The door closed, and Jolene stood in the middle of the comfortable quarters that would take her to Paris. The trip would take two days and one night. They would arrive in Paris, change trains to Calais and take a ship for their trip across the English Channel.
She organized her few items, slipped off her outer coat, and hung it inside a small closet. As she stood thinking of what lie ahead, the train jerked forward catching her off guard. She stumbled back and landed on the plush, wide seat. The sensation of the train with its rolling wheels reminded her of ice-skating. It glided effortlessly as it left the station and then increased in speed causing a slight swaying motion inside the cabin. It took her a minute to adjust. The windows afforded an excellent view of the scenery.
Jolene sensed her heart flutter. It felt as if a thousand butterflies spread their wings underneath her breastbone. Frightened over the sensation, she brought her hand to her chest and inhaled a deep breath. The moment had arrived, and the world lay before her to explore. A knock came at the door, and she rose to answer it. When she slid the door back, a tall man in uniform stood before her. She read the tag on his chest—Conductor.
“May I see your ticket, madam?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, spinning around trying to remember what in the world she had done with it. After rifling through her purse and not finding it, she brought her hand to her head and held it there for a moment.
“Forgive me,” she said, “But I can’t seem to remember what I did with it.”
He frowned.
Her eyes glanced at the closet. Finally, she remembered she had shoved it in her coat pocket. “Oh, I remember,” she announced, opening the door and retrieving the ticket. “Here you go.”
The conductor examined the document, punched a hole in it, and gave it back. “Enjoy your trip to Paris,” he said, tipping his hat. He continued down to the next door and knocked on it.
Jolene retreated inside. She placed the ticket back in her purse, reminding herself where to find it when they boarded the train for Calais. Obviously, the trip had already affected her ability to think straight, but it didn’t matter. She knew nothing would be the same again.
* * * *
After a leisurely dinner alone in the opulent dining car, Maria joined her at her cabin to ready her for bed. Her maid expressed the warm décor and flavorsome food in the standard coach.
“Oh, my lady, thank you for bringing me on this trip. Did you see the beautiful scenery of the mountains and valleys? It was breathtaking.”
“Indeed I did and think of the wonders that await us in the months ahead.”
Maria had finished her tasks and returned to her own car but not before making her bed and fluffing her pillow. They bid each other goodnight, and Jolene dimmed the lights and crawled under the covers. After pulling them underneath her chin, she lay upon her back and looked at the ceiling above.
She listened to the click-click rhythmic sound of the train underneath her body. It sounded oddly comforting lulling her to sleep. She closed her eyes and an odd sensation of having lived this moment before filled her heart. Had this been what people referred to as déjà vu?
Distressed by the emotions that she didn’t understand, she turned on her side and eventually fell asleep. Rather than a peaceful rest, she had been ushered amongst ghostly figures hovering above her face. A young woman with blonde hair stroked the side of her head softly. Jolene tossed in bed struggling with the vision of drinking warm milk to fill her belly. A rocking motion and soft voices tried to comfort her discontent. Then the screeching of a baby’s voice woke her out of a sound sleep.
The mournful wail startled her, and Jolene flung herself upward into a sitting position. She brought her hand to her chest and felt the pounding of her heart through her nightshirt. The sound of a crying baby had awakened her from sleep. Perhaps a child resided in the cabin next to her, she thought. Jolene kept still, waiting to hear the cry again but only the constant click-click of the train taking her to France remained.
Afraid of the dark, as if ghosts lingered in the shadowy corners of her cabin, she reached over and turned on the small lamp by her bedside. Her eyes anxiously glanced about, but no one was there. She exhaled a sigh, closed her eyes, and ran her hand through her damp hair. The action stirred up the memory of the letter that lay in the bottom of her purse.
“We boarded a train. . .”
“Dear God,” Jolene moaned holding her head. “It must be my overactive mind playing tricks on me,” she tried to convince herself. But a troubled tear welled in her eye instead. For a few minutes, she sat quietly in bed pondering the sensation of having lived this moment before.
Frustrated and hesitant to return to the dark memories of dreams, she opened the curtain of her window. Picking up her watch by her nightstand, she noted the time. It was four o’clock in the morning, and she had no desire to return to the mysterious dreams that might reoccur. In a few hours, the dawn would break over the horizon, and a long day of travel lay ahead.
Her exciting trip had been tainted with foreboding of what she would find in London. Would she meet the woman who penned the letter? Would she confirm the allegations that threatened to destroy her identity? Jolene wrung her cold hands together and stared out the window contemplating her future.
Chapter 3
Like Father - Like Son
The whip cracked hard on the hindquarters of the horse. It snorted and lurched forward into a full run pounding its hooves into the grassy, wet plain.
“Come on, Moon Shadow,” yelled its rider. He kicked the stallion with his heels to urge him onward.
The black, English thoroughbred thundered across the ground. The mile competition to the finish line would be a test of speed and endurance. The young rider was determined to win at all costs, confident he owned the best horse in the district. It wasn’t long before he passed three riders vying for the finish line.
“Damn you, Holland!” A competitor screamed as he sped by the last one.
Robert let out a husky laugh. He turned around and waved at the rider, baring his white teeth in jest. “Come on, boy.” He held the reins tightly in his hands. “Let’s win that prize at the end.”
Another kick and his horse obeyed the command. Robert could see the finish line in the distance and the parasols of pretty women with bonny hats all lined up to watch who would win the bet.
He flew like the wind across the finish line and called his horse to a halt. “Whoa boy!” Moon Shadow obeyed his command when he pulled back on the reigns. “I knew you could do it,” he said. Robert leaned over and pet the sweaty neck of his horse, who snorted and stomped his foot in reply.
Finally, the losers behind him crossed the finish line. “Damn you, Holland,” shrieked the rider. “You and that blasted horse of yours.”
“Oh, you’re just jealous, Alastair, get over it,” he roared in amusement. “It’s your own fault for riding that old mount of yours. It’s time to put him out to pasture.”
Alastair jumped off his horse and walked over to his friend. “I say chap, that’s the last time I challenge you to anything when it comes to that horse. Poker next time, that’s for damn sure.”
“I’ll lose for sure,” Robert grimaced. “Lady Luck only visits me during horse races, not card games.”
Robert eyed the ladies, who giggled like a bunch of school girls huddled together. He sported a wicked smile of victory. “Time to pick my prize,” he announced. He strode over to the three beauties and eyed them up and down with delight.
“Now, which one of you fine young women would like to have lunch with me?”
Felicity Wade sputtered with a broad smile. “Me, Robert, choose me.”
“And why should I choose you Lady Wade above these two other fine girls?” He stepped closer to her beautiful figure in a yellow dress that shimmered in the noonday sun.
“Whatever she says, Robert, don’t listen to her. She’s just a flirt.” Tiffany Bain, a sassy looking young redhead, tugged on h
is sleeve pouting with her plump ruby lips.
Felicity threw Tiffany a smug look and brashly reached over and grabbed Robert’s hand. “Because you are a bad boy, and I am a bad girl.”
Robert couldn’t suppress the roar that burst from his throat. Her two competitors glared at their rival with such disdain it was sheer entertainment.
“Bad boy and bad girl it is, then.” Robert pulled Felicity off to the side. “Sorry ladies, I like the brash ones.” Tiffany stomped her foot like a spoiled brat and flashed a disapproving glare.
“Alastair,” Robert shouted. “There are two ladies left for the picking. I’ve chosen my prize.” He leaned over and gave Felicity a soft kiss on her cheek. She giggled over his brazenness. Robert walked back to the Holland estate with two possessions in tow—his beloved horse and his prized lady friend.
“I dare say, Robert,” she said, tightly clinging to his hand. “You are looking quite chipper having won the race. I don’t think the other boys are too pleased they have lost again.”
“Well, you would think by now they would have enough sense not to challenge me, wouldn’t you? Moon Shadow is unbeatable. There will never be another to beat this beauty,” he said, gloating with pride.
“Do you think I’m a beauty?” Felicity asked with a coy grin.
Robert smirked at her forthrightness. “Indeed, a beauty,” he replied. “And I damn well intend on stealing a kiss from you Felicity Wade after I have a bite of lunch.”
“Oh, Robert, why wait for lunch? Steal one now.”
Robert halted his step and looked at the silly, auburn-haired girl. She would be a good pick for an afternoon of fun, but there wasn’t an ounce of sense in her empty head. Felicity’s desperation to catch him in matrimony stood out like her shiny nose in the sun. Nevertheless, her perfume enticed him to pull her into his arms and give to her what she wanted.
“Bad girl, indeed,” he said. He gawked at her lower than respectable neckline for an afternoon dress. “I’d love to smother those pink lips of yours, Felicity, but not here. If you look up to the west wing, you’ll see my father staring down at the two of us from his perch above.”
Robert turned his head and looked up at his father watching the two of them as they stood upon the manicured lawn.
“Now be a good girl and wave your hand with me.” Robert lifted his arm and waved back at his father. Felicity peeked from under the rim of her hat and lifted her eyes to the window. She gritted her teeth, grinned, and waved her white gloved hand in the duke’s direction.
“Now I am nervous,” Felicity said. “He probably thinks I have a reputation,” she said. A moment later, his father retreated from view.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let us get a bite to eat with my stuffy parents. Then we’ll go hide somewhere, and I’ll give you that kiss,” he said. He winked at her with an air of mischievous intent.
Robert returned his horse to the stables and ordered the groom to give Moon Shadow an apple and sugar cube in reward for winning him the treat of the day.
“Don’t allow my father intimidate you or my mother, for that matter,” he advised her as they strode toward the entrance to the Holland country manor.
“Okay,” she said, sheepishly.
As they neared the door, Felicity slowed behind him. Robert flashed a smile and grabbed her hand pulling her reluctant, cute frame through the door. A maid met them and offered to take Felicity’s hat. She unpinned it and handed it over. Afterward she fiddled with a loose strand from her hairdo.
“You look fine.” Robert grasped her hand once more and led her to the dining room. Felicity eyes darted from left to right, and her mouth dropped open. The usual Holland ancestral eyes from the hanging portraits followed them down the hallway. Robert pulled his mouth to one side and ignored the ghosts of propriety frowning at his carefree afternoon.
They stepped into the formal dining room and were greeted by his parents. His father stood to his feet upon seeing Felicity enter the room. His mother lifted her eyes in his direction flashing a surprised look.
“Mother, Father,” he said, nodding in his parent’s direction. “I would like to introduce you to Lady Wade.”
“Lady Wade,” his father said, nodding in return. “Welcome.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she answered, giving a quick curtsy that looked off balance. Robert grabbed her arm to prevent her from falling over from nerves. He lowered his eyes and shook his head with a silly grin upon his face. The girl is such a simpleton, he thought to himself, but probably a decent kisser.
“I hope you don’t mind. I invited Felicity to lunch because she’s the prize I won at the race.”
“Prize?” His mother repeated. She watched the couple as he pulled out a chair for Felicity.
“The boys’ race, Suzette,” his father replied. “You know, the lads and their friendly competitions, though I think Robert knows no one can beat his horse.”
“I do,” he said, puffing out his chest. “They should know by now I’ll always win.”
“And you are the prize, Felicity?” His mother raised a brow of disapproval.
“Oh, yes,” she replied with a broad smile.
“The prize was lunch with me,” Robert clarified. He glanced at Felicity whose swan-like neck had filled with red blotches of embarrassment. “She is not the prize if you get my meaning,” he said. He gave Felicity a wink and then flashed a smile at both of his parents trying to make light of the situation.
His mother frowned. She had become the proper duchess throughout the years, he mused, pulling his mouth to one side and ignoring her gaze. The fun-loving woman he knew as a young boy in France had been transformed by the house of propriety and duty.
“Oh, I see. Well, that doesn’t sound quite as improper as winning her for your pleasure,” his father announced glibly.
“Don’t embarrass her any more than needed,” he retorted, irked by the inference. Robert glanced at Felicity, who now looked as red as the roses on the table centerpiece. His father cleared his throat and expressed his usual impatience. Robert’s exuberant countenance faded as if a cloud drizzled over his head.
The footmen served the meal. It wasn’t long after he had taken a few bites when his father began his usual interrogation.
“Have you made a decision about what we discussed earlier?” The duke kept his eyes upon his plate while waiting for a reply.
Truth be told, he hadn’t made a decision. After university, he still hadn’t decided what he wanted to do with his life. Frankly, he wondered why he had to do anything. He had a generous allowance and the free time to pursue his interests. After years of studying at Oxford, he needed to rest his cluttered mind.
However, his father kept reminding him that the Holland fortune had dwindled in years past. If he expected to keep the Holland manor after the duke’s demise, he had better think about how he would support his lavish lifestyle.
Of course, Robert thought marrying a rich woman might do the trick. He had heard rumors that a few young men in society had courted and married wealthy ladies from America who were looking to wed aristocrats. Being a twenty-three-year-old available male sounded more appealing than practicing law in London.
He finally responded to his father. “Perhaps, but I’d rather not speak of it here in front of our guest.” As soon as he declared his intent, the usual tension between father and son filled the room. It didn’t take but a moment’s time for his mother to come to the rescue, as usual.
“Lady Wade, why don’t you tell us a little something about yourself and your family?”
Thank you, mother, Robert thought to himself as he glanced over at the stately duke poking at his food in irritation. At one time, Robert had been especially close to his father. At seven years of age when he learned the truth about his parentage, he accepted him with the simplicity of a child’s mind. As he grew older, both of their bullheaded notions began to clash. Each incident drove them farther apart. The man, who once wooed him with a pony to buy his affec
tions at five years of age, had no more tricks up his sleeve to control him any longer.
In retrospect, occasionally he would think of Philippe Moreau, who had been his stepfather for the first five years of his life. The last vivid memory he had of his stepfather had been the whipping he got for pushing over his sister’s crib. Robert always chuckled at the thought of his jealous and mischievous act. However, the thrill quickly diminished when he remembered the black belt that repeatedly met his bare bottom.
He often pondered whether his mother knew of her ex-husband’s whereabouts. She never mentioned him or talked about her history with his stepfather. In some respects, his mother remained a mystery. She had carefully given him only small glimpses into her French background and kept secrets of her youth locked away.
Then, of course, there was the unspeakable matter of his lost sister, who had been kidnapped at the age of three months. No one dared to approach that subject. It had been banned from discussion. Whenever mentioned by his own lips, Robert would be told not to upset his mother. You would think after eighteen years she would have healed from the tragedy, but it appeared she never would.
Robert’s mind became aware that Felicity still chatted on and on like an annoying bird about her boring family. When the droll became unbearable, he decided to move things along. Robert finished lunch, refused any dessert from the footman, and took advantage of the opportunity to spirit his prize off elsewhere.
“Fine lunch,” he remarked. He rose to his feet and offered his hand to Felicity. “Let us take that afternoon walk we talked about.” He flashed a sly smile clutching her hand tightly.
“Oh, okay,” she obediently replied. She turned toward his parents before departure. “It was a pleasure meeting Your Graces.” Felicity smiled, dipped in another curtsy, and Robert pulled her out the door before the “Graces” could give a proper goodbye.
“Now, you are all mine little lady,” he teased. He placed his arm brashly around her waist. She giggled in anticipation while Robert led her out the door to a secluded spot on the estate. He fully planned to lay her beneath a tree and kiss her until her lips swelled.
The Price of Love Page 4
