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Jennifer sat in the window seat and looked out onto the terrace, holding some embroidery but not doing any stitching, because she was too busy remembering. That strange girl she had met in the woods had said Avon was treating her well. Indeed it seemed from circumstances that he was, but Jennifer did not trust him and could not live with herself if that changed and she did nothing to help. She wished the girl would know there was somewhere to turn in case of trouble.
As always, when she thought of Avon her first reaction was a cold flash of fear, something she had never been able to shed even though she knew that not only Anthony, but Edward and Rupert would be her protectors now. Besides that, her position socially was far less precarious than it had been. Anthony had often assured her she had nothing to fear from him now, but she knew his rancorous nature, and could never be entirely easy in her mind that some act of vengeance might not be inflicted upon them at any moment.
It was all very well to assume Avon had changed, and things would be different for this new girl, but what nobody seemed to consider was that of course he would act kindly- as he had to her, at first. And she herself had not been a nobody like this girl seemed to be.
Justin had been present in her life for a long time- first as a figure in Fanny’s letters from home, often the cause of floods of tears over some denied request or tyrannical order, sometimes a source of exciting stories and exotic gifts. Then, as Jennifer had entered society properly, she had met him at parties in London, one of the big and bewildering group of suitors hovering around her. Her first time in society was a confused whirl to Jennifer’s memory, exhilarating but not entirely pleasant. Modest and serious in outlook and pursuits, she hadn’t really known what to do with herself, but she had been at the right age to derive some enjoyment from the attention and the endless succession of activities of that time. It had faded into a blur before the defining events that had ended it: falling in love with Anthony, and…
Before she had ever met Anthony, Justin had been there. Fanny had not at first introduced her to him, saying: “My love, what could be the use? You know what he is. And I daresay he is quite destitute, too, for he always used to refuse me the merest trifles.” However, as Fanny’s idea of trifling requests did not tally with that of general society, Jennifer did not know what to make of this. He didn’t accompany Fanny to parties either, so it was only after she had already gathered a small court of admirers that the Duke of Avon came sweeping into her world.
He commanded her attention as he did everybody else’s: managing to look awe-inspiring and beautiful in the sort of clothes that would make another man look ridiculous, such was the way he held himself and the force of his personality. Even cuffs so big they almost overshot his elbows and a fringed waistcoat looked elegant rather than affected on his tall, proud person. This much was obvious even to Jennifer, who wasn’t the sort of person to admire or value fashion, let alone know what the latest modes were. When he came up to the two of them and she learnt his name, she looked wonderingly, remembering Fanny’s stories.
“Ah, finally, I meet the reason I had to post down and talk Mother Superior out of sending Fanny down for good.” He’d said, surveying her in his haughty way. Jennifer, remembering the incident he referred to, smiled guiltily. Beside her, Fanny protested that it had all been her doing. But the momentary awkwardness was forgotten when Avon took her off to dance, and she gathered a host of compliments from the other guests afterwards. Level-headed and prudent as she was, even Jennifer had felt some pride in that.
Other times, he sat talking, pointing out interesting guests, warning her not to set Horace Walpole talking about the house he was building, or explaining why some obscure political problem meant a particular notable person was not there. Very occasionally he took her out with Fanny.
He paid her covert attention, in such a way that it attracted little gossip; at least, after the first warnings from society matrons, which her aunt received indignantly. “As if we weren’t familiar with the Alastairs. We are not as countrified as all that.” She said to Jennifer, who was interested to hear these estimations of his character and financial position. She kept this information at the back of her head, though until then he had done nothing to offend her ideas of propriety or make her feel he meant anything but the mildest flirtation.
Gradually, though, that changed; she could not really tell when. Somehow, she’d find herself alone with him, talking on a terrace from which everyone else had left, or in the corner of a garden. Though the slightly jocular tone he used with her never changed, she was sometimes startled when she found a deep, intent look in his eyes, suddenly no longer languid in expression. Once, he’d presented her with roses for her hair, smiling elusively as she reached out to take them. “Let that honour be mine,” he said, and fixed them at the side of her face. She held her breath at the delicate touch of his long fingers, confused and flattered. But there was something else in the gesture, something proprietary, that was a little disquieting to her.
Another time, when they were talking in a garden somewhere, he’d paused and reached out to tilt up her chin. Unable to resist and half-enjoying the sensation, she’d let him do it, almost expecting him to kiss her. But he didn’t- simply looked down at her with an odd, dangerous glint in his eyes. He’d smirked, and let her go again, picking up her hand and placing a kiss on her wrist instead. Before anything else could happen, she had run away, overcome with a mixture of shame, pleasure and fear.
After that day, she made a decision. Though her feelings were complicated, she did not love him enough to marry him despite his ineligibility, and given the way he behaved, it would be better to avoid him as much as possible. And this she did. It didn’t take him long to notice, and for her to realise that when she talked to him now, there was the odd barb of inconsistency or cruelty, delivered so deftly in the middle of polite conversation it left her with nothing to say.
After that she had met Anthony, and once they had grown near enough for other people to notice, she had come to understand that whatever her feelings for Justin were, they represented a totally different manner of feeling than the sort of love there should be between husband and wife. She more or less forgot about Justin in the exhilaration of her first real love, and felt slightly embarrassed and afraid of his sharp tongue when she did meet him. Anthony’s relationship with him also seemed to become strained, and the two men seemed to avoid each other, whereas Anthony had assured her they had always been the best of friends. Eventually, Justin seemed to grow more scattershot about his attentions, which meant that when he hatched his plan, it took her entirely by surprise.
She’d gone out riding with the new groom her father had hired; then, when she dismounted to search for some blackberries, something was thrown over her head, and she was dragged along violently, then shoved into a carriage. As it jerked into motion, she was too shocked to do more than look dumbly around. As soon as she had assimilated that she was in a carriage, and it was moving so that she could not get out, she noticed Avon, sitting opposite her. She felt slightly assured, confused by the odd manhandling the groom had subjected her to, but presumably this would be explained. “What manner of trick is this?” she said. “Pray, where are we going, your Grace?” Avon looked at her pointedly.
“Your Grace?” he said softly. She coloured.
“Justin,” she said, feeling it was wrong to use his first name when she was in love with Anthony.
“We are going to Avon.” he said, in the most casual way imaginable.
“But Avon is several hours of driving hence. Is something the matter with Fanny?” Jennifer, confused, tried to think of the most logical explanation.
“Nothing is wrong with Fanny.”
“Then why are we going there? And in such an odd way?”
“We are going there to be wed.” He said this in such a matter-of-fact tone of voice she didn’t immediately understand it. When she did, she gasped.
“But I don’t wish to marry you,” she blurted out without thinking. She dug her fingers into the plush seat covering convulsively as she realised what she had said.
“That had occurred to me,” Justin said. “This is why I had to resort to abducting you.”
“What?!” she said. He merely looked at her, not even unkindly.
“I’m sorry about the treatment you received from my er, friend. And the loss of your hat, but I daresay it is not irreplaceable,” he said. She felt for her hat, which indeed was not there and not anywhere in the carriage either. She gaped at him, a cold fear starting to take hold of her.
“Take me home immediately,” she said. He shook his head, the feather edging on his hat waving with the motion. “You’ll ruin us both if you don’t,” she continued. “This is madness.”
“Ah, but only one of us will be ruined. Neither, if you will it.” His tone was so quiet and nonchalant it made her feel increasingly overwrought. She tried to fight her rising panic.
“It’s not true!” she said. “I won’t do it.”
“I rather fancy you will. At least, tomorrow.” Justin said. She felt dread sweep over her as though she had been doused in cold water, and wanted to burst into tears, but she was too overwhelmed to do it. She closed her eyes and leant back, breathing rapidly. He took one of her hands, limp with shock, and rubbed it slowly when he noticed how cold it was. She opened her eyes again. He was looking unwontedly subdued. “Jenny, you know it’s not such a bad fate, being married to me. I can’t promise you I would be an ideal husband, but I would be the better for being with you.”
“Yes, I can see the proof of that,” she said, goaded into anger. He did not like that, looking away from her in irritation, and took her other hand.
“A lion, when it’s been starved and provoked, will even attack its keeper,” he said.
“And a gentleman, usually proud of his name, will take Robert Lovelace as his model.” This annoyed him even more. He kissed her hand before letting it go, and sat back, giving her a cold look.
“But in life, unlike in morality tales, the villain isn’t taught a lesson at the end. Instead, they are more often rewarded,” he said. Jennifer did not reply, but leant back against the seat and fell into silent thought, watching the way the tasselled frogging on Justin’s coat danced with the jolting of the carriage. What would Anthony say? What would he think of her? She couldn’t bear the thought that he might never see her again, might think she had chosen this and had betrayed his love. But if she couldn’t get to him, how would he know the truth? She had to get a message to him. If only he could get to her on time, to save her… but how could this be done? There was no way, she would lose him forever, and he would never even know…
Thinking of Anthony hurt her so much she really did start to cry, a few tears spilling over from her eyes before she recalled herself. She had to regain her self-control and stay calm enough to think. Her vision focused on Justin again, who was looking at her with the oddest expression on his face. Justin had to know about Anthony, but she would deny it if she could. The Lord only knew what he would do to Anthony if he found out the truth. She shivered, pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to dry her face. “Poor Jenny,” Justin said, his voice low and just slightly mocking.
He leant over to her and ran a lock of hair that had become unpinned between his fingers, then brushed it back over her shoulder. She froze at his touch, terrified. He paused. His gaze lingered on her for a tense moment. He was so close she could hear his breathing, deep and deliberate. Then he leant back again. He smirked slightly, and folded his arms over his body. He looked at her from under half-closed lids, and she looked resolutely away and tried to regain her composure. She clasped her hands in her lap, desperately thinking. If only she had a watch, she could tell how much longer until they arrived at Avon. Then she could try to formulate a plan.
Her thoughts ran over everything Fanny had told her about the place, sorting through the memories panicked and at random. She replaced her handkerchief and fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. Suddenly, she remembered that Anthony lived close by Avon; on the neighbouring estate, even. Hope dawned anew in her breast. She drew a deep breath and her hands balled into fists at her side. Justin’s eyes opened the barest fraction, registering this. Carefully, he rearranged his legs, laid one hand on the seat next to his hip. His body tensed in concentration, preparing for anything. The carriage rattled on, bringing them fast to their destination…
Jennifer heard a noise which broke the spell of the memory. She shook her head, and the images disappeared. She was in her own house, and the sun was shining outside. She heard Anthony call her name from the next room. She sighed, put her stitching down, and went to him.