Clarence. Whom she’d found dead on the floor. She still couldn’t believe it.
They entered a spacious bedchamber decorated in shades of gold. The efficient staff had already laid out bandages, hot water and, Win was relieved to see, a clean cotton nightrail with matching dressing gown.
“If there’s anything you’d like, please let us know,” said Rosalind. “I’ll show Irene to her bedchamber now.” The duchess hugged Win, careful not to hurt her. “Welcome.”
“I’m glad we will soon be sisters,” said Irene, who hugged her gently, as well.
Once they’d gone, Jane closed the door and began arranging the supplies the butler had left for her. Win tried to reach around to untie the sash of her gown, then winced in pain.
“Here,” said Jane. “Let me help you.” She began the elaborate process of unlacing and unbuttoning her. “I’m afraid there isn’t much hope for this gown.”
“I never want to see it again,” said Win.
“I don’t blame you.” Jane helped Win step out of her gown and petticoats until she was only wearing her shift. “I have a basin with warm water and some of Rosalind’s lovely scented soap. One of the delights of visiting Lynwood House is to see which new scents she has on hand. If you like, you can wash behind the screen, but I would like to examine you after that.”
“You mean without clothes?” Win could not bear the embarrassment and shame.
“It would help me treat your wounds properly.” Jane studied her, then added quietly, “Something tells me it is not just modesty that makes you reticent.”
“It is too embarrassing.” Win dreaded displaying the evidence of Pierce’s longtime hold over her.
“Win, I believe you have been through a great ordeal and I’m not just talking about tonight. I imagine you have injuries and scars that bear witness not just to another’s cruelty but also to your own strength. I need to see you to help you. Please let me help you.”
It had been so long since Win had known such kindness that she wasn’t sure what to say. And this was from a woman she’d only just met. But there was something about Jane Kellington that invited trust. So while Win went behind the screen to finish undressing and washing, she did emerge without any clothing.
She was scared of Jane’s reaction, but all she could see on the other woman’s face was compassion.
Jane appraised the front of her, touching her swollen jaw. “Fortunately, I believe this is severely bruised, but not broken. Are any of your teeth loosened?”
“No. My husband didn’t want a toothless wife, so he learned to strike me without loosening any.”
“What a bastard,” said Jane. “Excuse my language, but I cannot think of a better description. Your nose is not broken, though your eyes are blackened. Is your vision affected?”
“Thankfully, no. Reading has been a source of comfort these many years. I would truly mourn losing the ability to do so.”
“As would I.” Jane moved her hands to Win’s ribs, probing gently. “You may have a cracked rib. I’ll need to bind it. I’m afraid it will hurt, but believe it to be necessary.”
Jane pulled out a long bandage, then had Win hold it to the front of her ribcage. Win was so intent on doing so, she didn’t think to warn Jane before she moved to Win’s back.
“Oh, Lord!” said Jane from behind her.
Win’s face flooded with color. She was so ashamed. So embarrassed.
After a moment, Jane regained her composure. “I’m so sorry, Win. But you’re away from him, now. He’ll never get the chance to do this to you again.”
“Please don’t tell anyone.” Win knew it would kill her brothers.
“I….of course, I won’t. But you must tell someone.”
“I do not…I do not have any friends.” Another embarrassing admission. But Pierce wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t risk her becoming close to anyone.
“There, you are wrong,” said Jane. “Irene is quite lovely. And while you’ve only just met Rosalind and me tonight, we are now your friends. It is simply impossible not to like her. Well, actually, considering all the disappointed ladies who had their hearts set on becoming the Duchess of Lynwood, she does have a few detractors. But I love her dearly. What do you say? Shall we all be friends?”
Win had to swallow against her tears. “Thank you. Your offer means more than I can express.”
“I look forward to getting to know you. And Violet will be in alt to meet you.”
“But I wouldn’t want to frighten her with how I look.”
Jane smiled sadly. “She may only be seven, but she understands the world is not always a pleasant place. She’ll feel bad for your injuries, but it will only make her more determined to be your friend. So, you see, tonight you have already made four female friends. Not a bad start to your new life. Now, let us get you bandaged. I’d like to apply some salve, then get you ready for bed. Your dinner should be arriving shortly.”
“I’m not sure if I’m more tired or hungry.”
“I am certain you are both. Eat as much as you can, then go to sleep.” She took Win’s hand. “You are safe here and among friends. Never doubt those two things.”
“Is everyone at Lynwood House so kind?”
“Yes. It starts at the top and emanates from there. I believe you’ll soon grow used to the Kellington way, regardless of what you’ve been used to up ‘til this point.”
“Thank you,” said Win. “I very much look forward to starting anew.”
CHAPTER THREE
Alexander Lewis sat back from the brief he was writing and stretched his arms. He’d been to the boxing salon that morning and his opponent had been skilled. Alex had gotten in a few good licks of his own, but he would feel these bruises for days.
But at least he’d volunteered for the beating he’d taken. There was a difference when it was optional.
He looked forward to the bouts not just for the physical exercise, but as a way of breaking up the tedium of his day. Not that he didn’t enjoy his profession. At two and thirty, he was a barrister, and had the distinction of being a KC, formally known as King’s Counsel. He lived and kept an office in chambers at Lincoln’s Inn off Chancery Lane. And he had earned a reputation as one of the Crown’s best prosecutors.
It hadn’t been easy. His presence was resented by the others in his chambers, most of whom were members of the aristocracy, though usually second or third sons or distant heirs. But Alex wasn’t a peer. He wasn’t even from the merchant class as some of the junior barristers were. He was a bastard, pure and simple.
His mother had been the longtime housekeeper to the late Marquess of Lanning. No one knew who his father was, though many had suspected it was the marquess himself. Lord Lanning had been very kind to him and his mother both, even going so far as to pay for Alex’s schooling. But the marquess had never admitted to being his father.
And now that both Lanning and Alex’s dear mother were dead, he’d never truly know.
Alex had been teased mercilessly in school about his parentage, so he’d had to fight back, earning a reputation as a formidable fighter. He’d grown into a pugilist’s body. He wasn’t quite six feet tall, but even now he was heavily muscled, thanks to his appointments at the boxing salon.
He was one of the best KCs in chambers, but still wasn’t fully accepted. Many barristers had studied law solely because they had to earn a living and had no desire to go to war or join the clergy. But Alex had a genuine love for the law. He was often given the most difficult cases. And it was his ability to triumph at court that made him one of the most feared prosecutors in London.
Today, he was rewriting a colleague’s brief. The man was the fourth son of an earl and had neither interest in nor aptitude for the law. However, it would look bad for chambers to file such shoddy work, so Alex had been asked to bring it up to snuff.
It was tedious work, but it wasn’t like he had much else to occupy his time. He had few friends and little chance of finding a wife, since he was a
man caught between classes.
There was a knock on the door of his small office.
“Do you have a moment, old boy?” Sir Wilfred Hollingsworth, senior barrister in chambers, entered. He was the son of a minor landowner in Derbyshire, but since receiving his knighthood had taken to emulating the peers he so ardently admired. Alex didn’t have the heart to tell him those same peers ridiculed him at every opportunity, though never within hearing distance. That was because Sir Wilfred assigned cases and barristers were not allowed to turn down assignments. If you got on Sir Wilfred’s bad side, it could haunt you for years.
It could even end your career.
The fact that Sir Wilfred was seeking him out was worrisome. When Alex was given a good case, he was summoned to learn about it. But when Sir Wilfred came calling, it meant the case was virtually unwinnable. It’s not that Alex didn’t appreciate a challenge, but given his unpopularity, if his record of wins changed he could very well lose his position.
And he couldn’t afford to do that.
“Good afternoon, Sir Wilfred,” said Alex, rising. “Please have a seat.”
“It seems you’re rather busy,” said Sir Wilfred. “Are you rewriting another one of Darlington’s briefs?”
Alex shrugged. “It is in the best interest of the Crown.”
“Good of you to pitch in, but I’m afraid you’ll have to put it aside. We have a case for you that’s frightfully important.”
Alex could only wonder what was wrong with it.
Sir Wilfred continued. “Seems there’s a Mrs. Pierce who’s offed her husband. A fairly open and shut case. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”
Now Alex was very suspicious. “Why did she kill him?”
“Haven’t the faintest idea. Word is he used to slap her around here and there, though he was completely within his rights to do so. She was his wife, after all.”
Alex stiffened. He abhorred violence against women. And though the law did give a husband the right to physically discipline his wife, he thought any man who would do so was hardly a man. And if this Mrs. Pierce had killed him to stop it, then he didn’t believe she’d committed a crime.
Unfortunately, the law disagreed with him. And it was his job to prosecute transgressions.
Sir Wilfred helped himself to some brandy. “Why so glum, Lewis? I would think you’d jump at something like this. It’ll give you another win. You need that after the Kasey debacle.”
Alex’s last case had involved the son of a viscount who’d been charged with raping a housemaid. But halfway through the trial the poor girl recanted and, though Alex had fought to prove witness tampering, the bastard had been found not guilty.
“What’s this Mrs. Pierce’s story?” Alex asked.
“She’s the sister to the Earl of Ridgeway and the unacknowledged half-sister to the Earl of Layton. And both earls will be very upset that we’re going after her.”
Alex couldn’t blame them. If he had a sister, he’d do anything to protect her. Though it was too bad they couldn’t have done something when her husband was beating her. He didn’t know either of the earls. No doubt they’d gone to Oxford. And he didn’t care if he made enemies of them. But he did worry about a woman who’d had to kill her attacker.
“Tell me why she’s a suspect.”
“Not a ‘suspect,’ Lewis. She did it, mark my word. They found her covered in blood, kneeling over the deceased. If that’s not enough to convince you, the man didn’t have an enemy in the world.”
“It sounds like he had at least one.”
“Yes, the wife. You’ll like this part, given your love for the common man…her husband was the son of a merchant and she, of course, is the daughter of an earl. This will give you the chance to even the score with all those peers who gave you such a hard time in school. Not to mention the ones around here who think you’ve risen too high for your station. I have clerks interviewing the pertinent parties at Bow Street. You should have quite the dossier by the end of the day. With any luck you can have this shrew hanged by summer. It’s always advantageous to give the rabble a good show when the weather turns hot. Well, keep me apprised of your progress.” He turned to go.
“How did she do it?”
Sir Wilfred turned back, irritated by the interruption. “Excuse me?”
“How did she kill him?”
“Slashed his throat.”
“She’s a tall woman, I take it?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Sir Wilfred narrowed his eyes at Alex, a telltale sign of his displeasure.
“How recently had she been beaten?”
“How the devil should I know? Probably not recently enough, given her proclivity to murder. I really don’t know what….”
“Because if she had been beaten recently, I’m not sure how she could have had the strength to slash his throat. It’s a difficult task for any woman, even when she’s healthy. When women kill, they’re more likely to use poison or a pistol.”
Sir Wilfred poured himself another glass, then downed it in one gulp. “I didn’t know you’d done a bloody study on the habits of murderesses. Frankly, I don’t care how she did it. You just have to win. Get cracking, Lewis. We want this wrapped up quickly."
Once Sir Wilfred left, Alex sat back and wondered how a beaten woman could overpower a man and slash his throat.
Then he wondered why they were in such a rush to close this case.
*
There is that moment between sleep and consciousness where everything is peaceful. Before pain is felt and memories come rushing back. For one blissful moment, Win thought of nothing but the comfortable bed she was in and the soothing smell of eucalyptus nearby. Which was odd, since she never had fresh plants in her room.
Then she remembered.
She sat up with a start, then winced at the pain in her ribs. She gently probed the area, then realized Jane had done an excellent job bandaging her. That was also a new experience. In the past, she’d had to tend to her cuts and bruises by herself.
Jane. Her new friend Jane.
Win gingerly got out of bed and took a slow, deep breath against the pain. Not too deep, of course. That was always a mistake with bruised ribs. She gingerly made her way over to the wash basin, trying to avoid the mirror. She was afraid to see what she looked like, especially since James was there and it would kill him when he saw her. He already had seen her, of course. But Win knew from experience that she always looked worse on the second day of a beating, sometimes even the third.
But she was no coward, so she looked up to see an image even worse than she’d imagined. Both eyes were blackened, and one was severely bloodshot. Her right cheek had a cut that corresponded to Pierce’s signet ring. Her bottom lip was swollen, with a horrible scab on it. There was a yellow tint to her skin around the bruising.
Even her long black hair had lost its luster. Jane had been kind enough to braid it the previous night, since Win had been hard pressed to raise her arms to do it herself. She had learned a great deal about anatomy during her years of beatings and apparently ribs helped a person do a great many things.
After carefully washing, she realized she had nothing to change into. She would have to ask James to send for her things since she was prohibited from leaving the house. Then she realized most of her clothes would be unsuitable since she was officially in mourning.
There was a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Win.
A very pretty servant entered, carrying a black gown. The woman curtsied. “Good morning, my lady. I’m Mrs. Rigg. My husband and I work for Lord Edward and Lady Jane. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, not at all.”
“Lady Jane wanted to be here but Master Daniel needed her – that’s her new babe. He’s quite handsome he is, but needs to be fed constantly. Just like a man.” She smiled and Win could tell the Kellingtons were quite good at picking servants. “Lady Jane said to tell you she’d be here shortly. In the meantime, I’
m to help you dress.” She laid out the simple black gown, along with the appropriate petticoats and a shift. “She said you’re not to wear a corset or be laced too tight until you heal.” Mrs. Rigg added quietly, “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Rigg.” It was a new experience to be treated with such kindness from everyone. “Who lent me this gown? I would like to thank her.”
“Her grace had it made for you since, fortunately, there’s been no cause to wear mourning in the Kellington family recently.”
“But how could she possibly have done that? I didn’t get here until late last night.”
Mrs. Rigg grinned. “She sent a footman to her favorite modiste shortly after you arrived, asking for this gown. She had to guess at your sizes, but her grace said we needed it right away – and it only just arrived. They’ll come measure you for the others as soon as you’re up to it.”
Win could not believe the trouble Rosalind had gone to for her. “This is too kind. I barely even know her grace.”
Mrs. Rigg shrugged. “’Tis just who she is. And, of course, there’s no shortage of modistes anxious to receive a commission from the Duchess of Lynwood, so there was no question this would be done on time.”
“I am so glad the gown arrived,” said Jane from the door. “How do you feel?”
“Much better, thanks to you. I cannot begin to express my appreciation.”
“It is nothing. But if you’re up to it, my daughter Violet would like to meet you.”
Win put her hands to her face. “Are you certain I won’t frighten her?”
“She has been anxious to meet you since she learned of your arrival. You are most fortunate she didn’t sneak in to watch you sleep, as she does with baby Daniel. At least I hope she didn’t. May she come in?”
Win nodded, though she braced herself for the girl’s reaction.
But she needn’t have worried. A smiling, seven-year-old girl with blonde hair and green eyes entered, holding an assortment of flowers.
Always Have Hope (Emerson Book 3) Page 3