A Michaelmas Wager

Nothing that her father nor Audrey could say was able to force Juliana to divulge what had happened that morning.

  "Something has happened, my child, so why do you not tell us?"

  Juliana sat, not stony faced but rather stony hearted, in the dining room over luncheon, unwilling to respond to her father's entreaties. The Reverend Honeyfield looked helplessly at his niece, and Audrey took over the attack.

  "We do not pry for gossip's sake," she said gently, as Juliana lifted played with a strawberry on her plate. "You know us far better than that. We are simply concerned, that is all, and would do much to relieve you from this melancholy."

  The strawberry sat on the plate alone and untouched, but no conversation followed.

  Sharing another worried glance, Audrey murmured to her uncle, "At least Mr Lovell will be here at any moment. Surely he will be able to talk some sense into her - or pull the truth out of her!"

  Juliana heard the name, but it was as though it were from a place very far off. What did it matter that Rufus Lovell was coming here, after all? He was not the Rufus Lovell whom she had fallen in love with; that man was dead, and he had not existed in the first place, and it was confusing and painful. This man, whoever he was, could pay a call this afternoon. Why not? He was a stranger to her, and she was always vaguely polite to strangers, it came with being a clergyman's daughter. He could give his pleasantries, and then he could leave.

  And she would never see him again.

  "At least she's eating," the Reverend Honeyfield was saying to Audrey, in a voice that Juliana could tell he was purposefully keeping calm and measured. "As long as she is still taking in sustenance, I do not think that there can be too much ill."

  Juliana's hand fell listlessly by her side now that her plate was empty, and Audrey shook her head - but was prevented from speaking by the opening of the door. Charlotte was there, and behind her stood the shape of a very tall man with a strong jaw.

  "Mr Rufus Lovell, sir, come to see Miss Honeyfield," bobbed Charlotte.

  Before his introduction had been fully made, Rufus strode out behind her, anticipation and excitment dripping from every limb. This was the moment, and he was ready for it.

  "It has taken all of my self control to wait this long before coming to visit," he confessed in an easy air, completely oblivious to the worried expressions on two of the three faces around him. "But I have indeed waited until the afternoon, as I said I would, and I would now crave your permission, Reverend Honeyfield, to speak with your daughter. Alone. Just for a moment."

  Nerves and excitement milled about on his face, and Rufus Lovell was almost beside himself with excitement. This was it! He had done it, and better than that, he had won this Michaelmas wager in the best way possible: with his heart. Never could he have imagined the impact that this Miss Juliana Honeyfield would have on him, but by God, he never wanted to imagine himself without her.

  Audrey stood, and then hesitated. "Juliana, I can stay if you so wish."

  Rufus stared at her and then his eyes flashed to Juliana. No, she did not look as though she was displeased to see him; but then, as he looked closer, he could see that she did not look particularly pleased either. She did not look . . . well, anything. There was no strong emotion on that face save apathy.

  "I, too, my dear," said the Reverend Honeyfield slowly, not rising from his seat. "I am sure that Mr Lovell will be happy to say anything to you with us present. Will you not, Mr Lovell?"

  This was not going exactly how Rufus had expected. Propose - in front of not only the lady's cousin, but before her father?

  "Well, I . . ." Rufus coughed, unsure of his footing. Was this the typical approach when proposing marriage to a clergyman's daughter? "The words I have to speak . . . the question that I would, erm, put to Miss Honeyfield is really intended for . . . well, her ears only at this point . . ."

  Audrey's eyes widened slightly as comprehension dawned. "Uncle, I think perhaps I heard someone knocking."

  The Reverend Honeyfield blinked. "Knocking?"

  "Knocking." Audrey spoke firmly, but not as firmly as the hand with which she raised her uncle from his seat and pulled him towards the door. "I think it vital that we check it, you know that Charlotte is much occupied at this time of day, and after all the visitor is undoubtedly for you, who else would call this early? And it will give you a chance to explain to me . . ."

  Her voice faded as she and the Reverend Honeyfield moved through the house, away from the happy couple. Although Rufus was not entirely sure that they were the happy couple any more. All the joy between them that seemed to be seeping out, beyond their control, in full view of the world because they couldn't help it, seemed to be gone. There was a frostiness now, and a lack of welcome that he had never experienced with Juliana before.

  Perhaps this was normal. She must know that this is coming, after all, reasoned Rufus silently as he stared at Juliana. Perhaps this is nerves, or excitement, or an unwillingness to reveal all to her family before I have arrived. All I have to do is step across this room, and ask her to be my bride, and all shall be restored.

  "Juli - Miss Honeyfield." Rufus corrected himself as he moved across the room, circling the chairs that had been left. "I have come here today with no expectations, just hopes. I . . ."

  Here his throat stuck, as he came to stand before her. She had turned away from the table but remained seated, and her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright. Rufus' heart felt as though it was being squeezed from the inside out as he looked at her. To think that they first met through a silly gamble, and now here they were.

  Rufus swallowed, and started again. He lowered himself onto one knee. "Miss Honeyfield. These last few months have been some of the happiest of my life - the happiest, actually. You have made me believe in marriage once more and I thought that was an impossible task. You would make me the happiest man on God's green earth if you agreed to my proposal and became my wife."

  The stillness that Rufus had expected lasted quite a bit longer than he thought. And then longer still. His eyes never left Juliana's face, but hers never seemed to rest on him; they flittered, first one way, and then another.

  Rufus coughed. "Juliana, what is your answer?"

  Finally those deep eyes met his own, but he had to concentrate to catch her response, it was so quiet. "And what day would you have us marry?"

  Not the response that he was expecting, Rufus rallied and replied, still on bended knee, "I hadn't given it much thought, actually. We would want a few weeks to organise . . . perhaps September? No later than the 28th, I think, to enjoy the last of the summer."

  It was as though Juliana had been waiting for this, and nothing else, for with his final words she sprung into life. Rising from her chair in a fury she pushed him over onto the floor and moved restlessly around the room.

  "Juliana! What - "

  "I cannot believe that I fell in love with you!" were the words hurled at him from across the room. "I cannot believe that I trusted you - my father trusted you!"

  Shocked and head ringing slightly from the knock to the floor, Rufus righted himself and stood up, staring at the wild thing that Juliana had become. "Of course you can trust me, what's come over you?"

  Juliana laughed, but it was dry and bitter and cold and Rufus hated it. "Come over me? Why not ask your mistress?"

  "Mistress?" Completely thrown now, Rufus shook his head slowly. "Juliana I have never had any mistress, never - "

  "That's strange," said Juliana, cutting across him, "because I met her this morning!"

  His forehead creased as Rufus attempted to make sense of this last statement. "Met . . . that is impossible, Juliana, there is no such person!"

  "And yet she knows you!" Juliana laughed bitterly as she glared at the man to whom she had been going to give her heart completely and utterly. "And she bids you to call upon her at the soonest opportunity. It seems that she has missed you far more than you have missed her - but then you've had me to distract you!"

  "Yes -
no!" Every word that Rufus uttered seemed to be falling into a trap, and he tried to move forward towards Juliana - surely if he could hold her, could tell her how much she meant to him . . .

  But Juliana did not look as though she wanted to be held; in fact, the last place that she wanted to be was in his arms. Her anger radiated out of her like she was her own sun.

  "Your other women are no concern of mine, of course," she said, sarcastically, "I'm only the woman who you just attempted to engage for marriage, why be honest with me!"

  "But I am being honest!" Rufus spluttered. "I swear before God that I have had no mistresses, not ever!"

  Juliana shook her head. "How dare you - how dare you perjure yourself in my father's house!"

  "This is all wrong," said Rufus helplessly, sinking into a chair at the dining table. It had become clear that Juliana was not going to allow him near her, and rather than play a child's game of racing around the table, it just seemed easier to collapse into the nearest seat. "I came here to propose marriage, and you are rejecting me because of a mistress that I have never had! There is no other woman, Juliana, never has been and never will be: you are the only - "

  "Ohhh, if you say that I am the only woman for you I shall scream." Juliana's voice was low now, and the vehemence pouring out of her eyes were truly frightening. "You cannot convince me that there is no such woman, for I met her this morning."

  "I deny it!" Rufus exploded, temper fraying.

  "Like you deny the wager?"

  The air seemed to solidify around them, and the words uttered by Juliana in haste and in anger resonated around them like a bell. Juliana had her hands on the table and she was leaning towards him, her hair slightly askew, eyes bright and angry, her lips pushed together in anger.

  Rufus felt as though he had been shot.

  He could lie. Of course he could lie, there was no evidence that she could bring out that refuted his word. But . . . lying to Juliana? That was not the foundation on which he wanted to build on the love that he felt, and it would not do to even think about it now.

  "How . . ." Rufus swallowed. His throat was dry, and he did not seem to be able to moisten his tongue. "Who . . ?"

  Juliana stepped back from the table. "You don't even try to deny it."

  All of the anger had left her voice now. There was naught but disappointment and sadness, and it wrenched at Rufus' heart to hear her so forlorn.

  "I will never lie to you," said Rufus quietly, "and the wager - "

  "You think you can explain this away?"

  "I want to tell you the truth! No, Juliana," and Rufus rose as Juliana moved towards the door as if to leave. "I have so much to explain, please, I beg you, stay to hear me!"

  Juliana stopped at the door, but her hand nevertheless rested on its handle. "Why should I?" Her voice was quiet. "What could you possibly say to make this forgivable?"

  Rufus walked around the table slowly, inching himself towards her, as he spoke. "Only this; that I took the wager not knowing you, and not knowing how deeply I would care for you." Another step closer. "That I do not think, had I not liked you so very much, that I would have continued on with the charade, but left you in peace." Another two steps. "That from the moment we began conversing, I have been dazzled by your wit, and your bluntness, and your sarcasm, and enjoyed your company far more than any other." Another step, now he was just two steps away from her. "That I could never have predicted feeling like this, and feelings like those rushing through my heart and mind every moment that I am with you - or the pain that I feel when I am not with you."

  She was but a step away from him now, and she stared at him, unmoved both physically and emotionally. There was no kindness in those eyes anymore.

  Rufus took one more step, and found himself a mere inch from her. Those clear eyes stared up at him, deep and clear and pained, and regret poured through his veins.

  "This wager - this Michaelmas wager," he whispered, "has been long forgotten in my heart. How could it remain when I had such beauty of character and of soul before me?"

  Reaching down without even looking, his left hand found her right hand. She did not struggle, and she did not move away. Slowly, Rufus took her other hand in his. All he needed to do was pull her the smallest amount, and Juliana Honeyfield would fall into his arms.

  "I love you." The statement was simple, but for Rufus it was heartfelt. "I cannot change the past, I know that - but I want our future to be together, not apart."

  The tiniest of movements, and Juliana leaned towards him, and Rufus captured her lips with his own.

  Juliana trembled, and she tried to remember, she tried to keep a hold of herself. This was the man who had betrayed her, betrayed her before he had even offered himself to her - but the power of the attraction between them was impossible to deny and she lost herself in the kiss, unable to deny her feelings for one moment.

  And then the moment was over. She tilted her head back, and looked up into the eyes of Rufus Lovell. A smile danced across his face.

  "I love you, Juliana Honeyfield." he repeated softly.

  Juliana smiled bitterly, and removed her hands from his. "And I could never love someone who plays with my emotions like you have done, Rufus Lovell."