Joan Wolf by Lord Richards Daughter Page B

horses. The ladies drew or played a favorite instrument. The afternoons were devoted to lawn sports or the countess might organize a picnic or a visit to a local landmark. Dinner was served at seven o’clock, after which there was usually music and cards.
    So passed the first week of August. Julianne was making a conscious effort to devote herself to Lord Rutherford. He was so kind, so steady, so civilized. She told herself a hundred times that she was lucky to have him. She would sit with him and ride with him and listen to his hunting stories for as long as he chose to tell them. She was so sweet about this that everyone watching the young couple together was charmed by their obvious compatibility. It seemed to be a marriage made in heaven.
    The second week of August began with a flutter of activity. Lady Minton announced that she planned to hold a ball in honor of the newly engaged couple. “I would like some of our neighbors to meet dear Julianne,” she said, smiling graciously at her prospective daughter-in-law. There would also be a separate party for the tenants, the servants, the local townspeople, and the yeomanry. Julianne was a little startled by the magnitude of the celebration being organized.
    “My mother and father have always held entertainments for the lower orders,” Lord Rutherford proudly explained to Julianne. “At my coming-of-age the festivities went on for three days.”
    “Heavens,” said Julianne faintly.
    “My parents are always anxious to improve the relations between the classes. The Mintons have been Whigs for generations.” There was the suspicion of a ring in his voice and Julianne had to compress her lips a little to keep from smiling. The Mintons gave a party and thought themselves very liberal. She, however, was the daughter of a man who had done a great deal more for the “lower classes” than throwing an occasional entertainment. She had a large score chalked up against her father, but she had never questioned his sincerity. In the light of Lord Richard’s commitment, the Mintons looked suddenly rather small.
    As soon as she realized what she was thinking, she was horrified. How could she possibly criticize the way of life here at Minton? Hadn’t she been wishing all month that a man like Lord Minton had been her father? She felt a pang of disloyalty to her own chosen ideal of perfection. To make up for her brief defection she smiled up at her fiancé with warm admiration. “How splendid of them, William,” she said softly.
    “Julianne.” His voice was not ringing now, but rough and a trifle breathless. They were alone in the rose garden and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her more passionately than he had ever done before. She let her hand lightly caress his smooth brown hair and idly noticed the beauty of the roses. When he raised his head he was breathing as though he had been running, a fact she remarked with clinical detachment. “I wish we didn’t have to wait until November,” he said fiercely.
    She smiled at him and gently patted his cheek. “I must do as Grandmama wishes, William. And I think she would wish that we go into the house now.” She slipped a hand through his arm and began to walk him toward the open French doors.
    “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “I suppose she would.”
    Shortly after this disturbing incident, during which her own thoughts had briefly turned traitor, Julianne encountered another aspect of life at Minton that ruffled her determined admiration. The entire house party became infected by the acting sickness.
    It all started when George Foster, one of Lord Rutherford’s cousins, proposed that they get up a play for the benefit of their neighbors. As Julianne discovered, amateur theatricals were very popular with the English upper class. Some of the great houses even had their own theaters, with a ballroom and a supper room attached. Minton was not so spectacularly equipped, however, and he gallery would have to do as a