THORNCROFT MANOR
(A Novella)
“Romance with a Kiss of Suspense” Anthologies
ISBN # 978-0-9885738-4-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014943955
Copyright 2014 Nora Covington
Published by Eyre Regency Press
All Rights Reserved.
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
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Work of Fiction
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Novella
Approximately 38,900 Words
Dedication
To my mother, Nora.
(9/21/1912 – 2/01/2000)
Table of Contents
Maid of Honor
Best Man
Pleasant Pheasant
Happy Occasion
Reckless Engagement
Insult to Injury
Motherly Comfort
Impatient Patient
Latest Kill
Secret Door
Gilded Cage
Sweet Seduction
Apologetic Blame
Truth Revealed
Broken Man
Spinsterhood’s Demise
About the Author
Maid of Honor
“For goodness sake, Bernice, move over. I am not a pin cushion!”
“Oh, shut up, Caroline. You are such a princess with your attitudes. It is a small carriage. Where would you have me move—out the door?”
“Girls,” interjected their mother sternly. “I expect you to behave like ladies, and you are behaving like children. Control yourselves.”
“Control myself?” Caroline countered. “And why would I do that? This entire trip occurs at an inconvenient time of the year. It is cold, raining, and I am miserably cramped.”
“So noted,” replied her mother. “It shall not be long, and we will soon be at Aunt Muriel’s. You can warm yourself by the fireplace in her parlor.”
Caroline Woodard rolled her eyes and glanced out the window. The rain pounded on the rooftop like falling pebbles. Its wheels rolled in and out of puddles, splashing water upon the curb. With each jostle, she teetered on the brink of losing control.
Her hand brushed across her wrinkled skirt. A coach was no place for a lady who wanted to keep appearances. She had traveled all day and into the evening. The first half of their excursion had been by train. At the end of the line, they hired a coach to Pendeen, a small town on the Cornwall coast where her mother’s sister resided.
Why her Aunt Muriel insisted on living in a dull mining village was beyond Caroline’s understanding. Everyone in the family tried to persuade her to relocate after the passing of her husband, but she would hear nothing of it. She rattled on about how she adored the sea and how the weather was more amicable than London. As the torrential rain pounded the coach, Caroline doubted its truth.
Her cousin, Georgina, had been the reason for the trip. In a few days, she would marry. Georgina had begged Caroline to be her maid of honor. Out of sheer excitement Caroline agreed, forgetting about the uncomfortable journey ahead.
Georgina had captured the heart of Darby Wilson, who had promised to spirit her away to culture and society in London after they wed. At least they would be closer to one another, and they could spend more time together. Her fiancé had rented a suitable flat where they would reside after their romantic honeymoon in Paris.
Darby was a handsome and intelligent man with a good head upon his shoulders. After finishing his university studies, he had secured an advantageous position at a bank. As a career-minded, levelheaded, and gifted male with a pleasing appearance and ideal manners, Caroline could not help but be envious of her cousin’s good catch. She had been fortunate to find a beau in a village that brimmed with filthy poor miners who toiled in the dark holes in the earth.
I am not jealous, she tried to convince herself. Nevertheless, the sting of envy had wounded Caroline’s heart as she continued to flounder in her pursuit for a husband. There she sat, in her prime for matrimony and childbearing and dangerously nearing the age of being an old maid. Next year’s census would again bear the word “spinster” in big, bold letters on the register of household occupants at 52 Hampton Road, London.
As far as her mother had been concerned, Caroline had no one to blame but herself because of her pickiness. Her high-pitched voice would admonish her at every turn. “A young woman should not expect too much from the union except security and protection from a husband.” Her outdated opinion that marriage was a matter of convenience and necessity for survival did not sit well with Caroline’s ideals. She wanted to marry for love and not necessity. If Georgina could do it, why couldn’t she?
Even her father sternly urged her to accept the advances of a few suitors. “Pick one and be done with it!” his voice scolded. As much as she loved her father, in Caroline’s mind he was a shallow man lost in his selfish pursuits. He chose not to attend her cousin’s wedding but remained in London, feigning some excuse about business. He should talk, she mused to herself as she glanced over at her disappointed mother.
She pouted, remembering Gilroy Baker, who had once sworn his love. Like a foolish little girl, she believed his lies. When he abandoned her, Caroline swore she would not make the same mistake again. Surely somewhere in all of England there was a man to sweep her off her feet in some daring and dashing way. If not, she would just stay single, even though the mere thought of it pierced her heart.
Caroline rubbed the misty moisture off the coach window with the palm of her hand and peered outside. She recognized the passing shops that gave way to houses on the outskirts of the village. They were drawing near to her aunt’s residence. Caroline looked over at her mother and chuckled. She had fallen asleep, and a soft snore rattled her vocal cords. Bernice giggled too.
“Mother,” she said, reaching over and jostling her out of her slumber. We’re almost to auntie’s house.”
“Oh dear!” She straightened her posture and fixed her bonnet that had fallen to one side. “I cannot believe that I fell asleep.”
The carriage wheels slowed and came to a halt. Caroline bemoaned the torrential downpour outside. “Oh, look at the rain. We will catch our death of cold!” Caroline smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, anxiously anticipating the opening of the carriage door.
“Look, Caroline. It is Darby with an umbrella come to meet us,” screeched Bernice.
“He is such a darling gentleman. God bless the man,” Mrs. Woodard sighed.
The door flung open, and Darby poked his head inside. “Ladies, welcome.” He grinned. “Let me escort you indoors one by one under the protection of this fine umbrella.”
Caroline glanced at the door and spotted Georgina standing in the threshold with a broad smile on her face. She glowed with joy. Darby’s handsome appearance stirred the jealousy bee inside her head.
“Come along, Mrs. Woodard. Let me escort you first.” Darby reached out his hand and helped her from
the carriage. The heavy rain bounced off the black silken top of the umbrella. A moment later, after seeing her mother safely indoors, he returned to the carriage.
“Who’s next?” He looked at Bernice and then Caroline.
“Oh, let me!” Bernice grabbed his hand before Caroline could say a word.
Darby looked at Caroline and gave her wink. “Be right back.”
After delivering giggling Bernice, Darby returned. “Come on, little lady, your cousin cannot wait to see you.”
Darby grasped her hand tightly and helped her from the carriage. The ground was wet with puddles, and Caroline lifted her skirt, avoiding the multiple pools that stretched between the carriage and the doorway.
“Here you are, my love. One cousin safely delivered.”
“Caroline!” squealed Georgina. She clung to her cousin enthusiastically and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Her hug nearly knocked the breath from Caroline’s lungs.
“I will see that the luggage is brought in by the servants and taken to your room, ladies,” Darby announced.
“Oh, Caroline, it is so good to see you,” Georgina continued to fuss.
“And you,” Caroline replied, eyeing her cousin up and down. “Georgina, you look—well, you look radiant.”
“I’m so happy, Caroline. I cannot tell you the joy that floods my heart.”
“Well, I hope that it stops raining by the end of the week, or your wedding day will flood.” Caroline thought it would be a horrible omen should it rain. No bride wishes a wet wedding.
“I’m sure it will be divine,” her cousin quickly dismissed.
Caroline could see that Georgina would not let anyone or anything rain on her marriage to her prince charming.
“Caroline, so good of you to come.” Muriel approached and gave her a welcoming hug. “I was telling your mother how happy I am to have you here on such a joyous occasion.”
“Hello, Aunt Muriel,” Caroline responded by kissing both her cheeks. “Please tell me this dreadful rain will stop.” She noted the glow on her aunt’s face too. Had the entire family been touched by a magic wand of happiness? I am not jealous, she reasserted.
Muriel laughed aloud. “Oh, dearie, I am sure it will.” She reached out and took her hand. “Now, come and warm yourself by the fire in the parlor and have some tea.”
As they entered, Caroline admitted the fire looked inviting. Their maid arrived with a tray of hot tea and tasty cakes.
“Please, help yourselves to some refreshment,” her aunt offered.
“Oh, Caroline, I cannot wait to take you up to my room and show you my wedding trousseau,” Georgina said.
“Can I see it too?” Darby interjected with a teasing twinkle in his eye.
“No, you may not. You know very well, Darby Wilson, it is bad luck to see your bride in the dress before the wedding.
“Ooh, bad luck,” he jested. “Would not want any of that.”
“Darby, you need to tell Caroline what you have done,” moaned Georgina.
“What have you done, Darby?” Caroline asked curiously. “The sound of my cousin’s voice tells me it must be most dreadful.”
“Oh, dreadful, indeed,” Georgina agreed, wide-eyed. “He has asked his odd friend to—”
Darby cleared his throat and then interrupted. “Ah, excuse me, darling, but I thought you wanted me to tell Caroline.”
“Well, tell her,” she said. Georgina grabbed Caroline’s arm and whispered, “I will save you.”
“Save me from what?” Caroline queried with worried eyes.
“Bramwell Croft,” Georgina quickly answered.
“Oh, now you have done it,” Darby snorted.
“Tell me what? Will one of you please tell me who is Bramwell Croft?” Caroline squawked.
“He is to be my best man,” Darby announced. “Every groom needs a respectable friend at his side when he weds.”
“So what is wrong with that? Caroline asked me to be her maid of honor. I do not understand the fuss.”
“Oh, you will,” Georgina said, grabbing her forearm even tighter. “Frankly, I think he is ill-tempered, rude, and very unkempt in his appearance. His facial expression is always morose, and he wears his hair long and wild.” She inhaled a deep breath as if to calm herself from the mental portrait. “He gives me butterflies, and I don’t mean that in a good sort of way either,” she offered rather sharply.
“Dearest, that is enough,” Darby sternly interjected. His face turned sour as a pickle as he scowled at Georgina.
“Well, now you have me concerned, young Darby.” Caroline’s mother entered the conversation with a furrowed brow.
“Georgina, look what you have done by speaking ill of him,” Muriel added. “He is an unfortunate soul, and we should not be gossiping about him behind his back. It is not proper Christian behavior.” She postured herself like a righteous saint. “Poor man.”
“That is quite right,” Darby reiterated. “I think we should just let Caroline meet Bramwell and let her make up her own mind about the poor man, as you call him.” He sucked in a breath and proudly continued. “He is, after all, my friend.”
Georgina shook her head. “Fine, let her make up her mind. No doubt she will think the same as me when she finds out the whole story.”
Caroline huffed in protest. “You are making my head spin with your mysterious innuendos about one person.” She flashed a disapproving glare at Darby and her cousin.
“Never you mind, Caroline,” Darby assured her. “You will meet him tomorrow night. He has invited us all to dinner at his manor house.”
“Oh, yes. I almost forgot about the dinner,” Georgina replied, shoving out her lip in a pout.
Suddenly the room grew quiet. Caroline took a sip of tea and stared into the fire. Everyone had an opinion about Bramwell Croft. I wonder if he is married, she pondered. No one mentioned a wife. Before she could speculate any further regarding his marital status, her cousin caught her attention.
“Come with me upstairs, Caroline. I cannot wait a moment longer to show you my wedding dress.”
“Me too,” squealed Bernice, jumping to her feet.
“Must you stick your nose into everything?” Caroline protested. Bernice’s countenance fell over the scolding.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Caroline admitted. Envy made her a snippy person.
“Of course you can come along,” replied Georgina.
The three girls flew up the stairs like chirping canaries and soared into Georgina’s bedchamber. As soon as they entered the room, Caroline spotted the gorgeous gown hanging upon a dressmaker’s form. Surprisingly, tears filled her eyes when she beheld the beauty of lace, beadwork, and satin.
“Oh, Georgina, it is breathtaking. May I touch it?”
“Yes, of course,” she replied, grinning from ear to ear.
Caroline reached out to a sleeve and felt the silk between her thumb and index finger. She inspected the handiwork closely, admiring the excellent talent of the seamstress. Bernice roughly grabbed the other sleeve, and Caroline slapped her hand.
“Bernice, be careful!”
After thoroughly examining the treasure, Caroline felt a warm tear trickle down her cheek. Hurriedly, she wiped it away with the palm of her hand. Georgina saw her sadness and gave her a hug.
“One day soon you will have a dress just as beautiful, Caroline. I know there is someone for you.”
Caroline lifted her eyes and looked into her cousin’s sympathetic gaze. “Perhaps,” she responded, doubting her words. “You will look like a beautiful princess for your handsome Darby on your wedding day. How fortunate and blessed you are to have found such a marvelous man.”
“I know,” she purred like a satisfied kitty. Her eyes twinkled.
“Well, I don’t think Caroline will ever get married,” Bernice taunted. “Georgina, you should see how picky Caroline is. She drives everyone in the family senseless with her whimsical ideas.”
“That’s enough, Bernice. Leave me
and Georgina alone so we can talk.” Caroline took her sister by the hand and nearly pushed her out the door shutting it behind her with a bang.
“That girl is a nuisance. I swear she lives to tease me and nothing else.”
Georgina smiled. “Sisters always fight. I know if I had a sister we would have fought like cats every day.” She gleamed affectionately and took Caroline’s hands. “Instead, I have you—a dear friend and cousin.”
“Speaking of friends,” Caroline said, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Who is this Bramwell fellow, and why don’t you like him?”
Georgina’s smiled faded. “There is something about him that bothers me, but I cannot put my finger on it. He is a wealthy mining lord who inherited his father’s business.”
“Is he married?” Caroline’s cheeks turned crimson red over her impertinent question.
“Married? Oh, dear Lord, no.” She paused for a moment and furrowed her brow. “Well, he should have been married, but that is part of the dreadful story of it all.”
“What story?”
Georgina pulled her gaze away. “I don’t know if I should gossip about it or not. Darby gets cross with me when I speak cruelly of Bramwell, but I cannot help it. They have been friends since boyhood, so he is quite fond of the fellow. They have some type of a male bond that I do not understand.”
“You still have not answered my question,” Caroline huffed in exasperation. “Tell me the dreadful story.”
A knock came at the door. “Georgina, it is your mother. May I come in with Doris and show her the dress?”
Caroline heard her cousin sigh in relief over the interruption. A convenient deferment to answering her question had arrived, which Georgina swiftly welcomed.
“Yes, of course,” she answered. She sprinted toward the door and opened it wide.
Caroline had no choice but to wait. The dreadful story would have to remain a mystery. Rather than worry about it, she pushed the matter aside and focused on Georgina’s wedding trousseau.
As the women began sorting through Georgina’s things, their voices cackled like a barnyard full of hens. For her cousin’s sake, she outwardly appeared joyful. But inwardly, she mourned her spinsterhood, feeling hopeless and unloved.
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