Trying Patience
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Julia had kept from Lady Pritchard that Gerald had come once again. Her neighbour needed not know, since Gerald was in possession of information he might tactlessly reveal, not knowing it was a secret. He might even embellish the tale and shock Lady Pritchard beyond belief. Julia would rather not know what he could invent.
Lady Pritchard did not know she was expecting a child and if Gerald were to make such an allusion, she might deny that it was still possible at Julia's age. That was equally undesirable, perhaps even more so. There was no predicting how shameless and unembarrassed these people would be.
But she had thankfully managed to usher him out of the house before Lady Pritchard and Evelina had come to breakfast and her friend had never known. His name had come up once as they travelled home, but when Julia had said that Evelina would not like him, Evelina had answered that she trusted her judgement. Lady Pritchard had had no choice but to forget about Gerald.
"Did you bring anything for me?" was little Julia's first question upon Julia's return.
"Yes, I did." Julia showed her some fabric. "Grandma is going to make you a very nice dress from this. Do you like this?"
Little Julia looked disappointed that the packages did not contain anything she might enjoy. "No baby? I want a baby."
Julia was glad she had handed the package with half of the baby toys to Clementine over little Julia's head. It would have been very difficult to get those back from her once they had been confiscated. The other half she had hidden among her personal belongings, since she had confiscated those herself.
"No, darling," said Clementine. "You do not want a baby. You want a brother or sister. And I told you they do not sell babies in shops. Mamas sell babies and you do not pay with money, but with sweet behaviour. I told you where Mama's baby is."
Little Julia laid her hand on Clementine's stomach. "Here!"
Big Julia was incredulous. "You told her?" One did not inform children who were as young as this.
"Why not? What harm could it do?"
Perhaps it would indeed not do much harm, unless it led to probing and embarrassing questions. Julia looked at Clementine's abdomen. There was nothing to be seen yet. Would little Julia not wonder about the size of that baby? "And are you also going to tell her how it got there?"
"She does not care about that. Perhaps..." Clementine hesitated and hugged Julia to whisper in her ear. "It all depends. You did not tell Daniel and he became curious."
"You can say that without hugging me, Clementine," Julia said stiffly. "I will not cry." The girl did have a point about Daniel. There was no telling what strategy would work best to keep children out of trouble. A few days ago she would have considered herself past these concerns, leaving the finer touches of little Julia's upbringing to Clementine, but upbringing and related matters had increased in significance to her now. She might be faced with the same dilemma one day when her child would see Aunt Clementine grow rounder, something that was very likely to occur again.
"I would not mind. We have only each other to speak to, should we feel the need." Clementine released her when little Julia protested against being excluded from the hug.
Julia lifted her up for a cuddle. "She takes after him in some ways, I believe." There was that open and affectionate manner.
"She will keep reminding you."
"Where did I fail?" Julia asked sadly. She did not want to do so again. She remembered Gerald's behaviour, which had at times been a direct result of her words. Perhaps one should not say anything at all. "Did he rebel against my attitude?"
Clementine embraced her again. "His health failed him, not you. We do not know what would have happened otherwise. We do not know. Perhaps you had best think he would have grown up and married me."
Julia would like to think that, but she did not know whether such an outcome would have been very realistic. She smiled a little for Clementine's support, however. "I saw my brother in town. He certainly has not grown up." But perhaps Gerald had begun to think a little. He had been a bit different, as far as she could tell, and he seemed to have taken her words of blame to heart.
"Did he know you were married? Julian said you had not told anybody."
She could not even keep to herself that she had kept things to herself, Julia noted, but of course they could only have wondered, what with the admiral's relatives visiting them and not her own. "I told him then. He does not understand the appeal of a sailor." She said that deliberately, knowing Clementine's opinion of sailors, or at least of one in particular. It would lighten their mood.
Clementine gasped. "But we do!"
"You are highly predictable, Clementine," Julia commented dryly, but she was happy to have succeeded.
Her niece looked mischievous. "Did you tell your brother that the admiral is almost as pretty as my husband?"
Julia looked calm, almost serene. "I did not tell him it was an admiral and I did not tell him it was a pretty admiral either. My brother does not know there are different types of sailors. He preferred to think of the worst kind, so I let him."
"You have a secret deviousness that astonishes me, but I do appreciate it." She giggled.
Little Julia had been listening closely. She had recognised one interesting word there. "Gramma and Julia have a secret. Gramma is kissy."
"Julia, if you tell me about it, it is no longer a secret," said Clementine. "Or you should say Gramma and Julia and Mama have a secret."
"I am kissy too."
"Yes, we know."
"As we were shopping, I kept seeing admirals, or rather, they kept seeing me," Julia related to Julian when they were at dinner. She had already told him about George, which had been her main purpose for going to town.
He laughed. "They were shopping too?"
"It was admiral parading hour. I had only met them once or twice, but they all greeted me. Lady Pritchard was much intrigued. She now thinks I was a hit among them." She groaned, fearing that her neighbour might at some point want her to use her connections for something dreadfully social.
"Oh, why not?" asked her nephew magnanimously.
"You have never seen me at a party. I do not talk to people. How could I be a hit?" Julia still considered that impossible. She was too silent and her manner was not inviting.
"I do not know. I am not an admiral."
"I rather think that since they live in each other's pockets --"
Julian interrupted her. "-- you had to join them and parade at the same hour."
"Bah," she told him. But it was amusing that unwittingly she had chosen the same hour to be there, since she did not suppose they walked there all day.
"But I am glad to hear you met people other than George."
She rolled her eyes. "Because I am such a recluse, I know. Gerald told me so."
"Gerald? Is that not your brother?" asked Julian. "Was he in town too?"
"He usually is. Why go to one's estate?" Estates were boring places where one might even be asked to think about its management. It was much easier to remain in town where one did not have to think of anything but fashion. She shuddered at the outfit he had worn.
Seemingly Clementine made a connection. "Gerald? Oh, also known as Uncle Gerald?"
Julia gave her a sharp look. She had completely forgotten that they might have met. "What do you know about him?" She hoped it was nothing too distressing.
"Er ... he was..." her voice faltered and she cast down her eyes. "He was one of Daniel's friends. I am sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" Julia did not think anything had been Clementine's fault and certainly not that friendship.
"Because I know neither of you like hearing about that time and I would rather not give you pain."
"You do not," Julian assured her as he squeezed her hand. "Not me." He glanced at his aunt.
"Gerald knows exactly how I feel about that period." Julia answered, her tone implying that her brother would not have had any reason to be pleased at hearing her opinion. "And you cannot give me any pain by saying you know him. I had forgotten that you must."
"Not very well. But I remember thinking it amusing that he was Uncle Gerald when he was under thirty."
"He is over thirty now and he ought to be wiser than still to live that kind of life." Perhaps it was not only for his own sake that she wished he would abandon it, but also for her own. If Gerald could change, then Daniel might have done so too. She would never be able to think of other young men without considering him. Clementine would have her think positively, but if all the evidence were negative, how could she?
"And you told him so in town," Julian deduced from her tone and expression.
"I did -- whereupon he told me I was a recluse and..." Julia gestured tiredly. "The usual insults between siblings with different tastes. You must know, Julian." He had had his own share of trouble with regard to his brother. Not all of it had been settled amicably.
"I am glad you think I have other tastes than George."
"Gerald would call you a recluse too."
"Did you not tell Gerald that for a recluse you were an amazing hit with all the admirals?" Julian asked with a mischievous look.
"Julian!" But then she smiled. "No. I did not even tell him I had married one. He thinks I married the worst kind of sailor."
"Which is really devious of you, Aunt Julia," Clementine cut in. She seemed to have recovered from her notion that she was giving them pain. "Do you plan to have him meet the admiral so he can see how wrong he was?"
"Oh, I hardly know. I merely wished to end the conversation. You must not think I had any impressive rational considerations for saying what I did -- or what I did not. I did not want him to meet Lady Pritchard and so the conversation happened by accident."
"Julia, do not do that," Clementine said reprovingly when her daughter hit her in the stomach. "Remember the baby."
Little Julia wriggled herself down to the floor and lifted the hem of her mother's gown. "I want to see."
"No, you cannot see. It is not under Mama's gown. It is in my stomach. Be nice to the baby. Do not hit it."
"No, I love the baby." She climbed back onto her mother's lap and started talking in a soft voice. "Baby? Baby? I love you, baby. Come out."
She was allowed to talk and play until it began to bore Clementine that she was a sort of toy. "Sit with your grandmother for a while. Mama must do something."
Julia had been watching, but she had refrained from saying that this was indeed what came of enlightening the girl. Clementine had been fearing she might, she knew, but she supposed that if Clementine had stuck to the notion that the admiral was away shopping for babies, little Julia would have spent these last fifteen minutes being persistent about that.
Little Julia obeyed her mother and began to feel her grandmother's stomach instead. Either she now thought all ladies carried babies or there was genuinely something that could be felt. Julia did not think there was, not yet, but she was hardly given any time to wonder.
"I love Gramma's baby too," little Julia announced.
Clementine gave them a serious look. She laid her work aside and came to lift her daughter off her aunt's lap. "Do not tease Grandma," she said softly.
"Gramma?" little Julia said, kicking her legs in the air in protest. "I want to speak with your baby."
"Leave her, Clementine. I do not mind," Julia said graciously.
"But -- but she will now start to touch every woman she sees!"
That, Julia almost wanted to say, was the direct and inevitable result of telling the little girl where Mama's baby was, but Clementine was obviously already realising this and there was no need to be cruel. "I hope you told her men cannot have babies, or she would touch them too," she said instead.
"What good would that do?" Clementine said dejectedly, lowering little Julia onto Julia's lap again. "I told her Mamas, but obviously she thinks what she will! You were right. I should not have told her at all."
Julia smiled reassuringly, not only because Clementine appeared to be less perceptive than her daughter in this instance. "She is only three. Her victims will very likely think it amusing rather than embarrassing."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Julia often sat with Clementine and Mrs. Newman and listened as they discussed children and related matters. Usually her hands were occupied and her eyes were focused on her work, so it never appeared that she was interested. Clementine had asked her questions too, but she had been startled and said she knew nothing, for fear of revealing her interest. It was even true; she did not know any more than Clementine. It was all so long ago and she had been so unaware. Listening suited her much better. She wondered why Clementine could have questions, so shortly after having had Julia. That had only been three years ago. She ought to remember everything.
"Are we not boring you?" Clementine asked only after days.
Julia had been staring ahead, lost in thought. She wondered if that had given the impression that she was bored. "Er...oh, I was not listening," she lied. "Do carry on."
She had heard interesting as well as boring things, but there was always her sewing if it became too much. She had already produced two half baby gowns, one to work on in public and one to work on in the privacy of her room. The public one was going faster. That was not much of a problem, since she also had a dress for little Julia to work on if she was finished. There was still plenty of time, too.
Mr. Newman, although he had once raised his eyebrows at her nausea, had not made any suggestive remarks since her return from town. It made sense that he would be so teasing now. Julia had not known how to draw him out. He always told Mrs. Newman everything, but even she had not said anything.
Nobody had, except little Julia and she had said that only on one occasion.
Julia had climbed up to the storage attics with the housekeeper. Together they had looked through the items that had been stored almost three decades ago. It had all been put there to wait for a new child, but nobody could have fathomed that it would take so long for one to come and at some point everyone had forgotten that everything was still there. Mrs. Shaw had not even been housekeeper then.
Julia had not said for which child it was needed now and the housekeeper had not asked. Some things were to be cleaned and checked if they could still be used, all discreetly. Now that she thought about that request, perhaps the need for discretion had given it all away. There was no need to be discreet about preparing anything for Clementine's child. Such an event would have been expected to occur ever since Julian had married.
"Ow!" She stabbed the needle into her knee when she realised she would not be living here anymore when John returned. Presumably they would return to his house in town. She would go through all this discreet trouble to set up a nursery and then they would travel to town where there was nothing. Fortunately she realised this now and not in June. There was still time to write and make arrangements.
As soon as she had the opportunity, she seated herself at her writing desk and addressed a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Sheppard. This should have occurred to her while she was still in town, but in the giddiness that had followed upon her tentative acceptance of the truth she had not thought of it. They might think her strange for not having brought this up in person and she would have to include some apology.
I am sorry to have to trouble you on this matter. You told me about the household budget and how it was generous enough to take care of eventualities such as the roof blowing off the house. I hope no such thing has happened so far (and that it never will) and that the budget still allows for extra expenditures. I would ask you if some of it could be devoted to setting up a simple nursery. I did not think there was one in the house. Simple will do very well. A child will not see the difference. Please let me know if I should travel to town or if there is any problem with regard to money. When I was last in town I did not yet know such arrangements needed to be made.
The Sheppards might also guess for whose child they would need to set up a nursery, although she had deliberately not been specific or jubilant. If it went wrong -- which she felt would not happen -- it could be used for Clementine's child.
The letter was finished and she sat looking out of the window. There was so much to arrange. It was amazing that it took months of careful preparation to deal with the effects of something so brief and so thoughtless.
She did not know when it had occurred. It could well have been that first time, the result of that tiny little tug on his shirt. What else could he have done but respond to the order? If there was one thing she would never do it was to blame anybody for that occasion. She would think back on it with the deepest gratitude. It had been wise of her to choose kissing over talking, very wise. What if they had talked? They might not have been married so quickly and she would never have gone to sea with him.
It might also have happened there. If she was ever required to tell anyone that it might also have happened during those weeks at sea, they would snicker about hammocks again. Unfortunately for them she did not know whether they could be shared.
Mrs. Williamson had written back and Julia read her reply with much excitement. First her sister-in-law thanked her for the family tree. It had made matters much clearer for her. Then she provided a family tree of her own family, which was interesting to Julia in itself, but the subsequent comments about it were so even more.
As you see, my parents displayed no great creativity or originality when it came to naming us, but my father does not expect such simplicity from us. He believes any name will do if it is not too confusing. (I do not think he would be confused by a grandson with his name, although I have not contributed to this lack of originality myself by naming my sons after him.)
Julia had noticed that and she wondered if Elizabeth had left that duty or honour to one of her brothers. She had not named her sons after her brothers either, but she had chosen names that had not yet been used in this family, perhaps only in her husband's.
Of course it is only speculation on my part. My father, upon seeing me draw the family tree, told me to leave room for Frederica, but I have no idea where he means to place her. I did not have any good news for him, at any rate. He has read your letter, but he is not privy to what I am writing. Perhaps he means to address you on his own and if so, I apologise in advance. Perhaps it is good that you will have problems deciphering his handwriting.
She did not know what Mr. Henson could have to say to her. There was no letter from him. Perhaps he meant to expound on Frederica. She pondered that name. Elizabeth did not appear to have claimed the name for a daughter and it was clear from her words that she was not expecting a child. Was Frederica not awfully fancy for someone who had named his children John, Elizabeth and William? If he had enough imagination to come up with such a derivative of his own name, why then had he settled for John?
Julia had not yet reckoned with the possibility of a girl. Frederica. If she had to choose something like that, she would prefer Francesca, if she was honest. Francesca had a nice ring to it, melodious and flowing, but she would see if Mr. Henson had anything to say.
Mr. Henson's letter arrived the day after, as if he had taken a little longer to compose one. Elizabeth had been correct; his handwriting was incredibly difficult to decipher.
Dear Lady Julia,
You are under no obligation to name it Frederica or Frederick, although neither
choice would meet with disapproval here.
Julia stared at this blunt jump into the middle of the topic. From her letter it was unclear whether Elizabeth had understood why she had written, but apparently Mr. Henson did not want to leave any room for doubt. If he knew, it was very likely that his daughter did so as well. She had apologised in advance, had she not? As if she had known her father was going to be direct.
I may have stunned you now, but I cannot imagine why else you would be making inquiries about the names in our family. My son will very likely not have an opinion, so you are on your own. You struck me as a lady of sense and I trust you will make a good choice. If you require any assistance in other matters you need only write.
She was on her own. Frederick would be appreciated, but it was not compulsory. She did not mind Frederick. It would do well for a boy. John would not have an opinion, it said here, but she was tempted to think he would only be decided against a little Julian or a little John, having seen how confusing a little Julia could be.
Since she was counting on a boy, she was not really reckoning with having to persuade John to like a fancy and elegant name like Francesca. What would he call a little Francesca who waddled like a duck? Something akin to Betsy, perhaps. She would like to see that and although she felt it was going to be a boy, she amused herself fantasising about it.
It suddenly occurred to Julia that she not know what Julian and Clementine would want to name their child. What if it was Frederick? Or Frederica? Or Francesca? This was a distressing thought for a while until she practised asking them. It required a good reason for wanting to know.
"Julian," she said when she saw him alone. It was best to spread the risk and speak to him and not Clementine. "Have you already thought of a name?"
He did not even have to think what or whom he needed to name. "I have not."
Julia was taken aback by this unexpected answer. She had thought he would have decided already. It was unusual for him to have delayed it. He always took action directly. He should do so now as well, because she wanted him to. "But...when will you?"
He gave her distressed face an intrigued look. "Later."
She remembered her story. "But ... what could I embroider? Which initial?"
"Embroider?" He would almost ask what that was.
"Embroidery does not appear overnight," she lectured. It required some time and close attention if she wanted it to look well. "It takes work."
"So do babies."
She knew exactly how much or how little work they took and she felt her cheeks grow hot. "Julian!"
"Could I not tell you a week before the birth? Or after? The baby would not notice the absence of his or her initials on napkins." Julian looked amused.
That was of course true. A baby would not care and thus he won the argument. Julia pouted. She did not yet want to tell him how important it was to know and how important it was to know it this instant and not a day later.
"All right. J," he conceded.
"J? You will run out of names!" she exclaimed in her relief that it was no F. What was he planning, another J next to Julia? Was that to become a tradition?
"Really? It will not come that far. That would take a lot of work." He ran away laughing.
Julia was left standing alone, bemused by his juvenile escape. And this man was going to be a father? She knew one who was going to be much better. Another six months and then she would know for certain.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
March came without any trouble. Julia continued to be in excellent health and so did Clementine, but the latter grew at a much faster rate. Their gowns were very concealing, for which Julia was very glad, despite her modest growth. She had still not told anybody. Hilary knew and she supposed Mrs. Shaw did too, but they were discreet.
Little Julia was the only person besides Hilary who ever entered her rooms. She still frequently came to sleep there, something that Julia had not minded at all until she needed a place for the cradle. The little girl talked too much, so she had to find a way to justify having a cradle there. The fact would undoubtedly be revealed.
"Gramma, how is your baby today?" little Julia inquired one morning when they woke.
"My baby is doing very well." She was surprised at the question, but she answered very evenly. Little Julia had not mentioned the baby for weeks, but nothing was ever forgotten.
"Can I feel?" A small hand was already stretched out.
"Yes, but there is not much to be felt. This is my baby," she said with a sudden burst of inspiration, picking up John the admiral doll, now clothed in a very pretty dark blue coat. The yellow curls still looked somewhat out of place. She had to see about dying them and cutting the curl out -- although this was little Julia's doll and such maiming might not be appreciated.
"John!"
"Yes, John. Do you not think John needs a bed of his own? Like you? He is getting quite big, is he not?" She set John on his legs and studied him. Of course he had not grown an inch, but perhaps the little girl would be fooled.
"Yes, I am big!" Julia crowed in a squeaky voice.
Little Julia pressed her hands to her mouth in delight. "He can talk!"
Julia was not certain whether her granddaughter was delighted at her silliness or at the talking doll. After a moment she supposed Julia really believed that John had spoken, because the doll was all at which Julia was looking. "Of course he can talk. He is big. Are you not, John?"
"Yes, Mama!" John replied. "I want my own bed."
"She is Gramma!" little Julia corrected. "Not Mama."
"No," Julia said in her own voice. "If it is my child, he should call me Mama."
Little Julia never cared much for immediately heeding a correction. Sometimes she ignored them completely. "Give him his own bed!"
"Yes, a bed!" John agreed, raising his arms and jumping up and down. "I am big!"
Julia changed her voice. "Shall we get John a bed, Julia?" She was excited and proud of her own cleverness. Little Julia was playing right into her hands, being such a good girl and she would probably tell everybody that John had wanted a new bed.
"Yes! Where?"
"We go and ask Mrs. Shaw if she has a bed for John. Shall we do that?" She perched John on her arm like a child and held Julia by the hand.
"Gramma, you must dress before you go downstairs." It would not be fair that Grandma could do what she was never allowed to do.
"Oh." In her excitement she had forgotten she was still in her nightgown. She had never been so careless before. "Yes, thank you. Will you ring for Hilary then?"
When they were both dressed they went to see the housekeeper. "Mrs. Shaw, this is John," Julia said, indicating the doll on her arm with perfect seriousness. "He has grown so big that Julia and I thought..." She paused for a second, checking to see whether little Julia was still in agreement, but she was. "...that John might need his own bed in my room."
"His own bed," Mrs. Shaw repeated, glancing at the doll.
"Perhaps a cradle," Julia said with an imploring look. She hoped the housekeeper would understand her. This was the only way she could get that cradle into her room unobtrusively.
"A cradle."
"John wants a bed," said little Julia. "Yes, John?"
John nodded. Julia was not going to let him talk in front of Mrs. Shaw, but she could move his head without doing any damage to her image.
Mrs. Shaw spoke. "I think I have a cradle somewhere, but I thought..."
"Please?" Julia begged.
"John, speak," little Julia ordered. "Tell Mrs. Shaw you want the bed."
"I want the bed," John spoke in a quivering voice.
Mrs. Shaw gasped for breath. "Er..."
"Please?" Julia begged, a blush on her cheeks now. She must be appearing incredibly silly. "Could you have the cradle placed in my rooms? I thought it would be a good ... diversion."
"Diversion. Yes. I had not known for certain..." The housekeeper looked a little dazed. "But I had been suspecting that ... John might require his own bed."
Julia's eyes glowed. "He does. In my room. I like to keep all Johns in my room. If I cannot have one, I must have the other." Perhaps that confirmed the housekeeper's suspicions even more.
"John is Gramma's baby," little Julia interjected.
"She named him," Julia said apologetically. She touched the doll's flaxen curls. "I thought he looked more like a girl, but she wanted to name him John."
"John looks like Mama, with Papa's coat and Ammiral's buttons," little Julia remarked. "I took him out of Gramma's stomach this morning."
"Did you!" Mrs. Shaw exclaimed.
"Yes, did you?" Julia added, much amused to hear something had been taken out of her stomach. "I wish it could always be as painless and unnoticeable as that!"
"He wants to go to bed now," said her granddaughter. "He is tired."
"She has such a vivid imagination," Julia said, giving her an affectionate look.
"She is not the only one, My Lady!" Mrs. Shaw commented with a laugh. "But I had the cradle checked and it was still good. The draperies and the mattress were also still good. They have lain wrapped up well all these years and the moths have not got to them."
Julia breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh! I expected the worst! That saves some work then."
"I shall have them hung out and aired and then I shall have the cradle set up for Master John."
Julia felt very happy with herself. Everything was going splendidly and according to plan. She had arranged that very well. The cradle would be placed in her room and little Julia would tell everybody that it was for John the doll. People would believe such an explanation because it was exactly the sort of thing a small child would say. Doting grandmother that she was, she could only go along with it.
Breakfast was eaten with a little smile that never left her face, after which she took little Julia for a long walk through the park. She walked every day, but usually alone. Her unwitting accomplice now deserved to be treated to a nice walk, however. They skipped along the paths and lanes, sometimes singing nursery rhymes that little Julia loved.
When they returned some two hours later, the cradle had been installed in her room and John the doll had been placed in it already. His blue admiral coat was draped over the side. Someone had undressed him and put him to bed. Julia was touched. She wondered if Hilary had been responsible for these attentions, but when she looked out of the window she knew it had to be someone else.
Hilary was just crossing the park towards the servants' entrance, by the looks of it having an animated discussion with someone Julia recognised as Julian's valet, Jones. She opened the balcony doors and stepped out, leaning her elbows on the railing to observe this a little better. Hilary and Jones. She had every right to observe this pairing, for it might lead to her losing her maid.
Julia rang for Hilary as soon as she thought she might get a response. It indeed brought her to the room a minute later.
"Er..." Hilary gasped upon seeing the cradle. She had thought it was too soon for a baby.
"Julia's doll will have his own bed until it is needed for somebody else and it will stand in my room until then," Julia explained before she would receive a question. The cradle was not important now. It was something else.
"Oh."
"But that is not why I rang for you. Have you been to the village?"
"Yes, My Lady."
Julia wondered if such a calm answer was supposed to fool her. Hilary did not often answer with such excessive reverence. "I saw you return with Jones. Are you good friends?"
Hilary kept a noncommittal expression. "Yes, My Lady."
Julia decided not to waste any time. This could go on for a while. She would not receive a direct answer until she asked a direct question. "Will it ever be more than that?"
There was a flash of indignation on the maid's face. "He truly believes that His Grace cannot spare him for long enough to ... to ... even think about it!"
"What nonsense is that!" Julia exclaimed. "What is on his mind when he walks into the village with you?"
"I do not know."
"From up here it certainly looked as if you had his undivided attention." The discussion had been animated enough to give her that impression. There was not much reserve or reluctance on either side. Jones had certainly not had his mind on any errands he had run for Julian.
"Were you to ask him directly, he would deny it," Hilary said pessimistically.
Perhaps it mattered that she might take Hilary away from here again. Jones would not see much of her if that happened and he might be a little cautious as a result. Julia considered parting with Hilary. That would only be negotiable if Jones was a worthy sort of fellow. If he kept saying he had no time for her he would never be worthy. "He must not trifle with you in such a manner, Hilary."
"If only he would!"
"I had best disregard that remark. I think I should ask Jones about his intentions. I cannot allow him to trifle with you." If he could not tell Hilary anything he might reveal something to her, especially if she accused him of trifling.
Hilary cast down her eyes. "No, My Lady."
Julia frowned at that dejected attitude. A moment ago Hilary had said he had not trifled with her, but she was not reacting with the expected indignation now. Apparently she thought her mistress was completely against any acquaintance. Julia reserved the right to be in favour. "Please ask Jones to see me in my private sitting room."
Hilary curtseyed with a sort of choke and hurried out of the room.
Julia had never expected to have to solve such problems and she giggled uncertainly. She was hardly an expert on matters of a romantic nature, but she would wager she was still a greater expert than Jones. And why not add another to the list of young men she had quizzed and reprimanded?
"Jones," Julia acknowledged the valet, studying him closely because she had never done so before. She had known him by sight, but she had never really looked at him. The young man would not stand out in company, neither by nature nor by design. She approved of such modesty in a valet, although perhaps in Jones this modesty bordered a little too much on the stiffness. He stood erect and wary. "About Hilary..." she began.
He did not flinch. "Yes, My Lady?" he asked with perfect composure, as if it was an ordinary occurrence to be summoned to this sitting room to discuss her lady-in-waiting.
Julia decided to use the same tactic as on her maid, directness. "What do you think of Hilary?" She could have asked what Hilary thought of him, but her wish to be trifled with was perhaps enough of an answer. Poor Hilary, to want this man to be less stiff!
There was some blinking now. "In which sense, My Lady? I am not qualified to say whether she does her work well."
She almost sighed. Even directness did not work. "This is not about her work, although I disagree with you and think that you ought to be able to see whether she does her work well. But that is not in question. It has come to my attention that you have been accompanying Hilary to the village."
"Yes, we both had errands there." Jones kept his hands stiffly clasped behind his back. He would clearly defend his need to run errands.
Julia was not interested in challenging that answer. She did not doubt that there had really been something to purchase. "I saw you from my balcony and you seemed great friends." She kept her voice friendly. Perhaps he would relax if she seemed to approve.
Jones looked uncertain now.
"You are, are you not?" she said coaxingly.
"We are acquainted," he agreed. His caution was evident.
"I know you are acquainted. You do not have to tell me that. I wish to know the extent to which you are acquainted." She could not help speaking more sharply now. "And I wish for your answer to equal nothing less than great friends."
"I do not understand you, My Lady."
"Oh, do not lie. You understand me very well. Tell me you are great friends." The man might even have problems saying such a thing, despite her order. "Would you show your friend that courtesy?"
"We are great friends," he repeated obediently, but after some hesitation.
"I would like to know, Mr. Jones, if you have any intentions of deepening your friendship." That was apparently a very difficult question, for there was no answer. "Let me rephrase it then. If there was nothing in your way, would you have any intentions?"
Chapter Forty
Jones had simply walked out of the room. Julia was still stunned. He had walked away when she had asked him if he had any intentions towards Hilary. Was it such an odd question? From her point of view it was perfectly understandable. She could not run after a servant. He should have stayed.
Perhaps she could talk to Julian about this. He might know what his valet had been doing and if he did not, he deserved to know. If there was anything brewing, one of them might lose their trusted assistant. Perhaps it was already beyond the brewing stage. What had Hilary done when Julia had been at sea? She might have helped out with Clementine and little Julia, but it would have left her enough time to herself. Perhaps she had assisted Jones as well.
Where would Jones go now? If he had gone to commiserate with Hilary she would know enough. If he was indeed commiserating with Hilary he would not expect her to come after him. "Let us be unexpected," she decided. She knew where Hilary's room was. One could not have lived here for almost thirty years without knowing, despite not going there often.
She knocked and then waited a second before she entered. She was not surprised by what she saw, but they evidently were. Jones jumped up and knocked against the table. There was a rustling of fabric as something that had lain on the table slid to the floor. Pins rattled in a box, but they did not fall.
"Oh no!" Hilary cried, although little damage had been done. Her eyes were already red and she did not need very much to distress her further. This was quite enough.
Julia observed that it was an undergown that had slid off the table. Jones was at least gallant enough to pick it up for Hilary, but he used only the tips of his fingers, afraid as he was of touching something so unmistakably feminine. She crossed her arms and wondered if she was unnecessarily cruel to distress these people so. There was no avoiding it, however. She had to know.
"Well," she said when everyone and everything had been restored to a respectable position. "I knew you would be here, but I would like a word with Hilary. Stay seated and leave the table in place," she warned Jones. "She will be back."
Hilary followed her out of the room. She was on the verge of tears.
Julia regarded her with interest. She wondered what Jones had said. It must not have been very positive. He also did not appear to have embraced Hilary and offered to elope with her. "Has he trifled with you yet, Hilary?"
"No, he has not."
That was not so surprising, given his apparent awkwardness. Perhaps the man required only a little assistance. "Kiss him."
Hilary looked astonished.
"It worked on me," Julia said, beginning to doubt her sanity. This was perhaps not the right kind of advice, not for these people. She was insane as well as scandalous. "Although perhaps you should start on an easier scale."
"What about our positions?"
"It can be done in any position," Julia said without much thought.
"Shall we be dismissed?" Hilary asked with a deep blush. "From our positions."
"Oh, such a position," Julia realised, blushing too now. The admiral would have a fit if he heard her -- of laughter, naturally. She must remember to tell him. "My nephew and I may need to make arrangements -- if he agrees and if you expressed such a wish. Jones does not seem ready for it yet. If he continues to be so awkward about anything female, you will not be happy."
Hilary began to look more hopeful, in spite of Jones' awkwardness. "Suppose he does have intentions, could he address me?"
"If he does so before the admiral returns."
"What then?"
"The admiral will take me away," Julia said patiently. "To town. You will be expected to come with me. And remember, you know what comes of being in the same room." She laid a hand on her stomach.
Her maid looked certain of the fact that something like that would not happen. "Thank you, My Lady, but he is more gentlemanly than a gentleman."
Julia raised her eyebrows. Her husband was apparently less gentlemanly than a gentleman, since being in the same room with him had had such effects. "And the admiral, in your opinion..."
"In Mr. Jones' opinion," Hilary corrected quickly, realising her impertinence.
"Do share Mr. Jones' opinion on the admiral. Be honest with me. What of his conduct?"
Hilary hesitated for a few seconds until she could come up with a tactful answer. "He has a higher opinion of His Grace because His Grace conducted himself better before the wedding."
"Ignorance is laudable indeed. I believe His Grace did not possess enough knowledge to misbehave and Her Grace did her best to keep him ignorant." Julia caught herself sneering a little when she ought to admire them. "But I do wonder how Mr. Jones knew how the admiral conducted himself. It could only be because someone told him."
"How else could I warn the admiral's valet that the servants would talk if the admiral continued not to sleep in his bed?" Hilary asked with a defensive look.
"Was there any reason to involve Jones?" Julia answered irritably, although she did understand. It had been the only possible course of action.
"I only told him he should warn Beckett he should make the bed look as if it had been used." Tears welled up in Hilary's eyes again. "Because..."
"Yes, I know." She closed her eyes. "But I do not like to hear -- now that I think of it I remember that my nephew's conduct was not entirely blameless at all and it probably does Jones credit that his loyalty has made him forget that instance. If he even knows his master visited a lady at night."
"He does not disapprove of the admiral, but he approves more of His Grace." Hilary still looked unhappy.
"If that is so he would have a slight problem if he decides to pursue you and we decide to trade him for Beckett," Julia realised. "Then he would have to work for the admiral."
Hilary was unable to comment.
"Of course you could always choose to be traded yourself, but I would not like that," Julia had to admit. "I would only be appeased by knowing it was for the best. I do not know it now. I asked him about his intentions and he walked away."
"He should not have done that," her maid said in a soft voice.
Julia shrugged and returned downstairs. There was nothing else she could do now.
As she leant over the cradle where John the doll was still sleeping peacefully, she practised a letter to John the admiral. Not much of the affair affected him, except if she decided to deprive him of his trusted Beckett to give him Jones in return. That might be something he would not allow her to arrange. She was not certain. Jones would afford him plenty of amusement, but she would not like it either if he suddenly decided she had to give up Hilary.
Perhaps she should not write about it. Nothing would change until he returned anyway. She would remain here and no servants would have to change households until she left, by which time this infatuation of Hilary's might have blown over entirely. It might alarm Beckett unnecessarily, provided the letter reached the admiral.
She wondered again if she should write about her good news. Her decision had been not do to so, but she had not been absolutely certain then about her condition. It was difficult not to be absolutely certain now. She might not be as visibly rounding as Clementine, not yet, but in a few weeks she might not be able to hide her condition. It was already all too clear without clothing.
If she must shock her husband, perhaps she would prefer to do so in person. She was undeniably curious how he would react. It was best to wait.
As she thought about other people's reactions, she wondered if and when the Sheppards would write back.
They did so a few days later. It was to be expected that the conclusion they had drawn was the right one -- the nursery was needed for a child of the admiral's. They expressed their happiness and delight upon reading this wonderful news. Julia could not help but enjoy reading their letter. She would have to write them again to reassure them about that nursery. Although she had written that a simple nursery was good enough, they seemed to fret and they did not trust their own judgement.
She walked out and wondered. How was it possible that she was the only who had considered herself too old?
And how was it possible that she had the urge to give the rowing boat a try? She had seen the boathouse and she had gone inside, despite having harboured some unkind feelings towards water. The water had not made her ill, she now knew. Perhaps it deserved to be given another try.
She knew what to do; she had watched. The river was calm. It would not be very difficult to row to the pond. Indeed, her first pulls on the oars only gave her more courage. Before she reached the pond, she saw a little boy with a net. Julia manoeuvred the boat so that she could speak to him. "Should you be there?" she inquired, planting one oar into the riverbed to keep still.
"Yes," he answered.
"Does your father know?"
"Yes."
She looked around, but she did not see his father. "What if you fell in?" She felt concerned. He could so easily fall in if he leant forward a little bit too far.
"I am fishing," he said, as if she ought to know he had no plans whatsoever to fall in.
"Oh. Is your mother home?" She could always tell Mrs. Newman about it.
"My mother is always home. I shall not catch any fish if you stay there," he told her, inspecting his net again. It was still empty.
"Thomas, you will never catch anything if you keep pulling the net out. You do not give a fish any time to swim into it." She pushed her boat away and decided to moor at the Newmans' pier.
As she climbed onto the pier, she realised she had not felt queasy for an instant. That was good and she smiled as she walked along the path to the Newmans' house.
"Mr. Newman, your son is fishing all by himself!" she said when she perceived him coming out of the house.
He had two apples in his hand. "I know that. Have you just come from the river?" He sounded amazed.
"Yes. Are you not afraid he will drown?"
"Were you not afraid you would drown?"
"I saw the admiral wade through the river and the water is lower now. It never occurred to me to be afraid of drowning. I only feared feeling sick, but I did not feel it."
He looked past her, as if he was expecting something else. "Did Julian row you?"
"No, he did not. Should you not --" She stopped and waved her hand. "It is not my child. I am going to row on."
He followed her.
"I think --" She lowered herself onto the pier so that she could get back into the boat without problems. "-- that you should not be watching this."
© 2005, 2006 Copyright held by the author.