Silk & Scars (The Silk Series Book 3)
Page 1
SILK & SCARS
(The Silk Series Book 3):
A Victorian Era Historical Romance
Copyright © 2015 by Cassandra Dean
This edition: 2021
Cover Design: SeaDub Designs
Interior Book Design: SeaDub Designs
Editing: White Rabbit Editing
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopy, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
License Notes
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cassandra acknowledges where she is based are the traditional lands of the Kaurna people and respects their spiritual relationship with their Country.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About Cassandra Dean
Other books by Cassandra Dean
Connect with Cassandra
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Prologue
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 17 March 1845
To His Grace, the Duke of Sowrith,
Your Grace,
Please find enclosed the most recent version of your Last Will and Testament as well as your Enduring Power of Attorney. Please note your request to establish lines of inheritance regarding a potential beneficiary in foreign nations is being undertaken. A report will be produced and enclosed in our next correspondence.
Yours, etc.
Lord Peter Beecham
Solicitor
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 27 December 1845
Lord Beecham,
A redraft of my Will and Testament is required. A separate missive will be sent detailing who the new beneficiaries are and what they will receive.
Signed
His Grace, the Duke of Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 23 May 1846
To His Grace, the Duke of Sowrith,
Your Grace,
We have received your request to update your Will and holdings to your Estate. We will be in correspondence if we require any further information.
Please note we have found a potential claimant to your Estate in Wyoming Territory in the Americas. We anticipate a detailed report from our investigator in the coming months, which we will forward to you.
Yours, etc
Lord Peter Beecham
Solicitor
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 16 December 1846
Lord Beecham,
I require an update to my will. Details enclosed.
Report also on the status of my query regarding an Enduring Trust to maintain the upkeep of Sowrithil. I am disappointed I have had to enquire as to an update.
Signed
His Grace, the Duke of Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 25 February 1847
Dear Etta,
Why are you sending me such letters? Do you mean to cause me no end of angst? You cannot pretend to be male and attend a law society function! How long do you believe this pretence will last? Within four minutes, you would get frustrated with the charade and ruin the whole thing. I swear, you send me such missives to give me heart palpations.
Before I expire on the spot, I will write of other things and pretend you have heeded my words (though, in truth, I know you haven’t). Lord Beecham has me writing correspondence for the Duke of Sowrith, if you can believe it. I don’t know how it is I have so risen in his esteem to merit such a lofty appointment as, most days, I am certain he wishes to terminate my employment. However, apparently he is reluctantly admiring of the way I form my capitals—Tell Me, Etta, Do You Believe Them Worthy? I don’t see what is so special about them, but am grateful Lord Beecham finds something to commend.
How is my mother? She writes, but I’m certain she glosses over the worst of it. Father is still having fits, isn’t he? Will you visit and report back? Mother will know what you are about, but she can’t stop you. I don’t believe anyone could stop you, not when you set your mind to something. In any event, if you’ll report back, I’ll be your friend forever. Promise. How can you refuse such an inducement?
In all seriousness, please visit with them. It worries me, being so far away and unable to verify for myself the truth of Mother’s words. I know my wages help them, and Father’s stipend from the University, but it’s not the same as being there.
Criminy, I will set myself to weep if I continue in this vein. Let us talk of other things. Such as law society functions. You cannot attend, Etta. It’s frustrating and galling, but it’s the way of the world.
All my love,
Gwen
P. S. Please don’t address letters to my place of employment as Gwennie Parkes. I know you find it uproariously amusing, however I am certain Lord Beecham won’t see it that way.
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 1 March 1847
Miss Parkes,
I believe you sent this letter to the incorrect address.
Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 14 March 1847
Your Grace. Sir. I cannot apologise enough. My personal correspondence must have been mixed with Lord Beecham’s correspondence.
Again, I apologise profusely.
Sincerely,
Miss Gwendolyn Parkes
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 20 March 1847
Miss Parkes,
Do not leave me in suspense. Did Etta attend the Law Society function dressed as a man?
Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 28 March 1847
Your Grace,
I am not certain we should correspond. I have made an egregious error in sending my personal correspondence to you and do not wish to trouble you with personal matters.
Sincerely,
Miss Gwendolyn Parkes
P.S. Et
ta did not attend the Law Society function dressed as a man. She attended as a serving maid instead. She is trying to kill me, I am certain.
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 3 April 1847
Miss Parkes,
Surely such a disguise could not have been productive?
Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 10 April 1847
Your Grace,
Apparently, it was. Her last letter was abuzz with the knowledge she gleaned from the function. I cannot think how she built the nerve to attend such, but then she has always been thus. When we were girls together in Cambridge, she led and I followed. Of course, she led without a backward glance or the barest notion of a plan, and I followed picking up the pieces. But, Your Grace, I cannot have you thinking I would want it any other way. Etta forced me to actions I would never have attempted on my own, and I am a better person for it.
Oh, dear. I am running on with events and discourse that cannot be of interest. Your Grace, do you require me to pass a message to Lord Beecham at all?
Miss Gwendolyn Parkes
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 26 April 1847
Miss Parkes,
No message is required.
Are your parents well?
Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 7 May 1847
Your Grace,
Yes, I thank you, sir; as well as can be expected.
Are you certain I cannot pass a message?
Miss Parkes
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 17 May 1847
Miss Parkes,
There is no message. I enjoy corresponding with you. You have a way with a turn of phrase that is…pleasing. I find I should like more of your turns of phrase. If you are amenable.
The weather here is nice.
Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 1 June 1847
Your Grace,
If you believe my turn of phrase pleasing, I am vain enough not to dissuade you.
Of course, now I cannot think of a single thing to write! Everything seems trite and forced. However, I shall persevere and attempt to write something that is vaguely amusing.
I would venture to say the weather here in London is nice as well. Of course, there is no great distance between Devon and London that would make such an observation overwhelmingly brilliant, but then I have heard the moors of Dartmoor are subject to their own whims. Is it grey? Windy? I should think it would be.
I am used to the industry of London and the greenery of Cambridge. Some days, I miss the clean air of Cambridge, where I’d sit in my parents’ garden and watch the university students bicycle to their next class. My father was a professor before his illness, and of a time former students would come to visit.
But this cannot be of interest. I am sorry, Your Grace. It is only I miss home.
Miss Parkes
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 14 June 1847
Miss Parkes,
The sky here was blue for half a moment, long enough to remind me of how an unstormy clime appears. The wind even ceased as if cowed by the appearance of weak sunlight upon the moors.
I went for a walk through the rocks and crags and found some wildlife had thought to do the same. A hound lapped at water trapped by rock, though he froze when he spied me and did not move again until I’d passed.
I understand your need for green. I travelled to London once and found I missed the roar of the wind tearing through the spires and turrets of Sowrithil and the skies, while grey, were not the same grey.
You have inspired me to creativity with my words, Miss Parkes. I hope you find them pleasing.
Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 30 June 1847
Your Grace,
Your words are beautiful. I can picture the moors as you described, and the mangy hound—was he mangy? I feel certain he must have been from your description.
You’ve been to London but once? It seems a man of your stature should come to Town more. Although I do not mean to question you, I was only surprised. However, I am not one to talk. I can well understand the appeal of remaining in one’s home. I feel certain some days I will expire from missing mine.
Thank you for your letter. It brightened an otherwise dreary day.
Miss Parkes
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 9 July 1847
Dear Miss Parkes,
The rock of the tors collected rain today in pools of silver that reflected the clouds overhead. Touching it rippled the pristine surface, leaving a fine sheen against the dark rock in the pool’s edge.
I remained seated on the tor, my hair a lash against my closed eye. I find peace in such a time, the roar of the wind a lullaby and the burn on my skin a comfort. Do you believe this makes me odd?
I should say attending London only once in my life makes me decidedly odd. It is only—I have scars, Miss Parkes. They are noticeable. When I am not at Sowrithil, they are…noticed. It is not a comfortable thing.
If you should like, you may call me Sowrith. Perhaps even, you might like—That is, I should like it if you would address me as—My given name is Edward.
The weather here is nice. It seems autumn is about to begin. The wind has been subdued.
Sowrith
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, London, 21 July 1847
Dear Edward,
Your letter was well timed. I have not been experiencing the best of times. My mother wrote my father has taken a turn. It is nothing to be concerned with, she writes, but she lies. She lies to protect me, and I won’t have the truth of it until Etta responds with the reality. I do not like being so far from them without the wherewithal to visit and assure myself of their health.
However, I will content myself with the knowledge Etta will respond without delay, and I will soon have the truth of it. It will be nothing, as my mother says. It will, won’t it, Edward?
As always, your letter cheered me. Your descriptions are wonderful, and I feel I am there beside you, fingers trailing in the shallow pool as the wind whips around us. It would be a fine thing indeed to see the world as you do, the beauty in even the harshest of places.
What do you think of London? What beauty could you find in this smoke-shrouded city? I find myself at a loss to discern loveliness when a longing for home consumes me.
My, but that turned morbid fast!
I am sorry, Edward. It was not my intention to transfer my burdens to you. Instead, I shall endeavour to lift your spirits. I did see something pretty the other day, a bright swatch of cloth in a dressmaker’s store. It was from the Orient, a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges, and a whole vista was written on the pattern, village life as it must have been one hundred years ago. I stared at it for the longest time, lost in the colours and the imaginings of a life so very different to mine.
Well. I suppose there is beauty, should you look for it.
I hope this finds you well, Edward. And I am,
Gwen
***
Sowrithil, Devon, 2 August 1847
Dear Gwen,
I wish I could offer you comfort. I wish I could assure you your parents will be well and your worry is needless. However, I cannot do these things. All I can do is offer my hope Etta will send her report soon, and that it will be favourable.
And, if it pleases you, I can offer descriptions of Sowrithil and its surrounds. My walk today comprised the western portion of the estate, which was especially hard on my leg, but then that is part of the reason I undertake this exercise. The greenery is sparse, trees bowing before the ferociousness of the wind buffeting the moors. This is the part of the estate that opens onto the wildness of the tors and hills, and my clothes were plastered to me as I fought the push.
This, I hope, eases you, if only a little.
Edward
***
Beecham & Co Chambers, Lon
don, 13 August 1847
Dear Edward,
Your words mean more than I can say. I can’t— All I can write is thank you. I hope one day I can give you the comfort you have afforded me so completely.