The Mistress of Trevelyan

by Jennifer St Giles

  No one seemed to notice that she’d wished me dead with one look. Benedict Trevelyan introduced me to her. She inclined her head my way, but didn’t speak. Stephen Trevelyan, a drink in his hand, stood at one end of an ornate mahogany dining table; its curved legs ended in claws that reminded me of the demons and beasts on the manor’s front door. The chairs, fashioned with ivy leaves etched in the dark wood, were padded and looked immensely expensive, as did the crystal chandelier centered above us. I marveled at the gas lighting. I had heard of this luxury, but had yet to see it for myself.

  “Is Katherine not coming?” Benedict Trevelyan asked.

  Miss Ortega threw her hands up, then used them to accent her every word. “She is in one of her impossible moods again. We were absorbed in a fashion article from Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper. Did you realize, Benedict, that the elite in New York do not wear the same dress twice? When it comes to fashion, we are so appallingly behind here. They recommend a lady travel with no less than sixty dresses. I must order three Swiss muslin evening robes before the weather turns chilly. The climate here is so much cooler than the weather at our hacienda, no? It will be the death of me. But, madre de Dios, when Katherine learned Stephen had arrived, she—” Biting her lip, Miss Ortega sent Stephen Trevelyan an apologetic look. “I think your return has upset her.”

  Sixty dresses! My mind could hardly fathom such an extravagance. Bouncing my gaze to Stephen Trevelyan, I saw an expression of deep pain sweep over his face before he hid it by taking a hefty sip of his drink.

  “I will speak to her,” Benedict Trevelyan said with almost a sigh, as if the burdens he carried weighed heavily on him.

  “I will handle it,” Stephen Trevelyan replied, his voice strained.

  “Then I take it you are planning to stay sober?” Benedict Trevelyan said, his tone harsh.

  Stephen Trevelyan fisted his hands and placed them on the table, his handsome face darkened with anger. For a moment, I thought he’d leap over the table at his brother. “God forbid. I had forgotten how perfect you are.”

  “That’s enough,” Mrs. Trevelyan commanded, then picked up the bell resting on the table before her and rang it.“I will have civility at my meals.”

  Dinner proceeded with an edge of tense politeness between Benedict Trevelyan and his brother. Their mother remained mostly silent unless she spoke to criticize something. Toward the end of the dinner, she excused herself, citing illness. Her departure surprised me a little, since she’d said several times how glad she was that Stephen had returned home.

  The moment Mrs. Trevelyan left, Miss Ortega caught Benedict Trevelyan’s attention by waving her hand. “I saw the Commodore anchored in the bay while I was out shopping today. What cargo did she bring?”

  “The last shipment of sugar I will be transporting. I am selling her.” Benedict Trevelyan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, clearly stating ahead of time that his decision was final. I was surprised he felt the need to make that statement to fashion-minded Miss Ortega.

  I thought Miss Ortega paled beneath the brightness of the gas lighting.“But you cannot—”

  “Constance, dear, we’ve been over this a hundred times. You do not need to worry about this. The railroad has changed the shipping industry. There are more profitable business ventures closer to home than having the expense and uncertainty of transporting goods across the oceans.”

  “What is there besides the railroads?” Stephen Trevelyan asked. “Which, if you ask me, are overflowing with crooks.”

  “Steamboats,” Benedict answered. “Alan Henderson is selling me his stocks. The company has a monopoly on bay transportation. In return, I am introducing him to several buyers for his cattle in Sacramento. He will be here next week.”

  “Good. Maybe I can get back the hundred dollars he fleeced from me the last time I saw him. I swear the man cheats at cards, but I have not caught him yet,”Stephen said, shaking his head, wry amusement curving his lips.“If I were you”—he nodded to his brother—“I would investigate this stock he’s offering thoroughly. Alan and Father had a penchant for bad investments.”

  “The California Steam Navigation Company has paid increasing dividends for several years. I expect it will only grow as the Bay Area’s population continues to expand.”

  “Perhaps you will take me to see these steamboats that you speak of soon?” Constance spoke to Benedict Trevelyan who in turn nodded to Stephen Trevelyan.

  “I presently have not the leisure time to do so. Do you think you will remain sober enough to take her, Stephen?”

  Constance interrupted before Stephen Trevelyan unclenched his jaw enough to speak. “Have I mentioned that Swiss muslin robes are all the rage? I will need for you to take me shopping very soon, Stephen. And I must have an authentic paisley scarf. Mrs. Barrow wore one to the governor’s tea and looked absolutely divine.”

  Before Constance finished, she’d added two Saratoga trunks, a white llama jacket, and a ball gown imported from Paris to her list of wants, and all to be done before the next social season.

  My head hurt from her chatter. As soon as dinner was over, I excused myself, citing my need to prepare the boys’ lessons for the next day. After being exposed to Miss Ortega, Mrs. Trevelyan, and Nurse Maria, I thought it a miracle that Benedict Trevelyan had hired me at all. Had his wife been anything like Miss Ortega? A woman pampered and catered to? But then, with women so daintily beautiful, what else was a man to do?

  It was a good thing that I had such a strong constitution.

  Walking back to my room, my mind slowly eased from thoughts of the evening and once again I felt as if I was being watched. The dimly lit hallway seemed longer and the shadows more sinister. Darkness had fallen, and the window at the end of the corridor reflected a shadowy image of myself as I drew closer to my room.

  I had never been given to flights of fancy, and I despised myself now for the shiver inching its way down my spine. I closed my eyes to give myself a thorough dressing-down.

  Just because I’d managed to change my station in life didn’t mean I should lose hold of my practicality. Both my awareness of Benedict Trevelyan as a man and these silly notions that I was being watched had to stop. Thus chastised, I opened my eyes and nearly fell on my face as I missed a step. Behind me, reflected in the window, stood a black-haired woman in a white gown. Crying out, I swung around and thought I saw the fleeing edge of a gown move from sight around the corner. I grabbed up my skirts and dashed toward the disappearing woman, heedless of the noise my thudding steps made.

  Turning the corner, I bumped into Dobbs. Unfortunately, the towels he carried like a Leaning Tower of Pisa in front of him went flying. He stood there in the hall, his eyes bulging with outrage and his wispy hair sticking out in tufts.

  “Miss Lovell,” he said through clenched teeth, “is there a bloody fire?”

  “No, just walking briskly. It is good for my constitution,” I said, collecting the towels and stacking them again. Stuffing them into his arms, I gave him a sunny smile.“You should watch where you’re going.”

  “Me watch!”

  “Yes, you could harm yourself,”I said, then left him gasping like a fish out of water.

  The scent of roses lingered about me, but I wasn’t about to ask Dobbs again about the mysterious woman. I’d yet to meet Katherine Trevelyan, and I wondered why she or anyone else would wish to frighten me.

  Were I a woman given to such notions as haunting ghosts, I might have been tempted to flee as my hired driver had fled into the morning mists.

  Returning to my room, I firmly shut the door behind me and twisted the key in the lock, determined to put the incident from my mind. Something I had no trouble doing, for I found a shocking display before me.

  A small fire had been lit in the hearth, its welcoming warmth chasing away any dampness sweeping in from the bay. The bed had been turned down, the rich coverlets neatly folded back in a queenly invitation to rest, and a reading light had been lit for
my pleasure. I stood stunned. My toiling days as a laundress had always been followed by more work to address personal needs—laundry, cleaning, and cooking. During my mother’s illness, I’d nursed her as well as tending to our laundry business and our own needs. Her last days were still a blur of exhaustion from which I was only now recovering.

  Blinking back emotion brought on by memories and the care Benedict Trevelyan’s servants had bestowed upon me, I readied myself for bed. But instead of crawling into the luxury awaiting me, I wandered over to the windows and peered into the night. Before me, in the distance below, lay the twinkling lights of the city as I’d never before seen them. From the heights of Trevelyan Hill, looking down at the city was like looking down upon the stars instead of up. It was a strange sensation and not a comfortable one, so I did not linger. I collected an encyclopedia and settled beneath the covers, intent on planning lessons, but the day’s events and revelations took precedent over the blurring words on the page. And one among those incidents called upon my heart—Justin and Robert’s resentment and bewilderment over their mother’s death.

  The thought of children only five and seven and without the gentle, loving touch of their mother hit a painful chord inside me, and I knew I would not sleep unless I went and checked on them. Sliding from the bed and donning my robe and slippers, I quietly went through a connecting door to the schoolroom and entered the nursery.

  The moment I stepped into the room, I smelled sandalwood. His scent. My breath caught on the tantalizing aroma. I stopped just inside the door, my gaze searching for Benedict Trevelyan. I only remembered to breathe when I did not see him in the dark shadows. Tiptoeing closer to the small, blanket-covered figures, I found Justin and Robert sound asleep, looking peaceful and much happier than they did during their waking hours.

  They must be riding on the wings of angels tonight. That is how my mother always described dreaming—soaring with the angels through the dark of the night, being kept safe until the dawn’s warming light.

  Satisfied, I stole back to my bed with a vision of Justin and Robert’s innocent smiles in my mind and Benedict Trevelyan’s scent upon my senses. Just as my eyes grew sleepy, I heard a noise from the empty schoolroom. Bounding up quickly, I rushed to the room but found no one there. Yet the scent of sandalwood was stronger than before, and it lingered in my dreams throughout the restless night. I kept wondering if Benedict Trevelyan had been in the shadows of the children’s room after all and had seen me in my nightclothes.

  5

  “Miss Wovell. Miss Wovell! Justin says we are not going to go at all.” Robert pulled on the skirt of my gray dress and jumped with frustration. When excited, he mispronounced his l ’s as w ’s. “You promiseded a picnic today! Can we go now?”

  In the two weeks I’d been at Trevelyan Hill, Robert and Justin’s quirks and problems had become endearingly familiar. I slipped my hand into Robert’s to ease him from the habit of grabbing at clothing for attention and tapped him on the nose.“You are certainly correct, Master Robert. We are going on a picnic. But before we take our outing, there are quite a few things we must attend to first. I have heard it said that picnics are best after a morning’s work than before.”

  Robert skewed his face into a frown.“I want to go now.”

  Considering it was but eight in the morning and Benedict Trevelyan was due back today after a week’s absence, I didn’t think it prudent for us to go the park without doing our lessons first. Thus far, my time at Trevelyan Manor had passed in much the same manner as my first day, with the exception of seeing Benedict Trevelyan. He was only present at dinner and quickly excused himself each evening to attend to business. Yet since he’d been away, I’d missed even those brief moments of his presence.

  I’d had no more sightings of the mysterious dark-haired woman, and no instances of my belongings being disturbed; but the sensation of being watched stayed with me, most often when I was alone and walking through the house.

  I’d yet to meet Katherine Trevelyan. She had a respiratory ailment, and from what I gathered through the dinner conversations between Mrs. Trevelyan, Stephen Trevelyan, and Constance Ortega, Katherine was refusing all visitors but for the doctor and her nurse. I’d been surprised to learn that a woman full-grown, for I knew Katherine to be twenty, still had a nurse to care for her on a full-time basis. I wondered anew if there was truth to the rumors of her madness.

  Robert tugged on my hand.“Wanna go to the park now, Miss Wovell.”

  Smiling, I squatted down and brushed an errant lock of dark hair from his forehead, seeing a bit of his father in the set of his chin. He was so young and so eager for love and attention that he’d readily accepted and invited demonstrations of affection. Justin was just the opposite. He kept a granite rock between himself and anyone else.

  “If we went to the park this morning, we would not have as much fun as we will if we wait and go at lunch time.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, not doing your work before you play is like putting dark clouds over a bright sunny day. If you get your work done first, you will be responsible, and you will have more fun because you will not be worrying about the work waiting for you.”

  Robert moved his mouth as he mentally chewed over my advice.“But what if there’s always work, like my daddy has? He never gets to pway, and I will not either.”

  I opened my mouth then shut it as I mentally tripped over his unexpected insight. In scrambling for an answer, I realized something about myself.“I don’t think it is because as adults we do not have time to play. I think it is because we have forgotten how to play.”

  “Have you forgetted?”

  “Forgotten. Yes,” I said, standing.“I think I have. You and Justin are going to have to teach me how to play.”

  “Pwomise?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will go tell Juss.” Robert let loose of my hand and started running.

  “Remember to walk in the house, not run.” My words went unheeded, and I knew I’d receive another remark from Dobbs concerning the boys’ behavior. I looked forward to the exchange; besting Dobbs was proving to be most interesting.

  The rest of the morning flew by with the work of our lessons. Before long, I was collecting a picnic basket from Cook Thomas with Robert dancing about my skirts and Justin scuffing his shoes across the floor. His face bore a wary look, as if he expected a monster to swoop down and snatch the picnic away. Thanking Thomas and carrying my drawing supplies along with the picnic basket, I led the boys through the house, my spirits matching Robert’s excitement. It had been many years since I’d had the pleasure of picnicking in Holloway Park.

  Dobbs stood in the foyer and frowned when he saw us. “Miss Lovell, might I inquire as to where you are taking the children? It is barely noon. The boys’ lessons could hardly be fin—”

  “The lessons are still in progress, Mr. Dobbs, I assure you. We are off to Holloway Park to conduct a botanical exploration, and while there, we are going to study a subject that the adults in Trevelyan Manor have completely forgotten.”I saluted the suit of armor, paying homage to the metal rather than to Dobbs, who was doing his best to project a godlike image.

  He lifted a skeptical brow, indicating that there was nothing he forgot.

  Opening the demon-carved doors—their gleaming darkness never failed to remind me of Benedict Trevelyan— I motioned the boys out and sent Dobbs a sunny smile.“We are off to study fun.” I shut the door on his frown and turned to face the bright sun. Instead, I met Stephen Trevelyan’s grin.

  “Uncle Steph, we are going to learn fun. Wanna come with us?” Robert pulled on Stephen Trevelyan’s coat. I noticed Justin kept walking down the stairs then waited at the bottom, putting himself on the fringes to watch rather than to participate—something he did often.

  The boys’ uncle bent down, lifted Robert into his arms, and affectionately tickled him. “Since you are the fun expert, you must be teaching the class today.”

  Robert blinked.
“That’s what Miss Wovell said. You come teach her fun, too? You are lots of fun.”

  Seeing Stephen Trevelyan tease Robert was the first real affection I’d seen any of the adults in Trevelyan Manor show; it warmed me. I didn’t want to deprive the children of an opportunity to have fun with their uncle, but having Stephen Trevelyan join us in the park seemed a bit too familiar. My shoulders tensed.

  Stephen ruffled Robert’s hair. “Maybe later. I promised Aunt Constance that I would take her shopping.”

  Robert poked out his bottom lip. “Aunt Constant is mean. She doesn’t ever like to play anything. She’s not like Aunt Kaff. Aunt Kaff is fun when she’s not painting, even if she does not like talking.”

  Stephen Trevelyan set Robert down and chuckled. “Aunt Kaff loves talking, you just have to know how to listen, and Aunt Constance only likes to play shopping. That does not make her mean, only expensive. I will bring you and Justin a treat from Winkle’s Confection Shop.”

  Robert grinned wide.“A candy stick?”

  “If you like. Or would you rather have gumdrops?”

  “No. A candy stick is better.”

  Stephen Trevelyan turned to Justin, studying him a moment.“And what can I bring you?”

  Justin shrugged, looking down.

  “If I remember correctly, gumdrops were your favorite.”

  “That was before you left,” Justin said, keeping his gaze on his feet.“I do not want anything now.”

  My stomach clenched as I realized his mother wasn’t the only person Justin felt that he had lost.

  “Gumdrops it is, then,” Stephen Trevelyan said. When he looked at me, his smile was forced, and dark shadows had crept into his eyes.“I will try and make it over to the park. If not, then I will join them in a special game later.”

  “We will see you then,” I said, taking Robert’s hand and moving down the steps.