by Merry Farmer
Ellie hurried off. She didn’t even try to stand up to Olympia. There would have been no point in accusing the woman of spilling her tea on purpose. Not when she was in the middle of telling Lady Howsden’s friends about growing up as a princess.
By the time Ellie reached the tea table—where, fortunately, one of the maids saw her coming and was ready with a damp cloth—Ellie was nearly in tears.
“Why did I think I could do this?” she whispered, blinking rapidly to stop the tears as she dabbed at the tea staining her sleeve and the side of her dress.
“You’re doing a bang-up job, miss,” the maid whispered back. “Don’t let the nobs get you down. We’re all rooting for you.”
Surprised, Ellie glanced up at the girl. She thought that her name was Daisy, but she hadn’t taken the time to learn the servants’ names as well as she should. “Do you think?” she asked, ashamed of how small her voice was.
Daisy nodded. “You get in there and show that harpy of a princess that nice ladies like you are worth a dozen of her paste crowns.”
“Paste crowns?” Ellie blinked. At least confusion stopped her from bursting into tears.
Daisy looked as though she’d stepped out of line. That didn’t stop her from leaning in and whispering, “The princess’s jewels. They’re all paste.” When Ellie continued to look confused, she went on with. “They’re fake, miss. The lot of ’em. Very good fakes, mind, but when a stone popped out the other day as Lucy was trying to clean one of them tiaras, she saw the truth of it.”
“Oh.” Ellie handed the wet cloth back to Daisy as the other maid at the table, Marion, fixed her a new cup of tea. “I had no idea.” She had no idea the maids would be savvy to those sorts of things. Then again, Betsy knew more than she did about everything.
“We’re all behind you, miss,” Marion said as she handed over the fresh cup of tea. “We all like you much better ’n her.” She nodded toward Olympia—who was laughing over something Lady Richter had said—with a scowl.
“You need anything else, you come to us,” Daisy said with a wink. Both she and Marion had to melt back into the background, their expressions neutral, as a pair of chattering middle-aged women approached the table.
Ellie smiled, lifted the teacup to take a sip, and smiled again. Marion had put an extra lump of sugar in it, just the way Ellie liked. The entire, brief exchange warmed her heart and gave her the courage to head back into battle.
But as she was pulled into a group that was discussing plans for an upcoming charity bazar to benefit underprivileged women in the nearby town of St. Albans, her heart sank once more.
“It’s a shame, the depravity those women are forced to sink to,” one sharp-faced lady—whose name Ellie hadn’t heard and, frankly, didn’t care to know—said. “And all because they refuse to apply themselves.”
“Yes, it’s a disgrace,” her red-headed friend said. “I mean, how difficult could it be to find gainful employment somewhere?”
“There are an abundance of factory jobs these days,” a third woman, who wore a huge sapphire brooch pinned to her brocade gown added. “I don’t see why any woman would possibly choose—” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “—prostitution—” She raised it again. “Over honest, hard work.”
“Laziness, that’s what it is,” the sharp-faced lady said. “Pure laziness.”
Ellie clenched her jaw, her anger so acute that her hand shook, causing her teacup to rattle in its saucer. These women had no concept of how little a woman could earn working in a factory. They had no idea what the conditions in most factories were like, or that in places where men and women worked together, a woman’s chances of being assaulted when the boss wasn’t looking were astounding. They had no idea what bosses could do to women if they wanted to, or that they could withhold wages until they got what they wanted. And that was assuming a woman hadn’t already been forced to sell the one commodity she had. Once that was done, not even the worst factory would hire her.
“I don’t know why we bother to hold these events to raise money for them in the first place,” the red-head went on. “It’s a shame they stopped transporting vagrants like that to Australia.”
“Excuse me,” Ellie said, her voice hoarse. She turned and walked away from the conversation without another look for any of the women. She kept walking, not sure where she was going.
The worst part of it was, those women’s views were not uncommon. They stretched beyond Albany Court, beyond the high-class set of England, beyond geography in general. These people who had so much didn’t have a clue what the lives of those who had so little were like. That was why people like Bonnie and Theophilus Gunn and Mrs. Elspeth Strong—who had come from these sorts of people but somehow managed not to be tainted by them—were so special and wonderful.
Bonnie, Mr. Gunn, Mrs. Strong. Ellie’s heart squeezed tight in her chest. How she missed them! She missed Domenica and Pearl Pettigrew—who loved being a whore and helped the others who liked a man between their legs now and then not feel bad about themselves. Lady Howsden’s friends would snort in disgust at the entire town of Haskell, but that was where Ellie had spent the happiest days of her life. That was where she belonged. That was home.
“I don’t belong here,” she said, the truth of it hitting her like a stampede. “I don’t belong here at all.”
“What was that, dear?”
Ellie hadn’t realized that she’d been standing near to Lady Howsden, or that she’d spoken her realization so loudly. She stopped short, turning to Henry’s mother with wide eyes. How could she possibly explain? How could she do what her heart was now screaming at her to do without hurting this woman, whom she’d come to like and admire so much? And what about Henry? She loved him. That much was clear to her no matter how wrong everything else was. But how could anything possibly come of that love when they were as different as chalk and cheese?
“I’m sorry, Lady Howsden,” Ellie said, handing the woman her teacup. “I’m so, so sorry, but I have to go.”
“Go, my dear?” Lady Howsden asked, worry and a touch of sorrow filling her expression.
A distant rumble of thunder cut through the chatty mood of the garden party, sending a ripple of worried exclamations through the ladies. Lady Howsden glanced over her shoulder at her guests, and Ellie took the opportunity to pick up her skirts and run for the house. Thunder sounded again as she neared the open French doors that led from the gardens to the downstairs receiving room.
“Is everything all right, miss?” George, one of the footmen asked as Ellie tore past him into the house.
She didn’t have a chance to answer. Mr. Poole marched into the room, saying, “Looks like we’re about to be rained out. Have Nate, Tom, and Gary start bringing in the tables and chairs. We can situate Lady Howsden’s guests in the conservatory and continue.”
Ellie was glad she’d bolted. Attempting to socialize with those women in the wide outdoors was one thing, but being trapped in a room with them would have done in the last of her sanity.
Not that she was certain she had any sanity left. She rushed up to her room, bolted straight into the closet, and pushed past the racks of fine gowns Lady Howsden had given her to find the suitcase full of her real clothes. As fast as she could with all of the elaborate hooks and buttons of her imposter’s clothes, she undressed, then threw on the simplest, most comfortable of her real clothes that she had.
“I’m sorry, Henry,” she said as she packed up the few things that genuinely belonged to her. “I love you, I do, but I can’t do this. I can’t live like this.”
She’d been a fool to let herself hope that they’d find some way around the divide in their stations yesterday after he’d kissed her. When she was with him, everything seemed possible. But when she was stuck in his world without him, the simple fact that she wasn’t meant for this kind of life, she wasn’t meant for this world, was all too clear. Love could only carry you so far.
With her suitcase packed, Ellie flopped into t
he chair at her vanity and pulled out a sheet of the frilly stationary she’d been so amused to find when she’d first been given the room. She took up the pen and dashed off what could very well be her final words to the only man she would ever truly love.
“Dear Henry,
“I’m so terribly sorry, but the events of your mother’s garden party have proved to me that this will never work. It isn’t just your father we’ve been trying to fool by pretending I’m someone I’m not. It’s us too. I’m just a simple American girl who has made mistakes and is trying to better herself. But I can’t better myself enough to be the woman for you. I might have been able to live here as a servant, like dear Betsy and Daisy and Marion (please tell them thank you for everything). I can’t be the kind of woman you need standing beside you, though. I can’t survive in this world. I need to go home.
“I’m sorry that it had to end this way. I would have tried to find you to say goodbye if I could, but if I don’t get away from here right this very minute, I think I’ll go crazy. I would be happy if you thought you could write to me once I’m gone—I’m going home to Haskell—but if you can’t, I understand.
“But before I go, you should know that Olympia is every bit as much of an imposter as I am. I overheard her and her maid speaking in German the other night. Olympia is not a princess, she’s an actress from Hamburg who wants to marry into the aristocracy for the title and fortune. I’m not sure how you will be able to prove that. Maybe by finding some evidence of her days in the theater? I hope you’re able to save Lord Reese from having to marry her.
“Tell Reese and your mother that I am blessed to have known them, that I will never forget their kindness, and that I wish they will have every happiness in life.
“Yours with all my heart,
“Ellie”
As soon as the letter was finished, she folded it over, slid it into an embellished envelope, and wrote Henry’s name on the front. That done, she fetched her hat, grabbed her suitcase, sent a glance out the window—where rain was already drumming against the pane—and marched out into the hall.
The first servant she saw was one of the under-footmen, Gary, rushing from one task to another.
“Excuse me.” She stopped him by waving the letter.
“Miss?” Gary skidded to a stop halfway through the downstairs hall. He glanced anxiously toward the conservatory, then straightened, tugged at the bottom of his jacket, and approached her, ready to be of service.
“I won’t keep you, Gary,” Ellie said. “I know you’re busy moving the garden party into the house.”
“For you, miss, it’s no trouble.”
Ellie smiled at him, tears coming to her eyes. Not everything about this life was horrible. She would miss the hardworking servants of Albany Court. “Could you give this to Lord Henry?” she asked, her voice cracking.
Gary looked confused. “He just went out for a ride with Lord Reese. Since it’s raining, he should be back soon, if you want to give it to him yourself.”
“No,” Ellie said, a little too quickly. “You give it to him.” She handed the letter across.
Gary took it with a slight frown. “Yes, miss.” He turned to go.
“Goodbye, Gary,” she said. He was the only piece of the life she wasn’t meant to have that she could say goodbye to, so he’d have to represent everything she was leaving. “And thank you.”
“Miss?” Gary turned back to her, more confused than ever.
Ellie sniffled, surprised that she was already crying. She wiped away her tear. “Goodbye,” she said, then turned and fled out the front door.
CHAPTER 9
Racing with Reese across the vast grounds of Albany Court was exactly what Henry needed. By the time the two of them walked their horses back into the stable yard, he was exhausted, soaked to the bone, and feeling more confident about the direction his life was about to take than he ever had been. Better still, he and Reese had reached a new level of understanding in their friendship.
He was smiling when he dismounted, but that smile quickly dropped to concern as one of the young footmen dashed out into the rain from one of the house’s side-entrances. He held something that looked like a letter in his hand. At first, Henry assumed it was some sort of business for Reese and walked Hector out of the rain and into the shelter of the stable. But the footman sailed right past Reese and up to him.
“My lord, my lord, I should give this to you right away,” the young man said, thrusting the letter at him.
Henry peeled off his wet riding gloves, tucked them under his arm, and took the letter. “Thank you, Gary.” He smiled and nodded at the young man.
A twist of uneasiness hit him when Gary didn’t rush back to his duties, but rather stood there, as if he might be needed for something. Frowning, Henry looked at the letter. His heart sank. It was written on feminine stationary. The ink of his name had been smeared by the rain, giving it the appearance of tears and misery. He wasted no time in opening it and reading speedily through the first paragraph.
“What is it?” Reese asked, walking up behind him and glancing over his shoulder.
Henry made it only halfway through the letter before folding it and turning to Gary. “Where did she go?” he asked, fighting his panic.
“Is it from Ellie?” Reese asked, a step behind.
“I don’t know, my lord,” Gary said. Henry’s expression must have looked fiercer than the thunderclouds that had rolled in overhead. The poor footman stammered, eyes wide, and went on with, “She headed down the main lane, I think. I didn’t see much after that, on account of Mr. Poole needing all of us to set up the conservatory.”
“Was she on foot?” Reese asked.
“Yes, my lord.” Gary bobbed a half-bow.
“She couldn’t have gotten far then,” Reese reasoned. “Not in this weather.”
“How long ago did she leave?” Henry asked, wanting to believe his brother’s assessment.
“Not more than half an hour ago,” Gary said, looking relieved to give them some good news.
That was all Henry needed to hear. Not bothering to put his gloves back on, he shoved the letter in his soaking coat pocket and pulled himself back atop Hector.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Reese asked.
“No.” Henry wheeled Hector around, walking back out into the rain. “I’ll need you here to greet her and tell her where I am if she changes her mind and comes back to the house.”
“Do you think she would?”
Henry didn’t know. In his heart, he doubted it. Ellie’s letter had been full of painful truths, but more than that, everything he knew about her indicated she was a strong woman who knew her own mind. If she decided she didn’t belong at Albany Court, she wouldn’t come back.
He nudged Hector into a fast walk through the cobbled stable yard. As soon as he was past the gate and on firmer ground, he kicked the horse into a run. Half an hour wasn’t enough time for Ellie to get much of anywhere. Better still, because of his mother’s garden party, the gatehouse at the entrance to the estate would be manned by a footman or stableman.
But Trevor, the man at the gate, hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Ellie.
“I’d’ve known Miss Mortimer on sight, my lord,” Trevor reported. “She’s a nice one, that Miss Mortimer. A pretty one too. Much nicer than that princess of Lord Reese’s.”
Henry was too beside himself to address the man’s cheek, but the comment did spark something. Ellie had mentioned Princess Olympia in her letter. He’d seen the woman’s name, but he hadn’t gotten that far. If that woman was somehow responsible for Ellie’s sudden change of heart, he’d flay her alive.
Without another word for Trevor, he turned Hector and ran back into the park. If she hadn’t left Albany Court, Ellie could be anywhere on its sprawling grounds. She might not even know how to leave. She hadn’t been there long enough to familiarize herself with the extent of the grounds. In fact, the only parts she’d seen were the ones he’d showed her when t
hey went out for their ride.
There was nothing for it but to retrace their path from the day before. He turned Hector down the path that headed into the forest. A crack of lightning and a peel of thunder only added to his sense of urgency.
As it happened, the heavens were on his side. He came across the wet, bedraggled form of Ellie, trudging along the muddy path, on the far side of the woods.
“Ellie!” he called out.
She gasped and spun to face him. “Henry!” She seemed more startled to see him than anything.
Henry pulled Hector to a stop and dismounted as soon as he was close enough, then marched straight toward her. He threw his arms around her, closing her in a tight embrace. “Thank God I found you.”
Part of him expected her to push back or protest, to put up some sort of an argument or swear that what she was doing was for the best. All she did, though, was to groan, drop the suitcase she was carrying, and hug him back. She buried her face against his shoulder, but didn’t say anything.
They stood in their embrace until another crack of thunder rumbled through the sky.
“We need to get out of the rain,” Henry said, reluctantly letting her go.
“I can’t go back, Henry, I can’t.” Her protest came at last.
“We don’t have to go back,” he said. “The lodge is just over there.”
“Oh,” she gasped, as if just remembering the gamekeeper’s lodge he’d showed her the day before.
Henry picked up her suitcase, then went to fetch Hector before leading Ellie farther down the path to the trail that led to the lodge. The rain seemed to intensify, pushing them along. They reached the lodge in minutes. Henry settled Hector in the small outbuilding that served as a makeshift stable, then took Ellie on to the lodge itself.
