by Diana Lloyd
Maybe Elvy, having lived wild, could no longer be comfortable surrounded by walls. The woman was a puzzle in more ways than one. Her skin was tawny, her eyes and hair a deep brown. Maybe Elvy, like herself, was far from home and without family. Last night, after their experiment with signet seal forgery, Elvy had removed layer after layer of patchwork clothing as she readied for bed. The woman wore every item of clothing she owned, and each piece was fashioned as if the parable of the coat of many colors had been taken up as a challenge.
They’d only just met, but she’d miss her. Maybe one day their paths would cross again in the same strange way. Struck by another thought, Jewel froze where she stood. What if Oliver is gone, too? Unable to chase away the fear of abandonment, she wrapped herself in the counterpane and ran out of the room. She had to see for herself that his carriage was still here.
“Oy, there, miss. Where you off to in such a hurry? The privy is at the far end of the garden but that’s no way to be running about.” Elvy, her hands filled with a breakfast tray, stepped out of the way and regarded Jewel’s attire with a raised eyebrow.
“Elvy, you’re still here.” Jewel smiled, relief flooding the tenseness from her limbs.
“That I am. Took a tray out to his lordship just now and thought I’d bring you some breakfast, too.”
“So, Oliver, I mean, Lord Winchcombe, he’s still here?” Raising her hand to her mouth, Jewel suppressed a nervous giggle.
“Of course he is. Where else would he be?”
“I don’t know. I’m just so happy to see you.” Shaking her head at her own foolishness, Jewel walked back to the bedroom.
“I wouldn’t leave you without saying so first. Besides, miss, I ain’t really got nowhere else to go.” Elvy sat the tray down, put her hands on her hips and turned to Jewel. “Ain’t everybody just going to up and abandon you, miss. Some people stick around like evergreen trees.”
“I haven’t known too many evergreens, I guess.”
Elvy raised her eyebrow at that but didn’t say any more.
Fed, washed, and dressed, it was all Jewel could do to keep from running to the carriage house to see Oliver. Rushing to be by a man’s side reflected how much of a fallen woman she’d become. She didn’t miss Eldridge, she missed the excitement. The intoxicating feeling of belonging—of being un-alone—that surged through her at the touch of someone’s bare, warm skin pressed against her own. Oliver’s kisses awoke the beast within her that craved such intimate things. He must remain a gentleman, because she was no lady.
Slowing her steps, Jewel stopped and smoothed down her hair. Elvy had made good use of the homeowner’s curling tongs and her normally unremarkable brown hair hung in fashionable ringlets around her head. Unsure of the protocol, she knocked at the large door before swinging it open.
Oliver, asleep, was sitting at a small table, head down, his cheek resting against the worn wood, hair unbound and wild, and fingertips stained dark with ink. A neat stack of folded letters lay next to his head, a few more were scattered across the bed. His breakfast tray, untouched, had been placed on a stool next to him. Poor fellow must have been writing all night.
“Ahem.” Jewel cleared her throat. “Good morning.” Oliver’s head jerked up and he scrubbed his hand over his face, smearing ink across his brow.
“Morning.” He blinked his eyes a few times as if not believing them. “Cousin.”
“Were you working all night?” Jewel pointed to the stack of letters as he rooted around the breakfast tray.
“Correspondence,” he explained. “I had a lot to say.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Cuthbert will see that they get to the post for you.”
“Who?” In between bites of his meal, Oliver shoved the letters into his leather traveling pouch.
“Mrs. Cuthbert, the lady of the house.”
“We didn’t exactly meet.” Draining the mug of cold tea in one long, inelegant swallow, Oliver gave himself a shake and pulled on his jacket. “These letters are too important. I’ll bring them back to the Abbey and trust my own people with their delivery. With good weather and clear roads, we should arrive before nightfall.”
“Of course.” Now might be a good time to tell him she’d opened her letters, but the man looked just barely awake. He’d had a rough night in the stables while she’d enjoyed a comfortable bed and good wine. No point in adding to his burdens. The letters hadn’t been so informative anyway. Her news could wait.
It was a soft morning, the light rain no more than a damp nuisance to their journey. As eager as she might be to begin this new chapter of her life, worry gathered up like a ball of snakes in her belly as Oliver helped her down from the carriage when they stopped to rest the horses.
Mrs. Cuthbert had kindly provided a loaf of bread, a wedge of hard cheese, and a jug of cider for their trip, and Elvy, settling into her role as servant, spread a cloth out on the ground under a sheltering tree while Oliver tended the horses.
“Nibbles, miss?” Elvy cleaned her knife on her skirts and sliced off a crusty heel of bread.
“No.” Jewel shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I’m too nervous to eat a bite.” The soft bed and good wine had helped her sleep last night, but there was no hiding from her troubles in daylight. Dread of her uncle’s agents riding up at any moment to snatch her away gnawed at her mind while worry for her father shrouded everything else. Will I ever feel safe again?
“Won’t do you no good to starve. I’ve learned it’s best to take advantage when good food is available.”
“That’s wise advice. Maybe just some cider and bread.” As she reached for the bread, she couldn’t help wondering what her father was eating without her around to remind him to do so. Her letter would be on its way to him soon. If only letters could fly through the sky with birds. Words would drop into your lap and you’d need only feed the bird a few crumbs to send it on its way with a reply. The silly thought made her smile through her sadness.
“What’s troubling you, miss? His lordship means to take good care of you and so do I. No harm will come to you.” Elvy wiped her hands on her skirt, sliced off a sliver of cheese, and popped it into her mouth.
“I can’t help thinking of my father. I wonder if he is home safe or how he’ll weather the war. Surely he’s too old to take up arms, but where will he go? Without me there to make sure he has food and clean stockings, what is he to do?”
“He got on before you was born and he’ll get on now. I expect it is quite the load off his mind that you are safe away from any bloodshed. Did his lordship say something worrisome to you this morning? What has brought this on?”
“It wasn’t anything he said. It’s the way he’s acting.” Looking around to ensure he’d not overhear her, Jewel continued. “You’ve seen him, he looks a wreck. I doubt he slept an hour last night. He wrote at least a dozen letters and he said they were important. The closer we get to his home the quieter he becomes.” Unable to settle her mind, Jewel paced back and forth as she spoke.
“Mayhaps he’s just tired.” Elvy jumped up and began pacing along beside her.
“That’s probably it. It’s just…well, it reminds me now of how my father acted before I left for London. Distracted. Preoccupied and worried. I should have paid more attention to my father then, and maybe I’m missing something important about Lord Winchcombe now. His manner is much changed from yesterday.” Jewel sighed and blew out a breath of frustration. Gone was the easy banter, the gentle teasing. Their kisses a distant memory. “I was wrong to leave Boston. If I’m wrong about trusting Lord Winchcombe I will never see my father again.”
“You give the word, miss, and you can walk with me out into the woods. It’s no grand life, but it’s a life. We’ll look out for each other, eh?”
“Thank you.” Jewel smiled to repay the older woman’s kindness. “It feels better to have a plan. I’ll get a letter to my fath
er as soon as I can. Until then you and I will look out for each other.” Yesterday, all she could think of was kissing Oliver. Today he was as much a puzzle as Elvy’s skirt.
“To be honest, miss, I’ve survived many a night by being able to tell a good soul from a bad one. In my opinion, Lord Winchcombe is one of the good ones.” She looked ready to say more when a shouted curse echoed across the clearing.
“Damn and blast!” Oliver stomped into the clearing, muddied and sputtering. “God save me from willful animals and puddles.”
Oh dear.
“Tidy yourself up with this.” Jewel pulled the kerchief from her head and held it out to him. “Trouble with the horses?”
“No, not at all. Why would you ask?” He accepted the offered cloth with an exaggerated bow and wiped the splatter from his face, leaving the ink smear behind. “My four-legged friends decided I should be wearing as much mud as they are forced to bear.”
“Do they need more rest?” Jewel pursed her lips to keep from smiling at such a pathetically comical sight. Ink-stained and hat missing, hair sticking out like a scarecrow, poor Oliver must have taken a tumble. From toe to knees and most of his right sleeve were coated in a wet, brown-gray film of fresh mud. She turned away. Even in these unusual circumstances, he wasn’t the sort of man who would take kindly to being laughed at.
“They need occupation. Let us be on our way.”
“Have a bite to eat first, milord.” Elvy held out the bundle of cloth-wrapped bread and cheese. “Ain’t much I can do about your clothes out here in this weather, but I will clean and mend them up as soon as we can stop for the night.”
“We should make haste to Winchcombe Abbey. Once there, my valet will see to my clothes. While I appreciate your concern, you were hired to see to the lady’s needs, not mine.” Turning his back to them, he walked to where he’d tethered the carriage and led the horses out of the worst of the mud.
“I can drive a carriage well enough.” Jewel ran to the curricle and climbed up to the seat, motioning for them to follow. “Let me take up the reins for a time while you rest and eat.”
“Listen here.” Oliver shook his head. “This is my carriage and my pig-headed horses. I’ll be manning the reins.”
“Cousin, dear, you are tired, dirty, and in need of bread and cider to settle your mind and your stomach. You’ve done so much for me. The least I can do to repay you is take a turn at the ribbons. I’ll hand them back as soon as we’re on the road that leads to your estate.” Jewel scooted over on the seat, making room for her companions. “Allow me to do this one thing. Please.”
When he didn’t move, Jewel sensed a war going on within him. In addition to his admitted lack of social skills, he was as stubborn as any man she’d ever met. He’d soon learn the shallow depths of her patience. Their battle of wills was blessedly brief, and he climbed up to the seat with a beastly frown as they continued their journey.
Damp through her skirts down to the bone, Jewel managed a smile as Oliver finally proclaimed their arrival on Winchcombe land and she relinquished the reins. He’d not said much about his family estate, so she had no idea what to expect. Aunt and Uncle’s London home had at first seemed a grand place but soon became a stark reminder that not all was as it seemed. While the facade and furnishings were grand, there was no joy to be found inside among the splendor of the Dunwoody home.
“You need to stop, miss? Yer looking a little green.” Elvy placed a hand on her arm.
“I’m fine,” she lied. What were the odds that she’d traded one house of horrors for another? Closing her eyes, Jewel took a deep breath and shook the thought from her head. No man who cared so much for his brother’s happiness could be cruel at heart. No man who kissed so tenderly could be devoid of feeling. If it all went ass over teakettle, she’d just walk away with Elvy.
“No point in stopping.” Oliver flicked the reins and turned the horses down a tree-lined path. “We’ve arrived.”
Sitting up straighter in the seat, Jewel scanned the horizon. A dark gray mountain of a house rose up from the ground in sharp angles of steeply pitched rooflines. Behind a light dusting of pearl gray clouds, the sun had begun its evening descent, casting Oliver’s home into damp, eerie shadow. Mullioned windows, all dark, marked two upper floors. The ground floor, only partially lit, teased of a large but plain abode.
“Looks like you’ve got visitors, milord,” Elvy said. At the front of the house, a footman led a pair of horses out of the shadows.
“You don’t suppose it might be my uncle, do you?” Tensing, Jewel gathered her reticule to her chest, her hands clenched into fists. Repercussions were coming, she just hadn’t expected them this soon.
“There’s no reason he would already know that you weren’t where he expected you to be. The coach didn’t turn back to London after you got off, it continued to the next stop. He can’t already know. It must be someone else.” Oliver stopped their progress as the other carriage was moved away from the front entrance.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Heart beating a staccato of fear in her chest, Jewel’s voice betrayed her. She’d rather live in a hollow tree in the woods than return to Hanover Square or be auctioned off in marriage to one of her uncle’s neighbors in the Scottish Highlands.
“You’re my cousin from the colonies. You’re a loyalist.” Oliver whispered the words as he urged his team forward. “Tell them your last name is Soules; it was my mother’s maiden name. You’ve come for a visit of undetermined length with your perfectly suitable companion, Elvy.”
“Got it.” Swallowing down her fear, she pasted a polite smile on her face in case the visitors were watching. Being a fugitive heightened her sense of isolation and the feeling of being stared at, assessed, and judged with every breath.
“What’s your full name, your married name, Elvy?” Oliver leaned over and addressed their companion. “I should know it if I am to explain your presence.”
“Tibble. Elvynia Tibble, widow of Davey Tibble of Woodside.” Elvy, staring wide-eyed at the large house, answered with more composure than Jewel could muster.
“Until things are sorted out.” Oliver pulled the horses to a stop in front of the entrance just as the heavy wooden doors were thrown open. A column of bright flickering candlelight stretched out to the road to greet them. “You two best keep your stories short and simple.”
Jewel only had time to nod before a team of footmen carrying lanterns ran out to greet them.
“Guests?” Oliver inquired as he jumped to the ground.
“Yes, milord. Just now arrived. Gents come all the way from London. I told them you weren’t in residence but they insisted on waiting. Cook is filling them up with tea in the front sitting room. Shall I tell them to hie off?” The footman offered his arm to help Jewel down from the carriage but was elbowed aside by Oliver, who grabbed her by the waist and lifted her down.
“Don’t be frightened, all will be well,” he whispered. Such easy words to say but so difficult for her to believe. All hadn’t been well for months, and she wasn’t naive enough to think her fortunes would change so quickly. Rolling back her shoulders, she managed a smile. What else could she do?
Another servant, an underbutler if she had to guess, met them inside the door and relieved them of damp coats and hats. From there, to her surprise, they were all ushered into the sitting room to meet Oliver’s guests. Judging from appearance only, which was all the information she had at the moment, they were gentlemen of some importance.
Even as the men bowed in greeting to the ladies, their gazes remained fixed on Oliver. This was no impromptu visit by friends, something important was happening here. All she had to do was figure out what. Backing into the shadows along the walls at the edge of the lamplight, Elvy made herself as small and unobtrusive as possible. If only, Jewel thought. How many conversations would she have liked to have heard as a fly upon the wall?
Oliver’s visitors were introduced as Lord Sibley and his secretary, Mr. Merrick. The names meant nothing to Jewel, but Oliver’s reaction was immediate and decidedly unhappy. His scowl, coupled with wayward hair, ink-stained hands and face, and mud-splattered clothing, made him appear a madman or a scarecrow fresh from the fields.
“We’ve had quite the journey today, cousin.” Jewel said. “Would it not be best to receive visitors with the evening meal, after we’ve all had a chance to rest and compose ourselves?” She’d hoped to give Oliver a chance to make himself presentable, but speaking out only drew attention to the fact that she was still in the room. All three men turned to her and clamped their mouths shut.
“Perhaps we should discuss this matter in your office, Winchcombe,” Lord Sibley said after an uncomfortable pause.
“Of course,” Oliver replied, motioning to the door. “This way, gentlemen.” Jewel waited until the door closed behind them to walk over to the dark corner where Elvy still hovered.
“What do you make of that?” Jewel whispered, even though they were the only ones left in the room.
“Them’s nobs from London to be sure,” Elvy said, shaking her head. “Seems an ill wind blew in with them two.”
“I wonder if my uncle sent them. My aunt and uncle couldn’t possibly know yet that I got off that coach. Could they?”
“Only one way to find out.” Elvy nodded to the door.
“It might look a little odd if I’m found standing in the hallway with my ear pressed against his office door, don’t you think? I haven’t any money to bribe a servant into silence here.”
“Don’t need to do neither. House like this has a servant’s hallway somewhere. I’d bet there’s one what leads right to his lordship’s office, so they can serve him meals and such when he’s working.” Elvy ran her hand over the trim on the wood-paneled wall. “There’s likely a servant’s entrance into this room, too.”