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A timid scratching on the door was followed by Sarah creeping in. “Madam would like to see you in her dressing room, Miss Julia.”
“Now? Should I get dressed first?”
“She said right away, but not to disturb Miss Rosie and Miss Angie. Just you, miss.”
Julia pulled her wrap tighter about her, and made her way to Mama’s dressing room. It was a substantial room, as large as the bedroom Julia had shared with her sisters at Sagborough, and Mama had fitted up one end of it with comfortable sofas and a low table. Cups and a silver pot were laid out.
“Chocolate?” Mama said. “Come and sit down, Julia.”
“Mama, I’m so sorry—”
She waved the apology away. “It is too late for that.”
“Oh. But I must go and see Mrs Reynell.”
“No.” With a little shrug, she went on, “That bridge is beyond repair. We must talk aboutyou, Julia.”
“Are you going to send me away?” she said in a small voice. But even as she considered the humiliation, a part of her was exhilarated — she could go back to Sagborough! And then sorrow, for all her wonderful walks would be lost. It would be back to the canal, and the rough young men who hung about there. And in Yorkshire, there would be no smiling gamekeeper to bump into.
“Not that, no. Running away is not the answer. Julia, I want to talk to you very seriously now. Mrs Reynell may be a deeply unpleasant woman, but there is a kernel of truth in what she says. Youwerequite alone with Mr Plummer inside the rectory for a good hour— Yes, yes,weunderstand the reasons for it, but one can quite see how it must look. Mr Plummer is the rector, of course, and one should not suspect a man of God of misbehaviour, but he is also young and personable, and you have indeed been spending a great deal of time with him. There is enough of truth in the innuendo that we — your father and I — wish to nip it in the bud at once, before we go to London. There must be no shadow cast on Rosie’s debut there.”
Julia was silent, filled with foreboding. If they were not to send her away, how else could such tales be‘nipped in the bud’?
“We will talk to you later, after breakfast, about what is to be done,” Mama went on. “You will await your father’s summons, and not go scampering about the countryside, do you understand? Stay in the parlour… no, your room will be better. Take a book to your room after breakfast, and stay there until you are sent for. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Very well. You may go.”
Breakfast was an uncomfortable meal. Mama was silent. Aunt Madge was absent, despite having retired to bed after supper the night before. The men had all eaten early and gone out. Rosie and Angie arrived late, yawning, but they readily understood the chilly atmosphere. Only Bella, too excited by the ball to notice, chattered unstoppably about all she had seen by peering down from the landing and lurking on the stairs.
“Mr Leadbetter came to see us,” she said proudly. “He brought champagne for Miss Crabtree, and lemonade for me and Dorothea.”
And this made Miss Crabtree blush scarlet and mumble something incoherent.
Mama’s toast, half buttered, paused in mid-air. “I hope you do not encourage Mr Leadbetter in any way, Miss Crabtree,” she said. “A curate on a hundred pounds a year is not a man who can afford to marry.”
“Oh no, Mrs Fletcher, I would never—”
“Not that I would not be very happy for you if ever a man of means should take you in affection,” Mama said, her voice softening. “Everyone should have their chance of happiness, in my view.”
There was nothing Miss Crabtree could say to that, so she wisely remained silent.
After breakfast, Julia dutifully retreated to her bedroom with a book, although the last thing she was inclined to do was to read. She sat, then paced, then sat for a while more, as the clock impassively ticked away the seconds and minutes and hours. It was past noon when the summons came, Enoch bringing the news with a sympathetic expression.
“You’re wanted in the master’s office, Miss Julia. Madam’s there, too, and Sir Owen and Mr James Plummer.”
The Plummers. So. This was what was meant by‘nipping it in the bud’.She was to be married off, whether she wanted it or not, for the least hint of scandal could not be allowed to taint Rosie.
Julia steeled herself. This was not going to be pleasant.
They were all there, just as Enoch had said. Mama and Pa stood either side of the fireplace. Sir Owen rose from a seat beside the desk to bow to her. And James lurked near the window, as far from her as he could get. All of them bore serious expressions. No, this was definitely not going to be pleasant.
Mama spoke first, an expanded version of all she had said before. Rosie’s reputation must not be impugned by association, there was enough truth in the rumours to make denial impossible, so they must be stamped out in the only way now possible, by marriage. There was much more, about duty and obedience and doing the right thing, and how she knew that Julia would understand.
Julia understood only too well. She was to be sacrificed, whether she wished it or not, because a small-minded widow had taken it upon herself to make assumptions about her, and never mind whether there was any truth in those assumptions. She hoped she had always done her duty, and been obedient to her parents as much as she was able, but there was a line that she would not cross, no matter what.
“You cannot force me to marry.”
