The Three Evesham Daughters: Books 1-3: A Regency Romance Trilogy

by Audrey Ashwood

  “You must be Joseph,” Luke said and thanked the priest with a nod. “I have a task for you.”

  In that moment, a young woman stormed into the kitchen and stumbled against him. “Pater, quick,” she gasped breathlessly and did not even notice Luke. “The midwife says we need a doctor, or…” She burst into tears.

  Pater O’Donnell gave Luke a stern look, then the clergyman and the hysterically crying young woman disappeared into the hall.

  “Can we speak somewhere in private?” Luke asked Joseph, whose face immediately lit up noticeably at the sight of a shiny coin in Luke’s hand.

  “Let’s go into the garden,” Joseph suggested and walked ahead, bow-legged. The garden scarcely deserved its name, so small was the shady patch of land surrounded by man-high walls.

  “So, what can I do for you, Mister? M’Lord, I mean.” He leaned against the crooked trunk of a sickly tree, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and put on the face of a well-travelled man.

  “A friend of mine has recommended you as a trustworthy man. I would like to entrust you with a letter, and I will have to be absolutely certain that it will not end up in the wrong hands.”

  “You can rely on me. Who’s the lady?” The boy stretched out his hand expectantly, but Luke was not finished yet.

  “Lady Felicity Evesham.”

  “Why don’t you give ’er the letter yourself? Today is Monday. She always comes with Lady Blankhurst.” The frown on his forehead intensified and the boy’s eyes showed distrust towards the stranger. “She’s a nice lady… I don’t want to do anything that ’arms ’er. You can forget about that.”

  “I would have liked to bring the letter to her myself, but she insisted that you deliver it.” Luke was getting impatient. Who would have thought that he would not only have to convince a Catholic priest, but also a street urchin, of his honourable intentions? “How about, you do what…” He paused. He meant to say: “... what I pay you for,” but that would certainly not be the right approach. What was it about Felicity that caused an urchin such as this boy to be so loyal to her? “How about, you just give her the letter? You will see for yourself that she will be relieved and not afraid… and do not forget,” he quickly added, “... the lady recommended you. Would she have done so, if she did not want me to be in contact with her?” His logic seemed patchy, even for Luke, but Joseph seemed to understand what he meant to say, though he did not seem one hundred percent convinced yet. “Listen, Joseph. We both like the lady and do not want anything bad to happen to her. That is why I would like you to not only give her the letter, but also to look out for her. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Are you a runner?” the boy asked curiously.

  “No, I am not the police,” Luke said. In fact, the Bow Street Runners were actually detectives, but that did not matter now. He had an idea. “Something similar, though. It is my job to protect Lady Felicity from somebody who wants to harm her.”

  “Like the king’s guards?” This conversation had turned into a cross-examination, but Luke found it reassuring that Joseph was indeed as trustworthy as Felicity had claimed.

  “Something like that.” In a strange way, this was actually true. Luke did want to protect Felicity from somebody who meant her harm, and a guard did not do anything else.

  “Are we in agreement or not?”

  Joseph’s answer was merely the same gesture as before. He held out his hand. With an inner sense of relief, Luke handed over the letter and promised him yet another coin when he returned with a reply.

  “And where should I bring the reply?”

  Luke told him the address at Grosvenor Square and saw Joseph’s eyes widen.

  “If you need me, day or night, ask for Branwell.” If he had misjudged the little man and Joseph told Felicity where he was supposed to deliver her reply after all, then the trail would lead to the house of the Duke of Somerset, but end with his friend and chamberlain – at least for now.

  Joseph tilted his head sideways and grinned. “I would recommend that you get out of ’ere quickly. I can ’ear the ladies’ carriage approaching, and if you don’t want Lady Felicity to see you, you’ll ’ave to go now.”

  Luke did not waste any time finding out if the statement was true, but instead he swung over the back wall with the help of the sickly tree. Joseph smiled at him as if they were partners in crime, waved, and disappeared.

  Only when Luke stood on both of his feet on the other side of the wall, did he realise just how pleasurable the tough negotiation with Joseph had been for him. What on earth was wrong with him? He had never really liked children, in the same way as he did not like nosy young women who got themselves in trouble because of their own curiosity.

  However, what struck Luke the most was the fact that he felt more alert, and even more alive than ever before.

  “You can start immediately, if you want,” Felicity said to Joseph, and glanced over to Lady Blankhurst to make sure that her companion was still speaking with Pater O’Donnell. At that moment, both stepped towards her and Joseph. Lady Blankhurst smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair, despite its not exactly tidy appearance.

  “I am very pleased that Joseph will have a roof over his head and a job that he enjoys.” Joseph endured the ruffling up of his hair, but Felicity saw that with his new sense of dignity, he did not really like it. The transformation that had taken place in him seemed remarkable to her. Joseph not only seemed happy, but he also seemed to radiate a much greater self-confidence. On the other hand… if she thought about it, he had already seemed different three hours earlier, when she and Lady Blankhurst first arrived. He had winked at her conspiratorially, and she had known instantly that ‘the priest’ had kept his word and given him the letter from the blackmailer.

  “I am also very happy,” Pater O’Donnell added. “Lady Felicity and her family are trustworthy, unlike those–”

  “I’ll be fine.” Joseph interrupted him rather impolitely and grabbed Felicity’s hand to pull her a few steps aside.

  “What I actually meant to say was...” the pater continued but was interrupted once again by the young boy.

  “Thank you for looking after me. If Lady Felicity won’t mind, I can come ’ere with ’er and ’elp the cook in the kitchen.”

  “I would like that very much,” the pater replied quickly. He arched his eyebrows and seemed somewhat irritated by Joseph’s obvious need to not let him speak. What was happening here? Did it have anything to do with the letter that Joseph was keeping for her? Whilst Pater O’Donnell and Lady Blankhurst put their heads together to discuss their plans for raising money for an extension to the house, Felicity happily let Joseph pull her outside into the small garden.

  “You don’t ’ave to ’ire me just so I won’t tell anybody anything,” he declared and held out the now-copiously crumpled letter. He stared at the ground and shuffled his feet. Disappeared was the self-confidence that had only a few moments ago filled the slim shape from head to toe. It almost broke Felicity’s heart. She chose her next words carefully.

  “I know that, Joseph. But I would like to have you near me because I need somebody I can rely on.” She stuffed the letter into her reticule and pulled out the second letter that she had received this morning. “It is important that you give this to the man as soon as possible. Did he tell you when he would return here?” She held her breath.

  “I’ll see to it that ’e gets your letter.”

  Felicity let out a sigh of relief. “Please tell him to wait for me tonight at half-past eleven, at the appointed location… and as soon as you have handed this letter over to him, I want you immediately to come back to my father’s house at Hanover Square. Are we agreed?” All this was far too cumbersome. There had to be an easier way to get in contact with ‘the priest,’ without having to use Joseph! But how was it possible when she did not know the true identity of the man?

  “Tell me” – She leaned down to Joseph – “the man did not tell you his name by any chance, did he?”


  The boy shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Nah, ’e didn’t.”

  “But what does he look like? Can you tell me that?”

  “Well, ’e’s tall,” Joseph replied and frowned. “Quite tall actually, I’d say.”

  This she already knew. Felicity tried a different approach. “What about his face? Is he handsome?”

  Joseph looked at her as if she had asked him to give a lecture on the influence of mathematics on German philosophers. “I don’t know … ’e looked normal.”

  She was getting nowhere. Obviously, the face of ‘the priest’ was either completely average, which Felicity did not believe, or Joseph had never thought about male beauty.

  The boy looked almost longingly over to Lady Blankhurst and Pater O’Donnell, who were engrossed in a heated discussion, so Felicity decided not to demand any more answers. The scraps of conversation she picked up revolved around the merits of holding a charity ball versus a charity picnic.

  When Felicity did not react, Joseph volunteered another piece of information.

  “Well, ’e told me to ask for Branwell. So, what about the other letter?” She realised that she was still holding it in her hand, so she handed it over to the boy. It was the perfect moment, because at that moment the Father and Lady Blankhurst ended their friendly argument and the lady called Felicity to come to her.

  She said goodbye to Father O’Donnell with a curtsey, but to her surprise, the priest took her hand and led her a step aside. Out of the corner of her eye, Felicity saw that Joseph had already darted off.

  “May I ask what you have discussed with Joseph?” the father asked.

  Felicity felt the heat rise into her cheeks turning them red.

  “I just made sure that he would memorise my address,” she said, realising that she was defending herself against an accusation the priest had never uttered. “As you know, my parents agreed to take him into their service, and I wanted to make sure he…” She fell silent and bit her lip. She was a terrible liar!

  “I understand,” Pater O’Donnell replied. His blue eyes seemed to look all the way into the depths of her soul. “I am very disappointed in you, Lady Felicity.”

  “But…” she objected, but the priest raised his hand defensively.

  “Please let me finish, Lady Felicity.” He spoke quietly so that Lady Blankhurst, who was waiting patiently at some distance, could not hear him. “I am very grateful for your support and the work you are doing here. I am even more grateful that you and your parents have taken Brigid into your home and offered her a future. However, I cannot allow that you and… Mr Scott abuse an innocent boy in order to pursue your inappropriate affair. I am deeply troubled that you are also abusing your work here to disguise your immorality.”

  Mr Scott? The father had met the boxer. Felicity could do nothing but stare at him. At the same time, her guilty conscience reared its ugly head. She did have a secret, and she was using Joseph, even though it was not for the reasons that Pater O’Donnell supposed.

  “I… am sorry, Pater,” she said when he had finished speaking. “You are right and wrong at the same time.” It felt as if her throat was constricted. “I will not come back here anymore. Goodbye.” She turned around and wanted to walk away, but he grabbed her hand for a second time and held her tight.

  “You do know that you can talk to me at any time? Whatever you entrust to me under the seal of confession, is only between you and God.”

  Oh, how tempting that thought was, to confide in someone! But it was not possible. Her parents would never forgive her if she converted to Catholicism, no matter how much she longed for absolution in the depths of her heart.

  “Thank you, Father,” she said. She pressed the words through her much-too-tight throat.

  “One more thing,” he said. “Come back when you want to give up your connection with Mr Scott. I can help you, but only if you want to do that. Your tormented soul is seeking peace, and you will not find it for as long as you give in to sin. If you want me to, I would be happy to speak to Mr Scott.”

  She shook her head. “No, Pater, that is impossible. Goodbye.”

  With tears in her eyes, she turned around and left the house. This time, nobody stopped her.

  Chapter 12

  Joseph had kept his word and not only brought back Felicity’s answer, but also the expected second letter from the blackmailer. The curt message regarding the time and place worried him, because once again, there was no demand for money. What did the sender of the letter hope to achieve?

  He sat in his library and turned the piece of paper between his fingers absentmindedly. He had no other choice. He had to convince Felicity to tell him the whole truth, or he would never be able to find the extortionist. The writing contained hardly any clues. The paper was of medium quality, the choice of words too short to draw conclusions about the sender. The only thing that stood out to him was the handwriting, which looked choppy and seemed – in a hard-to-grasp way – strained. Luke’s first impression was that the writer of these lines had not been someone who was used to writing. What conclusion could he draw from that? Was the crooked-looking handwriting a skilful ploy, or did it mean that behind the crime was an uneducated, barely literate mind?

  As he locked the letter away in the secret compartment, Luke had to remind himself that in all of the mess and the increasing difficulties, there were two glimmers of light. For one, there was Joseph, who was about to take on his position in the Evesham’s household and who would be able to notify Luke when the lady was in danger. Who would have thought that he would end up with a small boy as his ally – and actually appreciate it?

  Secondly, there was the fact that Felicity had passed on the second letter to Luke instantly. He knew that her actions were based on her desperation to secure an ally for herself in whatever way possible, but he could not help but think that she was beginning to trust him.

  As he got up and took his dark clothes out of the closet, he wondered if her response to his identity as Lord Layton would really be as devastating as he feared. Well, he would know more after tonight. If everything went as he thought it would, he would not need a dramatic revelation on his part, nor would he have to squeeze the truth out of Felicity. His plan was as simple as it was promising: whilst the lady spoke to the extortionist, pleading with the man to allow her one more night to consider (which Luke would instruct her to do beforehand), Joseph would look out for her. He, too, would keep watch over her – but from the shadows. He would then follow the man back to his quarters, where he would convince him to abandon his shameful plans.

  So far, so good. There were a lot of incalculable issues that could arise, but from Luke’s experience (and also, as he had to reluctantly admit, from the colourful memories of his father’s time as a spy in the service of the crown), the simplest plans were often the best. The more complicated the manoeuvre, the higher the likelihood that the opponent would jumble the carefully planned moves by doing something unforeseen. It was like boxing, Luke thought, as he slipped into his pantaloons. What really mattered was the will to win, having confidence, and being flexible. Nobody was infallible, least of all himself, but he was absolutely determined to see Felicity smile again.

  There was a knock on the door, and before he could say “Come in,” his brother stood in the room. John’s gaze wandered from Luke’s face to his black clothes.

  “So, are you getting ready for your next defeat?”

  Luke, in turn, looked at him with raised eyebrows, but preferred not to answer the theoretical question.

  “Well, when I look at how you dressed up, even a knockout seems like the better choice,” Luke replied. This comment had its desired effect as the provocative grin disappeared from his brother’s face. He fingered the edges of his elaborately bound cravat uncomfortably.

  “Did I overdo it?”

  Luke stuffed the fabric mask into the pocket of his spencer. He walked over to his dresser and took out a tie pin from the top drawer, wh
ich matched John’s dark-green vest and black trousers better than the pretentious thing decorating the centre of the knot right now.

  “You should either change your valet… or your friends,” Luke commented and placed the pin onto his white collar. “A striking piece like this demands modest clothing. Apart from that, with this wild-patterned vest, you will impress any young lady who appreciates a well-groomed man.”

  “Do you think so?” John looked at himself critically in the mirror. “The lady is from Italy. She does understand fashion, and my tailor assured me that green was my colour.”

  Luke laughed and gave John a friendly slap on the shoulder.

  “If the senora is colour-blind, then you might stand a chance, my friend. Otherwise, let us hope that she is well disposed enough towards you to generously overlook your adventurous taste.” He reached for his cane and spun it once through the air. “Who is the lady, and where did you meet her?”

  “Her name is Julia Scarlatti,” John explained. “I may have mentioned her name before.”

  “It is very possible that you have,” Luke replied dryly, remembering his brother’s sparkling eyes when he had suggested he take Lady Felicity behind the stage of the opera.

  “She is smart and independent. She is beautiful and she also has a considerable fortune. What more could I ask for?” John asked rhetorically.

  Luke wondered why an established woman needed to be on the stage, but maybe she loved to sing before an audience. He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “I would love to talk with you longer, but I have to go.”

  It was already ten o’clock and he wanted to check the area around St Botolph’s again, before he met Felicity a few streets south of the church. He hoped Joseph had repeated his instructions word for word, and he also hoped that in her own stubbornness, she would not think of some better idea.

  “I wish you a pleasurable night with your beautiful Italian woman.”

  With those words, he left his brother behind and set off for Whitechapel.