Pleasant Pastimes

PLEASANT PASTIMES

Juliana

Once safely across the bridge, I faced my father. Close behind him, Jacob gazed at me with undisguised desire. I forced myself to look my father in the eye, ignoring Jacob's importunate stare.

"Why did you invite complete strangers to dinner?"

Margaret was showing as much enthusiasm as a lady in public was allowed. "Juliana! Don't you know who the viscount is?"

"Why should I? Is he a famous war hero or a close cousin of the Prince Regent?"

My father glared with disfavor. Margaret rushed into the breach.

"He is the son of the Earl of Altheney, the philanthropist. Viscount Kintleford is a much-lauded astronomer."

Father added, "My dear, Mr. Hodgson is not a stranger but a former client and the nephew of the earl, and the viscount has come as a member of the commission of which I am the head."

While I paid little attention to the Ton these days, even I had heard of the earl, his generosity, his magnificent estate, and his oh- so-eligible son. Nettled and knowing my father would be discomfited at a cavalier dismissal, I raised an eyebrow at my friend.

"I did not know you kept up with such things, Margaret. Surely he is too old for you."

"No older than Colonel Brandon when Marianne was wed. She was younger than I am now. And the viscount is handsome and rich, with nice manners. Nothing to scorn."

My father, face reddening toward apoplexy at my disinterested expression, began to remonstrate but his harangue was drowned out by a harsh cry.

No longer able to contain himself, Jacob stepped into our little circle with a vicious hiss.

"I have heard the viscount is not interested in women. Unlike his cousin, who is an acknowledged rake and lives off his uncle's wealth."

The vehemence in his declaration reminded me of how he had pursued me before I was married and his persistence in visiting me in the year since my husband's death.

Jacob had begun as an apprentice in my father's office but had joined the army after my marriage. Now he had returned, one reason why I hesitated to come back to Rochester.

No great admirer of rank, I did not mind his father was our butler and his mother our housekeeper. But from the beginning, something in his manner made me uneasy. That sensation had not dissipated over the years.

Discomfited by his outburst, I struggled to withhold my feelings and studied him with cool appraisal.

He was not unprepossessing. The dark hair came to a widow's peak, but liquid blue eyes, and long, slender fingers did not ameliorate the forceful, aggressive manner that had heightened over the years. A glance at his hands, opening and closing convulsively, caused a shiver to run through me as I imagined those long fingers stroking my neck, then drawing tighter and tighter around it.

I shook off the frisson and forced a smile. "Do you know the gentlemen well, Jacob? "

"Only by reputation. That is more than enough. I hope never to meet them again."

My father turned his cold stare to my erstwhile suitor. "Does that mean you won't be gracing our board tomorrow, Jacob?"

Realizing what he had said, the solicitor's mouth gaped open like a fish. "I-I-I, well, of course I would like to be present, sir. Perhaps I spoke too hastily about the gentlemen."

"Yes, of course." Father smiled knowingly, glancing at me before turning his attention back to the hapless Mr. Townsend. "Have a good evening, Jacob. We will see you on the morrow."

His lips twisted into a subservient smile, Jacob Townsend skirted us and took flight down the bridge, his greatcoat flapping behind him.

A few minutes later, we regained Crow Street and turned in at the entrance to the house. Townsend opened the door and Father pushed past. The butler helped Father shrug off his coat while a housemaid appeared to collect my wraps and those of Margaret. Arms full of fabric, she curtseyed and left.

Father cleared his throat. "Thank you, Townsend. Send Mrs. Townsend to us in the drawing room if you please."

The butler bowed and hurried through the jib-door, green baize reflecting in the light as the door swung open.

In the drawing room, we waited for Mrs. Townsend. After the walk and confrontations, I was near fainting for a reviving refreshment, even though we had partaken of tea earlier. Margaret looked over at the door, as if barely able to contain her impatience for the coming of a footman.

Instead of bringing the instruments for making tea, the tray contained full cups, which were handed around by one footman while the second filled a low table with bread and butter, sugar accompanied by tongs, and cream as well as the slop basin.

While I buttered bread and the others sipped, Mrs. Townsend bustled in. "You asked for me, sir?"

With a deliberate motion, Father returned his cup to the table. "Yes, Mrs. Townsend. I have asked two more gentlemen to join us at dinner tomorrow. That will make twelve at table. I am sorry if this will discommode the cook."

"Plenty of food, Mr. Beauvillier. It will rather put off the balance of gentlemen to ladies, so I will rethink the place cards. May I have the names of the two gentlemen?"

"Viscount Kintleford and Mr. Ralph Hodgson."

"Thank you." She left, repeating the names under her breath.

Once the tea was consumed, Margaret and I went to our rooms to bathe and change, while Father wandered off to his library to spend an hour with a new volume of Keats, published several months before.

Margaret wandered into my room sometime later. "Tomorrow, would you help me with my hair, dear Juliana? You are so good at making the curls behave and I want to look my best for all the visitors."

"Husband hunting?" I teased.

"Of course, especially with a handsome nobleman of large fortune at the table." Her eyes seemed filled with stars.

After a few dreamy moments, she said, "Are you not looking for another husband?"

Thinking of the casual cruelties of the late earl, I shook my head. "I have had my fill of marriage."

"Mr. Townsend would gladly marry you," she said, a note of humor in her voice.

My earlobes burned as a flush coursed from my neck to the crown of my head. I turned away. A sudden vision of Viscount Kintleford rose into my mind's eye, before shifting to the importunate solicitor. The dinner bell sounded dimly in my ears. Shaking my head, I thought, not him, never him.

Then I slipped my arm through Margaret's, and we entered the dining room.