He grinned at her and looked more himself. “Never fear,” he said. “Fellows go through this all the time.
But they always come about. I will too.”
It had become something of a catch phrase with him, Judith realized. He would come about . But she did not see how.
Papa would be dragged into it eventually, she thought, and Mama and the girls too. And she would be stranded forever and ever at Aunt Effingham’s. She had not realized until this moment how a part of her had still held out hope of one day going back home, of everything being restored to normal again.
Chapter XII
The weather cooperated in grand style for the garden party at Grandmaison. Despite a cloudy morning that looked for a while as if it might have been the prelude to rain, the afternoon was clear and sunny, with just enough heat not to oppress the senses. The sitting room was in use for anyone who felt more inclined to sit indoors than out, but the French windows were opened back and most of the guests remained outdoors, walking the paths of the formal gardens, sitting in the rose arbor, or strolling over the lawns or down along the stream path. On the terrace, long tables covered with crisp white cloths were laden with appetizing foods of all descriptions as well as tea urns and large jugs of lemonade and punch.
Judith was determined to enjoy herself. She was wearing what she had always considered her prettiest dress, the pale green muslin, though like most of her dresses it had not escaped alteration. And she was wearing one of her own caps beneath the bonnet Aunt Louisa had given her. She did not feel pretty, but then she had never been under any illusions about her looks. However, this afternoon she did not feel so very different from a number of the other guests who had been invited from the neighborhood. Most of them did not look nearly as elegant or fashionable as the Harewood set. And Judith had the advantage of having made the acquaintance of some of them the day before when she had delivered invitations to the ball.
She spent the first half hour with the vicar’s wife and daughter and believed that she might in time develop a friendship with them. They in turn introduced her to a few other people who spoke politely to her and did not look at her with disdain or—worse—turn immediately away as if she simply were not there. After an hour or so she went to join her grandmother in the sitting room and brought her a plate of food from the terrace. They sat there, comfortable together until Lady Beamish found them and bore them off to the rose arbor after persuading Grandmama that the air was warm and the breeze really close to being nonexistent.
She was enjoying the party, Judith told herself after leaving the two old friends together to chat with each other. All around her she could hear the sounds of laughter and merriment. It seemed as if the young people were all moving about in groups, sometimes in couples, looking youthful and exuberant, enjoying one another’s company. Even all the older guests seemed to have someone with whom they belonged or felt thoroughly comfortable—as did she, of course. She had her grandmother.
Julianne was surrounded by the closest of her female friends and a few of the gentlemen from the house party. Lord Rannulf was at her side, as he had been almost all afternoon, and she was sparkling up at him though she must have said something to make the whole group laugh.
He really was going to marry Julianne .
Judith longed suddenly for solitude, having discovered— as she had never done at home—that it was possible to feel at one’s loneliest in the midst of a crowd. No one was taking any notice of her at the moment. It was almost a certainty that the back of any grand home would be quiet. She took a path around the side of the house and found the expected kitchen gardens at the back. Fortunately they were deserted and immediately she breathed more easily.
She was going to have to get over this, she told herself sternly—this feeling of displacement, this loss of all confidence in herself, this self-pity.
The stables were at the far side of the house with a paddock behind them. She walked past the fenced-off area, looking at the horses grazing there, relieved that there were no grooms outside to see her and wonder what she was doing so far from the party.
Beyond the stables the ground fell away down a steepish grassy slope into a wooded area. Judith half ran down it and found herself among rhododendron bushes, surrounded suddenly by their heavy fragrance. And ahead of her, now that she was down, she could see a pretty little summerhouse and beyond it a lily pond.
The summerhouse was hexagonal and completely closed in beneath its pointed shingled roof though there were windows on all sides. She tried the door and it opened inward on well-oiled hinges to reveal a tiled floor and a leather-covered bench all around the wall. That it was sometimes used was obvious. It was clean. There were a few books strewn along one side of the bench. But surely it was not someone’s completely private retreat. It was not locked.
She went inside, leaving the door open so that she could breathe the rhododendron-fragrant air and listen to the birds singing, and so that she could get an unobstructed view of the pretty, well-kept lily pond, its water dark green beneath the roof of tree branches, the lilies a startling white in contrast.
It was a little heaven on earth, she decided, sinking onto one of the benches, folding her hands in her lap, and allowing herself to relax for the first time all afternoon. She pushed aside homesickness, loneliness, and heartache. It was not in her nature to harbor negative feelings for long and these ones had oppressed her for altogether too many days. Here were peace and beauty to nurture her spirit, and she would accept the gift by opening herself to what was offered and giving it a chance to seep into her soul.
She inhaled deeply and then relaxed further. Her eyes closed after a couple of minutes, though she was not sleeping. She felt both happy and aware of being blessed. She lost track of time.
“A pretty picture indeed,” a voice said softly from the doorway and she was jolted back to unpleasant reality just as if she really had been sleeping.
Horace was standing there, one shoulder propped against the door frame, one booted leg crossed over the other.
“Oh,” she said, “you alarmed me. I came for a walk, found the summerhouse, and sat down to rest for a few moments. I must be getting back.” She stood up and realized that the summerhouse was really not very large at all.
“Why?” he asked her without moving. “Because Step-mama may have some errands for you to run?
Because your grandmama may need someone to fetch her more cakes? The garden party will continue for some time yet, and we Harewood guests will be staying even after everyone else leaves, you know.
We are invited for dinner. Relax. You will not be missed for some time yet.”
That was precisely what she was afraid of.
“It is all very picturesque, is it not?” she said brightly. And very remote and secluded .
“Very,” he agreed without removing his eyes from her. “And would be even more so without its bonnet and cap.”
She smiled. “Is that a compliment, Mr. Effingham?” she asked. “I thank you. Will you stay here a while?
Or will you walk back to the house with me?”
“Judith.” He smiled at her, revealing almost all his perfect white teeth. “There is no need to be skittish—or to call me Mr. Effingham . I saw you leave the party because you were feeling alone and neglected. You go unappreciated here, do you not? It is because Stepmama treats you like a poor relation and encourages the impression most of the guests have that you are your grandmama’s companion. And because you have been forced to wear this heavy disguise. I am the only man here, apart from your brother, who has been privileged to catch a glimpse beyond it.”