by C. J. Archer
I came up beside her and looked out the arch window. I could just see the lake and the ruins off to one side. Beyond that were wooded hills and little else. The village the cousins had spoken of must be in another direction. My soul thrilled at the sight of a new vista, so different from the one I had stared at every day for years. Yet I felt a stab of sorrow and the cold lump of unease too. I might never see the view over Windamere's park again.
"How old is this place?" I asked. Talking about the history of Frakingham might keep my nerves under control. Hopefully.
"The estate itself is ancient. People have been living and worshipping here for centuries." She pointed at the ruins. "That was Frakingham Abbey. It belonged to the Cistercian order, but was abandoned and fell into ruin around the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries. It's rather a pleasant place to picnic now in the summertime."
"It looks eerie."
"I suppose it does." She looked at my crossed arms as I hugged myself. "Don't worry. There are no ghosts here that we know of. Indeed, this building is only about sixty years old, although you wouldn't know it."
"I thought it was medieval."
"Not at all. The previous Lord Frakingham wanted a grand house built in the Gothic style. He bankrupted the estate in the process, and his heir had to sell it when the place began to need repairs."
"Your uncle bought it?"
She tilted her chin and her eyes flashed. "He did. He's a self-made man, Uncle August. He worked his way up from nothing to be able to afford this. The son of a grocer now living in the same house that a lord built. Imagine that!"
"Yes, imagine." I had no idea how expensive it would be to buy something on the scale of Frakingham, but it must be considerable. Few Englishmen who hadn't been born into the upper echelons of society could afford it. No wonder Sylvia was proud of her uncle. "I'd like to meet him. Now, if you please." Commanding her allowed me to command my own trepidation as the full extent of my situation sank in. Well, to a certain extent at least.
Sylvia bristled. "Demands won't get you anywhere with Uncle. As it happens, he wants to see you immediately anyway. Let's get you ready." She spun me around and scanned me from head to toe. "These clothes are so drab. They won't do. Uncle August expects women of your status to dress accordingly. He likes order, you see." Her nimble fingers unbuttoned my jacket. "Servants ought to dress like servants, shopkeepers like shopkeepers and ladies like ladies. I'm surprised your father doesn't too. I'd have thought an earl would be more of a stickler for these things than Uncle."
"Who knows what Lord Wade thinks," I muttered as I allowed her to take off my jacket. There was no point in arguing with her, either about who my father may or may not be or about what I should wear to meet her uncle.
The prospect of meeting him filled me with foreboding. What sort of man inspired a nice girl like Sylvia to fumble nervously with the hooks and eyes on my dress? What sort of man had his niece and nephew kidnap for him?
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Also by C.J. Archer
SERIES WITH 2 OR MORE BOOKS
Glass and Steele
The Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy
The 1st Freak House Trilogy
The 2nd Freak House Trilogy
The 3rd Freak House Trilogy
The Ministry of Curiosities Series
The Assassins Guild Series
Lord Hawkesbury's Players Series
The Witchblade Chronicles
SINGLE TITLES NOT IN A SERIES
Courting His Countess
Surrender
Redemption
The Mercenary's Price
About the Author
C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She spent her early childhood in the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, Australia, but now lives in suburban Melbourne with her husband, two children and a mischievous black & white cat named Coco.
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