Swept Away (25 page)

“No!” Julia jumped off the bed and began to pace. “How can I marry him after all this? What
I've
done? What
he's
done? There's no hope for us! He hates me. How could I live the rest of my life with a man who hates me? No. It's impossible.” She turned, her eyes flashing. “I have too much pride to accept his charity. He would be able to hold it up to me my whole life, how he saved my good name by marrying me.”

She made a disgusted face.

“All right,” said Phoebe, who had been watching Julia's nervous movements with some anxiety. “Of course you don't have to marry him if you're set against it. I just thought—but we won't talk about it any more tonight.”

“Thank you.” Julia looked at her a little sheepishly. “I'm sorry. I hate this feeling of being forced…and I have despised him for so long.” Her voice dropped to a tormented whisper. “What if he didn't do it? Who else could it be? It wasn't Selby. It could not have been Selby.”

“No! No, of course it wasn't,” Phoebe assured her. “You must not think that way. Come. Let's go to bed now.”

Julia nodded, and climbed into the bed. They crawled under the cover in troubled silence and waited for sleep to come.

 

Julia awoke the next morning feeling hardly more rested than when she had gone to bed. She could not get the thought of marrying Stonehaven out of her mind, and it occurred to her that perhaps a walk after breakfast might help her to straighten out her thoughts.

She and Phoebe found Lady Stonehaven still at the table when they went into the breakfast room. The older woman greeted them with a smile.

“You've missed Deverel, I'm afraid. He left rather early this morning, with young Master Gilbert. I believe they were going to investigate possible fishing spots.” She turned her twinkling gaze on Julia. “Deverel was certain that you would wish to be included on their expedition, Julia, dear, but I managed to persuade him that you needed your sleep.”

Both Phoebe and Julia, who well knew Gilbert's lively nature early in the morning, laughed. “Thank you, ma'am,” Julia said with real gratitude.

“Poor man,” Phoebe added. “I wonder if he knows what he is in for.”

“Dev seems to be rather good with children,” his mother said with evident pride. “He got off to a bad start with poor Thomas, but I blame that largely on Thomas's mother. Pamela never liked him, you see, and when Thomas was young, she discouraged him being around Deverel.”

“That sounds like something Pamela would do,” Julia agreed. “Why did she dislike him? I always thought Pamela had a decided partiality for handsome men.”

“He is handsome, isn't he?” Lady Stonehaven agreed fondly. “Actually, I think it was Pamela's partiality for men that made her dislike him. Walter was Dev's best friend, and Deverel would never have done anything to hurt Walter.”

Phoebe's eyes widened. “You mean, you think Pamela made advances toward Lord Stonehaven?”

Teresa shrugged. “He never told me. But having seen the way Pamela acted around him, I have little doubt of what she wanted. She was hardly subtle in the way she flirted and hung on his arm at every opportunity. It was obvious to everyone except Walter, of course. I never could understand how such a nice man could be so smitten with her. Then she started acting very cold toward Deverel, and she obstructed his seeing Walter—coming down with an illness when Walter was about to come visit us, so that he couldn't leave Farrow, or deciding that they should go to Bath for a few weeks at a time when Dev was scheduled to go there. That sort of thing. It was obvious that something had made her furious at him. The only thing that I can think of is that she grew too bold and direct, and Dev turned her down.”

“Oh, my!” Phoebe looked shocked. “I can hardly believe it.”

Julia let out a snort of disgust. “I can. I can believe anything of that woman.”

“What woman?”

The three women turned toward the doorway to see Geoffrey standing there.

“Cousin Geoffrey!” Julia said, smiling. “I can scarcely believe my eyes. I thought you never rose before eleven.”

He rewarded her with a pained expression as he came forward into the room and sat down in the chair Lady Stonehaven indicated. “Normally that is the case.” He shook his head and sighed. “I had forgotten how noisy it is in the country.”

“Noisy?” Julia asked, her eyes brimming with laughter.

“Yes. All sort of rustlings and howls and things. Some bird hooting all night. As if that weren't enough, at the crack of dawn, a bunch of silly birds started twittering. Now, I ask you…”

Julia began to giggle, but Phoebe patted Geoffrey's hand and said commiseratingly, “You poor thing. Why don't I pour you a cup of coffee? Or would you prefer tea?”

“Coffee sounds like just the thing,” Geoffrey allowed, brightening a little. “It's no wonder people keep such dreadful hours in the country.”

“Yes, I know,” Lady Stonehaven said. “It seems to go against nature, doesn't it, getting up when the sun starts shining?”

“My point exactly.” Geoffrey beamed at her understanding and shot his giggling cousin a dark look. “No doubt you do not understand that, Julia, having always been far too lively. You probably love arising early.”

“Indeed, yes,” Julia agreed pertly. “It gives me so much more time to get into mischief.”

“Minx,” he replied without heat and set about assuaging his battered nerves by tucking into a hearty breakfast.

“Geoffrey, did you know that Lady Stonehaven is an artist?” Julia asked. She added, to Teresa, “Cousin Geoffrey is a collector of artworks.”

“Really? How delightful.”

Geoffrey smiled deprecatingly and said in explanation of this odd habit, “It's a restful sort of hobby.”

“I quite agree. So much more enjoyable than riding to the hounds, say.”

“Exactly.” Geoffrey gave a visible shudder.

“Lady Stonehaven does wonderful work,” Julia added. “You'll have to get her to show you around her studio later.”

“Really, my dear, you shall put me to the blush,” Lady Stonehaven protested.

“It's true. I have seen your paintings, remember, so you can't pretend that you are a mere dabbler.”

“No, I shan't do that. I am afraid I have far too much of the sin of pride. I shall be happy to show Mr. Pemberton my workroom, if he wishes to see it—and Lady Armiger, too.”

Both Phoebe and Geoffrey asserted that they were eager to see her work, and it was arranged that she would take them on a tour as soon as they finished eating. Julia bowed out of the expedition, since she had already seen the workroom, and said that she thought she would like a walk instead.

“That sounds delightful,” Lady Stonehaven told her. “Just follow the path through the garden, and it goes eventually into the trees. There's a pleasant grove or two, and a lovely brook running through them.”

Shortly after breakfast, Julia donned a chip straw hat and a light shawl, which Lady Stonehaven had recommended to combat the slight chill that sometimes prevailed in the wooded areas, and set off through the garden. She stopped to admire the roses and smell their sweet scent, then struck off along the path that led through the lower garden and into the grove of trees beyond.

It was not a heavily wooded area, for shafts of sunlight cut down through the trees, and, as Lady Stonehaven had said, there was a very pleasant grove. As a tree had fallen there in such as way as to provide a perfect seat, Julia sat down for a few minutes to lazily contemplate the dance of dust motes in the stream of sunlight slanting down through the trees. She had intended to think through her problems, but she found it difficult to concentrate. The air was too peaceful, even somnolent, and she found herself nodding off.

A loud crack brought Julia wide-awake, and she whirled around, looking for the cause. She expected to see some animal, or even a person who had stepped on a branch and broken it, but to her surprise there was nothing. She stood up, and as she did, there was another crack, and immediately after it, something thumped into the log where she had been sitting. Julia looked down at the log, amazed to see that a chunk of wood had been gouged out of it. At one end of the strip of freshly debarked wood, she saw a small metal ball lodged in the wood.

Someone had shot at her!

She stood for an instant, frozen, staring at the ball. Then she whirled and took off through the trees, screaming.

J
ulia ran like a deer, dodging around trees and leaping over rocks and fallen tree limbs. She half expected to hear someone crashing through the trees after her, but she heard nothing, even when she tripped and fell, knocking what little remaining breath she had out of her. She lay on the mossy ground, struggling to breathe, straining her ears to hear the sounds of pursuit. There were none.

Cautiously she sat up and looked around. The woods were still, except for the sounds of a few birds tweeting in the trees. A squirrel scampered across a tree limb and gazed down at her with bright eyes, its tail twitching. She told herself that this was far too normal a scene for anyone to be chasing through the woods after her with a gun.

No, two guns, she reminded herself. There had been two shots in succession, too quickly for someone to have reloaded. Surely he would not have had more pistols than that, and he would have had to stop to reload. With her taking off at top speed, perhaps he had not even bothered to follow her, knowing that his guns were empty. On the other hand, she thought, it could be that he had taken off after her immediately and was even now hiding out there somewhere, reloading his pistols and waiting for her to stand up again.

Instantly, she flopped back down. She wanted to curl up into a ball. But she knew she could not do that; it would only make her easier prey. She had to get away from here, had to return to the house.

Just as she sat up again, preparing to rise, she heard noises—the crunch of twigs and leaves beneath feet, a few low words. Julia panicked, looking around for someplace to hide.

“Hello!” came a male voice in the distance.

Julia turned in the direction from which she thought it had come, searching frantically.
Was her attacker trying to lure her out of hiding?

“Is anyone there? We heard screams. Is someone hurt?”

She froze. Was it someone who had heard her screams when she started running and had come to her rescue—or was it the person who had fired upon her? Moving as softly as she could, she stepped over a fallen tree branch and made her way to a large bush, wincing every time leaves crackled under her feet. She crept around to the other side of the bush and huddled down behind it, peering through its thick branches. She was, however, able to see almost nothing. Her back prickled as she thought of someone sneaking up behind her, and she turned her back to the thick bush, keeping a watch on the woods behind her.

“Hello!” came another drawn-out call.

“Hello!” piped up another voice, this one that of a young boy.

Gilbert! Julia shot to her feet.

“Can you hear me?” Was that Deverel's voice?

“Can you hear me?” came the child's voice again in laughing imitation of his elder.

“Gilbert!” Julia cried, starting in the direction of the voices. “Gilbert, is that you? Deverel?”

“Who's there? Julia?”

There were more noises in the distance, the heavy sound of running. Then, somewhat off to the right of where she had thought they were, she caught sight of a man leading a horse. Beside him was a pony with a small boy perched on top.

The boy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Aunt Julia!”

“Here!” Julia waved her arms over her head and began to hurry toward them. She didn't know when she had ever been so glad to see anyone.

“Julia!” Deverel saw her now and broke into a trot, his horse shambling along behind him.

In her relief, Julia ran straight to Deverel and leaped at him. He caught her, his arms wrapping tightly around her, and she clung to his neck. “I am so glad to see you! I was so scared!”

Deverel squeezed her against him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Julia. Julia.” His lips touched her skin, then her hair, then her cheek. Behind them, Gilbert was chanting her name in a happy singsong.

Finally Julia recalled that she was acting shamelessly in front of her nephew—not to mention hugging a man whom she despised—and she dropped her arms from around his neck.

“I'm sorry.”

He hesitated a moment before he released her, letting her slide back down to the ground. “What happened? We heard strange noises as we were riding back to the house, so we went looking for the source. Did something scare you? Were you lost?”

“I am…now,” Julia admitted. “I have no idea where I am. I just started running. Someone shot at me.”

“Shot
at
you!” Deverel looked thunderstruck. “Are you sure he was aiming at you?”

“Of course I'm sure,” Julia snapped, irritated. “The ball hit the log where I'd been sitting.”

“Bang! Bang!” Gilbert decided to make his contribution to the conversation from atop his pony. Pointing his finger like a pistol, he pretended to aim and fire all around him.

Deverel's brows drew together in a black scowl. “It's those damned poachers! They'll fire at anything that moves. I'll have their hides for this!”

Poachers!
Julia nearly sagged with relief. Of course, that was it. It had been an accident, a mistake. Why had she assumed that they had been trying to kill her? “Do you really think so?”

“Of course. What else could it have been?” He looked puzzled; then his face cleared. “Don't tell me you think someone was shooting at you
on purpose.
”

It sounded exceedingly foolish when he said it, and Julia blushed. “I—I don't know what I thought. It just scared me, and I ran.”

“Well, of course it did. I would say you'd be justified in being terrified by someone shooting at you, whether it was accidental or purposeful. I certainly would be.” He took her hand and picked up the reins he had dropped when she ran full tilt at him. “Come on, let's get back to the house. No doubt you could use a rest. I'll get my gameskeeper right on it. Where were you when they shot at you?”

“I don't know,” Julia admitted. “I'm not sure I could find it again. It was a clearing, the first one I came to after I started into the trees.”

They made their way out of the woods, and when they got beyond the trees, Deverel helped Julia mount his horse. They continued at a slow pace toward the house, and gradually Julia's nerves calmed. Looking back on it, she saw that Deverel must be right. The person who fired on her had surely done it by accident. It was absurd to think that anyone would try to kill her. No one had any real grudge against her—except Deverel, of course, but since he could easily have gotten rid of her by sending her home and was instead insisting that she marry him, it seemed unlikely that he would try to kill her. Besides, he had been out with her nephew this morning—and anyone who knew anything about youngsters would never attempt something secretive with a six-year-old around.

Julia was not sure why she had jumped to the conclusion that someone had been trying to kill her, instead of assuming that it was an accident. She supposed it was because there had been two shots. One might be an accident, but it seemed unlikely that someone would fire a second shot so close to her. Whoever it was must have been aiming at her. Of course, she had been low to the ground, sitting on the log, perhaps partially hidden by bushes, and she had been wearing a hat and brown shawl. It was possible, she guessed, that from a distance someone might have mistaken her for an animal, unflattering though the idea might be.

The more time that passed, the stranger and more unreal the incident seemed. By the time they reached the house and Gilbert began excitedly to tell the story of finding Aunt Julia, she had dismissed the oddities of the occurrence and agreed with Deverel that in all likelihood it had been the mistake of a poacher.

“And a very grave mistake he shall find it, too,” Deverel promised grimly. “He might have harmed you!”

From the look on his face, Julia thought that she would hate to be the poacher if he was able to discover the man's identity. Stonehaven obviously took his territorial rights very seriously.

“This is awful!” Lady Stonehaven exclaimed.

“Julia! How terrible it must have been,” Phoebe commiserated. “You must come upstairs and rest. Let me put some lavender on your temples.”

“I'm all right, Fee,” Julia assured her, smiling. “I really didn't come to any harm, except for getting dust on my dress.”

“Damned peculiar place, the country,” Geoffrey opined. “I must say, Phoebe, I think we ought to go back to London.”

“Yes, Geoffrey, of course. We will soon.”

Julia allowed Phoebe to take her upstairs, where she undressed and bathed away the dirt of her experience. She got into bed and submitted to the handkerchief dipped in warm water and lavender drops with which Phoebe insisted on bathing her forehead and temples. Rather tired after her experience, she soon dropped into a restful sleep.

When she awoke, she found that a servant had brought a cold luncheon up to her on a tray. Also on the tray was a note from Deverel, requesting her to come to his study. Julia grimaced, thinking that a request from Deverel was more like an order, but since she had intended to ask him if he would give her Selby's suicide note, she decided that she might as well comply with his wishes and meet him.

She got up carefully, wincing at the soreness in her muscles that was a reminder of the morning's ordeal. She discovered that she was famished, and she dug into the food with zeal, then dressed and went downstairs to Deverel's study.

“Julia.” Deverel stood up from his desk when she entered. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Rest works wonders.”

“Here. Sit down.” He guided her toward a chair.

“I'm not an invalid,” she told him tartly.

“Of course.” He stiffened, and his hand fell away from her arm. “I realize that you, of course, do not need my help.”

Julia felt a trifle guilty. She would not have snapped at anyone else for doing what he did. It seemed as though, around him, she was always on her worst behavior.

“I talked with my gamesman,” Deverel continued. “He was much shocked by what happened to you this morning. He said he had not heard any rumors of poachers on the land lately.”

Deverel did not add that the gameskeeper had found it highly unlikely that anyone would be idiotic enough to poach that close to the house, anyway. The man's opinion had increased Deverel's uneasiness about the incident, but he was not about to worry Julia with the vague fears it had aroused in him.

“He has gone out to investigate the clearing, and he's going to hire some more men, so that we can keep the grounds better patrolled.”

“There is no need to turn the place into an armed camp,” Julia protested. “I am sure that whoever did it won't return. He is bound to realize his mistake, and he would be foolish, indeed, to come back.” Julia stifled her own doubts about the shooter being a poacher. After all, who else could he have been?

“No doubt. However, you must allow me to take every precaution for the safety of my guests.”

“Of course. It's your decision.” Julia shrugged, dismissing the subject. “I wanted to ask you if I could borrow Selby's note.”

“The suicide note? Julia—do you really think it's wise to dwell on it?”

“The
supposed
suicide note. And I am not dwelling on it, as you say.”

“You don't propose to show it to Lady Armiger, do you?”

“No. I'm not as insensitive as that. Until I can prove that Selby didn't write it, it would only cause Phoebe pain.” She paused, then added reluctantly, “I understand why you did not give it to her.”

“Why, thank you.” He gave her a mocking half bow. “I thought never to hear such words from your lips.”

“Don't be snide. May I have the letter?”

“Of course.” He reached into a drawer of his desk and withdrew it. “Here.” As Julia took the letter and started to rise, he went on. “No, wait. There is another matter we must discuss.”

He picked up an official-looking piece of paper, adorned with a seal, from his desk. “I received our special license this afternoon.”

Julia froze, staring at him.

“We can be married now. The sooner, the better, I would say, since we've told Pamela St. Leger that we are already married.”

“
You
told her, you mean,” Julia pointed out acidly. “I had nothing to do with it.”

He shrugged. “That scarcely matters now. The point is, we need to be married right away. I suggest this evening. The rector will come round and do it right here in the house. Or we can go to the church, if that is your preference. You have Lady Armiger and Mr. Pemberton to act as witnesses.”

“Wait. I never agreed to marry you.”

Deverel grimaced. “Are you still going on about that? I thought you had realized that you have no other choice.”

“One
always
has a choice,” Julia argued. “I do not want to marry you.”