As he tried to process where a chamber could possibly lead, the horses became uneasy in the stables. He could hear a mix of roars and snorts and ran to the stables. He and Jedediah went into the stables to see what had caused the horses' distress. They were sensitive and would hear sounds that humans couldn't.
"Calm down, there's a girl," Bartley went into one stall where the mare was extremely agitated.
"What is that sound?" he asked. Was that what startled the horses? But the sound stopped. He cocked his ear, straining to hear the sound again but nothing. Then he heard a wail, or maybe a scream, that set the horses off again.
"Help, I need some help," Bartley called out. The snow was dampening any sounds. He walked the mare out of her stall, and Jedediah took her outside. Some of the stable boys were coming to his aid, and he sent one to find the inspector. Could the secret chamber run this length of the garden from the house and into the stables?
He went back inside the stall, and with his foot, began to shove the straw around. There was no sign of a trap door or hatch, but it had to be near here. It dawned on him that the horses wouldn't be put in stalls with trap doors. It had to be outside.
He called for more light as he made his helpers sweep and clear the floor. The Inspector arrived as Bartley told him of what he heard. It was the best clue they had so far, and even the skeptical Inspector wouldn't deny it.
"Lady Amelia, I'm coming for you," he called out. "If you can scream again, please do, my love. We need to hear you," he called out frantically. The inspector called for everyone to stop as they listened out. As they were about to resume clearing, a faint bang was heard.
"She heard me. Work faster. We have to get to her." Bartley worked harder than anyone else, and his efforts were rewarded when he found the trap door.
He opened it up and looked inside.
"Lady Amelia, I've found you," although he could not yet see her, he jumped into the passageway. Lifting his lamp and turning it to full, he saw the cramped tunnel, and there ahead of him was Lady Amelia in a heap on the floor. He ran to her, while he called for help.
"Bartley, have I died?" she asked.
"Oh, my love, you are not getting away from me that easily," he smiled at her.
"Lady Amelia, where are the others?" Inspector Grimshaw was eager to find the others.
His question seemed to give Lady Amelia the rush of adrenaline that was needed.
"Henrietta, Lucille. It's too far to go back this way. Take me to the room and I'll show you," she screamed out.
With him supporting her, Lady Amelia rushed back to the room. John just watched as Lady Amelia sat in the chair and showed them how to open the passage. With the wall secure, John and the inspector ran down the stairs, and soon the women were safe.
Chapter 7
All the guests agreed that Lady Henrietta, now Duchess of Kentonville, looked radiant on her wedding day. Mary had styled her mistress's hair to disguise the gash on her forehead from her fall.
Stories circulated that Henrietta had gone missing, but many believed the story was just a rumor when they saw Lady Henrietta and the duke in such good spirits.
The carriage ride to St. George's Church on Christmas morning was breathtaking. Snow lightly dusted the trees and ground, and with the sunlight shining just right, it looked as if the city was covered in sparkling jewels.
John looked like a new man. He could look forward to being a husband to the most wonderful woman he had ever met. Carrying Lady Henrietta out of the hiding place to safety provided an intense mix of emotions. His heart was glad at her safe return, but the state of her health had him very worried.
The doctor arrived immediately. Although she was mildly dehydrated, Henrietta was in good health and recovered quickly.
At their wedding breakfast, the duke and duchess celebrated the start of their new life together.
"You look beautiful this morning, Lady Amelia. I trust you are feeling much better." Bartley admired her as they waited to be called for the wedding breakfast.
"Thank you, My Lord. It is very gracious of you to say such a thing. Indeed, I am feeling well.”
If her ordeal had taught her anything, it was never to take anything or anyone for granted. Just days earlier, Amelia had questioned Henrietta about being so hasty in love. Now, Amelia’s heart had been stolen in a whirlwind romance.
Amelia had also had to recover from dehydration, so she was unable to see Bartley these last couple of days. The doctor had strict instructions that she must stay in bed.
Bartley found a way to communicate with her through letters, which he seemed to be writing hourly. Each letter brought Amelia a little bit of joy. In one of his first letters, Bartley explained his newfound discovery. When searching for the architectural plans for the house, he came across some old letters from the previous duchess. The letters explained the details of the passageway. It turned out that there had been rumors of an uprising against the ton. The previous duchess was in such a fright that she had a secret passageway built, but didn’t want many people to know about it. She remodeled the room as a guise, so not very few individuals knew that the real reason for the remodel was to build a secret room, where she could hide with her husband in case they needed help. While in the midst of the remodel, the architect discovered the strange light reflection from the two mirrors and built that into his plan as the way to access the secret room.
Bartley’s letters were filled with stories and anecdotes that made Amelia laugh and sometimes cry. Amelia found that she could be much more expressive in her letters than she could with her words. Bartley’s letters expressed his love from the beginning, but Amelia’s letters soon followed suit.
In Bartley’s final letter before the wedding, he offered a marriage proposal. Amelia had yet to answer.
“Well,” said Bartley. “Is there anything else you would like to say to me?”
Amelia smiled as she looked down, suddenly nervous about making eye contact. She couldn’t believe that she was considering marriage to a man she had barely known a week.
“You do know you would have to ask my father,” said Amelia.
“I have already bought my ticket to Stannington,” beamed Bartley. “I was going to call on you soon after you returned home.” Bartley then realized what her words meant. “Are you saying you will marry me?”
“If my father approves, yes, Bartley, I will marry you.”
Amelia’s eyes met his, as they were both filled with joy.
Lady Henrietta couldn't be happier to think that her wedding had produced such a wonderful match between her closest friend and her husband’s cousin.
When the women were in private, Henrietta cupped Amelia’s hands and asked, “You do love him, don't you?"
"I do. I never thought I would fall in love, but now that I have, well, it is rather wonderful," she smiled through her tears of joy.
***
The End
Conflicted Heart
Edgefield Dukedom: Book Three
Text Copyright © 2017 by Caroline Johnson
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2017
Publisher
Love Light Faith, LLC
400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33302
www.LoveLightFaith.com
Conflicted Heart
Edgefield Dukedom: Book Three
By: Caroline Johnson
Conflicted Heart
Chapter 1 – The Envy of Many
Few women could compare to the beauty of Lady Jane Stone. She was b
lessed with hair the color of summer sunlight, warm and golden, and eyes that were as blue as the sky at midafternoon. Her complexion was soft and pale, and not a blemish marred her almost perfect features. Slender and tall, mysterious and poised, her mother often told her that she was the model of womanhood, something for all young ladies to strive for, even her own sisters.
She was the envy of many, the equal to few, and what was perhaps the most devastating thing of the whole matter was that she was well aware of it. Of all of it.
Now, she was not as conceited as some might think. At least, she herself did not think that. She was the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Edgefield, who were well-respected and important in society. While Jane’s siblings were humbled by it, and acted in such a way, Lady Jane took it as a source of pride. She would never admit that she was better than anyone else, but she did believe it, in a sense. It was not her fault that she was who she was, was it? She was the product of her parents’ lineage, and their parents before them.
She was also now the oldest siblings to still live in the Edgefield estate, her two eldest brothers having been married and in their own homes. Her eldest brother, Lord Bridgewater, and his lovely wife lived in the large manor at the edge of her father’s land. Her next oldest brother was now a vicar, who gave up living a life of luxury to enter the church and marry a woman who was not of noble birth. Jane did see something romantic in it, but she could still not understand her brother’s desire to make the choices that he made. It was no matter though, since she was aware that his concerns lay elsewhere, and he never thought the workings of society of much importance.
Their poor father was now at his wit’s end with a house full of women and often found any excuse to go on long walks or to have friends over far more often than Jane remembered. She and her sisters found it quite amusing, and they would often discuss it and tease their father.
Their mother had now shifted her own focus. “Now, this ball this weekend is sure to be beneficial to you all,” she said one afternoon as the family enjoyed tea together in the garden.
Summer had come to the estate, and in the lazy, late days, Jane noticed the trees beginning to change. “Fall has come early this year,” Jane said, almost wistfully as she gazed up into the trees.
“Well, this Saturday is the first of September, dear,” her mother continued, as if she had not been interrupted. “Have you all tried on the new dresses that I had made?”
Jane’s sisters were both younger than she was by nearly three years. She was just one and twenty, which surprised many people, but she always told them that she had not felt as if she wished to marry earlier than that. She believed she was not old enough or wise enough to make any such decisions.
Truly, she had not found the ideal match yet, and that was why she had refused as many offers of marriage as she had. She was not like other women who should jump at any offer made to them. No, because of her father’s place as a wealthy duke, she could choose a man that suited her. She didn’t need to marry for money.
Her ideal husband was out there. Someone who was also well respected in society, and someone who would be worthy of her name.
“Yes, mother, and frankly, it was not to my taste,” Margaret said, crossing her arms across her chest.
Jane rolled her eyes and glared at her youngest sister, a small, frail little girl with mousy brown hair that curled in every direction. Margaret was quite plain in comparison to her siblings. She was still very much a young girl, who enjoyed running outdoors and chasing her cats down the long halls of the manor. And yet, the woman she was becoming was almost as concerned about her future as Jane. This fact both pleased and troubled Jane. She cared deeply for her youngest sister, but wished that she would grow into her wisdom sooner than later.
“Not to your taste?” Beatrice asked, her dark blonde hair tied loose in a low chignon at the nape of her neck. Her green eyes studied her youngest sister. “Honestly, it is as if you expect the Queen’s seamstress herself to design a dress just for you.”
Jane smirked. Beatrice the clever one. Jane appreciated her middle sister’s wit, and she was also quite charming. Most men were intimidated by Beatrice’s character, but Jane was fiercely proud of it.
Beatrice turned and looked at her mother. “I think the dresses were exquisite, Mother. And Margaret’s dress was perfectly lovely on her.”
“Wonderful,” their mother said, a wide smile on her face.
Jane smirked at the aghast look on Margaret’s face. Beatrice merely shrugged her shoulders.
“Now, we will be arriving at the duke’s estate at dusk, at which point we will be greeted by the duke, duchess, and their eldest son.”
At this point, their mother looked over at Jane.
“What?” Jane asked.
“He will be looking for you,” Beatrice answered for her. “I’m sure of it.”
Their mother smiled and nodded her head in agreement. “Indeed, he will be.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “They’re always looking at Jane,” she said, the bitterness more than obvious.
“Margaret Katherine Stone,” their mother said, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed. “Could you perhaps be more thoughtful when choosing your words?”
“No man will ever look at you with that sort of attitude,” Jane added, folding her own arms over her chest and sitting back in her chair.
Margaret glared at her sister.
“Mother, will Robert and Alice be coming to this ball?” Beatrice cut in quickly, preventing Margaret from saying anything that she might regret.
Their mother shook her head. “No, not this time, unfortunately. Your brother is conducting quite a few weddings this time of year, and it is not wise for them to take time off now. They will be visiting for a week at the end of November.”
Beatrice sighed.
“And what of John and Agnes?”
Margaret brightened at the mention of their eldest brother. “Oh, I do hope they will join us. Although if I were them, I don’t know if could leave a baby as precious at William home with the nanny.”
Jane felt a swelling of pride at thinking of how their family had already begun to grow. William was the most perfect baby that she had ever seen, and she was elated to be able to call him her nephew.
“No, I am afraid they will not be joining us either. I called on Agnes yesterday. William is teething and has been almost insufferable because he is not on a proper sleep schedule.”
Margaret sat back in her chair, looking dejected.
“He is only six months old,” Jane reassured her.
“I suppose,” Margaret said.
“This ball will be an important one for you girls. Everyone knows that we now have only girls in our household, and that our focus will be on ensuring that you all make good matches as well.”
Beatrice and Margaret both nodded, and Jane looked out over the gardens. Her mother’s idea of a good match and her idea were often not the same. Her mother had scolded her the first three times she had turned men down for asking for her hand in marriage. She had plainly told her that none of them were what she wanted. When her mother asked what she wanted, she replied simply that she would know when she met him.
“Pardon me, Your Grace, but some letters have arrived.”
A tall, thin man with a thick, grey moustache appeared, carrying a silver tray with several letters perched on it. He bent down low enough for her mother to pull them from the tray.
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” she said, beginning to look through them. “Has there been word from my husband yet?”
Mr. Barnes smiled and nodded his head. “Yes, he just arrived home, Your Grace.”
Their mother smiled in reply to the man. “Wonderful. When you see him, please let him know that we are out here, and that he may join us if he wishes it.”
Mr. Barnes smirked. “Does Your Grace insist that he would wish to join you?”
She grinned at him in reply. “That would be most delightful, Mr. Barnes. Than
k you.”
“I shall inform him right away.”
Jane noticed a letter that had her own name on the front. Her mother noticed it at the same time.
“Not one, but two letters for you, Jane,” she said and passed them to her.
No one reacted, aside from Margaret, who scowled when her mother didn’t hand her any letters.
Jane was used to getting letters. Quite a few of her friends lived throughout England, most of them married already. On top of that, many men sent her letters as well, filled with poems and sonnets and stories written about her and her beauty.
She was surprised, however, to discover that the two letters were neither of these things. They were from men, indeed, and most likely were men who were interested in marrying her.
“Who are they from?”
Jane looked over the top of one of the letters to see Margaret and Beatrice both watching her. She smirked. She knew from the looks on their faces that they were watching her face carefully for any reactions she may have, in hopes that they would give them some sort of clue as to who had sent the letters.
“This one is from Lord Greenshire,” she said calmly, turning it over to the other side.
“The duke’s son?” Even her mother was interested.
Jane nodded, feeling her heart beat a little faster.
“What did he say?” Both of her sisters were staring eagerly at her.
Jane flipped the letter back over to the front and read it out loud for her sisters and mother.
“Dear Lady Jane, I hope this letter finds you well. It has come to my attention that you and your family will be attending the ball that my parents are holding this coming weekend. I wished to send my well wishes to you ahead of time and let you know how pleased I am that you will be there.”
Christmas Wishes: The Love of a Marquess Page 7