Regency Rumors (The Sinclair Society Series, #1)

by Swafford, Bethany

The accusation had sprung from nowhere. I first learned of it when I sat down to peruse the newspapers that were still delivered to the house for my uncle. It had been in a small paragraph, in an article that spoke about the war with Napoleon.

  The comment had been vague enough not to be slander, but there was no question to whom it referred. Even now, so many weeks since I had seen it, I knew it by heart:

  ‘Far be it for anyone to speak ill of the dead, but a traitor is a traitor even if they have been dead five years. Father and son left this world soon enough to avoid exposure, but it should never be forgotten the name of S— caused this war to drag on.’

  The words left me in shock. Who would dare say such things? My family had done nothing to deserve such an accusation! Neither my father nor my brother had been involved in the war. Not in the actual fighting or the politics waged within the government.

  It made absolutely no sense whatsoever to wait five years to dredge up such a strong accusation. Why even bother unless it was for some malicious reason? Or perhaps blame needed to be apportioned and my family provided convenient scapegoats? Whatever the reason, I was determined to get to the bottom of it. I owed it to my family to clear our name of all suspicion.

  But first, I had a dress to repair. I regarded the fabric with the greatest dislike a person can have for an inanimate object. How many times had Miss Graham insisted fine stitching would serve a lady well in life? And she hadn’t even noticed I was doing the task!

  With a sigh, I settled in for what could only be a dull and tedious evening.

  AFTER SEVERAL HOURS, my hands and eyes could not take the strain any longer. Sighing, I set aside my work and stood. I had not accomplished as much as I would have liked, but the dress was proving challenging to salvage with so many tiny tears and rips in the fabric. How had Mrs. Burnham allowed her wardrobe to deteriorate into such a state?

  I wondered what she could have left to wear to the engagements she must have attended while looking for a new lady’s maid, but then I remembered the large number of gowns that had been crushed together. For every ruined dress, she merely ordered a new one to take its place.

  Shaking my head, I stretched my stiff and sore muscles as I got to my feet. I wasn’t in the habit of sitting in one position for such a long time. I reached my hand up and curled my finger around the gold chain hung around my neck. A gentle tug was all it took to bring it up from where it was kept hidden beneath the fabric of my dress, and the pocket watch that I kept secured on the chain was in my hand.

  What should have been, had always been intended to be, passed onto my brother was now mine. It had been my father’s watch, and it was the one tangible thing I had to remember him by. He had always carried it and after the accident...I don’t even remember who had placed it in the palm of my hand and curled my fingers around it. Now, I never went anywhere without it.

  I ran my thumb over the glass as I read the time. The Burnhams would be having supper at this time, which left me with the perfect opportunity to explore some of the house and learn my way around.

  Allowing the watch to slide back out of sight, I snatched up my shawl from where I had let it rest on the bed. Slinging the soft fabric around my shoulders, I walked to the door. All was quiet in the hallway as I made my way to the staircase. I wasn’t often in the attic of any house, so it was strange seeing the lack of the things I would typically associate with a hallway: carpets, paintings, vases of flowers, or any decoration.

  The steps creaked as I went down them. That, oddly enough, was a sound I was used to hearing. Faircroft was a house where many generations had lived, and Aunt Beth had always said each squeak and creak was the house’s way of speaking to us. Like an old woman fussing at the change happening around her.

  Thinking of that reminded me of a task I hadn’t yet completed. Aunt Beth was going to be so worried. I had promised I would send her a note so she would know I had arrived safely and I hadn’t been tragically kidnapped in the short distance from Faircroft to the Burnham’s house.

  Determining to write the short message before I went to sleep, I entered the family’s part of the house, and the difference was apparent immediately. The floors were covered with soft carpets, and the walls were papered in a light floral design. I started along the hallway, counting doors as I went. I was working up the courage to enter one of them.

  “Are you lost, girl?”

  I spun around at the deep voice. A tall, well-built man in a modest black suit was now standing in the doorway of one of the rooms I had just passed. Mr. Burnham’s valet. I knew I ought to keep my head down and get back to my room before I stirred up trouble or brought undue attention to myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to lower my gaze.

  “I am not,” I said, my tone as polite as I could manage. “My name is Miss Nelson. I am the new lady’s maid.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “Julie Nelson, are you? Well, well.” he said, his tone slightly curious. There was a pause, just long enough to make me nervous. “Ah, I see I need to introduce myself. I am Bridge, the master’s valet. I was given to understand the new lady’s maid would be arriving tomorrow.”

  With a nod and a brief curtsy, I said, “I am to begin my work tomorrow. However, I arrived today. I am acquainting myself with the house so I may complete my tasks without unnecessary delay tomorrow morning.”

  We stared at each other for a moment longer before he inclined his head. “Enjoy your last free evening, Miss Nelson,” he said and then turned back into the room. The door closed behind him a moment later.

  Well, at least one person in the household staff seemed to accept my presence with no ill will. But why had he looked so surprised when I introduced myself if he had been told I was to arrive?

  Left once again to my own devices, I completed my count of the doors. As I now knew where the master and mistress’ bedchambers were, I could begin guessing at the other bedrooms and Eugenia’s room. I would need to know each location if there happened to be any guests I would have to look after while I was in service in the house.

  There were three guest rooms in total, one decorated in greens, another in pale yellows, and the last in a calming blue. I didn’t imagine the Burnhams ever had many overnight guests, but their family would come for visits throughout the year. I sincerely hoped the duration of my stay would be without the added responsibility of looking after any guests!

  I’d just finished my evaluation of the floor and committed it to memory when I heard someone clearing their throat behind me. I spun around for the second time, mentally growling at being interrupted in my self-appointed task yet again. My breath caught in my throat, and I made a squeaky sound of surprise.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Oswyn Harper said, holding his hands up. “Please forgive me!”

  “Well, you did!” left my mouth before I could stop it. My tone was defensive and accusing. My hand flew up to my mouth.

  A bemused frown appeared on the man’s face. “Excuse me?”

  Drat my tongue and its ability to not listen to my brain! “Pardon me?” Forcing a confused, innocent tone into my voice, I allowed my hand to drop. “Do you require assistance, sir?”

  Mr. Harper paused and blinked. “Who are you?” he asked. His frown returned. “Wait. You look familiar. Have we met?”

  I had hoped the shadows in the hallway would keep my features hidden. I tried to think quickly. He was not speaking to me in the manner a gentleman would with a lady, which was a blessing. I could work with that.

  “I am Nelson, Mrs. Burnham’s new lady’s maid,” I said, putting as much professionalism into my voice as I could. He gave a start as though he was not expecting those words to come out of my mouth. “You may recall we passed each other on the staircase a week ago.”

  There was a pause. “I see,” he said slowly.

  An awkward silence formed, as though he did not know what to do next. I barely kept from fidgeting. “Do you require assistance, sir?” I asked again when I could not bear
the silence a moment longer.

  “No. I merely came up to retrieve a letter I left in my room.”

  His room? None of the guest rooms I’d been in had shown any sign of being occupied. “Of course, sir,” I said, just as slowly as he had spoken. I bobbed a slight curtsy. “I will bid you goodnight then.”

  “Good evening,” he said automatically, still regarding me with puzzlement in his eyes.

  The door back to the attic was behind him. My steps were cautious as I went towards him. He took a step to the side, continuing to watch me. I didn’t dare look away as I edged around him, keeping as much distance between us without actually pressing myself up against the wall.

  Once I was around him, I deliberately turned, though I wanted to be able to keep my eyes on the man for as long as possible. Somehow, I don’t think it would have looked natural or innocent if I walked backward for the length of the corridor. I reached the connecting hallway and stepped through.

  I made sure to wait a few seconds before peeking through the crack between the slightly ajar door and the doorframe. Mr. Harper entered the Blue Room. Now I was even more confused than I had been before. Had I been careless enough to miss the evidence of someone staying in that bedroom?

  A minute passed before Mr. Harper left. He walked down the hallway and stopped at a different door. The one leading into Mr. Burnham’s room. I felt a frown crease my forehead as he entered. What was he up to?

  The door closed behind him and remained shut. I waited for several minutes, but he didn’t come out. The time stretched, fraying my nerves. Getting caught by another servant was the last thing I could have happen. Though I knew it wasn’t unusual for servants to spy on their employers, the household here had already shown they didn’t trust my presence. Without a doubt they would use this against me if they could!

  Breathing out, I pulled the door closed and then rushed to the attic. It was staggering even to consider. I hadn’t seen Oswyn Harper in years, and when I do, he’s sneaking into rooms he had no right to be in? What was that about?

  “Slow down, Juliet.” I couldn’t know he wasn’t supposed to be there. I shook my head as I allowed myself into my room. I was so distracted by my thoughts it took me several seconds to see something significant. “I don’t believe this!”

  The gown I had been so meticulously repairing lay in tatters on my bed. “No. Nonono!” I snatched it up but didn’t have to look close to realize it was beyond saving.

  Furious, and on the verge of tears, I threw the pile of shredded silk at the wall and turned my back as it slid down to the floor. However much they disliked me, this was taking things too far. “Much too far,” I muttered, brushing at my eyes. I hadn’t been out of my room for very long either! Had one of them been watching me?

  I was angry, but what could I do about it? Slowly, I sank onto the side of the bed and rubbed the sides of my head with my fingers. I could feel a headache coming on as I tried to calm down. In all honesty, there was nothing that could be done to fix the situation and no one I could tell.

  It took several minutes of deep breaths before I finally felt calm enough. I picked up the dress from the floor and tossed it into the scrap basket. At least the other two gowns were untouched. All of my work hadn’t been completely undone.

  Going to my trunk, I pulled out my precious stack of paper, and the bottle of ink I’d brought with me. I retrieved a quill and glanced around for a flat surface. There was nothing in the room. Carter had never mentioned whether a desk was a common item for a lady’s maid to have, but I made a note to request one.

  Kneeling down on the floor, I used the seat of my chair as a makeshift desk. I checked the tip of my pen and found it sharp and ready. Dipping the end into the ink, I began my letter in vague terms in case it were to fall into the hands of one of the servants.

  Dear Miss Rycroft,

  I have arrived in my new household. There was no trouble between here and there, which should relieve you. I am, at this moment, writing to you from my room. It leaves much to be desired, but I believe I shall become accustomed to it...

  Chapter Four

  When I forced my eyes open, I couldn’t remember where I was or what had awakened me. I was not in my own, bright room at Faircroft, that was for sure. A sharp rap on the door and the almost sullen voice that called through the wood, though, was a quick reminder of my situation.

  “Miss Nelson.”

  “Yes, I’m awake,” I called back, my voice hoarse from sleep. I cleared my throat as I propped myself up on my elbows. There was another knock on my door, much rougher than before, and I called out with a stronger voice, “Yes, yes. Thank you. I am awake.”

  Footsteps faded away, and I let myself fall back onto the hard bed that I’d spent a mostly sleepless night on. I brought my arm over my face with a groan, just thinking of the day I knew I had before me. Two ladies to dress and tidying to be done. Plus an endless pile of mending to do. It was almost enough to make me want to cry for tiredness. And I hadn’t even begun!

  “Well, lying around in bed will be the fastest way for me to lose my position,” I said aloud. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to my feet. “I can do this.”

  I’d spent days practicing for this day, under the eye of one of the most scrupulous people I knew. I wasn’t about to waste her time or mine.

  There was a chill in the air, or it may have been because I was used to a warm fire burning in my own fireplace when I woke up in the morning. It was yet one other thing I had not expected but would have to become accustomed to as long as I was in service. I shivered as I hurried to pull my nightdress off.

  Pulling out the gown and accessories that I would wear for the day, I frowned at the stays. The maid should have stayed long enough to lace me up. I made a mental note to have a word with her when she brought me tea and breakfast. I knew very well that if I allowed her, or any of the other servants of lower rank than I, to avoid their duties even once, I would never be able to exert any authority over them during the rest of my stay.

  Maintaining the right balance was going to be even more difficult than I initially thought. I had no desire to be an autocratic person, but to be a successful lady’s maid I was going to have to be. At least on a small scale.

  After I rubbed my arms to get warm, I quickly changed out of my nightgown and slipped into the undergarments. To save a bit of time, I pulled on my stockings and then laced up my sturdy boots. Knowing I must have looked quite the picture, I was glad no one was there to witness it as I was forced to wait.

  The door opened behind me, and I spun around. The sullen maid I’d had so many unpleasant dealings with entered with my tea. Finally.

  “Set it over there, please.” I gestured to the small table in the corner.

  As she set the tray down the china rattled, almost as if she were nervous. Frowning, I watched her from my seat on the side of my bed as I wracked my brain, trying to remember her name. As soon as she faced me, she balled her hands into fists. “Will there be anything else, Miss Nelson?” she asked, just the barest hint of insolence in her voice.

  Mary. That was it. That was her name. “Yes. Please lace up my stays, Mary,” I said, making sure to keep my voice firm. “Also, hot water. See to it, and I may not report your insolence to Mrs. Wilder.”

  Her chin came up. “That’s not my job.”

  Well, I had been warned of these kinds of challenges to my position. I rose to my feet and took one step towards her. “Which part do you question? Because I believe, Mary, that it is your job to assist me in dressing, and if you ever want to advance, you’re going to have to perform your duties without having to be reminded. As to the water, I suggest you take the time to discover who is required to bring it before I decide to report you to the mistress and you lose your position.”

  For a moment, I thought the girl was going to defy me further, and I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t be so foolish. “Yes, miss,” she finally muttered. Mary ducked around me and grabbed the stays. I
had to bite back a yelp as she jerked hard. She didn’t say a word as she helped pull my gown over my head, and then she was gone.

  I sincerely hoped that she would bring me the water I had requested. Mrs. Burnham, if she even listened to my complaint, would merely speak to the housekeeper. Mrs. Wilder hadn’t seemed like one who would tolerate any meddling in her affairs, which included the lower servants, and I had my doubts she would dismiss Mary. Especially knowing the family already had a great deal of trouble retaining servants.

  If they knew I could not retaliate, the maids would do none of the tasks I asked of them. It would, quite simply, become an impossible nightmare. And I would be unable to do anything, either to help Eugenia with her season or find out what I needed to know.

  Shaking my head, I took my time with my tea and toast. After ten minutes, Mary was at my door once more with the hot water, which she poured into the plain wash basin. I sipped my tea, watching her complete the task.

  “I expect to have hot water when I rise tomorrow morning,” I informed her when she turned towards the door.

  She went still for a moment. “Yes, miss,” Mary mumbled, her voice ten times as sullen as I had heard the day before. She closed the door as she left and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I had always heard that lady’s maids were the most despised among servants, with only the lowliest scullery maids as competition for the title, but I’d never really believed it to be true. I suppose being directly under the mistress of the house, having her confidence, and receiving her cast-off clothing would make for some jealousy from the other maids.

  Rather foolishly, I’d thought the camaraderie between servants would make my investigation easier. How was I to get the trust of my now fellow servants? Would they divulge any information if I asked? Or would they be tight-lipped because I was a newcomer and had taken the position one of their own had hoped for?

  Sighing, I finished my tea and set the cup on the table. I quickly washed and dried my face, nearly burning my fingers in the almost boiling water. I smoothed the fabric of my gown and faced the door. Perhaps this day had not begun as well as I hoped it would, but it was time for my work to start.