The Accidental Marriage (16 page)

It was odd, but he could scarcely recall what Angelica looked like. He retained a hazy impression of blonde curls and limpid blue eyes, but that was all.

Then his thoughts swung to the previous afternoon when he had driven Julia round the Park. She had looked charming in a pale blue pelisse, with a neat matching hat. She had also looked calm, though when he handed her into the phaeton he’d felt her hands trembling in his.

The news of his marriage had spread rapidly, and they were hailed continuously by friends and acquaintances who wanted to meet the bride and congratulate him. Many expressed surprise at the haste, many complimented Julia, but none mentioned Angelica. It was as though she had never existed, and Sir Carey was beginning to look on that episode in his life as some sort of distant dream.

He’d seen admiration in the men’s eyes, and known that the women were carefully assessing Julia’s clothes, and speculating on why she had managed to snare him when so many of them, in the past, had not been able to.

The more serious wanted to ask questions about the Congress, and debate the prospects of a resumption of hostilities if Napoleon could once more gather together an army.

‘Is Wellington going to take charge?’ one elderly man asked. ‘Why is he lingering in Vienna? Do you know, the two of them have never met in battle. That will be a clash of Titans, if it ever takes place.’

‘I have heard no news from Vienna since Boney escaped from Elba,’ Sir Carey told them. ‘I think it might be premature to break off all the negotiations too soon, until we see what success he has in rousing the French once more. They have taken so long to come to some agreement, and we don’t want to have to start all over again.’

‘No, by gad! It’s cost the Austrians a pretty penny, entertaining all those kings and hangers-on.’

Lord Castlereagh might have some news, but Sir Carey hoped he would not want to send him on some mission. He was eager to go home to Courtlands, not only to see the sisters he’d been away from for over six months, but to show his home to Julia. In some surprise, he realized that her opinion mattered to him. He’d liked her in Vienna, but appreciated her value during the past few weeks.

She had not complained once at the rigours of the journey. Comfortable as his travelling coach was, it was not ideal for four people trying to sleep as it was bounced over the icy ruts and the poor roads, made worse after the winter.

Already his London house seemed more like the home he remembered when his parents were alive. Could she work the same magic at Courtlands?

Fanny wished Julia was not leaving London. Courtlands was not a great distance, a day’s journey, but in Vienna she had come to depend on her sister a great deal, and having been so recently reunited with her it seemed unfortunate she was going away again.

She was grateful to Elizabeth, of course she was, but she didn’t feel able to talk about Frederick with quite the same freedom. After all, she and Mr Pryce scarcely knew him.

In the past she had accepted his dalliances with other women with resignation. So far as she could judge, most men had their flirts. Some men deserted their wives, but she was mortified at being of their number. To begin with she had wanted only that he would return to her, but as time went on and she heard nothing from him, she became worried. Where was he? Had they had an accident? Was he even dead? Surely, in such a case someone would have notified her.

She sent increasingly urgent messages to her butler at Greystones, asking if they had received any news, but the replies were always the same. Nothing had been heard. The children, at first, had asked almost every day when their father was coming home. Now, absorbed in the excitement of the journey and their new life with friends, they seemed to have forgotten about him. Perhaps, if he were dead, that was fortunate. They would not feel the loss so greatly.

How did she feel herself? She admitted privately that she was becoming angry rather than worried. If he did return, she thought with a sigh, she would probably accept him back. There was little else she could do, and despite it all she still loved him. She had nowhere to go. Her parents were dead, and they had few close relatives, no one closer than a second cousin, and he was an elderly bachelor who lived somewhere in the wilds of Devonshire and never came to London. She had only met him once, when she was about seven years old.

She roused herself from gloomy thoughts when Julia came into her room.

‘I came to see how you are, and say goodbye for a while,’ Julia said after she’d kissed Fanny.

‘I’m much the same as always,’ Fanny said. ‘At least I haven’t yet lost the child, and previously it was almost always before this stage.’

‘So you must take extra care if it seems you can carry this one,’ Julia said bracingly.

Fanny nodded, wishing Julia’s energy did not always make her feel weak and incompetent.

‘You’ll know how I feel when you’re pregnant yourself,’ she said. If Julia suffered from nausea and lassitude she might have more sympathy with her.

Julia was blushing slightly. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘We set off tomorrow, but I’m not sure how long we’ll be staying at Courtlands. Sir Carey wants to be back in London fairly soon.’

‘You’ll meet his sisters. Does he have any other family?’

Julia laughed. ‘A cousin, a most unpleasant man I had the misfortune to meet two days ago. He is, Sir Carey tells me, miserly in the extreme, spending only on a couple of dozen cats, and commissioning paintings and statues of the creatures. He was not pleased with our marriage.’

‘Oh? Why not?’

Julia hesitated. ‘I suppose he may have thought he would lose any inheritance. Apart from his sisters Sir Carey has no other heirs, so he might have expected to inherit something.’

‘Well, you’d better hurry up and produce a couple of sons.’

Julia nodded, then said she had so much to do she really ought to be getting back to Upper Brook Street. ‘Take care,’ she said, and kissed Fanny. ‘I’ll come and see how you do, and whether you have heard anything, as soon as we are back in London.’

* * * *

Julia breathed a sigh of relief as she went back home. She didn’t want to keep secrets from Fanny, but she knew her sister would be likely to pass on anything she was told. It wasn’t malice, simply that she did not think before speaking. If she knew the marriage was in name only, a business arrangement, she would not be able to refrain from speculating aloud about it. If she knew of the condition regarding Sir Carey’s thirtieth birthday and his inheritance, she would instantly suspect the marriage had been arranged solely with that in mind.

Julia had wondered about it herself. It seemed odd that Sir Carey, who had apparently been much courted ever since he had graced the
ton
, should choose to marry Angelica, a girl so much younger than himself, just months before his birthday. From what he said, his attachment had not survived the long separation while he had been in Vienna, but he had swiftly provided himself with another wife, and without any pause to allow her a chance to reflect and refuse.

She had to thrust these speculations to the back of her mind when she reached home. Molly was fretting about which clothes to pack, and Julia, not knowing whether they would be entertaining at Courtlands, or visiting neighbouring families, decided she had better take everything.

‘I don’t have such a great deal,’ she said.

‘We’ll need another trunk, though, if you take the clothes you had when you arrived.’

‘I think they might be more suitable to the country than London, so yes, we’ll take them. There must be some spare trunks somewhere. In the attics, I expect.’

‘I’ll ask Mrs Carter, and one of the footmen can bring it down.’

Julia left her to it, afraid she would begin to interfere. She had been so used to doing everything for herself it was difficult to remember she had people to do things for her. She went downstairs to the library. She’d been reading one of the new novels,
Waverley,
and wondering who the anonymous author was. She had just picked up the book when Sir Carey came into the room.

‘Julia, how is Lady Cunningham? You were planning to visit her, I believe?’

‘She’s fretful, but beginning to get angry with Frederick. I’m not sure if I want him to come home and discover he can’t treat her so badly, or whether it might upset her so much she’ll lose this child.’

‘We’ll be back in London soon, and you can support her. I understand Elizabeth Pryce is being a great help.’

‘Yes. I don’t know what we would have done without her. In all probability we’d still have been in Vienna, without any money, and only Frederick’s dreadful grandmother to depend on. And if Napoleon recruits another army, we’d have had little chance of getting back to England. Is there any more news?’

‘He’s marching north, towards Paris. I believe the King is preparing to flee.’

‘Giving up without fighting?’ Julia asked, disbelieving.

‘He probably suspects the citizens of Paris are not wholly with him.’

‘The rest of the European powers won’t want Napoleon restored. They are bound to mobilise against him.’

* * * *

Sir Carey chose to drive his curricle, saying it was a fine day and Julia would appreciate the countryside better in an open carriage. His valet and Molly could follow with the luggage.

‘You don’t have much,’ he teased Julia as they watched the trunks being loaded into the carriage the next morning.

‘I have all my clothes,’ she replied, startled.

‘All? Then did you obey my instructions to purchase three times what you thought you needed?’ he asked as he helped her into the curricle and gave the horses the office to move.

‘No, for that would have been far too much.’

He laughed. ‘Please, Julia, accept that I am wealthy, I can well afford to clothe my wife in a fashionable manner. Or are gowns much more expensive than I thought? Did you spend all the money I gave you?’

‘No,’ Julia admitted, ‘I will buy more later, when I am sure of what I need. But I can change the appearance of many of the gowns with different trimmings, and minor alterations,’ she pointed out. ‘I have been used to doing that in the past, and it’s quite easy.’

‘But it is not what you will be doing now. My wife will be a credit to me, with fashionable clothes. I think I had better accompany you on your next visit to the modistes.’

His tone was light, almost teasing, but Julia could hear the steel beneath the surface. Until now he had seemed mild, always calm, and she had a sudden realization that he could, if necessary, be implacable, even angry. She shivered. She would not wish to be the object of such anger.

He misunderstood. ‘Are you cold? Do you want another rug?’

‘No, thank you. Tell me about your sisters. I’m looking forward to meeting them.’

‘Caroline is fifteen, an indefatigable letter writer. She will be sixteen in September and has been plaguing me for months to let her make her come out next year. But she is still a child, and sixteen is too young. I’d like to delay it until she is eighteen, but I doubt I’ll be able to withstand her pleas. She won’t sulk, that’s never been her way, but she will mention it at every opportunity, telling me of all her friends who are going to be in London, and sighing that it would be so enjoyable to be there with them, and mortifying if she were left behind in the schoolroom while they were getting married.’

Julia laughed. ‘Friends? Does she go to school? Is that where she made friends?’

‘She has a good friend at the Rectory, Penelope, who was also at the school. Last year there was some trouble. One of the older girls eloped with an infantry officer, a lad not much older than herself, who had been billeted in the town with his regiment. The school was not sufficiently vigilant. Caroline is a romantic, and I could not risk her following suit. I took the girls home and they have had a governess since then. Penelope is two years older and no longer needs one. But Caroline writes endlessly to all her other schoolfriends.’

‘And her sister?’

‘Susan is twelve, much quieter, utterly absorbed in music. She plays the pianoforte, violin and harp, and has been asking if she could learn to play the flute.’

‘Goodness, she sounds talented. She was at the school too? Did they not mind leaving?’

‘Caroline objected for a while, until she realized she could have far more freedom at Courtlands, to walk in the park or ride. Fortunately she likes her governess, Miss Trant, who is an excellent rider and can always accompany her. Susan much prefers it at home, for she can spend as much time as she likes on her instruments.’

He fell silent and Julia did not speak. She was enjoying the countryside, for they were driving through the Chiltern hills, and there was fresh new growth on the beech trees, and carpets of bluebells beneath them. There was a lot to think about. Would his sisters welcome her? And the rest of the household, would they accept her? Could she be the sort of wife Sir Carey wanted, or would he, one day, regret his impulsive marriage?

* * * *

It was almost dusk when Sir Carey drove between some gateposts, and smiled as the woman who had opened them bobbed a curtsey.

‘I will take you to see Mrs Saddler one day soon,’ he said. ‘If we stop now we will not reach the house before it’s dark. Her tongue runs on forever.’

They were following a slightly curving drive, lined with chestnut trees which reminded Julia of the avenues in the Prater, and up a slight incline. When they breasted the summit and Sir Carey drew to a halt Julia gasped in delight.

‘It’s beautiful!’ she breathed.

The house, built of golden stone, was in a slight hollow, and the low hills behind were framed by a glorious saffron and apricot and pale green sunset. The long frontage, two storeys high, with many windows, had a central portico, and stood behind an ornamental lake. The drive swept round this, dividing so that one arm led to the back of the house. As Sir Carey drove on Julia’s gaze was drawn upwards, and she could see beyond the house a square tower, of darker stone.

‘Is that the castle?’ she asked. ‘But I thought castles were built on hilltops, so that they could see who was coming.’