Wendy May Andrews
This title was previously published by Avalon Books; this version has been reproduced from the Avalon book archive files.
To Mum and Dad for always believing in me. To Aunt Marlene for the fabulous critique. To Chelsea for giving me a chance.
Spring 1809
C CSacre bleu! Monseigneur, it y a une fille!"
In his shock George, the personal valet of the Earl of Yorkleigh, paused in the act of opening the lid of the carriage boot and exclaimed in his native tongue, so surprised was he to find a bedraggled young woman curled up among his master's baggage. The high-strung Frenchman watched in fascination as Emily slowly opened her exhaustion-clouded yet beautiful violet eyes to behold the anxious little man regarding her.
Emily's own eyes widened in shock as the events of the past evening tumbled around her sleepy mind. She struggled to sit upright and winced at the sensation of pins and needles in her legs from her cramped position in the boot. She almost fell in her haste to be out of the trunk, but George, ever helpful despite his shock, quickly grasped her arm and assisted her in climbing out with as much dignity as she could muster.
George's sensitive feelings were further abraded by the state of her attire, and he exclaimed in dismay over her dishevelment.
"I have had a very trying day, sir. Pray control yourself," Emily said with quiet dignity as she gathered her scattered wits before raising her eyes to look around. The sight of the large but welcoming manor house spread out grandly before her was surprisingly soothing to her. She had no idea where she had arrived, and she was struggling to come up with a plan of action. This was an effort, since she was still rather inexperienced in life, not to mention exhausted. She was wondering how much of her circumstances to reveal and decided that silence would be her best option at the moment. She was just arriving at that conclusion when her gaze was caught and held by the haughty stare of the most elegantly handsome man she had ever encountered.
Lord Philip, the eighth Earl of Yorkleigh, had paused in the act of entering his grand home and was watching the interchange curiously as his valet tried valiantly to deal with this strange development. Lord Philip's usually cynically bored eyes widened slightly in surprise as he took in the spectacle of a shabby urchin being assisted from the boot of his carriage. The girl stood shivering slightly from the late-night chill as she gazed about. Philip's nostrils flared at the sight of her dirty, tattered clothes, but he could see beyond that that she was a beautiful young woman. With a good scrubbing she would have gorgeous blond curls accompanied by a pale ivory complexion, and despite her slightly emaciated state he could see that she still had some pleasing curves hidden under the rags she was wearing. Since he had reached his majority, he had grown somewhat accustomed to beautiful women showing up in the unlikeliest places trying to catch his attention, but those females always managed to be dressed in their best. Until now he had yet to find a dirty and ragged one climbing out of his carriage. His curiosity was piqued.
"What's going on here, George?" he called out in slightly accented French as he approached.
Emily was fluent in the foreign tongue but felt unsure how to proceed. Have I gone all the way to France? her confused mind questioned. That hardly seemed possible. Would it reveal too much to acknowledge her understanding? She waited nervously to see what would develop as the young lord approached the rear of the carriage. Up until very recently Emily had led quite a sheltered life, and she felt unprepared to deal with a handsome nobleman in her current state.
No amount of dirt could hide the refinement in Emily's face and bearing. Philip wondered dispassionately what this beautiful but bedraggled creature was doing huddled in his carriage. His left eyebrow rose in a questioning look as Emily burst into speech.
"Thank you kindly for the ride, monsieur. I truly appreciate your hospitality. Now I must be off. Adieu," she stated with dignity. She had decided to speak in English, since she was almost certain they were still on British soil.
With that Emily attempted to sweep past the astonished valet and earl, but Philip caught her arm as she swept by him. He hesitated to get involved in what was obviously going to be a troublesome situation, but he was not going to be responsible for allowing this chit to wander off into the night.
He had just decided earlier that week that the deep well of boredom he was experiencing of late was getting on his nerves, and he had been wondering what to do about it. This strange development might alleviate his ennui somewhat, so he decided to bestir himself.
Up close he could see that she really was quite young, and although he rarely troubled himself with the mundane details of other people's lives, he felt an uninvited urge to help this one, despite her obvious reluctance to admit her need for such.
"Not so fast, my girl. Where are you going to go? It's nearly dawn, and the village is a couple of miles away. You look like you will blow away in the wind or fall asleep in the nearest ditch. I cannot permit you to be traipsing around the countryside in this state. I demand to know who you are and what you were doing in my carriage. Have you run away from your employer? What is his name? I don't recognize this uniform. Speak up, girl," he demanded when she didn't respond to his inquiries. He was accustomed to having people jump to attention when he spoke and was vaguely irritated by her silence.
He shook his head in disgust, wondering why he was bothering to get involved, but he could not back down once he had committed himself to assisting the chit. Still, he was already regretting the impulse that had prompted his involvement.
"Well, you need a place to stay at least for tonight. I cannot send you off like this. Come, I will let the housekeeper look after you for tonight, and we shall see what is to be done with you in the morning. George, take her to Mrs. Simms and see that she has something to eat and somewhere to sleep" Then Philip swept off into the house, leaving behind a wide-eyed Emily and a concerned George to deal with the situation.
Mrs. Simms was only slightly less bewildered than the valet had been as she took the bedraggled young woman off to the servants' quarters to be cleaned up, fed, and put to bed. She had known the earl his entire life and was somewhat more used to his fits and starts than poor George was. She was appalled at the state the poor girl was in. Her clothing was tattered and filthy, emitting a slight but unpleasant odor, and her shoes were nearly in pieces. When these were removed, it was obvious that her feet would need some attention; they were raw from rubbing on the poorly fitted fabric. Mrs. Simms had some powerful ointment she knew would do the trick quite nicely. The young woman would feel right as rain by morning.
"What's his lordship up to now-taking in more strays again, is he? He usually contains himself to animals" She was burning to ask Emily ever so many questions, but she wisely bit her tongue, as she could see that the girl was practically fainting with exhaustion. "I guess all our questions will keep until the morning, eh?" she asked rhetorically as she tucked Emily into the clean linens. "But there certainly seems to be some mystery behind you, isn't there, my dear?"
Emily merely sighed as she sank into the soft pillow and fully entered the sleep she had already been drifting in and out of while the housekeeper fed her, then helped her to clean up and change into a spare nightgown. She had barely even noticed when Mrs. Simms anointed her aching feet with a pungent-smelling ointment.
Mrs. Simms shook her head in wonder as she quietly left the room, questioning what tomorrow would hold for this newest, no doubt temporary, member of the household.
Moorfields, Bethlem Royal Hospital (otherwise known as Bedlam)
Tonight was the night that was going to make or break her entire future. Morbid fear held her firmly in its grip. Emily's heart was racing as she crept down the damp and dingy h
allway, trying to close her mind to the sights, smells, and sounds of captivity as she attempted to make her escape.
"If I do not make it out of here tonight, I really shall belong here. This place would make the sanest person go mad" Emily clamped her teeth over her lips, unsure if she was thinking the words or saying them aloud, terrified she would speak and give herself up for capture.
She felt faint. Her knees wobbled with each step as she forced them to propel her forward. Anxiety gripped her every nerve. As she inched past the gruesome cells of sedated inmates, she struggled with a keen sense of guilt. She would be free, and all these poor souls would remain in their miserable bondage. Her mind and heart cringed as she heard the ceaseless chanting of some unfortunate individuals trapped in their own insane world.
Emily steeled herself, tamping down raw emotions as she grasped her courage and made a dash toward the last door between captivity and freedom. Oh, no! Are those footsteps approaching? She squeezed herself into a shadowy corner to see what would transpire, too weak to make it to the door in time. Struggling with her feelings and mental sluggishness, she held her breath in order to avoid the stench permeating the small space she was crouched in. She then realized that her fear was getting the upper hand. She had only imagined the sounds of pursuit. With a grunt of disgust at her own stupidity she crept to the door and saw that her prayers were answered-it was not locked.
With a sense of exultation, she stepped out into the midnight darkness surrounding the stone edifice that had been her prison for an untold number of weeks. Despite her efforts to keep count, she had accidentally lost track of time somewhere along the way. She paused in her steps, lost in thought, trying to figure out how long she had been there. This is no time to be thinking about that! She scolded herself for her lack of concentration as she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and ran as fast as she could.
She looked around frantically as she scurried through the eerie shadows surrounding the imposing granite building. I have got to make it. Tonight is my only chance, Emily thought urgently over and over as she stumbled, regained her footing, and ran on toward the open gate and freedom.
Poor Colette's ill-fated escape effort means the gatekeeper is joining in, celebrating her capture. There's a chance no one will notice me gone. They think I'm still asleep from that awful mixture everyone gets at night to "keep us tranquil."
Emily cringed in suppressed horror as she crept past the immense statues of muted gray marble above the gate, Madness and Melancholia, grinning down grotesquely at any who passed through their portals. Just looking at that pair would make you crazed, thought Emily wryly as she continued on her way. Her mind drifted for a moment as she contemplated what sort of artist would lend his skilled hands and craft to molding such gruesome parodies. Again she recalled herself to her senses, forcing the thoughts out with an extreme effort of will as she gave her head a quick shake and scuttled off to the shadows of the lane, urging herself to safety.
She ran as fast as her feet could carry her through the bushes alongside the lane, ignoring the weakness of her body. Her worn and tattered "uniform" provided little protection from the elements as a light drizzle began to fall, adding to the misery of an already unbearable situation. But nothing could deter her. Her feet grew heavy in their shabby shoes, but as she imagined the gargoyles of Bedlam bearing down on her, she was able to force them to a faster pace. Her legs burned from the exertion, being so unused to movement over the past weeks, and she quite suspected that her feet might be bleeding. Emily found herself welcoming the pain, since it helped her concentrate as she fought the effects of the sedative. She fled on toward freedom in a state of semiconsciousness, not truly believing she would make it to safety, not even knowing where safety could be found, not even really caring as long as it was anywhere but back in the asylum.
Trudging alongside the mud-slicked road, Emily had no idea how much time had passed. She finally came to a small country inn and pub. Emily paused to catch her breath behind a small bush. She felt a ray of hope burst upon her troubled mind as she found the courtyard momentarily empty of stable hands. There were one or two conveyances left unattended in the courtyard, and Emily took a chance on the closest one. She scampered over eagerly and climbed into the boot of the carriage. She shoved aside the various bags and blankets of the unknown strangers she would be sharing the carriage with. Making a little nest for herself in the cramped space, Emily was wryly amused to find a reason to be thankful that she had lost so much flesh during her captivity.
"I'm free! I do not care where this carriage is going; anywhere is better than that asylum Edwin had me thrown into! Why couldn't I have just given him what he was really after? I wouldn't have cared; I just could not marry that horrid Max he is so fond of. Well, I'm free of Edwin now too. I hope this carriage is leaving soon. How long will it be before they notice I am missing and the guards start searching for me? Are they already looking for me? It would be perfectly dreadful to be caught now. I truly would belong there then; I would go completely mad if I was caught and sent back" Emily realized with disgust that she was actually giving voice to the thoughts in her head and clamped a thin hand over her mouth to stem the flow of words. Her mind whirred with conflicting thoughts-delight to have escaped the asylum and fear of discovery warring for supremacy.
Just as Emily started to seriously consider climbing out of the carriage trunk to continue her escape on foot, she heard the crunch of footsteps approaching. She tried desperately to remain silent as squeaks of fright threatened to burst from deep inside her. She was afraid to even breathe for fear some slight sound would betray her presence. Emily was unsure if it was a pursuer or the rightful owner of the carriage and wasn't sure which possibility scared her more; either way she profoundly did not want to be caught. Please don't look in the boot, she thought desperately.
Suddenly she heard voices commanding that the carriage be brought around, then the scurrying of feet as it jerked into motion and the horses were harnessed up and shifted restlessly. She clutched the blankets of her nest to her face to ensure no sound escaped her lips as she struggled with her composure. There was a swaying motion as the occupants climbed into the main carriage.
Emily heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief that no one had had anything to deposit in the trunk as the carriage picked up speed. Finally she was on the way. Freedom at last!
Emily awoke with a start, relieved to realize she had been reliving events in her dreams, not reality. She was initially bewildered as she gazed around the unfamiliar room. It was clean and smelled good but was sparsely furnished with only a narrow bed, a serviceable chair, and a small bureau. There were no wall coverings, and the window treatment was very plain. She concluded with a small smile that this was a servant's bedroom. The quiet struck her as the greater change of circumstances; at the asylum there was never silence, not even in the wee hours of the night. She was unsure how she felt about being in servants' quarters, but it was a vast improvement on where she had been.
As all the happenings of the previous day dawned on her, Emily contemplated what could possibly happen next. She was still lost in thought as Mrs. Simms knocked on the door gently before she entered. She bustled in once she discovered that Emily was awake.
"Lawks, girl, we thought you would sleep the whole day away. It's good to see you have survived the night. Some in the kitchens were placing bets to see if you would make it or not. Such a sight you were last night, eh? So what's your name? I am Mrs. Simms, in case you don't remember from last night."
Emily smiled again as she took in the plump figure of the earl's housekeeper. Mrs. Simms had a pleasant, round, open face with slightly rosy cheeks. Her countenance put Emily at ease and made her feel she could confide in the older woman, but she steadfastly ignored that feeling. Past experience had firmly convinced her she could not trust anyone.
"I remember," she answered shyly. "I am Emily. Thank you so much for feeding me last night and finding me something to wear and som
ewhere to sleep. I feel like a new person today"
"You are very welcome, dearie. And you look like a new person too. Such a bedraggled mess you were last night. The master wants to see you once you're up and about, so you had best be getting up and at 'em. Here's a spare uniform you can wear-looks like it should fit you, but either way it's a sight better than what you had on when you arrived. You can come and have a wee bite to eat in the kitchen as soon as you're up and dressed. Then I will take you to see his lordship" Mrs. Simms never missed a beat as she bustled around the room, pulling back the blankets and hustling Emily out of bed and into the borrowed frock.
"Thank you, Mrs. Simms," answered Emily meekly as she followed the housekeeper out the door and down to the kitchens. She was grateful for the kindness of the servants as she was given a cup of warm milk and some toast. She eagerly ate what was provided and listened somewhat wistfully to the teasing banter among the kitchen staff. It was not too long before Emily and Mrs. Simms were standing in the hallway outside his lordship's library and Mrs. Simms was knocking on the door.
Emily was once again struck with trepidation, wondering what the earl would decide to do with her. From the snatches of information she had gleaned thus far from Mrs. Simms and the other servants, it seemed everyone thought quite highly of the earl, despite his outward impression of being much too high in the instep, but Emily felt she would reserve judgment until she had seen for herself. From her own experience of the high nobility, she was not expecting a paragon of virtue, as the servants would have had her believe. Of course, the servants usually knew the most. Well, she would see for herself soon enough.
She stiffened her spine and bolstered her courage with the thought that she had survived thus far. He could not possibly do anything worse to her than she had already experienced, no matter how good or bad he was. With that thought she walked in with her head high when the earl called for them to enter.
Tempting the Earl Page 1
