The Hollow of Fear

by Sherry Thomas

  “Whatever their situation is, ma’am, I can assure you that it has nothing to do with my sister.”

  Lady Somersby soon moved on. Livia slumped into a chair, feeling as if she’d wrestled a bear. If only she had any confidence that she had been the winner of the contest—or at least a survivor.

  * * *

  “Miss, the carriage is ready to take you to the village,” said the butler to Livia as she left the breakfast parlor the next morning.

  Livia had been thinking, rather intensely, of getting away from Stern Hollow for a bit. She still loved her room, of course, and she longed to explore the grounds. But the current atmosphere, with the gossip ladies in residence and all the other guests whipped into a frenzy of curiosity, was hardly conducive to her peace of mind.

  “I haven’t ordered a carriage.”

  Her luck was such that if she didn’t point this out but tried to take advantage of the butler’s mistake, he would realize his error just as she was about to climb into the carriage, and she would be left on the front steps looking like the fool she was.

  “His lordship ordered it for you, Miss Holmes.”

  Livia had to swallow past a lump in her throat—she was not accustomed to being looked after so thoroughly. “Do please thank his lordship for me. Tell him I’m beyond grateful.”

  As it turned out he was there in front of the house when she arrived. Her smile faltered, however, when she noticed his bloodshot eyes—it was as if he hadn’t slept at all.

  She cursed the gossip ladies. “Are you all right, sir? You look a little under-rested.”

  “I’m well.” His voice, too, sounded scratchy. But his hand was steady as he helped her into the carriage. “Take as much time as you need in the village.”

  It was only as the door of the carriage closed that she realized he had left a folded note in her gloved palm.

  From High Street, make your way to Rampling Cottage on foot, a twenty-minute walk. You will be warmly received there.

  * * *

  “Oh, Charlotte,” Livia murmured. “Charlotte. Charlotte. Charlotte.”

  She must have held her sister for a solid two minutes, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  Reluctantly, she let go, and only because Charlotte did not enjoy sustained contact. “Is your Mrs. Watson here?”

  “She went out for a walk. Usually I go with her. But given what happened at Mrs. Newell’s, I thought chances were good Lord Ingram would point you my way as soon as possible.”

  Livia resisted the urge to enfold Charlotte in another long embrace, but she did cup Charlotte’s face and kiss her on the forehead. Her sister had taken all this trouble to station herself nearby, just so they could meet. “You should have told me.”

  “There’s always the risk that my letter goes astray. Mamma and Papa can’t do anything to me, but they could keep you at home and not allow you to go anywhere. Which would not have been a desirable outcome.”

  Charlotte showed Livia into a plainly furnished sitting room, where a tea tray had already been set out. Charlotte put a kettle to boil on a spirit lamp. Then she set a plate laden with sliced cake and finger sandwiches before Livia. “You haven’t been eating properly.”

  “When you’re not there, nobody cares whether I eat or not.”

  “I’m here now, so tuck in.”

  A sandwich in hand, Livia told Charlotte about Lady Avery’s letter. Charlotte, however, was more interested in the flooding at Mrs. Newell’s house. And when Livia had given a satisfactory account, she asked, “How long will her guests stay at Stern Hollow?”

  Some of Livia’s delight at her reunion with Charlotte was already draining away. “Word is we will be there no more than three days. Obviously, Mrs. Newell’s party ended the moment the cisterns broke and we are at Lord Ingram’s not to continue the revelry but to make other arrangements without being too rushed or uncomfortable.”

  She didn’t want to go home yet. She never wanted to go back home.

  “Poor Lord Ingram. He didn’t look well this morning. Can you imagine, having to host Lady Avery and Lady Somersby, who are going about pondering—right under his roof, no less—whether his wife left because she discovered that he’d been keeping you?”

  Charlotte tsked. “For gossips of their distinction, they should know that Lord Ingram has far too many scruples to keep me. That man can be frustratingly hidebound.”

  Livia’s brows shot up. Surely Charlotte didn’t mean she found out for herself that Lord Ingram wouldn’t take her for a mistress? No decision on Charlotte’s part, however outlandish, should surprise Livia anymore. But she was surprised at this possibility—perhaps even a little shocked.

  “Anyway,” murmured Charlotte, “he and I are only friends. Let people think what they will. It can’t hurt me. Nor will it reduce his standing in the long term.”

  Clearly Charlotte, like Lord Ingram, was minimally concerned with the information ladies Avery and Somersby were currently disseminating. If Charlotte, with her extraordinary perspicacity, didn’t see anything to worry about, then Livia had absolutely no reason to go on agonizing.

  Or at least every reason to ignore the misgivings that refused to go away on their own.

  A question occurred to her—she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. “Do you know why Lady Ingram left so abruptly?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “No.”

  Livia sighed and took a bite of a finger sandwich. “I guess I’d better tell you about Bernadine, then. She’s no longer at home.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Mrs. Watson returned from her walk.

  Had she not been so sincerely amiable, Livia would have been roundly intimidated by her beauty and confidence. As it was, her delight in meeting Livia melted away not only Livia’s feeling of being overawed but also her remaining wariness toward a woman of the demimonde, even one who had been so instrumental to Charlotte’s success and independence.

  Charlotte had mentioned that occasionally Mrs. Watson dressed with unnecessary splendor to warn “proper” ladies that she wasn’t one of them. Such must not have been her objective today. While her dress did not lack flair, it still possessed an elegance that made Livia sigh with aesthetic longing.

  And she was so warm, so maternal without being in the least limiting, that Livia found herself confiding about her recent difficulties with the second half of the Sherlock Holmes story. Charlotte had told her that she could do it, but Mrs. Watson made her believe that she indeed would. Being encouraged by her felt like those rare occasions when Livia threw aside her parasol and simply lifted her face to the sun.

  As reluctant as she was to leave the cottage, she returned to Stern Hollow with a smile on her face and floated up the grand staircase. Now she would sit in her beautiful room and luxuriate in memories of the outing: Charlotte’s sweet face, Mrs. Watson’s beautiful soul, and the renewal of hope in her own heart.

  Perhaps she would even take out the moonstone, cup it in her hands, and—

  Lady Avery was in her room, hastily closing a nightstand drawer.

  Livia stared at her, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Ma’am, wh—what are you doing?”

  Lady Avery’s eyes darted to the space behind Livia, as if wondering whether she’d been discovered by more than just insignificant Olivia Holmes. But there was no one else in the passage.

  Livia stepped inside and closed the door. “Lady Avery, why are you in my room?”

  Her voice was unsteady—she was not accustomed to demanding answers.

  Lady Avery studied Livia, her gaze more calculating than worried. “Well, I don’t mind telling you, Miss Holmes. My sister and I received intelligence that there is to be a very grand act of indiscretion here at Stern Hollow, among the guests Mrs. Newell brought from her house.”

  Livia’s eyes bulged.
“And you think I am to be the perpetrator of that indiscretion?”

  “No, no, quite the opposite. You have never shown the slightest proclivity for breaking rules. But we must be thorough, you see, and not overlook anyone simply because they seem unlikely. Yours is, in fact, the last room I checked and as expected, I found nothing of interest.”

  Livia’s heart thumped with both fury and furious relief: She had brought two of Charlotte’s letters on this trip—and had carried them on her person instead of leaving them behind for nosy housemaids to discover.

  And that precaution had saved her from the gossip ladies.

  “Do please leave.”

  “Of course.”

  Lady Avery paused upon reaching the door, then turned around. “I have a proposition for you, Miss Holmes. How would you like to hunt for this grand indiscretion alongside my sister and myself?”

  Livia blinked. “I— What? You want me to search other guests’ rooms for you?”

  “No, no, that’s all done. You are an intelligent and observant young woman. You will be an asset in uncovering this major indiscretion.”

  Livia often berated herself for being stupid, but she immediately grasped the nature of Lady Avery’s offer. “You’re afraid that unless I join you, I’m going to tell Lord Ingram that you are transgressing on his hospitality and browsing the belongings not only of his guests but possibly of himself.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, young lady—Lord Ingram’s rooms are secured with devices quite beyond our ability to tamper with. But yes, you are right about the rest of it.”

  Lady Avery sighed softly. “We are feared by those with something to hide and welcomed by the rest—but that welcome is conditional. As long as we have plenty of gossip, doors will open for us. The moment we can no longer provide the latest on-dits, we’ll be just another pair of annoying busybodies.”

  “So you resort to underhanded tactics.”

  Lady Avery held up a finger. “Hardly ever. We rely on listening more than anything else—and when necessary, close questioning and record-checking. But this has been a frustrating summer. First your sister goes missing and we can’t find out what has happened to her. Then Lady Ingram bolts to Switzerland and we are in the dark as to her reasons. If this goes on much longer, people will begin to wonder whether we’ve lost our knack.”

  Livia had trouble keeping her lips thinned in disapproval, when her reaction was more astonishment than anything else. It had never occurred to her that ladies Avery and Somersby might worry about their places in Society: They’d been such permanent fixtures that she’d assumed they’d always remain permanent fixtures.

  “So we must uncover this major indiscretion. Of course, we didn’t want to search the guests’ belongings.”

  Except they had.

  Elsewhere Livia might hesitate to expose them, but here she would not worry about not being believed. And should Lord Ingram choose to inform Mrs. Newell—after all, the gossip ladies were her guests—his accusation would land precisely where ladies Avery and Somersby were most vulnerable.

  They were already figurative snoops of such renown, it would take very little to convince Society that they also happened to be literal snoops. While they were more than welcome at many stately manors when it was thought all they brought was titillating entertaining, a hostess would think thrice about inviting them into her home, should it become known that they would, in fact, riffle through every room, looking for incriminating evidence.

  Amazement descended upon Livia. She, who was so powerless in almost every respect of her life, was, for once, the one with the advantage. Over someone like Lady Avery, no less, someone who had always seemed as powerful and indestructible as a swarm of locusts.

  But she was able to savor that feeling of might for only a fraction of a second. If only she’d interrupted Lady Avery before she’d blabbed to everyone about Charlotte and Lord Ingram’s encounter in the tea shop! Had such been the case, she’d have been able to save Lord Ingram some unpleasantness.

  Beyond that, she had no idea how she could possibly make use of the situation.

  What she did know was that she shouldn’t let her advantage slip away, simply because she hadn’t worked out how to exploit it.

  “Lady Avery, I’m afraid I cannot possibly help you and your sister. We are in very different positions in life. You were respectably married and in widowhood you enjoy a generous dower. I, on the other hand, have no money and few prospects. And the sister whom I had counted on to be my companion in old age is nowhere to be found. I am in no position to pursue anyone else’s indiscretions, when what I wish for the most is that no one had hunted down my sister’s and ruined all our lives.”

  She opened the door, dramatically yet firmly.

  After a moment, Lady Avery walked out.

  Five

  The breeze was pleasant on Livia’s cheeks—she’d been going uphill for the past ten minutes. Had she been standing still, it would have felt a little frosty.

  The unseasonable balminess of the past two days couldn’t last. Somewhere nearby a mass of cold air was on the move, its vanguard encircling Stern Hollow.

  The imagery made her shiver a little, as if winter had already arrived.

  She tried to dwell on the remaining warmth of the afternoon, the quiet serenity of the woods, and the sun that was still some distance above the horizon, generously shedding its light. But without quite realizing it, her mind turned to a different autumnal day, a different pretty estate.

  Moreton Close. Bernadine, her sister who, if she hadn’t been rail thin, would have resembled Charlotte a great deal. Her life at home had not been ideal, but it had been safe enough and stable enough. Who could vouch for the new place where their parents intended to stow her for the remainder of her natural life?

  Charlotte had been quiet after Livia had spoken of Moreton Close, of its disarming coziness and its seemingly content residents. And then she had said, “I’ll take a look myself.”

  “But you won’t be able to,” Livia reminded her. “They don’t let anyone in who’s never been invited there before.”

  “Wait until you meet Mrs. Watson. No one will refuse to open a door when she stands on the threshold.”

  And Mrs. Watson had indeed possessed that magical quality, and Livia had felt a burden lift from her shoulders. Between Charlotte and Mrs. Watson, they would see to it.

  But now anxiety returned.

  Ferreting out the truth about Moreton Close would take time, even if they could finagle an invitation. After all, Livia had been inside—and hadn’t found any cracks in the façade. What would happen to Bernadine in the meanwhile?

  What if Dr. Wrexhall, who seemed so competent and reasonable, turned into a monster like the evil Mr. Hyde when all the visitors had left? Who would protect Bernadine then? Who would make sure that she wouldn’t be—

  “Miss Holmes, are you lost?”

  Lady Avery and Lady Somersby, the vultures themselves.

  After the confrontation with Lady Avery, knowing that the gossip ladies were in fact after a different and much bigger target, Livia’s sense of foreboding had eased somewhat. Let them chase their mirage. May it take up all their waking hours and leave them no time or energy to remember Charlotte and Lord Ingram.

  “No, thank you,” she said coolly. “I am not lost.”

  But she had wandered off the path into a grove of aspens. As sunlight slanted through, the slender tree trunks were almost white. And the undergrowth had turned the same golden hue as the shimmering canopy of leaves high overhead.

  “Will you head back with us? The temperature is dropping fast now,” said Lady Avery.

  Livia almost declined by reflex. Then she remembered that she had caught Lady Avery riffling through her room. Their offer wasn’t an order but something closer to an apology.

  She supposed she could be magnani
mous while she held the upper hand. “Certainly.”

  They walked for some time in silence, then Lady Avery said, “We spoke to the servants.”

  “And did they shed any light on this ‘great indiscretion’ you are seeking?” Livia wasn’t magnanimous enough to keep her tone free of snideness.

  Lady Avery exchanged a glance with her sister. “We have discussed this and we have decided to tell you the truth. The part about the great indiscretion I made up on the spot. What we are investigating is not an indiscretion but an injustice.”

  “Injustice?” Livia couldn’t help her incredulity. “What do you care about injustice?”

  “From the very beginning we have cared passionately about injustice,” said Lady Avery in all seriousness. “We move in Society and must speak its language and accumulate its currency—so we are fluent in enmities, liaisons, and financial entanglements going back several generations. Indiscretions and whatnot are amusing, we will not deny that. But along with an interest in sin, we have always been determined to unearth injustice where it exists and do what we can to remedy the situation.”

  Livia almost tripped over a stone that poked up from the ground. What was the woman going on about?

  “You are probably not familiar with employment agencies for domestic service,” Lady Avery went on. “But we always pass along what we know—if the master of a house takes advantage of the maids, or if the mistress works them too much and docks wages unfairly.

  “We warn mothers of young ladies, or young ladies themselves, if we think they can handle such intelligence, when we know certain alarming things about young men they might consider marrying. Sometimes they marry them anyway, because they refuse to believe us or because their parents exert undue pressure. But we do what we can.

  “Anyway, our point is, we try to prevent or expose injustice. Often we can’t speak aloud—the culprits hold too unassailable a position or the consequences are too adverse, should it be found out who had passed on the information. But we do speak quietly, and we do inform as many people as possible, especially those who must brush up against their spheres of influence.”