Louisa did her best to comfort the shivering girl on the ride home. But if Louisa had hoped that Evie would warm to her immediately, she was sadly mistaken. Evie regarded her with large suspicious eyes. Eyes that remained slightly unfocused and overly bright.
Damn that woman and damn Hildon Hall, Louisa thought time and time again. Even if Evie were ill and prone to misbehavior, Louisa couldn’t imagine what the girl could have done to result in being locked in a dark, airless chamber, her frail body so drugged that she could barely hold herself upright.
Worse yet, it was obvious that the girl had not bathed in some time. Her hair was tangled and matted, her fingernails rimmed with grime. Cuts and scratches peppered her skin as if she’d run through a bramble bush.
How was Louisa supposed to tell this fragile creature that Charles had died and that Evie had been left in the care of a stranger?
“Evie?” she murmured.
At the sound of her name, the girl reared away and pressed herself into the corner of the carriage.
“Shh, shh.” Louisa bit her lip.
Now wasn’t the time to tell the girl anything. Although she damned herself for being a coward, Louisa decided that she would wait until Evie had been fed and bathed. Perhaps then the laudanum would have worn off enough for the girl to realize that Louisa wasn’t a threat.
Tucking her shawl more securely around the girl’s shoulders, Louisa gradually drew Evie into her arms again. As soon as possible, Louisa would summon the girl’s doctor. Before Louisa did anything, she needed the advice of a physician. Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell Evie of her father’s death. In her current state, Louisa doubted that the girl would consciously miss Charles.
The afternoon sun was hot overhead when the front gates to the Winslow estates came into view.
“We’re almost home, Evie.”
The girl trembled in Louisa’s arms, but the time and distance had eased her fears enough that she allowed Louisa to hold her.
“Are you hungry?”
The question was asinine, given the gauntness of the girl’s frame, but the constant patter seemed to calm Evie.
“We’ll make you some hot soup and tea—or perhaps you’d like a cup of Beatrice’s hot cocoa.”
Evie stiffened in Louisa’s arms as the shadow of the huge iron gate passed over them and they made their way through the darker shadows caused by the trees.
“I’m sure your aunt is eager to see you. It’s probably been years….”
A whimper of distress bled from Evie’s lips. Then, as they topped the rise and the castle could be seen in the valley below, she grew hysterical, crying and screaming. She pushed free of Louisa, kicking and flailing her arms, trying desperately to jump from the carriage.
“Whoa!”
John quickly calmed the gelding and turned to catch the girl around the waist before she could lunge out of the conveyance.
“What startled her?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the angry squeals.
“I don’t know. She became restless as soon as we turned down the drive, but the moment she saw the castle, she lost control.”
Still struggling with the child, John looked quickly at the castle, then down at Evie.
“Do you think she’s afraid of the place? It looks a little like Hildon Hall.”
Louisa peered at the castle, then down at Evie, who was frantic.
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“Take her for a minute.”
Louisa drew Evie down upon the seat. Evie buried her face in Louisa’s shoulder, sobbing piteously.
With a deft twist of the reins, John urged the horse down an alternative track to the left. The moment the trees shielded them from the view of the house, Evie’s panic subsided and her sobbing took a tone of exhaustion rather than fear.
“I think you’re right, John.” Louisa’s blood boiled. “What did they do to her at that place?”
“I sure as hell intend to find out,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
His concern tugged at Louisa’s heart.
After whispering softly to the girl, Louisa said, “We can’t take her home. Not like this.”
John gazed around them as if the answer might suddenly show itself. “What do you want to do?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “In my inheritance, I was given the garden house. It’s supposed to be nearby. From what I gathered from Mr. Pritchard’s explanation, it was the overseer’s home during the construction of the castle. I believe he said it was on the southeastern corner of the estate. Do you think you could find it?”
Slapping the reins on the horse’s rump, John said, “We may as well try. The way she’s acting, I’d rather not go to the castle to ask for directions.”
It proved an easy task to find the garden house. The track they followed led to the stables, and from there, to another rutted road that led to the cottage.
From first glance, Louisa had fallen in love with the structure. Compared to the castle, it was a modest home. Built on a single level, it had a wraparound porch and a steeply pitched roof. Large windows let in the sunshine and lacy fretwork decorated the eaves.
John was the first to investigate. He found the rear door unlocked. After searching the house, he came out through the front.
“It’s dusty and in need of a cleaning, but cloths have been thrown over most of the furniture to keep out the grime. Overall, I’d say this place is in better condition than the main house.”
He scooped Evie into his arms.
Weakly, she protested, pressing her hands against his chest, but her actions were uncoordinated.
“I’ll get the two of you set up in one of the bedrooms. Then I’ll take the buggy back to the stable and let the rest of the household know what has happened.”
He led them into a narrow entryway, and from there to a door at the end of the hall. Inside were two iron bedsteads and a tall shape shrouded in a dust cloth. Judging by its height, Louisa guessed it to be a highboy.
“What would you like me to fetch you from the house?” John asked Louisa as he set Evie on the bare mattress.
The girl sighed, turned her face to the wall and promptly fell asleep.
“We’ll need food to carry us over until tomorrow, linens and water. Ask Chloe to bring clothes for the next few days and toiletries—especially soap.” Louisa’s voice gentled as she stared down at the sleeping girl. “We’ll need lots and lots of soap.”
In a rush, she absorbed the enormity of what had happened. Her stomach tightened, but she willed the sensation away. She’d been in the right today, and she wouldn’t regret a single thing she’d done.
“She’ll be happier here with you,” John said softly, his hand touching her shoulder.
As much as she willed herself not to respond, Louisa melted into that caress ever so slightly.
“I pray you’re right.”
There was a beat of silence, one she measured by the infinitesimal stroking of his thumb.
“Are you having second thoughts?”
“About Evie?”
“About your marriage.”
She quickly searched his features, wondering what would have inspired him to ask such a question.
Unless he’d guessed somehow that she’d had a choice in the matter.
No. Not possible. Her identity was still a secret.
“Why would I regret anything about my life to date?”
His eyes seemed to plumb her very soul and she forced herself to hold his gaze without flinching.
“Why, indeed?”
To her infinite relief, he dropped his hand. His boots thumped against the wooden floor, marking his departure, so that in time she heard the bang of the front screen and the hollow sound of a horse’s hooves retreating up the drive.
Feeling suddenly faint, Louisa stripped off her bonnet and gloves, tossing them onto the other bed. Then she unbuttoned her jacket and slid it from her shoulders. More than anything, she longed to strip to h
er underthings and stretch out on the mattress to take her own nap, but such an indulgence was out of the question.
As soon as Chloe arrived with a change of clothing, she would dress in something more suitable for cleaning. Since the funeral was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, time was of the essence. She needed to ensure that the cottage was habitable.
Leaving the door ajar should Evie need her, Louisa began to explore. Besides the bedroom, she soon discovered two more sleeping areas, a kitchen, parlor, dining area and pantry as well as a screened porch to the rear. A search of the cupboards revealed a few canned goods, linens and cleaning supplies.
Rolling her sleeves up, Louisa began stripping dust sheets from the furniture. Bit by bit, she revealed strong, high-quality pieces—perhaps not the newest or the prettiest to be found, but serviceable nonetheless.
With each discovery, a deeper pleasure grew in her breast. All of this was hers—hers! To a woman who for most of her life had owned little more than what would fit into a trunk or a carpetbag, she felt like a queen.
If the truth were known, she found the cottage to be much more to her liking than the castle. As grand as the other structure might be, there was something…ominous about it. Perhaps the walls held secrets from its past inhabitants and the house did not appreciate being taken so far away from where it had originally stood.
Louisa shook her head brusquely. “Preposterous,” she murmured to herself, turning her attention back to her labors.
What secrets could possibly be contained within the Winslow mansion?
Chapter Fifteen
Within an hour, a bevy of servants had arrived at the garden house, and Louisa put them to work dusting, cleaning and scrubbing floors, while she and Chloe changed linens. In the kitchen, Beatrice filled the larder, then made a pot of thick soup that she put on the back burner to simmer.
By nightfall, the tired women had set up housekeeping. After a meal of bread and cheese, they retired to their rooms, with John relegated to the screened porch to sleep.
It was the last real moment of peace that Louisa would have for several days. The following morning, Charles’s coffin was again displayed for early visitors. Then there was the procession to the church, a lengthy funeral and the graveside service.
Through it all, Louisa tried her best to play the grieving widow. The charade wasn’t entirely impossible. With all of the heartfelt words being offered and the flowery condolences, she grew teary thinking that she would never have the opportunity to meet such a paragon of virtue.
It was only when the mourners followed her back to the rectory for a late meal—then stayed and stayed until darkness had begun to fall—that her emotions wavered. As the hours wore on and the clock wound past the appropriate hour for Evie to be in bed, impatience bubbled within Louisa and she felt she might scream soon if everyone didn’t go home. It wouldn’t seem polite if she were to leave early.
Glancing up, she caught John looking at her, a hidden smile teasing his lips. That fact only seemed to increase her irritation.
Why did this man always seem to find humor in her situation? It was as if he knew she didn’t belong here. She was a crow among peacocks. Although she might have donned the plumage necessary to hide herself among society’s elite, she still felt like an interloper.
Did he somehow sense that?
Her temples throbbed as she finally saw the last guest out the front doors and leaned against the heavy panels.
“I have the carriage waiting for you.”
She started at the deep voice that came from a spot just behind her shoulder.
“Evie?”
“Beatrice has already collected her.”
Louisa didn’t flinch as he settled her wrap over her shoulders.
“It’s all over, Louisa. Let’s take you home.”
She shuddered ever so softly, some of the tension easing from her body. For the past hour, she’d held herself so tightly that she feared she would shatter.
His hand was warm against her waist as he reached around her to open the door. Louisa took the pastor’s hand as he offered his last encouraging words, but she caught only a small portion of what was being said. She was conscious only of the man who stood behind her and the strength that he represented.
John quickly ushered her to the carriage and helped her to climb inside. Beatrice sat on the opposite bench, her arm around her niece.
“Is she asleep?”
Beatrice nodded. “The day has worn her out, poor thing.”
Louisa doubted that Evie had been aware of much of anything that day. She’d awakened late and docilely taken the tonic that Beatrice had given her. The rest of the afternoon she’d watched the proceedings with glassy eyes. Only at the graveside had she cried, huge, silent tears that were more heartbreaking than the piteous sobbing Beatrice had displayed.
Sighing, Louisa rubbed her temples. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought her.”
Beatrice shook her head. “It wouldn’t have looked right.”
Louisa didn’t really care if Evie’s absence would have caused tongues to wag or not. Her primary concern had been for the girl. When Louisa’s mother had died, she had been told she was too young to attend the services and she’d been left at home. Without the finality of a funeral, the entire affair had seemed…incomplete to her. For years Louisa had believed that if she was good enough, clever enough, faithful enough, her mother might return. After all, she had no proof that her mother had truly been placed in the ground. In her childish brain she had envisioned all sorts of possibilities—that she’d merely been asleep, or that a prince would kiss her and bring her back to life….
Louisa wouldn’t do such a thing to another child. Despite her…diminished faculties, Evie deserved the chance to mourn her father properly.
“Boyd stated that he would be sleeping at his club tonight,” Beatrice murmured.
At that moment, Louisa didn’t care what Boyd did. By moving to the garden house, she’d avoided his icy glares—something she hadn’t been able to do at the church.
“You really needn’t stay with Evie and me, Beatrice. I know that you’re probably accustomed to living in the castle.”
Beatrice bit her lip in indecision, then shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of remaining there while you are with Evie. You’re my family.”
Louisa hesitated before finally asking, “Beatrice, why didn’t your brother leave Evie to your care?”
She tried to read the woman’s expression, but even with the outside lanterns, the shadows in the carriage were too deep.
“My brother and I…didn’t get along well,” Beatrice said stiffly.
“But why not?”
There was a long silence, and a small sliver of moonlight limned Beatrice’s profile as she stared out the window.
“Did you know that I am older than Charles?”
“No.”
“Yes. By a year.” Her voice hardened ever so slightly. “But being a girl as I am, my father didn’t think it…appropriate for me to be involved in the family business.”
“Did you want to be?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” Her head tilted in a proud angle. “I’ve always been very good with numbers. In fact, I’d dare say that I was much more clever than Charles.”
Louisa heard the rustle of silk as her sister-in-law shrugged.
“I had the bad fortune to be a woman.” Her voice took on an edge. “I thought that once Father died Charles might allow me to participate, but he didn’t. If anything, he was even more backward thinking than Papa. We had quite a row about the subject, I can tell you.” She sniffed in disgust. “The next morning, I discovered just how precarious my position could be. My father had left me nothing, you see. His estate was left to Charles’s discretion, and since I’d become a source of irritation to my brother, he decided that I should go to the country to live with a pair of maiden aunts.” Beatrice’s voice throbbed with remembered anger and regret. “Thus began my long career as the family nurse.
”
Louisa was so shocked by her late husband’s callousness that she didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sure that your efforts weren’t wasted,” she said at last.
Beatrice took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, it was with an affected lightness. Nevertheless, Louisa could feel a measure of the woman’s hurt.
“Yes, I know fully well that I brought them a sense of peace. Many of my elderly relations mentioned me in their wills, allowing me a small amount of independence. There was just never enough to remove myself from my brother’s control once and for all.”
Bitterness filled the air around them, causing Louisa’s mood to blacken even more. “What about Boyd? Was your father as restrictive with him?”
A short laugh cut through the chilly evening. “Boyd has been little more than my brother’s lackey for years. He’s added as much to the family fortune as Charles, yet he’s been given little more than a yearly salary. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been surprised if there’d been foul play involved in Charles’s death. Boyd has often wished that he had the nerve to do something.”
“Beatrice!” Louisa was truly shocked. As badly as Boyd had treated Louisa herself, she wouldn’t have thought Beatrice could think such a thing about her own brother.
“You needn’t sound so surprised. I’m fully aware that Boyd was here in Boston when Charles’s death occurred. I’m merely trying to convey to you the depth of animosity my brothers had for one another. They worked together, but only grudgingly. It’s simply too bad that Charles didn’t have enough heart to recognize all that Boyd has done for the company, and reward him accordingly.”
Louisa bit her lip, realizing that she had benefited from Charles’s largesse, while his own family had been ignored. When she caught sight of the familiar iron gates that led to the Winslow property, relief surged through her.
As much as she might wish to set things to rights with Charles’s family, tonight she didn’t have the strength or the energy to even think clearly. Tomorrow she would speak to Mr. Pritchard. Surely there was a way to sort out the injustices that had occurred.
Beatrice sighed. “Louisa, if it isn’t a bother, I do believe that I’ll change my mind about sleeping at the garden house. I’ve grown a bit set in my ways, and with Boyd gone, the silence of the castle might do me good.”
Lisa Bingham Page 16