“No, Mr. Manning, it is not. You have gone above and beyond the requirements of your job. And I do wish to thank you most sincerely. This…” she handed him the larger envelope, “…are references and final wages for the staff. Would you be so kind as to hand them out tomorrow?” She had planned on allowing them a small holiday while she was at St. Anne’s Court waiting for William and Penny to move in to Caymore. However, after what Reginald did this evening, she would be damned if that Stephen Summerville had any of her staff to begin his household.
Manning took the packet and nodded.
“How is Summers taking this?” Olivia asked.
“He is very worried for you. He was in such a state we had to call the doctor.”
“Where is he? In his room?”
Manning nodded.
“I will speak with him before I leave. Is Andrew about?”
“Yes, Your Grace. He is in the dining room, helping to clean up.”
“Would you ask him to step in and wait for me while I speak to Summers?”
“Of course, Your Grace. Is there anything else I may do for you this evening?”
“Yes, if you would be so kind, could you please inform Hendricks I would like the carriage readied. And do tell him not to bring it round front. I will meet him in the mews.”
“Very good, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mr. Manning for all your help. You are the very best of men.”
Olivia left him and knocked on Summers’ door. “Summers, are you awake? It is Lady Olivia. I wonder if I could have a word with you.”
He called for her to come in. “Forgive me, Your Grace for not rising. I am not feeling very well.”
Olivia noted the laudanum on his bed table. “You remain right where you are, dearest.” She pulled up a straight-back chair and sat down next to his bed.
“Did you witness the apparition, Your Grace?”
“No, dearest,” Olivia said. “It was not Lord Fitzhugh’s ghost, but an imposter play-acting as his son. Lord Hargrave thought to do me a harm by bringing this man into our home.”
“Lord Hargrave?” Summers asked. “Why would he do such a cruel thing? And to you of all people? Your Grace, it cannot be borne.”
“No, Summers, it cannot. And that is why I mean to go away, to escape the gossipmongers. As you know, Mr. Manning will be returning to Haverlane’s and Andrew has found other employment. I wonder if you would like to stay here at Caymore or would you rather return to Westerly Manor?”
“How long will you be away from home, Your Grace?” Summers asked.
“Several months as it were.”
Summers closed his eyes. “I think I would like to return to Westerly Manor, Your Grace. I am too old to be here alone.”
“Of course, dearest. I will have Hendricks bring you back in a few days.”
“A few days,” Summers murmured. “Yes, a few days.” He was asleep.
Olivia pulled the blankets up to the old man’s shoulders, leaned down, and kissed his forehead. Then she returned to the yellow salon.
“Ah, Andrew,” Olivia said, as she entered the room.
“Your Grace, are you all right?”
“Yes, Andrew, perfectly well. However, I must speak with you. Come in and sit down.” She led him over to the sofa. She sat in her chair. “Do sit down.”
Andrew sat.
“I have just spoken with Manning and Summers. Summers wishes to return to Westerly Manor. Manning is going to remain through Twelfth Night. His orders for the next several days are to inform my callers I am not receiving. After that, he is to say I am away from home. On Twelfth Night, he will remove the doorknocker. I would like you to remain here with him so you may tell me who has called.”
“You wish me to spy for you, Your Grace?”
Olivia nodded. “Yes, Andrew, I do. Lord Hargrave is surely to arrive at some point looking for something to support his claim that Mr. Summerville is my late husband’s son. He may or may not bring several other people with him. I need to know who comes to this house.”
“Shall I prevent them from taking anything?” Andrew seemed to like that idea.
Olivia smiled. “No, Andrew, for there is nothing to take. I have already removed all of Lord Caymore’s private papers from the house.” When she and Jennings packed, Olivia took the complete contents of Fitzhugh’s desk and files, down to the last quill nib. His study was empty.
“Before Manning goes, I would like you and him to cover the furniture, and close up the house. Then you may join me at St. Anne’s Court.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Andrew, it goes without saying you will not tell anyone, and I mean anyone, where I am.”
“Of course, Your Grace. You may count on my discretion.”
“Thank you, Andrew. You’re a good lad. I will see you next week.”
Andrew rose from the sofa. “Good night, Your Grace.”
“Good night, Andrew.”
Olivia returned to the escritoire and took out another envelope. Yesterday she had taken all the money from Cook’s pantry and the butler’s purse. After paying the servants, a few hundred pounds remained. Her fingers closed around the envelope. There was nothing more to do except leave.
She took one last look at Fitzhugh Leighton’s portrait hanging over the fireplace.
“Good-bye, dearest,” she said and walked out of the yellow salon.
The London Times
27 December 1811
New Heir of Caymore Found
Last night at the Duchess of Caymore’s Boxing Day Ball, His Grace, the Duke of Hargrave surprised everyone by his announcement he had found the long lost heir to the Caymore duchy. Mr. Stephen Summerville, an American shipbuilder, is purported to be the late Duke of Caymore’s son.
The announcement left everyone at the ball shocked, most notably Lady Caymore herself, who fainted and was carried from the room. Friends and relatives were stunned by the news. His Grace, Charles Leighton, Duke of Olmstead vowed he would investigate this astonishing claim made by his cousin.
William Smith, Earl of Westerly, made famous by Lady Caymore when she requested the Letters Patent to the Caymore duchy be approved for him, said he has no reason to dispute the claim. He had no further comment.
At Caymore House this morning, when this reporter asked for an interview, he was refused. One can only imagine how the Duchess is feeling.
The Ladies Gazette
30 January 1812
Post Script
On 26 December, His Grace, the Duke of Hargrave, informed Lady Olivia Leighton, Duchess of Caymore, he had purportedly found a Caymore heir. The news has left London Society agog. Mr. Stephen Summerville, an American shipbuilder, the alleged heir, has refused to comment. The Duke of Hargrave’s official statement: My late uncle requested of me on his deathbed to find his son. I have done so, and I will do everything in my power to see his claim to the duchy upheld.
All interview requests to the Duchess of Caymore were denied. On 6 January, this reporter found the doorknocker removed from Caymore House. A footman stated Lady Caymore is now traveling abroad and will not return to London for some time.
The Patent Committee for the Crown, which had been investigating, has stalled due to insufficient evidence. It seems the Duchess of Caymore is needed for the confirmation of several facts surrounding the claim. Now that she is out of the country, what will happen to the Patent?
Epilogue
Olivia sat in the breakfast room on St. Anne’s Court, sipping tea and looking over her list for the grocer. She and Nella were heading to Simpson’s as soon as Nella finished sorting the pantry.
The doorknocker rapped loudly.
Olivia rose from her chair. “I shall answer it, Nella,” she called out.
Fanny Black, her neighbor, had taken to calling nearly every morning for a chat. She was a nice woman, although long-winded, and Olivia was glad she had an excuse to escape this morning.
The doorknocker banged again.
“Yes, just a moment,” Olivia said. She pulled open the door.
Stephen Summerville stood on her front stoop….
The End
Coming soon from Shore Road Publishing, …
The Lady’s Secret
From the moment Lady Ariana Leighton met Mr. Stephen Summerville, she lost her heart. However, when Mr. Summerville was introduced to her younger sister Arabella, Ariana knew that Stephen had lost his.
Ariana surrendered the notion of love with Stephen Summerville.
Yet, she left a tiny piece of her heart open – hope would always remain.
Chapter One
New York City
November 1811
Standing in the overheated grand ballroom of the Astor mansion in New York City, Ariana Leighton wound her pearls around her fingers and desperately wished she could leave. The pasted smile on her face made her cheeks hurt, and her toes curled and uncurled in her too tight slippers. She could not wait to return to the hotel and finish packing. Her father, the Duke of Hargrave, had decided he’d had enough of the Americans, and they were finally returning to England. Ariana could not wish it to come fast enough. For all the traipsing about in the last year, for all the entertainment she had found, Ariana only wished to be back in her own home, in her own room, and to see her old friends once more.
Oh, the Americans were amusing, and somewhat civilized, but they were not English and had no sense of correctness, if that was what one could call it. They called her father, duke, not your grace, and although it was polite in certain Society, coming from an American somehow made it sound vulgar. They did not adhere to teatime, which her mother Constance insisted on, nor did they refrain from spewing the most indecent gossip. Idle rumors plagued the London ton, the more salacious ending up on page six of the Times or the Ladies Gazette. However, gossip in London seemed more like idle chatter, whereas the Americans turned it into a blood sport.
Ariana spotted her mother looking frantic, as she wound her way through the party. Once at her side, she said, “Dearest, where is Bella? I declare I have not seen her since we stepped foot inside this mansion.”
“I’m sure she is with her friends saying good-bye,” Ariana replied.
“Well, she should have had the care to tell me. Your father is ready to leave. He has a frightful headache.” Her mother perched on her tiptoes to search the room. “Would you be so kind as to find her? I hate to impose, but your father is agitated and you know that does not bode well for any of us. We shall be waiting for you in the front parlour. And do hurry, dearest. You know how your father becomes.”
“Leave it to me, Mama. I shall find her.” Ariana moved along the wall keeping away from the middle of the crowd as much as possible. Masses of people frightened her, and she held her hand outstretched, as if walking through a jungle trying to stay the foliage.
She spotted Bella in the corner with her friends. If she weren’t such a lady, Ariana would have rolled her eyes. For all her twenty years, Bella still behaved like a chattering magpie. As Ariana moved closer to the group, she took note of the furtive glances the girls’ cast to the far side of the door. Ariana swiveled her gaze where it fell upon the handsome William Astor, son of their host for the evening. Bella had no idea the man would never look twice in her direction. As heir to the Astor fortune, William was not interested in giggling girls.
Ariana approached the group. The girls quieted and one of them had the audacity to cut her directly by turning her back. Only more reason to despise the Americans.
“Father has a headache and desires to leave, Bella. Come,” Ariana said. She placed her hand on Bella’s elbow.
“Oh, so soon?” Bella shook her off. “We have only just arrived.”
“Dearest, we have been here almost four hours. Father wishes to leave. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. Say good-bye to your friends.” Ariana gave a slight but distinct emphasis on the word friends; saying it was so unpleasant.
“Good-bye, Bella, we shall all miss you.”
“Perhaps we will come abroad this summer and we will all meet again.”
“Invite us to your wedding. Daddy will be sure to allow us to come then.”
Ariana hoped she would be able to negate that idea. Even though she never voiced it aloud, the girls had no refinement. They would only embarrass Bella if they ever appeared in London Society.
Walking across the great room, Bella pouted. “Why do you always feel the need to be so brusque in front of my friends? Your manner does nothing to endear you to them.”
“Bella, I have no need for them to be endeared to me. I find them coarse and socially unattractive. I suppose you will tell me you did not notice the way Caroline cut me.” Ariana quickened her pace.
“No, I did not. But is it any wonder? I swear Ariana, since coming to America you have altered your character so completely I hardly know you anymore.” Bella formed a hard line with her lips.
Ariana could also say the same for her sister. Once happy to remain in each other’s company, they had now drifted miles apart. However, the journey home took six weeks and there was no room to escape discord on a ship. Ariana said, “Forgive me, dearest. It is my leg.”
Bella said nothing, but looped her arm through Ariana’s.
“Ah, at last,” their mother said as they approached. “Come girls, get your things. Your father is waiting.”
Ariana stood with Bella in the anteroom waiting to retrieve her cloak from the servant.
“Here you are. I have been searching for you everywhere.”
Ariana turned. Stephen reached for Bella’s hand.
“Where were you?” Stephen asked. “I thought we would be able to dance at least once.”
Bella shook her head. “Saying good-bye to my friends. The orchestra played pitiably and I did not wish to dance.”
“Bella, it was our last night here in America. I thought to show you off.” His tone reflected his unhappiness.
“Well, you should have danced with Ariana then. I had no wish to be paraded around as your peacock for the evening.” Bella grabbed her wrap from the footman and left the room without looking back.
Ariana sucked in a breath at Bella’s cruel remark. Everyone knew Arian could not dance with her crooked leg.
“What did I say?” Stephen asked.
Ariana took in his troubled countenance. “I do not think it was anything you said, Stephen. Bella has moods, which I’m sure you’ve probably seen. She has made friends here and does not wish to leave so soon.” Ariana dared not tell Stephen Bella wished to remain in America because of her new friends’ decadent lifestyles. The wicked confession one night caused Ariana to wonder if Bella loved Stephen at all.
“Well, I hope she does not suffer from her moods on the ship. ‘Twill be a dreadful voyage for us all then.” He took Ariana’s velvet cape from the footman and placed it on her shoulders.
Ariana’s heart skipped a beat. The thrill having him touch her sent chills down her spine.
“Shall we find your parents?” He offered his arm, and Ariana took it gratefully. Standing all evening had pained her leg and her limp appeared noticeable.
Outside, her family waited for her in the carriage. Stephen handed her up.
“I shall see you at the shipyard in the morning, Your Grace.” Stephen nodded to her parents. “Bella, Ariana.” He closed the door, but remained in the street as the carriage departed.
Her father rubbed his temples. “Damned Americans. I cannot tell you how glad I am to be away from here.” He looked at his wife. “Remind me never to cross the pond again, no matter how much I think it is a good idea.”
“Reggie,” her mother said. She reached for his hand. “There is no reason for us ever to return. You have done what you set out to do.” She glanced at her daughters. “You will feel much better on the morrow.” She gave him an encouraging smile.
The Duke of Hargrave turned to Bella. “And why did you not dance with Stephen? He looked for you all evening.”<
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Bella lifted her chin. “I did not wish to dance, Father. The orchestra could not keep time. I had no wish to embarrass myself.”
He snorted. “Not keep time? Bella, the orchestra hailed from Germany and brought over especially for this event. They play for the Crowned Heads of Europe. How can you suggest they cannot keep time?”
“Father, I had no wish to dance.” Bella turned her face toward the window.
Her father snorted. “For a girl who is engaged to one of the richest men in America, you certainly have a strange way of showing your affection. Ariana would never slight Stephen so indecorously.”
The carriage pulled up in front of their hotel and Bella jumped out before anyone could set the step. She leaned into the carriage and hissed, “Well, let Ariana marry him then.”
Her parents exchanged looks and Ariana kept her head down lest they see her flushed cheeks. Marry Stephen? He looked upon her as nothing more than his future invalid sister-in-law.
Anne Gallagher grew up a voracious reader on the shores in Rhode Island hoping to be a famous author. Although, not famous yet, she continues to pen stories about love in the Regency era, her favorite subject. She lives in the Foothills of the Piedmont, with her daughter, three dogs, and a cat named Henry David Thoreau.
Her author website
http://annegallagherwriter.blogspot.com
Her boards on Pinterest where you can find sneak peeks
into the actors she’d like her characters to be
Lady Olivia's Undoing Page 14
