Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (10 page)

"I hadn't intended it, no. Do you have family whom you wish to be present?"

Judith seized on this point, like a person dragged by a runaway horse digging their heels into the dirt. "Yes. You haven't asked me about my family."

"They don't have any bearing on my decision. You're more than welcome to have them at your wedding."

"I have three brothers and two sisters," she said in a rush. "My father's the curate at Hunstead, and I wish him to perform the service."

"Very well. Perhaps we should drive over there soon, and tell them the good news."

Judith bit her lip. Would he change his mind when he met her impoverished family? But he knew her to be poor. Would her family reveal what a silly romantic she had been at sixteen? He would think all that sentiment expended on Sebastian.

"That would be pleasant," she said, gathering her well-practiced composure around her like a cloak.

He put his stylish hat on his head, achieving a precise, elegant angle without apparent effort. "I'm sure the Ardens will allow a gathering at Hartwell after the ceremony. Will three weeks from today be convenient?"

Judith nodded.

"You can leave everything in my hands," he said, then added with a smile, "except, of course, your wardrobe. I suggest you let Beth Arden take you into Guildford. There must be someone there able to furnish some tolerable gowns. I'll pay the accounts, of course. Don't stint yourself. There's money to spare. Buy clothes for the children, too, if they need them, and any other treats they would like."

"You'll spoil them," she protested.

"A little indulgence won't spoil them. It will merely bring them closer to their future station in life. After Christmas, I will arrange for Bastian to have a tutor to prepare him for Harrow."

The runaway horse was off again, despite her dug-in heels. "Thank you."

"And a governess for Rosie."

"Of course." This all seemed like the wildest dream. Judith sought a point of solidity. "My lord, where are we to live?"

He was engaged in pulling on his soft leather gloves. "Why at Temple Knollis, of course. Where else? We should be there in time for Christmas."

* * *

"You're going to marry Lord Charrington, Mama?"

"Will you be 'my lady'?"

"Will he live here with us?"

Judith faced her excited children in their kitchen. "Yes, yes, and no."

"Where will we live, then?" asked Bastian with the anxiety of any child facing change. "Back at Mayfield House?"

"No, dear. In Somerset, at Lord Charrington's house. It's called Temple Knollis and it's supposed to be a splendid place."

"Somerset's a long way, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"So I won't see Georgie again."

She ruffled his curls gently. "I'm afraid not. But you'll make new friends."

Rosie said, "Will we dine off golden plates?"

Judith laughed. "Not if I have any say in the matter."

"Will I have silk gowns?"

Judith took in her patent longing and kissed her brow. "Not for every day, darling, but you may have one for the wedding, and for special occasions."

"Pink?" asked Rosie.

"If you wish."

"With lace and roses?"

Judith grimaced inwardly at the thought. "We'll see."

Bastian was somber, but then he suddenly said, "There'll be lots of horses, won't there?"

"I expect so."

And that seemed to settle that.

Chapter 5

The runaway horse was fully in action. The next day Leander escorted Judith and the children to church to hear the banns read for the first time. She was pricklingly aware of the stares of the villagers, and the wandering whispers.

After the service, some came forward to offer good wishes, and be introduced to her intended, but his aristocratic presence, and the attendance of the marquess and marchioness deterred most from anything but staring.

Judith knew they must be wondering about such a strange twist of fate, but she raised her chin and smiled as if it were the most commonplace of matters.

On Monday, she found herself in a coach with Lady Arden heading into Guildford on a shopping expedition.

"You probably think this a silly extravagance," said Lady Arden as they rolled along the Guildford road.

"No, I don't think that."

Lady Arden looked at her with surprise. "I was poor when I married, and the de Vaux virtually had to torture me to make me accept anything."

Judith didn't know what to say to such an extraordinary statement. If she admitted what a joy it would be to buy new things, she feared to be thought mercenary. In the end, she said, "Perhaps you were not in quite such desperate straits, my lady. One day these clothes are going to shred off my back."

Lady Arden's attention was arrested. "You are correct. I was never truly poor. There was always food, and decent clothing, with two new dresses every year."

Judith smiled sadly. "And time."

"Well, I was employed as a teacher, but yes, there was time." She smiled warmly. "I'm pleased to see that you are not being coerced to this. Now we can have fun. I must confess, I'm still opposed to wanton excess, but a modest selection of becoming garments cannot be a sin, particularly as we will be patronizing local workers. In these hard times that is a duty."

Judith fretted she might have sounded too enthusiastic about giving up her blacks. "I would prefer to wear sober colors, of course, but I fear Lord Charrington would not like it."

Dear heaven, but she hated duplicity.

"No, he wouldn't," Lady Arden agreed. "It is not my place to advise you, Mrs. Rossiter, and probably impertinent as I am some years your junior, but I would suggest you try to think of yourself as a bride rather than as a widow."

"Could you do that scarce twelve months after Lord Arden's death?"

Lady Arden paled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Judith. "You are newly-weds. It isn't a fair comparison."

"Not at all. I hope time doesn't make an alteration. You are right to take me to task, but still, if you are to do this at all, you must make the attempt to put the past behind you."

"I am willing to do that."

"And are you willing to call me Beth? I would like it very much, and that would give me permission to call you Judith, and be comfortable."

With this arranged Judith almost felt like a girl again. She had left behind a number of good friends upon her marriage but made none thereafter, for Sebastian and the children had demanded all her time. Since his death there had been even less leisure, and there had been the problem of her confused social station. By marriage and birth she was a lady, but in reality she was one of the village poor.

It would be pleasant to have a friend, even if only for a few weeks.

The carriage took them to the premises of Mrs. Lettie Grimsham, Guildford's foremost dressmaker. "I haven't patronized the lady," Beth said as they alighted, "but I'm told she is the best in the locality. I would suggest in any case that you order only the essentials. When you are settled in your new life you will have more idea of what you require."

Lettie Grimsham was short and very fat, with half a dozen jolly chins, and fingers like sausages. She clearly knew her business, which wasn't surprising as her thick accent revealed her to be French. She explained that she had come to England during the Terror and married Josiah Grimsham, a local corn factor.

When the lady waddled away to pick up her tape and pad, Beth leant sideways and whispered, "I've encountered a number of modistes with Gallic names who have clearly never been closer to France than Brighton. And here we have a Lettie Grimsham, no less, who is the genuine article."

The dressmaker took measurements which were noted by an assistant. Madame Grimsham was perceptive and shrewd. She made no comment about Judith's well-worn clothes, but produced swatches of cloth in the sober colors of half mourning.

Beth said, "We want something brighter. Mrs. Rossiter is to be a bride in a few weeks. In fact, why don't we start with a wedding gown?"

Madame Grimsham's black eyes brightened with delight. She studied Judith for a moment then called, "Sukie! Ze silk. Ze peach."

In a moment the assistant was back with a bale of wonderful silk, a golden peach figured with embroidered cream sprigs. Judith gasped at the beauty of it but said, "I don't think that is my color."

But she was herded into a private room and ordered to strip down to her stays. Then the dressmaker flung a length of the silk over her shoulder and wound it around. "Zere!" she demanded of Beth. "Am I not right?"

Judith looked at Beth as Beth's eyes widened. "Madame Grimsham, you are a genius," Beth said.

"C'est vrai,
"said the woman complacently. "I could 'ave gone to London, me, but Josiah would not like it zere, and I would not like it zere wizout 'im." She turned Judith to a mirror, and Judith's mouth fell open.

"I always thought blue my color."

"Because of ze eyes, yes? But your eyes need no extra glory, madame, and see how zis color lights up ze skin."

Indeed it did. Judith's complexion was good, though a little browned from outdoor work and walks, but she had thought it ordinary. Warmed by the peach silk, it had radiance, and the deep blue of her eyes stood out even more in the frame of it.

It gave an illusion of beauty.

The wedding gown was soon agreed on, in a simple, high-necked style. They chose a velvet spencer to go with it, and in view of the season, a brown Russian wrapping cloak, hooded, trimmed with fox, with muff to match.

Consulting pattern books and dolls, and riffling through swatches of materials, they had soon chosen: a deep green cloth pelisse with braid; two muslins with frills and lace; a warm round gown of soft pink cloth; another spencer of maroon gros de Naples; and an excessively fine evening dress of ivory lace over a peach satin slip. The latter had a vandyked bodice and a rouleau of brown and peach ribbon around the hem. In the illustration the bodice was cut to reveal a great deal of the bosom and Judith tried to amend this, but the other two ladies firmly overruled her.

"Judith," said Beth, "we have only chosen such a gown in case you should wish to attend an evening affair. In such a case a low neckline is
de rigueur."

"At this season?" Judith protested. "I'll freeze!"

"Such occasions are generally overheated, but we must purchase you some shawls in case." She looked at Mrs. Grimsham.

"Zere are places in Guildford where one can buy such items, milady, but perhaps not of ze quality...?" An expressive hand gesture dismissed such places, and reminded Judith of Lord Charrington's foreign manner. "As I will have to send to London for some of my materials for zis order," the dressmaker continued, "perhaps I could have suitable items sent...?"

Judith supposed the woman would make a handsome profit on this arrangement, but took some comfort from the fact that her good fortune was being spread. As Beth had pointed out, in these hard postwar days it was the duty of the fortunate to help others.

A perusal of Ackermann's led to a choice of an ivory silk scarf and a cashmere shawl, both English made. Mrs. Grimsham was sure she could procure something very similar.

The dressmaker promised that all items would be delivered by the wedding day, and sooner if possible, and offered to complete the pink dress quickly if required. Judith dismissed this. She had no desire to suddenly be peacocking about Mayfield in this finery, and in fact would find it ridiculous when there was so much work to be done. She would change her style when she changed her name.

Judith also gave Mrs. Grimsham Rosie's measurements and requested a warm wool dress suitable for traveling, and one of pink silk,
lightly
trimmed, for the wedding.

The dressmaker directed them to a tailor, a milliner she allowed to be tolerable, a shoemaker who knew his trade, and a good haberdashery establishment. Within a few hours, Judith had ordered or bought:

From the tailor—a smart suit, a warm coat, gloves, and cap for Bastian.