In the quietude of Market Harbingdon, Gillian Pembroke harbors a secret truth. Beneath the serene facade of this seaside village,thedaughteroftheMarquessofPemburygrappleswiththeshadowsofascandalthatunjustlystainedhername.When anunexpectedencounterrevivesoldmemoriesthough,andlongburiedfeelingsarebroughtbacktothefore,itseemsGillian hasachoicetomake.
WithGillian'sparentscontemplatingastrategicbetrothalandGregoryensnaredinhismother'shigh-societymachinations,the twoofthemstandatacrossroads.Tornbetweendutyandlove,theymustunraveltheintricatewebofsocietalexpectationsand rediscover theessenceoftheir bond.Will their loveprovestrongenoughagainstthefamilyrivalryor will itcollapseunder society’spressure?
“Let’s go this way Ifwe cangetbackto the ballroom, we canstartagain,” she said, rememberingsomethingher father had oncesaidaboutmilitarymaneuversandreturningtothepointofdeparture.
Butthis was notamilitaryoperation,itwas aball OneGillianshouldhavebeenatthecenter of,hadshenotwanderedoff withher maid insearchofthe powder room. Intruth, she had growntired ofthe attentionshe was receiving, bored ofthe endlessstreamofmenvyingforherattention.
“Butthis is the waywe came earlier.Itleads tothe orangery,Ithink.IheardLadyBroughtontalkingaboutitearlier,” Lucy said,andGilliansighed
“Well let’s go there, then I’mstarting to think I’d prefer the company of exotic fruits to the plain English apples in the ballroom,”shesaid,andhermaidsmiled.
“Aren’tyouenjoyingyourself,myLady?”sheasked.
Gillianthoughtshe was enjoyingherself, atleastshe wanted to believe that. Whatwomanwould notenjoythe attentions of handsomemenatasocietyball?ButGillianwasnotentirelylikeotherwomen Herlifewasoneofprivilege,andeversince shecouldremember,shehadbeensurroundedbythosewhotalkedoflittleelsebutcomingsoutandseasons,ballsandsoirees, dresses,andthelatestgossip.
Ather debut, she had beenthrustinto a world ofexpectations;the curtainlifted, and a performance expected. ButGillian’s interestsextendedfarbeyondthelatestfashionsorthegossippagesoftheperiodicals.Shedelightedinbooksandmusic,took aninterestinpoliticsandaffairsofstate
She had educated herself far beyond the usual expectations for a womanof her class, and was involved inanynumber of charitablecausesandgoodworks.Herlifewassomuchmorethantheexpectationsaffordedher,andthereweretimeswhen Gillianfelttrappedbywhatotherwomendidnotseemtorecognizeaslimitations.
“Well… Isuppose so. It’s nice to see so manyothers enjoyingthemselves. But Iwas readingsuchaninterestingbookthis afternoon.Icouldn’tputitdown,butthenIhadto.Mothermeanswell,ofcourse,but…oh,youknowwhatImean,Lucy,”she said,andhermaidnodded
Lucyhad beenher maid since Gillianwas old enoughto no longer need a governess. Theywere around the same age, and thoughtheirliveswereverydifferent,theysharedmanyofthesameconcerns,andGillianhadcometoseeLucyasafriendand confidant,ratherthanaservant.
The directiontheyhad taken did lead to the orangery. Itwas a grand room, glassed onthe roofand sides, where dozens of exoticplants,manyofthembearingfruit,stoodinornatecontainers
“LadyGillian, your scent led me to find youhere; it’s verydistinctive,” he said, and Gillianblushed, wishingshe had not dousedherselfquitesoliberallywithlavenderwaterbeforeleavingthehouseearlieron.
“Men can be charming. Delightful, even, but be wary of them, Gillian. Their charms aren’t always wholly innocent,” she hadsaid,onthedayofGillian’scomingout.
Sincethen,Gillianhadobservedher mother’swordstobetrue. Some menwereastheyappeared;charming,honorable,and chivalrous.Otherswerenot,andithadnottakenGillianlongtorecognizethesignsinthoseparticularspecimens.LordTenant wasacaseinpoint Therewassomethingabouthim aslyness asthoughhewasalwayswatchingfortheadvantage,rather thanseekingthegoodforothers.
“Well, not entirelyalone,” Gilliansaid, glancingat Lucy, who had now takenup a positionnext to her, as thoughreadyto defendGillianshouldtheunspeakablehappen.
“Yes I suppose it does Tell me, LadyGillian, whydidn’t youagree to dance withme earlier? I had eyes onlyfor you You’recertainlythemostbeautifulwomanheretonight,”hesaid.
Gillian shook her head, her anger roused against him. But as Lucy pulled her away, they almost collided with a group of women,ledbyLadyBeatriceWhitfield
Onlya few months previously, LadyBeatrice had writtenofanaffair betweenthe Duke ofGloucester and the Countess of Truro. It had been enough to ruin both families, and neither they, nor their children, were now welcome in polite society. Gillianknewwhatshewascapableof,andwhatshewascapableofconstruingfromthesceneshehadnowentered.
“Yes,youshould listento your maid,LadyGillian Youwouldn’twantanyone to thinksomething improper had occurred, wouldyou?”LadyBeatricereplied,raisinghereyebrows.
Butsuchhopesprovedunfound.LadyBeatrice did writeaboutwhatshehadseen…orwhatshethoughtshehadseen.Bythe nextday,rumorswerecirculating,andinthedrawingroomsandsalonsofthecapital,Gillian’snamewasmud
Lady Beatrice had not held back in her description of the scene she had apparently witnessed; the passion of a hot house romance, the scentofthe citrus inthe air, the couple caughtinflagrante Gillian’s reputationwas ruined, and overnight, she wentfromthebelleoftheballtoanoutcastinsociety.Noonewantedtoknowher,andtheinvitationsimmediatelydriedup, leavingherwithnothingbutherowncompanyandthatofLucyandherparents
Shehaddonenothingwrong,butwas now thevictimofcruel circumstanceandassumption.Whatcamenext,shecouldonly guessat,evenassheknewnomanwouldeverwanttomarryhernow
Shewasresignedtothelifeofaspinster,content,asfarascouldbe,toretreatintoaworldofbooksandstudy,nolongerthe belle ofsociety. And itwas inthis retreatshe found herselfatthe home ofher auntand uncle, a refuge fromthe gossiping tonguesandcruelwordsoftheton.
Haverswood, Kent, England, Summer, 1817.
“Oh, Penny, where are you? Ihope you’re notburrowingfor rabbits again. Youknow how dirtyyouget… where are you?” Gilliancalledout,peeringacrossthevicaragegardenfromthekitchendoor
Pennyhad now calmed down, and Gillianwiped her paws cleanbefore allowingher to enter the kitchen, where she went straighttoherbedbythehearth.Hetty,thekitchenmaid,startedmakingafussofher,butMrs.Baxternowshoutedathertodo some work, and Gillian and Isabella retreated up the backstairs to the hallway, laughing with one another over the cook’s feignedannoyanceoverPenny
“She’s always petting her, and that’s why Penny’s put on so much weight recently. That, or she’s been doing more than searchingforrabbitsintheshrubbery.Thosedogsfromthefarmgotintothegardenafewweeksagoandfatherwasn’tpleased.
The churchbell had justbegunto ring, and now the clatter offootsteps onthe stairs announced the arrival ofGillian’s Aunt Florence.Shewasakindlylookingwoman,witharound,smilingfaceandrosycheeks.Sheworeasimplecottondress,witha greenshawlaroundhershoulders,andshelookedatGillianandIsabellainsurprise.
GillianhadlivedatthevicarageinMarketHarbingdonforthepastthreeyears Heruncle,thevicar,wasakindandstudious man,whocareddeeplyfor his parishioners,andhadofferedtotake Gillianinwhenlife inLondonhadbecome unbearable. Gillian’sauntwashermother’ssister,butthelivesofthetwowomencouldnothavebeenmoredifferent.
Gillian’smotherhadmarriedintothearistocracy,andherlifeconsistedofanever-endingroundofballs,soirees,anddinner, thoughsince the trouble withLadyBeatrice, those invitations had become few and far between Her sister, incontrast, had marriedaclergyman,anddevotedherlifetogoodworks.
“Your grandfather wasn’t happy about it But Florence certainly is,” Gillian’smotherhadoncesaidtoher,andtherewasno doubtingthehappylifeGillian’sauntenjoyedinMarketHarbingdon.
The happyproductoftheir unionhad beenIsabella, and since Gillian’s arrival atthe vicarage, the two ofthemhad beenas sisters;alwaystogether,andhappyinoneanother’scompany.Pennybelongedtothemboth…theruntofalitter,rescuedfrom thebarrelbytheverger,Mr Donbury,andgiventothetwowomentotakecareof
“Ihope father’s sermonisn’ttoo longtoday,” Isabella said, as theywalked across the frontlawnofthe vicarage to the gate leadingintothechurchyard.
SaintJames churchwas anancientplace ofworship, Saxoninorigin, witha short, squatbell tower, and some ofthe finest preservedmedievalglassinthecounty Thebellswereringing,andasteadystreamofvillagersweremakingtheirwayupthe pathfromthelychgatetothechurchdoor.
Greetings were exchanged as Gillian, her aunt, and cousinentered the cool, still interior of the church, where the scent of flowersandbeeswaxpolishhungintheair.Gillianlikedtogotochurch.Itgaveherasenseofpeace.Thetimelesswordsof thepsalms,thestoriesfromthescriptures,andthecertaintyofafaithshecouldplacehertrustin,whensomuchelseabouther lifewasanuncertainty
The congregationtookupthe hymn,somewhattunelessly,andthe renditionof Love Divine, All Loves Excelling, broughtthe processiontothesanctuary,whereGillian’sunclerummagedatthelectern,hurriedlyturningthepagesofhisprayerbooktothe correctplace.
“Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry places to acknowledge and confess our manifold sins and wickedness;andthatweshouldnotdissemblenorcloakthembeforethefaceofAlmightyGodourheavenlyFather;butconfess themwithahumble,lowly,penitent,andobedientheart…”hebegan,peeringdownoverhishalfmoonspectacles.
Gillianclosedhereyes,thankingGodforbringingherthepeaceshenowenjoyed.Itwasasimplelife,andfarremovedfrom that she had enjoyed in London. But it was a life she had found to her liking, where the pleasure of books and the joy of charitableworkshadreplacedthesenseofnecessityinsocialcustomsandexpectations.
He was ridinginhis carriage, accompanied byhis friend, TristanHunt, the ViscountLorton. Theywere returningto London aftervisitinganorphanageonthesouthcoast,drivingthroughtheKentcountryside,andGregoryhadbeenhorrifiedatwhathe hadseen.
They had been friends since school, bound together by a shared social conscience, one they tried hard to offer practical solutionswith Butthesheeroverwhelmingplightofthosetheyhadencountered bothattheorphanage,andontheirvisitsto othercharitableinstitutionsinLondonandthesurroundingcounties hadbroughtwithitasenseofdespair.
“Buttooradical for most.The richwanttokeeptheir money andtomake more ofit.Andtheydosoatthe expense ofthe poor Thereislittleincentivetochangeit,despitewhattheymighthearinchurchonaSunday
It always amazes me to think these apparently pious people can listen to the clergy at matins, shake their hands after the service,praisetheeloquenceoftheirexhortationsforthepoor,thendonothingpracticaltorealizeit,”Tristansaid
HisdesiretohelpthechildrenwastheresultofanunexpectedencounteratOxford,whenhehaddiscoveredabeggar achild noolderthaneightornine breakingintohisrooms.Hehadbeenangryatfirst,butshehadpleadedwithhim,tellinghimher familywas starving His heart had beenmoved byher plight, and ever since, he had seenit as his dutyto help those less fortunatethanhimself.
He wanted desperatelyto help others. He felt it was his God givendutyto do so, evenas he was beginningto realize the impossibilityofhistask Tristanlookedathimsympathetically
“Yes… and the poor childreneat onlygruel and table scraps. Meanwhile, we returnto Londonand the indulgences of the Claringdonball Itfeelssohypocritical,”Gregoryreplied
“Your mother wouldn’tallow youto miss it, would she? She thinks you’re longdue inmakinga matchand settlingdown,” Tristansaid,raisinghiseyebrows.
Gregorygroaned.Thequestionofhismakingamatchwasonehismotherwaspreoccupiedwith.Wheneverhewasathome whichhe tried to be as infrequentlyas possible his mother would raise the questionof his marriage, or lackof progress thereof.
“You should be making a match, Gregory. It’s been long enough since your dalliance with the Pembroke girl. I don’t know what you saw in her and I was proved right, wasn’t I?” hismother hadsaid,whenlastthesubjectofmatrimonyhadbeen raised.
Butitwas the Pembroke girl ,LadyGillianPembroke,whopreoccupiedhisthoughts,thetragedyofthescandalshehad beenengulfedinrevealedtoGregoryonhisreturnfromagrandtourofEuropethreeyearspreviously Thetwohadbeenclose inchildhood,theirmothersbeingfriendsuntilthepublicationofascandalsheetrevealedanunfortunateincidentataballatthe homeoftheBroughtonfamily
“Oh… I’mthe lastone she’d tell. She and mymother hate one another now. Theywere once the closestoffriends, as were Gillianandme.But…thereweare.IsupposeI’llhavetomarryeventually,it’sunavoidable,”hesaid.
BeforeGregoryhadgoneoffonhisgrandtour,andbeforeGillian’slifehadbeenruinedbythecrueltyofBeatriceWhitfield, there had been a tacit understanding between them an expectation of something more to come Those residual feelings remained,andoverthepastthreeyears,Gregoryhadoftenthoughtofthewomanhehadlovedandlost.
Tristanwas about to reply, but a suddenjolt to the carriage sent himflyingforward into Gregory’s arms, the two of them lurchingtothesideasthecarriagecametoanabrupthalt
Gregorystraightened his waistcoat, peeringover his friend’s shoulder Theywere passingthrougha small village and had come tostopoutside the church.The carriage driver hadfallenfromthe board and was now pickinghimselfup and dusting himselfoff
Tristanmade anexasperated noise, but Gregorywas secretlypleased. Abrokenspoke meant the possibilityof missingthe Claringdonball,anditwashardlyahardshiptoidleawayanafternooninaprettyEnglishvillageintheKentcountryside
The sunwas shining, birds were singinginthe trees, and the scentofflowers and blossomhunginthe air. The bells ofthe churchwere now ringing, and a streamofbonneted womenand menintheir Sundaybestwere emergingfromthe lychgate. Gregoryopenedthecarriagedoorandclimbeddown,beckoningTristantofollow.
“Ah, and whatofmyniece? Whatpleasures does the restofthe dayhold for you? Did youfinishthe bookIlentyou? The GibbonvolumefromdeclineandfalloftheRomanempire,”hesaid
“Ilookforward to discussingitwithyouindue course. Take the second volume frommystudyifyouwish. Butbesthurry along,Icanseeyouauntgrowingimpatient,”hesaid,smilingasheglancedtowardsthegateleadingintothevicaragegarden.
“No doubt to get muddy and chase rabbits again,” Gillianthoughttoherself,asshemadeherwayacrossthechurchyardto whereherauntwaswaitingforher.
“There’s a carriage beingrepaired inthe road. Itlooks like the spokes have come off,” Isabella said, as Gillianjoined her cousinandauntbythegate
“Oh,the poor things Theywon’tfinda blacksmithtoday HarveyBostockgoes tovisithis mother inSaintMarybloomona Sunday;hegoestomatinswithher,”Gillian’sauntobserved.
Gillianlooked across the churchyard withinterest. The carriage was parked just off the road, next to the lychgate, visible abovethehedge.Thedriver was nowheretobeseen presumablyinsearchoftheblacksmith andtwomenwerestanding talkingnexttothehorse,lookingovertowhereGillianstoodwithherauntandcousin.
Thesightofhimhadbroughtbackathousandmemories,andshewasquiteastonishedtothinkhewasstandinginfrontofher It had beenatleastfour years since lasttheyhad seteyes onone another, and Gillianhad feared Gregorywas ofthe opinion sharedbysomanyotherswhenitcametohermoralcharacter.
Duringthe holidays, he would regale her withstories ofthe term, tellingher all the things he had learned, and makingher terriblyjealousoftheopportunitiesaffordedhim ButGregoryhadneverboastedofhisachievementsandhadalwaystakenan interestinthebooksGillianwasreading,andthingsshewasthinking.
She had so manyquestions, evenas she knew it was hardlyproper to askthemafter all this time. She did not know what Gregorythoughtofher,or whathebelievedabouther Itwas thesamewithsomanyfigures fromher past For incomingto livewithherauntanduncle,Gillianhadleftsomuchofwhathadoncebeenbehind.
She was no longer a ladyofhighsociety, mixingwiththe upper circles inanendless round ofballs and soirees. She was simplythecousinofavicaragedaughter,livingaquiet,rurallifewithherauntanduncle.ButGregory’sarrivalbroughtwithit longforgottenmemories,andhisunexpectedpresencehadstirredfeelingsshehadlongsincepushedaway
Intheir younger days, Gillianhad knownGregoryto be a manof principles. He was different fromothers, possessed of a socialconscience,butonetemperedbytheinfluenceofhismother.
Gillian’sownmotherhadoncebeenfriendswiththeduchess,butthetwohadfallenoutoverGillian’sapparentindiscretions, withher ownmother oncedescribingGregory’s mother as awoman“lackingthecapacitytounderstandanyonebutherself.” Since then, Gillianhad heard nothingof Gregory, and the last she had known, he had beeninFlorence, ona grand tour of Europe.
She loved her auntand uncle dearly, butthis was notthe life she should have had, and had itnotbeenfor the lies Beatrice Whitfieldhadpublishedabouther,Gillian’slifewouldhavebeenverydifferent
Itbroke Gillian’s heartto hear it, too. Her uncle oftenpreached onthe plightofthe poor and needy. There was povertyin MarketHarbingdon,too,andGillianandhercousinoftencollectedclothesforthepoorormadecollectionsatthechurchdoor tosupportthoselivinginthealmshousesorstrugglingtoraisetheirchildren.
At that moment, Gillian’s uncle, now dressed in only his double-breasted cassock, came striding across the churchyard, carryinghis surplice under his arm He lookedinquisitivelyatthe small gatheringbythe gate intothe vicarage gardens,and
Apart fromSir Horace Walpole, who resided at HarbingdonGrange, the district was somewhat devoid of aristocracy, and Gillian’suncleraisedhiseyebrowsattheintroductionofsuchprestigiouscompany.
“Aninn?Yes,there’saninn,butIwouldn’tthinkofsendingyouthere,yourGrace.You’lldinewithus.Andasfortakingup anymoreofmyvaluabletime?Well,whatwereSundaysmadefor?ThesabbathfirsttopraisetheLord,andthen,Ithink,to enjoythe fruits of His bounty. Aheartyluncheon! That’s what I enjoyona Sunday, and I’d be honored to have youas my guests,”hesaid,extendinghishandtowardsthevicarage
Gilliansmiled.Ithadbeenaremarkablecoincidence,andhadsheknownGregorywaspassingthroughthevillage,shemight have hiddenherselfawayfor fear ofbeingrecognized She had spentso longworryingabouther past, hopingitwould not catchup withher. Yethere was a manwho broughtwithhimthe happiestofmemories, a manshe was onlytoo glad to be reacquaintedwith
There were those whom, after the publicationof Beatrice’s periodical, had made their views veryclear Some had openly rejectedher,declaringinpublictheywouldhavenothingtodowithaharlot,whileothershadusedmoresubtletechniquesto distancethemselves:Areturnedcallingcard,arefusaltodinner,andsoon
Othershadsimplycutheroffwithsilence,andthiswaswhatGillianhadassumedtobethecasewithGregory.Butitseemed, if her instincts were correct, more a matter of circumstance than intention, and in this fresh encounter, the possibility of a renewedacquaintancewasverymuchIevidence
“No well,ithardlyseemedworthit Ithoughthe was gone Icertainlydidn’tthinkI’dsee himagain We were childhood friends.Perhaps…oh,well,ithardlymatters,doesit?”Gilliansaid,puttingPennydowninthehallway.
ButIsabellacaughtherarmandsmiled.
“Butitdoesmatter,Gillian.Younevertalkaboutthepast,butIknowithurtsyoutothink…well,tothinkoftheinjusticeofit all Here’ssomeonewhoobviouslydoesn’tbelieveit,”shesaid,andGilliansmiled
“No…perhapshedoesn’t,”shereplied.
“Then allow yourself a little happiness, Gillian He seems delightful, as does his friend It’s not every day a carriage containingtwohandsomemenhappenstorequireitsspokeschangingrightoutsideourhouse.Ithoughttodaywasgoingtobe likeanyotherSunday HowwrongIwas,”shesaid,usheringGillianintotheparlor
Thevicarageparlor was reservedfor highdays andholidays.Itwas comfortablyfurnished,withaview across thegardens, andtheretheyfoundIsabella’sfatherentertainingGregoryandTristanwithsherry Astheyenteredtheroom,thetwomenrose andbowedcurtly.GillianputdownPenny,whoimmediatelywenttosniffatGregory’sfeet,andsheandIsabellacurtsied,and Gillian’sunclenowrosetopourthembothaglassofsherry.
“Nonsense Dear Mrs Baxter wouldfindsomethingtocomplainaboutwhatever the circumstances She’s happiestwhenshe has somethingto complainabout, butshe does make the mostdelicious lemonposset. For that, alone, Icanputup withher complaints Now,willyougentlemenhaveanotherglassofsherry?”Gillian’suncleasked
“It’s a pleasant change to have company. Usually, I’m surrounded by women,” Gillian’s uncle said, glancing at her and grinning
Gillianknewhewasjoking.HeruncledotedonherandIsabella,justasherauntdid,too.Therehadneverbeenanyquestion of how longshe would remaininMarket Harbingdon, and the past three years had beenhappy, if uneventful But withthe arrival of Gregory, Gillianwas keento learnmore of what his ownlife had beenlike since last theyhad set eyes onone another
