by Jane Charles
Madeline couldn’t ever remember her mother sounding this angry or bitter, not even when she was vexed.
“He informed me that he wanted Julia back so that he could match her with Lord Purlingham.”
Madeline’s stomach churned. The viscount was older than her father had been. And even though she knew nothing about Julia, especially since she thought her half-sister had been dead for the past twenty-three years, Madeline couldn’t imagine any young woman of eighteen would wish to marry someone that old. It was no different than her only Season. Did Father never wish to match his daughters with younger lords?
“They disappeared after that,” Jordan offered.
“Yes,” mother agreed. “All of those years he had been sending funds to France to support the two when all the while letting me and the rest of society believe that he had been widowed a second time and that Julia had died.”
Her mother wasn’t just bitter, she sounded hurt and angry.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Matthew asked.
“What was there to say? All four of you boys loved your stepmother and Julia. I didn’t know if you would seek her out. And, I also didn’t want you hurt by her betrayal. She is the one who ran away.” Mother sighed and Madeline leaned closer to the door.
“We already knew she was running away the night she supposedly died,” Matthew offered.
“How?” Her mother questioned.” I am certain your father didn’t tell you.”
“Clay saw her leaving and tried to make her stay.”
“Do you know why she left?”
Madeline leaned a little closer. It had to have been something very important, perhaps scandalous because ladies did not just up and leave their titled husband, especially with a child in tow.
“Do you?” Jordan countered.
“Your father said she was running off to meet her lover, but I never truly believed that.”
“He started taking the switch to Julia before she was even two.”
Madeline suppressed her own memory of Father swatting her.
“I was afraid it was something like that. I have vague recollections of Adele, before she married your father. Our parents were friends. She would not have stood for her child being struck.”
“You did,” Jordan stated coldly.
It wasn’t Mother’s fault, Madeline wanted to yell, but didn’t dare bring attention to herself.
“Rarely, and the first time he struck her she was seven.”
“How did you avoid it for so long?” Matthew asked.
“I never let Madeline leave the nursery. After I saw how he punished you boys for the mildest infraction, I couldn’t risk him doing that to a much younger child.” She sighed.” I tried to intervene where you boys were concerned, but sometimes I made it worse. I am sorry for that.”
“Yet, you did nothing when you learned the truth about Adele,” Matthew pointed out.
“I didn’t know what to do. And then there was the fear that if anyone learned, I would be ruined, but it wasn’t about me.”
“No. You wanted to protect Madeline,” Jordan confirmed.
“If anyone learns that my marriage was not valid they will paint Madeline a bastard and society will turn on her. She is innocent in all of this and doesn’t deserve to have doors shut on her.”
Madeline grasped the wall to steady herself as the floor swayed before her. She was a bastard, born on the wrong side of the blanket. That thought hadn’t even entered her mind when she heard Adele was still alive.
“You are innocent of any wrong doing as well,” Matthew offered.
“I was until I learned,” Mother sighed. “But I am just as guilty for holding my tongue after he told me the truth.”
“You had to protect your daughter.”
“Which I still intend to do,” she said with vengeance.
“There could be a problem,” Jordan hedged.
“What? Has something happened?” There was a slight hint of panic in her voice.
“Adele and Julia left France some months ago. They were tracked to Scotland but we no longer know where they are,” Jordan explained.
“We thought you should know so that you could be prepared in the event they show up in London.”
Madeline’s heart stopped. They couldn’t come here.
“Do you think she would?” Mother asked with the same panic Madeline was experiencing.
“We don’t know what they will do, but John has been looking for them.” Matt answered. ”She must have learned that father died and there is no reason for her to remain away.”
“We must stop her. She can’t come here. Not until Madeline is married.” She could hear the rustle of her mother’s skirt. The woman was always the calmest person she knew, but Madeline could hear her moving about the room. She stood in the event her mother was about to walk into the hall. She couldn’t be caught. “Please refill my glass, Jordan.”
Madeline brought a hand up to her mouth. Her heart raced and she looked around for an escape. Oh, nothing good came from listening at doors.
“As long as Madeline never learns, or anyone else, we don’t have to worry.”
Madeline paced inside her guest bedchamber. She couldn’t think clearly. Everything she knew about her life was a lie. She wasn’t a lady. She was a bastard child.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She knew well enough the lot in life those who were born on the wrong side of the blanket would suffer. Or at least she had heard enough rumors. It was far harder for a female than a man. Women became servants, mistresses or worse, and never good enough to marry a gentleman.
Breathing was becoming difficult, and her chest felt tight. Madeline rushed to the window, opened it wide, and stuck out her head. She attempted to take deep breaths, but it was no use. She slammed it closed and resumed her pacing.
She had to think, and she couldn’t do it in a room that grew smaller with each pass she made in front of the fire. She kicked off her slippers, grabbed her boots, and pushed her feet inside before pulling her heaviest cloak from the armoire. A quick brisk walk would clear her head and then she could think again. There really was no reason to panic and as soon as she calmed, she would be able to make sense of the situation and find a solution. She grabbed her gloves and muff off the table and marched to the door.
Madeline pulled it open and stuck her head out into the hall. Thankfully, it was absent of any family. Quietly closing it behind her, Madeline tiptoed down the hall to the servant’s stairs to the kitchen. With careful steps, she slowly edged her way down, praying nobody heard her. It wasn’t as if she were doing anything wrong, but she wanted no company on her walk, and her mother or brothers may object to her going out in the snow. But she didn’t intend to go far; she just needed to be free of this suffocating house.
She held her breath and peeked around the door. Nobody was in the kitchen, so she hurried across the room and was out the door before anyone came back. Madeline paused and took a deep breath before she walked toward the front drive. The snow was up to her ankles but not so deep that she couldn’t walk through it. The temperature wasn’t all that cold either. It was a little brisk, and damp given the snow, but not so cold as one could not stay out for very long.
Outside there was nothing but silence. Not that there was much noise to begin with given Matt and Grace lived farther away from town, but it was as quiet as the dead of night with the snow blanketing the earth. She couldn’t even hear the chickens, horses or cows. It was as if the world slumbered around her.
Madeline picked her way along the drive and toward the road. She didn’t watch for carriages because she doubted any would be out. Soon the snow would be too deep for even horses, but she intended to be back at the house long before then. All she needed was time to think matters through.
She was a bastard.
As her father was a lord and her brothers loved her, Madeline knew she would not go without the comforts she had become accustomed to. But if society learned the truth, she woul
d be forced to live on the fringes of the ton. She might not even be able to return to London. What would be the point? It wasn’t as if she would be invited to any balls.
With no balls she wouldn’t meet a proper gentleman. But once her status became known, they wouldn’t offer marriage anyway.
Madeline tilted her chin to her chest as the wind picked up, and she shoved her hands inside the muff. She had to think.
Her future had been set not only a few hours ago. Or, plans for her future were in place but it had all evaporated as quickly as the snowflakes landing on her arm. What was she to do with the rest of her life? There would be no more balls, no gentlemen wishing to court her, no wedding at St. Paul’s and no home of her own. She would grow old, a spinster, on the shelf before she was old enough to be there. When her mother died, which she hoped was years from now, she would be passed from one family member to another. She would watch as her brothers raised their families never knowing the love of a gentleman, or to hold her own child in her arms.
It wasn’t fair!
But, what if nobody ever knew? What if Adele and Julia didn’t come to England? What if they sailed for America or someplace else far away? There was no reason to think she would be in London.
Yet, even if they didn’t surface, was it fair to marry a gentleman without him knowing the truth?
No, she couldn’t do that. And despite all the great loves she read in novels, she doubted any lord would remain betrothed to her once he knew the truth, not in a society where bloodlines meant everything. There was too much risk of society ever learning. Which meant there was no reason to go into society every again.
She wouldn’t ever dance again, or flirt, or ride in Hyde Park.
Madeline glanced up and looked around. Where was she?
She turned back the way she had come, but her footprints were long erased by the deepening snow. It was past her ankles and slipping into her boots. She needed to get back to Matt’s house, but what direction was it.
She was surrounded by trees and there was no sign of the road she had been on. Had she veered off it while she walked, unaware she was doing so?
Madeline couldn’t even remember looking around. She had simply walked with her head down, putting one foot in front of the other and now she was lost. Worse, it was getting dark.
She stood in the middle of what appeared to be nowhere and listened. There had to be a sound that would cut through the silence that she could follow. Closing her eyes, she concentrated to hear.
Her eyes popped open. Was that a horse?
Madeline picked her way through the trees. There had to be a house here somewhere, or a road. Once she found either, someone could direct her home.
Lights blinked through the trees. They weren’t very close but at least it was something she could focus on and began walking in that direction. Snow fell into her boots and her feet were freezing. The wind picked up and Madeline became aware of how cold she really was. Mother would kill her if she became ill. But on the bright side, she wouldn’t be able to travel to Danby Castle. Besides, bastards shouldn’t celebrate Christmas with dukes, even if they were related by marriage.
She broke through the trees and at the top of a small hill stood a large manor house. Lights were lit in a few rooms on the lower floor at the end of the house. The rest was dark. Thank goodness someone was home and hopefully they wouldn’t mind a stranger intruding on what was probably a peaceful night.
Madeline began walking faster. The lawn sloped down before it climbed up again, and she hurried toward the lights. She needed to be out of this cold.
Her foot hit a hard surface and slipped, but Madeline was able to catch herself before falling. Perhaps there was a terrace beneath the snow. She took a few more steps, walking more carefully so as not to fall. A moment later, a crack disturbed the silence. The ground beneath her opened and she was engulfed into frigid water. Her head went under before she had a chance to scream.
Lachlan leaned back in his chair, cradling a glass of whisky and looked out the window while he waited for Dougal to make his next move. The man played chess slower than a turtle moving across the sand.
Was there someone on his lawn? Lachlan stood and walked closer to the window as the figure of a woman in a long, rose cloak moved from the trees toward his home? What was someone doing out in this weather? Had her carriage gotten stuck?
“Dougal, is that a woman?”
He sensed his friend behind him. “Aye, and if she isna careful, she is goin’ to . . .” Before Dougal could finish his sentence, the woman crashed through the ice on the pond.
“Grab a rope,” Lachlan shouted as he ran for the door.
The snow was even deeper than Lachlan thought, and it was difficult to run even in this short distance. The woman’s head came above the water but went down a second time. He had to get to her. What if he hadn’t been watching? She could have drowned and they wouldn’t have found her until next spring. That would have been an unpleasant discovery.
Her head came up a second time and this time she looked up. Their eyes met and held. Hers were full of terror and his were probably no different. He fought the drifts and ran as fast as he could, reaching her before she went under again. Kneeling on the ground, he reached for the pale, blond woman. She tried to reach a hand to him, their fingers brushed but he couldn’t grab hold. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips began to turn blue as she sank again. He could hear Dougal rushing from the barn. Lachlan lay on his belly and stretched as far has he could and snagged the cloak. He didn’t want to strangle the lass but he couldn’t let her go under again. What if she didn’t emerge? And, he couldn’t go out further onto the ice because it was liable to shatter beneath his weight.
With all of his might he hauled the hood of the cloak out of the water, bringing the young woman with him. “Hold on, lass. I’ve got ye.”
Without being told, Dougal bent and tied the rope around Lachlan’s waist.
“Is it tight?”
“I’ve got ye.”
Inch by inch Lachlan eased out over the ice. It splintered beneath him but it didn’t break. The closer he got to where the woman had fallen through the further he was able to drag her from the water. When he reached the edge, he let go and clasped both arms around her chest and hauled her up against him.
The ice beneath him shattered. The woman screamed. Lachlan pulled the woman tightly against him as they both sank beneath the surface. His feet touched bottom but the water was still above his head. He pushed off and kicked his feet until they surfaced again and he swam back to the edge with the help of Dougal pulling him. When he could finally touch ground without sinking, Lachlan lifted the woman in his arms and carried her out of the lake. Dougal cut the wet rope from his body and it fell into the snow.
He had never been so cold before in his life. Every part of him shook. He glanced down at the young woman. She lay limp in his arms, unconscious and deathly pale. Lachlan lifted her head and put his cheek close to her mouth and nose. She still breathed but they were not deep breaths. He had to get her warm.
“Hurry ahead and build the fire up in my room. Have Mrs. MacGinnis heat some water for tea, and have a maid prepare a bath.”
Lachlan trudged through the snow, moving as quickly as he could while Dougal ran ahead and into the house. The heat engulfed Lachlan when he stepped inside, and he paused briefly in front of the fireplace to try and absorb some of its warmth. His garments, as well as the young woman’s, dripped onto the parquet floor and a puddle was quickly forming around this feet. He had to get them both out of these wet clothes before they caught their death.
Her lips still held a bluish tint and her skin was as pale as the snow outside. He needed to get her dry and warm before he saw to his own comfort. She had been in the frigid water much longer, and she was smaller and lighter than he. Blond hair hung loosely behind her head and a green ribbon was knotted in the strands. It had probably been tied in a pretty bow before she took her swim.
&n
bsp; As much as he hated to leave the warmth, Lachlan pulled himself away from the fire and made his way to the foyer and took the stairs two at a time until he reached the landing and hurried down the hall to his bedchamber. He couldn’t think of where else to put her, knowing this room would be the warmest. Of course, Dougal’s room would have been warm as well, but he didn’t want her in Dougal’s room. Although he certainly shouldn’t have her in his own, all the remaining chambers were closed up with cold hearths. She needed heat.
Lachlan paused after stepping inside of the room. He couldn’t lay her on the bed because then that would be wet as well. Instead, he marched to a chaise and laid her gently upon it before dragging the piece of furniture before the fire. He didn’t care if the fabric was ruined as he never had need for such an item. It was a frivolous piece of furniture for women in his mind, and Lachlan wasn’t quite sure why there was one in the master chamber, unless it was for the ladies his uncle had entertained when he was younger. The fabric was old and faded. Maybe the old man kept it around for nostalgic purposes. Regardless, it would be ruined after tonight and he wouldn’t be replacing it.
Dougal ran into the room and stopped.
“Help me.” Lachlan lifted her to a sitting position. “Pull her cloak off.”
Dougal slid the heavy, soaked material from her body and let it drop to the floor with a thump.
Lachlan laid her back down and moved to her feet. He unlaced her sodden kid boots and placed them before the fire before looking up at Dougal.
“I need a maid,” Lachlan barked. He had to get the young woman out of these wet clothes. She hadn’t stopped shivering since he dragged her from the lake. A few times she opened her eyes and looked at him, but they always closed again, as if she didn’t have the will to keep them open. Though he was far from a gentleman on occasion, he knew he shouldn’t be the one undressing the young woman.
“We doona have any.”
“What do ye mean we doona have any maids? There were at least a dozen this morning.” Truthfully, he had no idea how many servants worked within Brachton Manor. They were quiet and the place was clean, as was his clothing so he didn’t really pay much attention.
