Rumors Among the Heather Page 4

  “We’ll start on your lessons tomorrow. Perhaps I can change your mind. I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Master Ian. I think we could be friends, as well.”

  “I don’t want to be friends, you know,” he said and stuck out his lower lip in a pout.

  Julie laughed in spite of herself. “Well, it’s up to you, but I would watch that lower lip walking up steps. You might trip over it.”

  She left him standing in the middle of the room. The look on his face was the epitome of stubbornness. Julie smiled to herself. She had more than a touch of stubbornness, if her saintly long-suffering parents were to be believed. Perhaps this was her punishment at long last, but one she was going to enjoy. It might take more charm than wit to cut through the walls that little boy had set about him, but day by day she’d chip at them until she broke through. She had a purpose now and a goal. This would do, for the time being.

  Julie joined Lord Bonnleigh back downstairs in the small sitting room.

  “Ah, Miss Hastings. I have just informed Mrs. Highet that I’ll be away for the next six months or so. I’ve received an urgent message that can’t be put off. I’m afraid I must leave shortly. My nephew will be in your charge. If on my return I find everything satisfactory, the position will be yours. If you need help or advice before my return, you may consult Mr. Rankin, my man of business in the village, or Mrs. Highet. I am also leaving Ribble behind this time. I will not need him, and if you have problems, he is also one to ask for help.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Do you ride, Miss Hastings?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Julie said.

  “There is not much to do on the island unless you’re a farmer. Pick a horse from my stable and ride whenever you get a chance. They could all use the exercise.”

  “Thank you, my lord. Riding would be most agreeable in my spare time,” Julie said with a smile. She had wanted to ride every day since letting her horse go. She’d thought that pleasure would never be hers again.

  “You may retire until dinner. We observe country hours here and dine promptly at six. Tardiness is frowned upon.” Thus having dismissed her, he left the room. Julie followed a servant down a long corridor of rooms, doors, and stairs until she arrived at her room on the fourth floor. She found her trunk already there, and she immediately set about unpacking her few belongings.

  The austere room contained just a bed and dresser and one small window. A chimney with a fireplace on each side of the wall separated the room next door. The sterile atmosphere oppressed Julie more than anything so far. Her energy sapped, she sat down on her bed and looked around the small chamber through quickly misting eyes. Before the tears could come, she began to laugh. Her sense of the absurd overcame her. After being jilted she had vowed never to marry. Now she’d received a nun’s cell in the middle of Presbyterian Scotland. Her penitence awaited her in the schoolroom, and temptation called her name two stories below. She continued to laugh as she unpacked her trunk.

  “Was there ever a more unworthy minister’s daughter?” she wondered out loud.

  * * *

  When Julie came down for breakfast the next day, Ian’s uncle had already gone. He’d left the island at high tide, so she would indeed be on her own for the next six months. She helped herself to the food left on the groaning board in the dining room. After finishing her breakfast of cold smoked beef, bread, and honey with tea, she went up to the schoolroom.

  She entered Ian’s self-imposed prison with many misgivings. Her charge had not arrived yet, and she took the time to look around. There were rows of books placed neatly in bookcases along the east wall. Some were apparently Ian’s father’s, and some most certainly his mother’s, but the most surprising discovery came in the form of a small book of poems presented to Ian’s mother by Ian and written in a childlike hand. “To mother, with love, Ian.”

  Ian came quietly into the room. With his hands in his pockets, he walked over to his corner and sat down. He wore the same look on his face as yesterday.

  “Ian, come over here to the table and let us begin.” He obeyed, and Julie thought this had to be a good sign. At least he did not ignore her.

  She took out a plaque with the alphabet on it and began to go through the letters with him. He neither looked up nor gave any sign he heard her. At last, he stood up and walked away.

  Julie knew she would have to do something quickly or he would gain the better of her, and defeat would be fast in coming—along with unemployment.

  “Ian, how long have you been able to read?”

  Stunned, Ian looked up with a spark of interest showing in his pale blue eyes. “I can’t read. I told you!”

  “Yes, you can read, and write, I might add. I do have proof.”

  “H-how did you know? No one else ever guessed.”

  Julie held up the little book of poems opened to the dedication page. Ian looked at it and then at her. His pale eyes narrowed and stare back at her, boring a hole through the book she held.

  “It doesn’t matter, you know. I can’t read anymore. I’ve tried many times, and—” He broke off with a catch in his voice. Julie could almost hear the crack in his facade. With just the right coaxing, she felt sure she would have him reading in no time.

  “Do you remember when you could last read?”

  “Before. I know I could read before.”

  “Before your parents drowned?”

  He nodded his head and tried to wipe away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Julie put her arm around him, and his body trembled. He tried valiantly to wipe away his tears.

  “Ian, my dear, it’s all right to cry. It might make you feel better.”

  Ian did not break down but sniffed until he gained control and stood like a little soldier in front of Julie.

  “Ian, what happens when you try to read?”

  “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” he almost screamed.

  “I know you’re frustrated, but you have to try. What happens when you try to read? Please tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  “I-I can’t read. I see the words, but they hurt my eyes, and I-I’m afraid I won’t remember what the words are. My eyes hurt so much I can’t finish the sentence…” Tears streamed once again down his face.

  From the kettle on the hob in the fireplace, Julie fixed him a hot cup of tea with lots of sugar and lemon. She dried his tears and held him close until he could take the cup and drink his tea. With this obstacle mounted, and with the problem out in the open, she felt she was making progress. She picked up his first primer and began by encouraging him to read a small sentence with no more than three words in it. His eyes hurt at first, and he cried again, but Ian did continue to read with Julie’s help. Soon her student graduated to more complex sentences. With Ian’s confidence bolstered, Julie hoped he would no longer fight the lessons and would embrace learning.

  Julie’s time at the castle fell into a pattern of teaching as well as learning about her charge. Yet she did enjoy her days off. Mrs. Highet looked after Ian whenever Julie went out. Several small boats were provided for the servants to utilize. She learned, with Ribble’s help, to sail a small skiff by herself, and soon she enjoyed taking it over to the mainland on her free days.

  One particular Saturday, she wandered aimlessly along the street before deciding to go into Pearl’s Tea Room. Julie seated herself by the window and watched the passersby to the south of the little shop. She had almost finished her tea when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned with a start to look up into the familiar eyes of her ex-fiancé.

  Geoffrey Hamilton quickly took the seat across from her. He reached across the table and took her hand.

  “Geoffrey, you gave me such a start. What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Dr. Siddons is a friend of my father-in-law. When he took ill, Dr. Prevost sent me here to fill in for him and gain some practical experience on my own. It’s a great opportunity to prove myself. But say, what good fortune to find you were here a
lso. I’d hoped we would run into each other somewhere again. Our last meeting could not have been more awkward, to say the least. Julie, I’ve missed you more than you’ll ever know.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Geoffrey, but our parting was your choice. It was none of my doing. By the way, how is your wife…Angela, isn’t it?” Julie said bitterly. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held her fast.

  “You’re very kind to speak to me. Oh, Julie, I’ve made a dreadful mistake. I thought I could be happy, but after you, there could never be another. It was foolish of me to think I could be satisfied with anyone else. The money swayed my decision, and my parents were dead set for me to marry well.”

  Julie saw what could have been sorrow in his eyes. Her heart began to soften. Her mind raced back to the fateful day of the sale after her father died. Some of the furniture at the vicarage belonged to the church, but her parents brought most of the furniture with them, along with the china, silverware, clothing, books, and odds and ends.

  That morning, Julie nervously paced the floor in front of the door. She had dreaded this day for so long, and at last it was here. She put on her bravest smile and looked at herself in the mirror hanging adjacent. The night before, she had picked out a keepsake to remember her mother and father. She decided to keep her mother’s pearls. Her father had given them to her mother, and she gave them to Julie just before she died. Tears soaked the cover of a well-worn Bible. Her father prepared his sermons from this same Bible each week. When the sale ended, her time for staying in the vicarage would soon be over also.

  At nine-thirty, the morning already felt hot and humid. Julie sat in the shade of a giant elm tree and waited. She thought about Geoffrey Hamilton and wondered why he did not write. She wrote to him when her father died and told him her circumstances.

  It couldn’t have been easy for him. He’d apprenticed to a doctor in Cornwall, and until he became a full doctor, he wouldn’t make enough money to support both of them. It would be at least two more years before they could be married. Julie knew they had an understanding, but now her situation had changed. Still, she hoped Geoffrey would not forget her.

  By mid-morning, people began milling around her father’s last earthly possessions. They reminded Julie of vultures. Their chatter all ran together into a noisy drone. She wanted to flee the frenzy, but she stayed rooted to her spot by the door, a smile permanently etched on her face. When her panic subsided, she realized these were her father’s friends. Nothing could be hidden from the prying eyes and listening ears of a small village. They knew Julie’s circumstances. They only came to help. Soon people were carting away what it had taken Julie’s parents a lifetime to collect. She fought back the tears and tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she watched each piece go.

  She had finished helping a lady load her mother’s china onto a cart when she looked up to see Geoffrey stepping out of a carriage. He and his mother walked across the lawn toward her. She rushed over to him, a welcoming smile on her lips, but the look on his face stilled her heart.

  Geoffrey Hamilton was a tall, handsome man of four-and-twenty. His dark good looks turned many heads, and many bonnets were set for him. Julie was not indifferent to his good looks, nor was he to hers. Quite naturally a friendship sprang up between them, and out of this love grew. “Geoffrey, I’m so glad to see you. I knew you would not let me down. How long can you stay?” she asked eagerly.

  Julie trembled as the flood of memories rushed at her, only to be replaced by the present. Geoffrey’s lips moved, but she could not understand what he said. Their last meeting kept ringing in her ears and mind.

  She could still remember Geoffrey’s parting words to her. “I have something to tell you, Julie. I thought it best to do it in person. You and I have meant a lot to each other in the past. While it’s true we have an understanding…”

  “What are you trying to say?” Julie had hoped and prayed he planned to ask her to marry him right away.

  “What he’s trying to say, my dear, is that he’s already married,” supplied Geoffrey’s mother. “He married Dr. Prevost’s daughter, Angela. It's an excellent match. He’ll take over the doctor’s practice when the good doctor retires, and Angela, of course, will inherit quite a windfall. I’m sure you understand a match between the two of you would never do. Besides, it was just a childish promise. Not one to be taken seriously, especially now. Although your breeding is above reproach, you are now below his station in life,” Mrs. Hamilton finished.

  “Mother, please. I would like to talk to Julie alone.”

  “There’s no point in dragging this out. I told you, you should just have written to her. Come along, Geoffrey, Angela is waiting.”

  “I’ll be there shortly, Mother,” he’d said in dismissal. He turned back to Julie. “Julie, please, I never meant to hurt you, honestly. You don’t know what it’s like to be alone and without expectations. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for me. I could not turn it down. Please say you understand.”

  Julie was rooted to the spot where she stood, too paralyzed with shock to move or speak. Her last hope shattered. The ground crumbled at her feet, and she could do nothing but stare past Geoffrey to the carriage where a young girl sat quietly. Her pale skin blended into her dishwater colored hair. She looked back at Julie with squinting eyes. Even now, Julie could not be angry with her. For some reason, she felt sorry for Geoffrey’s bride.

  Again, she tore herself away from the past to hear Geoffrey speak. “I would feel better if you said something to me. You have every right to be angry, I know. I feel like the lowest of creatures. Please say something.”

  “Everything has been said. I wish you continued happiness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back,” Julie said with an effort.

  He was saying the same words now he’d said on that fateful day. “I’m truly sorry, Julie. You’ll always be my first and only love,” he whispered across the table.

  “Geoffrey, I’m sorry you’re not happy, but what has been done can’t be undone. You’ll have to make the best of it. Does your wife know you’re unhappy with the bargain?”

  “I’ve tried to keep up a front, but I’m afraid she suspects. She’s so kind and understanding. I feel a perfect wretch. The lowest of the low. I don’t deserve either one of you,” he said with so much pain in his voice, Julie almost pitied him.

  “You should have brought your wife with you. Perhaps you could have patched up your differences on your own,” Julie said.

  Geoffrey released his hold, and Julie could withdraw her hand at last. She looked around to see if anyone watched them.

  “Let’s talk about something else. Have you heard news from Wintersea?” They talked for a long time about their mutual friends. At last, Julie had to go.

  * * *

  In the following months, Geoffrey seemed always to be around whenever Julie came ashore. It was almost as if he watched especially for her. They continued to see each other, but always as friends. Julie enjoyed their arrangement, and although he had broken her heart, he was a familiar face and a way to hear the news from Wintersea, but Geoffrey began to grow impatient. They met as usual at Pearl’s Tea Room. Their easy conversation rolled along as before until suddenly Geoffrey began to speak in passionate tones.

  “Julie, I’m in love with you, and I’ll always be. Please don’t turn me away,” he pleaded as he grabbed her hand.

  Julie looked wildly around the small dining room. Speaking in a low voice she said, “Hush, Geoffrey, please, this can’t be. Let go of my hand! You’re making a spectacle of yourself. We can never be anything more than friends.” Wrenching her hand free, she stood up to leave.

  Geoffrey stood up also and tried to take her hand again.

  “Geoffrey, I have to leave. I can’t see you anymore. It was foolish of me to continue seeing you when we both knew nothing good could come of it,” Julie said softly but with anger enunciating every word.

  She was angrier at herself than Geoffrey. She kne
w she should have practiced more restraint, listened to her head instead of her heart.

  Geoffrey followed her outside and down to the dock. “Julie, please don’t leave me like this. If I can’t have your love, then I must have your friendship at least, or I shall surely die. Please don’t leave me without anyone to turn to,” he pleaded with tears in his eyes.

  Against her better judgment, she relented and turned to look at him. “If I continue to be your friend, that’s all it can be. You can’t keep having these outbursts like the one in the tea room, or I’ll end our friendship. Do I make myself clear?”

  Geoffrey eagerly agreed, and they continued to meet for tea on her free days. The longer they were together, the more Julie began to realize she mistook friendship for love. Her former beau seemed interested in every aspect of her new life. He asked her questions about Lord Bonnleigh, his staff at the castle, and about Ian. One particular day, Julie began to feel under siege. There seemed no end to his questions about Lord Bonnleigh or life at the castle.

  “Geoffrey, why are you always asking questions about Lord Bonnleigh? You probably know as much or more than I do. I only met the man one time, and he said he would be back in six months or so. Surely there must be something more interesting we can talk about?” Julie asked suspiciously.

  Geoffrey did not answer her but changed the subject. Julie noticed he did this when he did not want to answer a question. This bothered her, but she could not hazard a guess as to what his purpose could be. He spoke of his patients and his father-in-law Dr. Prevost. He seemed to be in awe of the good doctor. She suspected he thought more of the doctor than his own wife. Julie also noticed with some amusement the trail of his conversation never once crossed the path leading to Angela.