And, so far, Annie had quite enjoyed her days at Ferndale, since they offered many welcome distractions. A vague but pleasurable sense of familiarity would emerge now and then, as if her childhood impressions of pastoral life had been awakened. And, of course, there were no crowds.
Mornings were her favorite, when the house smelled of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon or sausages. On rainy days there were books to read, needlework to do, or tunes to be badly played on the cottage piano in the parlor. On Saturday, she had accompanied Janet to the small village church and watched as she had placed fresh flowers at the foot of the altar. And yesterday, the Sabbath, she had attendedthe morning service with Janet and Hattie, their presence drawing unabashedly curious glances from those in the congregation. After the service, there had been a few quick, basic introductions before Janet whisked them back to Ferndale in the pony and trap. Annie was grateful for the abrupt departure, for she had no desire to answer or deflect questions about the reason for her presence there. Indeed, she quietly decided there would be no more visits to the church. At least, for a while.
For now, weather permitting, she would continue to explore the surrounding countryside at her leisure. No chaperone required, just a warning not to wander too far. Feeling like some intrepid explorer, she’d already taken herself off on three relatively short adventures, content to lose herself only in the beauty and fascination of the countryside.
London, at such times, felt as distant as the moon.
Chapter Eight
July 1846
Highfield Hall
Yorkshire
Afternoon sun sparkledoff the crystal chandeliers, throwing tiny rainbows across the walls of the music room at Highfield Hall. Most of the chairs in the music room were occupied, and a pleasant hum of chit-chat filled the air.
“Viola?” Lady Whickham addressed her daughter and then glanced at the piano.
Miss Viola Aitken, youngest daughter of Viscount Whickham, nodded her understanding and rose to her feet, prompting Julian, who had been seated beside her, to do the same. She gave him a smile, and then wandered over to the pianoforte, where she settled onto the piano bench, arranged her skirts, and straightened the music sheets on the rack. Julian took his seat again.
The audience, such as it was, fell into a respectful silence in anticipation of what was to follow. Something special, according to Julian’s mother, who herself was accomplished at the keys. Julian shared in the anticipation, though in his case it encompassed a little more than the young lady’s renowned musical proficiency. Having spent much of the afternoon in Miss Aitken’s company, he dared to consider he might, at last, have found someone suitable.
Suitable.
The impassivity of the word gave him pause, for it simply indicated a measure of approval, as might be applied to a new item ofclothing or a room at a roadside inn. It was a start, however. Suitability, at least in Julian’s world, was generally gauged by the practicalities of wealth and social standing. Such things had their place, of course, but for Julian they were merely a precursor to what came next. What came next would be the rest of his life and possibly, in this case, the rest of Miss Aitken’s. With that in mind, he did not think it unreasonable to strive for other things in a relationship. Mostly frivolous, impractical things, such as affection, contentment, passion.
And love.
Highfield Hall was currently playing host to Lord and Lady Whickham, their younger son, Mr. Frederick Aitken, and, of course, Miss Viola Aitken. Lord Whickham, recently returned from India, was a lifelong friend of Julian’s father, and Julian was under no illusion his introduction to Miss Aitken had been a chance encounter. Without a doubt, it had been pre-arranged, and the one responsible was unquestionably his mother, Grace.
Even now, Julian felt his mother’s eyes on him, though he steadfastly refused to meet her gaze, knowing she would raise a triumphant brow as one might raise a victory banner. Too soon for that, as far as Julian was concerned. He understood why she wanted to see him married and settled, but the tangible thought of a life-long commitment to Miss Aitken had not even begun to materialize in Julian’s brain.
For now, such possibilities were mere suggestions. He and Miss Aitken had only got as far as sharing pleasantries. Certainly, Julian wanted to spend more time with the girl, to get to know her a little better. Instinct told him she felt the same. As if to bear that out, she regarded him and spoke. “I wonder, Mr. Northcott, if you would be kind enough to turn the pages for me?”
“With pleasure,” he replied, rising and going over to the piano, where he stood at her side and regarded the piece of music she would be playing.
“Für Elise,” he murmured. “A favorite of mine.”
Miss Aitken answered him with a smile, one that caused Julian to regard his mother at last. Grace smiled at him in a similar fashion… and arched a brow.
*
The knock—a singlebut confident rap—came to Julian’s bedroom door later that night. Julian, who was already abed and about to lower the wick on his lantern, frowned at the interruption. After a day of continuous socializing, he’d been looking forward to his bed and the solitude that came with it. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of pretending to be asleep, but then the door creaked open, and Josiah stuck his head around it.
“Good, you’re still awake,” he said. “Hoped you would be.”
Julian bit back a sigh and sat up. “And if I hadn’t been? Oh, and yes, come in, by all means.”
“Thanks. And I’d have woken you if you’d been asleep.” Josiah bounced onto the bed and sat cross-legged, much as he might have done as a child. “Because we need to talk, brother.”
“About what?” Julian stifled a yawn. “I’m tired, Joe, and possibly not quite sober. Can whatever this is not wait till morning?”
“No, it cannot. I haven’t had a proper chance to talk to you all bloody day, in case you hadn’t noticed. Since the moment I arrived here today, I’ve been appropriated by parents, offspring, and a couple of our illustrious guests, not to mention the couple of hours I spent playing dominoes with our uncle. I’m not complaining about that part, however.”
Julian smiled. “I’m glad you’ve had the chance to meet him. He’s remarkable, isn’t he?”
“He’s magnificently tragic,” Josiah replied, glancing away for a moment. “A part of his shattered mind remains wholly intact andshines through that one blue eye as brightly as the sun. It was humbling being in his company. And yes, I’m also glad,veryglad, I’ve had the chance to meet him. The journey here was worth it for that opportunity alone.”
