by Eliza Emmett
“Come sit with me for tea and cake.” Abigail ushered her inside with a firm if gentle hand on Cora’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Abby, but I am not hungry.”
“Even so, just sit with me.”
Cora acquiesced. She did not want to upset the good soul who had offered her a safe haven in the middle of a storm. In the end, the tea had a healing effect though she could not stomach any cake.
“Abby, I don’t have words to tell you how fortunate I am to have your support. A working woman like me, in this palatial estate—it’s hard to even imagine. It is especially sobering now, when so recently I have been told what my real place in this world is.”
“My dear Cora, you know you can stay here with me for as long as you like. It is a big and sometimes lonely house, and nothing would make me happier than your company for an extended period of time.”
“But…?” Cora’s tea cup slipped and clanked again the saucer.
“But you can’t run from your life. It has a way of catching up with us no matter where we go.”
“I know, Abby. I am so grateful for your friendship and for these days here with you. I had to straighten out my thoughts. I just needed the silence of the countryside to counter the noise in my head.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Go back to life as I’ve always known it. Hard work, the shop, my family. With any luck, the shop will survive, and in time we can all forget what has transpired…. again.”
“And Grant Galavyin?”
“That was a short, naïve dream. I am awake now.”
Abigail reached out and touched Cora’s hand lightly, like she would a child’s. “A hardened heart is a great infelicity. Think carefully before you let yours turn to stone.”
Cora smiled, but she imagined her eyes probably looked as sad as ever.
Abby continued. “Something I might need to say has been causing me quite a dilemma. I think now I will tell you and let you decide what to do with the information.”
A wave of alarm rose in Cora’s stomach. “What is it?”
“There is a person I would like you to meet. You can choose to ignore what might come from the visit. All I ask is a bit of your time.”
“You’re scaring me, Abby.”
“No reason to be scared. If anything, after this meeting you will have more power to decide what to make of your return to London. Do you trust me?”
“Always.”
“So here goes one more thing. I’ve a letter from London. Your Grant is now quite the hero, having found a lost boy named Toby Gedge, who was missing and working for a chimneysweeper. Did you know such a child?”
“Toby was missing? Why haven’t I heard anything about this?”
Abby ignored the second question. “Yes, and now he’s found. In the process four other boys were reunited with their families. All thanks to Grant Galavyin. Are you sure you’re giving him up?”
“He is not mine to lose, Abby. He was never mine.”
****
When Abby and Cora arrived at the little cottage outside the village of Blakerby, they were met by a flock of chickens that pecked in the front yard. The house that awaited them was simple and tidy, with white flowers in planters under the windows. Two trees canopied the front entrance. The door opened to let out a gray-haired woman wearing an apron and a neat bun. She smiled, recognizing Abby, and then her eyes rested on Cora. She nodded slightly.
“What a pleasure to see you, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harvey. This is Miss Cora Larsen, a good friend.”
“Welcome to my house, Miss Larsen. Please come in. I have the kettle on.”
The three women found themselves in a small, orderly room, full of knickknacks carefully arranged on top of hutches and tables. A grandfather clock kept the time and offered its cozy heartbeat rhythm. Three inviting armchairs, as well as a carved wooden bench, rested under the windows. Mrs. Harvey accommodated her guests in her homely living room and went to fetch the tea.
Upon her host’s return, Abby spoke. “Dear Mrs. Harvey, I apologize for coming unannounced.”
“My dear lady, you shouldn’t stand on ceremony. I knew you as a child, and your parents were always so good to my husband and me. They employed him in so many different capacities, and they never abandoned us, especially when his health started failing him. I am forever grateful, and I welcome your visit anytime. Crumpets?” She extended a hand that held a decorated tray with the treats and cakes.
“Thank you, Mrs. Harvey. Cora, Mr. Harvey was a most competent accountant, and surely a most excellent gentleman. We miss him terribly.”
“Yes, we do.” Bessie Harvey looked down. “He was a good man and a dedicated husband.”
Cora reached out and touched the woman’s hands instinctively. The gesture, instead of surprising, appeased Bessie Harvey even further. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Harvey,” Abby brought the conversation back to the immediate reason for the visit. “I remember a story you told me—a story, which I would ask that you relate again to my dear friend.” Abby looked intently at Cora. “The story about your former scullery maid all those many years ago.” She looked at her host and nodded.
“Well, to me she was my only maid, as my household was never one large enough to require multiple servants, but she had been a scullery maid before coming to my employ.”
“Yes, that is the one. Can you tell us more?”
“A very ambitious girl, she was. Very beautiful too, but always scheming and plotting to gain an advantage here and an extra coin there. To her credit, she also read constantly and tried to better herself and her manners in any way she could. Knowing I had been a teacher, she often asked me questions—about the English language, about history and geography. And about etiquette. She was proud and overconfident. The other maids of the village wanted nothing to do with her. They were afraid of her schemes but also of her arrogance.”
“What happened to her?” Abby asked, though Cora suspected her friend already knew the answer.
“She knew secrets. She decided they would be her ticket to London and to a new life. She collected them, like other girls collect earrings or poetry books. Then she came up with her ploys.”
Cora did not know why she was listening to this story or what any of this meant, but she put down her tea so she could better direct her attention to the tale. If Abby wanted her to listen to this, there had to be a good reason.
“One day, as she plotted and traded secrets for favors, she discovered a distant kinship to a local country squire. Of course she had also been cataloguing any and all of his indiscretions, and when the time was right, she forced an acquaintance and subsequently an introduction to polite society. Soon such introduction bore fruit. I eventually received a letter, which I have kept to this day.”
Mrs. Harvey got up and walked to a secretaire desk, from where she retrieved a folded piece of paper. It was a crinkled letter, yellowed by so many years in storage, and almost tearing where the folds were. She handed the letter to Abby, who read it aloud:
“Dear Mrs. Harvey,
As I expected, the doors to society have now opened to me, and I will no longer require a position in your household. My clothes and things, you can donate to the local parish, as I am in the process of buying a new wardrobe, worthy of my standing. May those rags serve someone else. My fancy hotel in London, I will only leave to inhabit my new great estate. It turns out I’ll be marrying a peer and leaving behind the downstairs forever. I will never be poor again.
Yours,
Millicent Creery”
Abby folded the letter and looked at Cora. “This is what we came for. My dear, do you know who Millicent is?”
Cora looked from Abby to Mrs. Harvey and back to Abby. She did not know what her friend meant. She had no idea why they were sharing that story. “No. Should I?”
“Millicent now answers to the name of Lady Galavyin.”
Chapter Sixteen
&n
bsp; Abby served a feast that evening. They started with oysters, followed by a delicious vegetable bouillon. Broiled trout, chicken, savory potatoes and carrots, and a dessert of plum pudding and cakes came next. Cheese and wine completed the pretty sight. Despite this bounty, Cora managed to eat very little.
Her friend waited until they had finished dinner and the servants had retreated to the kitchen to ask Cora, “My dear friend, do you understand the reasons that led me to ask Mrs. Harvey to share this information with you?”
Cora thought for a moment. “In a way I do. But at the same time, I can’t believe you thought I might use it against her. I could not claim to be any better than her if I employed the same vile strategies she does to get what I desire, now could I?”
Abby smiled. “Cora, I don’t presume to know what goes in your heart and in your mind. I merely decided you needed to know whom you were up against. This is a woman who does not measure her efforts when it comes to getting exactly what she wants. She has come a long way, and she feeds on ambition in ways we cannot begin to understand.”
Cora played with her fork. “That I already knew. This just gives a new dimension to the size of my ordeal. I can’t win.” She dropped her utensil on the plate and held her head in her hands. “I will not even try.” Then she looked at her friend, “I think it is time I returned to my life. I will be forever grateful for your friendship and support. I’ll leave early tomorrow.” She stood and gave her friend an unceremonious hug. Feeling the heaviness of disappointment on her shoulders, she left for her bedroom, where she collapsed on the bed as soon as she changed into her night dress.
She woke with a start. The bedroom was submersed in darkness, but the weight of her bed had suddenly changed. She squinted trying to see through the darkness to no avail. Then a familiar voice made her bones chill and her stomach sink. It wasn’t Abby.
“No reason to worry, Cora. It’s only me.” The person rose from the bed and went towards the window, to open the curtains. She heard the noise of the brocades, and a silver stream of moonlight penetrated the bedroom, making the silhouette obvious: broad shoulders, a proud head, and straight posture.
Still, Cora reached for the nightstand where she found matches to light a candle. Warm light poured into the room and fired Grant Galavyin’s eyes, which looked at her with decision and intent. “Enough hiding, Cora. I came to fetch you. I love you.”
Cora felt the air in the room stifle her, so she hurried to the French doors that led to the balcony. It was a chilly night, but since her body was on fire, the chill was soothing, not piercing. She sensed Grant followed her to the open space of the terrace.
“I do not hide,” she said. “I am simply visiting a friend. I don’t owe you any explanations of my comings and goings. I do as I please.” She stood close to the edge of the balcony and looked onto the gardens that gleamed under the hoary beam of the moon. She braided her hair as she spoke and let it rest against her chest over her left shoulder. “I am a grown woman, I have always taken care of myself, and you should not have convinced my sister—for it was her, wasn’t it?—to tell you where I was. I’m here to distance myself from it all. You had no right—”
Grant Galavyin stood behind her. She could feel his warm breath against the nape of her neck. For a while he didn’t speak nor move. She heard her own inhalations travel to her lungs and her heartbeat drum in her ears. He then stood even closer, and his lips touched the skin at the corner of her shoulder. His arms crossed, anchored at her waist, and his hands rested on her lower belly.
“You understand it is useless, don’t you?” Her words came out in a single exhalation.
“What is?” he whispered into her ear.
“This.” She lifted then dropped her arms.
He turned her toward him. He kissed her forehead. “You mean this?” He lowered his mouth toward the hollow at the base of her neck. “And this?” He traced with his nose the path toward her mouth. “And this too?” He brushed his lips against hers. “And maybe also this?” He finally held her face in his hands and kissed her mouth as if he had succumbed to a great thirst, the kind one gets when crossing the desert. “Do you still want me to leave?”
Cora forgot to mind the cold around her. There was simply too much going on inside her to worry about anything else. She should push him away, right? She should remind herself of the thousand reasons why this could not be. She must inform him of the humiliation imposed by his mother. She should let him know that she would not stand for such offenses, that she was too proud of her life to accept shame. That she had been shamed before, and she would never return to the vulnerable state that had resulted. But somehow his kisses kept turning thoughts into molasses, and her body into a steady wave of longing.
She felt so lightheaded that it took a minute for her to realize what the blanket that Grant fetched from the bedroom was for. He draped it around her and held on to the edges with one hand. He placed her on the settee and settled by her side. They sat on the balcony for a long while. It might actually have been hours, but she could not tell anymore. From time to time, she broke the silence by explaining the stars to him, pointing at a constellation or asking him to identify a particular celestial form. She could hardly remember a brighter sky and a more still night. Grant kept her locked in a firm embrace, and she wished there was no London and no reality beyond the balcony. In time, she could feel she was falling asleep and she welcomed that calm with her whole being. Maybe in her dreams this love would be more possible. Maybe in her dreams he wouldn’t be as impossible to reach as Vega, up in the night sky.
And then he kissed her again, a thousand kisses that covered her cheeks and even the tip of her nose. She returned the affection until it was impossible to imagine being anywhere else, with anyone other than Grant.
****
Grant woke up on Cora’s balcony, with the sun shining on his face. Of Cora herself, he could only smell the perfume, which seemed to emanate from his own body. The last thing he remembered was waking up when it was still dawn, and feeling her weight against his naked chest, at which point he went back to a satisfying and calm sleep.
Maybe she had decided to go back to her bed inside, where it was not cold and where a fire burned nearby. He should make a quick exit to his own room, a few doors down the corridor. Lady Abby Bristow had been a true friend, offering him a bedroom for the night, no judgement in her actions. She must have understood his plight implicitly. Hattie, on the other hand, must have battled issues of conscience before she called for him and revealed where Cora was. He would not let them down. They had taken risks for him. He knew what he wanted, and he hoped it was what Cora wanted too.
But he still had to talk to her, discover why she had run away to this country estate. That, no one seemed to be willing to tell him. He dressed, buttoned and adjusted his white shirt, sank his feet into his boots, and combed his hair messy with his fingers. He inhaled the fresh morning air until his lungs felt full, and blood rushed to his head. When he made it to the bedroom, however, all the air was punched out of him as he realized Cora was gone. The bed was made, the wardrobe empty, and only a note lay on the bed.
I know my place, and you should know yours. These memories we can keep, provided they are saved where no one else can find them.
Love, Cora
And just like that, he had lost her again.
****
“…And just like that she was gone.” Grant rested his elbows on his legs and let his head fall forward toward his hands. He sat at an iron table in Addy’s garden, watching her kids run around and squeak in delight every time a ball bounced or someone got the hoop going with the aid of a stick. It was a remarkable plot, green-grassed and adorned with pretty flowers. He had spent many good afternoons there, as he chatted with his sister and brother in law, and drank lemonade while laughing with the kids. But not today. There was no laughter today.
“I don’t know why she keeps running from me. All I want is to care for her.” Yet again he had been
cautious in his narrative, letting Addy know only the strictly necessary. “Something pulls Cora away from me. It can’t be only pride.”
His sister started with what sounded to him to be tact. “Have you not wondered why you saw Cora in front of the house and why she, although apparently having seen you, left without even a word?”
“Of course I did, but no one would tell me anything. It’s not as if I didn’t ask.”
“I see.”
“Addy?” He sighed. “What do you know?”
“Let’s say my powers of persuasion are greater than yours, and some of the maids at Mother’s house don’t need too much encouragement to tell stories if I ask. Many have, after all, known us since we were children.” She moved about aimlessly, as if deciding how to say what she must. “That day, Cora came to speak to our mother. She left very soon after, not enough time for anything. No refreshments were called for, and she was pale and dazed as she exited the front door.”
“I should have known. Cora wrote me a note about one having to know one’s place. That sounded too much like home. It sounded like everything I fear. Hattie tried to warn me too. I pretended not to know what I already did because I wanted to give our mother the benefit of the doubt. I guess I simply didn’t want to believe it.”
“I’m sorry, Grant. I truly am.”
“Speaking of one’s place, I think it is time our mother learned exactly what hers should be. And it is time Cora knew I would do anything for her. But for now I have an appointment, the kind that a man would prefer not to honor, but I must.”
“What is it?”
“I have been summoned by no other than Sir Rudolph Lester.”