Thornbrook Park

by Sherri Browning

  “I suppose it is,” Eve said to keep her mouth from gaping. Agatha’s revelations always came on quickly and took her by surprise. For all Eve knew, the woman liked to spout nonsense to keep them all on their toes, but Eve never discounted Agatha’s predictions entirely. More than occasionally, Agatha had been proven right. “But Captain Thorne will be arriving soon. We should go to the drawing room to be ready when the car pulls into the drive. Have you seen Mrs. Hoyle? I was about to ask her something.”

  Agatha shook her head. “Alas, no. I wanted to speak to her myself.”

  Eve was both relieved that she had intervened in time to stop Agatha from scaring Hoyle off with any cryptic revelations and curious as to what such revelations might be. Fortunately, Sophia and Alice came down to join them before Eve gave in to the temptation to ask. With Agatha, sometimes it was better not to know.

  “Jenks said that a footman clearing brush from the eaves reported seeing the car turning into the lane,” Sophia said. “Shall we go out?”

  All in agreement, they stepped out the front door into the unseasonably warm sunshine, the remains of the rain evaporating in a steamy mist that curled around their ankles. Though Eve had spent more than an hour at Captain Thorne’s side, mopping his brow and putting water to his lips, she waited with anticipation as the car wheeled around to come to a stop. Her throat clenched as she waited to see the captain step out. She knew intimate details of his body—that he had scars on his chest, a tiny mole on his neck, and freckled shoulders—and yet she didn’t know the man at all. How odd.

  One of the footmen opened the door for him. “Welcome home to Thornbrook Park, sir.”

  When Captain Thorne emerged, he took a quick glance over the lot of them and down the line of assembled servants. Instinctively, Eve drew back a little behind Alice. He wore a dark coat over a white shirt and a simple blue-patterned silk necktie, perfectly arranged. His eyes were bright and inquisitive, and when he swept off his hat, his close-cropped hair glistened like late summer wheat under the sun.

  There was something rough about the captain, something rugged and wild in contrast to his brother’s dignified demeanor. Although Thorne was not the more aesthetically pleasing brother, Eve found him more to her taste. Alice did not seem especially interested in him, though. She stood next to her sister but looked off into the distance as if distracted.

  Captain Thorne’s nose sat slightly crooked with a bit of a bump, as if he’d been injured in his youth. His jaw was square and defined. When he smiled at Sophia, he showed the same perfect white teeth as Lord Averford’s, but with a bit more fullness to his lower lip, a lip that begged to be nibbled, Eve thought, and then wondered at how such a thing had even occurred to her.

  “Marcus,” Sophia greeted him familiarly, taking both of his hands rather than just the one he’d reached out. She leaned in for kisses, a quick buss on each cheek. “So good to see you. Not in uniform?”

  “I’m embracing the civilian life. I’ll probably sell my commission soon enough, and who wants to be reminded?” He shrugged but Eve thought she detected a grimace underneath it. A vein pulsed at the side of his neck just under his earlobe. “Gabriel couldn’t be bothered, I see?”

  “Gabriel can’t sit at home when there are birds out there to shoot.” Sophia gestured, holding hands aloft, as if helpless to have held her husband back.

  Captain Thorne gave a sharp snort of a laugh. “I’ll expect quail for dinner.”

  “For the remove, perhaps. Mrs. Mallows shares your expectations. She will be pressed to make alternative arrangements, should he fail to deliver.” She led Marcus to where Alice stood patiently waiting. “You remember my aunt Agatha, and my sister, Lady Alice Emerson.”

  “You’ve suffered a loss.” Agatha stepped forward, took Captain Thorne’s hand, and closed it in both of hers, her eyes closing. “Recently. It weighs on you. Poor man. You must let it go, let go! Forgive yourself. Bathe in the powerful waters of forgiveness.”

  Placing her hand over the older woman’s as if to break the spirit bond, Sophia gently interjected, “Now, Agatha, our guest has just arrived.”

  “A bath sounds like a fine idea.” With amber eyes shining, Captain Thorne made light of it. “Perhaps after I’m settled.”

  Alice nudged herself between her aunt and the captain, no doubt instinctively trying to protect strangers from Agatha’s eccentricities. “A pleasure to see you again, Captain Thorne.”

  “Likewise, Lady Alice.” He bowed to her most attentively, and she blushed prettily.

  Alice did not have her sister’s overwhelming beauty but she did have a youthful radiance. Her hair was a pretty shade of auburn and her eyes were intriguing, a true hazel. The eyes marked her as unlucky, though, according to Aunt Agatha.

  “Oh look,” Agatha said. “He remembers Alice, though she was just a little girl when they met. Look how she’s grown, Captain Thorne.”

  “I see.” He flashed his white teeth in what Eve considered a wolfish grin. “Not a little girl any longer.”

  Alice would have been fourteen at Sophia’s wedding, Eve recalled. Not quite a little girl on meeting Marcus. Captain Thorne humored them, perhaps. Or he really didn’t remember.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs when his gaze flitted over. Would he know her? But just as quickly, he stepped around to hand his hat to Mr. Finch. Sophia joined them, issuing some orders with regard to the luggage. Eve held her place, assuming an introduction of her own was to come, but instead Sophia and Captain Thorne followed Mr. Finch straight inside.

  She should have been relieved, not out of sorts. Disappointed? How could she be when she’d been hoping he wouldn’t recognize her.

  “You’re to go in for tea.” Mrs. Hoyle took Aunt Agatha by the elbow as if to hurry her along.

  “Some of the maids seem to think he’s really handsome,” Eve said to Alice, catching some of their comments and giggles from across the drive as they dispersed.

  “Captain Thorne? I suppose. He looks a lot like his brother, don’t you think?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Many women find Lord Averford handsome, too. I remember how they were all so envious of your sister when she announced her engagement.”

  “Silly hens. What’s to envy in a marriage? To be tied to one man, considered his property, bah.”

  “Don’t you want to marry one day?” Eve truly hadn’t considered that Alice wouldn’t want a husband.

  “Sophia would like that, wouldn’t she? Then she can stop worrying over my welfare. Marriage is not for me, Eve. No, I shall never marry. I might be quite happy to remain here forever. Wouldn’t that bother Sophia to no end?” She laughed loudly.

  “Marriage is not all bad. With the right man,” Eve said, her voice low.

  Alice took her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thoughtless. You were one of the lucky ones to have a love match. You must miss him dreadfully.”

  “All the time.” But she wasn’t thinking of Ben as much lately. Another man had occupied her thoughts, and now he was here and she was about to face him. “But we should go in now. Your sister expects us to join her for tea.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “With Captain Thorne. She fancies a match between us. Don’t deny it. I know when Sophia’s up to something.”

  “It’s not my place to confirm or deny.”

  Captain Thorne. The memory of him half naked stirred something deep inside her. Her knees shook so that she had to grip the rail to steady herself going up the stone steps. What if he knew her after all? It should be Alice’s moment, Alice’s chance to form a first impression. Worse, though, would be if he didn’t know her when she felt such a connection to him, remembering him intimately, his hand curving around her waist or on her bottom—as if she had any right to such recollections. He’d been in his cups, she reminded herself. Unaware. She was being ridiculous, she knew, but she wasn’t ready to face him.


  “I have a bit of a headache,” she said, bringing her hand to her temple. “Please make my apologies, Alice.”

  “Goodness. I hope you feel better.” Alice reached out to Eve. “Let me help you to your room.”

  “Thank you, but no need to deprive Sophia of two companions. I’ll manage. I just need a moment’s rest.”

  She stepped back to let Mrs. Hoyle lead Agatha and Alice through the hall to the drawing room, where Sophia was already entertaining Captain Thorne.

  Five

  Marcus sat in the overstuffed armchair by the fire and listened to Sophia prattle on about how much his brother was looking forward to seeing him. Bollocks. Gabriel hated him. They both knew it. Thinking of the lengths his brother would have gone to in order to avoid greeting him almost brought on the haze that often signaled a rage about to emerge.

  Fortunately, the footman brought out the tea cart, a suitable distraction, and a good thing. If he needed to regain control of his temper while he was at Thornbrook Park, who would he hit? A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he imagined himself smashing a fist into Gabriel’s smug jaw.

  “Ah, I see you’ve noticed the apple tarts.” Sophia mistook the source of his grin, but no matter. “I had Mrs. Mallows make them just for you.”

  “Delightful. I will have one as soon as I’ve had some—”

  “Coffee, sir? Black. Mr. Finch said it would be your preference.” The footman returned with a pot and poured a cup for him.

  “Bless Mr. Finch. How I’ve missed him.”

  “So you have missed our humble abode. At least some parts of it?” In her enthusiasm, Sophia stirred her tea so vigorously that she spilled some into her saucer.

  “Nothing about Thornbrook Park is humble, dear sister. But I’ve missed it a little perhaps.”

  “The Dower House,” Alice said, entering and crossing the room to take a seat on the sofa next to her sister. “It’s humble, and it’s part of the estate. So there. Oh, Mrs. Kendal sends her apologies, Sophia. She has a sudden headache.”

  “What a shame,” Sophia said. “We’ll have to carry on without her.”

  Alice looked at Marcus, triumph shining in greenish-brown eyes that were quite unlike her sister’s deep blue. Not the gas-flame blue eyes that had haunted his thoughts since his drink-fueled nightmare weeks past, but still he could appreciate another woman’s fine eyes, along with other things. He studied Alice’s figure but couldn’t discern much of her shape under the high-necked blouse and man’s necktie, a purposefully chosen deterrent for his attentions if he’d ever seen one.

  Over his cup, he flashed Alice his most charming grin. “I’ve been put in my place. I don’t think I’ve been in the Dower House since Grandmother’s time. Mother kept her usual rooms the last time I was in residence at Thornbrook Park. I can’t imagine anything humble in the Dower House if Mother had a hand in the decorating. Perhaps you could show me around.”

  Sophia sat up straighter. This was exactly what she wanted to hear, apparently. “Perfect! What a lovely idea. Tomorrow, maybe.”

  “I knew it,” Agatha said, taking a seat next to Alice after having a wander about the room. “I’ve felt her spirit. Your grandmother died there in the house, at the table in the corner of the kitchen, right in the middle of breakfast.”

  Marcus laughed. “Not quite. Mother found her—well, it’s not for polite company, but she was most certainly not found dead in the kitchen.”

  Agatha shook her head. “That can’t be right. I’m sure I felt a force in the kitchen. A powerful force.”

  “Grandmother did have a favorite cat, Miss Puss. I believe Miss Puss might have passed away at table after getting into Granny’s digestives.”

  Alice clapped her hands, delighted. “Miss Puss. Aunt Agatha, really! You’ve been in communication with the spirit of a cat.”

  Her aunt shrugged. “Not surprising. They’re very intelligent creatures. Miss Puss was no doubt an observant soul. She has shared many secrets.”

  Agatha stared meaningfully at Marcus, long enough for him to notice she had the same sharp green eyes as Miss Puss. No wonder they’d hit it off.

  “No doubt she has revealed my boyhood transgressions,” he said. “I used to hide Grandmother’s spectacles and steal her apples, then replace them with onions.”

  “Naughty boy.” Alice raised a thin, brown eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s not all Miss Puss might reveal.”

  “No,” Agatha said, pointing an accusatory finger. “He also put his grandmother in a basket and floated her down the river. You knew how she hated water. How could you?”

  Marcus tried to hide his surprise. Perhaps Aunt Agatha was more in touch with the spirits than anyone had credited.

  “I did put something in a basket and float it down the river, but it wasn’t Grandmother. It was Miss Puss. I was a budding scientist, experimenting with water currents.”

  “Miss Puss.” Agatha shook her head. “All this time, I could have sworn it was the Dowager Countess.”

  “They were truly two of a kind.” Marcus wished to reassure her. “But Grandmother would have been a lot harder to stuff into a basket.”

  Sophia, who’d had the fortune of knowing Grandmother, not a diminutive woman by any stretch, joined Alice in laughing at the idea.

  “Your grandmother was a”—Sophia struggled to find the right word—“a thoughtful woman.”

  “She certainly had a lot of thoughts,” Marcus said. “And she shared every last one of them.”

  “That she did,” Sophia agreed.

  “You have an aura about you, Captain Thorne,” Agatha decided as she munched on one of the sandwiches. “A deep red aura. You’re grounded in reality, with strong willpower and a sense of survival. No doubt it protected you while you were away.”

  “Being surrounded by skilled and brave men is what protected me. I’m afraid auras don’t stop bullets or bombs.”

  “You would be surprised.” Agatha nodded over her tea. “The personal qualities your aura reveals will continue to serve you well. But a man of your intensity might need some guidance from the spirits to avoid misdirecting your passion.”

  Marcus shared a glance with Alice, who again had raised a brow. He began to think he might find his time at Thornbrook Park amusing after all.

  ***

  Instead of heading up to her room, Eve joined the maids—Nan, Lucy, and Ginny—in the servants’ hall, where they took turns peeking out a door to get a better look at the handsome newcomer in the drawing room.

  “He’s all right,” Lucy said, backing off to give way to Nan. “Not quite as good-looking as Lord Averford.”

  “I see the resemblance,” Nan said, taking her look and ducking back in. “He’s not as polished as the earl, perhaps, but there’s something about him, isn’t there?”

  Ginny, a cool blonde who seemed very aware of her own aesthetic appeal, pulled Nan out of the way to take her look. “Something, I’ll say. He’s rougher around the edges, a little dangerous, the way I like them.” She licked her lips.

  “Tell you one thing,” Nan said. “If I could be out there, I wouldn’t be hiding back here. I don’t understand you, Mrs. Kendal.”

  Eve waved Nan off, took another peek at Captain Thorne, and barely managed to contain her sigh. There was something about him, yes. She couldn’t deny it. He smiled at Alice, but there was a hint of volatility simmering just beneath the surface, perhaps the danger that Ginny had recognized.

  “Not hiding,” Eve said, stepping away. “I’m giving Lady Alice her chance to shine. I wouldn’t want to manipulate the conversation.”

  “The conversation could use a little manipulation. Dead cats and grandmas?” Ginny snorted. “If that’s Lady Alice’s shining moment, she’ll remain a spinster for certain. His hair’s so short. I would like to see it a little longer, something to grab hold of…”
>
  “He’s a prizefighter,” Eve said without thinking. “Short hair probably keeps him cooler when he’s working up a sweat.”

  Conversation paused as they all looked at her.

  “A prizefighter?” Lucy said. “How do you know?”

  “I think I heard Lady Averford say something about it.” Eve shrugged. “Perhaps I heard wrong.”

  Eve prayed that bit of gossip wouldn’t work its way around the house with any speed, but she had her doubts.

  “I barely noticed his hair,” Nan said. “I was too busy studying his strong physique.”

  Ginny and Lucy both reached for the door to risk another look, but Mrs. Hoyle happened along to put an end to their fun.

  “I believe the table linens need pressing. And the laundry needs sorting. Off with you.” With a wave of her hand, Hoyle scattered the maids back to their duties. “And you, Mrs. Kendal? Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I came in search of a cool cloth for my head,” Eve lied quickly. “Headache. I mean to lie down for a while.”

  Hoyle peeked through the door to check what had kept her maids occupied and caught an off-center view of Captain Thorne. “I see,” she said, backing away. “Cool cloth indeed. Come along to the kitchen, Mrs. Kendal. Mary will fetch what you need.”

  Six

  Eve stifled a sigh of envy as she fastened the necklace at Sophia’s throat in her preparation to go down to dinner. Strands of gold beaded with onyx and pearls dripped down Sophia’s décolletage, the perfect complement to the cranberry velvet gown. Eve once had a necklace like it, only lovelier. She’d sold it, among other jewels, to settle her accounts in India and make passage. To go with her simple black evening gown, Eve had chosen one of her few remaining necklaces, a simple chain of clear crystals bearing a single, round melo pearl.