1
“They’ll come rushing from all corners of the globe as soon as I’m dead,” the Earl of Beaconswood said tohis granddaughter—to hisstep-granddaughter, to be moreaccurate. The earl’s daughter had married Julia Maynard’sfather when Julia, the child of his previous marriage, wasfive years old.
“Oh, Grandpapa,” Julia said, closing the book from which she had been reading aloud and frowning at the oldman as he reclined back against his pillows and tried tosmooth the sheet across his chest with gnarled and feeblehands. “Don’t say such things.”
“They’ll come racing all right,” he said. “And weeping pailfuls and roaring fury at you for not summoning themsooner, Jule. But we’ll cheat ’em, girl.” His chuckle turnedinto a cough.
“I meant don’t say that about dying,” Julia said, standing up to fold the sheet neatly and bending over him to kiss hisforehead. His bushy white eyebrows tickled her chin.
“It’s true enough,” he said.“The body is worn out, Jule. Time to turn it in for a new one.” He chuckled again.“Timeto turn up my toes.”
“You will be getting better now that the warm weather has come,” she said briskly. “Though I still think we shouldlet everyone know that you are poorly, Grandpapa. 1 havehad to lie to both Aunt Eunice and Aunt Sarah in the pastmonth, assuring them both in reply to their letters that youare very well, thank you. It is not right. They should know.And it would be a comfort to you to have a little more company.”
“Bah!” he said, frowning ferociously from beneath bushy white eyebrows. “Company is what I don’t need, Jule.Everyone tiptoeing around and whispering and looking Friday-faced. And bringing me this gruel to make me feel better and that gruel and the other gruel. Bah!” He paused andwheezed for breath.
“Well,” Julia said after watching him in some concern until he had succeeded, “I am not going to change yourmind about it, am I?” Though she would be the one blamedfor it afterward. He was right about that but she did not express the thought out loud. After what? her mind asked andshied away from an answer. “Are you enjoyingGulliver’sTravels?”
“No better than 1 did when I first read it fifty years or so ago,” he said. “That Gulliver was a fool if ever there wasone. No, I’ve been lying here thinking, Jule.”
She clucked her tongue. “So I was reading for nothing,” she said. “You were not even listening.”
“I like the sound of your voice,” he said. “Besides, you were reading for your own entertainment too, girl, or youare a fool for wasting a sunny afternoon sitting up here witha dying old man.”
“It is not a waste,” she said. “Grandpapa, you will get better. You were feeling quite spry yesterday. You said so.”
“Feeling spry these days means seeing a pretty chambermaid and knowing that once upon a time the sight would have meant something,” he said with another chuckle thatturned into a cough.
“For shame,” Julia said, sitting back down again. "1 am not going to give you the satisfaction of blushing, Grandpapa.”
“You ain’t married,” the earl said, frowning and looking keenly at his granddaughter from beneath his eyebrows.“You know what that will mean after I am dead, Jule.”
She sighed. “Let’s not start on that topic again,” she said. “Would you like some tea, Grandpapa? Cook has madesome of the little currant cakes you like so well. Shall I goand fetch some?”
“How old are you?” the earl asked.
Julia sighed again. Nothing would distract Grandpapa once he was launched upon his favorite topic. And he knewvery well how old she was.“Twenty-one,” she said. “Agedand decrepit, Grandpapa. And definitely a spinster for life.Don’t start. Please?”
But he was already started and well launched. “You came back from your Season in London with your nose inthe air and all your beaux rejected,” he said.“That was allof two years ago. And you have turned up your nose atevery respectable young man I have brought here for yourinspection since. You’ll be lucky if you really don’t end upa spinster, Jule.”
“I have never turned up my nose,” she said indignantly, falling into the trap of arguing with him, as she always did.“I have just not met anyone I cared to spend the rest of mylife with, Grandpapa. There are worse fates than ending upa spinster, you know.”
“Are there?” he said gruffly, “You want to be turned over to the Maynards, Jule?”
No, she certainly did not. Her father’s elder brother and his wife and five children lived far to the north, almost inScotland, and they had always made it clear that theywould not relish having to take responsibility for Julia.Though they would if they had to, of course. They were allthe direct family she had.
Julia held her peace and glared sullenly at her grandfather.
“It’ll be the Maynards after I am gone," the earl said. “You can’t expect my family to take you under their wing,can you, Jule?”
Grandpapa’s family consisted of two sisters and a sister-in-law on his side, and a brother-in-law and sister-in-law on Grandmama’s side, plus spouses and numerous nephewsand nieces. Julia had grown up as one of them. Only in recent years had she realized fully that in truth she did not belong at all. Grandpapa had kept her constantly remindedwith his repeated attempts to marry her off.
“You had better take Dickson while I am still alive to give a dowry,”the earl said. “He is steady enough, Jule.And respectable. I’ll have him summoned tomorrow. He’sless than ten miles away.”
“You will do no such thing,” Julia said crossly. “I would rather marry a frog than Sir Albert Dickson. If you won’thave tea, Grandpapa, then it is time for your sleep. You aretired and you have been talking too much. You know whatthe doctor said.”
“Old fool,” he said. “I don’t have too much longer to talk, Jule. It’s Dickson or the Maynards, girl. I don’t havetime to find someone else for you.”
“Good,” she said tartly. “That is one small mercy, at least.”
