The Heir to Evercrest Hall

by Andrea M. Theobald

  “You are being trained up to be the future nurse to Davenport’s future wife.”

  “Talk about counting one’s chickens before they hatch.” I laughed. “He has to get married first.” I merrily dunked a biscuit into my teacup and then placed it sloppily into my mouth.

  Millie walked about the room, gently bouncing the baby in her arms while he made his amusing gargling noises. “Well, you haven’t heard the latest. I suppose you wouldn’t hear anything being locked away up here. But our lordship went to the Dorchester’s yesterday to propose to his daughter.”

  I had just swallowed the soggy biscuit when I coughed and spluttered. Impatiently, I tried to compose myself, asking, “And Miss Dorchester accepted?” I didn’t need to hear the answer; I felt overcome with sickness.

  “Yes. And tomorrow she will be coming to visit her future home.”

  After that large mouthful of information, I could barely speak that morning; my mood had slipped deep into melancholy. I was hardly perturbed by Charlotte’s entry into the nursery as the overbearing, well-dressed ogre that she was, yet she was slightly more pleasant to me than usual. Millie told me it was because he was now engaged to the rich Dorchester’s daughter, a family she fully approved of, why her mood had been boosted considerably.

  The day dragged on. Millie was concerned over my overtiredness and said I ought to take a nap while she was in the nursery, to give me a break. I declined. It would be impossible for me to rest with the thought that Albert Davenport was to be married. I realized, since the upsetting news, that I had strong feelings in my heart; much, much stronger than I had ever felt for anyone. I could not bear the thought of being the nursemaid to the offspring of a woman marrying the man when I felt this way. That would never happen, I reassured myself. Thoughts of a future as an artist came to the forefront of my mind.

  Nightfall arrived again. I effortlessly began the routine of getting the little one ready for his bedtime. I was amazed at how in such a small amount of time of being in his little life I had developed an incredible bond with the child; it was as if he were indeed my very own. After changing his nappy and then putting him into a clean sleeping frock, I held little Alby close to my chest and walked slowly about the nursery.

  “Oh, Alby, how could your father go off and marry another when he should be marrying your mother?”

  He gurgled softly and bounced his restless little arms up and down; then grasping my shirt collar with his hand he pulled the fabric into his mouth, making me laugh at his determined expression. Yet, it would be determination this child would need, if he was to make something of himself in future, for even though he was the eldest son of the heir to the Davenport estate, he was not a legitimate child. Instead, the first son of Albert Davenport’s marriage union with the rich squire’s daughter would receive all entitlement as future heir to everything. Tears stung my eyes at the unfairness of such a law. Just because this little child in my arms was a bastard child, he would be overlooked over a yet-to-be-conceived half-brother.

  I sang a couple of church songs until little Alby rested his weary head on my shoulder and fell asleep. Gently I placed him in the cot, kissed his forehead, and retreated from the single glowing light of the nursery. Just as I had done the night before, I locked the passage entrance door and left the nursery and my room door wide open.

  With satisfaction I climbed into my bed. Now that I was settled into the job, and now that Charlotte seemed confident in my baby-handling abilities, I actually felt a little more secure in my future. The only fear I had, and not some stupid ghost story, was the long periods of loneliness I had to endure. I giggled out loud at the thought of chatting frivolously away to the invisible governess.

  Sleep came easier that night, but instead of sleeping right through, I woke up in a restless state. I could just hear the sound of the little one gurgling joyfully away. What would be so entertaining in the nursery for little Alby? Could it be the lantern light making the shadows frolic on a wall? I dismissed the thought of the ghost firmly away and climbed out of my bed. Rather than run desperately into the nursery, I tiptoed out of my room to the sound of the little one letting out one of his high-pitched happy cries. It was as if he was enjoying the company of someone he knew. No, it couldn’t be Millie, not at this hour of darkness!

  My heart felt as if it had climbed inside my throat. Slowly, I put my head around the doorframe, enough to glance at the clock that read twelve minutes past twelve, until I looked straight at the crib. What I saw made me gasp aloud, for seated in the armchair with legs outstretched, and with the baby in the crook of his arm, was Albert Davenport.

  “I’m sorry if I woke you. I tried to be as quiet as possible,” said Davenport without looking up from the baby.

  “Err, how…how did you get in?”

  Davenport chuckled. I wasn’t sure whether it was to the playful baby or because of the stupid question I had asked. Of course he would have a key, and to every single room in the house.

  He contradicted my thought by saying, “No, I didn’t use a key.”

  “Oh!” I stepped deeper into the room, thinking about the time my aunt had told me how the maids were scared of him, because they believed he could read their minds. I was only wearing my nightdress, so I automatically crossed my arms about my breast area, not that he was interested in looking up at me or them. “Have you spoken to your aunt about…?”

  “No!”

  “Will you tell her that I told you?”

  This time he looked up. I expected him to stare at me with an angry glint, but his look was ever so gentle, a loving kind of paternal one, making him extremely handsome in the light of his own lantern. He gave me a warm smile. “You certainly are a bundle of questions, Miss Smithers. You would have made a great detective if you had been a man.”

  “Rather, I’m a female who is your child’s nursemaid, and apparently, according to Millie, a very good one.”

  “I’m glad to hear, as we will be requiring the services of a good nursemaid…indefinitely.”

  “Oh, yes, I see, ‘we’ being you and Miss Dorchester.”

  Davenport looked up but beyond me, the paternal loving look being replaced by an angry glint in his eye. I was aware his anger was not directed at me, more at his circumstances. I wondered if his aunt had a big hand in these. After the awkward silence, he smiled and replied, “It will be a marriage that will suit both parties.” He resumed his fatherly doting-on-child role.

  “Of course it will be,” I said vehemently. “There is no such thing as marriage for love with you people, is there?” My heart pounded at my boldness to question him rudely, spurred on by the pain of knowing he was to belong to another.

  Davenport did not look at me as he arose carefully from his seat. He tenderly placed his son in the cot and then swathed the baby in his blanket. I deliberately positioned myself slightly behind, making sure the man was doing the correct wrapping procedure, but I could not find fault with his technique.

  In agonizing silence, Davenport watched the little one slowly drift off to sleep, after which he picked up his lantern and began for the exit. I stayed beside the crib, expecting to hear his steps disappear down the passage when I heard him clear his throat. I swung about to see he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. He waved me over, and I approached cautiously.

  He whispered, “I have something to show you.”

  I followed him at a distance. Instead of continuing toward the passage door, to my astonishment, he took a turn into the governess’ room. My gaze went from the glint of his mischievous eyes to the lantern light on an aperture in the paneled walls.

  “Very few know of its existence,” said Davenport. He walked hurriedly to the wall, stooped, and climbed through the gap. Once he had passed through, still doubled over, he put out his hand. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  We carefully descended a very narrow flight of winding stairs hand-in-hand. Davenport whispered that these ran parallel with the servant access ones. Not tha
t far down, we reached the bottom step. The passage leveled out and seemed to disappear into the darkness beyond. I expected us to carry on farther, but Davenport suddenly stopped, which caused me to bump into his back. He slid his palms against the wall, making the paneling slide apart to create a wide enough gap like the one we had left behind upstairs.

  “Welcome to my wash-closet,” he said.

  He assisted me through the gap into semi-lit mugginess. On one side of the larger-than-normal room was the standard commode and washstand; on the opposite side, a very large bathtub still filled with steaming water.

  “Don’t worry, I have already bathed. The water is still warm if you wish to take a soak.”

  “No, thank you,” I said indignantly to the amused man.

  Davenport opened the double doors leading into his candlelit bedchamber, where I saw all his drawings on the wall, and the large bureau piled with a selection of opened reading material.

  “This is my chaos,” he said with both arms extended out wide. At a sideboard in the corner, Davenport grabbed a whiskey decanter and two glasses. “Would you like a glass, Miss Smithers?”

  I shook my head, remembering how the cider at the inn had made me weak and loose-tongued. I turned away, embarrassed by my thoughts of how attractive he was standing there, and walked across to the bureau.

  “Are you interested in drawing?” I already knew the answer. I was more interested in the notepad, only to see the top page was blank. Sadly, there was a screwed-up piece of paper on the floor. No doubt Davenport had taken objection to the boy image with the forget-me-not flower chain around it.

  “I dabble with a bit now and then.” He threw back his head and swallowed down his glass of whiskey. “What about you, Miss Smithers, what are your interests? Any hobbies that you like to entertain yourself with, apart from collecting other people’s food?”

  “No, I have no hobbies, apart from fruit theft.”

  He laughed and planted his empty glass firmly on the tray; he then walked to his dressing table.

  “I want to show you something.”

  “Haven’t you shown me enough surprises?” I said, feigning impatience.

  “You will have to shut your eyes first?”

  “I’ll do no such thing!”

  “You will have to trust me.”

  “No, I refuse to do so!”

  “Miss Smithers, if you don’t do as I command—”

  “You’ll finish me off like the cattle rustler the other night?” I grunted out a laugh.

  “For your information, since you are ignorant to the recent developments over at the Dorchester’s—”

  “I’m certainly aware of your pending marriage with their only child.”

  Davenport let out a sigh. “You exasperating woman, if you want to hear the outcome of the other night, please do let me finish!”

  “Proceed, me lord,” I said with an exaggerated curtsey.

  “There was no report of a body being found.”

  I gasped out a reply.

  “Nor a cattle theft attempt having taken place. It was like nothing had happened, though there was a report of a gunshot; however, that was dismissed as tomfoolery.”

  “Do you think the other rustler might’ve returned and carried his partner’s body away?”

  “Hard to say; perhaps he, the dead man, came to his senses and left.” We laughed together.

  “Oh well, that will keep the noose from your neck,” I remarked with a grin.

  “And yours too.”

  “I wouldn’t be charged because I was just watching.”

  “You would have been seen as my accomplice. We’d both have been hanged side-by-side and hand-in-hand.” He smiled, whereas I made a grimace at the thought. “Now, please close your eyes. I won’t let you leave my chamber until you do.”

  Reluctantly, I did as he had said and listened for the sounds of his steps; there was silence. I felt his body heat radiating against my back; I swayed out of weakness. A hard lump touched the middle of my chest while his warm fingers fumbled at the nape of my neck.

  His breath tickled my ear. “You can open your eyes now.”

  I looked down at my chest. I let out a cry at the silver of my mother’s locket sparkling up from my hand. I turned about to face Davenport, my tears blurring him for a moment.

  “Why, you found it, you found it!” I jumped up and down, and before I could stop myself, I had flung my arms about his neck. Embarrassed, I released him only to see his face shone with pleasure.

  He could have held me in his arms and kissed me passionately for all I cared, I wouldn’t have objected. Instead, he stroked my chin. “Best we return you back upstairs, young lady.”

  This time he made sure to follow me as I walked up the narrow stairs, holding a candle caper he had loaned me. I stepped into the governess room. We stared intently at one another in silence, and without a word, he slid the room’s panel back into place.

  Many emotions flooded me as I checked on the little one still in the security of his father’s swathing. When I went to bed, my mind went wild about the last quarter of an hour of being in Davenport’s company. I was overjoyed that he had not borne a grudge for me for the other night; I was relieved the rustler’s body had never been discovered, if the man indeed died; and thanks to Davenport, I was able to see my mother’s beautiful face looking up at me again. The other feeling that drowned out the joy was an overwhelming sadness. Now I knew I’d fallen deeply in love, but it was with a man betrothed to another.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The remainder of the night was full of broken sleep. I would wake up only to think of Davenport. In the end, seeing it was pointless for me to remain in bed, I got up, dressed, and stood at the window to watch the sunlight breaking the darkness beyond the derelict castle silhouette. I collected my breakfast tray and the baby’s warm milk from Sally, and fed the baby first before having my own meal, which I could hardly touch.

  When Millie entered the nursery, her mouth fell open. “Oh dear, was the little one up all night?”

  My excuse was I was still adapting to sleeping in a strange place.

  Millie nodded. “That’s understandable. Anyway, I just came up here to see how you were doing. And if you need any laundry washed I can take it down for you now. The only thing is if you need any ironing done, you will have to do it yourself. Eight o’clock at night is the best time to go down and collect your belongings.”

  The next time Millie returned, she had the morning tea tray in hand.

  “I have some wonderful news.” She hustled over to the table and offloaded her delivery. “The Dorchesters are coming for luncheon, and her ladyship has been fussing about the place to make sure everything goes like clockwork.”

  Wonderful news! Pangs of jealousy made me grit my teeth behind forced upturned lips. Now his bride of convenience would be making a grand appearance to the merry tune of all the servants, unlike me who would not be so influenced as long as I was in service until I made my break away from this place.

  Barely could I manage to ask, “What will they be doing afterward?”

  “I should think that the gardens would be the first place that they will go and inspect. You see, she loves flowers.”

  I mused at the thought of what the fiancée’s reaction would be if she ever found out the truth of what was being concealed within these walls. I thought if only a certain piece of information could be slipped out regarding his big secret living in a crib upstairs, then that would certainly change her merry flower-loving tune and put pay to a marriage. I was struck with an idea!

  “Millie, you know what concerns me the most?”

  “Regarding Miss Dorchester?” Millie looked at me with saucer eyes.

  “Oh, no, no…!” Oh, yes, yes…! “I am concerned with the baby. He has begun sneezing. I believe it is unhealthy for him to be cooped up indoors all day. Seeing it is a lovely day outside, I thought why couldn’t he get some fresh air for a change?”

  “
You are quite right, Maria, I’ll ask her ladyship. We don’t want the little one to get sick, do we?”

  I nodded joyfully.

  Millie did get to speak with Charlotte, and the woman did accept the idea of the baby going outside, but not as I had hoped. Charlotte had forbidden the child from going into the garden while the Dorchesters were there. Millie had suggested she take the infant back to her home for the afternoon, which was agreed upon. I was annoyed that my plan of potentially drawing attention to a nursemaid walking a perambulator in the gardens had been ruined. How naive of me to think that undermining a marriage union, of some rich heiress and the man who held my heart, could ever have worked!

  Before Millie left with the baby in her arms, she suggested it best for me to have a sleep seeing I’d been distracted all morning. I shrugged in resignation, agreeing that perhaps a good sleep might restore me, but that was the last thing on my mind. I barely ate my midday meal. I looked about the nursery walls and felt as if it were as hospitable as a prison cell. The inmate, drawn to the sound of sparrows sparring outside on the window sill, slowly walked over to the window glass, only to see the flash of feathers as the squealing creatures became aware of my presence.

  I looked down on the garden below, void of human life, wondering if it was Lady Charlotte ordained or the gardeners’ normal time to rest. By now the family and their guests would be having their meal, if they had not done so already; while Millie and the baby would be sitting with her family members, possibly chatting away to her adoring gamekeeper husband. Unlike everyone, it seemed, I had no one. Apart from Millie, I had no one at all I could call a friend amongst these walls. I could hardly call Davenport a friend, especially now that he was another woman’s man. Dejected, I was about to head off to my room to try to sleep when another idea struck me.

  “Why not; no one will know!” I grabbed my lantern and some flint.

  The panel was slid aside in the governess’ room. I passed into the smell of mustiness. The lantern was lit and its light touched the two walls that formed the secret passage. Immediately, a shivering feeling traversed through me. Thinking my idea a bad one and ready to retreat back into the nursery, I was reminded of the boredom and loneliness that had plagued my last hour.