by Hazel Hunter
“Lord Carlton has written to the bishop. It seems his family has done a great deal for the church over the years,” he said slowly. “He brought a copy of the letter so that I would know its contents, and act accordingly.”
Lucetta quickly read what her former employer had written. In addition to accusing her of thievery, he claimed she was an unrepentant atheist who had poisoned his wife and children with her profane notions. So damaging was her influence, in fact, that Carlton claimed his family had been torn apart by it. While her crimes might be forgiven by a loving brother, her wanton disregard for the sanctity of faith rendered her unfit to occupy the parsonage at Renwick. He implored the bishop to see Lucetta removed from the household or, if the vicar was unwilling to turn her out, to ban Jeffrey from the exercise of ministry.
“Carlton is quite convincing,” she said, handing the letter back to him. “Of course, after I refused to return his property, he swore to ruin me.”
“He is keeping his word, then, my dear.” Jeffrey sat back and rubbed his eyes before he met her gaze. His eyelashes looked wet now. “I must ask you some questions now.” His expression changed to the one he put on in front of the parish. “Are you in fact an atheist?”
Lucetta went still as what Carlton meant to do finally sank in. The letter posed a direct, serious threat to her brother’s position. The church expected their vicars expected to uphold the highest standards of Christian behavior, most especially at home. By having Lucetta at the parsonage, Jeffrey would be harboring an enemy of his own faith.
Belatedly she realized she hadn’t answered him. “I no longer believe in God, so yes, I am.”
He leaned forward, his eyes filling with sorrow. “Did you cause this rift between Lord Carlton and his family, as he claims in the letter?”
“Not by spreading atheism, but yes, I did cause his lordship to become separated from his wife and children.” She rose to her feet. “As I told you before, I also stole from him. It is all true.”
If she fought Carlton on this, his lordship would not rest until her brother lost his position. Jeffrey might eke out a small living in some other, limited capacity for the church, but he and Deidre would suffer greatly reduced circumstances. He would also be forbidden from holding services or ministering to a parish. Lucetta knew that her brother’s faith was more than a job, it had always been his one, true calling.
By ruining Jeffrey, Carlton would exact a very fine revenge on her indeed. That made her decision simple.
“You need not worry about me, Brother.” She smiled at him. “I will go at once.”
“I would do anything for you, Lucy, you know that. But I must think of my wife, and our parish. I am first a man of God.” He took from his desk drawer a small purse, which he held out to her. “This is all the money I can spare. I’m afraid it will not keep you more than a month. If you need more, perhaps–”
“I don’t need it, thank you,” Lucetta said before she left for her room.
Packing her few belongings took little time, and when she emerged she found her sister-in-law waiting in the hall.
“That Indian gentleman is still waiting outside for you,” Deidre told her. “He refused to leave until he knew you were well, and perhaps he may… Ah, here.” She handed her a satchel. “I know you do not care for my cooking, but here are some provisions. Cucumber sandwiches and apples and a bit of ham. I did not put any fruit in the scones, and the flask of tea is only once-brewed.”
Lucetta’s eyes stung. “I am sorry I have been such an ungrateful guest.”
“You spoke only the truth.” Her sister-in-law hesitated before she said, “But that Lord Carlton, he is a lying snake. May he get what he richly deserves for his wickedness.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth, as if shocked by her own words. “Forgive my outburst, Miss Branwen.”
“My name is Lucetta,” She reached out and hugged the astonished woman, kissing her on the brow. “Thank you, Deidre.”
Chapter 7
With tightly-leashed patience Thorne paced along the edge of the landing as the workmen carefully made their way out of the tower arch. One of them held tucked under his arm a broken, blackened board, which he presented as soon as they reached solid footing.
“Here’s where that wood come from, Colonel,” the carpenter said, showing him the decayed wood. “A strut under the third-floor landing gave way. What fell to the bottom broke off from this. There’s naught holding it up now.”
Thorne took hold of the piece, which felt disagreeably spongy and smelled of mildew. “What caused the support to snap?”
The men looked at each other before the carpenter said, “Likely the rot, sir. The top half of the stairs have begun to sag. Best to keep the servants out of here until we can clear out the punked wood and rebuild the steps.”
He shook his head. “I first need the flooring in the servants’ quarters replaced before the snow arrives. The tower will have to wait.”
So, it had been an accident, Thorne thought as he left the workers to pack up their tools for the day. He went to the kitchen to inform his men, who had gathered there for their evening meal, that they would have to use the center staircase until repairs could be made. It was then that he noticed his steward’s chair at the end of the table stood empty.
“Harshad has not returned from his rounds?” Thorne asked.
The cook started to reply, but just then the sound of a carriage came from the drive. “He has now, Master.”
Outside Thorne felt surprised to see his steward helping Miss Branwen out of the carriage. “Lucetta. Is something the matter? How is Meredith?”
“She was still a little unnerved when we arrived at Starling House, but I think after a good night’s rest she will recover,” Lucetta said.
“I am to tell you that she hopes to see you tomorrow night at Lady Hardiwick’s assembly,” his steward told him.
As Thorne watched, Harshad took from the carriage one case, and then another, and a satchel after that. Lucetta removed a large hat box from the seat and added it to the pile.
Thorne regarded the baggage and then the lady. “I thought you were for home.”
“I no longer have one, sir.” She folded her hands in front of her, her expression strained now as she faced him. “My brother cannot offer me his hospitality and remain the Vicar of Renwick, so I have been forced to leave his house. I wonder if I might impose on your generosity again for a room tonight. I should like to speak with you, and I have no money for accommodations elsewhere.”
“You are always welcome to stay.” Thorne asked Harshad to see to the bags she had brought, and escorted her to his study, where he poured them both a brandy.
“Thank you.” Rather than make the usual feminine fuss over spirits she took a sip and settled back in her chair.
She appeared as exhausted as he felt, Thorne thought. “I hope your cousin has not resolved to quit Dredthorne for good.”
“I insisted she stay at home for a day to rest, but I am certain she will return the next.” She tucked her fist under her chin as she gazed at the fireplace for a moment. “I suppose I should explain my own situation to you.”
“Your brother tossed you out, you are without funds, and you need a bed for the night.” He sat down across from her and toasted her with his own drink. “I am not interested in intrigues, so that is all I need know.”
“I appreciate your gentlemanly lack of curiosity, especially with my life yet again in shambles.” Her gaze shifted to his sleeve, which remained pelted with wood splinters. “You desperately need a valet.”
“Soldiers dress themselves,” he informed her drily. “You are stalling. Whatever you wish to say, madam, out with it.”
She plucked at a fold of her skirt. “My brother offered me money before I left, but I refused. He cannot afford to part with it, and I prefer to earn my way. Yet my options have become quite limited.”
That was the genteel way of saying she was flat broke and had no prospects of employment, which Th
orne had already guessed.
“I can certainly pay you for serving as Meredith’s chaperone and helping with the books.” He knew of similar arrangements among good families to provide a modest income for poor relations. “Would it not be better for you to attempt to reconcile with the vicar? Or perhaps you could stay with the Starlings.”
“The most practical solution to my dilemma is to find work.” Lucetta cradled her brandy between her palms. “Please understand that I have nothing but admiration for Mr. Naveya. In England, however, a man of his talents does not manage the domestics. When spring comes, your steward will be needed to attend to your financials, the property, any tenants you may wish to lease to, livestock, crops, and so forth.”
“He will have no time to see to the house, then.” The agent had mentioned something about such arrangements, but Thorne had been determined to do things in his own fashion. “I had not thought of it.”
“It is not a criticism. A large estate like this presents many challenges for its master, and you are only just arrived. This is the first time you have had to deal with a house of this size?” When he nodded she tilted her head. “If I may ask, why have you been so determined to keep your staff wholly male?”
“I am a soldier, used to the company of men,” Thorne told her, unwilling to say more than that.
“This is Renwick, not the Army, sir.” She squared her shoulders. “For management of the hall and your staff, and to see to what you need to live comfortably here, you require a proper housekeeper. I propose you hire me to be yours.”
Thorne had not guessed that to be her intention. “I thought you were a governess.”
“My former employer has assured that I will never work as one again,” she said frankly. “That comes with a great deal of very unpleasant intrigue, horror, and other matters I do not wish to discuss in detail.”
He nodded. “I will not press you.”
“His wishes do not remove my need of employment, and a place to live. I frequently looked after my father’s household when my mother grew ill, and have worked in many large houses, so I am quite familiar with the duties. By now you are well-acquainted with my character and diligence, but if you have any questions, I am happy to answer them.” She waited for him to respond, and then said, “Very well. I will accept the position for room, board, and the standard wage of twenty guineas per month, and an answer to one question.”
“I have no quarrel with the amount.” After watching her manage the books from the hidden library, he had no doubt she would keep the household running smoothly. All of the men liked her, and Harshad had already befriended her. “What is your question?”
She regarded him steadily. “Did you make advances on Meredith in the tower?”
Thorne considered denying it, but saw the knowing gleam in Lucetta’s eye. “Yes. I kissed her, and there was some other, ah, contact. It did not go too far.”
“As housekeeper I can continue to serve as Meredith’s chaperone—a role at which I warn you, I will be more diligent—and assist her with the catalog work.” Lucetta made a dismissive gesture. “My own tattered reputation cannot be made worse, I assure you. Carlton has seen to that. Since I have already spent the night, and we have not fallen deliriously in love, you should be safe from your family curse.”
“I beg your pardon.” Fascinated now, he set aside his snifter. “My family what?”
Lucetta pressed her hand to her brow before she regarded him. “Forgive me, but I thought you knew of the legend about the Thornes. It is said that the men of your family are destined to fall in love with a lady who spends the night beneath this roof.”
“How novel.” He chuckled. “That does not seem to me a very great curse. Rather more a convenient one.”
“The curse has to do with the lady, not the master,” she said. “Once she is wed to a Thorne, the wife is doomed. Every mistress of Dredthorne is said to have gone mad, disappeared, or died within a year.” She held up her hand. “I doubt its veracity, but the Thorne curse is one of the village’s more enduring tales.”
“It is not true.” Thorne sobered as he thought of his parents. “My mother never stepped foot in this house. She met my father in London, and followed him during his naval career, which took them all over England and the Continent. They endured twenty-four years in an unhappy marriage, but they died together in an accident. I believe my father’s parents also resided elsewhere, and enjoyed long, uncursed lives.”
“Like most legends, this one was likely invented by a group of jealous spinsters and bored wives seething over their scandal broth.” At his puzzled look Lucetta added, “Over their tea.” She glanced up as the old clock chimed the half-hour, and then rose to her feet. “I must go to my room and unpack before dinner is served. Should I take the guest chamber again, or the housekeeper’s room?”
“You may use the guest room.” As her face fell Thorne gestured toward the ceiling. “Once the workmen have finished on the third floor, you will have the housekeeper’s chamber. It comes with a sitting room, I believe.”
“Thank you, sir.” Lucetta bobbed in a brief, neat curtsey.
“One more thing, Miss Branwen,” he said, using the more formal address. “What happened in the tower will not be repeated.”
She nodded. “I will make sure of that, Colonel.”
On the afternoon before the assembly Lady Starling surprised Meredith with the gift of a new gown.
“I had planned to save it for Christmas,” her mother said as she placed the jade-colored cloud of silk on her bed, “but I want you to look your very best tonight, my dear. You do not need wear that sling with it, do you? It will ruin the look, and remind everyone of your misfortunes.”
“No, Mama, my arm is quite healed now.” Meredith hardly knew what to say. “How in Heaven’s name can we afford such a dress?”
“Do not concern yourself with matters of money,” Lady Starling snapped. When she saw Meredith’s expression she made an impatient gesture. “It is of no consequence. Now, I will send Annie to help with your hair after dinner.” She opened the armoire. “Do you have a decent pair of slippers that will match?”
By the time her father sent for the carriage Meredith felt completely bewildered by her mother’s attentions. Her hair, now piled in a clever arrangement of artful braids and curls set with Lady Starling’s favorite pearl pins, resembled a gleaming crown. The gown, while a little loose around the waist, matched her eyes perfectly. Her cheeks had been pinched until they glowed, and the cherry juice she had been coaxed to sip had tinted her lips a deeper pink. Her mother had even lent her a single strand of small, creamy pearls to wear around her neck, and her favorite pair of white slippers.
Lord Starling drove them to Lady Hardiwick’s himself, where they were met by Percival and Lavinia, who seemed to be waiting for them.
“By Jove, Meredith, you outshine the stars tonight,” her cousin said as he helped her down from the carriage. “Careful now. Does she not look beautiful, Mama?”
“Very pretty,” her aunt muttered, glaring oddly at Lady Starling. “Shall we go in, or are we to loiter here until my niece visits some new disaster on us all?”
Being reminded of her bad luck made Meredith want to climb back into the carriage, but by then Percival had tucked her arm through his, and was leading her into the Hardiwick’s enormous country house.
Lamps and candles abounded on the walls, chandeliers and foyer tables, making Meredith especially nervous as she walked down the receiving line. If she caught her new dress on fire again her mother would never forgive her, and likely forbid her from ever leaving the house again.
“Chin up, Cousin,” Percival said, patting her forearm. “This will be an evening to remember, I swear it.”
As long as I avoid tipping the punch bowl into someone’s lap, Meredith thought as she greeted their hostess.
Prudence, resplendent in a tight pink satin gown that had been cut so low the top of her breasts bulged almost to her chin, giggled at Perci
val’s bow. She batted her eyelashes as he straightened and said, “You look so handsome in your red coat, Captain Starling.”
He grinned broadly. “I am but a mere lieutenant, Miss Prudence.”
“I will not tell anyone if you will not,” she whispered loudly, leaning in close enough to brush the front of his jacket with her bodice. Her pale eyes shifted to Meredith. “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight, Miss Fortunate.” She laughed at her own joke.
“I am grateful to be included, as always,” Meredith said while imagining Prudence on all fours in her expensive dress in a pen of pigs. She would likely giggle at them, too.
“Mama told me she had given that awful green gown to your poor mother,” Prudence told her. “She had it made for tonight’s ball, but I decided that dreadful color didn’t suit me.” She beamed at Percival. “Pink is my favorite color.”
“It is now mine as well,” he gallantly assured her.
So that explained how Lady Starling had obtained the gown, as charity from Prudence’s mother. Unable to bear another moment of her simpering superiority, Meredith drew her arm from Percival’s. “Please, excuse me. I must look for someone.”
Dimly she heard her cousin protest, but paid no mind to it. Doubtless her mother had instructed Percival to stay glued to her side for the whole of the evening so he might rescue her from herself. Yet after what had happened in the tower she desperately wished to see Alistair Thorne. She felt sure he blamed himself for the accident, and might decide to stop her from returning to Dredthorne.
If he did, her life would quickly become unbearable.
Meredith worked her way around the edge of the ball room, watching the dancing couples in hopes of spotting the colonel. When she could not find him among the crowd, she wandered over to the refreshments table.
“Allow me,” a familiar voice said from behind her as a strong hand took the punch bowl ladle from her fingers.