The morning brought two letters from Derbyshire.
The first was for Julia and came from Emily at Cressborough Castle. She had been over to see Sophie and Harriet at Banford Hall, and she passed on all the gossip from the sisters. They were all looking forward to Julia’s return, and Papa had asked for her to be told the same. Emily said that the Earl and Countess were in good health, and that they would all three be staying at the Castle for the next few weeks. Freddie had finally written a short note from Spain, to say that he was well but not looking forward to the colder weather, as the regiment was likely to be in the mountains over the winter. There was no mention of Dominic Brandon.
The second letter was from Mama for Aunt Lucy, full of pride at having achieved an invitation from the Earl and Countess for Julia and her aunt to stay at the Brandon’s town house overnight on their forthcoming journey back to Banford Hall. There was no mention of Dominic Brandon in the letter, but seeing Julia’s face fall at the suggestion of returning via London told her aunt what she had already guessed.
As Mrs. Jones was in the room with them at the time, all Aunt Lucy said was, “We can discuss our route to Derbyshire when we get back to Bath, my dear. I have suggested to Mr. Hatton that we leave here on Monday morning. He will escort us as far as Beaminster, and we will travel on from there.”
Her aunt laid the letter down and picked up a book she had been reading, so Julia went up to her room and began to write a long reply to Emily. She recounted some information that she had heard about the local smuggling, but made no mention of Aunt Lucy’s ankle.
Later that morning, Julia came across Mr. Hatton in the hall, and he asked her to join him in his study.
“I have spoken to Mr. Whitaker, Miss Maitland. There is no farmhand named Jem on the estate here as far as he is aware, nor have any of our labourers been injured recently. I have sworn him to secrecy about the matter, and it was rather odd, as somehow he seemed to be relieved at the news.”
“Do you think that he suspects that something is going on somewhere on the estate, but he does not know what?”
“That’s possible—he may not feel that he knows me well enough yet to trust me completely, but hopefully that will change soon.”
Julia looked thoughtful, then said, “Do you think that Mr. Jones might be involved? He was born in this area and has been employed here for much longer than Mr. Whitaker, I imagine.”
He looked startled for a moment. “Of course, you said that Mr. Jones had taken Jem into the kitchen for his wife to attend to the wound. So presumably Mr. Jones had either found him lying somewhere, or was with him when he was hurt?”
“Yes, one or the other.”
“Hmm.” He was drumming his fingers on the desk as Julia waited. “You did offer to help me, so could you ask his wife whether they, and in particular Mr. Jones, have any close friends in the village?”
“Very well,” she replied. “After I have seen how Aunt Lucy is, I will look for her and ask the question.”
Later Julia found Mrs. Jones upstairs, sorting the household linen.
“In case I do not have a better opportunity, Mrs. Jones, can I thank you now for being so kind to my aunt since her accident? It has been a great weight off my mind that she has had you to care for her and to call upon. And I have been able to make several excursions into the countryside around here knowing that she was in such good hands.”
Mrs. Jones looked flustered but flattered at these remarks, and assured Julia that it had been a pleasure to be of assistance. From this, the conversation moved on to how long Mrs. Jones had been at Morancourt, where she had been born and brought up, and how she had met her husband.
“Mr. Jones was a soldier as a very young man,” she told Julia, “but I met him after he came back from France about twenty years ago. There was a whole group of them who went to join the army from near here, for most could not find any employment in this area. He was lucky, for his father was already employed on this estate so, when Mr. Jones came back, he was offered a job by Mr. Henry Hatton. My husband did well, and ended up being in charge of the farm here.”
“Does he mind not doing that anymore?”
“No, for it really needs a younger man in charge now—Mr. Henry Hatton bought more land later on, several years before he died, so there has been much more to do now than before. Mr. Jones is quite happy looking after the park, and he gets more time to meet his old friends from the army in the local public houses.”
“It must be pleasant to keep in touch with friends from so long ago?”
“Yes. Some lads were killed or wounded of course, but others came home in one piece. A few married French girls whilst they were abroad, and brought them home when they had finished with the army. It must be odd having to leave all your family behind like that, though I suppose that the French girls were able to keep in touch with them before the Blockade.”
“Oh, yes!” said Julia, “I had not thought of that. I know that some goods—silk for instance—are difficult to come by now because of the Blockade?”
“Yes, although it’s surprising what you can get in Bridport if you really know where to look. One of the other men living in the village has a friend in that town, Frank, who has some very useful connections.”
After some further conversation, Julia left her, and later went to tell Mr. Hatton what she had discovered.
“Mr. Jones had served in France, you say, Miss Maitland? That’s interesting, and also other local people that he’s known for a long time? And she mentioned someone called Frank? That could be Frank Jepson. And that was a clever idea of yours about the silk.”
“I am sorry that I cannot be of more use,” said Julia, “but I do not have much time left, and perhaps it would be unwise for my interest to be known.”
“I agree, and there are other ways that information can be discovered.”
How dull my life is going to be when I leave here, thought Julia.
“This is your last evening, Miss Maitland. May I introduce you to the waltz in the ballroom tonight?”
“Certainly, sir, although I have no means of knowing how long it will take me to become proficient. Would you say that you are a competent teacher?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Probably not, Miss Maitland, with my limp restricting my agility, but I hope that between us we shall do very well!”
Julia then remembered something that she had wanted to ask him.
“Would you mind if I try to make a copy, however amateurish, of the picture in your library? It would be a pleasure for me to have it when I am back in Derbyshire and,” she hesitated, “be a happy memento of a very pleasant stay here at Morancourt.”
She nearly added, “with you,” but she suddenly felt so emotional that she feared she might burst into tears.
“Oh! Of course you may do so if you wish.”
“Thank you. I have been so busy enjoying myself that I have not had time to use the small box of paints and the few sheets of watercolour paper that I brought with me from Bath.”
Julia turned and, without saying any more, went up the stairs to fetch them.
It was some two hours later that Aunt Lucy came to find her.
“Julia, I have been searching for you all over the house. Fortunately, I learnt that Mr. Hatton knew where you were. How is your painting?”
Julia rose from the seat at the table she had been using, allowing her aunt to see what she had been doing. The watercolour was not a bad copy of the painting on the wall, and at the bottom Julia had just written “La Passerelle.”
“What does that mean, my dear?”
“It is a nickname, but I suppose that you could otherwise call it ‘Paradise.’ ”
Her aunt, surprised, looked from the painting to her niece without saying anything, but she put her arm around Julia’s shoulders for a few moments and held her tightly.
Then Aunt Lucy said, “It is nearly time to dress for dinner, my dear,” before she turned away and left the room.
Julia looked out of the window of the library for a few minutes without seeing anything. Then she put her painting materials into the box and closed the lid, rolled up her copy of the picture, and hurried to take everything back upstairs.
Mrs. Jones and the cook had clearly decided to surpass themselves in preparing the dishes on the menu for dinner. They had even, Julia discovered, prepared one of the desserts using the lemons that Julia had bought in Beaminster.
“I suppose,” said Mr. Hatton, “that this is the Derbyshire pudding that you mentioned to me the other day?”
“Of course, sir,” said Julia with an equally enigmatic expression.
Aunt Lucy clearly enjoyed this repartee, and the rest of the meal. She was looking fully restored to health, and dinner passed with many happy exchanges of views.
At nine o’clock, Aunt Lucy rose from her chair and said firmly, “Now my dears, I am going to my room to finish the packing with Martha. In particular, I shall be wrapping the miniature rocking horse very carefully as a happy memento of my dear friend Susannah. Thank you again for letting me have that gift, Mr. Hatton.”
He bowed his head to her briefly in acknowledgment. “I shall not be coming downstairs again until tomorrow morning. But I do expect to hear that Julia has become an expert at the waltz when I see you both then, Christopher.”
Mr. Hatton and Julia rose to their feet and wished her good night as she left the room. For a short while, there was an awkward silence.
Then he said, “Miss Maitland, am I right in saying that Mrs. Harrison used my Christian name to give me permission to use yours?”
“Yes, I suppose that you must be right, for I have never heard her call you that before.”
“Then please come with me now, Julia.”
And he walked from the end of the room around the side of the dining table and held his hand out to her. When she offered hers in return, he clasped it firmly, and they went through the house, pushed the stiff doors open, and entered the ballroom.
There, to her surprise, Julia found that there were four groups of candelabra with the candles already lit. The curtains had been drawn against the night, and the drabness of the decorations did not seem to matter as much as they had before.
“First,” he said, “please stand back over there and I will try to give you a demonstration of my part in the dance.”
Julia stood still at the side of the ballroom, and Mr. Hatton began to hum to himself.
“It is a tempo, like this—ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three.” After he had established the rhythm, he began to move his feet in time, holding his arms out to an imaginary partner, turning his body and crossing the length of the ballroom as he did so, back and forth.
“You are not meant to take this too seriously, Julia!”
As she had been smiling at him since he began to hum the tune, she did not have much difficulty with that.
“ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three,” he continued for a few minutes more.
“Now, Julia, for your part. The ladies have to echo, reflect, the same steps but whilst moving backwards, and facing their partner. That must be more difficult, I suppose? Try it first on your own.”
Julia began to move slowly across the ballroom, humming the tune as she did so, “ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three.”
He smiled at her encouragingly.
Julia then went back in the opposite direction, repeating the tune as she went, “ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three.”
“Bravo!” he exclaimed. “Well done, Julia.”
The sound of her name on his lips gave her such a warm feeling that Julia was able to reply, without any constraint in her voice, “Thank you, Kit. Now what next?”
“Now we must dance the two parts together. You put your hand on my shoulder, and I have my arm around your waist—like this.” And he came towards her, indicating that she should lift her right hand onto his shoulder, then he put his left hand round her waist, and with his other hand clasped her free hand.
The feeling of being so close to him made her feel—she could not have described it in words—there was a warmth, an excitement, a trembling feeling within her that she had never felt before. He said nothing, but he held her hand even more tightly, which made her sure that he felt the same.
After a little while, he cleared his throat and said, “Now, Julia, we must move together. That is, I mean, in the same direction.”
She realised that he was trying to make a joke, and to make some sense of how he was feeling as he began the tune again.
“Now, let us begin. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three. ONE, two, three.”
After an unsteady start, they began to move together as one around the room, from the end by the tall windows to the other, where a tall mirror hung above the stone fireplace. Just occasionally, his slight limp impeded them. Julia could see them both in a reflection in the mirror, looking over Kit’s shoulder at their image as they turned and moved as one. She could not have said how long it was before they stopped, nor would she have cared if the ballroom had been full of people instead of just the two of them—the couple in the mirror.
At last they came to rest, but he did not release her. Instead, he gently took his right hand from her left and held her head against his shoulder.
“Julia,” he breathed, “we must, we have to, find a way to be together forever.”
She could think of nothing useful to say, nor wished to lift her head from his shoulder, storing the memory in her mind so that she might never lose it.
Finally he let her go from his embrace and held her at arms’ length, waiting until she could meet his eyes.
“Julia.” He stopped and could not go on, his voice thick with emotion.
She found the strength to speak. “Kit, we will, I am sure we will somehow. Please, please, don’t make me cry. I am so happy, and this can’t be the end of the story.”
For a moment, she thought that he was going to take her in his arms again. But after a short step towards her, he steadied himself and said, “No, I cannot risk it. I may not be able to control myself, and that is not what I want to happen tonight. Julia, we must go now to the bottom of the stairs, and say good night as we normally do.”
Then he held out both his hands to her, and when she put her hands in his, he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them once before letting them drop and then leading her to the foot of the stairs.
There he said formally, “Good night, Miss Maitland, and thank you.”
Julia afterwards could not remember how she replied before curtseying to him and turning to go up the stairs.
The next morning, all was hustle and bustle as their trunks were loaded onto the carriage, and the various farewells said to Mrs. Jones and her staff.
If Aunt Lucy was observing them carefully, she did not show it, but said good-bye formally to “Mr. Hatton” before getting into the carriage. Julia and Martha followed her, the coachman took up the reins as Mr. Hatton mounted his horse, and they started down the drive. Most of the time, the road back to Beaminster was too narrow for him to ride beside them but, once they reached the town, the travelling chaise paused in the square, and Aunt Lucy said, “Martha, please go now, and make a small purchase of that Blue Vinney cheese for us to take home to Bath.”
To Julia she said, “Get out of the carriage for a few moments, my dear, and say good-bye to Mr. Hatton.”
Julia did as she was told, and Mr. Hatton dismounted and gave the reins of his horse to the coachman to hold. They walked away from the carriage for a few steps, and then stood together on the cobbled sideway.
Suddenly, something that had been niggling at the back of her mind came to Julia, and she said, “Mr. Hatton, can you please ask Sir James to find out the name inscribed in the church register for the christening of Frank Jepson? And then can you please write to me or to my aunt at Banford Hall to let me know the answer?”
Whatever he had thought she was going to say, it was not that, and all he could reply was “Why, Miss Maitland?”
“Because Sir James said that he was illegitimate.”
He looked at her blankly, and then comprehension dawned.
“So the surname recorded should not have been his father’s?”
“Yes, exactly.”
He smiled at her warmly, and then said out loud, “What a pleasure it is to know someone with such an inquiring mind.”
Then he leant forward and whispered in her ear, “Good-bye, dearest Julia. We shall meet again, never fear, and all will be well.”
She smiled at him, wordless and now almost in tears, before he squeezed her hands briefly, and she got back into the carriage next to her aunt. Once Martha had returned with her purchase, the coach was soon on its way out of the square, and she could not bear to look to see him getting smaller in the distance. Very little was said between them on the way back to Bath. The constraint of Martha’s presence did not allow for any personal conversation, and Aunt Lucy seemed intent on observing the scenery passing by the carriage window. Julia’s mind was full of many thoughts. Although they must have stopped at an inn for the night, in retrospect she had no recollection of its location. Sufficient to say that it was on the second day in the afternoon that the coachman gathered his horses and held them back as they drove down the long hill at Holloway into Bath.
Julia found it odd to be back in her aunt’s house in the city without Emily being there. It was not that Julia minded the house being much quieter, but her friend’s lively presence had been a constant entertainment. Before they went to bed that night, her aunt said, “Tomorrow, Julia, we will discuss how we will occupy ourselves. I am planning to leave for Derbyshire in about six days’ time. Now try and get a good night’s sleep, my dear.”
Julia had not realised how tired she was, and Martha did not wake her the following morning until about ten o’clock. Aunt Lucy had finished her breakfast by the time her niece descended the stairs and was sitting in the drawing room reading another letter from her sister, Olivia, Julia’s mother.
“I should tell you, Julia, that I have no intention of taking Olivia’s advice to travel back through London. You can tell me more in the next day or two about this Dominic Brandon, but it is much more important for you to get home in a happy frame of mind to see your father.”
Julia’s immediate reaction was that her mother would be very angry at this news, but Aunt Lucy had already thought that through.
“I will leave writing to tell your mother for a day or two. I suggest that you might like to send a letter at the same time, to thank the Earl and Countess for their kind offer of accommodation in London. But you have my authority to say to them that I was adamant that we should travel back north through the city of Oxford and Market Harborough.”
“I had guessed,” said Julia, “that you understood many things that I have not been able to explain, and I’m very grateful for that. Thank you. I should be very glad to have a talk with you before I leave Bath.”
She embraced her aunt, and at her suggestion went to her room to find one of the books from the library that she had not yet finished reading.
Together, they settled into a gentle routine during the next few days. Although Julia had enjoyed Emily’s company very much and the busy social round during her previous stay in Bath, she was glad of the opportunity to see more of the city’s character during this second visit. Aunt Lucy did not suggest attending concerts or going to balls. Instead they walked around the centre and along the handsome terraces of houses that lined the streets. They had a pleasant wander up and down Milsom Street looking at the shops, sometimes eating a cake at a table in Mollands’ pastry shop, varied by a visit to the Pump Room to take the waters. Then they made a diversion into the lending library in the Orange Grove, and visited the shops nearby, where they chose some more gifts for Julia to take home to her family.
On a sunny morning, Aunt Lucy took her niece with her to walk across the fields below the famous Royal Crescent, where the terrace of thirty houses formed a most impressive curve overlooking the green sward which ran down towards the river bank. There was a constant procession of fashionable people walking to and fro on the grass, meeting and greeting their friends as they went.
On the way home, towards the centre of town, they were passed by a sedan chair, with the two chairmen labouring under the weight of a rather large gentleman.
“That man,” said Aunt Lucy, “would be better to walk back into the city, rather than ride and give those poor chairmen such a heavy load to carry!”
Julia agreed and was about to ask how much it cost to hire a chair when her aunt surprised her.
“I have made an appointment for you this afternoon, Julia, with one of the best dancing masters from London, Mr. Thomas Wilson. He is said to be the most expert teacher available in Bath with a knowledge of the waltz, and I thought that you might like to improve your skills.”
This remark brought Mr. Hatton firmly back into Julia’s mind, and the memory of that happy evening when they had crossed and crisscrossed the floor in his ballroom at Morancourt, if not always in step together, at least of one mind.
“Oh, dear aunt, how kind you are, thank you!”
Back at Aunt Lucy’s house, Julia went looking for Martha to help tidy her hair, but could not find her anywhere. Coming down the stairs from her bedroom, Julia came across her aunt and asked whether she had seen Martha.
“No, my dear, for she’s not here in Bath at present. I have given her a few days’ holiday, and she has gone to stay with her elder sister in that village near Gloucester. Martha will be back here in the city next week.”
“But will you not want her to go with you to Derbyshire?”
“No, I shall be taking Eliza instead, one of the housemaids who has helped me before when Martha has been unwell. That seems a much better course, so that Martha has no opportunity to gossip with your parents’ servants in Derbyshire about our stay at Morancourt.”
Julia had not thought of that and expressed her gratitude for her aunt’s careful anticipation.
That afternoon, Julia attended at the rooms of Mr. Thomas Wilson, where she and several other young ladies practiced their skills in dancing the waltz, accompanied by a small group of local musicians playing the tunes. After two hours of having her every move adjusted to the satisfaction of the dancing master, Julia was technically much more proficient. However, as she reflected to herself during the walk back to her aunt’s house with the maid Eliza, she had had much more enjoyment dancing that one evening in Dorset.
It was on the next day, when they were sitting together in the drawing room drinking a cup of tea, that Aunt Lucy said at last, “Now Julia, tell me something about this Dominic Brandon, and that other suitor that your mother does not seem to like very much.”
Julia did not have much difficulty with the first part of this request, although she left out some of the wilder details of Lord Brandon’s life in London.
“Please understand me, dear aunt. Dominic and his parents are not unpleasant people, and Mama is quite right in saying that I would never want for anything—dresses, money, jewels—if I were to marry him. But I would never be happy, or feel that I was the most important person in his life. To be the next Countess of Cressborough would be no recompense for that as far as I am concerned.”
Her aunt nodded but kept silent, so Julia continued. This, she knew, was going to be the more difficult bit to explain. Over the past two days, she had realised that she had to tell Aunt Lucy sometime soon that Kit Douglas and Mr. Hatton were one and the same.
She started with a short description of her first visit to Norton Place to meet Jack Douglas, and her reaction to him, to his younger brother, and to their father. She did not want to mention the gift of the red shoes, but she was able to suggest that there had been from the beginning some mutual interest between her and Kit Douglas.
“But I assume,” said Aunt Lucy, “that you saw no future in that, as he was the younger son?”
“No, you are right. Papa said the same, and of course I am not stupid. I do understand why.”
“So that is one reason why your father suggested that you should come and stay with me in Bath?”
“Yes, and I was very grateful for the invitation, and you were so kind in suggesting that Emily could join me. But then something happened after I arrived in Bath that I am ashamed of—that is, I mean that I deliberately deceived you.”
Her aunt’s expression changed, but not to annoyance, only to curiosity.
Julia then explained her emotions when Mr. Hatton had been announced in Aunt Lucy’s drawing room for the first time, of how Kit Douglas had suggested that their previous acquaintance should not be revealed and why.
“You will perhaps understand, dear aunt, why to begin with I did not want to go to Dorset. It meant that I was going to have to maintain that lie, but in the end I could not help myself, the opportunity to see more of Kit, I mean Mr. Hatton, was something that I could not give up. Then there was the unfortunate injury to your ankle, which led to two things. First, that our stay at Morancourt was to be extended—you can imagine that I was not at all unhappy about that. But second, that I continued to deceive you, which I very much regretted. I suppose at that point I could have told you the truth, and perhaps I should have done. But it is too late to alter that now.”
Julia had been watching her aunt’s expression as she spoke, and was not at all sure what her response was likely to be. But she need not have worried.
“Perhaps I should be angry, Julia, or at least a little annoyed at your deception. But if someone as worthwhile as Mr. Hatton wanted to marry me—and that’s so, isn’t it, my dear?—then I would have done the same. Unfortunately, your mother seems set on this other marriage, so that she can become the mother-in-law to an earl. We shall see what happens about that. Meanwhile, you have not said much about Mr. Harry Douglas, your father’s friend. Does he know anything about all this?”
Julia repeated what Mr. Hatton had told her at Morancourt, that Mr. Douglas did not yet know of his son’s inheritance, but that he would be told soon when he travelled to stay in Dorset.
“Would Mr. Douglas object, do you think, to Jack’s being replaced in your affections by his brother? Perhaps I have put that badly, Julia, since Jack never seems to have been the subject of your interest to begin with.”
“No! If anyone preferred Jack, it would be my sister Sophie, although they seem to have some unfortunate characteristics in common that would indicate that an alliance would not be a good idea. I liked Harry Douglas very much when we met, and I doubt whether he would object to my marrying Kit. But I dare not make any assumptions about that.”
Her aunt then moved on to another subject.
“How many other people know that Kit Douglas and Mr. Hatton are the same person? Sir James Lindsay, his mother and his aunt certainly, and I suppose some of their servants. Also the servants at Morancourt, or some of them. I suppose that’s all?” said Aunt Lucy.
Julia replied, “Sophie and Papa only met Kit at Norton Place. Emily Brandon has met Mr. Hatton, but not Kit Douglas, and Harriet has been away at school.”
“And your mama?”
“She knows about Kit Douglas through my father, but as far as I’m aware she has not met him.”
“Very well,” said Aunt Lucy. “Then for the moment we need not worry about any news getting out in Derbyshire. Is there anything else that you should be telling me now, Julia? I did hear a hint, although not from you or Mr. Hatton, that smugglers might be active in some of the farm buildings at Morancourt.”
This last remark, coming without any warning, stunned Julia. She gathered her wits, and then just simply replied that it was something that Mr. Hatton was looking into. She could tell, from her aunt’s expression, that Aunt Lucy was not entirely convinced that her niece had told her everything on that subject, but her aunt did not pursue the matter.
That afternoon, when Julia returned with Eliza from visiting Milsom Street to make some last-minute purchases, she found that a letter had come for her from her youngest sister, Harriet. Julia took the letter into the drawing room before opening the seal and reading the contents. Her aunt could tell from her expression that the news was not good.
“What is it, my dear?” said Aunt Lucy gently, watching as her niece’s face changed. “Is it your father?”
“Yes,” said Julia, fi ghting back the tears. “Harriet says that he has now taken to his bed the whole time on the doctor’s advice, and is having difficulty breathing steadily.”
Her aunt did not try to console her by suggesting that things might not be as bad as Julia might imagine. Instead, she sent for Eliza and told her to start collecting their clothes, ready to pack for the journey.
“But, Julia, we are not going to leave until the day after tomorrow, however anxious you are. One day’s delay will make very little difference. I need to write to your mama, and you to the Earl and Countess at Cressborough Castle, telling them that our return journey will not be via the town house in London, and that we hope to be back at Banford Hall by the end of this week.”
“Very well, Aunt.”
“My letter will not give your mother enough time to do anything to spoil my plans,” said Aunt Lucy.
And what could only be described as a very wicked smile came over her aunt’s face. Julia recognised that expression, for it was familiar—it was the kind of smile that an elder sister uses when she has triumphed over a younger sibling.