The Last Word

by Samantha Hastings

  Lucinda’s yawn turned into a sigh. She was, however, starting to give up on hoping her father would ever relent about letting her work for the company. Even worse, since her outburst in his study, her father had steadily avoided her. Every night, he either stayed late at his office or ate dinner at his club, leaving Lucinda alone with only Mrs. Patton for company.

  The postman took off his hat and waved at Lucinda through the window. She ran to the door and opened it. He handed her the post and smiled at her like an old friend. “Good day, miss.”

  The top letter was addressed to L. Leavitt. She looked up at the postman and grinned. “It is a good day. Thank you, sir.”

  She closed the door and put the top letter in her apron pocket. She riffled through the other letters and found another for her, from Persephone. She smiled and placed it in her pocket as well. The rest of the letters she handed over to Mr. Ruffles, who stood next to her, patiently waiting to receive them. He opened the door to the sitting room for her. Inside, Mrs. Patton was asleep, sitting up on the sofa, her head bobbing lightly up and down with her breathing.

  Lucinda sat on the chaise, as far away from Mrs. Patton as possible. She pulled Persephone’s letter out of her pocket, broke the seal, and opened it:

  Dear Lucinda,

  How I wish you could have accompanied us to Brighton and shared in all of our adventures! I am sure you would have loved to come sea bathing with me. The ladies have to enter the water through a bathing machine (a little house on wheels) where I changed into my bathing dress, and the attendant tied a cord around my waist so I wouldn’t float away. What a lark!

  We are staying in a hotel across the street from the Royal Pavilion and it looks like something out of a book with all of its domes and minarets. Lord Adlington says it resembles a fancy cake more than it does a royal palace. But I confess, I find it fascinating, just like the wicked Prince Regent who built it. The Pavilion is now owned by the city of Brighton and the royal stables have been converted to a concert hall. My family attended a concert there only last night with Lord Adlington.

  Lord Adlington has grown most particular in his attentions to me and has even asked me to call him by his given name—Alfred. I must confess to you that I like him more and more every time I see him—and I see him quite a lot! Each morning we walk on the beach with Antigone, who sends you her warmest regards.

  I hope you are doing well, and I can’t wait until we come back to London and I see you again.

  Your friend,

  Persephone Merritt

  P.S. I still want to hear the full story of the thornbush.

  Lucinda couldn’t help but laugh as she read her friend’s descriptions of sea bathing and a certain earl they both knew. She was still smiling to herself as she folded the pages back together.

  The second letter was lighter than the first. A single sheet of paper. Nervously, Lucinda chewed on her thumbnail. What if it was nothing again? She didn’t need another disappointment. She stared at the letter for over a minute before she ran her thumb underneath the seal and opened it. The page contained only a short missive in an elaborately ornate hand:

  Dear Mr. L. Leavitt,

  Pay me a visit if you wish to know more of the author Mrs. Smith.

  Mrs. Burntwood

  Burntwood Folly

  Reading, Berkshire

  The extra flourish at the end of every word was identical to the letter Mr. Gibbs had shown her in the office.

  Lucinda clasped the letter to her chest. She couldn’t get enough air, her chest straining against her tight corset: She’d finally found the person who sent the final pages of She Knew She Was Right to the editor!

  Lucinda slumped back in the chair and read the letter once more. It contained only one cryptic line, but it was enough to restore hope.

  Mr. Ruffles opened the door to the sitting room and announced, “Mr. Randall.”

  Both Lucinda and Mrs. Patton scrambled to their feet, Mrs. Patton covering a yawn with her hand. David strode into the room as if he owned the house. His brown hair was slightly disheveled, and his leather bag was stuffed full of papers. He bowed to both ladies, but his brown eyes were on Lucinda.

  “Do sit down,” Lucinda and Mrs. Patton said in unison.

  David carefully placed his leather bag on the table and pulled out a small brown package before taking a seat on the chaise next to Lucinda. He handed the package to her. “For you.”

  “Thank you,” Lucinda said, taking the package from his hand. She untied the twine and unwrapped the brown paper. Inside was a newly bound red leather volume. She turned the book to its spine and read aloud: “East and West by Mrs. Smith. It’s one of my favorite works; I did not even know it was available in book form. Thank you so much!”

  “Mr. Gibbs said that it isn’t for sale for another month,” David said. “I thought you might enjoy receiving the very first copy.”

  “I do!” Lucinda said, caressing the cover of the book. “It is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received.”

  David smiled at her and she felt breathless again, as if her corset strings were tied rather too tight.

  “It certainly has a handsome binding,” Mrs. Patton said from across the room.

  “And you brought more business papers for my father to look at?” Lucinda prompted.

  “Yes,” David said. “More of what you—your father has been doing. Checking numbers, making sure they are correct, and comparing them with our own estimates. We hope to have the Durham speculation signed and completed in the next month.”

  “I can certainly tell my father to do that.”

  “He is free to add any notes or suggestions you or he may have to the contracts in the margins,” David said. “These are only the roughs; we will have a clerk write the final ones out in law hand.”

  “I am not at all sure why you are not telling Mr. Leavitt directly about this,” Mrs. Patton said. “So much talk of business can be damaging to a young lady’s delicate constitution.”

  Lucinda swallowed the retort that she was not at all delicate. But it was useless to fight with Mrs. Patton. She would only give a long sigh and repeat her usual advice.

  David, surprisingly, came to her defense. “Miss Leavitt is one the most intelligent people I have ever met, and I believe she is more than capable of doing what I’ve asked of her. And I must also add that she is lucky to have your care and support.”

  Mrs. Patton’s thin, sallow cheeks showed a little blush. “I treat her as if she were my own daughter.”

  “Miss Leavitt is so blessed to have you as a companion,” he said, the charmer.

  Miss Leavitt did not agree, but she put on a civil smile nevertheless. “I have a surprise for you as well, Mr. Randall. And it is as wonderful as your book.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked shrewdly. “It is leather-bound.”

  Lucinda handed David the letter and whispered, “I have finally found someone who knew Mrs. Smith. We might be hours away from knowing the true ending.”

  David read the letter. “How appropriate that the person is from Reading.”

  “It is pronounced ‘Redding,’” Mrs. Patton said primly as she looked up from her embroidery.

  “When can we set out for Reading?” Lucinda asked brightly. “I am sure my father is very eager to have this business matter resolved.”

  David shook his head. “I am afraid I cannot leave London for at least a week. I am too far behind with my work as it is.”

  Lucinda folded her arms. A week was much too long. She’d already waited a fortnight. “Then I will leave tomorrow without you.”

  “You cannot travel unattended,” David protested.

  “Mrs. Patton is my chaperone; I need no other. I am sure my father will agree,” Lucinda said, and added to herself, I don’t need any escort!

  “But, Lucinda—” Mrs. Patton protested.

  “We shall take the early train,” Lucinda said.

  David stood. “I should go—allow you time to pack.”


  Lucinda got to her feet, still cradling the leather-bound book in one arm. “Thank you so much for the book and for the papers. You … you are a true friend,” she said, holding out her other hand.

  He didn’t take her hand; instead, he reached inside his jacket pocket and took out a sealed envelope. “I almost forgot to give this to you,” he said as he handed it to her.

  “What is this?”

  “The salary for the work that has been completed.”

  She couldn’t help but grin—she held in her hand money she had rightfully earned. “Thank you.”

  “It is I who should be grateful,” David said, and finally took her hand in his and bowed over it. Then he brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. Her mouth hung open in surprise. She probably resembled a fish, but David continued to smile at her. He released her hand, bowed over Mrs. Patton’s hand, and then was gone, taking with him something Lucinda could not name, but missed as soon as he left.

  * * *

  The clock struck ten and David cursed aloud. How could it already be so late in the evening? He’d finished all of his correspondence, approved the contract proposals for Fitzgerald and Grossman, and now all he had left to do was check a stack of ledgers the size of a mountain on his desk.

  The ledgers reminded him of Lucinda.

  She’d be gone in the morning, traveling to Reading alone. Not that he was worried for her safety. He just didn’t want her to go without him. He didn’t want to be left out of the end of their adventure. He looked down again at the mountain of ledgers—they weren’t going anywhere. But he was.

  David pulled on his coat, donned his hat, and left the office.

  Fourteen

  “MR. RANDALL, FANCY SEEING YOU HERE at the train station on this morning of all mornings,” Lucinda said archly as David walked up to meet her and Mrs. Patton on the platform.

  He yawned. “Shocking, I’m sure, since you are the one who demanded we take the first morning train.”

  “Come now, Mr. Randall,” Lucinda said, tilting her head to one side. “This peevish attitude will not do. You were not even invited.”

  He opened his mouth to retort and then closed it. She laughed. He ignored her.

  David touched his hat to acknowledge Mrs. Patton and then directed a porter to pick up their trunks and his portmanteau. He assisted the ladies into a first-class compartment on the train, then took a seat across the aisle. He tipped his hat over his eyes, crossed his arms on his chest, and pretended to be sleeping, in no mood to make idle conversation with Mrs. Patton.

  “I know you are awake, David,” Lucinda whispered. “Mrs. Patton has finally fallen asleep.”

  She must have moved to his side of the aisle, because she nudged him with her elbow.

  He didn’t respond.

  Then he felt a cold finger trace the clean-shaven line of his jaw from his ear to his chin. He jolted up in surprise, and his hat fell to the floor.

  Lucinda covered her laugh with her ungloved hand. “I knew you were not asleep.”

  David was annoyed that his breathing was irregular and that Lucinda’s touch affected him so much. “How could I sleep with you in the same train compartment?”

  “You know I really did not need an escort to Reading,” Lucinda said quietly, the teasing smile still lingering on her lips. “I am sure I could have handled myself quite well against any pickpockets or highwaymen we might possibly have met.”

  “Then you can protect me,” David whispered as he picked his hat up off the floor and placed it on his head. He slumped back in his seat, his hat covering most of his eyes. But he could still see Lucinda watching him intently. “I know you do not want my protection. I was hoping you’d enjoy my company.”

  “You do not seem to lack female company.”

  Did he detect a tone of jealously in her voice?

  “I do live with my mother,” David said, “and she is an excellent companion.”

  Lucinda’s whole face laughed—her eyes, her cheeks, and her very kissable mouth. He found himself staring at her lips again. She glanced over at Mrs. Patton, who began to stir. Lucinda darted back to her seat on the other side of the compartment. Mrs. Patton blinked and yawned just as Lucinda settled down in her seat.

  “What were we talking of again?” Mrs. Patton asked.

  “Mr. Randall was speaking of his mother,” Lucinda said, and winked at him.

  David kept his hat tipped down and rested his head for the remainder of the train ride to Reading. He didn’t sleep, but unfortunately neither did Mrs. Patton, so there was no opportunity for conversation with Lucinda without Mrs. Patton’s unwanted interjections.

  The conductor walked through the aisles between the compartments saying, “Next stop, Reading, ladies and gentlemen! Next stop, Reading!”

  David sat up and straightened his hat. Lucinda raised her eyebrows and then gave him one of her light-filled smiles. He returned it.

  David assisted both ladies off the train and arranged for their luggage to be brought to a hired carriage. He instructed the driver to take them to the best hotel in the city. The carriage wove through the cobblestone streets and row after row of redbrick buildings, eventually pulling up to a decent-looking hotel on the end of King’s Street overlooking the River Kennet. The ladies waited in the carriage while he arranged for three rooms and luncheon.

  He returned to the carriage and assisted Mrs. Patton out, then Lucinda. Lucinda’s hands were gloved, but he could feel her warmth through them, and he experienced a sudden rush of heat to his body. She brushed her shoulder against his chest and then raised her eyebrows for the second time, as if to proclaim her innocence.

  “Do excuse me, Mr. Randall,” she said in her mocking voice. “I must have misstepped.”

  He offered his arm and said gravely, “I should be happy to lend you my arm should you need it, Miss Leavitt.”

  David half expected her to refuse his help, but she didn’t. She linked her arm with his and said, “Thank you, Mr. Randall. I am getting on in years.”

  “Ancient,” he agreed. “Nearly nineteen.”

  “Past my last prayer.”

  They followed the proprietor, a Mr. Hart, up the stairs to a small but well-aired private parlor. The proprietor assured them luncheon would be served in half an hour. He then showed them to their rooms. David’s was across the hall from the ladies’ rooms. Lucinda relinquished her hold on his arm and disappeared behind the dark oak door.

  David retired to his chamber to wash up before luncheon. He was happy to remove his hat and shake out his hair. He poured the pitcher of water into the metal basin provided and splashed his face, then ran his wet fingers through his hair in an attempt to put it in some sort of order. Then, he took out his pocket watch and glanced at the time; he still had a quarter of an hour. He walked over to the window and opened it, allowing a slight breeze to enter the room.

  He sat in a chair by the window and enjoyed the breeze on his face, leaning his head back and covering his eyes with his arm. It was such a relief to be away from London. Away from his office. His life. His late father’s expectations.

  David took his arm away from his eyes and picked up his pocket watch. It was nearly time for luncheon. He stood, shook out the wrinkles in his clothes, and left his room for the private parlor. It did not surprise him to see both ladies already there and waiting. He sat at the table next to Lucinda.

  “I spoke with a chambermaid and she told me that Burntwood Folly is not more than two miles east of here,” Lucinda said brightly. “We should be able to visit the house and return before dinner.”

  “I should not like to miss dinner,” Mrs. Patton said.

  David believed her.

  Mr. Hart opened the door for several servants carrying cold meats, breads, cheese, and drinks. David was happy to see that his beverage was ale and not milk, like for the ladies. He needed a little stimulant to help him through the afternoon. David watched as Mrs. Patton ate an alarming amount of ham and cold beef, g
enerous helpings of bread slathered with butter, and several pieces of cheese. He could not understand how such a narrow woman managed to consume so much.

  Mr. Hart reentered the room. “Is everything to your satisfaction, Mr. Randall?”

  “Perfectly, sir.”

  “I’ve heard from Bessie that you are planning on visiting Burntwood Folly,” Mr. Hart said. “Would you like for me to arrange a carriage for you?”

  “That would be most convenient, sir, thank you,” David said.

  “Do you know why they call it Burntwood Folly, Mr. Hart?” Lucinda piped up.

  Mr. Hart looked at Lucinda and gave her a lopsided smile. “Old Mr. Burntwood was rather too ambitious with his architecture, miss. He built half of a grand building and then ran out of funds. And so it sits, half-finished. He tried to call it Burntwood Manor, but folks ’round here referred to it as Burntwood Folly, and it stuck.”

  The party left a quarter of an hour later. The drive was pleasant, and the first view of the house was rather shocking. It was a large square manor with four tall stone walls, except half of the holes did not possess windows; they were just a shell. It made the other half, although of newer construction, appear to be older. And if David were of a fanciful mind, he would say the entire house looked haunted. Green vines grew up over the stone in the unfinished part of the building.

  “Folly, indeed,” Lucinda said. “What a perfect setting for a Gothic romance.”

  “I am sure there is at least one ghost,” David said. “Possibly two.”

  “Two,” Lucinda agreed. “You wouldn’t want the first ghost to be lonely. There is clearly some nefarious supernatural energy at work, and we have been lured here under false pretenses. Our bodies won’t be found for a fortnight or so, and then in the darkest part of these woods. Possibly mangled beyond recognition.”

  “Lucinda, I do not understand half of what you are saying,” Mrs. Patton complained.