Jude shut the carriage door, striding away, climbing atop the carriage. His hands clenched into fists as the driver cracked the whip and they were rattling down the driveway, through the tall gates of the manor and out onto the road towards the village.
He tried to stifle the strong emotion, swallow it down. But it was hard. Very hard. He gazed out over the passing meadows with unseeing eyes.
He had told her about the night before, that he could accept her courting. He had told her he realised it would happen. But it was a very different thing being confronted with it so blatantly, especially when he hadn’t been expecting it right at this moment.
He drew a deep breath. He instinctively didn’t like the high handed and overbearing way the gentleman had insisted he accompany her to the village, even though he must have discerned that she wasn’t comfortable with the proposal. If Jude had seen it, why hadn’t the gentleman, and just agreed to leave and call upon her another day?
He ambushed her;he thought darkly.She hadn’t even known he was intending to call and then he expects he can just take over her entire day as if it was his due.
Jude glowered into the distance. He didn’t like the man, and it wasn’t just because the gentleman was courting Evelina, although he supposed he would still have felt this strongly even if she was courting a great man, one he actually respected. It was going to be harder witnessing her with other men than he had anticipated.
But that was part of their deal. A dealhehad brokered with her so that they could be together without it destroying either of them.
His fists clenched tighter. Perhaps he had just been deluding himself that he could handle it in order to be with her. So he could snatch whatever he could before it inevitably ended. Had it been an act of desperation that he was going to regret? Because at the moment, it seemed that way. The thought of watching them together, having to stand back and pretend that she meant nothing to him, seemed like torture to him.
Jude sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day. Of that, he was very certain. How on earth was he going to handle it?
***
Evelina stood across from Jude on the stage, clutching her script tightly in her hand. She tried not to glance down at Mr Beaumont, who was sitting at the front of the stage on a chair, watching the rehearsal with a condescending look upon his face.
Her heart tightened with distress that this was even happening. The gentleman had taken her by surprise and when he had insisted he accompany her to this rehearsal; she hadn’t been expecting it, and didn’t have a ready excuse prepared. He had ensnared her, well and truly.
She had been so angry with him that she hadn’t been able to speak to him properly for the first leg of the trip into Charingworth, talking to him in monosyllables. By the time they reached the village, she had composed herself enough that she was able to be civil to him. But the resentment against him being here, intruding upon her time, hadn’t dissipated at all.
And the worst of it was that she had to face Jude like this with the gentleman watching them. They had reached the scene where Cinderella was rushing away from the prince, trying to escape before her beautiful ballgown turned into rags on the stroke of midnight. This was the scene that had unstitched her entirely the day before.
Evelina took a deep breath, trying to focus upon her lines. But being this close to Jude again, staring into those magnetic green eyes while he beseeched Cinderella not to leave the ball, was starting to overwhelm her once more. She felt herself slipping into the same spell as last time. But somehow, she got through it, even managing to flee on the sixth gong this time, which pleased Reverend Basingstoke very much.
When the rehearsal was done, Mr Beaumont clapped half-heartedly, not looking very impressed. Evelina flushed with embarrassment as she left the stage to talk with him, which she felt compelled to do, considering he had been waiting for her all this time. It was yet another thing she resented.
“Well done,” he said, with that same condescending smile upon his face. “You make a good cinder girl, my lady. One might think you really were so blighted in life.” He paused, frowning slightly. “But I am not certain about your prince’s acting ability. Surely the good vicar could have found someone with more chops than a common coachman?” He laughed, glancing dismissively towards Jude, who was still on the stage.
Evelina’s face tightened. “I think he is doing a superlative job, especially considering he was compelled to accept the role after Mr. Pimm, the tailor, proved too ill to carry on with it.”
Mr Beaumont gave her an odd look, but he didn’t say anything. The next moment, he took her firmly by the arm, spiriting her out of the hall, saying she had promised him a walk around the village, and he had been waiting patiently for the time.
Evelina glanced back at Jude. He was watching them exit the hall. Her heart contorted. He didn’t look happy, and she could hardly blame him. Mr Beaumont had taken over this whole day in such an unexpected way. And even though he had told her last night that he could accept her being courted as one of the prices they must be prepared to pay for being together, she wasn’t sure if he had realised how hard it was going to be.
Her heart tightened with distress as she and Mr Beaumont strolled around the village. Would Jude tell her he couldn’t bear to see her with another man, even though he knew she didn’t care for the gentleman? That she could never care for anyone but him? Would it be too difficult for him?
A little girl of about six approached them. She was carrying a tray filled with small trinkets. She executed a wobbly curtsy, smiling brightly.
“Would you like to buy something?” she asked, holding up her tray to them. “They will make wonderful gifts for Christmas!”
Evelina smiled at the girl, her heart melting a bit at her gap-toothed smile, recognising her as the youngest child of the village cobbler. She was just about to bend down to inspect her wares when Mr Beaumont pulled her back by the arm, jerking her behind him.
“Leave us be,” he snarled at the girl. “We are not interested in your paltry wares, child. Begone.”
The little girl’s face crumpled a bit, but she nodded, walking quickly away. Evelina gaped at Mr Beaumont, unable to believe he had just been so cruel and dismissive towards the child. And now he produced a large handkerchief, holding it to his nose in an exaggerated fashion.
“You are being ridiculous,” she said in a low voice, trying to contain her fury. “What harm would there have been in purchasing one of her wares? Or even beingkindto her?”
Mr Beaumont took the handkerchief away from his nose, waving it in the air. “That childsmelt, my lady. Quite badly.” He shuddered. “How do I know that her wares are not infected with the consumption or some other hideous illness? I was only protecting you.”
Evelina’s face tightened, but she didn’t say anything further. They walked on. Mr Beaumont stopped at the tailor’s shop, admiring some cravats on display in the window, completely absorbed.
Evelina gazed back down the street, watching the girl. Mr Beaumont had just proven his true character in that one small exchange with the cobbler’s little girl. He wasn’t just a condescending, self-absorbed snob, he was a cruel one. Mr Beaumont was a man who had no time or patience for the common people. And the way he had spoken about Jude had shown it, too.