He raised his eyebrows, anticipation tightening his chest. “Aye, that I am. What do you have there?”
He held up a hand and wheezed, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Finally he straightened. “I remember where I heard that name.” The man held out the charred remains of Sully’s very own letters to Raina. “Had these in the stable. The missus wouldn’t let them be destroyed, so certain she was that there was a story to them. We couldn’t make out most of what they said, but it struck me that they must belong to your missing lass. Raina, it says here on the front. Isn’t that the name you gave?”
She had been here. Breathless, he accepted the letters whose burnt edges flaked against his touch. There they were, these letters, his heart poured out on the page—and torched. He turned away, unable to bear the sight of his honest words cast aside like fish guts. She’d never been able to write back, with him sailing from port to port, so he had no idea what she’d thought of his declaration.
Raina, my Raina.
He reached up to pull off the blue cap she’d made for him so many years ago and looked at the careful stitching. No matter the storms threatening to snatch the thing from him on the ship, he’d kept that hat firmly fixed on his head—and its lovely creator filling his heart to bursting.
He forced himself to glance down at his cast-off letters, running a finger over them. Any way one looked at it, this sight was not a good sign. “Where did these come from?”
“The rubbish pile, out in the field. The maids bring it out by the bucketful from the abbey, and we burn it when it’s full.”
Sully glanced up at the castle of a house in the distance, its perfect stone walls guarding some mystery about the woman he adored. What had happened here?
“The scullery maid brought this load out with orders to burn it straightaway. It was left behind by some wandering vagrant, they said, and they were afraid of disease and such. There’s something odd about the whole thing, if you ask me, though. I probably shouldn’t be giving you these, and I fear I’ll see trouble over it if anyone finds out.” He glanced out to the field at a little cluster of cottages. “But I’m more afraid of what my wife would do to me if I didn’t.”
Sully grinned at the stable master.
“Can I offer you a place to spend the night? My missus would love to host the man who wrote those letters. She might not let you sleep much, once she finds out who you are, though.”
Sully shook his head, cringing at the notion of exposing one of his deepest hurts to a nosey housewife when he had barely begun to share them with Raina, yet his mind was a blank as he tried to fathom where he might go next. He sighed. “I should see if I can catch a train back to town and join another ship crew. Thank you for everything, just the same.” He tipped his cap and swung his bag over his shoulder, marching toward the drive.
“I do have one other suggestion for you.” The man’s voice carried over the tall golden grass bowing in the breeze. “If you’ve nothing else to do with your time.”
Sully took a step back toward the man, prepared to say yes to whatever it was if it gave him the chance to remain. He’d ask every person in the household about her, hunt down every clue until he found the truth. It wasn’t in Raina to disappear from her whole life the way this man suggested, but it certainly was in her to find trouble, and it seemed she had.
And just like always, he’d be there to swoop in and rescue her.
5
Just because it’s who we have always been, it does not mean it’s who we were created to be.
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
The second time I rode toward that grand house, I was shaped into an entirely different person. Torso erect against firm stays and hair piled in graceful coils about my head, I couldn’t help but feel every inch a lady. My skin felt fresh and alive, tingling with all that it had undergone that day, and my hair was clean and soft, loose curls framing my face. I’d never realized how much grime had layered my skin until it was removed and replaced with creams and powders.
Perhaps this truly was all of God, for it seemed he specialized in the extraordinary. Sully was always telling me that, and he had been the vicar’s son. He knew everything about God. How I wish I did too, especially in moments like this that were foggy as the London air over the Thames at night. No matter how much I pored over Sully’s Bible, God remained a mystery, an enigma as far from my grasp as the mansions of Mayfield Square. They were a mile from Spitalfields, but an ocean away from my life.
“There’s just one more piece to cover before you can be presented at the abbey.” He then poured out to me the details of the woman I was supposed to embody. Lovelyn Rumilla Margaruite Shaunghess, Countess of Enderly, was bright and graceful, a soft glowing light of regal poise and graciousness—and utterly benevolent. Like an angel of mercy, she cast about her considerable influence and fortune to help those who needed her. India, Africa, even London’s Whitechapel district saw help from this magnanimous woman. She was everything I’d always wanted to be if I were cut free from the poverty that had stunted my life.
“She is confident, but not outspoken. Beautiful, but without airs. She is, in every way, a most compelling and accomplished lady.”
I turned my flushed face to the window and caught sight of my reflection. “I won’t fool anyone. Won’t the rest of the staff know straight off that I’m not her?”
He smiled under the shadow of his hat. “Not unless you tell them. I don’t believe she has ever made the time to visit this particular estate.”
“Where does she live, then?”
“She spends much time abroad, involved in great charitable endeavors and adventures of various sort, but she keeps a house in London.”
“So the abbey has sat empty all these years.” That would explain the neglect I’d seen.
“Not exactly. The former owner began renovating the abbey into a manor house, but he didn’t complete the project before life and old age cropped up. Rothburne has become a sort of escape for whoever needs it, complete with a year-round staff to keep it running. There are often cousins or acquaintances about, using the place as a stopover in their travels, or a disgraced nobleman needing a reprieve from the public eye. The earl visits regularly but keeps to himself. He’s a rather surly sort, so this is a fabulous hideaway for him. It’s a marvelous source of income, with many tenants farming its lands and paying you for the opportunity to do so.”
“How kind of me. I hope I’m a good landlord.”
The stately abbey came into view then, majestically tall and adorned with garden hedges and windows that promised hours bathed in glorious sunlight. I gasped, my gloved hand covering my mouth. I’d barely gotten a glimpse of it the other day as we’d been delivered directly to the old dormitory wing. To the far left, a sparkling blue pond cut into the spread of green grass, and a haven of nature beckoned to me beyond it.
He smiled, enjoying my reaction. “Just look at it—an incredible gem hidden away out here among the wildflowers, ready to be plucked from ruination and neglect and, with just a little help, made to flourish. Just like its new mistress.”
His wink flustered me. “I’d be a closer match to the mess of wildflowers just beyond the mews, sir.”
Then we rounded the curve toward the house and slowed. I sank back into the plush seat as an army of liveried servants watched us approach. Here was my first test, and I felt sorely unprepared. He’d made it seem so easy, but how would they not know? Surely something would give me away.
“Don’t look them in the eyes.” Prendergast lowered his voice as the carriage slowed before the arched entrance set into a tower. “They’ll think it odd. Simply bow and smile as if you’re the queen greeting her subjects and go along inside. Walk with slow grace, as if wading through water. The only task before you now is to be seen, be poised, then be hidden in your chamber. And try not to say a word until we’ve polished your speech.”
I couldn’t stop trembling. Lady Enderly wouldn’t have trembled. “I’m n
ot a queen.”
“Queen Esther then.” He shot the words out in a low whisper as the driver came ’round for us. “Be Queen Esther. Just hold your composure until you’re alone in your suite of rooms and keep your tongue in your head.”
Lifting my chin, I took the driver’s hand and stepped down onto crushed gravel, glancing at the two long rows of servants watching me with expectancy. The fine gown embracing me brought a weighty peace to my body as I strode toward the house. Birds trilled, wings whipping the air as they flitted about the expansive estate so far removed from the chaos of city life. With poise created by tight lacing and a hat angled smartly on my head, I glided up the drive as if wading through imaginary water, yet my heart pounded madly beneath my traveling gown. The pond on my left would be the perfect place to practice wading. If only I were swimming in it now.
A tall balding man with an affable face stepped forward and bowed. “Welcome to Rothburne, your ladyship.”
“Burt Bradford, butler.” Prendergast gave a slight head bow to the man. “He’s kept the place running for you quite well.”
“Mrs. Langston, the housekeeper, and I would like to meet with you to discuss your stay when you find yourself available.”
Prendergast opened his smiling mouth to answer. Before I knew it, my response rolled out with the smooth edges I’d used to read high-brow poetry with Sully in terribly dramatic voices on the tenement steps. “Wonderful idea, Bradford. I believe my schedule has an opening at ten in the morning, on the morrow. Would that suit?” I softened the dramatics, and it came out with surprising elegance and flavor.
The utter shock that paled poor Prendergast’s smiling face was nearly my undoing, for once I’d rendered the man speechless, I dearly wished to have a great laugh over it.
To my delight, Bradford smiled mildly as if my imitation of all the ladies and lords I’d met rang true to what he expected. “We will make anything suit, my lady.” A formal bow punctuated the end of his statement.
Before I had to decide what to do next, a hand guided me forward with gentle pressure on my arm. Chin lifted, I cast a lofty, distant smile to no one in particular and walked toward the house. Like a rolling ocean wave, each servant dipped in a bow or curtsy as I passed, no one looking me in the eyes. The effect of my presence on these strangers buoyed my confidence tenfold. He’d been right. It was working. All was well.
No, all was amazing.
Then suddenly it wasn’t. I straightened and my keen eye registered a glimpse of dark hair that jarred me with its familiarity. My heart shuddered. I saw only a trace of his profile farther up the row of servants, but there was no avoiding him. I stilled the tremor in my stomach as my guide introduced the rest of the staff, but none of the names remained with me.
Suddenly made awkward by my jittery nerves, I kicked out my skirt hem with each step, focusing all my energy on not tripping, yet fearing it was inevitable. My heart fluttered uncontrollably and I wondered what would become of me if I dropped dead just now. Would that great God Sully spoke of laud my courage or rail at my deception?
But when I neared the servant who’d caught my eye, I looked upon a completely foreign face whose only similarity was dark hair and eyebrows. A glassy, benign expression replaced the jovial one I would expect from the man I knew, and features quite different than Sully’s stared back at me. Relief and utter despair pulsed through me, and I forced my quivering limbs to carry me forward past this servant introduced as the footman.
It must be my overly sensitive conscience making me believe I saw him everywhere. He never would have liked this plan, and well I knew it.
I passed under a tall stone corridor, swept up the three flagstone steps, and into the square tower. The abbey opened into a magnificent entry space with two-story leaded windows and a great chandelier gleaming over gray-brown stones. Vases of red poppies contrasted with the ancient building that seemed to ring with the somber utterances of the monks who had once inhabited the place. A bit like a crypt, but still grand in its own austere way.
So this was the countess’s abbey. With Victor Prendergast caught in conversation outside, I wandered through the arches to the left and down a wide tiled hall. Candlelight from brass chandeliers highlighted the dark stones of the walls. I jumped at the sight of beady little eyes staring at me from the shadows, but found it was only a statue of some small creature on a shelf recessed into the wall. Not quite gargoyle, yet not at all angelic, the being seemed to be both growling and leering.
I lingered in the hall until I heard Prendergast’s voice as he entered the house with the butler and strode down a different hallway. I had to retrieve my carpetbag still, and Sully’s precious letters would be the perfect end to this day. Yet when I found Prendergast in a study near the front, my question was met with awkward silence. The tall man seemed so small in that room of elegant, gilded-edged doors and velvet-draped windows. “You’ve no need of your old things now, have you? Certainly you cannot wish to wear those rags when you have—”
“It isn’t the rags, Mr. Prendergast. I have other belongings in the bag, and they are very personal.”
He studied my face, the power of his gaze once again arresting me. “That is precisely why we had to be rid of them. What do you think would happen if they were found?”
Panic tightened my chest. “What have you done with them?” All those letters—my beautiful letters full of Sully’s affection. They were the only love letters I’d ever had. I studied the man’s profile with a fierce disgust that would not be contained, as if he’d been personally responsible for the Great Gale that had torn Sully from me.
His tense jaw twitched, and he looked over at the ancient wall mural to my right. “I disposed of them.” He turned to leave, disregarding my anguish.
I marched toward him. “How dare you—”
He spun with a powerful flare of anger and grabbed my arms. I glimpsed behind those wild eyes all the violence he was capable of, and it terrified me.
“Let me remind you only one of us is in charge of this operation, and it isn’t you.” His terse, low words stabbed at my senses. “Carrying on this way will bring every servant in this house running, thinking you’ve gone mad. They’ll soon know the ugly truth—which will be whatever I tell them—and they will ship you out, or worse. Your things are gone, and so is your old life. It is in your best interest to control yourself, and I implore you to do so by whatever means necessary.”
“You’re keeping me prisoner.” I steeled myself and spoke the quiet words like a challenge for him to deny.
He stepped back, releasing me, yet his gaze did not. His low voice wrapped around me tighter and tighter, cinching about my throat until I couldn’t swallow. “Walk home if you wish. I won’t prevent you. It’s over one hundred miles and will take you the better part of a week, but by all means, you are free to take your chances among the ruffians between here and town.” His bright eyes snapped. “Just remember, the world may not miss one more noble lady, as you say, but even less will it miss yet another penniless waif.” His jaw twitched. Even the muscles in his face were hard as rock. “Do not wear out your favor with me, Countess, for you won’t like what you find beneath it.”
I stiffened, but a distant sound stilled the fight in the Spitalfields lass. The happy squeaks of a fiddle drifted in through the open window, seeping into my tense muscles and loosening them in spite of myself, flooding me with precious memories in the midst of the chaos about me.
My heart had exploded, hadn’t it? Exploded and left little pieces of Sully all over for me to find in random places. Maybe it was God’s way of comforting me. That stranger in the blue cap at the station, the dark-haired footman, and now the fiddle music. Perhaps I was losing my mind. Or perhaps . . . perhaps . . .
Prendergast moved closer to me than any man except Sully had ever stood. I could feel the warm breath from his flared nostrils. “I do not tolerate mistakes, even small ones. No one must even guess at the truth, or it’ll all be over. You must rel
ease every part of your past, as if it never happened. Is that understood?”
I forced a swallow and nodded as the sounds of the violin continued to drift through the open window.
Yet I wasn’t entirely sure my past would agree to remain hidden.
6
Every new day chips away at the person we were, slowly revealing who we were always meant to be lying dormant beneath.
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
This is your suite, my lady. I hope we’ve readied it sufficiently. Your orders were carried out to the letter.”
“Thank you, Bradford.” I shifted under the weight of this new order-giving persona and smiled at the butler. He’d come to my rescue when I’d wandered into the salon on the second floor and kindly shown me to my bedchamber. One needed a candle to proceed through the dim hallways anyway, he’d said with a gracious smile.
Now he placed a hand on the door latch but paused, thoughts churning behind his shadowed face. “I wanted to express, my lady, on behalf of the entire estate, that we are gratified at your presence among us. We all wish you to know that we are always available should you need us. For anything at all.” His words, heavy with deeper meaning, descended into my deepest nerves and left them unsettled. “The earl is well known to all of us, and very little would surprise the abbey staff. Just know you may call upon us for anything.”
I forced a smile, steeling myself against the guilt that gnawed at me when I looked into this servant’s kindly face. I hadn’t spoken one untrue word, as Prendergast had promised, yet the weight of deception settled heavily on my tender conscience, especially in the presence of this gentle giant who meant to be my protector.
Before I could respond, his placid smile smoothed right over the memory of those weighty words as if they’d never been spoken. “Tea will be ready shortly. Shall I send someone to help you dress?”
I exhaled. “Yes. That would be lovely.”
Finding Lady Enderly Page 5
