The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (5 page)

And what a short trip it had turned out to be!

It was rather amusing that Aunt Hyacinth now wanted her to return to London. Her aunt had started a campaign of letters at the beginning of the year. Julia had received one from her aunt every week for the last three months.

Now that Caro was safely married, and Julia’s smudged reputation could no longer reflect badly upon her cousin, Aunt Hyacinth was eager to make up the lost Season to Julia.

She also suspected that Aunt Hyacinth had so enjoyed arranging her daughter’s come-out, she wanted to have the fun all over again with Julia. In her last letter, Aunt Hyacinth had been on the verge of pleading with Julia to come to London. The letter had gone
on for pages about how exciting London was, due to Princess Charlotte’s engagement. Romance was in the air, Aunt Hyacinth had extolled.

Without hesitaton Julia had gently declined her aunt’s invitations. London no longer held any appeal for her, Princess Charlotte’s engagement or not.

As Julia walked on, she wondered how many times she had taken this route to her friend’s home. Hundreds and hundreds, she guessed. After all, she and Mariah had been close friends for almost twenty years and had been visiting each other since girlhood.

The Thorncrofts lived in a grand house on the knoll at the end of this two-mile lane. Mrs. Thorncroft had a passion for improving Thorncroft Manor, as she had styled the large estate. Her husband, the most prosperous woolen mill owner in the district, happily indulged his wife’s continual demands to refurbish the place. All of the best families in Chippenham were invited to the Thorncrofts’ home every year after the sheepshearing was done. It pleased Mrs. Thorncroft to no end to have her neighbors marvel as she unveiled the latest improvement to the Manor. Often Mariah would visit the Allards just to find relief from the hammering and dust that seemed a constant state at her house.

Julia was within half a mile of the Thorncrofts’ when she saw Mariah’s familiar figure coming toward her in the distance.

As if in accord, both young ladies hurried their steps toward one another with smiles of greeting.

Mariah Thorncroft was a lovely young woman with sparkling eyes and glorious wavy brown hair. As she drew near, Julia admired her friend’s elegant sea-foam green walking gown. This was not unusual, as Mariah always dressed in the highest kick of fashion. The shawl she wore at her elbows was a marvel
of intricately embroidered flowers. Julia had long thought Mariah was the perfect height—tall enough to be considered fashionable, but not so tall as to be remarked upon. Julia envied her friend’s shorter stature and often told her so.

“Julia! I vow I left the house when you left yours, but as your strides are so much longer than mine, it takes you half the time to cover the same distance.” Mariah Thorncroft’s hazel eyes danced with an ever-present tease for her friend.

With her free hand, Julia reached out and clasped the other girl’s arm with great affection.

“My dear Mariah, you have used that excuse for years. I think it is more likely that you stand looking out an attic window until I come into sight,
then
you leave your home,” she teased back.

“I shall never admit to it,” Mariah said, giving Julia’s arm an answering squeeze as they stood in the middle of the lane. “What shall we do today?”

“As it is so fine outside, I thought a walk to the village would do us both good. And, I have these books that should be returned to the lending library,” she suggested. “We can also go to Fitch’s and see how Johnny Potts is getting on in his new position.”

“Oh, let’s. I am so proud of him. I know he will blush scarlet when he sees us, but will be pleased nonetheless.”

Julia agreed. For the last six or seven years, Julia and Mariah had taken it upon themselves to teach some of the children in the village rudimentary requirements of reading, writing, and sums.

Johnny Potts, the youngest son of a poor sheep farmer, had turned out to be their prize pupil. Though he had at first been embarrassed and self-effacing at being instructed by women, over time he had flourished under their gentle guidance.

Recently, Julia and Mariah had each received a
note from Johnny, in his very careful and precise handwriting, informing them that he had been offered a position at Fitch’s Mercantile. His gratitude had been deeply touching, and it had fueled the two young ladies’ desire to instruct any child who had the desire, but not the means, to learn.

“Oh, I have not told you the latest news from my home,” Mariah offered. “Mama is having the workmen start on her latest project. I have been combating the headache all day,” Mariah said, slipping her arm through her friend’s.

The two young women turned and left the lane, taking a wider road that led to High Street.

“What is your mama having done now?” Julia asked in sympathy as she shortened her stride to better match her friend’s steps.

Mariah gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. “She has decided that nothing will do but to have a Greek temple overlooking the pond. Thank heavens the architect convinced her that a full-scale temple might overshadow the Manor. So we are to have a diminutive marble temple to lounge in.”

“A Greek temple?” Julia tried to picture such a thing with the Thorncrofts’ half-timbered Tudor mansion in the background. She could not. “Oh my. How long will it take to be completed?”

“The answer to that question is the only good thing about Mama’s mania for improvements. The architect says it may take two years, since the marble is coming all the way from Italy. Papa says she cannot start on another scheme before this one is completed.”

“What an undertaking! You must visit my aunt and uncle often to give yourself a respite from all the noise.”

“I shall certainly take advantage of your aunt’s and
uncle’s hospitality,” Mariah stated cheerfully. “Any news since I saw you last week?”

Julia stopped and looked down at her friend with an expression of annoyance mixed with amusement. “Yes, there is. You will never guess who proposed to me again, and then was astoundingly rude.”

“Oh no! Not Mr. Fredericks again,” Mariah said on a disbelieving laugh.

Julia gave her friend all the details of her awkward encounter with their neighbor.

“How horrible of him to suggest that there is something unseemly about your return from London. In truth, I suspect it is Widow March spreading this gossip about you—she casts sheep’s eyes at Mr. Fredericks every Sunday and is jealous that he is so obvious about his preference of you. Still, I shall tell Mama that he is no longer welcome to tea,” Mariah stated, the anger evident in her expressive eyes.

“There is no need to do that, Mariah. To give him the cut will only cause more talk. I have determined to treat him with the utmost civility when next we meet.”

“Your tolerance is to be admired, dear Julia. I would not be so sanguine in your position. But I do envy your poise,” Mariah said as they resumed their stroll toward the village.

“I lose what poise I have at the thought of the Duke of Kelbourne. It has been a year, and still his actions plague me. Mr. Fredericks’ insult is a direct result of the duke accosting me.”

“Yes, it is. The Duke of Kelbourne should be boiled in oil,” Mariah proclaimed loyally.

The two young ladies had spent a good deal of time over the last year planning different, tortuous ways to end the existence of the dastardly duke. Boiling in oil had become a recent favorite.

“Indeed. But regarding Mr. Fredericks, I am grateful that my aunt and uncle have not placed any pressure on me to marry a man like him. I know some in the village would think me a goose-cap for rejecting the suit of a man with his income.”

“I so envy you in that respect. As a woman of means, you have no need to marry unless you have a true regard for the gentleman.”

Her gray eyes wide with surprise, Julia stopped short and looked at her friend. She grew more concerned when she took in her friend’s serious expression.

“Envy me? Dearest Mariah, what fustian is this? I own that my father left me in no fear of the poor-house, but my six hundred pounds a year does not compare with the enormity of your dowry. Your papa is the wealthiest man in the district. What reason do you have to envy me on this account?”

Mariah raised her tilted hazel eyes to Julia’s face, seeking understanding. “Yes, my papa has settled a fortune upon me, but I have no money of my own.”

As they continued to walk, Julia mulled over her friend’s bald statement. “Oh, Mariah.”

“My mama makes sure I am the most fashionably and expensively dressed young lady in the village,” Mariah said in a tight voice. “But I cannot pay for my own subscription to the lending library. I cannot even purchase a sweet in the village today, for I have not a sou of my own. I have asked papa for a little pin money, but he prefers to have even the smallest bill sent to him. He believes that women cannot really understand the value of money and likes to know where every tuppence goes. Yes, my friend, I do envy you.”

“In truth, everyone knows that your papa is exceedingly careful with his money, but I had no idea it was this bad! Why have you not shared this with
me before?” Julia was at a loss as to what else to say and could only listen with sympathy and acceptance.

“What is the use?” Mariah shrugged, her lips twisting into a bitter smile. “I only tell you now because I am distraught at the thought of returning to London for the Season. Mama is determined to continue her hunt for a husband for me. She wants the highest title Papa’s money can buy. I hate the thought of returning to London. It will be as awful as it was last year after you left. Now you are going to Bath, and Mama will drag me to Town. It will be awful all over again.”

They walked in silence for several minutes. A cackling crow flew above their heads.

With anxiety, Julia sought for something she could say to give some comfort. Her heart twisted at hearing the anguish in her friend’s voice. Though it was common knowledge that Mrs. Thorncroft was a shameless social climber, Julia had no idea the situation was so serious.

Suddenly, she stopped short and turned to her friend in great excitement, almost dropping her books. “I have an idea! Bath is certainly not as fashionable as London, but it has something London does not.”

“What?” Mariah asked, a slight glimmer of hope entering her eyes.

“My cousin Caroline,” Julia stated, waiting for her friend to see where she was leading.

“Your cousin Caroline? I am quite fond of Caro, but I do not…?”

“She is Lady Farren now!” Julia interrupted in a tumble of words. “Do not you see? Now that Caro is a baroness, she can provide you with superior company. Your mama will scramble at the chance to be taken up by Lady Farren. Instead of going to London again with the hope that some titled gentleman
will stumble across you, you can come to Bath! We must make it sound as enticing as possible for your mama.”

Dawning understanding and excitement spread across Mariah’s heart-shaped face as she took in the words. “Do you really think Mama might change our plans?”

“It is certainly worth a try. I shall write to Caro this day. I have complete confidence that you shall receive an invitation to one of her parties. Your mama is sure to see the advantage of an invitation from Lady Farren. Besides, we are less than two hours from Bath, which is another advantage. You must begin cajoling your mama this very afternoon. I know how stubborn you can be. Dig your heels in! Tell her it is Bath or nothing,” Julia said, smiling, pleased to see the hint of hope on her friend’s face.

“I shall!” Mariah vowed with sudden resolve. “Mama will see that this is a much better plan than going to London in such a haphazard manner. If we go to Bath, we shall already have an entrée into Society. You are brilliant! I feel ever so much better,” she said with relief and excitement as they resumed their walk toward the village.

“I believe this spring will be much better than the last. For both of us,” Julia said, with a nod of satisfaction.

A
light rain had cooled the day, making the fourteen-mile trip from Chippenham to Bath a pleasant experience for Julia and her maid, Harper.

As the carriage trundled to a stop, Julia looked out the window and saw Caroline waiting on the wide front steps of an impressive Palladian-style townhouse.

“Julia! You are here! Welcome, welcome,” Caro called as she descended the marble stone steps.

With excited impatience, Julia opened the door before the footman had time to reach the coach. As the manservant helped her down, she was careful to lift the hem of her mauve carriage dress clear of a puddle.

Safely on the walkway, Julia beamed at her cousin and was much pleased to see how well she looked. Caro had always been pretty, but there was a new maturity in her expression and manner of dress that Julia thought suited her splendidly.

“Caro, you are a vision,” Julia stated as they met in a warm embrace.

Pulling back, Caroline slipped her arm through Julia’s, and led her up the steps. “Thank you, dear cousin. I vow your beauty shall soon be setting Bath
on its ear. But for now we must make you comfortable. I have tea awaiting us in the salon. Clive fully intended to be at my side to greet you, but his mama sent a note over saying she was feeling poorly and needed his company.”

Julia could not help noticing how flat Caro’s voice had become. Looking at her closely as they entered the well-appointed foyer, Julia decided not to pretend that all was well.

“Is Lord Farren’s mama a true thorn in your side?” she asked in gentle tones.

Caroline did not answer immediately, but continued to lead her across the entryway to the salon. Once there, Julia noticed the tea tray on a nearby table and began removing her doeskin gloves and bonnet.

As they sat down, Caro sighed deeply before beginning to prepare the tea.

“I shall confess to you that Lady Farren puts me out of all patience,” she said, handing a teacup and saucer to her cousin. “At first, her demands upon Clive were not so noticeable—but now he goes to her townhouse almost daily.”