Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

J udith sat in the drawing room, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the embroidered cushion beside her. The room was bathed in the soft afternoon light, the golden rays filtering through the lace curtains, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

Across from her, John was sprawled on a chaise longue, his broken leg elevated and encased in a cast. Despite his injury, his spirits were high as he concentrated on a sketch, something their father had taught him to love.

Matilda sat nearby, her knitting needles clicking rhythmically as she worked on a new scarf. She looked up occasionally, smiling at the serene domestic scene.

"Judith, look at this," John called, holding up his drawing.

It was a depiction of their family estate, the lines precise and the details carefully rendered. It was rather impressive for a boy of only ten years. One day, Judith thought, he might be an artist or a painter.

She smiled, wondering what Oliver might say to that. Did he envy their younger brother because he'd be free to pursue a life of his own choosing while Oliver was stuck being a marquess? Not that being a marquess was a bad thing, but Oliver didn't have a choice…

Or would John one day become a marquess as well, if Oliver chose not to have a child?

Judith had been so preoccupied with the task her older brother had given her that she had no idea what his plans were. Would he marry? Surely he'd have to. But what if he was like Aaron, determined to remain unwed? It wasn't fair that men had the choice and would not be judged as harshly as women. There had never been a case of a gentleman being considered ‘on the shelf' or ‘an old fellow' like women were.

"What do you think?" John demanded, drawing her from her thoughts.

"That's wonderful, John," Judith praised, moving closer to get a better look. "You're getting so good at this. Father would be proud."

John beamed, his eyes sparkling with pride. "Do you think I can add more trees here?" he asked, pointing to a blank spot on the paper.

Absolutely, Judith encouraged. "It would make the scene look even more lively.

Matilda glanced up from her knitting. "You've inherited your father's talent, John. It's lovely to see you so engaged with it."

John grinned, his attention already back on his drawing. "I can't wait to show it to Oliver when he's back."

Judith and Matilda exchanged a gentle, knowing smile. It was moments like these that made their current worries seem distant.

"Matilda," John said, breaking the brief silence, "can we have pudding cake tonight? I know I'm supposed to eat fruit, but I think it's time to celebrate my getting better."

Matilda chuckled softly. "I suppose we can make an exception. You've been very brave through all this, after all."

"Yes, you've been very brave, John," Judith agreed. "What flavor would you like? Chocolate or lemon?"

"Chocolate, please!" John replied enthusiastically. "With lots of cream on top."

"Chocolate it is, then," Matilda confirmed, setting her knitting aside for a moment. "I'll make sure the cook prepares it just the way you like it."

John's face lit up with excitement. "Thank you, Matilda! You're the best."

Matilda reached over to ruffle his hair affectionately. "Anything for you, dear. You've been so patient with that leg of yours."

Judith watched the exchange, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite the challenges they faced, these simple, everyday moments were a reminder of the love and support that bound their family together. She looked at Matilda, grateful for her steady presence and nurturing spirit.

"I'm glad you're here with us, Matilda," she said softly. "You've made such a difference."

Matilda's eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze Judith's hand. "I'm glad to be here too, Judith. We're a family, and we take care of each other."

As they settled back into their activities, the room was filled with a peaceful, comforting silence.

Judith glanced at John, whose head was bent over his drawing once more, and felt a surge of hope. No matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, as a family. At least she had that.

Judith sat down at her writing desk, the delicate quill poised above a fresh sheet of paper. She'd decided to write to Rosy.

Her friend had left a few days ago and was most certainly still on the ship, but given the slow postage, she didn't want to dally. Besides, she had much to report to her friend.

She dipped her quill in the inkpot and then began to write, her thoughts flowing onto the paper.

Dearest Rosy,

I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. It feels like ages since you left, though it has only been a week. I miss your company terribly and long for the day we are reunited.

There has been quite a commotion here. Poor John had an accident while at Eton and broke his leg. It was such a frightful ordeal, but he is home now and being the brave boy he has always been. His leg was set, and he has taken to drawing to pass the time. It reminds me so much of Father, and it warms my heart to see him so engaged.

The headmaster at Eton was dreadfully uncooperative when Matilda and I arrived to take John home. We were practically dismissed because of our gender, which was infuriating. Thankfully, Aaron came to our aid and presented a letter from Oliver that granted him guardianship over John. Without Aaron, we might have left empty-handed.

This whole incident has left me contemplating my future more seriously. I have decided that I must consider marriage even if it is not for love. Aaron has promised to introduce me to a gentleman he believes will be a good match. It seems so unfair, but I have come to accept that this is the reality we live in.

She paused, looking over what she'd written thus far. She'd given a full report of the past events, but there was something she wanted to say and did not know if she ought to. A secret she'd kept to herself. If Rosy were with her now, she might not divulge it either, but her friend would be on the Continent by the time this letter reached her, so it seemed oddly safer… She wouldn't have to look in her eyes, see her judgment or her worry…

I paused just now, wondering if I should share what is truly on my mind. Rosy, I think I love Aaron. It feels strange to write it down, but there it is. I cannot deny these feelings any longer. I daydream about him constantly and eagerly look forward to seeing him. He has a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special.

Just yesterday, he made me laugh so hard. We were in the garden, and he was trying to teach John how to draw a caricature of Matilda. He drew her with such exaggerated features—enormous knitting needles and an impossibly large bonnet—that even Matilda couldn't help but giggle. It was such a light-hearted moment in the midst of all our worries.

Despite these feelings, I don't believe Aaron is interested in me. Sometimes, though, I catch a look in his eyes or a softness in his tone that makes me wonder. It's maddening, this uncertainty.

I don't know what the future holds, but I am trying to stay hopeful. Please write back soon and tell me all about your adventures. I miss you dearly and treasure our friendship more than words can express.

With all my love,

Judith.

Judith sprinkled sand onto the ink, allowing it to soak the excess, then poured the sand into the waste basket beside her before folding the letter carefully, sealing it with a drop of wax. She gazed at the envelope, her heart heavy yet hopeful.

Writing to Rosy had brought her some comfort, and she hoped her friend's response would provide even more comfort. Perhaps by the time Rosy's reply came, she'd already know the gentleman Aaron had in mind for her better. She'd met him at the park, of course, but beyond his name, she did not know anything about him.

Would he be able to dislodge thoughts of Aaron from her mind? She had to hope so. Otherwise, she might find herself engaged in the worst kind of courtship—one where she was with one man while her heart longed for another.

And that, she knew would not do at all.

Aaron stood in front of his mirror while his valet, Banks, adjusted the lapels of his finely tailored evening coat.

"It is early to go out, Your Grace," Banks noted.

"Indeed, it is. But I have a stop to make before heading to the Lord Chancellor's ball," Aaron replied. "Would you get my platinum cufflinks?"

The valet hurried away to retrieve them while Aaron examined himself in the mirror. The deep midnight blue fabric contrasted sharply with the pristine white of his cravat, which he meticulously tied into a perfect knot. His waistcoat, a shade of silver-grey, shimmered subtly in the candlelight.

"Here we are," Banks said and straightened his cuffs, adorning them with understated yet elegant cufflinks.

"Thank you, you may go," Aaron instructed.

The valet slipped out of the room, allowing him to continue taking inventory of himself. His dark trousers and polished black shoes completed the ensemble, making him every inch the picture of a refined gentleman ready for a ball.

Despite his polished exterior, Aaron's mind was racing. Tonight was the night he would introduce Judith to Graham.

It was the right thing to do. Graham was a good man, suitable, and undoubtedly perfect for her. Yet, the thought gnawed at Aaron. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping momentarily under the weight of his conflicting emotions.

It was too early to leave for Judith's home, Banks had been quite right. Needing a distraction, Aaron's gaze fell on a small box half-hidden under his bed. He reached down and pulled it out, a rueful smile touching his lips. It was his little memory box, filled with keepsakes from his youthful adventures.

He chuckled softly, recalling the competition he and Oliver had during their travels—a harmless game of collecting mementos from their romantic encounters. They'd decided to see who could woo more ladies and come up with a plan to track their conquests, by way of keepsakes from the ladies they met.

Opening the box, he sifted through the contents—hairpins, rings, patchboxes, and handkerchiefs. Each item told a story, a witness to his carefree days.

He started counting but stopped abruptly, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He knew none of these women were harmed or ruined by their time together; they had all been willing participants in the fleeting romances. Yet, an uncharacteristic sense of shame washed over him.

What would Judith think if she knew about this box? The thought lingered. He imagined her laughing, perhaps even teasing him. She wasn't prudish like Amelia had been. Still, the idea of her knowing this part of his past unsettled him. If they were to be married, would she still look at him the same way?

"If we were to be married?" he muttered, snapping the box shut. "What is wrong with me?"

The notion was absurd. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of these foolish thoughts. He stood up, straightened his coat one last time, and left his room with determined strides.

Tonight, he would practice dancing with Judith one last time before taking her to the ball. She didn't really need another lesson—she was perfectly refined as she was. But he'd been unable to fight the desire to be alone with her one more time. After tonight, he knew, there was a good chance she'd no longer need his assistance. He would introduce her to Graham, and he would do everything in his power to make sure they were a perfect match.

No more nonsense, he told himself firmly as he made his way to Worcester House. He had a duty to fulfill, and he would not let his foolish desires stand in the way.