In the Shadow of Croft Towers

by Abigail Wilson

  “I see you found Anne.”

  My breath caught and I spun to the door. Thank goodness it was only Miss Ellis, for I would have had a hard time explaining myself to anyone else.

  She strolled over, stopping on the rug, and angled her chin. “Do you find Anne as lovely as everyone says she is?”

  My voice escaped me, but I managed to whisper, “Yes.”

  “Yet Aunt Chalcroft keeps her hidden beneath those drapes.”

  I wondered why. “Can you tell me about her?”

  “Anne was my late cousin—Lady Stanton. I didn’t know her. She died several years before I was born. As a child I would sneak in here and stare at her likeness. What do you think of that horrid expression on her face? I always thought she wanted to tell me something, maybe about her death.”

  “She does look quite unpleasant. You would think Mrs. Chalcroft would have another painting of her daughter to remember her by.”

  “This is the only one I’ve ever seen. It matches the one of our ghost up in the tower room. You remember—her husband, Lord Stanton. I’m told they had them painted together a few months after they were married and sent the pair as a gift to Mrs. Chalcroft for Christmas. I don’t wonder at the earl being so uncomfortable in his painting with a wife like that.”

  I could only imagine what Mrs. Chalcroft must have thought when she received such a likeness of her daughter. I suppose the artist could have made a mistake. But something in Anne’s eyes told me he knew what he was doing. I touched the corner of the frame. “Miss Ellis?”

  Her answer came several seconds later. “Yes?” It seemed we were both entranced by what we saw before us.

  “How did she die?”

  “No one speaks of it. There are few servants still around from that time. All I know is that she ran off one night into a terrible storm. She later died of pneumonia. Mrs. Chalcroft had her buried alone on the eastern slope on the way to Reedwick.”

  Not at the church? “How sad . . .” I wanted to know more, to understand the feeling of gloom that permeated the walls of the Towers, but Miss Ellis had already lost interest, humming to herself as she straightened the coverlet on the bed.

  I looked back at the painting. Lord Stanton again. His presence crawled all over the house, all over the town. Why would he write to me? I was sure Mrs. Chalcroft could apprise me of all the details of his marriage to her daughter, but I could never ask. I pulled the drapes back over Anne, hiding her sadness behind a soft sea of darkness. “Do you know where Mrs. Chalcroft is at present? She asked me to see her directly when I returned from town.”

  “The sun came out, so she’s sitting by the large window in the chapel.” Miss Ellis shrugged her shoulders, then flitted to the doorway, but paused. “You haven’t noticed if Hodge brought the mail?”

  I shook my head.

  She frowned. “Oh, and I wouldn’t mention anything about Anne to my aunt. It might, well . . . set her off.”

  9

  I didn’t find Mrs. Chalcroft in the chapel, as Miss Ellis had indicated, but in the sitting room on the first floor accompanied by the other members of the family. A lovely melody drifted from the room. I wasn’t sure if she wished me to enter, so I lurked in the doorway like a mouse waiting for a bread crumb.

  It was Mr. Cantrell who saw me first and motioned me inside. Miss Cantrell sat on the edge of the sofa opposite Mr. Roth, her gaze fixed on the pianoforte and Mr. Sinclair, who had his nose buried in some sheet music. He didn’t look up as I crossed the room, nor did his composition falter.

  I went straight to where Mrs. Chalcroft lay across the length of the settee near the fire, a heavy blanket hiding her thin frame. She smiled when she saw me and I thought I saw a bit of Anne in her eyes. She took my hand and pulled me down beside her. “Here you are, my dear girl. Was your trip to town prosperous?”

  Though I doubted I could be heard over the pianoforte, I decided not to deliver the milliner’s instructions in the crowded room. Instead, I let out a steady breath. “I gave her your letter; however, she did seem a bit put off. Of course, she assures me it will be completed as you wished.”

  The arthritic fingers once quiet on the blanket curled up into a stiff ball. “She said nothing else?”

  I cast a quick glance around the room. Miss Cantrell must have grown tired of sitting and circled about us, seemingly lost in her own world. The music held Mr. Sinclair in a sort of trance, but Mr. Cantrell surprised me as he’d crossed the room to my side when I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t sure how much to say in company. “The milliner did have a message for you, but it’s not important now. You seem tired. Is it not time for your afternoon nap?”

  “Quite right, my gel. I’ll have you read to me to put me to sleep. If Lucius would be so kind as to—”

  Miss Ellis rushed into the room with a squeal, a paper flapping in her hand. “Elizabeth! It is just as we’d hoped. They’re to have a country dance at the inn in Plattsdale.”

  In an instant, Miss Cantrell was at Miss Ellis’s side and tore the paper from her hand. “In only a month.” The closest thing to a smile I’d ever seen on Miss Cantrell’s face rounded out her pale cheeks. “It is delightful. Surely most everyone in the area will be in attendance.” She touched her forehead. “Lucius, I must have a gown made up at once.”

  Miss Ellis seconded the request and the room came alive. Mr. Cantrell denied the need for anyone to have a new gown, Mr. Roth asserted that a dance would be a welcome break from our tedious company, Miss Ellis declared herself ready to be the toast of the ball, and Miss Cantrell listed everyone present in the district who might be in attendance. They all seemed thrilled. All except me, of course, and curiously Mr. Sinclair, who looked at the display as if he thought it a bore.

  Mr. Cantrell called out across the room. “We will need two carriages if we are all to go.”

  Mrs. Chalcroft leaned forward and patted my arm. “This will be just the thing for you, my dear.”

  I turned to face her. She couldn’t be serious. I could feel the blood draining from my head. I blinked a few times then searched her face. Had she just said what I thought she had? The companion? To attend the family to an assembly?

  Mrs. Chalcroft gave me a wry smile. “It will do you good to get out of the house.”

  Out of the house? I’d only just arrived. “Please, Mrs. Chalcroft. I would rather stay here with you—to keep you company and watch over you while the family is away.”

  “Fiddlesticks. I wish I could go myself, but I can’t. You will be my eyes and ears, child. I will expect to know everything. It’s part of your position, you see.”

  My voice faltered. “I-I beg of you not to ask me to do this. Certainly Miss Ellis could—”

  Mrs. Chalcroft clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Don’t be absurd. I understand your qualms, but I don’t care a fig for such things.” She motioned me closer. “I will have a small package that needs to be delivered to a gentleman I know will be there. I was at a loss as to how I should get it to him. This is the perfect opportunity.”

  My eyes grew wide. “But, Mrs. Chalcroft, I-I’ve never . . . danced.”

  She pulled back. “That’s silly. Didn’t they teach you anything in that school of yours?”

  “Well, they did, only I haven’t practiced in a long time and never in company.”

  “Curtis,” Mrs. Chalcroft called out across the room. “Come here at once.”

  Only a woman of her age and status could get away with such behavior, and without fail, he plodded over to the settee, resting his arm on the fireplace mantel.

  He too had changed clothes since our outing to town, and I had to admit, the sleek, dark-green coat became him. He grasped the iron poker from beside the fender and jabbed it into a log. Sparks burst like fireworks in the grate, then he turned to face the both of us. “I’m at your service, of course. What is it you would have me do now?”

  He added a tight smile, but the barb hit home. We both knew he would be required to do Mrs. Chal
croft’s bidding, whatever it was—for the money, for his sisters—for me. My stomach clenched.

  “Miss Delafield tells me she hasn’t danced in some time and may need a refresher course if she is not to embarrass us at the assembly.”

  Oh dear. I wanted to sink into the floor.

  He coughed out a laugh. “Whatever made you think of me to play dancing master?”

  She poked him with her cane. “You’ve two strong arms, and I’ve yet to see you step on a girl’s foot. Why not, pray tell?”

  “Because you know very well how I detest it.”

  My head felt dizzy. Must I endure such embarrassment? He obviously loathed dancing, and helping me was likely second on the list. “Perhaps this is not such a good idea. I . . .”

  Both Mr. Sinclair and Mrs. Chalcroft turned to face me as if they were surprised I had an opinion on the subject. Mrs. Chalcroft held up her hand to stave off any more from me. “You may be right, my dear. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, glad she could be made to see reason.

  “Lucius will do much better.”

  I kept quiet all through supper, intending to return to my room when the gentlemen took their port. But Miss Ellis grasped my arm first thing, leading me back into that dreadful drawing room, chattering all the way.

  “Well, you’ve been in here before, but you haven’t told me what you think of the room. I call it sale blanche, the White Room. Isn’t it awful? Not a stitch of color. If I were to own this house it would look quite different, I assure you.” She pursed her lips. “It’s horrid if you ask me.”

  Miss Cantrell clicked her tongue and pushed by me. “Hush. Mrs. Chalcroft isn’t far behind us. You’ll only make her cross.”

  Supported by Dawkins, my employer staggered into the drawing room, looking tired, but keen as ever.

  Miss Cantrell motioned her forward. “Aunt, allow me to help you to a seat near the fire.” She took Mrs. Chalcroft’s free arm, casting an irritated glance at me. “And you. The screen now, if you please.”

  “Nonsense, girl. I can find my own way. Do not put yourself out.” Mrs. Chalcroft freed herself of Miss Cantrell’s grasp and edged down onto a nearby chair. “This will do well enough. All this fuss. ’Pon my word, I don’t have the stomach for it tonight.” She tapped her cane on the floor. “And as for you, Dawkins. That will be all for now. I have Miss Delafield here should I decide I need anything.”

  The room seemed to take in a collective breath, but I might have imagined such a thing.

  Dawkins paused for a moment then retreated without a word, but I felt the chill of her gaze as she passed by me. Nervous, I slipped into a small chair at the back of the room. The perfect spot for a companion—out of the way and, most importantly, out of the conversation.

  The other two ladies inched over to the brocade sofa at Mrs. Chalcroft’s side, where Miss Ellis took no time before flicking open a magazine, her fingers shuffling through the pages as if she’d seen the pictures a hundred times, while Miss Cantrell stabbed at her needlepoint.

  The draft from the nearby window fought its way into the room, and I pulled my shawl tight across my shoulders. Outside, a turbulent night wind tossed a tree branch against the windowpane. A plump orange cat tiptoed across the low interior sill and came to rest at my feet. I reached to pet his head just as Miss Cantrell broke the silence. “I do wish Mr. Sinclair would return. I—”

  Mrs. Chalcroft glanced up. “Return?”

  “He left quite mysteriously after supper and told us nothing of his plans. Didn’t he, Miss Ellis?”

  “Yes. It is as if he means to vex us on purpose. Here one minute, gone the next.”

  Mrs. Chalcroft laughed. “Serves you right. The both of you. Curtis’s whereabouts are none of your concern.”

  I lifted an eyebrow, taking one more furtive glance at the empty lawn.

  Miss Ellis pushed her magazine aside. “I suppose he went back into Reedwick. I heard Parson Blakely plans to do some work on the church. He spends a good deal of time with the man, doing all kinds of odd jobs, whatever is asked of him.”

  Mrs. Chalcroft wrinkled her nose. “Humph. Well, I hope you are wrong. He’s done enough for that ungrateful man. It’s been less than a fortnight since he started all those tongues wagging the last time. Probably another wretched wall. You remember the one he built when none of the village people showed up to help. Ridiculous to hear he’d been out there working with his jacket off, building what apparently none of them wanted or needed. Mark my words. They’ll use him till he’s spent.”

  Mr. Sinclair—helping the villagers? It didn’t fit my ever-changing impression of the man, but perhaps there was more to Mr. Sinclair than I had thought.

  Unfortunately, Miss Cantrell had been watching me and my face must have betrayed my surprise. “And what do you think of our Mr. Sinclair, Miss Delafield?”

  “Well . . .” I paused. “Wherever he is, I hope he is inside, for it looks to be raining buckets again.”

  Miss Ellis stood and crossed the room, flinging the drapes wide. “Oh dear, you are right.” Water droplets littered the window. “And quite breezy. Do you think it a storm?”

  Mrs. Chalcroft roused herself from the verge of sleep and called out across the room, “Quiet. Be still.”

  We all froze before slowly turning to face her.

  “There . . . there it is again.” Her eyes grew wide and her hand crept to her mouth. “A baby’s cry.”

  Miss Cantrell rose to her feet, mumbling beneath her breath. “What did you say, Aunt?” She smiled but shot Miss Ellis a worried look.

  Mrs. Chalcroft raised her voice. “A baby. Screaming. Get Dawkins at once to attend to the child.”

  A cold feeling crept across my shoulders, and I slid the book I’d been pretending to read onto a side table, speaking more to Miss Ellis than anyone else. “I don’t hear anything.”

  Miss Ellis raised her voice. “It’s the storm, Aunt Chalcroft. As we’ve told you time and again, there’s not a baby at the Towers.”

  “Don’t lie to me, you unnatural child.” Mrs. Chalcroft’s hands, now desperate, jerked frantically from her ears to her hair, gripping and pulling. “Dawkins. Dawkins. Where is the baby?” She tried to stand but couldn’t, nearly falling off the chair.

  Miss Ellis headed for the door. “I’ll get Lucius. She must have her medicine at once.”

  Miss Cantrell bit her lip. “But Mr. Sinclair said—”

  “He’s not here. He’s never here when this happens.”

  “Perhaps it won’t be as bad as last time.”

  At those words, Mrs. Chalcroft began rocking and babbling, her words incoherent. Miss Ellis raced out the door.

  I edged across the rug but stopped cold at Miss Cantrell’s piercing glare. “Can you not do something? Is this not why you were employed here?”

  I took a quick breath. “What do you mean?”

  “What else did my aunt want a companion for than to calm her down before she gets hysterical?” Miss Cantrell shook her hands in the air, backing away from the sofa. “My nerves can’t handle the screaming. Last time it went on for hours and hours.”

  I turned to the sofa, my stomach in knots. I hadn’t the least idea what to do, what to say. How did one calm such a person? My voice came out in a whisper. “Smelling salts?”

  “They only make her angry.”

  Mrs. Chalcroft took no notice of me as I knelt at her side. That is, until I spoke. “Mrs. Chalcroft?”

  A light sparked in her eyes and she almost smiled, her finger tracing the edge of my bracelet. “Anne.”

  I took her hand. “No. It’s me, Miss Delafield. Your new companion. I believe it is time for you to return to bed.”

  She took a long, hard look at my face and sucked in a deep breath, answering my kindness with a terrible scream.

  I pulled back, my ears ringing, sure I’d made things far worse. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  “Miss Delafield. Allow me.�
�

  It was Mr. Cantrell. His calm strength was just what I needed, and I melted into his arm as he led me over to a chair.

  The next few moments passed in a blur as I learned why Mr. Sinclair did not like Mrs. Chalcroft to be given laudanum.

  Mr. Cantrell was forced to hold her down while Mr. Roth wrenched open her mouth and Hodge assisted, pouring the medicine in between choked screams and vicious biting. Then the waiting began. I wondered how long it would be before the medicine took effect.

  Twenty minutes passed by the time the screaming subsided, and I was the only one left in the room besides Mr. Cantrell. He lifted Mrs. Chalcroft’s frail body into his arms, then paused a moment before leaving the room. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Miss Delafield, but I daresay it won’t be the last time.”

  He crossed the hallway and mounted the stairs until he was lost to view. Like a curtain had fallen, drowning out my hopes for the future, the room suddenly felt cold and empty. Rain beat at the window. Silence thrummed in my ears. I lowered my face into my hands. Why had I come here? How could I possibly hope to help?

  10

  It was the following day before I was able to deliver the message I’d received from the milliner. I felt a bit foolish having allowed time to slip by, but what else could I have done? There had been all those people in the drawing room, then the storm and Mrs. Chalcroft’s . . . episode. Surely she would understand my silence.

  I stood before my formidable employer in the middle of her bedchamber rug, a cold feeling at my core. Staring into the dim poster bed, it didn’t take long to realize Mrs. Chalcroft had not fared well over the night. The incident in the drawing room had chiseled grooves down her face and, if possible, racked her slender frame more than I’d expected. She lay buried under her covers like a fragile piece of china, gaunt and weak. Those green eyes, however, were as keen as ever. “Speak up, child, or allow an old woman her time to rest.”