by Jane Charles
“How close are you to beating him?” Pickmore asked.
“By my estimate, we are almost two hours ahead, and he only carried one passenger.”
His friends began to smile.
“Is there a wager involved?” Ashford asked.
“Aye,” the driver admitted after a moment. “It’s only fifty pounds. Not much to the likes of you, but a fortune to me.”
“When was this wager made,” Keegan asked.
“Some five years back.”
“Well then, we can’t let the man lose his wager.” Pickmore patted Henry on the back.
“Here! Here!” Keegan and Ashford called.
“A wager is a wager,” Henry grinned. “You find the fastest horses you can and we’ll step in only long enough for sustenance to take with us.”
“We’ll even sign affidavits for how long the journey took,” Ashford assured him.
“Thank you, gentleman. I’ll get you to your destination and for once I’ll be able to shut my older brother down.”
A wager was a wager, something Henry well understood, so he hurried to collect the foodstuffs and ale and returned to the carriage as the fresh horses were being tethered. Henry wasn’t going to stand in the way of not only Jamie winning, but besting his older brother was --something Henry had never accomplished.
“What was your brother’s destination?” Ashford asked Jamie before they climbed back in the carriage.
“Kirksbury.” Jamie grinned. “You’ll go beyond that of course, but it’s Kirksbury that we need to make in time.”
“How far away?” Keegan asked.
At that, Jamie’s grin widened. “Twenty miles.”
“Then, what’s keeping you?” Pickmore laughed. “Get up on your perch and get the job done and wager won!” Ashford laughed.
“I appreciate your assistance Gentleman. But I need to ask, why are you being so understanding?”
At that they all laughed.
“We all have or had an older brother,” Henry answered. “Your winning is for all of us.”
As they didn’t want to waste a moment or be the cause of Jamie losing his wager, Henry and his friends climbed into the carriage, settled in and toasted with ale as the horses pulled the carriage back onto the road.
“I now understand the rush,” Ashford said. “It wasn’t just you but Jamie seems to be on his own mission, as well.”
“To Jamie.” Pickmore raised a flask. “May he beat his brother for all of us.”
“Here! Here!” they cheered then turned to watch the scenery flash by as the horses traveled at breakneck speed toward their destination. As they slowed to travel through Kirskury, the four of them cheered since it wasn’t possible that Jamie had lost time and had definitely beaten his brother.
As soon as they cleared the town, Jamie picked up speed again, and it was Ashford and Keegan who sat forward, suddenly worried.
“What is it?” Henry demanded.
“The curve,” Ashford yelled.
“We didn’t warn him of the tight…”
The words were lost as the wheels slid on the road. The carriage jerked and then tumbled over and over down an embankment.
Eve tilted her head back and inhaled deeply through her nose. The sea. Home. “You’re lucky to live so close to the water.”
“Aye,” Cait agreed.
Together they walked across the sand until they came to a boulder and settled upon it. “The seals enjoy sunning themselves here.”
Eve smiled. She had loved the seals as a child, as well as the dolphins and watching for whales.
“What am I going to do?” Eve finally asked. “You have a position, but I don’t know where to begin to find one for myself.”
“I’ve a question.” Cait studied her. “When we were girls in Ireland, you refused to alter your speech as our governess tried to teach us.”
“That’s because Father hoped that once presented we’d find English lords for husbands,” Eve reminded her. “I had no intention of leaving Ireland, or finding an English husband.”
“I remember. You weren’t going to change who you were.” Cait laughed. “Yet, here you are, months after seeing one another, dressed as a lady and your speech just as refined. Is it because of the theatre?”
Eve nearly snorted. “No. My guardian.”
She’d told Cait about how she and Brendan had lived in Covent Garden, her work in the theatre, everything about their lives in detail until Kilsyth had become her guardian. What she hadn’t told her sister was anything about Kilsyth.
“He wanted to change you?” Cait asked.
Unwanted, her eyes filled and Eve quickly looked away. It was a windy day so perhaps her sister wouldn’t wonder at her tears.
“What is it Eve?” her sister asked gently.
A moment later, Eve found herself telling Cait everything, from the first time she met Kilsyth, their arguments, the wager, Ascot, the ball, his treatment of her, as well as the kindness of Pickmore and Lady Kilsyth and the servants in Kilsyth’s household.
“You fell in love with him,” Cait finally observed.
“Aye,” Eve finally admitted. “But how could I have these feelings for a gentleman who is cold and dictatorial, especially when it’s obvious he feels nothing for me.”
“Because you saw past the surface and into his heart.”
Eve believed the same but Cait was the only person in whom Eve could confide.
“Father was the same, remember?”
Eve smiled.
“He was brilliant and didn’t suffer fools, bellowed and spoke plainly, even if the words could be hurtful.”
“Aye, he was.”
“But he was also kind and loving to those he cared about.”
“He wore a mask for others.”
“I’m not so certain. I think the only reason we knew his heart was because we lived with him. Others saw him as impatient when we recognized his drive for success. But, no matter how dictatorial or autocratic, I never doubted that he loved me and would do anything to protect his family and see us happy.”
Just as Eve didn’t doubt that Kilsyth cared deeply for his mother. His tone with her was no different than with anyone else, yet, there was a softening in his eyes when in her presence and he lingered near her person, as if he needed to protect her when Lady Kilsyth appeared perfectly capable of caring for herself.
“I think you fell in love with him because he saw beneath your hard exterior,” Cait said again.
“He gave me no consideration and behaved as if everything that I had accomplished was because of the work he and Pickmore had done. As if I was nothing more than…oh…a pet trained to do a trick.”
“That’s always been your way, Eve. You always rebelled when others were given credit for your accomplishments.”
“I don’t like being dismissed on account that I’m a woman. It happened in Ireland and the same is no different in England.”
“And the very reason you rejected out governess’ instructions. You weren’t going to change anything about yourself.”
“If I wasn’t accepted for who I was, then I didn’t want their attention,” Eve reflected.
“Yet, you changed for Kilsyth. I barely note home in your tone or speech.”
“It wasn’t for Kilsyth,” Eve admitted. “There was the wager, of course, but I realized how short-sighted I had been. I was no longer on the stud-farm where it didn’t matter how I spoke. I now needed to make my way in England and nobody would hire me for anything beyond being a seamstress if I didn’t improve what others saw as ignorance and ill-breeding.”
“And in the process of changing yourself, you fell in love.”
“My speech changed, but I didn’t. My thoughts and feelings are still the same. I couldn’t see that as a younger girl.”
“And love?”
“Aye. I fell in love, for all that it matters. I served my purpose and I’m certain that Kilsyth is glad to be done with his ward.”
And that is
what hurt the most. She’d lost her brother and left the gentleman who had stolen her heart and now she needed to find a way to continue on with her life, and find a way to support herself. Even though she would receive her dowry in two years, it would be set aside for her future. In the meantime, she needed to find a position so that she could support herself. Eve prayed that one could be found in Cornwall so that she wouldn’t need to be separated from her sister again.
Chapter 20
“How is your story coming along?” Sophia asked as they walked along the lane.
“I’d rather be doing that than walking.”
“What are you writing?” Victoria Westbrook asked.
Mrs. Wiggons had sent the girls from the school to get some fresh air because of late, when not in class, they were either sitting and reading or in Eliza’s case, writing. There was a time I couldn’t keep the three of you in the school and was always searching for you as you got up to mischief. Now you don’t leave, she’d grumbled and sent them outside.
“A horrid novel,” Rosemary answered for her friend. “It’s going to be better than anything we’ve ever read before, or at least as good as anything published by Mrs. Radcliffe.”
Sophia raised an eyebrow and hoped that her friend hadn’t set an impossible task for herself. Writing a horrid novel was a wonderful aspiration, but writing one as good as Mrs. Radcliffe was an entirely different ambition.
“That sounds very exciting,” Olivia, who was also Victoria’s twin, exclaimed.
“A mummy and its curse.” Eliza grinned. “Which is why we must hurry so that I can return to my story.” She stopped for a moment and turned around.
“What are you doing?” Sophia asked.
“Looking to see if we are being followed.”
Sophia looked behind them as well but couldn’t see anyone.
“Who would be following?” Olivia asked.
“The new students.” Eliza rolled her eyes. “They always want to know what we are up to.”
“It didn’t help that you regaled them with stories of vampires, ghosts and witches,” Rosemary reminded her.
Sophia had to giggle, even though it wasn’t kind of her. But the three newest students, barely thirteen, had arrived just a few days ago. When they heard the gossip of Sophia, Rosemary and Eliza’s past, they came to inquire. Eliza happily told them the stories but wouldn’t confess whether the vampires, ghosts and witches were real, just that the girls needed to be careful. Sophia was fairly certain the newest arrivals hadn’t slept very well that night.
Really, it wasn’t well-done of Eliza but it did prove that she should be writing horror novels.
“If you are talking about Ruth, Abigail and Mary, I believe they are meeting with Miss Hamilton to get caught up on what they’d missed.
It was odd that the three had shown up at the end of the year when new students usually arrived in the fall.
“Is your brother expecting visitors?” Rosemary asked as two carriages, followed by a large wagon, turned up the drive of Harrington Manor.
“He hadn’t mentioned it to me,” Olivia answered and she turned to her sister for confirmation. Victoria simply shrugged.
Despite her complaints that she wanted to return to her story, Eliza started in the direction of Harrington Manor, the others following out of curiosity. However, they remained at a distance as Lord Norbright was quite clear that he didn’t want the students on his property, with the exception of his younger sisters, of course.
“Who do you think it is?” Rosemary asked.
Oliva shrugged.
“Maybe it’s the woman Lady Norbright was having tea with yesterday,” Eliza offered.
“What lady?” Victoria asked.
“I’ve never seen her before,” Sophia answered. “But they were taking tea together in the village and the woman looked as if she’d been crying.
Victoria frowned. “I wonder if she has anything to do with why Miss Doyle left yesterday and didn’t return until this morning, only to change her clothing and leave again.”
Eliza pinned Victoria with a look. “Miss Doyle was gone all night?”
She nodded.
“Does Mrs. Wiggons know?” Sophia asked.
“I assume…”
“Perhaps we should investigate,” Rosemary suggested. “Find out where Miss Doyle went and what she’s been up to. Maybe it’s even scandalous,” She grinned.
Sophia glanced at Eliza and held her breath.
“I would, but I don’t have time any longer,” Eliza replied. “Not if I’m going to finish my story.”
Sophia blew out a sigh of relief. She didn’t know if Eliza would continue to write beyond a week, but it was a welcome reprieve that her friend didn’t want to go snooping around in the life of their teacher.
However, even though they weren’t going to investigate their teacher, the new arrivals at Harrington Manor still held their attention and the girls inched forward, staying close to the bushes so that they could spy. The first to exit was a gentleman that Sophia had never seen before. His arm was wrapped in a bandage and another was around his head.
“I wonder how Lord Kilsyth was injured,” Olivia said.
“Kilsyth?” Rosemary questioned.
“A friend of my brother. He lives in Mayfair.”
The next person to exit was Mr. Keegan, who had visited last winter. A servant rushed around and handed him a crutch before he slowly lowered himself to the ground.
“Maybe they had an accident.”
Both gentlemen were helped into the manor when the second carriage pulled further up the drive. This time four footmen came out and assisted another gentleman, who was unable to walk on his own. His head was bandaged and he was practically carried into the manor.
“Who is that?” Olivia asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before,” Victoria answered.
Finally, the wagon pulled up and more servants came forward, but what Sophia saw next chilled her to the bone.
“Is that a coffin?” Rosemary cried.
“It would appear so,” Eliza offered with little enthusiasm.
Had her friend changed so quickly? Instead of being intrigued and getting into mischief, Eliza appeared almost bored with the idea of a coffin being taken into Harrington Manor.
“We need to find out what happened,” Victoria pulled on her sister’s hand.
Eliza tilted her head and studied the gathering. “I suppose we should.”
“I do hope that you haven’t lost someone dear to you,” Rosemary said to the twins.
Oliva frowned. “The only living family we have is Gabriel so I can’t imagine why a coffin was brought to his home.”
“Perhaps someone died within,” Rosemary suggested.
The girls shared a look then glanced back at their friends.
“I’m certain we would have been alerted,” Victoria finally answered. “But I still wish to learn who it is.”
Henry hurt from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, but at least he could walk about. Keegan was barely mobile, as he could only put weight on his left leg due to the right one being injured in the accident. Then there was Pickmore with possible bruised or broken ribs. Thankfully he had been given laudanum before they’d left the physician. The worst off was Ashford, who now lay in the pine box.
This was all of his fault. He’d been the one who had pushed to get to Kirksbury from the very beginning. When his driver had a chance to beat his brother’s record, they’d all encouraged him to drive faster. But even as they reached Kirksbury and Jamie had won, he had continued to race once they left the village behind. That’s when the carriage had rolled, not that Henry remembered much after that, only coming to with Jamie and his son standing over him. They’d managed to jump free of the carriage before they were crushed by it.
Jamie’s son had run back to Kirksbury for help while Jamie offered what assistance he could, and continued to apologize for his recklessness. It wasn’t his fault
. Henry had urged the speed and now he and his friends were paying for that impatience.
“What the blazes happened, Kilsyth?” Norbright demanded as he came down the stairs.
He quickly explained. “I hope you can put us up until we recover.”
“Of course.”
“I’m not resting until I’ve had a brandy,” Keegan complained. “Then I’ll attempt those stairs.” He glared at them.
Henry could well understand, as Keegan wouldn’t be able to get up and down without assistance.
The footmen carried Pickmore in. Though Henry could tell that the servants were trying to be careful, Pickmore still moaned.
“The first empty room you find,” Norbright ordered.
Then, the coffin came in and Norbright paled. “Who?”
“Ashford,” Henry shook his head.
“Good God. Has his family been informed?”
“No.”
“They must be told. What of arrangements?”
Henry frowned at him
“Put him in the dining room for now, I suppose.”
“Dining room?” Keegan asked.
“Yes, isn’t that usually where a person is laid out? Or perhaps a sitting room, upon a table or something.”
That’s when Henry realized his error. “Ashford isn’t dead.”
“Then why the blazes is he in a coffin?”
“Because of his injuries,” Keegan answered. “The doctor didn’t wish for him to be jostled too much so he decided that Ashford would be safer in a pine box and in the back of a wagon for his journey to Harrington Manor.”
Norbright marched toward the coffin and peered inside. “He looks more like a mummy than a man.”
Henry joined him, noting the bandages around Ashford’s head, neck and shoulders. The only openings were beneath his nose, mouth and around his bruised and blackened eyes. “He has a number of cuts, scrapes and bruises. The doctor said it was easier to bandage all of him than trying not to bandage what was not injured.”
“Are these his only injuries?” Norbright asked.
“I believe so,” Henry answered. “The doctor noted bruises on other parts of his body, but doesn’t believe anything is broken.”
