Page 30 of When He Was Wicked
James wasted no time pondering why his aunt had moved and arrived at a modest cottage with the loveliest garden he hadever seen at about two in the afternoon. He dismounted from his carriage and noted no stable lad appeared to offer water or oats for the horses. In fact, he spied no stables. The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked along the driveway, up the few front steps, and knocked on the door.
It took a few moments before a rosy-cheeked, rotund woman opened it. She stared at him and then at the well-sprung carriage behind him.
“May I help you, Sir?” she asked a mite nervously.
"I am here to see Mrs. Judith Brimley. I've no appointment, but if you tell her Lord Maschelly has called, I would appreciate it."
Flustered the lady stepped back and beckoned for him to follow her. James was escorted to a small but tastefully furnished parlor—a pianoforte and a harp were positioned near a small chaise; the dark damask sofa matched the red and peach patterned wallpapers and drapes which covered the floor to ceiling windows. It was only upon close inspection one would notice the furniture and carpets had the appearance of shabby gentility.
When Mrs. Judith Brimley entered her small but tasteful parlor, James glanced up. She paused, a hand fluttering to her chest.
“There is no mistake you are the earl,” she said after a minute of staring.
And standing before the fireplace, he was aware of how he would appear to her—a powerfully built man with dark hair, and a swarthy complexion.
A pleased smile settled on her lovely countenance, and she advanced further into the room. When she made to dip into a curtsy, he stopped her.
“Please, let’s not stand on formality.”
She beamed at him, and he couldn't help staring at her loveliness.
“This is indelicate of me, but might I enquire of your age, Mrs. Brimley?”
Verity would have scolded him for his forward and ungentlemanly manners.
"Please call me Judith…or Aunt Judith if you would prefer," she said hesitantly, and with such a hopeful air, he disguised the shock of emotions her word elicited.
“Perhaps Judith for now?”
Her smile got even brighter, for his familiarity showed he was willing to accept a degree of intimacy. “I am four and fifty.”
"And still one of the loveliest ladies my eyes have ever beheld," he said with soft charm, thinking how pleased Verity would be with his compliment. It had come from a genuine place inside, and he couldn't help wondering if Judith and his mother bore any resemblance.
She flushed and patted her hair with self-conscious charm. They sat on the sofa closest to the windows overlooking the beautiful gardens.
“Forgive me for arriving without advance notice.”
Her eyes brimmed with unexpected tears. “Think nothing of it. I have been waiting eight and twenty years to meet my sister’s child.”
He cleared his throat. “I never knew you existed,” he offered, as a way to soothe the hurt glaring from green eyes so very much like his own.
His aunt’s tears spilled over. Discomfited at the sight, and unsure what comfort to offer, James withdrew his handkerchief and handed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes and breathed in shakily. Then she told him of his mother, a young lady from a family of gentry which had ties to nobility through an uncle who was a baronet, before she had fallen in love with the earl.
"Their love was a scandal of sorts, a match of the season, an evident love match. Though through her marriage my prospects for a good marriage improved considerably, I moved with her to Birchmount Manor because we were best of friends. I lived with Gina—"
“Gina?”
“It is what we called her growing up. I stayed with her from when I was seventeen until her death.”
James flinched, and she leaned forward and patted his arms reassuringly. "She had a good life, a blessed life I would say, and she was deliriously happy. After…after she had gone to her rewards the earl banished me from Birchmount Manor. At that time I was six and twenty, a spinster, without many prospects, but I made a good match only a few months later with a most wonderful gentleman. We had twenty good years and two fine daughters.”
“I have cousins?”
“Yes, Alice is seventeen and Eleanor nineteen. They are lovely girls, however overly inquisitive and have been known to act without decorum and eavesdrop at doors.”
Muffled laughter sounded, then footsteps were heard scampering away.
“Please forgive their impertinence,” she said, flushing.
