Cora sat between Hugh and Andrew Morgan, facing her siblings. A servant poured her some tea and placed a scone on her plate. Hugh passed her a heaping bowl of clotted cream, his eyes lingering on her with fascination. Will shifted uncomfortably. There was no way that Hugh Morgan was the right man for Cora.
The girls ignored her. Perhaps they didn’t know what to say. Uncle Stuart had had a firm word with Vivian that morning, telling her that what had happened here last night could not happen again. If it did, the Kensingtons and Morgans would part ways for the duration of the tour. They had to pull this out by the root, or it would continue to spread like a weed, growing into ever-new areas, destroying opportunity after opportunity. Vivian had been horrified at the thought of not being with the Morgans. They all knew she was looking forward to a romantic proposal somewhere along the way, despite Andrew’s efforts to keep his intentions a secret.
Uncle Stuart cleared his throat. “We shall be moving to a hotel for the next few days, so after breakfast, please return to your rooms and see that the servants gather your things. While we enjoyed the duke and duchess’s hospitality last night, it’s been made clear that we would be better served moving to other quarters until we embark on our voyage to France.”
Cora’s blue eyes flashed toward Will as she finished her breakfast. She was clearly worried, even if she was covering it well. Was this just the beginning of their trials? He popped the last bit of his scone into his mouth and excused himself, following Cora as she rose to leave.
She walked only to the corner of the patio. Her long, strong-but-graceful fingers gripped the marble balustrade as if for strength.
“You should send me home,” she said as soon as he neared her. She didn’t look his way, only stared out.
He stood beside her, looking out onto the grand lawn, the conservatory, the gardens—more a forest—that stretched for acres. “Your father wished you to stay. It’s for the best.”
“Even after last night,” she said, more as a statement of confirmation than a question.
“Even after last night,” he confirmed.
“You…you’re moving us to another location today. Resolving our immediate issue. But this will happen again.”
“I doubt it. It might challenge us here and there, and when it does, we shall intercede again. We lack no resource, Cora. Your father and Mr. Morgan have given us a healthy account to fund the trip. Even if we must stay in hotels and cottages and villas that we rent, all the way.”
She sighed and looked out again. “My father’s asked a great deal of me.”
“He has.”
“I don’t think I’m up to the task.”
“Does it matter that I disagree?”
Her silence told him what he needed to know.
“I will destroy the Kensingtons’ and Morgans’ chances among respected society,” she said. “Make them pariahs as well as myself.”
“You are a Kensington,” he said. “Your presence will help them discover who is truly worthy of respect, as well as a measure of self-respect.” He paused and looked at her, reaching inside his jacket pocket. “Cora.”
Slowly, she met his gaze.
“Your father—Mr. Kensington—asked me to give this to you. When the moment was right.” He slid an envelope out of his pocket. Running his thumb over the smooth vellum, he offered it to her. “He foresaw this moment.”
She stared at the envelope as if afraid to take it. After a moment of hesitation, she finally did so, but slowly.
Will gave her a smile of encouragement and then left her alone to read it.
Cora
I took a deep breath and then slid my finger under the red wax, breaking the seal stamp, cracking the regal K. I pulled out the single sheet and unfolded it, staring out at the woods, wondering if I had the courage to read what Mr. Kensington had written. To find out what he had to say, when he apparently couldn’t say it to my face. But curiosity won out.
My dear Cora,
So you’ve reached a juncture in which your parentage has come to light and the road now seems impossible. I assure you that any obstacle can be overcome, given time. They are momentary challenges, nothing more. I ask that you find your way forward, Daughter, not for me, but for you.
Your heritage is what it is, Cora. I urge you to make the most of it rather than let it hinder your progress. Let the challenge of the hills refine you as you climb them. The question isn’t how society defines you, nor how I define you, but rather how God defines you, and in turn, how you yourself want to be defined.
When this summer is over, when you are free to go your own way, who will Cora Kensington be? Claim the name, or leave it behind. All I care is that you take what you deserve out of this life. Take the resources I’ve laid at your feet, and make the most of them.
I stared out to the trees again, thinking over his words, surprised by them as well as challenged. I imagined him here, stubbornly meeting my gaze, daring me to defy him. Blue eyes so like mine…
I pray you will understand me one day, Cora, at least in some measure. I’m a sinner, through and through. And as you’ve experienced, the repercussions of those sins haunt me and those I love every day. But I’ve made my peace with my family and my Maker. I suggest you do too.
Best,
Wallace Kensington
CHAPTER 19
Cora
I trailed the rest of the group the next day, still pondering my father’s words as we toured the Parliament building, the Palace of Westminster. It was all well and good that Mr. Kensington could take the stand as a sinner who’d made peace with God, but he had left me to roil in the repercussions of that sin on my own.
I envied the ease my siblings had in their own skins. I missed that in myself. I’d always thought of myself as poised, secure. What had happened to that? I stood at a large window, looking out at the Thames. It was as if I had once been a riverbank, standing strong, but my confidence had eroded with repeated flooding—the battle to scrape by and bring in another harvest, my papa’s illness, and finally, the Kensington wave. Wallace Kensington befuddled me. Just when I felt I had deciphered who he was and what he was about, he turned it upside down.
“Are you all right?” Felix said, standing beside me.
I jumped, having not noticed my brother was there until he’d spoken. I glanced down the hall. About a hundred yards away, the group was gathered before a portrait, and the bear was waxing on about it.
“I care very little for art,” Felix whispered. “Bring on the parties and dances, the strolls among the gardens, the boat rides. Portraits of dead politicians? I’d rather stab myself repeatedly with a fork.” He turned his back to the group and made a stabbing motion. I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand and ducking my head so the others wouldn’t see.
“I’d rather see more mummies in the British Museum, myself,” I said. I was desperate to keep him by my side, to feel like I had a friend. Few in the group had spoken a word to me since we left the duke and duchess’s palace the day before. Felix gestured forward, and I stepped into pace with him.
“Sorry it’s been a rough start for you, Cora,” he said. “Our family’s all right, once you find your footing with them.”
My eyes moved toward Vivian. “I’m not sure I’ll find it with all of them. Before we reached England, I’d hoped… But it seems more distant than ever.”
“You will,” he reassured. “In time. Keep in mind that it’s almost as monumental for us as it was for you to learn of our family bonds.”
I considered that. From the start, all I’d felt from Vivian was resentment. But if I were in her place, what would I be feeling? She had been so little when our father had fraternized with my mother. Yes, it was a union between two adults. But as a daughter, there had to be a part of her that wondered why she wasn’t enough to keep his heart at home. Why he couldn’t remain faithful to her as well as to her mother.
My eyes moved to Vivian, her hand resting in the crook of Andrew’s elbow. She
was pretty enough. Light-brown hair, hazel eyes, pert nose, rosebud lips. But take her out of her fine gowns, and she was far from glamorous. It was her demeanor—lifted chin, shoulders back—that made her seem refined, taller than I, even though we were about the same height.
I realized I’d stopped walking, and Felix stopped with me. He followed my gaze. The group was moving on. He offered his arm, and I hesitantly took it. “You’ve wounded her pride,” he said. “Besmirched the family name. Not that we haven’t seen that happen before.”
I glanced up at him in surprise. “Before?”
“Ah, yes. You can’t be a child of a copper king and not hear some foul things about your father over the years. But always before it was about distant subjects—his business practices or his political ambitions.”
He caught my confused look. “Greasing the palms of so-and-so and the like,” he said. “Buying what he could not attain through traditional routes.”
“Ahh,” I said. Felix was referring to the stories of a purchased senate seat, competitors driven away from Butte, and the like. Up until a few weeks ago, they were only stories of people living far different lives in a far different place. Irrelevant to my life on the farm. Now I wished I’d studied them, knew every detail.
“We’re a rather tight group, the Morgans and Kensingtons, because our fathers are so tight,” he said. “Together, they built an empire. And in the shadow of their legacy, we share the same triumphs, the same threats.”
I ruminated over his words. In the shadow of their legacy. Did Felix feel incapacitated, incapable of ever competing with his father’s accomplishments, so therefore unmotivated to move at all? I glanced at him. He was hardly ready to delve into such personal matters as that with me. He was speaking off the cuff, without really thinking about it. Trying to draw me in, make me feel included. But something else in his words bothered me. “What do you mean by threats?” I asked.
The group ahead of us was poised around a Greek statue of a man, the younger girls tittering over his naked form.
Felix looked chagrined. “Forgive me. I’ve alarmed you.”
“No. I am merely curious. Of what do you speak?”
He gave me a rather quizzical look. “Do you really believe that our group of seven needs three guides?”
I looked toward the bear, Will, and Antonio. “Well, no. But Will is apprenticing, is he not? And Antonio, is he not the expert on Italy?”
“Indeed,” he said, giving me a conspiratorial grin. “But with us being abroad, neither my father nor Mr. Morgan were willing to take any chances.”
I thought back to that first night in Butte, and how Will followed me, protected me. How he always seemed to be nearby. If he was always watching like that…it suddenly felt cloying rather than reassuring. Back home, I’d gone for long walks among the fields, climbing the sprawling hill in the back of our property and resting beneath a giant oak, where I could see for miles. Often, I was the only person within sight, and I’d liked that. In that place, I could breathe deeply. Rest. How long had it been since I’d experienced such a feeling? “Do you fear we might be harmed, Felix?”
“Me?” he said, raising dark eyebrows in surprise. “No. But with four women along, it’s wise to take caution.”
We rejoined the group, and when Vivian looked at us, I gently dropped my hand from Felix’s arm. If she and I were to find our way, I’d need to make it as easy as possible. And for the first time, I again had hope that it just might be possible. Making a bit of an effort to stand in her shoes, in Felix’s, in Lillian’s, had granted me empathy, which in turn had torn down some of the wall between us. Thank You, Lord, I prayed silently. Might You help them tear down some of that wall too?
Vivian gave me such a hard look then that I almost laughed aloud. It was as if she had heard my silent prayer and was disgusted.
The bear led us to the massive doors of Westminster Hall, and we peered inside. Our guide nodded at Will.
“When it was built in 1097,” Will said, “it was the largest hall in all of Europe. Originally, the roof was probably supported by pillars, but during the reign of Richard II, it was replaced with the hammer-beam form you see now, allowing the three aisles to become one massive space, with a dais at the end. Still today, it is the grandest example of medieval clear-span roof structure in Europe. In 1824—”
“In 1834,” his uncle corrected.
“In 1834,” Will said smoothly, with a nod of deference toward him, “a fire broke out, which destroyed both houses of Parliament, as well as most of the major buildings in the complex. Thanks to a change in the direction of the wind and heroic firefighting, Westminster Hall was spared.”
“As were the cloisters, the Jewel Tower, and the Chapel of St. Mary Undercroft,” the bear added.
“King William tried to get them to take Buckingham Palace—a residence he did not care for—but tradition led them to rebuild.”
The bear nodded in satisfaction, and he gestured for the group to follow him. We stopped next in the Central Lobby, right beneath the great chandelier, and the older man said, “Here we are in what has been called the political center of all of Britain. From here, when the doors open, you can see the royal throne and the speaker’s chair. Through this hall, every principal politician and monarch travels.”
I stared up to the roof, with its venetian glass displaying emblems and heraldry. I wondered what our family crest would be. A young crow, learning to soar like an eagle? An owl, hunting at night as others slept? The heraldic crests seemed to speak of older, established families—with sedate, languid lions and medieval armory. It was little wonder that the clans with bloodlines that ran back hundreds of years felt they had greater presence than the newcomers. And a group of Americans? We were little more than a novelty to them, I was certain. Something to gossip about. And I was the center of that.
We moved down a hall and learned that the complex had over a thousand rooms. The younger girls were whispering over the queen’s robing room, wishing they had a chance to slip on the ermine-collared ruby-red robe, “just for a moment,” Lillian mused. It was then that I noticed we were missing a couple in our group. I turned to look for Andrew and Vivian. Had they not realized we’d moved on?
A pang of fear shot through me as I thought about Felix’s words. What would happen if the eldest from each of our families was captured? What would kidnappers do to them? I turned and took several steps back, looking into one alcove after another.
It was then I spied them. Standing just to one side of a doorway in a lovely sitting room. Andrew’s arm was around her waist. I could see the shoulder and back of her beautiful rust-colored gown, and I knew they were sharing a moment of intimacy. I was turning to escape, feeling foolish, when Vivian straightened and looked my way, as if sensing they were not alone. Our eyes met, and quick fury entered hers.
“Can we not slip away for but a moment without you following us?” she said.
“I…I only…never mind.” I turned to hurry away, heat rushing through my face and down my neck.
Will’s eyes narrowed as I neared, and Felix covered a laugh, obviously recognizing what had just gone on. I tried to concentrate on what the bear was saying, to get my mind off of what I’d done.
But all I could think about was the ever-widening gulf between Vivian and me. Why should I attempt to befriend a woman who so clearly despised me?
And yet she was the key. If I could find a way, a way to bridge the gap, the others would be far more accessible too. Any obstacle can be overcome, Mr. Kensington had said.
But had he been thinking of Vivian when he wrote that?
CHAPTER 20
William
With the group weary of history, art, politics, and religion, Will’s uncle wisely prescribed an afternoon in the countryside, hiring mounts at a stable and taking the rest of the day in a beautiful park. But then, complaining of his rheumatism, Uncle Stuart had left the picnic and ride in “Will’s capable hands.” Will groaned when he found o
ut, but their young clients had donned riding costumes and assembled in order. A groomsman led the way down a pebble path, while Will and Antonio brought up the rear of their group. All appeared to be in order. Exquisite order, Will thought, chastising himself for allowing his eyes to wander over the slim legs and curves of the young women ahead of them, particularly Cora’s.
It didn’t help that Antonio nudged him and gestured with his chin at what Will had already noticed. Righteous indignation ran through him, with a quick shot of shame following close behind. “Mind your manners, man,” he growled, saying to Antonio what he was telling himself. Antonio’s black eyes widened in surprise at his gruff answer, and then his face eased into a knowing smile.
Perhaps women were best served to always be in gowns, Will thought. Bathing suits and jodhpurs only led a man’s mind to wander.
They reached the stables and entered the building where the mounts were saddled and ready. With relief, Will and Antonio set down the heavy baskets carrying a picnic the maids at the cottage had packed for them.
Will watched the stable hands help the women mount, feeling tension waft through him, especially as a man placed Cora’s boot in a stirrup, his hand lingering on her calf. She was paying no attention, however, her eyes going to Vivian again and again. He knew they had had some sort of exchange the day before in the Parliament building. He didn’t know what it was about—only that, ever since, Cora had stayed on the opposite side of the group from Vivian.
He gazed around. The stables advertised that they only had the finest mounts for hire, which was what drew his attention yesterday when he’d been organizing the expedition. But that meant the horses were high-spirited, and three were struggling for control—Vivian’s, Cora’s, and Hugh’s.
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