does well, I suppose. We’re
not—how should I put this?—we’re not as compatible as I had hoped.
She wanted children, which hasn’t happened. She’s grown embittered,
and I’ve become less and less tolerant of her disappointment.” He
brought his attention back to her face. “To be honest, I consider
the marriage a failure.”

Jillian fidgeted in her chair, uncomfortable
with his disclosures. “Do you think you ought to be confiding in me
like this, my lord? It seems awfully disloyal to Merry.”

His gaze turned deeply earnest. “I’ve missed
you, Jillian. My God, I made the greatest mistake of my life when I
did not marry you. I can only be grateful that you have chosen to
forgive me, for I can’t forgive myself.”

“Come now, my lord, after all these years do
you really expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, I do, because it’s true.”

She huffed impatiently, ignoring the
impassioned plea in his words. “You did the right thing for you, my
lord, because you could never have endured the gossip. And you were
angry, very angry as I recall.”

“No, I was stupid, insensitive…jealous.” He
clenched his teeth. “Damned if it had been anyone but Wickham. I
couldn’t get past knowing that bastard had been alone with you. I
kept imagining…” he trailed off as he cleared his throat. “Women
found him irresistible. I never understood why.”

I do, Jillian thought, I most surely do. “I
told you the truth, my lord. Nothing happened.”

“I know that now. I think I knew it then. If
I’d had time to reconsider, but everything came about so quickly.
Your father insisted I make a decision immediately. I made the
wrong one.”

“Why are you telling me this now? There’s
nothing to be served by voicing your remorse. You made your
choice—we’ve both had to live with it.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve
grown hard over the years, Jillian. You were such a sweet, gentle
young woman. What’s happened to you?”

“The reality of life after a scandal
happened to me, my lord, and it’s not been easy. Even now I worry
about sitting in a public place, afraid that someone will feel the
need to prove to me that I am no longer worthy. I glance at the
ceiling, the floor, the fountains, anywhere but in the face of
another for fear of seeing scorn—or worse, that I don’t even exist
anymore.”

Lionel reached over and took her hand. “I’m
sorry,” he said in a gentle voice. “You have suffered.”

Embarrassed by the contact, Jillian eased
from his grasp. “It’s not your fault,” she said tightly as she
slipped her hand into her lap. “Your response was not
unexpected.”