The Abandoned Bride (4 page)

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It was not at all well done, not at all socially adroit. The gentleman stood at the doorway to the salon and stared intently at the shaken young woman. She, in turn, gaped back in frank astonishment at him. In the common way, Julia was to think later, it was most irregular for any female of breeding to subject a visitor to such naked, unrelenting observation. But then again, it was not at all correct for the gentleman to stand and gaze at her in such obvious, stark, unblinking appraisal either. She did not know or care to know the reason why he studied her with a growing sneer upon his lips, she only shook her head as she looked at him, wondering whether to disbelieve her eyes or her ears. For surely, one of her senses had betrayed her.

The gentleman Mrs. B
r
yce had said was Lord Nicholas Daventry, Baron Stafford, could not be the gentleman of that name who had composed and sent all those insane letters, one of which lay crumpled and twisted in her pocket at this ve
r
y moment. This gentleman looked as though he had never committed an unconsidered or rash deed in his life. Everything about him was meticulous and correct. His clothes, from his tightly fitting blue jacket to the highly polished half boots which covered his buff-kerseymere-clad legs, fitted his trim, athletic
form to an inch. His neckcloth, arranged in a perfect waterfall, was dazzling white, and his linen was no less well cared for than the white hand which held the quizzing glass he observed her through. His hair was dark and curling, his skin
cl
ear and of a flawless matte texture that any young woman would weep for. The watchful eyes were gray-green and well opened, ringed round with thick dark lashes. But even with these graces there was little else that was effeminate about the haughty face with its well-carved features: the thin aristocratic nose, the strong chin, and the high sculpted cheekline.

Whatever else this unknown gentleman was, Julia thought, with an admixture of relief and embarrassment at her reaction to his name, he could not be her unwanted correspondent, for he could not be above thirty years of age and he radiated health and fitness. But as she continued to stare at him, as if to reassure herself of the accuracy of her perceptions, the mobile lips opened to speak.

“Now that you have assured yourself of your ability to recognize me should we meet again, Miss Hastings, do you think you might be able to explain why you cannot have converse with me?” he asked in a chill voice.

Julia flushed, both in chagrin at her own actions and in anger at his less than gallant reminder of them.

“I apologize, my lord,” she said stiffly. “Obviously, I mistook you for another.”

He made no reply save for sketching a brief, ironic bow as Mrs. Bryce, sensing that the potential storm had blown over, rushed to say with evident relief,

“You see Julia? Just as I said. The baron is here to speak with you about a new position. I shall leave you now, my lord,” she simpered, “and hope for a happy resolution to your conversation.”

As Mrs. Bryce left the room, with an arch look given along with her curtsy to the baron, Julia experienced a moment of rebellious rage which she had to tamp down. For she had not been introduced to the gentleman, neither did it seem that he expected her to be. Rather she had been brought in for his inspection as though she were livestock he woe thinking of purchasing. But her talents were there to be purchased, in a manner of speaking, she thought sadly. And she was only a servant, and she ought to be used to it, she reminded herself quickly, so she collected herself and stood,
her eyes downcast, waiting for his next utterance. When it came, it did nothing to restore her spirits.

“Who did you think I was?” he asked abruptly.

Taken by surprise, Julia spoke up more rapidly than she might have wished.

“A gentleman with a very similar sounding name has been writing to me,” she began, “offering me bizarre propositions
...”
But then, realizing that the receipt of such letters might imply that she had sought such correspondence in some way, she added quickly, “Indeed, I do not know why, he is an old fellow, wandering in his wits, and I can only assume that he has seized on me as his victim due to some aberration that age has wrought in him. I had thought to bring the matter to the attention of the authorities, but so far I have taken no steps as I have hoped the matter would end of itself. Pray disregard it, my lord. I’m sorry that such a distast
e
ful subject came up at all, but that is why your name so unsettled me. My employer says that you have gotten my direction from the Misses Parkinson and have a post to offer me?” she continued, blaming her original misapprehension upon her employer’s bad diction and attempting to get the conversation back to a more normal level to discover what had brought him to Mrs. Bryce’s home.

He stared hard at her and then said smoothly, “I do indeed have a post to offer you and had you bothered to read my letters instead of dismissing them as ‘bizarre propositions,’ you would have known it before this. As it is, I got your direction from the Parkinson sisters, yes, but only after I had first gotten their direction from the Bow Street runner I had employed. You’ve been a difficult young woman to locate, Miss Hastings.
”

“Sit down.” Julia heard the baron command, as her thoughts were scattered by his words. She did take a seat, for it seemed that she suddenly required one, but even as she did she found that overriding all the conf
u
sion in her mind was the irrelevant thought that he might have asked her to sit politely rather than insisting so rudely. But he spoke of Bow Street runners as though she were a common criminal, and he claimed authorship of the letters in the same harsh voice. She fumbled into her skirt’s pocket and with trembling fingers withdrew the missive she had received that morning.

“You wrote this?” she asked in bewilderment, as though that were the hardest fact to fathom of all.

He looked at the rumpled paper. “Yes,” he replied in a hard voice, “and so I can see why I had to travel all this way to meet with you. Really, Miss Hastings, I was prepared to be quite generous. This race you have run me does not up my price at all.” Julia did not even bother to take in his words, as she was still thinking on what he had first said. Her only reply was to murmur in wonderment, “Bow Street!”

“Why yes,” the baron said bitterly, as though the subject was as distasteful to him as it was to her. “It was necessary to obtain their services. You cover your tracks well, my dear, and have moved about frequently, and your family was singularly unhelpful in providing a clue as to your whereabouts.”

Of course, Julia thought, catching onto that one warm thought in this cold interview as though it would thaw the chill of fear that had gripped her and restore her clear thinking. Of course, Papa would have nothing to do with anyone from that wretched family. So, “Of course,” she said, raising her head to look the gentleman in the eye, “for they know I would want nothing to remind me of that episode in my life. Really, my lord,” she said with more spirit, as if the very mention of her family itself had called them all back to her in truth and that they stood ranged beside her now to shore her confidence, “I cannot understand why you are come here. Nor can I understand the necessity for the letters. Three yea
r
s have passed. For me, it is as though a lifetime has passed. What profit is there in raking up the past? I admit, I was going to many your cousin. But I did not. There’s an end to it. Why should you bother to seek me out now?”

“My nephew,” the baron corrected her absently, as he turned to look out the long windows.

“Your nephew?” Julia asked in bewilderment. “But Robin always spoke of his uncle as ‘Old Nick.’ He always spoke of him as his mentor, that is why I thought you—”

“Addled and confused with the weight of my years?” the baron supplied, leaving off gazing out the window to look hard at her. “I am four years Robin’s senior, Miss Hastings, but I am, nonetheless, his uncle. And, I assure you, in full command of my senses. It is Robin that has left off his,” he added angrily in an undervoice.

As Julia only gazed at him with incomprehension, he went on in annoyance, “Come, Miss Hastings, I have not traveled all this way to entertain you with our family history, which I am convinced you know as well as I do myself. It is Robin that I speak of. Three years ago, I will freely admit, I opposed the match. Events have transpired that have caused me to change my mind. You have won. Oh, I do not say that I will be delighted to see you wed my nephew. I’m sure you know better than that. Let us have the truth with no wrappings on it. Say rather that I will contrive to accept the union. In short, Miss Hastings, I am prepared to remove all obstacles.”

J
ulia only gazed at him
as though he were demented, so he went on angrily, “As I said in the letters you were so contemptuous of, I will pay the piper. Not only will I countenance the union, I will pay you a sum to ensure that you accompany me to Robin’s side. But be aware, Miss Hastings, that if you seek to continue your way of life after the wedding, or disappoint Robin in any fashion, it will not go easy for you. I am still Robin’s ‘mentor,’ as you say, and I have some social power. So, I tell you now, as I did not, for obvious reasons, in the letters, if you should decide against the marriage, I will make that decision worth your while. There is no way you can lose in this, my dear,” he added when he saw that she did not speak.

“What are you talking about?” Julia cried.

The baron made a sound of annoyance, then walked to her and raised her chin in one cool hand so that she had to look directly into his now narrowed eyes.

“I leave for the Continent in a week. Accompany me and you shall have
...”
and then
he
named a sum so large that Julia gasped, despite herself. With a smile of grim satisfaction, he went on, “Ma
rry
Robin and you will, of course, have the run of his purse. But husbands are notoriously unreasonable creatures, and there is no guarantee that he will not grow economical with the years. And you are not inexpensive, I’ll wager. Refuse to marry him, once and for all, and you may find that decision even more lucrative. But we do not have to cross that particular bridge as yet. We shall have time to talk about it on our journeys, never fear.”

Noting her absolute stillness and still looking steadily into her eyes as he held her chin fast, he went on gruffly, “You needn’t fear for your safety, if that’s what’s troubling you. I won’t pitchfork you into a nest of Frenchies. We shall circumvent them entirely. We go by sea to Greece. There’s no danger,” he insisted, as he waited for response to flicker in her wide eyes, “but only profit in it for you.”

Julia struck his hand away, and rose to her feet. She found herself shaking, her rage was so complete and so completely contained.

“You may not be addled with age, but you are certainly mad,” she said wildly. “I do not want to marry Robin. Nor does he wish to marry me. I have not laid eyes upon him for three years, nor do I wish to ever see him again. I do not know what maggot you have gotten into your head, but I am nothing to your nephew. I haven’t heard from him, or seen, spoken, or thought of him for three years,” she cried, knowing that this last, however, was untrue.

For she could not count the times she had thought of him. Once, each time she had to apply for a new post, twice, each time a gentleman looked at her and she remembered that terrible night and reminded herself that she would be no fit wife for any man, and a dozen times at least, each night she lay awake and thought of the bleak future she had bought for herself in that reckless past.

The anger left the baron’s face, and he only gazed at her with resigned and weary patience.

“Oh yes,” he said with an undercurrent of disgust evident in his low voice, “and all those letters he wrote to you were writ on the wind, were they? And all those tantalizing replies you sent to him were figments of his imagination? Come, Miss Hastings, have done with it. You have exacted your revenge. I am come to you, if not precisely on bended knee, then at least with full pockets. You can ask no more. Indeed, I will give no more. Are you coming with me then?”

She shook her head in the negative, as much to attempt to clear it as to deny him.

“It is no use,” he said angrily. “I don’t know what game you play, but I do know all. I put it to you bluntly then,” he said on an exasperated sigh, though Julia could not see how much more bluntly a gentleman could speak.

“Look you, Miss Hastings,” he said, facing her directly and speaking as though he were containing himself with much effort. “You cried off that once, the very night of your wedding, fearing, and righ
tl
y so, that Robin’s family would come down upon you if you wedded him. He left for the Continent to recover from the incident. But he did not. God knows why he did not,” the baron said, scowling, “but he did not. He wrote you to that effect. You ignored him. His letters grew more and more plaintive, and then you began to encourage him. For months you led him on, only then to announce that it was quite impossible to ever reunite with him, as you were already wed.
A master stroke, Miss Hastings. A neat revenge. A creative and most superior lie. I congratulate you, indeed, perhaps I even understand you. He was, as you intended, utterly crushed.
In time, perhaps, he could recover from-even that. But now, you see, he has not the time to spare.

“His father lies dying, Miss Hastings,” the baron said roughly, “and though there was never any feeling between them, Robin must return to his home. He cannot go on denying his heritage, solacing his wounds with excess upon the Continent. No one of the family can persuade him to return. Not even I. But you can, and you must. Even if you were indeed wed, with three babes at your knee, I would insist upon it. ”