Regency Rumors (The Sinclair Society Series, #1)

by Swafford, Bethany

  Had the notes I’d written been found yet? Or were they still waiting to be picked up? What would everyone say when they read my words?

  I made myself face the mirror. My gown did nothing to hide the bruises that now decorated my neck. There was also a bruise on my cheek where Bridges had struck me. Dark circles shadowed my eyes.

  In short, I looked a complete wreck.

  The door opened, and I spun around. “Oh, you’re up,” Mary said with satisfaction. There was a tray of tea in her hands which she laid on the table. “I was hoping you would be. Mr. Burnham has asked after you and Mr. Harper has arrived. They will want to speak to you.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Her eyes took in the reminders of Bridges’ attack, and she paled. “Oh, you must be in dreadful pain.”

  “I will survive,” I quickly assured her. How far we had come since I first stepped foot in the house when she had detested me on sight!

  Mary straightened herself and nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I will leave you to your tea. I will let you know when Mr. Burnham requires you.”

  Nodding my thanks, I poured myself some tea, and she left the room. The very idea of even attempting to eat made my throat ache and I couldn't eat a bite of the toast. I sipped at the tea, forcing each swallow of liquid down my throat.

  I wondered if Eugenia had handed my letter to her father. It would go a long way to explain everything that had happened. I certainly did not want to endure lengthy questioning with my throat so sore! I’d only put the bare minimum of details in my note to Mr. Harper, which had been enough to bring him running in the night.

  As I remembered how Mr. Harper had come to my rescue, my heart danced to an irregular rhythm. Without him, I would be dead, and that wasn’t something I was about to forget any time soon.

  Could I admit everything now? Should I finally confide my story to someone who would understand?

  A light tap on the door tore me from my musings, and I looked up as Mrs. Wilder entered. “The master is asking for you if you feel up to speaking with him.” She scanned my appearance, failing to conceal a scowl. “He is in the library with Mr. Harper.”

  I set aside my teacup, which still contained half of the tea I’d poured for myself. Hardly enough sustenance for anyone, but I couldn’t bring myself to force it down. “I will need a moment to fix my hair.”

  Mrs. Wilder strode forward. “Hold still.” She picked up my hairbrush, which Mary must have pulled out while I slept. Her reflection smiled at mine. “Did you not know I was once the personal maid of Mr. Burnham’s mother?”

  The notion had never occurred to me. I remained still as Mrs. Wilder expertly arranged my hair into a rather attractive knot. She tutted as she examined the bruises on my neck. “Keep your shawl close around your neck,” she advised. “It will do no one any good to ask questions that are better left unspoken.”

  I nodded and pulled my carpet bag closer to retrieve my shawl. When I looked up, the housekeeper was watching me. “I suppose we will be seeking a new lady’s maid now,” she said with a shake of her head, “and just when we were getting used to you and your ways.”

  All I could do was offer a wry smile in answer. I slung my shawl around, pulling it around my neck, being careful not to aggravate the bruises. Mrs. Wilder stayed behind me as I made my way down the stairs. She remained in the doorway, watching me like a hawk as I approached the library door.

  Like a good servant, I opened the door and stepped in. Mr. Burnham and Mr. Harper were seated in front of the fireplace. “You asked to see me, sir?” I said as they both looked in my direction.

  “Miss Nelson!” Mr. Harper exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. He pulled a chair close to where he and Mr. Burnham were. “How are you feeling today? Have you recovered?” He paused. “That was a stupid question. Forgive me. Of course, you have not.”

  It amused me that he was so flustered. A far cry from the suspicious man who had invaded my room to demand answers! I sank into the seat he’d put in place for me and turned my attention to Mr. Burnham, who hadn’t risen.

  “You caused quite a stir last night, Miss Nelson,” he remarked as Mr. Harper sat across from me. “Did Mrs. Wilder send for the doctor?”

  I shook my head. “It was not necessary.” I tried to clear my throat of the hoarseness that persisted but that only caused more pain.

  Mr. Burnham raised an eyebrow at me. “If you insist.” He held up the letter I’d sent him through Eugenia. “I must say you built an interesting theory about Bridges. It was foolish of you to approach Miss Graham knowing she had an attachment to my valet. You must have suspected she would betray you.”

  I’d been relying on her loyalty to a former student, but I couldn’t very well explain that to him, could I? I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt,” I responded evasively. “He was selling information?”

  My employer nodded once. “He has, so far, resisted revealing his contact, but I have every confidence we will extract it from him in time.”

  I dropped my gaze. I didn’t want to know that Bridges was probably being tortured. “Did he kill the Sinclairs?”

  There was a pause, and I looked up. Mr. Burnham and Mr. Harper were looking at each other. “He has denied any knowledge of Jonathan Sinclair’s murder,” the older man informed me, a gentle note entering his voice. “And I can safely say that it is unlikely that he was personally responsible as he was with me in London during that time. And I can think of no reason he would cause the accident that took the rest of the Sinclairs.”

  Something of my emotions must have crossed my face. “Miss Nelson, are you well?” Mr. Harper asked in concern. “Are you in pain?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. The physical pain was nothing compared to the hurt in my heart. How I had hoped that this would be the end of my masquerade. Sighing, I opened my eyes. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Nodding, Mr. Burnham hesitated. “Your letter said you were leaving. I presume this is still the case.

  Mr. Harper sent an appalled look at the older man, but I nodded. “Yes, I will gather my things and leave immediately. Will I have a letter of recommendation?”

  “I will write it personally. Wilder will have it for you when you leave.”

  “But where will she go? Where will you go, Miss Nelson?” Mr. Harper asked, turning to me. “You need to rest after last night.”

  I pushed myself to my feet. “I have an aunt,” I responded vaguely. I bobbed my last respectful curtsy and turned on my heel. I think Mr. Harper started to follow me, but a sharp word from Mr. Burnham kept him from doing so. I glanced over my shoulder before I went out the door and Mr. Harper inclined his head towards me.

  A smile curved my lips, and I firmly closed the door. I heaved a sigh and walked down the hallway. It was fortunate that my things were already packed. I reached the back staircase and started up.

  “You.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Taking a deep breath, I faced Miss Graham. Her face was blotchy and under her eyes were puffy. However, her hands were clenched tightly and her chin was jutted forward. “This is your doing,” she said, her voice a hiss. “Mr. Bridges has been carted away like a common criminal!”

  “He tried to kill me!” I protested. I let the shawl I held around my neck fall away, revealing the bruises.

  Her eyes went to the bruises, and her face paled even more. “You provoked him,” she whispered, almost desperately. “You invented those lies.”

  “For what reason?” I looked down at her. All I felt at that moment was pity. “Do you think I came into this house with the express purpose to create a lie about Mr. Burnham’s valet?”

  She glared at me. “I am being turned off, Juliet, without a reference. What am I supposed to do? This was going to be my last position as a governess. I’m not getting any younger.”

  Tiredly, I shook my head. How much of her hopes she had pinned on Bridges! What did she expect me to do? “I’m
sorry, Miss Graham.” I turned and continued on my way. My headache was worse than before, and I wanted to hide in a dark room to sleep for a week. Something that would not be possible here.

  I’d always idealized love. My parents had loved each other deeply and had been happy. Yet I had never thought about how destructive love could be. I had been given a glimpse of that when Henry had left without a word, but seeing Miss Graham’s devastation and blindness at Bridges using her; that was something else entirely.

  I had just closed my bag when the door opened. “You’re leaving?” Mary asked, a note of panic in her voice. “Why? I thought now that it’s over, you’d be staying on!”

  “After what I've been through, I have no inclination to stay,” I said with a slight smile. I picked up my bonnet and settled it on my head. “You know everything you need to know about caring for Miss Eugenia. There’s nothing more I can do here.”

  “You did not come just to train me,” Mary argued.

  “That’s right, I didn’t,” I agreed with a smile. She could not know how close she was to the truth. “It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it?”

  She stared at me in a bewildered sort of way. “But, where will you go?”

  Feeling generous, I opened my reticule and drew out a card. “If you feel you need to contact me, you may send a letter to this address. It will find a way to me, wherever I am.”

  Reluctantly, the maid glanced at the card. “What will I tell Miss Eugenia? She wanted to speak to you, but her mother wouldn’t let her come.”

  “I have left a note for her.” I nodded towards the dressing table. The notes I’d left had not been moved and would be all the explanation I could give. I doubted that Mr. Burnham wanted his daughter to know the details of everything that had happened. “It is better this way, Mary.”

  Her shoulders sagged as she gave in. “I wish you the best, Miss Nelson.”

  Impulsively, I reached out and hugged her. “And I you, Mary.”

  The door creaked as Molly pushed it open further. “Mr. Burnham has ordered his carriage ready to take you anywhere you wish, Miss Nelson.” There was nothing but curiosity in her voice. Undoubtedly, she had questions that would never be answered.

  “Thank you, Molly,” I said, stepping back from Mary. I picked up my carpet bag and turned slowly to give the tiny room one last look. I could honestly say that I would not miss it a bit. I nodded once and started for the door.

  Both of the maids trailed behind me as I walked down the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Wilder was waiting by the door. “Goodbye, Miss Nelson,” the housekeeper said, extending her hand for me to shake. “Have a safe journey.”

  I nodded my thanks and turned to the waiting butler. He extended a folded sheet of paper. “Mr. Burnham thanks you for your fine work,” he informed me formally, as though I hadn’t heard it from the man personally. “He understands that what occurred was not your fault.”

  With a nod, I took the letter of reference and slipped it into my reticule. With as confident a smile as I could muster, I turned and walked out of the Burnham house for the last time as a servant. Edward assisted me into the waiting carriage. “Where shall the driver set you down?” he asked.

  Tired of the pain that came with speaking, I used the last calling card I’d ‘borrowed’ from Aunt Beth to show him where I wished to be taken. He closed the carriage door, and a moment later, I was off.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the cushion. It had been so long since I’d been in such comfort and it lulled me into a doze. I didn’t even realize the carriage had stopped until the door was pulled open. “Miss Nelson? We've arrived.”

  First handing out my bag, I accepted his hand in disembarking. For a moment, I stared at the closest door into the house in confusion. We were at the servants’ entrance of Faircroft house, and the realization made me want to laugh. I nodded my thanks to the driver, picked up my bag, and strode forward.

  Without ringing the bell and waiting, I opened the door and entered the hall. I took a deep breath, taking in the scent of cook’s baking from the kitchen. As I stood there, my aunt’s maid, Carter, started down the stairs. Her gasp echoed off the marble floor.

  “Hello, Carter,” I forced a smile through my tiredness. “Is my aunt in her sitting room?”

  Carter rushed forward and took the carpet bag from my hand. “Lord, Miss Juliet! You gave me a fright coming out of nowhere!” she exclaimed, examining me. Her eyes widened in shock, something I would have to accustom myself to as the bruises healed. “What have you done to yourself?”

  “Acted in an abominably foolish way, of course.” I flinched, putting a hand to my throat. “My aunt?”

  “She’s in the music room,” Carter said, regaining her usual composure. “But don’t you go walking in on her and giving her a start. I’ll announce you and prepare her. I assume you’ve returned for good this time?”

  She didn’t wait for my answer as she spun away. “Carlson!” she called out. “Come take Miss Juliet’s bonnet and pelisse. Jenny! Where are you, you silly girl?”

  The elderly butler appeared, followed by the young maid. As imperturbable as ever, Carlson took my pelisse and bonnet which Carter pulled from me. Jenny grabbed my bag and hurried off with it. I desperately wanted to follow her to my room for some sleep, but I needed to see Aunt Beth first.

  “Will you require tea, Miss Juliet?” Carlson asked as Carter hurried off to warn my aunt.

  “Yes, please.” Tea would be better than nothing. I kept my steps slow as I walked to the music room. How lovely it would be to be able to play the pianoforte once again. I glanced down at my hands, calloused and rougher than they’d ever been before.

  I was halfway up the staircase when I heard Aunt Beth cry out. Fear struck my heart, and I rushed up. I spotted Aunt Beth in the doorway, and she held her arms out to me. “Oh, Juliet, dear lambkin!” she exclaimed. “You’ve come home.”

  Tears brimmed in my eyes and I hurried to her embrace. “Oh, Aunt Beth.”

  AUNT BETH CONSIGNED me to my bed immediately, insisting that she could wait for explanations until I was well. After my long hours at the Burnham’s house, the rest and lack of discussion were welcome for the first two days. The pain in my throat and my headache faded, though the bruises turned some interesting colors.

  But after that, the inactivity began to wear thin, and I begged to be allowed up. Aunt Beth insisted I was not entirely well, and wouldn’t hear of me rising. Instead, Carter was instructed to bring me something to occupy my time.

  She obligingly provided me with the Times each morning, and I pored over the notices until I found exactly what I was looking for. I penned a letter and bribed the new maid to have it sent for me.

  After five days, I insisted and was finally allowed out of my bed. It was a pleasure to put on a lovely pale blue muslin morning gown. Standing in front of a mirror, I studied my appearance and decided I almost look like my old self.

  Was I happy about that? I felt as though I had changed in so many ways during my time at the Burnhams’ house.

  Shaking my head, I sent the maid off and then made my way down to the drawing room. Aunt Beth was seated in front of the window in her favorite chair, and she had her fancy needlework in her lap. “It’s so good to see you up and about, Juliet. Are you feeling better?”

  “Much better, thank you, Aunt.” I dropped a kiss on her cheek before settling into the chair across from her. “And how are you feeling today?”

  “I am always well, silly minnow.” She waved her hand dismissively. Being called a ‘minnow’ made me laugh. “I am pleased you’ve finally returned to where you belong and furious that it took a brutal attack for it to happen. I demand you tell me how it came about!”

  I nodded and leaned forward. In as few words as I could, I detailed how I’d learned of a traitor selling information to the French, how I’d then deduced who it was, and what he had attempted to keep me quiet. Aunt Beth listened quietly but attentively, not saying any
thing until I ended with how Mr. Burnham had sent me away in his carriage.

  “A spy,” Aunt Beth said, shaking her head. “How dreadful. I hope the errant ratsbane gets what is coming to him.”

  “I do not doubt that Mr. Burnham and Mr. Harper are seeing to it.”

  My aunt became thoughtful. “I feel as though I must thank this Mr. Harper for saving you, but of course, he does not know the real you, so I suppose I will be forgiven for not doing so.”

  “As he does not know of you, I hardly think he or anyone else will hold it against you,” I agreed, biting back a smile.

  Aunt Beth turned her gaze back to me. “And did you accomplish what you set out to do?”

  “I believe Mr. Burnham will counteract the rumors. How could explain that I had been left with more questions? That I felt as though I was not yet done? “The Sinclair name will be free of all suspicion.”

  “Excellent,” she declared, not knowing my inner misgivings. “Mr. Bladen was here yesterday. He seemed anxious when I told him you were unwell. Of course, we cannot allow him to see your poor neck, but I believe that once you are healed, he will be ready to recommence your courtship.”

  “You do not even ask if I want him to do so.”

  Her expression turned to one of shock. “Juliet! How can you say so?”

  “I have changed these past five years, and no doubt so has he. I don’t know if we would be compatible any longer.”

  Reaching over, Aunt Beth patted my hand. “You must do as you think right, my dear. Only I do not wish for you to become a spinster as I am.” My shock must have shown on my face for she hastened to add, “You will always have a home here, of course.”

  “Thank you, Auntie.” I squeezed her hands, giving a slight laugh as I sat back. “It is criminal that we should be maudlin on a day like this. Shall we speak of something else?”

  She hummed a note as she picked up her sewing. “What would you like to discuss?”