The Baron and Baroness were away again, visiting some far-flung outpost of the British Empire. As children are often an encumbrance to continental travel- particularly spirited, redheaded, nineteen-year-old daughters- Lord and Lady Albray had opted to leave their only child behind. That is how Julia Albray, once more, found herself left to her own devices.
Not that Julia had very much supervision when they were at home. Her father was far too busy seeing to his many grand estates and social obligation to take notice of the comings and goings of one troublesome daughter and her flighty mother was too preoccupied with the latest foreign frivolities to notice much of anything. They were not the most attentive of guardians. But at least her father's boisterous voice and her mother's silly chatter served to fill their cavernous country estate with life and sound.
When Lord and Lady Albray were abroad a silence always seemed to fall over Thornvale Hall. A heavy silence that stifled more than it soothed. Julia did what she could to keep the quiet at bay; dancing, drinking, gaming and best of all- flirting. When all else failed, tormenting the servants was a tolerable diversion.
It will have to do
, Julia thought as she watched the first footman stroll into the opulent morning room. Mr. Tall Dark and Pompous himself. With his bright crimson livery setting off his sharp features and glossy black hair, Jonathan was indecently handsome and annoyingly unaware of the fact. His ramrod straight posture made him look intolerably arrogant, even if it did enhance the broadness of his shoulders quite nicely. He was only a year or two older than she but he already possessed the serious demeanor of someone of much more advanced years.
Like the dead, for instance.
Everything about the man was vexing from his irritatingly impeccable livery, to his scornfully smug good looks. But the most vexing thing about Jonathan was his stubborn refusal to play any of her diverting little games. He didn't blanche at her provocative remarks as Stevenson the timeworn butler would but neither did he flirt back as some of the younger staff did. When she would put on her prettiest coquettish smile and bat her blue eyes, which she knew to be quite fine, Jonathan would not do her the compliment of a leering wink or even the basic curtesy of a blushing stammer. Instead he merely looked at her disapprovingly as if he meant to scold her.
He may never have said anything outright, oh no, he was too damndably proper for that. But he didn't have to, disapproval was written on every feature and inscribed in every gesture as clearly as any book.
"Your post, Miss Julia." Jonathan presented a silver platter in a distinctly disapproving manner.
Behind him William, the second footman, arrived carrying a sizable tea tray. Moderately attractive and extremely coltish, William was always up for a bit of a flirt.
He placed the tray before her. "Tea and scones, Miss. With jam or cream."
"Oh, my favorite. I find I prefer the cream. So velvety and smooth. I adore the decadent way it coats the tongue." She dolloped a generous amount of the frothy confection atop a scone and then brought the spoon to her lips, licking it with a suggestive sweep of her tongue. "Don't you William?"
"I have always been more of a jam man but the lovely way your ladyship goes on I might soon be tempted to convert." He replied, offering a cheeky wink as amorous etiquette dictates.
"How amenable of you." Julia turned towards Jonathan to find his dark brows furrowed in characteristic displeasure. "And what of you Jonathan. Might I tempt you to try some cream?"
"My apologies, but I don't care for dessert." Jonathan replied in a tone so sober and prudish that it would have made even the stodgiest of headmasters proud. Julia had to stifle a laugh. It was patently ridiculous for such a young fellow to carry himself like some ancient admiral. With a wave of the hand he made a dismissive gesture. "Thank you, William that will be all."
Julia and William exchanged conspiratorial smirks before he slipped dutifully out the door. She didn't even have to look over. She felt the frostiness of Jonathan's censure from across the room.
"Jonathan, be so good as to tell Mr. Brooks to have the carriage ready by 7 0'clock. I'm going to pay a visit to the Willoughby's tonight." There was always some gay diversion or idle gossip to be found there even if her father grumbled that they were not 'the right sort of people'. From the stern grunt Jonathan was currently making he was likely thinking the very same thing. "Is there something you'd like to say, Jonathan?"
"Nothing at all, Miss Julia." His words said but his dark eyes told a different story.
How very contrary of him.
"Perhaps you think I ought to stay away from such company. That I'd be better off staying in and knitting all night like a proper young lady." She leaned in letting him feel her anger. If he was capable of feeling anything at all, which she very much doubted.
"Seems I have no need to say anything as you have already said it all." With that he stalked out of the room like the sultan he seemed to think he was.
Such arrogance from this, this... footman! That he, a lowly servant, should be silently passing judgement over her, the daughter of a Baron and heir to a vast fortune. It was not to be borne.
Julia determined then and there that she was going to get a rise out of him, whatever it takes.
*
Whatever it takes, Jonathan Ridley was determined to get some peace. He couldn't wait to slip off to the Red Lion. A few hours at the local pub (the only precious leisure time he had all week) ought to do his tired mind a world of good. As first footman Jonathan had many responsibilities, all of which he took seriously.
A grand household is like an elaborate clockwork with interlocking gear and cogs. Everyone, from the lowliest stable boy to the stately Baron himself, must play their part for the machinery to run properly. If only a certain coy redheaded cog would accept her place instead of constantly throwing a spanner in the works he thought glumly. Maybe one day he would even tell her so. Just then the spanner thrower's maid tromped wearily down the servant steps.
"Miss Julia is in rare form tonight." The lady's maid grumbled. The poor girl looked dead on her feet. "Mistress just got in from a night of cards with those wicked Willoughby sisters and now she bids me clean her red riding habit tonight for tomorrow's ride. Says she changed her mind about the blue one. She wants a bottle of champagne uncorked and for Mrs. Pratt to make some special dish for that wee vicious kitty of hers."
"At this ungodly hour?" Mrs. Pratt, the sweet old cook of advancing years and expanding waistline let out a long sigh and attempted to lift her tired bones from her chair with minimal success.
"Please remain were you are Mrs. Pratt, I will deal with Miss Julia myself." Jonathan swore a few oaths, under his breath of course, and silently kissed his trip to the pub goodbye. After retrieving a bottle and pausing to straighten his coat he climbed the steps towards the yawning maw of the lion's den.
Lit entirely by candlelight, the white drawing room took on a kind of dreamy luster at night. Though the sun had descended many hours ago the summer heat lingered stubbornly in the air, making the many arrangements of peonies droop their heavy heads in exhaustion. A ring of sofas, settees and armchairs, each one more frilly and feminine than the last, circled a white marble fireplace. Decorated in soft shades of white and pink, the place seemed an unlikely habitat for the fearsome creature within.
Yet there in the center of the elegant room, poised on her pink satin perch, was the lioness herself, Miss Julia Albray. The flicker of the few dozen candles made her flawless ivory skin shimmer like a pearl still wet from the sea and her fiery red hair glow like flames. Even in the dim light Jonathan could see that her fine features were arranged in her customary expression of delicate distain. Her ruffled, rose colored confection of a gown was cut far too low for propriety's sake, though Jonathan couldn't deny the aesthetic advantage such a neckline had in accentuating the creamy swell of her bosom. He was still a man, after all.
Bedecked in jewels and reared in luxury, one could almost mistake Julia for a tamed specimen. But Jonathan reminded himself that under all that finery this cat still had claws.
