Part 1 (1/2)
A BOND OF HONOUR.
Joan Vincent.
CHAPTER 1.
It snowed. Snow, in fact, seemed to the travellers the beginning and the end. For a time it had blotted out everything; nothing existed but the whiteness, the frigidity.
As the snow deepened on the road and thickened in the sky, the postilion began to have a care for his horses. It had taken a generous glint of the realm's coin to convince him to undertake the journey, for the clouds had hung low and full.
He would have been quit of them yesterday if the lady had been able to hire a subst.i.tute, but none was available despite her liberal offers. He had not the heart to refuse her with the wee ones clinging to her. A base man must be hers for husband, to have to travel with just an abigail. Besides, the thought of the fat purse at the end blurred his doubts as to the wisdom of continuing into the regions of Northamptons.h.i.+re which he had never travelled.
Shortly after midday he pulled his plodding team to a halt. The unexpectedness of it nearly unseated the lady and her abigail and brought forth a new burst of crying from the babe.
Knowing the postilion would not leave his team, Lady Juliane Perrill handed the babe to Cora and, pulling her cloak more firmly about her, stepped out. She sank to mid-calf as she came off the last step but the only notice she gave was to raise her skirts as she tramped tiredly to the postilion's side.
”What is it now?”
”The horses must rest-the snow is becoming too deep. 'Haps we might turn and go back toward sure lodgings?”
”That would be foolishness-we could not reach there by nightfall, which it almost is like now with this snowfall. I am certain we shall find an inn a short distance hence. Proceed as soon as the team has rested. It would be unwise to let them stand still for too long,” she ended knowledgeably.
As if accustomed to instant obedience, she turned and plodded back to the coach. A spark of admiration for her stirred in the postilion, but did not ease his worry. ”How much farther is it, Aunt Juliane?” a small voice piped from a mound of fur beside Cora.
”Not far, Andre, but remember, you are to call me 'Mama' for now. Are you warm enough?” she asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.
”Yes ... Mama. Do I have to sit on these bony bricks? They have no warmth left in them.”
She sighed nodded for Cora to remove them. All of the warming bricks had long since lost any comfort.
She s.h.i.+vered. Warmth, it seemed, was most difficult to find in England.
”Miss...”
She cast a stern warning at Cora.
”I mean, my lady, hadn't we be better off to give this up? What good will come of all of us freezing to death? It is useless to go on.”
Julianne pursed lips and gave a fierce dismissing nod.
Cora sighed inwardly and drew young Andre Renoit, Baron de la Croix closer to her for warmth.
Lady Juliane closed her eyes as she hugged the once again sleeping babe closer. She did not fear them freezing-far worse could happen-but she was concerned for the health of the children. Andre, at the young age of six, had been st.u.r.dy enough in their travels but the babe, Leora, was only nine and ten months and a far greater worry. The danger of either of them taking a chill was magnified dreadfully by the weather they had travelled through since leaving the children's home in Rouen.
The erratic forces of chance on life are always surprising, she thought.
When she had left her brother and his wife in India to travel to Rouen, she had resigned herself to the role of spinster aunt which she felt was what lay ahead of her as the years progressed. At her sister's home she would be expected to care for the children and to be a companion to Judith.
Her father had left a small competence that was not substantial enough for her to set up her own establishment, let alone hire a companion. Her brother and sister would not hear of her taking a paid position as governess or companion. Thus, for the five years since her father's death, she had acted as her widowed brother's hostess, Lord Perrill deciding to stay on in India with his regiment rather than return to the small, crumbling estate of Trewallen left him by his father. She had enjoyed life in India, free for the most part to do as she pleased; she had travelled with him as his duties took him from post to post.
Fascinated, she had watched him succ.u.mb to the snares and wiles of Lady Lowen, a recent widow just out of mourning, realizing too late what trend the alteration of her position would take after the marriage.
Her brother and his new wife graciously plied her with invitations to remain with them but were hard put to feign sadness at her decision to visit Judith for a time.
Correspondence with Judith was erratic at best and, although no reply had been received from Juliane's letter telling of her intent to come, Lord Perrill decided that, because Judith was as flighty as a feather, Juliane should proceed to her despite the lack. A small fuss was raised when she espoused to travel alone but, as she was five and twenty and not known to draw male attention, this was permitted. Juliane had some years before faced her looking gla.s.s and acknowledged she sadly lacked the feminine traits which attracted males. It was not that her brown hair was unattractive; indeed with its hints of auburn it was none the worse by comparison except in its style. Juliana thought it a waste to do anything more than the easiest, hence severest style, and a maid had never been considered for her.
Her spice-brown eyes, sparkling with vivacity, were her best feature. Her complexion had been ruined by her failure to keep covered on her many walking and riding forays. Her lips were full and firm but maintained too stern a line to invite attendance.
She considered herself a large woman, being several inches above the average in height with neither the undernourished thinness nor the tight-laced shape of other beauties. She carried herself well, although with grace more manly than feminine. Managing everything she undertook with a calm competence, she caused women to jealously deride her in gossip and the men to maintain a posture of polite respect. The aloofness with which she responded to the latter a.s.sured no advances from an admiring male.
The voyage from Bombay to Portsmouth, although long, had not proven arduous to her. The matter of arranging transportation from Portsmouth to Le Havre and then by land to Rouen had been taken care of by her brother as Earl of Lewallen. He believed that such matters were of too complicated a nature to be dealt with by the feminine gender. Although glad to be free from dealing with strangers, Juliane was elated to be free from the tyranny of this prejudice. It had often made matters difficult for her in the past.
A shadow was cast over the enjoyment of her travels by the rumours, lightly whispered at Portsmouth. They became low warning rumbles as she neared Rouen. The servants and postilions at Le Havre bordered on the insolent. They openly jested that the king and his family's confinement would end most unpleasantly.
The early months of 1793 did not bode well for many and, although Lady Juliane was not ignorant of the cross currents sweeping France, none of her knowledge prepared her for the scene that greeted her at Rouen.
Baron de la Croix's small estate lay outside the city. As she neared it, Lady Juliane saw increasing signs of ill care and disrepair. As the post chaise drew through the gateway and up the path to the chateau there was ever-increasing evidence of violence. Recent violence. She bade the postilion to await her and with a brave set of the shoulders entered the house.
Not a single servant greeted her and the halls and rooms she went through had been terribly mauled. Proceeding to the second floor, Juliane found it in much the same state. With trembling spirits she continued to the nursery on the third floor. It too had been ravaged.
As she turned to leave the nursery, Lady Juliane heard a stifled whisper and then the whisper of leather on wood as if someone had shuffled. Standing absolutely still, she looked about. Perceiving the doors of the wardrobe noticeably closed in the disarray of the room, she strode to them without a thought to danger and jerked them open.
Who was the most shocked-Lady Juliane or the young woman who stared at her, wild-eyed-one would have been hard to determine. Both stood like statues until a childish voice brought them to life.