Aunt Roberta, sitting opposite beside Susan, laughed. “She is thinking that she has five strings to her bow,” shesaid. “And wondering which will make his move at the picnic this afternoon. It is both an exciting and a frighteningtime when one is marriageable and choosing a husband, isit not, dear? I envy you and pity you.”
“Actually,” Julia said, giving her parasol another twirl, “I was thinking of Grandpapa and wishing he were alive andhere with us so that I could lure him up onto the castle battlements and push him over the steepest wall.”
“Oh, goodness,” Aunt Sylvia said, setting a hand over her heart while everyone else laughed.
The earl, who was riding not far off, looked back over his shoulder at the sound of the laughter. She hated him,Julia thought. If he were a gentleman, he would have stolenaway as soon as he saw her swimming and left her to herprivacy. If he were a gentleman, he would have turned hisback at least until she could have got the towel right aboutherself. If he were a gentleman, he would not have accusedher of loose morals merely because she liked to swim atdawn. And he would have apologized. Profusely and abjectly.
A man’s thighs showed to definite advantage, she thought, twirling her parasol absently again, spread on either side of a horse. If they were strong and well-muscled,of course. As Daniel’s were.
She wished he had tried to kiss or touch her. She could have cracked him across the face and been feeling infinitelybetter now. She should have slapped him anyway when hehad said that about her virginity. She had missed a goldenopportunity. She would love to slap Daniel’s face. And shewould do it too at the first chance. Just let him try prosingon at her about propriety and decorum again. Or about theundesirability of her marrying Freddie. She would marryFreddie if she wanted to. She would do it to spite Daniel—if she wanted to.
“Ah, there it is,” Camilla said, pointing ahead to the ruined Norman castle. “I always forget just how picturesque the setting is until I am back here. It must be a few yearssince we were here last.”
Julia brought her mind back to the present. Culver Castle had been the scene of many happy childhood romps. Sometimes she wished they could all be young again. How foolish children are, she thought, always to be longing to growup. Being grown up was not at all a pleasant business.
The uncles handed the ladies out of the carriages. The male cousins held back. Almost as if they were afraid ofher, Julia thought or afraid of one another. It made herwish again that they were all still children, that she couldlook at them as she always had instead of as prospectivehusbands. She hated seeing them this way. There was notone of them she wanted to marry.
Aunt Sarah had set the picnic site beside the river that formed a natural moat around half the base of the castlehill. There was grass there and a buttercup and daisy-strewnmeadow behind with trees beyond it and some late-blooming bluebells. With the castle forming almost a storybookpicture at the other side of the river, they had found the perfect setting for a picnic. Or so said Aunt Sarah, directingthe placement of the blankets for them to sit on and suggesting several delightful strolls they might care to take towork up an appetite. The picnic baskets were to arrive laterby a separate carriage.
But Julia did not feel like strolling or admiring the more delicate beauties of nature.
“Who wants to explore the castle?” she asked, raising her voice defiantly.
“I don’t think, Julia—” Aunt Sarah began.
“I am going up there,” Julia said. “I want to see the view. And I want to climb up onto the battlements. Is anyonecoming?” She strode off in the direction of the arched stonebridge that had long ago replaced the original drawbridge,quite prepared to go alone if no one wanted to come or ifshe must be treated as if she had some particularly nasty infectious disease.
“Bravo, Jule.” Frederick was chuckling. “We are going to storm the castle, are we? Lead the way, then, and yourfaithful cohorts will follow.”
She threw him a grateful glance over her shoulder. But he was quite right. Others were following—most of theyounger generation, that was, despite Aunt Sarah’s frowns.Aunt Sarah had said no more, Julia could see, becauseDaniel was coming to the castle too. Drat! She wished shewere still at an age when she could poke out her tongue. Hewas coming to spoil the afternoon for her.
“Wonderful idea, Jule,” Lesley was saying. “Too wonderful a castle merely to be gazed at.”
Augustus had caught up to her by the time she had reached the center of the bridge.
“I’ll race, you to the top of the hill, Jule,” he said. “Do you want me to give you a sporting start?”
Julia, conscious of the ghastly change that had occurred in the family during the past day, grasped gratefully at a little bit of nostalgia. She caught her skirt up above her ankleswith both hands, shrieked, and was off and running.
“I’ll race you anyway, Gussie,” she yelled. “With feet that size all you can do is trip over them.”
The years fell away with exhilarating speed as she pounded her way up the hill with Augustus panting at hershoulder, waiting to make his move past her at the last possible moment. As he always did, the wretch.
Malcolm did not join the climb up the hill with the other young people. He stood looking after them—a thirty-year-old man caught somehow between the two generations.
Camilla paused, undecided whether to go or to stay. She felt sorry for Malcolm, too shy for his own good, too old tohave been a playmate for any except Daniel and Freddieand her. Pushed into the background when the younger,noisier children began devising their own games. And nowhe was thirty years old, heir to a barony, and undoubtedlyunder pressure from both his parents and his own sense ofduty to choose a wife.
And suddenly feeling trapped by the eligibility of Julia.
“Really, Millie,” Camilla’s mother was saying, “you should have had a talk with that girl a long time ago. At herage she should be married with a few children in the nursery, not rushing up a hill like a hoyden. It is quite unseemly.”
And Camilla felt sorry for Julia too. Julia was very special, with vast amounts of energy and a great capacity to love. But no one to love—yet. The right man had not comealong for her. Camilla sighed. Just as in twenty-four yearsonly one man had come along for her—and been snatchedaway cruelly before she could even have the comfort ofbeing his wife.
Daniel was not interested in Julia. He had never understood her need to break free from restraint on occasion since he had long ago suppressed all such need in himself.And there was no one else among the five cousins who wasquite right for her. Certainly not Malcolm.
“Malcolm,” she said, stepping up to him and touching him on the arm. He was very tall. A trifle too thin, perhaps,but thick blond hair gave him a claim to beauty. She had always been fond of him. “Would you like to stroll to thewoods to see the bluebells?”
“I would, Camilla,” he said, looking vastly relieved.
