Chapter Twenty-Seven
Negotiations had goneon for a couple of days between her father and Mr. Judd before the marriage settlements were complete. All the while, Jenny had tried to hide her fears from the rest of the family. In the mirror, she looked pale and wan and not her best, but at least the bruise had faded. A fear that Judd would choose Bella instead, had caused her to lie awake until the mauve dawn light crept through the gap in the curtains.
Bella had stopped her on the landing as she left her room. When the men’s voices rose from the hall, she paused to discern their tone. A lot of pleased chuckles rose up. Bella came to join her.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Jenny?” she asked again.
“Yes, dearest. Don’t worry. It’s all going to be fine.”
Jenny took a deep breath and descended to the hall.
Seated on the drawing room sofa, she tucked her skirts around her. Judd straightened his shoulders and smiled, exhibiting his usual self-assurance. She’d found it surprising when he’d over imbibed that evening at the Assembly. He’d apologized the next day, and sent a flowery note along with a posy, showing the gentlemanly concern for her delicate sensibilities, that her father so approved of. He’d written that he’d been treating a cold and mixed strong medicine with wine. A very bad blend as it turned out. Judd hoped that he hadn’t said anything to upset her. He would be horrified if it was so. A delicate lady should never be subjected to a man’s sometimes regrettable baser instincts. She’d written back immediately to assure him he hadn’t, but that she had decided never to marry.
At the time she’d thought that would be the end of it, but Papa, very angry, had insisted she apologize and go ahead with the marriage. He had issued her with an ultimatum, marry Judd or leave. Jenny knew he didn’t want her to leave, he relied on her too much in the running of the house, but she decided the only way to protect her sisters, who Judd had expressed an unhealthy interest in, was to go. She had thought at the time that whatever Judd might do to her was one thing, but to allow him some control over this house was too awful to contemplate. But if he married Bella, he would have carte blanche to treat this family as he saw fit, and she had no confidence in her father preventing him.
Now Judd sat before her. He wasn’t handsome, but she couldn’t in all honesty call him plain. His full-lipped mouth suggested an overly indulgent nature, his brown hair already graying at the temples, a smile in his hazel eyes she’d come to mistrust. “I am pleased to see you’ve returned, Miss Harrismith,” he said. “Has your aunt recovered?”
What was her father thinking? She would begin a marriage with a lie. It made her even more vulnerable. For a moment, she was tempted to tell him the truth, but it wouldn’t do. He might refuse her and take Bella instead. “I’m afraid my aunt’s complaint is due to age, Mr. Judd,” Jenny said, not exactly deceitful as she was referring to Aunt Leonora. “But she is well cared for.”
“I daresay your time in London was good practice for caring for someone who is infirm,” he said. “Naturally, I haven’t told Mother that you walked about unescorted in that immoral metropolis.”
“I doubt I have suffered from the experience.” Jenny saw how his implication that she was capable of behaving inappropriately was meant to weaken her.
He nodded, and she caught a dangerous flicker in his eyes. “Perhaps not.”
Papa, looking pleased, stood. “Well, shall we have a glass of wine as it is all now settled? I shall place a notice of your engagement in theLeeds Intelligencerand send it to theLondon Chronicle.”
Rising, Judd bent over Jenny’s hand, his gaze probing hers so intensely she wanted to pull her hand away. “I am delighted that you have seen the sense of our marriage, Miss Harrismith.”
At the swift tightening of her chest, Jenny almost gasped. She had expected Judd to be unprincipled, sly, and clever, for through his feigned interest in her father’s beloved chivalric poetry, had manipulated Papa into believing Judd shared those interests, but she had not expected a deliberate campaign of cruelty. Yet there was no mistaking his vindictive expression. Did he look forward to punishing her for first rejecting him?
*
Restless, Andrew spentthe next few days shut up with the bailiff in the estate room or appeasing his gamekeeper with the promise of a hunt ball in December. He visited his tenant farmers, sat drinking tea and praising the delicious cakes their wives put before him, while listening to any concerns they had. He offered Squire Grimshaw’s daughter, Sally, a kitten, and she’d come to the Castlebridge stables to choose one.
Andrew had impressed on Miss Green that Barbara was to be allowed to visit the stables every day. His soft-hearted daughter became upset when the kitten that looked most like Carrot had gone to a new home. It took every bit of Andrew’s diplomatic skills to smooth over the ruffled waters.
“Will Ginger have a warm bed, and lots to eat?” Barbara asked, remaining unconvinced.
“Sally promised to take good care of the kitten.” He searched his mind for a helpful analogy, but nothing appropriate came to mind. Then he seized on a story he had read to Barbara a few nights previously. “Why, Carrot’s baby will be like Cinderella. Remember, sweetheart? Cinderella lived in a simple hut and then went to live in a palace.”
Barbara sniffed. “Cinderella was a girl not a kitten.”
“Yes, that’s true, but still, the kitten has gone to a far better home than our stables,” he said, admitting to be failing badly.
Barbara frowned at him suspiciously. “And Sally’s home is not a palace.”
“The Grange is not precisely a palace, but still very comfortable,” he said, burying a sigh.
Barbara’s lips trembled. “We must tell Jenny.”
Andrew drew his daughter into his arms. “Would you like to ride your pony before luncheon?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Papa?”
“Jenny calls her father papa.”
