Authors: Connie Mason
New York City—March 1851
Errant rays of early spring sunshine stole through the windows, falling upon the enticing form and beautiful features of Juliet Darcy. But Juliet, called Julie by her family and friends, was oblivious of her appearance as she wandered about the quiet house touching objects that once belonged to her Aunt Lavinia.
Since Aunt Lavinia, Julie’s father’s only sister, had died two weeks ago, life hadn’t been very pleasant for the lovely young woman left into the care of her Uncle Hugo, Aunt Lavinia’s ne’er-do-well husband. Julie cared little for the way Uncle Hugo looked at her through those light-colored eyes of his that seem to grow bolder and bolder with each passing day.
If only papa hadn’t left her nearly two years ago in the care of Lavinia and Hugo while he went off to California to fulfill his dreams of riches, Julie silently lamented. She was so happy living with her father in their tiny apartment over his tobacco shop where she learned to love the many exotic fragrances of aged tobacco. Since her mother died five years ago, Julie and her father, Carl Darcy, had lived a comfortable existence in the rooms above the store. But much to Julie’s everlasting sorrow, her father sold his shop and joined the hordes of fortune seekers streaming west when gold had been discovered at Sutter’s Mill. Julie had been left behind in the care of Lavinia and Hugo until her father made his fortune in the gold fields. Carl
Darcy had written one letter to his daughter from San Francisco just before he left to work his claim, and then nothing more.
For months now Lavinia and Hugo had accepted the fact that Carl was probably dead, but Julie continued to resist the possibility that her father had died either while working his claim or was killed by claim jumpers or outlaws so prevalent in the lawless west.
And now, even Lavinia was gone, felled by pneumonia after a heavy cold that refused to be quelled. While Aunt Lavinia was alive Uncle Hugo dared not touch her, but now, she could not trust him. Julie began locking her bedroom door each night and staying as far away from Hugo as possible. But even that was difficult for she was obliged to prepare their meals and sit at the same table with the despicable man.
As if on cue, Hugo Kiley appeared from behind a closed door, scratching his shaggy head and yawning hugely. He was not an ugly man. Certainly a gentle creature like Aunt Lavinia had seen some redeeming features in the huge frame and florid good looks of the bluff Irishman raised in New York’s shantytown. But with Aunt Lavinia’s death Hugo’s true character, until now tempered by his wife’s innate gentleness, manifested itself in ways that truly frightened Julie.
“Have ye a little breakfast for yer uncle, lass?” Hugo asked, his colorless eyes fixed on the generous curve of Julie’s breasts.
“It’s on the back of the stove, uncle,” Julie was quick to reply. “I’ll set it out for you.”
As she hurried past her uncle, one long arm snaked out and wrapped itself about her tiny waist. “Ah, yer a toothsome morsel, me girl,” Hugo exclaimed as he pulled her roughly against his barrel-like chest. “The lads at the firehouse envy me. That they do,” he beamed.
Hugo Kiley was a fireman. A job he proudly held for many years, boasting of his strength and agility despite
his advancing years. He was well known around the neighborhood and thought to be an upstanding citizen, even though his drinking was fast becoming a problem.
“Please, Uncle Hugo, let me go,” cried Julie, twisting from his cruel grip. “What would Aunt Lavinia say if she saw you behaving toward me in such a shameful manner?”
For a moment Hugo looked uncomfortable. Then his face split in a wide grin. “Yer aunt is dead, me girl, God rest her soul, but me, I’m alive. And so are ye. But go on with ye,” he said, giving her a shove toward the kitchen, “fix me breakfast. I’ll have ye yet, lass. Yer cherry belongs to me.” Her cheeks reddened by her uncle’s vulgar words and implication, Julie fled into the kitchen, certain it was no longer safe to remain under her uncle’s roof and living off his charity.
Hugo Kiley chewed his food in thoughtful silence as Julie went about her chores. He thought the girl more beautiful and provocative than any woman he had ever known. Two years ago she had been placed in his charge by her fanciful father whose dreams of gold were likely his undoing. At sixteen Juliet Darcy had just begun to exhibit the beginnings of a great beauty she would one day possess. During the next two years Hugo watched her closely as her slim contours filled and molded into womanly proportions, her lush breasts and flaring hips swelling sensuously beneath her dress.
But to Hugo, Julie’s face was the most arresting with her small pointed chin, delicate nose and full lips, red as ripe cherries. Long wavy hair the color of warm honey fell to her waist in a tangled mass of wayward curls. Dark brows arched above eyes the color of a clear blue sky thickly lashed with feathery spirals that some considered too long to be decent. Any man would be proud to call such a woman his. And Hugo intended to have her. He considered Lavinia’s unexpected death providential, proving that he was meant to have the lass.
Even Father O’Neil had given his grudging blessing to Hugo’s plans. Now it was time for Julie to learn of them … and accept them.
“Set ye down, lass, I would talk with ye,” Hugo smiled graciously, gesturing toward a chair.
“Talk, Uncle Hugo? Whatever about?”
“Yer future, lass, that’s what. With yer aunt gone and yer father probably dead, I’m yer legal guardian.” Julie remained silent, eyeing Hugo warily. “Have ye ever thought of marriage?” he asked her.
“Marriage! Why, no,” Julie said truthfully. “How could I think of marriage when I know no men? No, uncle, I have no desire to marry. At least not until papa returns.”
“Bah! How many times must I tell ye yer father is long dead by now. Not one word have ye heard from the man in two years.”
“He’s not dead!” Julie insisted stubbornly. “I’d know if he were.”
“Be that as it may, me girl, the fact still remains that I’m yer guardian. And it’s come to me ears that people are beginning to talk about us living alone here in this house, what with our not being blood kin and all. Even the good Father O’Neil spoke to me of it just yesterday.”
“Father O’Neil?” questioned Julie dumbly. “I can’t believe a Godly man like him would think—”
“It’s not him, lass,” interrupted Hugo impatiently, “tis others who are doing the talking. Father O’Neil just brought it to my attention. He suggested I do the right thing by ye.”
“The right thing?” A finger of dread snaked its way up Julie’s spine as Hugo’s words took on sinister meaning.
“I’m thinking the only way to stop the gossips is for us to get married,” announced Hugo grandly. “What do ye say to that, me girl?”
“You’re crazy!” Julie gasped, shocked. “The idea is preposterous! My father would never allow such a thing. Why, Aunt Lavinia would turn in her grave if she knew what you have in mind.”
“Father O’Neil will marry us tomorrow in the church,” continued Hugo blithely, completely ignoring Julie’s protests. “He agrees with me that in our case we are justified in not observing a full year of mourning. Yer reputation must be protected at all costs.”
“Protected by whom, you?” spat Julie, her face flushed with anger. “No, uncle, I’ll not marry you. I’d rather leave this house.”
Undaunted by Julie’s outburst, Hugo smiled indulgently. “Where will ye go, lass?”
“Anywhere,” declared Julie hotly. “I’ll get a job as a governess, or a maid, anything.”
“I think not,” Hugh smiled slyly. “Ye need me permission to leave this house. If ye are determined to run away I’ll find ye. The law is on my side. I’ll have the police out searching for ye and ye’ll not get far.”
Julie stared at her uncle, mouth agape. As unjust as it seemed, the police would indeed be on his side. As a young woman of eighteen she had no rights whatsoever. As her guardian her uncle could do whatever he pleased with her short of murder. But Julie, always resourceful and spirited, would never allow herself to be used in such a vile manner. She would throw herself on Father O’Neil’s mercy and beg him to place her with a family in return for her services.
As if reading her thoughts Hugo grasped Julie’s wrists, dragging her from her chair. “I’m thinking ye might be trying to run away, me darlin’,” he smiled nastily. “I’m also thinking I’m knowing of a way to make sure me bride-to-be don’t fly from me lovin’ arms.”
Before Julie could react to his words Hugo slammed
his mouth down on hers, forcing his tongue between her tight lips. Julie gagged, growing faint from the unexpected attack. A hard object protruded into her stomach as Hugo’s huge hands roamed freely over breasts and buttocks, pulling her tightly against his stabbing flesh.
Whimpering softly, Julie struggled, her arms reaching out frantically for something, anything. “I’ll not wait. I’ll have ye now, me darlin’,” Hugo panted, lifting her slight form in his burly arms and striding purposefully into the bedroom, depositing her none too gently in the center of the bed. “Father O’Neil won’t fault me for having me bride a day early. I’ve waited two long years for this moment. I’ve watched ye grow from a gangling lass into a rare beauty, yer woman’s body begging for the attention of a man.”
The moment Hugo’s hands left her to remove his clothes Julie was up and running. But not fast enough as Hugo caught her before she reached the door. “Uncle, please, don’t do this. At least wait until we are married,” she pleaded, hedging. “I … I want to go to my wedding a virgin. Surely you won’t begrudge me that.”
Hugo looked confused. “Are ye telling me ye won’t fight this marriage?”
“I’ll … I’ll marry you, uncle, willingly, if you agree to my wishes,” Julie lied, willing to agree to almost anything to save herself.
At first Hugo was openly skeptical, refusing to believe that his strong-willed niece would suddenly acquiesce to his wishes. “Ye swear? Ye swear on yer aunt’s dead body that ye won’t change yer mind?”
“I swear on Aunt Lavinia’s dead body,” Julie said solemnly, “that my mind is made up and I won’t change it.”
“Ye won’t regret it, lass,” Hugo grinned toothily. “I’ll be good to ye. Once yer broke in proper-like ye’ll
learn to love what I can do for ye in bed. Yer Aunt Lavinia had no complaints.”
Julie shuddered. It was true that she swore she wouldn’t change her mind, and she meant it. But what Uncle Hugo couldn’t know was that Julie had already made up her mind to escape. The moment the despicable man left the house she was gone … for good.
“Well,” Hugo finally decided, “I’m thinking I’ve not the time now to finish what I started so it suits me purposes to grant yer wish. It’s pure ye’ll be when I take ye to wife but pure ye won’t remain for no longer than it takes me to remove yer clothes. It’s off to work I am now, lass. Give yer bridegroom a kiss to keep him going the rest of the day.”
Vastly relieved, Julie concealed her revulsion the best she could and dutifully gave Hugo a peck on the cheek. Chuckling, Hugo pulled her protesting body into his burly arms. “That’s not what I had in mind, lass,” he said as his mouth covered her trembling lips, sucking the very breath from her soul. Before he released her he boldly fondled her breasts, rudely inserting his hands down the front of her bodice. Julie squirmed uncomfortably but bravely stood her ground.
The moment Hugo Kiley left the house whistling a spritely tune, Julie literally leaped into action. Dragging a large carpetbag from beneath the bed she stuffed it with her meager articles of clothing, adding to it a comb and brush and several pieces of her mother’s jewelry. Though not of extreme value they were nonetheless precious to Julie. On a sudden whim she took her aunt’s good wool cape with the velvet collar and lining, leaving her own threadbare garment in its place. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to confiscate the few coins her uncle kept in the house for emergencies.
Wrapping some bread, cheese and sausage in a napkin and stuffing an apple in her pocket, Julie left the house, not once looking back. She knew exactly what
she was going to do. She was going to California to look for her father. She had no idea how she would get there but there was no doubt in her mind that she would one day reach California and find her father.
Lugging her ungainly burden Julie began walking with no particular destination in mind, knowing that her safety depended on putting as much distance as possible between herself and her uncle. By late afternoon Julie found herself standing on the docks, tired, hungry and footsore, watching the longshoremen loading and unloading the many ships lining the harbor. Selecting a sturdy box she seated herself and munched on her apple, wishing herself aboard one of those stalwart ships on her way to California.
So engrossed was Julie in her own dilemma that she failed to notice the small form standing nearby, gazing at her curiously. “Are you one of the California wives?”
“What?” Julie was startled to find she was not alone. “Were you speaking to me? I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
The girl facing Julie was about her own age with clouds of dark hair swirling about her slim shoulders and an impish face sprinkled with pale freckles. Green eyes laughed at her through thick black lashes. A wide generous mouth kept her from true beauty but there was no denying she was vastly attractive. Though slim of hips, her breasts small but shapely, the girl was undeniably feminine.
“I merely wondered if you were one of the women sailing for California aboard the Westwind in two days,” repeated the girl, laughing at Julie’s obvious confusion. “I was hoping we might be shipmates. I’m Polly Carter, who are you?”
“I’m Juliet Darcy,” said Julie, smiling at the friendly girl. “But I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Oh,” said Polly, slightly embarrassed. “I
thought … well, never mind, Juliet.”
“No,” persisted Julie. “Tell me about it. Are you going to California? And please, call me Julie.”
“Yes, Julie, isn’t it exciting? It will be a great adventure. Of course, I’m hoping my husband-to-be is a kind man. And not too old or ugly,” she added with a mischievous sparkle in her green eyes.