Lady Phoebe Renshaw and her lady’s maid, Eva Huntford, are preparing for a wedding, but it may not be the happy occasion everyone hopes for . . .
Since the Great War, some family fortunes have suffered, including those of the Renshaws. Despite being the granddaughter of an earl, Julia Renshaw is under pressure to marry for money—and has settled for Gilbert Townsend, a viscount and a wealthy industrialist. He is decades older than Julia, and it’s clear to her sister Phoebe—and to Eva, who has been like a surrogate mother to the girls—that this is not a love match. Nevertheless, the wedding takes place—and in a hurry.
At the reception aboard the groom’s yacht, there appears to be tension between Gil and several guests: his best man, a fellow veteran of the Boer War; his grouchy spinster sister; and his current heir, a nervous young cousin named Ernest. The bride is also less than pleased when she discovers that her honeymoon will be more crowded than expected—with Gil’s pretty secretary, among others, coming along.
That very night, Julia pounds on her sister’s door, brandishing a bandaged hand and reporting a hot-tempered outburst on her new husband’s part. Julia is feeling doubt and regret about her hasty decision, but returns to the boat. Then the next morning, before the yacht can depart the harbor, Gil’s body is found in the water below—and Phoebe and Eva must discover who pushed him over . . . before the Renshaws’ social standing is irreparably stained by Julia’s arrest for his murder . . .
Julia Renshaw Character Post:
Julia Renshaw here, on the morning of the most important day of my life. In just a few short hours, I’ll become the Viscountess Annondale, and while my grandmother, the Countess of Wroxly, would have preferred I marry an earl or marquess or—good heavens—a duke, my husband to be, Gilbert Townsend, has enough money to make even Grams happy. Actually, that’s putting it mildly. Grams is ecstatic about the choice I’ve made.
At the moment I’m alone in my room at the Mariner hotel in Cowes, Isle of Wight. No one else is up, except my maid who has gone to fetch my tea. Beyond my windows, the Solent is choppy and gray, frothed with specks of white and dotted with moored vessels that bob and toss on the waves. Gil’s is among them, a steamer yacht named for his first wife, Georgiana. It’s there we’ll hold our wedding reception after a ceremony on the island. Immediately following, we’ll set sail on our honeymoon. And no, the irony of honeymooning on a vessel named for Gil’s first wife isn’t lost on me.
The weather promises to be rainy and windy, as the sky reveals little hope of the sun peeking through. Good. The day matches my mood. I don’t love Gil and I doubt I ever will. There’s someone else I’d much prefer to marry, whom I would marry, if not for the sticky financial dilemma we Renshaws have found ourselves in since the end of the Great War. I won’t mention his name, nor even think about him at all from this day forward. I’ve made my choice, set my course, and there is no looking back. I’ve promised myself I’ll make Gil a good wife. I know the part I must play, the rules, the expectations, and how the woman I have been or wish to be must henceforth remain buried deep within the image I’ll project to the world. I do know how to keep up my end of a bargain, you see.
It’s fine, really. I don’t mind a bit. After all, I’ve been raised to this. And once I’ve produced an heir for Gil, why, then I may quite do as I wish. As for my sisters . . . well. I’ve got two of them: Phoebe, next in age after me, and Amelia, still in school. If I do this, perhaps they won’t have to. But don’t tell them I said that. They’d be appalled that I’d make such a sacrifice on their behalf and double their already considerable efforts to persuade me to change my mind.
And then there’s Fox, my youngest sibling and grandfather’s heir. He’ll be the Earl of Wroxly someday, but unless something is done now to reinvigorate the family seat, Foxwood Hall, poor Fox will inherit a title so empty it echoes like the vaulted ceiling of the great hall. He’s a cheeky, impertinent boy who laughs at the expense of others, but he’s still my brother, an orphan, and deserves better than a bankrupt estate.
Soon, my maid, Hetta, will be in with my tea and to help me dress. Not in my wedding attire, of course, but in the outfit I’ll wear over to the Royal Yacht Squadron clubhouse just down the road, where my sisters and I will don our finery. Hetta came to us from a baroness in Switzerland who remarried and moved to America, and decided she wanted an American lady’s maid. Hetta speaks almost no English, and I prefer it that way. I never need to mind what I say in front of her. Servants can be the worst gossips! Why, my last maid eavesdropped on my private affairs and sold my secrets to a London scandal sheet. Needless to say, she got the sack and received no letter of recommendation from me.
Ah, here is Hetta at last. Suddenly, I wish she were dearest Eva, the lady’s maid I once shared with my two sisters. Grams deemed it necessary for me to have my own maid several months ago, but I miss Eva’s steady good sense, her calming manner, and the fact that she knows me so well she can anticipate my needs almost before I do. I never worried about Eva betraying me. She is discretion and honor personified. But no, she is to remain with my sisters while Hetta, a good soul to be sure, will accompany me to my new life. At times like this, I also wish I could lean on Phoebe. You see, she and I don’t get on well, and haven’t since our father died in the war. I cannot say exactly why. I believe I envy her, rather. Forgive me for saying it, but I’m considered the beautiful one, and it’s true, Phoebe is plain by comparison, but she’s smart and determined and full of the sort of energy that gets things done. She was also Father’s favorite, and I suppose I’ve always resented that. Try as we might, we never can find even ground between us.
And yet I know that should I need her—truly need her—she would come to my aid, with few questions asked. Oh, but what kind of thinking is this? I’m about to be married and will have a husband to care for me. What could possibly go wrong?
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Thank you for hosting "Julia" today! She and I appreciate it very much!
Posted by: Alyssa Maxwell | 02/03/2019 at 06:33 PM