She broke off to eye her mahogany writing box, containing the pile of letters from George Pellham to his sister. She’d scanned them all the day she’d returned, yet while she’d learned a lot about the regiment’s occupation of Paris after Napoleon’s banishment, there had been little mention of the reason he’d joined in the first place. Now she was slowly reading them again, convinced George and Eliza must have communicated through scant references that could still reveal the truth. It was the most tantalising situation– the promise of a few words that could prove or disprove Lord Huntingly’s innocence once and for all.
Momentarily, she thought back to his discomfort in the graveyard, and then his reappearance on the trail, when he kissed her with all the zeal and fervour of her beloved fictional heroes. She had no idea what to make of him and, while she couldn’t ever claim that theirs had been anything but a business proposition, she had so many questions now.
‘We all have our ghosts, Miss Fairfax, the only question is how far we allow them to control our lives…’
She swallowed as she recalled his words in the orangery– had he been telling her some of the truth then? Was the marriage a way to conceal that his scars reached further than it appeared? He must have known Eliza as well as George: could he be hiding a broken heart as well as a murder?
Josephine sighed, and laid down her quill, before tucking her diary away beneath her mattress. Phoebe had suggested a morning walk with Alexander, and the fresh air could only help to clear her thoughts. Swiftly, she caught up her shawl and made her way down the grand formal staircase that led to the library and garden doors.
‘Why, Miss Fairfax, how truly delightful to see you!’ a familiar voice exclaimed, as Josephine descended the impressive Damerel staircase lined with the viscount’s ancestors and hunting trophies. Phoebe’s presence had done much to soften Ebcott, but there were certain areas that would always reflect her husband more.
‘Miss Carlisle?’ Josephine replied, genuinely surprised to see Aurelia’s petite, pert-nosed younger sister standing in the large entrance hall of Ebcott Place.
Momentarily, her gaze travelled over Amelia’s attire which comprised a cornflower muslin dress and matching pelisse, all set off by a significant lemon bonnet with a wide halo and several fluttering silk daisies. It was a truly eye-catching ensemble, and she immediately memorised it for the tragic heroine in her current novel, who was increasingly infuriated by the hero.
‘Oh, I do hope I’m not intruding, Miss Fairfax?’ Miss Amelia entreated. ‘Only they said you were staying with your sister, and I simply had to see you. You see, there have been some…developments.’
The stubborn tilt of Miss Carlisle’s small chin made Josephine’s heart sink into her sensible, everyday slippers. She’d already passed on Amelia’s letter; the last thing she wanted were more confidences and secrets to keep– especially regarding Sir Francis. Their last conversation at the Hampton Ball supper still made her flush, and she couldn’t help but regret their parting. Yet she still couldn’t understand why he’d chastised her for praising Huntingly’s performance at the recital– as well as encourage her to do what exactly?
‘…With marriage to such an individual on the horizon, some might say that now is the time to enjoy yourself.There is plenty of time for fashionable protestations after the vows, after all.’
She was certain he was far too sophisticated to waste time on improper dalliances, and Fred was equally certain he’d never marry; yet, with both Isabella Hampton and Amelia Carlisle claiming understandings, there now appeared to be significant evidence to the contrary. She swallowed a rise of disappointment that even the fictional hero of her dreams did not appear to be wholly perfect… and yet hadn’t she thought the same of Sir George before Sophie’s whirlwind adventure through Paris? She drew a breath, hoping she was not destined to be disappointed by the nature of gentlemen forever.
‘Oh, not at all, though I am impressed you found me,’ she replied, greeting Miss Amelia with a light embrace. ‘In fact, I was just stepping out for a turn with my sister and nephew, but if we head to the garden now, we can have some time alone before they join us?’ She smiled at Miss Amelia’s long-suffering abigail, before ushering her mistress through the library and into the garden.
‘Oh, it’s so beautiful here!’ Amelia exclaimed as they stepped outside, though Josephine could tell she was even more distracted than at the Davenport soiree.
Amelia sighed wistfully and her hopes sank further, as they made their way along the path above Ebcott’s rolling lawn.
‘It is, and I will always be thankful for the school years I spent here,’ she replied honestly. ‘I trust you and Lady Aurelia enjoyed the Hampton Ball? It seems an age ago now, but of course it was only two weeks. Have most families started to leave London?’
‘Yes, the heat has persuaded most of them to remove now,’ Amelia replied, wrinkling her nose. ‘In truth, it makes the streets so nauseating, I’ve no idea how anyone stays longer.’
‘Perchance they do not have the means to leave,’ Josephine replied gently.
‘Oh yes, I’m sure you’re right.’ Amelia nodded, though it was clear her mind was elsewhere entirely.
‘Well, we are quite alone now, so why don’t you tell me what is on your mind?’ Josephine said, resigning herself to the inevitable.
Amelia brightened perceptibly. ‘Oh, Miss Fairfax, I have come in such a state of nerves and anticipation,’ she whispered, ‘and I dared not share with anyone else, but really it is…so hardnot to…’ She broke off to stare entreatingly at Josephine, her large lower lip wobbling dramatically. ‘Then I thought to myself, ‘But dear, kind Miss Fairfax is so especially my friend, and theonlyperson in the world I can trust never to repeat the words that are presently… carved into my heart…’ She broke off again, waiting for Josephine to nod her agreement before drawing another deep breath. ‘Which means, at last, I can tell you… Sir Francis has asked me to run away with him!’
For a second, all Josephine could hear was the soft chirrup of the garden birds living their perfectly contented lives. Then she drew a ragged breath, recalling the golden Olympian at the Hampton Ball, encouraging her to behave as she pleased. A wave of confusion arose within her, followed by something else entirely. She had wanted to believe him the most noble and honourable of gentlemen, who valued books and ideas above mere beauty and charm. Yet, how could both Isabella and Amelia be so misled, unless there was some truth to their claims? And how could she think him above others, when his actions were so very mortal?
‘And he has asked you this directly, by reply of letter, perhaps?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
‘Oh no!’ Amelia replied aghast. ‘That would be far too dangerous! With his family so impoverished, he wouldn’t dare commit such words to paper. No…’ She glanced behind to ensure they were quite alone. ‘He came to find me after the Hampton supper and, although that bird-witted creature Isabella plagued him for not one but two dances– one of them a pirouette waltz, too– he paused beside the chaise longue and asked if he could share my seat. Don’t you think that was a sign? Not to be asked to dance with twenty other couples, but to be singled out for conversation!’
Privately, Josephine thought it could mean several very different, much less flattering things, but refrained from saying so.
‘Anyway, the moment Aurelia was occupied with several of the other matrons, he turned to me directly and said: “Are you looking forward to escaping town, Miss Carlisle?”’ She paused to look at Josephine in triumph. Josephine returned her gaze blankly. ‘Don’t you see, Miss Fairfax? We have to talk in code!’
Josephine smiled weakly, praying she didn’t look as doubtful as she felt.
‘So, of course, I said I was very much looking forward to it and asked him the same, and he said he was… “counting the days because the country is where my heart lies”…where my heart lies, Miss Fairfax! Was there ever any greater protestation of love?’
Josephine inhaled, certain she could think of several more convincing protestations without blinking, but bit her tongue instead.
‘So I asked: was he considering an escape any time soon… and do you know what he said, Miss Fairfax?’
