“Marie, you can do this!”
There was no Davenport to hold my hand to prevent me from tumbling down the spiraling staircase. I had to stop halfway to take several shaky breaths before continuing, for the fear of tight spaces created a gripping sensation inside my chest. Once I had leveled out, where somewhere along was the panel that led into Davenport’s room, I forced myself steadily ahead.
I realized the passage layout was more complex than I had given it credit for, because passages would branch off every so often. Perhaps those all led to other hidden panels belonging to other chambers, making this place a haven for a spy who had a penchant for gossip. I continued onward until I came to another set of stairs that went directly downward. At the bottom of these, I came to a junction that seemingly ran into oblivion in both directions; one side of the wall was made up of stone, the other wood paneling, meaning I was inside the exterior wall at the back of the house. Now my heart banged with excitement. I deducted from the two flights of stairs traveled that I was on the ground floor, and since I had an option of going left or right, I chose to go down the right passage, in the direction of the family areas.
For quite a distance I wandered. Every so often the passage ceiling would drop. I realized these were the bottom frames of the windows, meaning the passage floor was below the ground floor by a few feet. Hoping for a branching in the passage somewhere, all of a sudden, I heard muffled voices. The closer I got, the easier it was to distinguish what they were saying.
Charlotte’s voice was clear. “I understand that you like flowers, Miss Dorchester.”
“She certainly does,” said a woman I assumed to be the girl’s mother.
“Albert,” cried Charlotte. “Why don’t you show our delightful visitors the gardens?”
“Are you not going to accompany us too?” There was an indifferent tone in the man’s voice.
“I overexerted myself this morning. The physician said for me to rest. I apologize profusely to you all, but I shall remain indoors.”
“If you don’t mind, Albert,” said a man with a high-toned voice, “I wish to remain with Lady Charlotte, to keep her company while you are busy enjoying yourselves.”
“Of course I don’t mind, Mr. Dorchester,” said Davenport. “I am sure my aunt needs plenty of rest. She could do with some male company.” I sensed sarcasm in his tone, before he added, “Will the fine young ladies allow me to show them my humble little garden?”
The women giggled while stabs of jealousy tormented me to the point of driving me upstairs; however, no sooner had the drawing-room door closed, Charlotte let out a loud sigh.
“Now that I have achieved in convincing him to accept your daughter’s hand in marriage, I need to enlighten you on a challenging matter that may have you wanting to back out of our deal.”
The man replied, “What is it that might scare me into nulling our agreement? You have assured me that my daughter will now have a title, and that will stretch to my descendants too. Is there something the matter with your nephew that might jeopardize my daughter’s chance of reproducing?”
“Well…err, let us say that my nephew has already proven himself in the sire stakes.”
There was silence, suddenly the man roared out in laughter. “You had me afraid for a moment that he might have no seed, or much, much worse, be a man who desired his own gender.”
Charlotte laughed heartedly. “You needn’t worry in that area. He has always shown a genuine desire for the gentler sex.”
“That certainly eases away my fears. I’m not at all perturbed of his past performances. It shows proof that he is a normal, red-blooded male. Many a man has sown the fruits of love and harvested without realizing it.”
“Except that he is aware of it, Mr. Dorchester! The child is staying upstairs in the nursery as we speak.”
There was a long bout of silence. My heart was uplifted that Dorchester might be reconsidering the marriage.
“Oh! Well…no matter. As long as your nephew is not married to the mother, I see no threat to my future grandson’s inheritance.”
My heart fell to the floor.
“I assure you, Mr. Dorchester, that he will never marry the woman. She is what one might call…a vagrant.”
“That is good enough convincing for me, my lady.” He laughed and clapped his hands. “To think that one day my daughter will be addressed by that name too.” Charlotte’s laugh was stilted. Mr. Dorchester added, “I’ll arrange to put the first half of the transaction into your account when we go into town next week. Once he has married my daughter, you can have the second half before they leave for their holiday abroad, agreed?”
“Absolutely,” said Charlotte.
“You will be able to live happily ever after, but as long as that husband of yours doesn’t gamble it all away.”
“It will be over Ewan’s dead body if he does!” There was laughter.
I reeled from the information that the marriage of convenience was more for Charlotte’s benefit. She would be living happily ever after on the proceeds of selling her nephew to the neighbor, while Davenport would be beguiled into a miserable sham of a marriage for the rest of his life.
The discussion that followed turned to the massive estate of Evercrest, and Mr. Dorchester’s plans on improving it. He was a very rich man in his own right, and what I deemed to be an overbearing father-in-law to come for poor Albert. Now that I was more determined than ever to warn him, I prepared my leave, when in walked the garden strollers. Charlotte asked Miss Dorchester if the flowers were to her liking. The girl’s pleasant, well-spoken voice replied, yes.
Chapter Fifteen
My lantern flickered wildly, which meant my worst dread—my fuel source was running out. I hurried up the flight of stairs, when, as if gasping for its last breath, the lantern flame fluttered and abandoned me to darkness. The same feeling of terror as that little girl trapped in a wardrobe returned. Trying to breathe in the stuffy air to try to slow my racing heartbeat and steady myself, I groped blindly along the passage while remembering to be careful that my lantern didn’t bang against the wall. Weak at the knees, I slumped in a forlorn heap onto the floor with my back against some paneling.
For an age, I meditated on what to do next while worrying about someone discovering I was missing. Millie had said she would be returning the baby in two hours’ time. It wouldn’t take long before she had a search party out looking for me. I remembered with disdain the paneling in the governess’ room was open. If Charlotte found out I had been snooping between the walls, I would certainly be as good as dismissed.
Charlotte’s voice startled me beyond the wall closest to me. She must have been speaking to a maid as she entered her bedchamber. All of a sudden, Charlotte giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Charlotte, you saucy little minx, for that I’m going to ravish you until you beg me to stop.” It was a man’s voice.
I gathered Ewan Davenport had unexpectedly returned from his trip away, and now, after so many months apart, he was keen to show his wife the pleasure of seeing her again. After the initial wide-eyed shock of what they had begun doing, the vigorous bed shaking and the headboard banging the wall went on for such a tedious time I yawned. Finally, Charlotte let out an embarrassingly loud groan as their lovemaking session concluded, but it was the conversation that followed immediately after that held me spellbound.
“I doubt the police will ever find out what happened now that the body has been disposed of,” said Charlotte, gasping for breath.
“If that silly bastard hadn’t got himself shot, we wouldn’t be in this worrying predicament.”
“What of the other one? Did he see what happened?” asked Charlotte.
“He told me there was a man and woman involved. The description he gave was that the man was well-spoken and had fair hair, and that the woman was wearing men’s clothing.”
“Could it…? No, it couldn’t be!”
“Who are you suspecting, darling? Do you think it was Alb
ert?”
“No, he was ill.”
“Possibly he felt better and decided to attend the ball, only to confront the men in action.”
“But there was a woman involved,” cried Charlotte. “Certainly from the information you have provided me, she sounds like a commoner. Albert would never spend time with that element, especially if she is inclined to wear trousers.”
“Don’t underestimate him. I know of an older woman he used to go and see, and she was definitely not high society.”
“There is no woman he fancies around these parts, apart from Miss Dorchester.”
“That is where you are wrong, darling. He is smitten with a new girl who was seen here the other day in this very building. Perhaps she was the trouser wearer the other night, as well as a staff member?”
My heart pounded. The girl was me! And Albert was smitten with her?
“What is her name?” Charlotte asked.
“I should be asking you the same question.”
“I do all the hiring around here and the only new staff member to be added to the fold is a personal maid who has not yet met Albert.”
“Apparently, she is a village girl and was waiting downstairs for him. By the way, what is your personal maid’s name?”
“I…err, honestly don’t know!”
“And she is your personal maid? You are being secretive, Charlotte. What is this maid’s specialty? If you don’t tell me, I’ll seek her out myself.”
“You will do no such thing.” Charlotte swiftly changed the subject. “The other man you hired, what if he tells the police of our involvement, should they find the body?”
“No, my darling, he will never say a thing.” The man laughed. “Some of my men bundled him up and signed him up for the navy. Oh, and nice try, you can’t distract me that easy. I shall find out who this maid of yours is!”
“You devil.”
“I know. Now let us make a toast to earning a pleasant sum from those breeding cows, and to little Miss Dorchester’s money!”
Disgusted that the couple celebrated selling Davenport to the Dorchesters and orchestrating the cattle rustling despite the death of a man, I angrily got to my feet; but as I turned to hurry away, the lantern I’d absentmindedly left on the floor caught my foot and crashed against the wall.
“What the hell was that?” cried the man.
I blindly spirited along the passage. I used my hands to guide me. However, I miscalculated the next set of stairs and landed heavily forward. I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out. Managing to hobble upward, to my relief there was daylight filtering through up ahead. I was able to slip into the governess’ room and into the empty nursery a little worse for wear.
Millie had shadows under her eyes when she returned with the little one. I took him into my arms and looked down at the rosy cheeks that were tearstained. Magically, the little boy’s face lit up and he gurgled playfully.
“He only stopped crying when he went to sleep, which was briefly.” Millie sat heavily at the window. “Now look at him, he is the happiest baby in the world. Makes me wonder if he thinks you are his mother.”
“Why do you say that?” I was astounded.
“I believe that babies recognize their mothers by smell and the facial features that stand out. You must look like her. ”
“If it was mine, I’m sure I’d be well aware. And it can’t be my sister’s baby, for I have no siblings whatsoever.”
“You must be a miracle worker.”
Millie reminded me of my clothing downstairs and the option of pressing my garments if I wished before departing ways and leaving me in the company of loneliness. To while the tedium of the afternoon, and to try to push the episode of what had happened in the passage far from me, I did some sketches of little Alby while he slept. The likeness of him on paper was so realistic, I seriously considered taking up drawing children for employment. For the meantime, where would I go if I did? It was hopeless to return to Aunt’s. Perhaps I could go to Vera’s or Jenny’s? No! Staying with either would mean my life would stagnate as it was doing here. The best option, and the scariest one of all, was to save up enough money to live off for a time while in the city, until I was established as an artist. Suddenly, I felt a surge of hope rise forth like a fire within. My dream of being an artist rose from the ashes like a phoenix.
The evening meal had come and gone. Seeing Little Alby was asleep again, I chose this time to go and fetch my laundry, making sure to lock the door behind me. When I reached the basement floor, and unlatched the heavy door into a room that was not the furnace I’d associated it with, I expected to see human life, but there was no one. The only welcoming sight was a lone lamp casting its dim light on trouser legs and garment arms that dangled spookily from the drying racks. I was reminded of the gargoyle-like chimneypiece in the grand hall and the naked victims being dragged down to hell.
“So this is where they left their clothing behind,” I whispered with amusement.
Venturing farther into the room, I worried it would take ages to find my clothing, until I spotted them hanging up in a far corner. Expediently, I unhitched the rope and lowered the rack, and with ease, I dumped each garment into a wicker basket. The stove was still burning away so I went over and set several irons on top; but while I waited for them to heat, a sound came from behind. Was it a maid? I looked about. There was no sign of anyone, not that I could see into the dark corners of the large place. I shrugged it off as being a rodent and laid my clothing on the large ironing table. With a piece of ironing fabric over my pinafore, I began the task of ironing the creases out. Steadily, I did my uniform until I only had a blouse to do, but just as I started to iron this, a pair of large hands covered my eyes.
A man’s voice whispered into my ear, “Guess who.”
My heart fluttered. I replied, “It can only be the man who likes to wear disguises.” The hands dropped away, and when I turned about with a smile, I suddenly let out a cry.
“Oh dear, oh dear, was it the man who has captured your heart that you were expecting?” He clicked his tongue. “If you don’t know already, he has gotten himself engaged to Miss Dorchester. Or have you not heard?” He grinned wickedly as if having discovered a deep, dark secret. “Why of course you have! And you are sorely disappointed. Never mind, you have me now. Now let’s continue where you were supposed to have begun, that is, giving me that body rub you promised.”
“Get away from me, you vermin!” I tried to fend him off with the iron held out before me, but he grabbed my wrist and the iron bounced down onto the table.
“You’re a stupid little bitch! Did you think it was funny sending the butler in place of you, eh? For that, I’ll punish you so hard that you’ll be walking bow-legged for a week.” With all his strength, he shoved me upon the ironing table. I, on the other hand, wriggled and kicked and tried to escape.
“You filthy little whore! I’ll fix you once and for all.”
The blow of his bunched up hand caught me below my ribcage. Winded, I gasped for air unable to fend the man off as he climbed up onto the table and straddled my body. Singlehandedly, he undid the buttons of his trousers in between his frustrated grunts and cuss words.
What was I to do? Desperately, I cried, looking at the door as if someone stood there. “Please, help me!”
Tall-and-Lanky sat up and turned his head sharply to follow my gaze, but when he saw there was no one behind him, he turned back to me with an evil grin.
“You tricky little—”
He was caught by surprise when I brought my forehead hard against his chin, a trick I’d learned from my cousins that made him recoil backward. I grabbed the iron that he had hit out of my hand, and with one almighty swing, brought its heated surface against the side of his long face. He screamed in pain and ran over to a washtub, while I made my expedient exit back to my nursery sanctuary.
My eyes brimmed with tears. I had narrowly escaped from being raped, but how long was I going to remain
safe? Inevitably, there would be a next time when that filthy man would get his way. My thoughts raced. I thought about why Charlotte had not told her husband about a nursery maid. Surely, Ewan Davenport ought to know about his nephew’s secret as well. Perhaps, in an odd sense, Charlotte might be my savior. Her determination to keep the child secret would mean she would have to protect my whereabouts from the likes of the man I’d just run from.
The clock read ten thirty. Still restless, there was one mission I needed to do tonight. I grabbed the nursery lantern, seeing mine was lost somewhere in the secret passage, and this time checked there was enough paraffin oil in it. Taking to the governess’ room, in no time, I stood by the secret panel outside Davenport’s room, where lapping water was heard on the other side. I slowly moved the panel aside and saw through the swirls of heated mist Davenport lowering himself into the bath. When his head disappeared beneath the rim of the bath top, I entered the stifling room, and looked down on what could have been his dead body beneath the water. It was a matter of waiting patiently for him to re-emerge into the land of the breathing, so I gave him the dignity by looking away until he resurfaced.
The water rolled off his face with the help of his hands, but when his gaze met mine, he sat up promptly. “Maria, what the hell are you doing in here?” He snatched his hands to his private parts.
“Don’t worry; I’ve seen it all before.” I flapped my hand and kneeled casually beside the bath.
He cried, “What do you want?”
“I’m here to warn you not to go ahead with the marriage.”
“Is that what you are here for? Is that why you are intruding on my private time?” He struggled to restrain his voice from yelling. “I have no desire to take heed of your advice.”
“Well, you will when I tell you why.” I did not give Davenport time to answer. “Your aunt has sold you to Mr. Dorchester. It’s all a money deal. She convinced you to marry his daughter because he was paying her to convince you to do so. The second half of the payment will go down when you go on your holiday abroad.”
The Heir to Evercrest Hall Page 17
