Sarah’s eyes flew to the door. A tall, thin man entered and bowed, followed by the person she hated most in the world. The nefarious Charlie Crump.
How was it possible he showed up here, at Banwick House, of all the places in England? Did he know she was here? How had he found her? A pox on the entire country! She had stayed too long.
Sarah lowered her head and turned away. Maybe she could slip out before he noticed her.
“Thayne, Mr. Crump,” Mr. Selwood said. “Please come in.”
“I’m sorry about the late hour,” Mr. Thayne said. “One of the horses threw a shoe.”
If ever there was a time Sarah wanted to be invisible, this was it. Most people ignored the staff anyway, treating them as they did the banister or a piece of carpet. It was nice to have it there, but not really worth noting.
Don’t look at me. Do not look at me. She edged away with her head bent in the most servile way possible. I am the wallpaper. Don’t notice me.
“It’s quite all right,” Mr. Selwood said, shaking Charlie’s hand. “I was just going over some details with my governess.”
Sarah froze.
Charlie’s eyes went to her. The shock on his face was undeniable. He hadn’t known she was here. It was simply the worst possible luck in the history of the world. His wide eyes slowly slid into an eerie grin.
“Sarah Woolsey.”
She glanced over at Mr. Selwood, begging silently for help, though what he could possibly do now, she wasn’t sure. Charlie had seen her, and the damage was done.
“Charlie.” The word was bile in her mouth.
“This is where you’ve been hiding.” His grin widened, and Sarah’s evening meal threatened to make a return visit. He turned to Mr. Selwood and explained. “I’ve known Miss Woolsey for some time. We used to live in the same town, but she disappeared recently, and I’ve been quite worried about her. I’m glad to see her doing well.”
Mr. Selwood stepped in front of Sarah, maneuvering her so that she was behind him. Whether it was divine inspiration or merely the foulness of Charlie’s face that prompted Mr. Selwood’s action, Sarah could not say, but she’d never wanted to hug him more.
She gripped a handful of the back of Mr. Selwood’s evening coat, feeling very much like Rose when she clung to Sarah.
Mr. Selwood’s actions did not go unnoticed by Charlie. The muscle behind his jaw stiffened the way it always did when he was vexed by something. It was subtle and mostly unnoticeable except to her; she knew him too well.
Mr. Selwood turned and took Sarah by the elbow. “You may go now.” He led her to the door and out into the hall. “The Selwood room,” he whispered. Then he was gone, back in the library and closing the door behind her.
Sarah ran up the stairs. She could not stay here, not with that villain Charlie Crump also working here. Not even a letter from Rose herself would change her mind now. But how could Sarah leave Rose after the horrible life the child had suffered?
Mr. Selwood would take care of Rose. He would find a new governess who would also love the child. She was not difficult to love because she gave love so freely. She was young and resilient, and in a short time Sarah would be forgotten. Sarah would be in America, working in a factory or a hotel or somewhere she could stay truly invisible.
Rose was sound asleep, her dark lashes spread out across the tops of her cheeks. She looked like an angel, thus, surrounded by her white nightdress, the white pillow and bed linens. Sarah leaned over and kissed her, just below the feathering of eyelashes. Her cheek was soft, and the hollow that had been there before was filling in. In another month they would be plump, as they should be in a child so young.
Her hand went to her waist where Mr. Selwood had touched her as he moved her behind him. His words repeated in her mind, the way he had said my governess, how he’d called her lovely.
She would miss him terribly. The way his eyes were always on her, watching her from a distance, from a place of safety. Not like Charlie, who had harnessed some power over her, telling her how pretty she was and how much he loved her whilst in the next breath calling her useless.
Mr. Selwood treated her with respect, even defending her in front of the Lynns. Charlie had made her the fool of the entire town.
And she was a fool. A fool for ever believing him. And a fool now, for thinking of Mr. Selwood in a way that made her heart feel like galloping horses. He was her employer, and he was a good man who was concerned about the welfare of his ward.
And he wanted to meet her in the Selwood room. She’d nearly forgotten.
It had been almost half an hour since she left the library. Half an hour of her mind wandering here and there, dragging her heart along with it. She pulled the blanket up and over Rose’s shoulders, then crossed the hall.
Chapter Ten
Once again, a single candle burned on the mantel, and Mr. Selwood stood staring out the window. He turned when she entered.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said.
She crossed the room. “I know I said I would stay, but I cannot. It is impossible now.”
“Because of that man. Charlie Crump?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“That rake Charlie Crump? Ha!” She would have spat if they weren’t indoors. “No. I hate him. I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life. More than scooping coal dust, more than Mr. Ruddiman, even more than Mrs. Fogerty who rapped my knuckles daily for whatever reason she could invent. Charlie is worse than all of them.”
“What did he do to you?” Mr. Selwood was standing closer to her than he’d ever done before. Leastways without stepping away immediately.
“He . . . he . . .” Should she tell him? Whatever good opinion he had of her would vanish if he knew her greatest humiliation. But then, she was leaving anyway, so she might as well put as much dirt on that horrid Charlie Crump’s shoes as she could before she left. He deserved it.
“We were to marry.”
A short intake of air came from Mr. Selwood.
“I thought he loved me, but it turns out he loved another woman. He lied to me, he told me he cared for me, but everyone knew he had a mistress already. One foot in sea and one on shore. It wasn’t until I was standing in the church in my mother’s wedding dress—a pale blue silk with ivory roses stitched along the neck and hem—that I learned the truth.
“Everyone knew I was being played the fool and that the scoundrel Charlie Crump was a devious, lying, misbegotten blackguard. Everyone except me. Even though you’re not as pretty as most, he told me, you’re the only one I love. He made me believe I was lucky to have him. But he made a mistake. He let the other woman come to the wedding. I know I’m a fool, Mr. Selwood, and I’m not clever and well-bred like other women, but I only had to take one look to know that he loved the other woman and that I was the laughingstock of Millthrop.”
Mr. Selwood cursed under his breath. “You need not worry, Miss Woolsey. I’ve already told him the position of groomsman is no longer available.”
“He won’t be working here?”
“No. I may be messy,” he said, “and I may leave my clothes strewn about waiting for fairies to clean them up, but I only had to take one look at you to know you had bad blood with that man.”
Sarah couldn’t help a little laugh. “I’m sorry I said that, about the fairies. It was not my place.”
It seemed for a moment that Mr. Selwood was going to come closer. His hand reached out but then fell away. “It is safe for you to stay,” he said.
Perhaps. Charlie had been sent away, but he knew where to find her now. As she’d fled the church that horrid day, he’d vowed she could only be his. Would he leave her alone? Certainly, he didn’t really care for her, but would he let her go on living as Rose’s governess? Sarah could not be sure. But now that she knew Rose’s true history, perhaps it was worth the risk.
“Do you know why this is called the Selwood room?” he asked.
It was
an odd question for the moment, but Sarah nodded. “I heard it is because a person of that name died in this room.” At first she thought it was his mother or father, but after seeing the children’s decor, she was uncertain.
“It was my brother.” Mr. Selwood left the window and paced the room. It was in disarray at the moment, as he was having the walls repapered. He picked up a strip of old paper that had been torn from the plaster and stared at it. “I was the one who killed him.”
He’d said he had a secret, but she’d never guessed something like this.
“Peter was seven years old and I was twelve. I was a fool too, Miss Woolsey. Of the worst kind.” He stood still, staring at the torn wallpaper as if on it was recorded the story of his brother’s death. “He loved me, idolized me. But I hated the way he followed me around like a stray puppy. The other boys—the ones my age—teased me about it. And I, being the fool, let it get to me. One day I’d had enough. My friend’s father had offered to take us shooting, and Peter tried to follow. He wouldn’t leave and I was so annoyed I turned around and pushed him.
“He stumbled back, tripping over a root. He fell. There was a . . . a stone, partially buried in the ground. Anyway, his head hit it. I carried him home, but he died within a few hours.”
He had told this whole story facing away, looking at nothing but probably seeing everything all over again. Sarah stared at his back. What could she say? That it was an accident? He’d likely heard those words a hundred times. As unintentional as it had been, he still blamed himself. Fifteen years later and he still hated himself.
“Mr. Selwood.” She took a step toward him, ready to comfort him. But this must be why he avoided any interaction with people. His touch had killed his brother—so Rose had been left stranded in the nettles. That was his fear. That his touch might hurt another. It all made sense now, why this man retreated when anyone got close. And why he couldn’t stay in the sick room with Rose. “I am sorry. You must be so alone.”
He turned. His eyes were on hers for what felt like a full minute. Then he gave her a labored smile. “Now we are even. We both know each other’s darkest secrets.” He raised his eyebrows. “Unless you have another one you’d like to tell.”
“No. I just have the one. And you?”
“No. Just the one.” He gave her another forced smile, then turned to leave the room.
“Sir.”
He paused.
“It’s all right to forgive yourself.”
He nodded once and left.
Sarah waited a few moments, for him to be gone from the corridor, before creeping back to her own room. What a pair they made. Nay, what a trio. Rose with her unthinkable childhood, Mr. Selwood causing the death of his own brother, and herself with that awful Charlie Crump. She’d thought nothing could be worse than what had happened to her, but now she realized that was a very selfish notion.
Who could say the sorrows that lay in a person’s heart? Who was she to assume her trials were harder when the people she cared about most had even more pain hidden deep within? Mr. Selwood’s life had changed forever because of a simple accident years ago. Rose had lived horrors Sarah could not believe possible. She was young still, and her memories might fade.
And what about Miss Lynn? Sarah had thought her supercilious, but all she’d wanted was to be looked on favorably by a man she admired. She, too, might have some great sorrow pawing at her from behind.
Probably everyone did. Even that rogue Charlie Crump. She hoped she would never find out what it was because she would give her right arm to never feel sorry for him. She groaned out loud just thinking of it. Rose rolled over in her sleep and flopped her arm on Sarah’s chest. They had a bed wide as the sky, and the child always slept right next to her.
Chapter Eleven
The Selwood bedchamber-to-schoolroom conversion had been done for a while now, but Sarah had yet to convince Rose to sleep in the room by herself. Sarah didn’t pressure her. The bed would still be there when she was ready.
They’d been making good use of the room for studies, though. Mr. Selwood had done all she’d asked for, including the rocking horse with a real horsehair mane and tail. It was a proper schoolroom now, as good as any in all of England.
Lightning flashed outside, and a roll of thunder rattled the rafters. Little Rose shivered in her sleep. Sarah pulled the cover up to Rose’s chin. A few moments later, rain spattered on the window. Sarah buried herself deeper into the covers. She loved a good rainstorm—especially when she was cozied up in a warm bed.
The world outside her window was pitch black save for the occasional crack of lightning. She fell asleep to the thrum of raindrops and the rhythmic breathing of Rose.
Then suddenly Sarah could not breathe. Something was pressing on her face, covering her mouth and nose. She opened her eyes to see a face in the darkness only inches from her own. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, but there was no mistake. It was Rude Man.
He pressed his finger to his lips, warning her to keep quiet.
Sarah struggled to draw breath. Her body writhed, desperate to find air while dark circles clouded her vision.
Mr. Ruddiman shook his head, pressing harder. She nodded. She would do anything if he would but let her breathe. He slowly withdrew his hand, ready to smother her again should she not stay silent. Sarah’s lungs pumped in air. She glanced over at Rose. Still sleeping.
Ruddiman clamped his hand over her mouth again, but this time left her nose free. He dragged her out of bed. She glanced again at Rose. Help me! she wanted to scream. Ruddiman pressed her back against him, still keeping her mouth clamped shut. His free hand hovered over Rose’s face. If she put up a fight, it would be Rose who suffered the consequences.
Sarah nodded. She could wait until she was out of the room to cry for help.
He dragged her into the hall, keeping her pressed tight against his chest, one hand over her mouth and the other wrapped around her waist. She pushed and kicked against him, but he was twice her size. She prepared to fight with all she had when they passed Mr. Selwood’s door, but Rude Man towed her to the servant’s stairs instead.
When the door closed on them, he hissed in her ear, “Settle down or I’ll really make it so you can’t breathe.”
She flailed her legs, trying to kick him in the shins or the groin or somewhere painful. He grunted and repositioned his huge hand over her entire face. Once again, she gasped for air. There was nothing but Rude Man’s flesh in her mouth. The dark spots in her vision were replaced by flashes of light.
When Sarah’s eyes next opened, Mr. Ruddiman was stuffing her into a dogcart behind the stables. She was soaked through from the rain, though she had no recollection of going from the house to the stables. She tried to kick him, but her feet wouldn’t move. They were bound, and the rope dug into her bare ankles. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a cloth that tasted like horse gagged her mouth.
Rude Man had always unnerved her, but she never thought him capable of something like this. Stealing her from her bed, dragging her away in a cart. He tossed a canvas over her, covering her completely.
“Lie still like a good girl and the orphan child won’t get hurt.” The dogcart rocked as Rude Man climbed up. Then it jerked forward.
Rain splattered on the canvas with dull thuds. Again Mr. Ruddiman had threatened to harm Rose if Sarah didn’t cooperate. Where was he taking her? Why go to all this bother of sneaking her away? He must be planning on killing her. He could never let her go after this and risk her running straight home and turning him in.
She screamed as loud as she could, though no one would hear her through the gag and over the rain. It didn’t matter. She screamed again. Then again. Something heavy thumped on her head. A warning.
This was it, then. Her short life was over. She’d never have the chance to marry. To have children of her own. At least she’d had Rose for a while. And Mr. Selwood. He might blame himself for Sarah’s disappearance. This time it was not his fault in
any way. If only I hadn’t made her governess, she could hear him say.
She should have told him her feelings when she’d had the chance. It seemed he was not wholly indifferent to her. Mayhap if she had confessed, she would have been sleeping in his bed. Rude Man would have never dared abduct her then.
A wave of heat washed over her face. La, what a thing to be thinking about at such a moment. It’s just that now that it was over, her life felt wasted. She could have done more. Lived more. She could have been better.
The dogcart slowed and stopped. Rain no longer pattered on the heavy cloth, so she must be inside somewhere. The end of the road, as they said. Only for her it was truly the end. She kept her mind on Rose, on Mr. Selwood, on his clothes strewn about the room. On the rocking horse. On anything rather than what might happen to her before the very, very end.
The canvas whipped off. She blinked a few times, then stared up into the face of a different man.
It was that snake Charlie Crump.
Chapter Twelve
“Well done,” Charlie said to Rude Man. “She seems whole and intact.” He tossed a purse heavy with coins to her kidnapper.
Rude Man gauged its weight, then tucked it into his waistcoat. “Pleasure doing business.”
A candle burned in a glass lamp hanging from the low rafters. It was enough to see that she was in a small stable or barn of some sort. Somewhere she didn’t recognize at all. Charlie had planned this. From the moment he saw her in Mr. Selwood’s library, he must have been scheming.
Charlie lowered the back of the dogcart. Grabbing her by her feet, he dragged her out. Her wrists and ankles were still bound, and she could not find her balance. She toppled to the ground. Mr. Ruddiman mounted up and slapped the reins on the back of the mare. The cart rattled away, back out the wide doors and into the rain.
It seemed Rude Man’s part was over. Now she had a new problem to face.
“Let me go this instant,” she tried to say. But she was still gagged, and it was completely unintelligible.
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