A Right to Love
By
Liza O’Connor
All rights reserved.
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All characters in this book come from the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, titles or professions. While some of my characters are inspired by known historical individuals, any resemblance to the actual person is purely coincidental since the author has created their personality and actions to suit the story.
Historical Facts:
By the 1890’s Solicitors of the prosecution routinely presented cases to juries. Even as early as 1876, a transcript of a murder case indicates the lawyer prosecuting the case was called “solicitor for the prosecution”.
Thus in Mr. Collin’s trial, I refer to the prosecutor as a solicitor rather than a barrister. Had Mr. Collins been able to gain access to his wife’s fortune, he would have acquired the best barrister money could buy. Sadly, he was denied access to her money, thus he could only afford a solicitor to defend him.
Fortunately the change in the Women’s Property Rights of 1882 played in Mrs. Carson/Collin’s favor. When her first husband died, he left the Litchfield estate to his daughter and the substantial remaining fortune to his young bride. When Mrs. Collins married Mr. Carson, upon advisement of her lawyer, she did not sign her property over to him, but retained it separately in her own name.
Generally, death was a great way to acquire the assets of a wife who kept them in her own name while alive. Wills required the husband’s permission before a wife could give the inheritance to anyone other than the husband. However, Mr. Carson had unwittingly signed his approval that her money could go to charities during the pre-nuptial contract signings. A great reminder to Read Before You Sign.
A Note about Punctuation
In my novels, I use the British logical punctuation rule when placing dialog tags by periods and commas, instead of the American fragile punctuation rule.
This is an example of British logical punctuation: Here I am a highly skilled craftsman and it’s ‘be a look out’, ‘guard the boy’, ‘guard the beggar’.
In the American illogical rule, it would be: Here I am a highly skilled craftsman and it’s ‘be a look out,’ ‘guard the boy,’ ‘guard the beggar.’
There is no logic in putting the punctuation on the outside. The American rule came about due to shoddy printing equipment which is long gone. Thus, we need to return to logical punctuation in this matter.
Table of Contents
A Right to Love
All rights reserved.
Historical Facts:
A Note about Punctuation
Table of Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Cadiz, Spain
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
OTHER BOOKS BY LIZA O’CONNOR
Blurb
Jacko, a gypsy with a great love for stealing, rescues a suffragette from Bedlam. Upon returning the elderly woman to safety, he meets her blue-stocking daughter. Alice has decided she prefers managing her estate farms over London society. She is resigned to never marry until the handsome and surprisingly wealthy man with a dark past and several identities steals her heart.
Chapter 1
Litchfield, England Spring, 1894
Alice’s hands trembled as she opened Mrs. Bainsworth’s letter.
My dear Alice,
I hardly know what to write. I have been in Italy for two weeks, and have not found anyone who has seen your mother. I have inquired with all her friends and engaged them in the search. I do not believe she is in Italy, and certainly not in Sicily, as Mr. Carson claims.
My dear, I do not trust your stepfather, and I fear for your mother. If you have not heard from her since I’ve left, you must go to Scotland Yard at once. Perhaps they can force the truth from the dreadful man.
A friend always,
Julia Bainsworth
Alice refolded the letter and looked to her butler hovering at her elbow. “Thomas, ready my carriage. I am going to London.”
The old man’s worry-wrinkles deepened. “London, Miss? Has your mother returned then?”
“No. Nor does she appear to be in Sicily, as Mr. Carson claims.”
Her dedicated butler gripped her arm. “You are not planning to confront him alone, are you? It would not be wise. I will send Bart and Ludson to accompany you.”
She covered Thomas’ hand with her own. “Bart and Ludson have work here, plowing their fields. Neither they nor their families would appreciate me taking them away from their farms just because they are too large for my stepfather to intimidate.”
Thomas’ grip held firm. “I assure you, Miss, they would rather lose two days work, than the first decent estate manager this land has ever had.”
Alice smiled at the compliment. She had tried very hard to win over her tenant farmers in the last year. While they all had been thrilled to see the last estate manager go, they became downright horrified when she announced she would take on the responsibility herself.
“Did they really say I was the best? Or are you imbuing them with your beliefs?”
His eyes darkened in outrage. “I’ll send for them now, and they can tell you themselves.”
She placed a hand on Thomas’ rigid, boney shoulder. “I believe you, and if I were foolish enough to confront Mr. Carson, I would consider the offer. However, I hope to keep my stepfather entirely unaware of my arrival in London.”
Thomas’ brows furrowed as he crossed his arms. “Then what is your purpose?”
She did not have time for this discussion. Her mother’s life was in peril. Right now, she needed servants who did their job without question. “Thomas, I am not required to tell you such matters. Truly, you forget yourself.”
She turned and went to the library safe. From it, she extracted a small handgun and tucked it into her traveling purse. “And have May prepare a basket of food.” She looked up to find Thomas gone.
Recalling her last remark, she grimaced. She feared she had hurt the dear old man’s feelings. She knew Thomas didn’t see himself as a servant, but rather her protector, mentor, and ally in war.
Cursing herself for her insensitive response, she hurried to the hall. “Thomas,” she called.
He stepped regally from the kitchen carrying a basket of food. “I had the cook assemble you sustenance for your journey.” He then sniffed and turned his head slightly to the left so he need n
ot look her in the eye.
Alice took the basket from his hand and set it on the shiny, waxed floor, then hugged him.
He remained stiff as a washboard during her brief expression of affection.
She stepped back, upset by his rejection. Throughout her childhood, his hugs were the best part of her days. “Thomas, forgive my thoughtless words. I am just worried about Mother. My purpose in London is to see Victor Hamilton, who works for the investigator Xavier Thorn. I am going to hire him to help us find out what has happened to her.”
Thomas hugged her. “That’s a grand idea. But make sure it’s Xavier Thorn you hire and not that young scamp.”
“Victor is quite clever…”
“As Mrs. Hamilton’s nephew, I’ve no doubt he is, but you need the best, and everyone knows Xavier Thorn is the finest sleuth in England. That’s the man who can find your mother.”
Alice leaned in and kissed her dear friend on his withered cheek. “What would I do without you?”
***
When Alice exited the house, her largest carriage with four horses awaited. She would have preferred the smaller carriage, but she could not question Thomas’ judgment after her insult.
She thanked the servants rushing about before climbing in with her butler’s unnecessary, but appreciated, assistance.
“How long do you plan to be gone, Miss?”
“I hope to speak with Mr. Thorn today, stay with the Hamiltons tonight, and return home tomorrow.”
He smiled with relief. “I pray God keeps you safe.”
“Then he shall.” She gripped his hand. “For you are his finest Guardian Angel.”
Thomas’ eyes turned glassy as he stepped back and closed the carriage door.
He then spoke to the driver. “Head on, Joseph, and keep your eyes open for trouble, men.”
As the carriage pulled out, she leaned out the window and waved goodbye to the servants gathered. Before pulling her head in, she looked up, trying to see who these ‘men’ were to whom Thomas had directed his closing words.
Joe was driving and Dom sat beside him.
Not as bad as she feared. When she had heard ‘men,’ she worried the top of her carriage was loaded down with every male servant on the staff, all armed with rifles and orders to keep her safe.
***
Alice cringed as her carriage entered London. She hated the city. While most young girls thought London as the fruition of their dreams, Alice only saw a battlefield.
For five years, Mr. Carson clothed her in provocative gowns and demanded she dance with men of his choosing, but despite all his efforts, he could not bully her into marrying any of the toads.
She smiled, remembering the numerous men she had chased off during her endless seasons in London. While her antics infuriated Mr. Carson, her mother never pushed her to marry a man she did not love. Her mother knew all too well the misery in such a path.
The carriage finally halted in front of a white, two-story house. A small sign, hanging from a wrought iron post, stated ‘Thorn’s Private Inquiries’.
She walked up the steps and knocked on the door. As she waited, she turned to her carriage and noticed three additional servants seated on top. Thomas had evidently snuck them aboard after she’d entered the carriage. She hated that the men had suffered a long cold ride, but she knew her butler feared what might happen to her while she was in London. And in truth, so did she.
She jumped as the door opened and a man in his fifties, wearing a rumpled black suit, stared at her. “Can I help you, miss?”
“I would like to speak to Xavier Thorn.” She had initially intended to see Victor first, but feared he would be insulted when she wished Mr. Thorn to take her case.
The man’s eyebrows furrowed deep as if she had somehow hurt him with her request. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“You must have an appointment to see Mr. Thorn.”
“I see…” Perhaps her original plan had been better. “Is Victor Hamilton here?”
The man smiled. “Yes, ma’am, he is. Please come in. Who may I say is calling?”
“Alice Collins.”
He ushered her inside and closed the door behind her. “Let me announce you.” He pointed to the chair before an empty desk. “Have a seat if you like.”
Alice smiled. “Thank you, but I’ll stand. I’ve been sitting in a carriage for five hours.”
The man nodded. “I know that feeling.” He pointed down a hallway. “The water closet is the first door if you need it.”
Alice took advantage of his offer. When she stepped out several minutes later, Victor was pacing the floor of the front office. She feared by his deep frown he was out of sorts. However, when he noticed her, he managed a vague smile.
Approaching him, she took hold of his calloused hands. “Victor, I need your help. My mother is missing.”
His frown returned at her news. “Come into my office and give me the details.” He opened a door and ushered her into a small but well-furnished office with a finely finished wood desk and leather chairs.
He motioned to a chair seated before the desk. “May I get you tea or coffee?”
She grabbed hold of her friend’s arm. “I know your boss refuses to see a person without an appointment, but I dare not stay in London longer than necessary.”
“Sit.” Victor hurried to his side of the desk and pulled out paper and pen. “I take all first interviews. Xavier has no patience for them. And in case Claire failed to mention it, I am Xavier’s partner now, not his apprentice.”
Alice realized she had insulted Vic by requesting his boss. “She has not mentioned it, but I am not surprised by your promotion. You were born to be successful, no matter what barriers stand in your way.”
Vic’s frown deepened. “Start at the beginning. When did your mother disappear?”
Alice sighed. “I believe I should start before that. Ever since my mother married Mr. Carson, we have lived a private hell which we have carefully hidden from the world.”
Vic looked up in surprise. “Then you hid it well. I have always thought you excessively happy.”
Alice flinched at his comment. “Some people can disguise the truth. My mother and I became experts of deception.”
“May I ask for what purpose?”
Alice leaned forward. “For survival. My mother’s remarriage was a nightmare. Mr. Carson is not the respectable, jolly fellow he lets on to be. We smiled because he demanded it.”
“And if you did not smile?”
Alice hands twisted together. “I cannot answer for my mother. Our pretense carried even into the house. I never told her of my abuse from Mr. Carson. Instead, I pretended nothing was wrong. I now think, perhaps, she was doing the same. It’s easier to maintain a pretense, if you do it every waking hour.”
Vic nodded. “So you cannot speak to Mr. Carson’s treatment of your mother.”
She shook her head.
Vic tapped his pencil in agitation and then leaned forward. “Based on your own abuse, can you surmise his behavior towards your mother when in private?”
Alice gulped and wished she had accepted the offer of tea. This was a topic that filled her with shame and disgust, but her mother’s life depended on her being strong and facing the truth. “I believe she may have been beaten on her back with a horse whippet, and taken in ways God would not approve. He would not hit her on her face. He would want no bruises to make people speculate that he was not the wonderful fellow he appears in public. But she never leaned back on a chair. And when I was younger and needed to hug her, she would stiffen at my embrace.”
Alice opened her purse and extracted a handkerchief to blot her eyes. At the time, she had thought her mother did not like her hugs, so she had turned to Thomas for affection. Later, she realized a mother’s comfort was just one more thing the monster had stolen from her.
Vic stood and walked to the door. “Davy, bring tea for Miss Collins.” He then returned to his desk an
d stared at her with compassion. “You possess the same rigid posture. My aunt would use you as an example of proper sitting when Claire would slump in her chair.”
Alice smiled. “I have been away from London for a year, and still sit tall. I suppose it has become a habit from years of pain.”
“Exactly when did you leave London?”
“April thirteenth, last year, on my twenty-first birthday. I woke in the morning, while Mr. Carson still slept from a long party the night before, went to my father’s solicitors and took legal possession of the fortune left me. I then rented a carriage and rode to Litchfield Estate.”
She returned the handkerchief to her purse. “At Litchfield, I wrote my mother a letter, telling her of my decision to stay on my estate. I explained my sudden disappearance as a dislike of goodbyes. I then invited her to visit whenever she wished.”
Vic wrote on his pad. “And did she?”
“To my surprise, she did. She arrived two weeks later and stayed a fortnight. She seemed very pleased with my new life. She even encouraged me to fire the farm manager and take the reins myself.”
Vic looked up. “And did she suggest you learn to shoot a gun, as well?”
Alice frowned. “Yes, she did.”
He nodded and continued making notes.
“She still feared for my life…” Alice whispered.
Vic stared at the ceiling, consumed in thought. “Your mother is an odd mixture of compliance and rebellion. I first found it inexplicable why my aunt would befriend such a ‘proper and silly’ woman, but when she spoke at the suffragette meetings, she revealed a different personality. She possessed a great determination that her daughter and her daughter’s daughters should live a better life.”
Alice smiled. “Her comments at those meetings would stun me, as well. She never spoke like that outside those hallowed halls. She never attended rallies or protests. Mr. Carson had no idea she attended the meetings at all.”
Vic pulled open a drawer and dug through his files. After a minute of searching, he pulled a clipped file from the paper and read a portion aloud.
A Right to Love: Romantic Spinoff From The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 2.5 Page 1
