“I did, but not close ones. Perhaps, like you, I never really settled into proper friendships after ours was so cruelly taken from us.”
“But it is back now, is it not? We are reunited.”
“Yes, we are reunited, and I will do everything in my power to help you.” She smiled and turned to look back in the direction from which they had come. “Now, I wonder if I might trouble you for some transport back into Rowley, for I have once again left Fleur alone in the tea room.”
“Yes, of course,” he said with a smile. “But do try to come back soon, Georgie. I have missed you these last two days.”
“I will.”
Chapter 13
The letter from her mother arrived so quickly that Georgina realized she must have begun to write her response the moment she had finished reading Georgina’s own letter.
Georgina had enlisted Fleur’s help in the construction of the letter to her mother, keen for her cousin’s opinion on how best to approach the thing. After all, she did not know how much her mother knew, and she certainly did not know if her mother had any idea that the current Duke of Calder was, in fact, their old servant, Samuel White.
She was very keen not to give Sammy away, not even to her own mother. After all, her mother might well be part of that secret, an active part, even now.
In the end, she had written her mother a very simple and vague sort of a letter.
“Dearest Mama,
I must first thank you so much for sending me here to Devonshire, for I do believe that it is working wonders for my health. I have been very careful, as promised, not to overexert myself or spend too much time out of doors, in case you were wondering and worrying, my dear.
Felix is as wonderful and as kind as Papa, and he is very careful that I do not do too much. And Fleur continues to be an absolute delight to me, almost like a sister it is true to say. And Jeremy remains amusing, keeping us all entertained with his clever words and silly actions.
I must admit that I find Great Aunt Belle the most refreshing of all my new discoveries. I cannot tell you how very different she is from my own grandmother, and it is impossible to think that the two women could ever have grown up in this wonderful house in Rowley as sisters. She is very much kinder and a good deal more fun, it has to be said.
I think you would like her, Mama, at any rate. She is nothing like my father’s mother at all, a point which I am sure you would find agreeable.
Much apart from hoping that you are well and my keenness to assure you of my own improving health, I have another reason for writing to you, and I hope you will forgive it.
Whilst I have been here in Devon, I am absolutely certain that I have seen a young man whom I recognize completely from my childhood. You will think it a little strange, but I feel sure that I have seen none other than Samuel White, albeit only from afar.
I would not, of course, mention anything to him, for he is a young man of some note, and I would not like to remind him that he was once a servant in my own home. But still, I have found it a little unsettling, and it has caused me to think almost perpetually of those days, and I have once again fallen to wondering exactly how it was he came to leave our home ten years ago.
I hope you will not respond as you did back then and simply tell me that he ran away, for I know in my heart that that is not the truth. I am sure that there was more to be known about Samuel White than his lowly beginnings would ever have suggested, and I should like to know the truth of it. Or, at least, as much of the truth as you have at your disposal, Mama.
I have not written anything to my father, nor shall I, in hopes that you and I might keep this between us. If there is some reason that you cannot help me, I shall understand. But I must tell you that I have never stopped wondering about my old friend all these years, and I feel that, as a fully-grown woman, I should be very grateful if you would be entirely honest with me.
Not only about the departure of Sammy White from our home, but exactly how it was he came to be there in the first place.
I have racked my memory, shaking it until all the pieces that are available have fallen out before me, and I cannot remember a time before Samuel. I have it in my mind that he was always there, or at least there from a time when I had an ability for cognizance.
Please forgive me for my impertinence not only in asking but in suggesting that you have more truth at your disposal than you have previously given me. And please understand that I have had many years of wondering and worrying and should like this mystery to be brought to an end finally.
And please do write back to tell me about you and Papa and what you have been doing. I trust that you are both well and are not missing me too much whilst I am here in Devonshire.
Take the very greatest of care, Mama, and please do write back to me as soon as you have the chance of it.
With much love,
Your loving daughter,
Georgina.”
It had been Fleur’s idea not to give too much away in the initial letter, stating that the white lie of not having approached Sammy White was a necessary one. After all, it was still not clear how much Georgina’s mother knew, or how much she might be bound to reveal of her daughter’s own findings to a third party.
As soon as Felix’s butler had handed Georgina her mother’s letter at the breakfast table, Fleur’s eyes had been wide with excitement.
The moment that Georgina excused herself from the breakfast table to make her way upstairs, she knew that Fleur would not be far behind.
Instead of opening the letter immediately, she waited on the window seat in Fleur’s room, knowing that her cousin would be there at any moment. She had been so helpful that Georgina would not start without her but would read the letter aloud so that they could both hear it for the first time together.
“Goodness me, I had gone to your chamber, my dear,” Fleur said, clearly out as breath as she bustled into her own room. “What does it say? Does she say anything about Sammy?”
“I have not opened it yet, Fleur,” Georgina said with a laugh and held the unopened letter aloft. “I would not have started without you.”
“Oh good, but you must open it now,” she said, still breathing hard as she took her seat in the window next to her cousin.
“Right, let me begin,” Georgina responded, full of excitement as she broke the seal.
“My dearest Georgina,
I am glad to hear that your health progresses and am bound to say that I cannot wait until you return home here to Ashdown Manor. I have missed you greatly, my child, and the house does seem terribly quiet without you.
I am glad that things go well with your cousins and that you are so very comfortable at Winton House. Please do convey fondest regards from myself and your father as soon as you have the opportunity, my dear.
I will tell you honestly that your father and I are both very well, enjoying the warmth of early summer and the fortune of great health.
Now that the formalities are done, I shall get to the information that I know you are keenest to hear. I will tell you what I know of Sammy White but beg that you never discuss it with your father, for he has not authorized me to reveal what I am about to tell you.
I must first beseech you not to approach this man in any way, whether he truly is Samuel White or not. I cannot say that he is dangerous in any way, only that I do not exactly know which people surround him, or even what sort of person he might have truly hailed from in the first place.
I think you must already be reasonably aware that your grandmother had the fullest of information, information that she never parted with as far as I am aware. I am bound to say that I do not know where Samuel White came from all those years ago, except to tell you that he arrived at Ashdown Manor as a tiny baby. Up until the moment he was taken from our house, it is true to say that the child had never known another home.
But I am also bound to say that his appearance was most suspicious to me and very likely to your father, although he never spoke
of it. He was, and likely even now still is, under the spell of your grandmother. He grew up in such circumstances that taught him never to ask her anything or to question her motives but once.
I believe that he holds fast to that to this day, although it is quite subconscious, I am sure. Still, that is business for your father and me to conclude one day and nothing for you to concern yourself with.
Suffice it to say that your father did not question the sudden appearance of this tiny baby. And your grandfather had already passed away by then, leaving your grandmother the head of Ashdown Manor in all but name. Whilst your father was the new baron, it was clear that the old Baroness would not relinquish the reins of her control until the day she died.
And I am not ashamed to tell you that when that day finally came, I could feel nothing in my heart but the deepest rejoicing, for my life was made miserable by that dreadful woman, and I think it is only that which causes me now to open my heart to tell you everything that I knew.
When Samuel White first came into our home, he was carried in your grandmother’s arms. There was no other person with her, and she simply asserted that she had been approached by one of the guardians at the orphanage in Hatfield, Hertfordshire. It was a man she claimed to be familiar with, a fundraiser who had persuaded her to part with much money over the years for the upkeep of the orphans.
I am bound to say that that was the first I had heard of it, for I had always assumed that your grandmother did not have a charitable bone anywhere in her body. Even now, I am not convinced that what she told us was true, quite the opposite, in fact.
Anyway, it was your grandmother’s assertion that there was no room for this tiny baby at the orphanage in Hatfield and that she had been asked to take him in and have him raised below stairs as a servant to give him a chance in life.
I cannot believe for a moment that your grandmother would have done anything but scoff at such a request from anybody, and the harsh manner in which she carried the child led me to believe that she did not have a moment’s feeling for him at all.
She handed him down to the servants immediately and charged them with the raising of him. After that, she never seemed once to enquire after his well-being, and he only came to her notice again years later when you and he became little friends.
I was surprised to find that she was quite so vehement in keeping you away from him, especially when she had been the person to bring him to us in the first place. And yet I was not, perhaps, quite so surprised to find that she had no care for him, for I do not ever remember witnessing her care for anybody, even her own son.
She truly was the hardest of women, and I only ever remember her talking of somebody fondly when she spoke of her formative years in Devonshire. Even then, it was not to speak of her family but to speak of her friend Beatrice Ellington, or Beatrice Montgomery as she became.
After so many years had passed, Samuel White was merely another servant to me, if I am honest. I had long since stopped wondering at his origins and accepted that he was there at Ashdown House to work as a servant for the foreseeable future, perhaps even for the rest of his life and ours.
And then, just a few short months after your grandmother had passed away, your father and I were awoken in the night by a man who had found a way into Ashdown Manor without making himself known.
To this day, I do not know how the man made his way in; the first I was aware of him was when he stood at the foot of the bed in which your father and I slept.
Even now, ten years later, I cannot think of the thing without breaking out into a dreadful cold sweat, and I suffer the most awful palpitations in my heart. I had truly thought that he had meant to do us harm, and when he spoke to tell us that we were in no danger, I did not believe him for a minute.
He told your father to make his way silently below stairs and retrieve the boy known as Samuel White. He was to do so without waking any of the servants, and he was to see to it that the boy did not make any fuss himself.
The implication was that if your father did not comply entirely, I would befall some misfortune in our own chamber.
However, the man, whose name I do not know and do not care to, merely told me to make my way downstairs with him to meet my husband and Samuel White in the entrance hall when they returned from below stairs. I did as he requested, of course, and we had just arrived at the bottom of the stairs when your father arrived with Samuel.
I can remember it all as if it were yesterday; it was so strange and so shocking to have been woken in such a way.
After the man had put Samuel into his carriage and demanded that he remain quiet, he returned to us and told us that we must never look for the boy again.
Your father said that he would have no reason to, given that Samuel White was just a servant and nothing more. But I had a terrible tugging at my heart and wondered what was about to become of the child. Servant or not, he was so young, and I had a sudden urge to protect him.
I think that the man could see it, for when he spoke again, he addressed me rather than your father. He told me that we should simply assume that the boy had run away, saying nothing to the servants or any other family member about what had transpired that night.
He said that if we spoke out of turn or made any moves to track the boy, we would be all the sorrier for it, for his employer was extraordinarily powerful and certainly much more powerful than a Hertfordshire baron could imagine.
I am ashamed to say that that was enough for me. I was afraid of this man and his employer, whoever that might be. And I believed that we would come to some harm if we did not accede to his wishes.
That is why I must insist that you do not approach this man, even if you do believe him to be Samuel. I would beg that you forget him and take all that I have told you to be as much truth as I have. Now that must satisfy you a little, must it not? I live in the hope that it will be enough to keep you from delving any further into the matter, or else I will have to insist that you come home immediately.
I will expect a response from you as soon as you can give it, for I shall not rest until I have your word that you will make no further inquiry in this regard.
And you must absolutely assure me that you are taking good care of your health, or I shall ride to Devonshire in the carriage myself and collect you.
In all other respects, my dear, take the very greatest care and, as I have already said, pass on my fondest regards to your father’s cousin.
With all my love my dear child,
Mama.”
“Good heavens!” Fleur said, her mouth hanging agape.
“So, you were right, my dear. My grandmother was at the root of this, although I had never suspected that she was so greatly involved. Just imagine her carrying baby Sammy into the house with such a ridiculous explanation for his presence.”
“I am bound to say that it is little wonder that your mother despised her so. But it is also little wonder that your mother and father did not question it, for your grandmother does sound like the harshest of our sex.
“Well, it is a starting place, and a very great one. But what are we to do with this information?” Georgina looked helplessly at Fleur.
“We will spend the day here at Winton House in tea and conversation and little walks, and we will talk it through. The more we discuss it, the more it will become clear to us what move to make next, will it not? You must have faith, my dear. You are very clever indeed, and I have no doubt at all that you will be able to make sense of it sooner or later.”
“Thank you, Fleur,” Georgina said and patted her cousin’s hand. “But I am sure that I could not do it without you by my side.”
“Then I shall not leave your side, cousin.”
Chapter 14
Georgina was in the morning room re-reading her mother’s letter the following morning when Mirabelle came in quite unexpectedly.
Georgina smiled and nonchalantly folded the letter as she looked up at her great aunt.
“How are you this mor
ning, my dear?” Aunt Belle began and narrowed her eyes as she studied Georgina’s face.
“I am very well, thank you. I am just re-reading my mother’s letter and intermittently staring out of the French windows at the beautiful lawn. It is a most peaceful room, is it not?” Georgina said in the hopes of keeping her great-aunt diverted.
“Yes, it is very peaceful. A very good room for thinking and planning.”
“Planning?” Georgina said and raised her eyebrows innocently.
“My dear girl, I am old, but I am not entirely devoid of my senses.” Mirabelle made her way further into the room and lowered herself slowly down onto the couch opposite Georgina.
She had a wonderful, doughy sort of face which was heavily lined in honour of each and every one of her years. Her eyes were small and shrewd, and the only thing about Great Aunt Belle which reminded Georgina of her own grandmother. Mercifully, there the similarity ended.
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