Shrouded Passions

by Faye Hall

  Elizabeth glared at him. “The stupid bint tried to make me wear a green dress! Lady Harold hates green!”

  Devon nodded at what he was hearing, knowing it had become the usual over the last few years. “Are these people so important that you had to resort the poor young girl to tears though?”

  “They are the Lord and Lady Harold,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “They are one of the most prestigious families in this town.”

  Devon shook his head at his wife’s continued shallowness. Grabbing a full bottle of brandy, he walked toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” she screamed at him. “The Harolds will be here any minute!”

  Devon shrugged. “That is your problem, Elizabeth, not mine.”

  Leaving his wife’s room, Devon went in search of the young handmaiden he’d rescued. He wished he could explain Elizabeth’s behavior to the servants, but even he didn’t understand it fully. She was always a selfish woman, had been for as long as he’d known her, but now she seemed almost desperate to hang onto what she had, not caring whom she destroyed along the way.

  Hearing sobs coming from behind the already opened door of the young handmaiden’s room, Devon softly knocked. Swinging back the door, he looked inside to see the tearful girl packing her things.

  “You could stay, Jane,” Devon said, leaning in the doorway.

  The young girl continued throwing her belongings into her few bags. “Why should I?”

  “You need the money, Jane.”

  Fastening her bags, Jane grabbed them from the small bed. “Not that much, I don’t.”

  “You do,” Devon said as she drew near to him. “We both know you do.”

  Jane stopped level with him, her pale green eyes looking up at him desperately. “I don’t want to leave you, Devon. I would stay if you asked me to.”

  He held her stare for some time, knowing what this young girl was offering him. Knowing that now more than ever he couldn’t take it. Slowly, he stepped back out of the doorway, allowing her room to walk.

  “I’m sure a young girl such as yourself could find work at any other estate here in Brandon,” he muttered. “I would be happy to give you an excellent recommendation.”

  Jane glared at him, her stare pained. “You and that cold-hearted bitch in there deserve each other!”

  Devon watched as the young handmaiden stormed away from him, wondering over her words and just how right they may well be.­

  * * * *

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Munroy,” a very nervous sounding servant addressed Elizabeth from the doorway of her room. “But there is a young woman here to see you.”

  Expecting it to be her handmaiden come groveling back for her position, Elizabeth nodded. “Show her in.”

  Watching as the young woman walked into her room, Elizabeth dismissed the servant. Waiting until the door was shut, Elizabeth eyed her guest carefully, studying the yellowness of her hair.

  “And who are you?” she asked quite rudely, well aware by her attire that she was a working girl. “More to the point, what do you want?”

  The woman smiled cockily. “I saw you kill that man out near the scrublands, Mrs. Munroy. And if you don’t pay what I ask then I will go to the police.”

  Elizabeth eyed the young woman carefully, unsure just how much she knew. “You will need proof to give the police if you want them to believe you, miss. Proof you just don’t have.”

  The woman reached into her bodice and pulled fourth an initialed blood-stained handkerchief. “You dropped this that night.”

  Anger filled Elizabeth at having made such a stupid mistake. Still, she wouldn’t let her weakness show.

  “It seems you are mistaken, miss. That isn’t mine and I will be telling the police the same thing. If you go to them with that blood-stained rag, then I will simply explain that you stole it from me, wanting to frame me for the murder of that poor boy.”

  “It is yours!” The younger woman’s anger grew. “I saw what you did to him!”

  Elizabeth smiled, walking toward the woman. “Now calm down, miss. You have just made a simple mistake that I am willing to overlook. Now, I will walk you out to your carriage.”­

  * * * *

  Lotte snuck into the Munroy estate and made her way cautiously down to Devon’s study. She didn’t know what she would find. Part of her didn’t care. She just wanted to see him; she needed to.

  Spending the night with Devon at the hotel had reignited lingering feelings, but it also filled her with so many new ones, ones she never knew existed before.

  She was almost at the study when she heard a door shut down the hallway and a woman’s voice talking. Keeping out of the light, Lotte walked toward the voices, wondering whom it would be at this late hour. She was shocked to see Elizabeth leading Delphine, one of the girls from the Pioneer Hotel, out the rear of the estate house. Suspicious of what exactly was happening, Lotte carefully followed the two women outside into the gardens of the estate.

  Nearing them, she listened in to the conflict happening between them.

  “You really should have checked your facts before coming here, miss,” Elizabeth said calmly as she stopped and waited for Delphine to catch up to her. “No doubt your intentions were honorable, but I fear very misguided.”

  The young working girl stopped, lifting her gaze to look at her. “I know you killed that man, and I can prove it.”

  Elizabeth smiled at the girl, her hands reaching into the pockets of her skirt. “My driver will take you home now, miss.”

  Delphine turned and opened the door of the waiting carriage. “I’m going to the police station and see what they think of my proof.”

  Lotte watched as Elizabeth pulled a blade from her pocket. “You’re not going anywhere, you little whore!” Elizabeth screamed, the blade she was holding lifting to the young girl’s throat and slicing deep into the skin.

  Covering her mouth with both hands, Lotte struggled to stifle her scream. She watched as Elizabeth pushed the dead body away from her to the ground.

  “Get rid of it!” Elizabeth yelled to her driver, turning and retreating back toward the house.

  Fearful she would be found, Lotte turned to flee. Hearing the loose leaves rustling under her feet, her fear grew.

  “Who’s there?” Elizabeth yelled. Her knife again rose as she hurried toward where Lotte was standing.

  Panic filling her, Lotte quickly ran and hid behind the servant’s quarters of the estate. Holding her breath, fearful of being found, Lotte waited, hoping Elizabeth would give up the chase.

  She didn’t. Lotte could hear Elizabeth’s footsteps nearing her and her breath caught in her throat.

  “Edgar, get the other servants and search these grounds. There’s someone out here and I want them found now!”

  Lotte waited, watching as Elizabeth then turned and walked back into the house.

  “Get the dogs out if you have to!” Elizabeth yelled as she entered the back of the house.

  Lotte knew if she were to escape this night she had to move quickly and quietly. Keeping to the darkness, she ran as fast as she could back toward the town and the Pioneer Hotel.

  She ran into the back of the hotel, quickly shutting the door behind her, gasping for breath.

  “Lotte, what has happened? Are you all right?” Patrick asked, rushing toward his sister.

  “S-she killed h-her,” Lotte stuttered, still gasping for breath, tears of fear threatening. “E-Elizabeth. She killed her.”

  Holding his sister against him, Patrick guided her toward a chair, calling for one of the working girls to get some water.

  “Lotte, what are you talking about?” he asked, trying to make sense of her ramblings.

  Taking the glass of water, Lotte gulped the contents down. Just then Abby, the madam of the hotel, came around the corner, rushing toward the younger woman.

  “Are you all right, Lotte?” Abby asked. “What has happened?”

  Lotte fell against the madam for support. “S-she killed h
er. She slit her throat. I watched her.”

  Abby held her supportively. “Honey, you need to tell us what you saw.”

  Lotte pulled away from her, her gaze moving between Patrick and Abby. “Elizabeth killed Delphine. She cut her throat.”

  “Are you sure?” Abby asked.

  Lotte nodded. “I saw her, Abby. I saw her.”

  “How did you see her, Lotte?” Patrick asked, his look stern.

  Lotte avoided her brother’s stare, knowing the questions that would follow should she answer him.

  “Damn it, Lotte!” Patrick raised his voice. “You went to that house again, didn’t you?”

  Lotte finally turned to her brother. “She killed Delphine! Damn it, Patrick. Elizabeth has killed many more just to keep her secret, to keep her money!”

  “Then you need to stay away from that house! More importantly, you need to stay away from Elizabeth.” Patrick’s frustration with his sister was obviously growing. “God damn it, Lotte. She tried to kill you once. Don’t give her a chance to finish what she started.”

  “I’m the only one who can prove Elizabeth is the one murdering those people, that she’s the one who murdered our father,” Lotte tried to explain.

  Patrick shook his head. “If you aren’t careful, you will prove her guilt by becoming her victim.”

  Turning away from her brother, Lotte faced the madam. “I think I’ve found a way into the estate, Abby. The servants are leaving her estate, saying she’s impossible to work for. Even her handmaiden has left her. If I could work for her, I might be able to find the proof I need.”

  “You are not a servant!” Patrick yelled at his sister. “And I’ll be buggered if you resort to being a servant for that woman!”

  “I have to, Patrick,” Lotte exclaimed. “I have to do this. She can’t keep getting away with what she’s doing, with what she’s done. She has to pay for taking all those people’s lives.”

  Patrick eyed his sister. “For taking away all those people, or for taking Devon away from you?” he asked. “Are you doing this for them, or because Elizabeth married the man you were sleeping with all those years ago?”

  Standing slowly, Lotte walked over to him, slapping him hard across the cheek. “You are a bastard sometimes, Patrick.”

  “Why?” he asked her, seemingly ignoring her minor assault. “Because I want you to live?”

  “Live?” Lotte spat at him. “This isn’t living. You think I like this life? You think I like hiding in this hotel, sneaking out to see Devon whenever I think you won’t notice I’m gone?”

  Patrick’s gaze narrowed. “What do you mean you’ve been sneaking out to see him?”

  “I want my life back, Patrick!” Lotte yelled at him. “Why can’t you understand that? I want the life Elizabeth took from me the night she shot me.”

  Patrick looked unamused. “And you’re going to get this life back by becoming a servant to Elizabeth?”

  Lotte nodded.

  “And what happens when Elizabeth recognizes you?” Patrick asked. “What happens when Andrew Hult recognizes you? Have you forgotten he still works for the Munroys?”

  “I haven’t forgotten about Andrew,” Lotte replied. “How could I when the man saved my life?”

  Patrick tried to stare his sister down, but she wouldn’t let him.

  “I’m doing this, Patrick, with or without your permission.”

  He shook his head at his sister. “I hope it’s worth it, Lotte. I hope Devon is worth it.”

  Her brother walked away from them then, and Lotte turned to Abby. “I need to do this, Abby. I have to.”

  Abby nodded. “I know, honey, but your brother has a point. What if Elizabeth recognizes you?”

  “She won’t,” Lotte replied. “We only met a couple of times prior to my shooting so she’ll just think I look like every other woman in the town with Irish ancestors.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Abby asked.

  “Because you and the girls are going to make sure I don’t stand out and she can’t draw an immediate connection to the girl I used to be,” Lotte told him. “I also need references from some well-known families, references Elizabeth won’t be able to ignore.”

  Abby smiled. “Pretty sure most men that come here will sign any piece of paper I wave in front of them if it guarantees their wives never learn of their regular visits here.”

  * * * *

  The following morning, dressed in a simple servant’s attire, her red hair tied back loosely in a bun, Lotte walked toward the Munroy estate. In her hand she held several signed references from some of the most prestigious families in the district.

  Knocking on the door, Lotte thought back to her brother’s warning and began to wonder if she was indeed doing the right thing.­

  Chapter 17

  Elizabeth watched as the butler showed the young woman into her study.

  “Who are you?” she asked abruptly.

  The woman curtsied humbly. “My name is Lotte, Mrs. Munroy. I heard you were in need of a new handmaiden.”

  “Aren’t you a tad old to be seeking a job as a handmaiden?” Elizabeth asked, slightly suspicious of the woman before her and her reason for being there.

  Lotte handed her the slips of paper she was holding. “I’ve worked for some of the best families here in Brandon, Mrs. Munroy. I know each family’s likes and dislikes. I can also help you get invites to the best parties and functions.”

  Elizabeth looked over the references she held in her hands before glancing up to the woman before her. “You seem vaguely familiar,” Elizabeth remarked, studying her. “What did you say your name was?”

  “My name is Lotte.”

  “Lotte?” Elizabeth asked.

  She nodded. “It’s an extremely common name back in my hometown of Bowen.”

  Elizabeth eyed her carefully for a second, studying the familiar redness of her hair. It was so like that of her previous handmaiden; so like so many other women in this town. Turning away from her, Elizabeth returned her attention to the names of references she held in her hand.

  “You say you worked for these families?” Elizabeth asked. “The Harolds, the Grassos, the Pivas. These are some of the wealthiest and most prestigious families in Brandon. Most are founding members of the town.”

  Lotte nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I worked for them all.”

  “Prove it,” Elizabeth demanded.

  Lotte stepped forward. “Lady Harold despises the color green. Mr. Grasso prefers the company of his male servants over his wife in his bed. Mrs. Piva has been sleeping with her gardener for the past four years and despises roses even though her husband showers her in them.”

  Elizabeth didn’t answer her. She couldn’t answer her.

  “Please, Mrs. Munroy,” Lotte begged her. “I just want a chance to work for one of the most sought after women in Brandon.”

  Looking at this woman, Elizabeth saw more than just a handmaiden. She saw her as a ticket into the lives of some of the most prestigious families in the area.

  “Show yourself around the estate before you leave, Lotte. I can’t have a handmaiden who keeps getting lost.”­

  * * * *

  Being dismissed by Elizabeth, Lotte did as she was bid and began to walk around the lavishly furnished estate house. Though she was already familiar with the rooms and to whom they belonged to, Lotte knew she had to look the part of a new servant needing to find their way around their new workplace.

  Though she had never worked as a servant, Lotte had spent much of her time with them growing up at her father’s estate, often helping them with their chores. She doubted Elizabeth would be as easy to work for as her father had been, but Lotte would make herself cope with whatever torture Elizabeth put her through. She had to if she were to ever stay in this house long enough to find the proof she needed against this woman. After all, that was her reason for being there and for lowering herself to a servant’s life, wasn’t it?

  Rounding the corner, Lotte looked up
ahead at the door before her, her heart skipping a beat and her breath catching in her throat. In this moment, Lotte admitted her brother was right; Elizabeth wasn’t her only reason for coming to work at the Munroy estate.

  Going to the door, Lotte laid her palm flat against the cold solid wood, her thoughts going to the man she knew to be inside.

  Every night, Lotte came to the estate seeking out Devon, she found him in his study, often near unconscious from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed. She was told by the girls at the Pioneer Hotel of his recent love for alcohol, but never had she thought it to be this bad. When she asked the girls why Devon now drowned himself in liquor instead of accompanying his wife to her many social events, they told her he blamed himself for the death of his lover, only living now for the bottle.

  Lotte knew Patrick was right, and that she was being cruel not telling Devon the truth of her surviving the gun wound to her chest, but she knew too there could be no other way. If Devon were to learn the truth, Lotte had no doubt about the mountains of questions that would follow, questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Lotte accepted that should Devon learn the truth, should he start asking questions about the past, there would be little room left for the passion she still craved to share with him. With these questions would also follow truths about Elizabeth, truths she wasn’t sure Devon knew or even cared to know.

  Lotte grasped the door handle firmly in her palm, opening the door barely a crack. She wondered if Devon knew all his wife had done to get to the social position she was in today. Lotte wondered if he would have still married Elizabeth had he known of the people she’d killed. She even wondered if Devon ever learned that it was Elizabeth that had shot her that night.

  In truth, Lotte didn’t know the answer to any of these questions. She doubted she ever would. All she knew for certain was the fire Devon ignited inside of her now was far greater than she remembered it ever being when first they were lovers. What she shared with Devon in the Pioneer Hotel was so unlike any other she had shared with him before and it scared her a little. She expected old feelings to be reignited once she laid with Devon again. But this, what she was feeling now, was nothing like she ever felt for Devon before.