CHAPTER TEN
Julia was glad to escape the confines of Harding Hall. Driving to the village in an open-topped carriage was a fine way to spend a breezy autumn morning. She was especially glad of the distraction for Annabelle, who had passed breakfast in low spirits due to her father's absence.
Julia tried not to admit to herself that she had missed Charles at breakfast too. His conversation might be dangerous, given his apparent fascination with her past, but his appearance was never less than pleasing. Even on the morning after his ill-fated escapade with Lord Kit, he had been handsome in a tired, tousled way.
Well, it did not matter how much she longed to brush his unruly dark hair out of his eyes – or how inappropriate such thoughts were. He was gone, and would be gone until Christmas.
Julia held tightly onto Annabelle's hand as they entered the village. The little girl was waving enthusiastically to everyone they passed, and Julia feared she was in danger of falling. Thankfully, they arrived at the high street without any accidents, and Julia descended with her excitable charge to look around the village of Chiltern.
It was a picture-perfect little English village. Annabelle was well-known to the villagers, who greeted her with bows and cries of "Good morning, Lady Annabelle," which went beyond the usual realm of politeness.
Julia bought some new watercolours to replenish Annabelle's stock, and then, as promised, they stopped at the milliner's. Annabelle pressed her nose against the outside window, fascinated by the array of different hats and bonnets.
"Oh! Miss Mally! May I have that one?" she asked, pointing towards an elegant turban meant for the ballroom. Julia laughed at the thought of the large ostrich feather set atop Annabelle's dimpled face.
"When you are grown, you shall have all the turbans you could wish for," she promised. Annabelle rolled her eyes.
"I have to wait for everything until I'm grown! When I come of age, you know, I'll be able to follow Papa when he goes away. No-one will be able to stop me then!"
Julia smiled and squeezed Annabelle's shoulder. "Indeed, they will not." She wondered what the life of an adult woman looked like in the child's eyes. A wonderland of freedom, no doubt.
If only that were really the case.
"Now, let's go inside so that you can choose your ribbon. Remember not to touch anything until the shopkeeper gives you permission."
Annabelle nodded obediently, with a mischievous glint in her eyes that told Julia she intended to play with every feather in sight.
"Now, Lady Annabelle," said Julia, as sternly as she could manage. "I will have your word. No touching!"
"But do you think, Miss Mally, I may touch that one? Only that one!" Annabelle beseeched her, pointing to the ostrich feather. Julia glanced again at the extravagant hat –
And it was then that she saw it.
A reflection in the glass. A face she knew.
Edmund.
Acting on instinct and pure terror, Julia shoved Annabelle forwards into the shop. The little girl cried out in protest, but Julia could not possibly take the risk of exposing Annabelle to Edmund's malice. She slammed the door behind them, to the shock of the elderly milliner, and whirled around with Annabelle behind her back. She scanned the street through the shop window, ducking her head from side to side to see past the display of hats.
Nothing.
No-one.
Only the baker across the way, coming out to inspect his own display of fresh loaves.
Julia pressed a hand to her racing heart. She'd seen him. She was certain of it.
The milliner came forwards cautiously. "Are you quite well, Miss? Did something startle you?"
Julia's mouth hung open for a moment as she tried to think of an answer that wouldn't add to the impression that she'd lost her mind. "A rat," she said finally.
"Ugh! Nasty creatures!" said the milliner. "I can't abide them either."
"Miss Mally?" asked Annabelle, in a half-whisper. Julia realised she had frightened the child.
"Don't worry, Annabelle, it can't hurt us in here," she said, wondering if she really meant it. "Now, let's have a look at these lovely ribbons..."
Thank goodness Annabelle was easily distracted from her fright. Julia wished her own heart would stop pounding at the sight of a few pretty ribbons. She did not feel quite at ease the whole journey back to Harding Hall. Every few moments, she caught herself looking over her shoulder, checking to see whether they had been followed.
She was so certain she'd seen Edmund's face in that glass. Was she losing her mind?
There was no hope of getting any lessons done that afternoon. Annabelle was too full of lively spirits to sit down and learn mathematics, and Julia herself was far too distracted to teach. She took Annabelle out into the garden instead, meaning to tell her about autumn and the changing colours of the leaves. Even that small hope of education failed as Annabelle went skipping merrily through the piles of crunchy leaves, leaving Julia to trail after her, deep in thought.
It was a beautiful day, crisp and clear, with just the hint of winter on the breeze. The perfect autumn afternoon. Julia pushed Edmund from her mind and thought how fortunate she was to experience an autumn in the countryside for the first time in her life. London had its parks, of course, but she had too often been kept indoors, keeping house for Edmund, working on the gaming hell's accounts, and hiding away from the unsavoury inhabitants of Seven Dials.
The Mallory siblings were well known throughout London's underbelly, and Edmund had made too many enemies on his rise to the top for Julia to ever feel truly safe in London.
"But here, I am far from Edmund," she reminded herself, willing it to be true. "No-one knows who I am. I am safe, safe, safe!"
"Miss Mally! Come and look!" Annabelle came rushing over, shattering Julia's contemplation. "Look at this, look, look!"
She waved something before Julia's eyes. Julia caught hold of it, perplexed.
A ringlet of autumn honeysuckle, the last of the flowers still on the vine, woven into a flowery crown.
"Where did you find this?" Julia asked. It was far too intricate for Annabelle's clumsy fingers.
"Under the tree, Miss Mally. Do you think the fairies made it?"
"It's Miss Mallory, Lady Annabelle," said Julia absently. "Mall-or-y."
"Yes, Miss Mallor... Mallory, but do you think it was the fairies?" asked Annabelle impatiently. The reminder of the strange man Annabelle had seen in the garden sent a shiver down Julia's spine. Edmund in a shop window, a dark figure haunting the gardens... were these coincidences, or something more sinister? Or did she and Annabelle simply both suffer from the same overactive imagination?
"Let's go inside," she said, keeping hold of the honeysuckle crown.
"But I'm not cold!"
"It's getting dark," she said, and it was almost true. The deep orange light of sunset was creeping through the sky.
Annabelle took her hand and they went back into the house together. Mr Larkin was waiting for them in the hallway.
"Lord Christopher is here," he said to Julia. "He is asking for a report on Lady Annabelle's progress so that he can write to his lordship."
Julia was amazed. She had not expected Lord Kit to take his promise to check in on the household so seriously. She was not looking forward to having a conversation with him at all.
"Let me just go and freshen up –"
Mr Larkin shook his head. "Lord Christopher won't be staying long, Miss Mallory. He wishes to see you immediately."
Julia sent Annabelle upstairs to find Miss Kelsey and went into the drawing room.
Lord Kit was leaning against the fireplace, a glass of brandy in his hand. Julia stiffened at the memory of their last conversation.
"Ah, Miss Mallory. How pleasant to see you again."
"Lord Christopher." Julia dropped a polite curtsy. She could not truthfully say she was pleased to see him, so she said nothing more.
"Please. Christopher is my father. My name is Kit. Lord Kit, to you." Kit took a few steps towards her. He moved with the supple threat Julia imagined from the tigers in Annabelle's story books. "You do not seem at ease, Miss Mallory. Has something alarmed you?" He took a sip of brandy and chuckled cruelly. "More fairies in the garden, perhaps?"
Julia flushed red, but in the midst of her embarrassment she considered telling him what she'd seen in the village. Lord Kit made a poor confidante, but he might be her only means of protection until Charles returned.
"I saw..." she began, and faltered. How could she possibly explain her fear of Edmund without also telling him that she was Edmund's sister?
"I saw nothing in the garden," she said, running her finger along the honeysuckle crown she still carried. "But Lady Annabelle's safety is paramount."
"Of course," said Kit, curling his lip. "But where are my manners? Do take a seat, Miss Mallory."
She obeyed, feeling that she would rather stand, but not knowing how to refuse without appearing rude.
"Mallory," Kit repeated, rolling the sound of her name around his mouth lasciviously. "A Mallory from London. There's a club that goes by that name, I believe – Mallory's. Do you know it?"
Edmund's gaming hell. Julia kept her face blank and prayed her racing heart would not betray her.
"Of course not," Kit answered for her. "It's not the sort of place a respectable governess would have anything to do with."
"I do not frequent gentlemen's clubs, not being a gentleman myself," said Julia pointedly. This, at least, was true. Even while living under Edmund's thumb, she'd avoided his foul workplace like the plague.
"Naturally," laughed Kit. When he laughed – really laughed, without malice – his face was dramatically altered. He looked younger and almost pleasant. But the expression was quickly wiped away, to be replaced by his sly grin. "But we are not here to discuss London's underbelly. I am to make a report on Lady Annabelle's progress."
"There is nothing of note to report since the Marquess left yesterday," said Julia.
"Nevertheless, I mean to take my task seriously. I will be here every day at sunset to hear how your lessons have gone, and to check on the household."
Julia was amazed, and not pleased at the idea of enduring Lord Kit's company every single day. "His lordship was satisfied with a weekly report."
"I am not his lordship." Kit's brows lowered. "A man takes greater care of his friend's possessions than he does of his own. Annabelle means the world to Charles, and therefore she is now my primary concern."
"Is that why he means to pass the winter in Cornwall?" asked Julia, without thinking. Kit frowned, stunned by her frankness, and then, thankfully, laughed.
"What a tongue you have, Miss Mallory!" He looked her over, really looked at her for the first time, with neither the lascivious impudence of his midnight drunkenness or the careless indifference of his lordling persona.
He almost seemed friendly, until his eyes fell on the honeysuckle crown in her hand. "Where did you get that?" he asked softly, his voice a dangerous growl.
"The gardens," said Julia, perplexed by his change of mood. "Lady Annabelle found it under a tree."
"You should not have touched it. It does not belong to you."
"It's only a flower, my lord." She held it up for his inspection. "The last of the autumn honeysuckle, I believe. I did wonder where it came from. I haven't seen any in the grounds."
Kit snatched the flowery crown away from her, nearly tearing it apart in his haste. "There is none. And you oughtn't to go looking for any." He was clutching the honeysuckle to his chest as though it were an object of great importance. Julia couldn't imagine why, and she wasn't particularly curious to find out. The whims of a selfish young Lord were not her concern, after all.
"Pardon me," she said, thinking she had better draw the meeting to a close. "I ought to go and check that Lady Annabelle has found Miss Kelsey."
"Wait a moment, Miss Mallory." Kit snapped his fingers at her. Julia was tempted to ignore him and leave, but she stayed. "I would not want you to think badly of our dear Marquess. I can see you have already made certain...assumptions about his character."
"I do not wish to assume anything about my employer," said Julia. "His character is not my concern."
"Nevertheless, it must seem strange to you that any loving father would be so absent, no?"
Julia sat down again, intrigued despite herself. "I do not question the Marquess's love for Lady Annabelle."
"It is that very love which torments him," said Kit, unconsciously stroking the honeysuckle vine. "You and I are young, Miss Mallory, and I hope neither of us know much of grief."
The image of Edmund flashed into Julia's mind – Edmund giving one of his rare smiles. Her heart tugged in her chest.
"Charles is a different matter," Lord Kit continued. "He has suffered very greatly. He has never recovered from his wife's death. We cannot presume to imagine the mixture of pain and pleasure Lady Annabelle must give him." He sighed. "The late Marchioness – Sarah – she loved this place. She poured her heart and soul into caring for the house. Even I see constant reminders of her everywhere. She is in the very wallpaper. How can you expect Charles to stay here and suffer such torment daily?"
"I expect nothing," said Julia. "And I wish you had not told me this, my lord. I do not wish to know the Marquess's secrets."
"Then you should not have judged him," said Kit sternly. Julia had to admit that he was right. It galled her.
"And what of your own contribution to the Marquess's misery?" she asked, speaking out of turn to cover her guilt. "Do you truly believe that drunkenness and poor behaviour is a fit cure for him?"
Kit's mocking smile twisted into a snarl. "How dare you question me in that impudent manner? I don't know what airs the Duke of Westbourne gave you, but in this house you are a governess. A servant. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly," said Julia, willing herself not to tremble as Kit took another predatory step towards her. He shook himself, as though clearing the rage from his head, and ran a hand through his hair distractedly.
"This interview is over. I will see you again tomorrow, Miss Mallory. You are dismissed."
Julia left, and gladly. She did not go up to the nursery to check on Annabelle. Her mind was in too much tumult over what she had discovered about the Marquess.
Sitting on her little bed, alone in her room, she slowly unpicked the storm of emotion that had awakened in her heart. Charles had been transformed in an instant from a drunken, careless fool into a tortured, haunted soul in need of peace. Julia's heart broke when she thought of him looking at Annabelle and seeing his dead wife's eyes in her face.
"What a fool you are," Julia said to herself, and sank down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She had no name for the feelings awakening in her chest. A mixture of tenderness, pity, and a deep desire to help the man she ought to think of only as her employer.
Thank goodness Charles would not be home till Christmas. Surely, she would be able to master her feelings by then.