Lady Blue

by Helen A Rosburg

  “When you leave tomorrow, you’ll be going north, I understand,” Harmony heard her sister say.

  “Yes, indeed. I’ll be leaving London early. It’s quite a distance.”

  Early? Then he wouldn’t call again. Harmony closed her eyes and pressed against the wall to keep from rushing into the parlor.

  “Where, exactly, is your home?” Agatha queried.

  “Almost on the Scottish border.”

  “Near which town, I mean,” Agatha persisted.

  “Near a lake, actually,” Anthony replied smoothly. “The prettiest lake in the north of England.”

  “How nice for you.” Agatha smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “Might I inquire if you have family?”

  “Of course you may. And I’ll tell that I do. My father passed on, but my mother lives in a cottage on the estate.” Anthony chuckled. “She says she prefers it to the drafty old house she had to live in with my father all those years.”

  “She sounds like a very practical woman,” Agatha said approvingly. “Have you any brothers or sisters?”

  Anthony shook his head. “I’m an only child.”

  “Cousins?”

  “Distant ones, spread about the country. We’re not a particularly cozy family.”

  I see. Well, neither was ours, actually. As you may know, my sister and our parents lived in the United States.”

  “Yes, I did know. It’s an interesting country. I hope to visit one day.”

  Agatha sniffed. “I’m sure you’ll find, as I did, you’re far better suited to the British Isles. You’re aristocracy, after all. Although …” Agatha tilted her head to one side coquettishly and smiled demurely. “I’ve never heard of the name ‘Farmington’ before. Not that I know all the lords of the realm, of course.”

  “It would be quite impossible to know them all, I’m sure.” Anthony rose swiftly to his feet. “I don’t mean to be rude, or abrupt, but I really must be on my way.”

  “Oh, Lord Allen … I hope I haven’t put you off with all my questions!”

  “Not at all, dear lady. I simply must be on about my business.”

  “Of course. Such an important man …”

  Harmony lost the shape of the words when Anthony and Agatha left the parlor.

  Tomorrow. He was leaving in the morning. She would never see him again. The unpleasantness rumbled once more in her stomach.

  This time, however, it was of her own choosing. He’d been deceitful. She didn’t want to see him again.

  Good riddance to him.

  As if to punctuate her last thought, thunder boomed directly overhead, followed by a blindingly bright flash of lightning. Harmony wondered if his coach horses had been frightened and run off with him. At the very least, he’d probably get a good soaking.

  Harmony smiled.

  Harmony was unable to see the front drive from her bedroom window. She could hear nothing either. But he had to be gone by now. His coach would be well up the drive. He was gone and she would never see Anthony again.

  Whatever it was that rose in her chest was painful and made Harmony restless. It was no longer possible to stay confined in her room.

  Once in the corridor, Harmony realized she had never even been in the opposite direction. She started up the long, dim hallway.

  How many rooms did the horrible old house have? Harmony wondered. Why had Agatha bought such a place when there was only herself, Mrs. Rutledge, and a coachman who lived in a room over the stable? Surely she didn’t have many houseguests. Who would want to come? Were all the rooms even furnished?

  Curious, Harmony stopped and turned a door handle. It was locked and she moved on. She didn’t try any others. It was just like Agatha to keep everything locked up tight like a prison.

  At the end of the corridor, however, just before a second set of stairs, Harmony spotted a door that was slightly ajar. She approached it cautiously and tried to see through the crack.

  Another sudden crash of thunder startled her, and Harmony stepped down onto the first riser. Then lightning crackled, visible to her around the edge of the door. It almost seemed to make her skin tingle. She edged forward again and put her eye to the crack.

  The room was obviously a bedchamber. It was as gloomy as her own, though a little larger. The furnishings were also a bit more ornate, and there were various bric-a-brac scattered about tabletops. Harmony was about to move on when she heard someone humming.

  The sound was tuneless, but it was humming nevertheless. Could it possibly be her sister? Harmony couldn’t resist. She pushed the door and it swung inward.

  With a gasp, Agatha spun around. She jammed what appeared to be a key into her pocket, and was obviously holding something else behind her back.

  “What are you doing in my room?” she demanded.

  “Noth … nothing, I—”

  “Out! Get out!” Agatha shrilled. She made a shooing motion with her right hand and, when she did, Harmony saw she held a fistful of money.

  Ignoring Agatha’s order, Harmony advanced into the room. She leaned to one side to see around her sister and noticed an open safe built inside a commode.

  “So that’s where you keep all your ill-gotten gains,” Harmony said dryly, amused by her sister’s reaction. Anyone would think she had walked in on Agatha in her “altogether.”

  “It’s not ill-gotten!” Agatha retorted. “It’s mine!”

  Harmony’s amusement was fleeting. Agatha’s reaction was almost scary. Her eyes bulged, red-veined where they should have been white, and her hands clenched into fists. Veins throbbed in her neck and at her temples.

  “I’m sorry, Agatha. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s mine, I tell you,” Agatha spat. “And it’s going to stay mine. All of it. If you were smart, you’d let that Lord Farmington court you. You’d do everything you could to get him to propose and marry you, because your husband’s money is all you’re ever going to see!”

  As was becoming usual whenever Harmony had an encounter with her sister, her anger ended up being the dominant emotion. It erupted and spilled over when the meaning of Agatha’s words finally registered.

  “You can’t do that!” Harmony spit back. “You have to give me my inheritance when I turn twenty-one!”

  “Oh, do I?” A sly look slipped over Agatha’s features.

  “Yes, you do, Agatha. You were only given the money to hold in trust until my majority.”

  “Well, that’s not the opinion of my solicitor.”

  “What … what do you mean?” A sinking feeling held Harmony rooted to the spot, though she longed to flee and not hear what her sister was going to say.

  “You always thought Daddy was so smart, didn’t you?” Agatha’s fists planted themselves on her narrow hips. “And you always thought you were Daddy’s girl. But Daddy’s dead now. And Mummy. They aren’t here to spoil you and coddle you and tell you you’re the best and the prettiest. They’re both gone, and neither one was as smart as they thought they were. Do you know why?”

  Harmony, stunned, could only shake her head. “Because they underestimated me, that’s why,” Agatha continued in a vicious, spiteful tone. “They never thought I was good enough, or smart enough—” “Agatha, that’s simply not—” “Oh, yes it is. Just look how they named us! You were their ‘little precious’ right from the start. They gave the beautiful name to the beautiful child, the redhead. Nothing special for the homely little brunette. I never had a chance. Until now.”

  Agatha held up her fistful of money and shook it in Harmony’s face. “According to my solicitor, the terms of our father’s will are ambiguous. To make a long story short, the money is in my care … until I see fit to give it to you. Until I determine you are mature enough, and of sound and appropriate moral character, to responsibly handle your inheritance.” An ugly crackle of laughter issued from Agatha’s thin, pale, lips. Harmony felt a chill run down her spine. “It will be a cold day in hell before I think you have any moral character at all!” Agatha
shrieked. “Do you understand, Harmony?”

  Harmony understood all too well. Her future was in the hands of a madwoman. She turned from her sister and started to run.

  “That’s it!” Agatha screeched in her wake. “Run, sister dear … run! Run to your lord and beg him to take you. It’s the only way you’ll ever escape …!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lingering clouds from the previous day’s rain hung low in the sky. They pinked with the dawn, and by the time the sun had climbed above the horizon they began to tatter and fray. Rays of sunlight found their way down and glinted off the carriage’s polished black sides.

  The four matched bays trotted smartly along the road. When they reached the turnoff into the wooded parkland, their driver slowed them. He looked askance at the well-dressed man beside him.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “I have to give it one more try, Sneed.”

  The coachman eyed the gentleman a moment longer, long face and sagging features seeming to pull farther downward. He shrugged. “Have it your way.”

  “Thanks. I guess I will.” Anthony chuckled.

  “You’ve spent too much time here already.”

  Anthony’s smile faded. “I know.”

  “Someone’s going to get suspicious if you’re not careful.”

  “I know that, too.” Anthony sighed. “But I still have to take this chance.”

  “Please tell me that if she turns you down one more time, we’re going home.”

  “If she turns me down one more time, we’re going home.”

  The coachman grunted and slapped the reins on the horses’ backs. They quickened their pace and minutes later the gloomy house with its sentry lions loomed into view. Sneed hauled on the reins and the horses halted. Anthony climbed to the ground.

  “Wish me luck, old friend.”

  “You’ll be lucky only if she turns you down again.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Anthony admitted. “Maybe you’re right.” He mounted the steps and knocked on the door.

  Harmony sat in the parlor near her sister, heart pounding so hard it was almost painful. She had heard the knock on the door, and her sense of relief was nearly overwhelming.

  Anthony had come back one last time. She knew it. It had to be him. Anthony had come back.

  “You are lucky beyond what you deserve if that is, indeed, Lord Farmington,” Agatha said tartly.

  Harmony ignored her. She could hardly look at her sister after the confrontation they had had. Agatha’s jealousy and greed had become monstrous, twisting and shriveling her soul. The situation was not to be borne.

  Mrs. Rutledge’s familiar footsteps clicked across the foyer. The front door creaked open.

  “Good morning, Lord Farmington,” the housekeeper purred. “How nice to see you again.”

  Harmony didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until she heard the housekeeper’s words. She was unable to hear Anthony’s reply, however.

  “You’ll be polite, if you know what’s good for you,” Agatha snipped. “Remember what I told you yesterday.”

  “Believe me,” Harmony said steadily, looking at her sister at last. “I’ll never forget.” She heard Agatha sniff huffily as she rose and left the parlor.

  “I think Miss Simmons is in the parlor,” Mrs. Rutledge said. “Let me tell her you’re here and see if—”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Rutledge,” Harmony said, and moved past the housekeeper to the front door. She prayed the cool expression on her face belied her inner turmoil. “Good morning, Lord Farmington.”

  Taking his cue from Harmony, Anthony inclined his head briefly and politely. “Good morning, Miss

  Simmons. I hope you’re … well.”

  “I am very well, thank you. I seem to have recovered from my indisposition of the past few days.”

  “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear it. Does that mean you would come out for a drive with me this morning?”

  “I should be delighted … Lord Farmington.”

  Anthony crooked his arm and Harmony took it. She wondered if he could feel her trembling. She bit her lip, angry with herself for her reaction.

  Anthony had lied to her. He had behaved in an unspeakable way. His trickery and deceit were beyond imagination. She should be furious, still, with him, not herself. So why did the mere touch of his arm make her tremble?

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had returned one more time.

  The driver stood by the carriage door. Harmony remembered how she had winked at him, thinking him a criminal and a coconspirator of Anthony’s. She hesitated at the small step that led up into the coach.

  “I … I’m sorry,” Harmony stammered. “When I … when I … winked … the other day, it was because I … well, I thought you were someone else.”

  Sneed looked down his long nose. “I quite understand, ma’am.”

  She had never heard him speak before. His accent was not that of a lowborn or uneducated man. Harmony blushed as she climbed into the coach. Anthony settled beside her.

  “Have you a destination in mind?” he inquired lightly. “Or would you simply like to drive a bit?”

  “Would you mind if we … if we went back to that stream, by the willow?”

  It was an effort to control his surprise and delight. “Of course I wouldn’t mind.” Anthony leaned out the window to call instructions to Sneed. A moment later the coach rolled forward.

  “You realize,” Anthony said, “that we’ll have to walk down the hill? The coach can’t get down there as there’s not a road.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  They rode in silence for a time. It was Anthony who finally broke it.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to. Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”

  Harmony continued to look straight ahead. “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Then why—?”

  “Can this wait until we stop?” Harmony interrupted. “I want to talk to you. But it’s not easy.”

  “Whatever you wish, Harmony.”

  It wasn’t long before they reached the point on the road where the coach could go no farther. Anthony didn’t wait for Sneed but opened the door and handed Harmony down himself.

  “Just wait for us, please, Sneed. I’m not sure how long we’ll be.”

  “Of course, Lord … Farmington.”

  Harmony had dressed carefully that morning, in a gown of yellow muslin sprigged with pink rosebuds that grew from green-leafed stems. Her slippers matched and made it difficult to walk down a hill slick with summer grass. Anthony noticed.

  “May I help you?”

  She feared his touch. It made it so much harder to think straight. But neither did she wish to land on her bottom and go sliding down the hill.

  “Thank you.”

  He put one arm around her waist and curled his free hand around her fingers. He was entirely too close. At the bottom of the hill, near the willow, she promptly extricated herself from his grasp.

  “We have to talk.”

  “So you said.”

  The rushing of the little river was musical. A breeze puffed, rustling the hanging boughs of the willow and blowing a long strand of dark hair across Anthony’s forehead. He pushed it behind his ear and smiled patiently.

  Harmony had thought it would help her to return to this magical spot. She had felt so comfortable, and she was sure of their privacy. So why did she find it so difficult to speak? Irritated with herself, she cleared her throat.

  “I want to be honest with you about why I came out with you today,” Harmony began eventually.

  “I respect your honesty,” Anthony replied simply.

  “Do you?” When Anthony remained silent, Harmony experienced a twinge of guilt. She reminded herself she had every right to question his honesty and forged on. “I feel betrayed by you, Anthony. But I have also been betrayed by my sister. Since she is my only living relative, and you and I are scarcely acquainte
d, I feel her betrayal is the greater. I am entirely alone in England but for you and Agatha. Therefore, I must now turn to you.”

  Anthony’s expression remained perfectly sober and composed. “I told you before that I loved you. Whether you believe it or not, it is the truth. I would do anything for you, Harmony. You only need to tell me what you wish.”

  How she wished she could believe him. Perhaps just one little test.

  “Yesterday you told my sister you had to leave because you had to travel to London so you could leave from there early in the morning to travel somewhere else on business. I had thought that meant I would not see you today. Yet, here you are. Did you lie to my sister yesterday?”

  “To get away, yes. Certainly. I certainly did tell a lie.”

  Once again, Harmony cleared her throat, both to stall and gather her thoughts, and to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’ll recall,” she continued at last, “I told you my parents left my inheritance in my sister’s care until I attained majority. Their wills also dictated I live with her until that time.”

  Anthony nodded.

  “Well, I … I’ve discovered that Agatha has discretion over my inheritance. She need not give it to me at all. At least, so she told me. According to her solicitor the terms of the will were broad enough to leave room for interpretation.”

  Anthony knitted his brow. “Did the two of you have an argument?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You told me she hadn’t believed you were kidnapped, that you concocted the event to extort money from her. That doesn’t sound like something a loving sister would say. I imagine, in fact, that she’s quite hard on you.”

  “You’re so right.” Harmony had to swallow back a sudden lump in her throat. “She’s told me that she will never exercise her discretion to give me my money.

  She says I haven’t the judgment or moral character to handle it.”

  Seeing the tears well in her eyes, Anthony longed to reach for her, crush her to his chest, and make all the evils in her world go away. He also knew how tentative the moment was, how fragile. Beyond all reason, all hope, he had been given a second chance. He wasn’t going to destroy it.