AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Have you ever been lifted up in a basket like that?”
“Heavens, no. Far too dangerous for a coward like me.”
“You are not a coward,” she said, shaking her head at him. “I have seen you challenge a bull, remember.”
“Ah, but that was for you,” he said smugly. “There is nothing I would not dare for you.”
She laughed. “No silliness, remember?”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Fletcher. Pray forgive my unwarranted outbreak of silliness. It will not happen again.”
And she could only laugh again, and shake her head, as much at herself as at him. She should have given him a set down, but she found herself absurdly pleased by the flattery and quite in charity with him.
Then it was time for supper, and that was where everything unravelled, for Mama was white-faced and distressed, and when Julia, in all innocence, asked what was the matter, Mama hissed, “You! It is all your fault!” and her eyes filled with tears.
“What have I done this time?” Julia said, in a low tone, for the dining room was crowded.
“That womanis saying such things about you! And it is all true, so how can I hold my head up, even here in my own house? And what will become of poor Rosie, with such a slur against our good name?”
Julia homed in on the one point of interest. “What woman? Who is saying this?”
“It hardly matters,” James began, but Mama would not be silenced.
“The widow,” she whispered. “Mrs Reynell. She knows you were inside the rectory, quite alone with Mr Plummer, for fully an hour, Julia, and you may imagine what construction she places uponthat.”
Julia looked around the room for the widow, and there she was, not ten feet away, whispering into Lady Frederica’s ear. Her ladyship looked shocked, and just at that moment, Mrs Reynell raised her head and looked directly at Julia, an expression on her face so akin to triumph that Julia was seized with the urge to wipe it from her countenance immediately, preferably with a heavy object.
She could not commit violence, at least not in her stepmother’s dining room, but she had to do something. Rage boiled through her as she looked at the insufferable woman gloating over her. It was insupportable to sit tamely by while lies and false rumours were spread about her. Thinking before she acted was not in her nature, nor was circumspection, not when she was angry, and she was angrier at that moment than she had ever been. Shaking off James’s warning hand and ignoring Mama’s plaintive, “No, Julia!”, she moved with quick steps to tower over Mrs Reynell where she sat, glass of wine in hand, looking up at her insolently.
“You’ve been telling tales about me, haven’t you?” Julia said. “If you have anything to say about me, why don’t you say it to my face, like an honest person would? Well? No, I thought not. Too cowardly. You’d rather whisper behind my back. It’s disgusting. You should know better at your age than to spread such malicious gossip, without even bothering to find out the truth. Don’t you know how much damage and hurt such falsehoods can do? And to be telling your lies right here, under this very roof, where you’re a guest and have received nothing but generosity and kindness — that’s unconscionably ill-mannered to people who’ve never done you the least harm and only want to be friendly. You’re a nasty, wicked woman, that’s all I have to say about it.”
Mrs Reynell gazed up at her, mouth hanging open. Not a sound could be heard in the whole room. Into the silence, Julia spun on her heel and stalked out of the room.
18: Consequences
Julia stormed off to her room and paced about there for some considerable time, fuelled by her outrage that anyone, and especially a neighbour she’d regarded as friendly, would do such an unspeakable thing. From time to time drifts of music told her that the ball was continuing unhindered, despite her outburst, but she could hardly go back downstairs again. She dared not show her face in front of everyone. As she paced, she imagined Mama, struggling to put a brave face on it and pretend she was enjoying herself, and Pa would be frowning. She could almost hear his words — “I’m disappointed in you, Julia, very disappointed.” He so rarely called her by her full name, only when he was unusually pleased with her or very cross indeed. Even James, who laughed at all her foolish bumblings would hardly be laughing now. What must he think of her? Why oh why could she not have held her tongue, just this once?
Because silence would have been worse. If she had said nothing, it would have emboldened that nasty widow, and bullies like that deserved to be set down. And now at least people knew it was all lies.
It was small consolation. Gradually as she paced, her anger trickled away and she began to cry. What had she done? She had ruined the ball for everyone — for Mama, most of all, who so badly wanted to be part of this society, who wanted Rosie to marry well. Rosie… had she damaged Rosie’s chances, just by being alone with James for an hour? Surely the world was not so vindictive! Rosie would go to London and be her sweet, beautiful self and everyone would love her, for how could they not? Yet the niggle of unease would not be suppressed.
Eventually, she undressed herself as best she could and crawled into bed, where at least she could cry in comfort.
Somewhere in the small hours, Rosie and Angie crept into bed beside her, one either side, and hugged her tightly, Rosie weeping too.
“Mama would not let us come up to see you,” Rosie whispered in the darkness. “She said we must carry on as if nothing had happened.”
“What a horrid woman Mrs Reynell is!” Angie said. “To spread such nasty rumours about you and Mr Plummer.”
But Rosie clucked agitatedly. “She was misguided, perhaps, but I am sure she meant no harm. She could not have known the hurt she was causing.”
“She knew,” Angie said.
Rosie and Angie were worn out from hours of dancing, and had besides consciences clear of all recriminations, so they were soon asleep. Their slow breathing, usually such a comfort, now only served to remind Julia that she was wide awake and her own conscience was anything but clear. So she turned this way and that, now crying a little, now quiet and always remorseful.
Tomorrow she would have a great heap of apologies to make, but for one night, there was nothing she could do but cry, and regret her intemperate actions.
The first light of dawn saw her sitting on the window seat, her forehead pressed against the cold glass. Slowly, the gardens coalesced out of the greyness, and then the ha-ha and the woods beyond. Frost shimmered on the lawn and dusted every bush. Even through the window she could feel the chill in the air. Winter had not yet relinquished its grip, although it had not been much of a winter. She missed the snows of Yorkshire. Oh, how she wished at that moment that she had never left the north!
