by Clare Revell
“I thought better of you,” Caitlyn said. “You should know never to listen to rumours, much less repeat or believe them. I’m sure he can’t be as bad as people say.”
Father shook his head. “That’s our Caitlyn. Always sees the good in everyone, even the worst person imaginable.” He paused. “Are you sure? You don’t know what kind of a man he really is. Not as bad as Naomi makes out, but even I have never seen his face. After all this time.”
“I know his reputation. He’s a hard liner, sticks to his word. And if he is offering you a solution, then I have to take it.”
Father held his gaze. “His reputation is only the half of it.”
She shook her head. “My mind is made up. Call him. Tell him I’ll do it.”
Auntie Naomi shook her head, dismay reflected in her eyes. “I think you’re crazy to even consider the idea. There are plenty of eligible bachelors out there. You don’t have to accept the first one.”
Father slowly pulled out his phone and dialled. “I can’t dissuade you?”
“I’m not having you go to prison if I can avoid it.” Caitlyn struggled not to raise her eyes heavenward. They needed to make up their minds. Either they did or didn’t want her to do this. And if it really was her choice, they needed to back her one hundred percent now that she’d decided.
The call connected. “Can I speak to Mr. Shade please? It’s Frank Hosier.” There was a pause. “Yes, sir. She’s agreed.” He held the phone out to Caitlyn. “He wants to talk to you.”
Caitlyn’s hands were damp as she grabbed the phone, almost dropping it. Nerves tingled, a lump obstructed her airway. She turned away, wishing their first conversation could be in private. “Hello?”
“Hello, Caitlyn, my name is Hayden Shade. Are you making this decision of your own free will?”
She took a deep breath, not having expected that, or for his voice to have a rough edge to it. Not that his tone was harsh, because it wasn’t. It was almost as if he had a sore throat. And a hint of a Scottish accent. “Yes.”
“Your father hasn’t put any pressure on you, forced your hand, or coerced you in any way?”
“No.”
“Then I’d like you to pack up all your belongings. I’ll send someone to collect them in the morning. Bring a small case with you tonight. The car will pick you up in thirty minutes. Now, give the phone back to your father. I need to finalize the terms of our agreement.”
Caitlyn held out the phone. “He wants to talk to you again. Something about terms.”
Father nodded. “That would be the price he mentioned.”
She staggered backwards, catching herself on the table. This was really happening. “Price? You’re selling me?”
“Everything comes at a price, Caitlyn, you know that.”
Shaking her head, she steeled herself. She didn’t have time for weakness as she turned to her step-mother. “The car is picking me up in thirty minutes. I’m to take a small bag with me. He’ll send for the rest of my things tomorrow. I’ll need you to pack my stuff once I’m gone. Don’t worry about the things in the loft, I can get them some other time, but my books and clothes from my bedroom can come tomorrow.”
As she left the room, none of this seemed real. Like the brides of old, she was being sold to someone she didn’t know.
2
Twenty minutes later, hoping she’d remembered to pack everything she’d need overnight, Caitlyn ran her gaze over the contents of her overnight bag. Bible, wash stuff, toothbrush, clean clothes for the morning, pj’s, and her book. Everything else could follow on later.
She picked up the photograph of the family, slid it into the bag and zipped it up. She slid her mother’s pendant over her head, tucking it under her sweater. Then she headed downstairs, footsteps dragging. Caitlyn set her case and handbag by the front door. “I think that’s everything for now.”
Auntie Naomi turned to her. “Have you rung David?”
She shook her head. “We only had one date. It wasn’t like he’d proposed or anything—he didn’t even bother to contact me again. I’m marrying Mr. Shade. The only person I ought to ring is Meredith, but I’ll do that later tonight.”
A car pulled up outside.
“OK, the car is here. I have to go. I love you.”
Auntie Naomi hugged her, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I love you, too.”
Father kissed her cheek. “Take care. We’ll send the rest of your things tomorrow.”
Somehow his farewell seemed cold and final, as if he wasn’t expecting to ever see her again. It chilled her to the bone.
“I’ll see you soon.” She picked up her bag and headed out to the car.
A tall man in livery stood next to the car. He opened the rear door for her and whisked the overnight bag from her hand. She slid inside the car. The door shut, and Caitlyn watched through the window as Father closed the front door to the house. The plush leather seats smelled new as she reached around for her seatbelt.
The driver stowed her bag, then he got into the front. The car pulled away from the gaily decorated house covered in lights.
She glanced back, but no one stood waving. It was as though they didn’t care anymore.
“How far is it?” she asked.
“About half an hour, Miss Hosier.”
“Please, call me Caitlyn. Miss Hosier is my aunt.”
“I can’t do that, miss. Mr. Shade gave very specific instructions on how we are to address you.”
“We?”
“The servants.”
Caitlyn’s eyes widened in surprise. “He has servants? How many?”
“Enough to run a large house. There is a cook, housekeeper, butler, footmen, housemaids, gardener...” He glanced at her in the mirror. “And chauffeur, of course.”
“Of course.” Tamping down her surprise she met his gaze. “And what should I call you?”
“My name is Jones.”
“Just Jones?”
He smiled. “I do have a first name, but Mr. Shade insists we use our surnames, miss.”
“Then I shall call you Mr. Jones,” she said decisively.
“Very good, miss.” He returned his gaze to the front. “Would you like the radio on?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine with my thoughts.” She gazed out of the window as they left the built up city and headed into the countryside, the lights of the town melting into the blackness of the long winter night.
After what seemed like an hour, the car turned off the road onto a gravel driveway, stones crunching under the wheels. A tall building loomed against the clear night sky. A light burned on the porch, a few lights in the upper windows, but the rest of the huge house was in darkness. There were no Christmas lights. Not even a wreath on the front door.
The car stopped and after a moment the door opened. Caitlyn stepped out. “Thank you.”
Jones nodded. “Head up the steps, miss. You’ll be let in.”
Caitlyn inhaled a shaky breath. “I can do all things through Christ,” she whispered as she walked up the huge stone steps leading to the front door, beneath an imposing portico. This was like something out of a book or a film. The huge door swung open and a short, bald man in black stood there. Was this Mr. Shade? “I’m…” she began.
“Good evening, Miss Hosier. Welcome to Stetford Park.” He opened the door wide, allowing her into the hall.
The tiled floor and vaulted ceiling took her breath away. “Wow…” She turned her attention back to the butler. “Sorry.”
He half-smiled. “It is something, isn’t it? Mr. Shade asked that we show you to your room and make sure you have everything you need. He has been unavoidably detained on business tonight, but will see you first thing in the morning.”
“Oh.” That took her back somewhat. “It’s just…he said…” She shook her head. “Never mind. Where can I get something to eat around here? I don’t remember passing a village shop or anything.”
“Mrs. Salmon has prepared dinner for you. It will be serve
d in the dining room at six thirty. That should give you time to change.”
Caitlyn did a double take. “Change?” She glanced down at her jeans and jumper. “This is all I have with me.”
The butler’s face was a study in consternation. “I see. Perhaps Mrs. Petunia could find you something until the rest of your things arrive. The master doesn’t approve of women dressing as men.”
Caitlyn ran her meager wardrobe through her mind. “I have a skirt at home, but no dresses.”
The butler frowned, his displeasure all too obvious. “I’ll show you to your room. Then, I’ll send Mrs. Petunia up to help you.”
“Thanks.” Caitlyn went to pick up her bag, but the butler shook his head. “Let Alfred take that.” He nodded to one of the footmen. “Miss Hosier will be sleeping in the green room.”
The footman vanished with her bags.
The butler held his hand out. “Shall we?”
Caitlyn nodded, following him up the huge wooden staircase. She unfastened her coat. It wasn’t exactly warm in here, rather drafty really, but warmer than outside. They went up two stories and then down a hallway. A door at the end of the corridor led into a small bedroom.
“There is a bathroom across the hallway. Mrs. Petunia will be along shortly.” He nodded, turned and left.
Caitlyn noticed her bags were already on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the threshold. A huge four poster bed filled the room. She ran across the stained brown floorboards and leapt onto the bed, almost vanishing in the soft mattress with several blankets and quilts atop. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all—so long as no-one hid a pea under the mattress. She giggled at her flight of fancy.
After a moment, she rose and walked to the window. Blackness met her gaze. She’d have to wait until morning to see what the view was like. She turned, glancing around the room properly. Aside from the bed, there was a small table and chair with a lamp, and a book case.
There was a knock at the door and it opened almost immediately.
Caitlyn frowned. Servants or no, they should wait to be invited into a room. She strode towards the door. “Hello?”
The woman was dressed in black, with her grey hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Good evening, Miss Hosier. I’m Mrs. Petunia, the housekeeper. Mr. Torrance sent me up to help you find something suitable to wear for dinner.”
Confusion flooded her and Caitlyn frowned.
“Mr. Torrance is the butler,” the housekeeper elaborated. “If you have any issues with any of the servants, please bring them to the attention of either one of us immediately. Now, dinner is at six thirty and even though Mr. Shade will not be joining you tonight, we have certain rules he insists are followed at all times. Dressing for dinner is one of them. I understand you have nothing suitable.”
“I don’t own a dress,” Caitlyn said. “I have a skirt at home, but I wear jeans or leggings most of the time.”
“That won’t do here.” Mrs. Petunia ran her dark gaze over Caitlyn’s figure, making her more than a little uncomfortable. “I should be able to find something to fit. At least Mr. Shade will not be joining you tonight, as it won’t be at all suitable to dine with him.”
“Oh?”
“He prefers formal gowns for the evening meal. I don’t own one.”
“Oh…nor do I.” Caitlyn offered the housekeeper a smile. “Guess we have something in common after all.”
“I will be back in a few moments with a dress. I’ll lay it on the bed for you. Will you need help changing?”
“Not since I was three,” Caitlyn said, trying to laugh it off.
“Very good. You’ll be assigned a maid in the morning. As I said, Mr. Shade has a very particular way of doing things. It’s best we all keep to his rules while we live under his roof.”
Caitlyn watched in amazement as the older woman turned and left, closing the door behind her. Was she hearing right? No jeans, just dresses? And she’d have her own personal maid? Did this Mr. Shade bloke think they were still living in the eighteenth century or something?
She checked her watch. Twenty minutes before dinner, supposedly for one. From what her father said, Mr. Shade worked from home. If he was that keen to marry her, he could at least have had the decency to have met her at the door if he was too busy for dinner.
Hayden stood over the lawyer’s shoulder, leaning heavily on the cane in his right hand. He glanced at the watch on his left wrist, pressing the button to light up the clock face for an instant. Already twenty minutes and nothing had been accomplished.
The room, as always, was in darkness, with the exception of a small desk lamp so his guest could see what he was doing. “Will this take much longer?”
Lance Briggs looked in his direction, his gaze probing, despite the fact he really couldn’t see Hayden. “It will take as long as it takes. The papers you want drawn up are complicated…”
“It’s a marriage agreement,” Hayden reiterated slowly. “How complicated can it be? And I need it done tonight so we can marry the day after tomorrow.”
“I can tell you right now that won’t be possible. The certificates alone take three to four weeks.”
Hayden stared at the lawyer, not at all happy. “In front of you are all the papers you need to make it happen, along with the special license to marry in the chapel here in two days’ time. All you need to do is finish the marriage agreement so I can have Miss Hosier sign it. I was hoping we could do it tonight, but the morning will do.” He broke off at the knock at the door. “Come in.”
Torrance opened the door and stepped into the room, a card on a silver tray. “You have a message, sir.”
“Thank you.” He waited until Torrance was close enough, then reached out and snatched up the card. “Is she here yet?”
“Yes, sir. She’s about to have dinner. I told her you’d join her in the morning. She seemed a little put out.”
“It can’t be helped. Can you ask Mrs. Salmon to put mine on a tray for me? I’ll have it in here as I still have some calls to make once Mr. Briggs leaves.”
Torrance inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”
Hayden waited until the door closed behind Torrance. The butler was a good man, merely a little overprotective at times. Understandable, yet at the same time, profoundly irritating. Needing to sit down, he made his way around the desk, lowering into his chair. He leaned the cane against the desk before he turned his attention back to the lawyer. “Mr. Briggs, Lance, I understand this is probably perplexing, but it’s the way I always do business.”
Mr. Briggs nodded. “I’ve never dealt with what my boss calls an invisible client before.”
Hayden snorted. “That’s a quaint way of putting it. I’ve been given many other names over the years, all of them far less complimentary, but I’ve never been called invisible before.” He paused. “I gave your office a call because someone from church recommended you.”
Mr. Briggs’s expression changed. “You attend church?”
“I have a chapel where I sit and listen via the Internet, but Pastor Nolan has come over several times. He’s agreed to perform the ceremony and register the wedding for legal purposes. The manor was registered as a wedding venue in the past, so I only need this agreement finalized.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” Hayden pressed the button to summon Torrance.
Mr. Briggs began to put the files away. “I’ll bring this over in the morning. Before eleven, and both you and your fiancée can sign it.”
“Thank you.” He lifted his head as the door opened. “Torrance, can you show Mr. Briggs out, please.” He reached across the desk and shook the lawyer’s hand, keeping back far enough so his figure remained shadowed.
As Torrance left with the lawyer, the maid arrived with dinner. She set the tray down on the desk, curtseyed, and headed out.
Hayden peered at the food. For once the smell was appetizing. Not that Mrs. Salmon was a bad cook, she was an
excellent one, but it had been many weeks since he’d wanted to eat. First, he needed to see this young woman who would change his life. The one for whom he had allowed himself to compromise his belief in justice.
He reached for the cane and pushed himself upright. Deliberately he made his way to the bank of CCTV monitors on the far wall and brought up the dining room.
What was she wearing? The woman who sat at his table resembled a maid. For a moment or two he was tempted to go storming in there, but he didn’t. For one thing, the lighting was wrong and he risked exposure far too soon. Honesty was a big part of marriage, and he would tell her the truth. But not yet. There was too much at stake. He’d talk to her in the morning.
3
Caitlyn shivered under the blankets. She’d been too cold to sleep and even now that the sky was finally beginning to lighten, her breath still hung on the frigid air. Didn’t they have central heating in this place? Maybe the house was too old. Maybe not. A radiator was attached to the far wall.
Hmmm. Maybe Mr. Shade was on an economy drive or something. Reaching for her dressing gown, she wrapped up before forcing first one leg, then the other, out of bed. The wooden floor was freezing. Caitlyn shoved her feet into her shoes and padded to the small bathroom across the hallway.
She fiddled with the shower settings, but couldn’t get the water to run hot. Forgoing a cold shower, she dashed back to her room and pulled on several layers of the warmest things she could find.
Still shivering, she checked her phone. No signal. There was Wi-Fi but it was protected. She’d have to ask for the password at some point. Almost eight-thirty, much later than her usual breakfast, but that was the time she’d been given. She needed a lift back into town for work. Hopefully, he’d oblige her and let that chauffeur take her.
Not sure she fancied being driven in each day, Caitlyn needed to make other arrangements—like get her own car. But as much as she hated driving, there wasn’t another alternative. She made her way down the huge staircase to the dining room, assuming that was where she needed to go.
