Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance)

by Diane Scott Lewis

  Maddie intercepted her at her chamber door. “I don't remember you asking for this day off?”

  Bettina suspected Maddie was a magical creature, with eyes in the back of her head. “There was something I had to do. I am sorry, it will not happen again.” She bunched up her skirt where blood had splattered and inched inside her room.

  “The day’s been slow, but I like it when people tell me their plans.” Maddie grabbed a squawking chicken from a cage in the passage. She snapped its neck with a quick jerk. “Kerra’s disappeared too, have you seen her?”

  “No I have not.” Bettina averted her eyes and shivered despite herself.

  “Ain’t like her to be so thoughtless to me. An’ why did Charlie leave his gig and horse here still?” Maddie wiggled the limp bird. “Ann can pluck this, but there be three beds need stripping upstairs. Hope you ain’t been up with Mr. Camborne.”

  “He is in London. And I would not be. I will take care of the beds.” Bettina tied on her apron and hurried up the stairs, muttering a prayer for Kerra.

  * * * *

  In the early evening, Bettina insisted on walking to the butcher’s to pay their bill for Maddie. Afterwards, she rushed down the Fore Street to Dory’s.

  Dory answered her knock in a worn dressing gown, her expression sulky. Her hair stuck up like a wind-blown dandelion. “She’s sleeping, she’s fine. Heard not a peep from her all day.”

  Bettina guessed Dory saved her vivacity for work hours only. She checked Kerra and found no fresh blood, no fever, and she rested peacefully. Returning to the other side of the partition, Bettina felt disgusted by the condition of Dory’s cottage. In the morning’s chaos she hadn’t noticed the squalidness of this one-room hovel—its dirt floor, the crumbling clay walls and the moldy stench. The few bleak pieces of furniture were shabby discards.

  In a corner, two of the older children beat and combed a fibrous substance, an activity that deluged the air with fluff. They twisted it into ropes with effort, their earnest eyes red-rimmed. Bettina batted floating particles from her mouth and eyes.

  “They’s preparing the American cotton for spinning. Adds money to our till. ’Course them big manufactories has stole honest work from ones who need it,” Dory said in a defensive tone.

  “Is your father living?” Bettina asked, troubled that children performed such labors. Did all the villagers live in similar wretched conditions? She didn’t see how Dory stayed plump under such deprivation.

  “He be killed in a mine accident, five years past. Mamm’s sickly, the others pitch in where they can. But the family depends on me.” Dory acted proud of her indispensable position and Bettina felt a grudging respect for her.

  When she returned to the inn, she realized today was Thursday and she was late for her teaching at the manor. Yet she felt too harassed to face Frederick, and she wanted to stay close to the inn, in case Dory brought word about Kerra.

  “Ann, can your son run a message up to Bronnmargh for me?” Bettina asked.

  The rangy woman glared her up and down, as if this only convinced her that Bettina had joined the immoral disciples of Satan. “For a price, I s’pose he could,” she said, calling for Morley. “Lack of chastity is the road to downfall,” the older woman muttered under her breath.

  “Being overly critical is not a virtue either,” Bettina replied. Under Ann’s shrewd glare, she handed the boy a farthing for his trouble.

  Bettina dragged a bucket into the taproom and scrubbed the floor with vinegar and water. It was a quiet night, only a few miners had come and gone. With no turf fire, or pipe-puffing regulars, the air smelled clean, spicy with vinegar.

  Maddie sat at a table near the fireplace, counting money from the till. She shook her head every so often, chewing her lower lip, her chin in her hand and elbow on the table. She kept her wavy brunette hair short; it barely reached her shoulders. She didn’t bother to pin it up under her white linen cap, now yellowed with age.

  “Here’s your pay. Now don’t buy that gilded carriage too quick,” Maddie said with a slight grin, pushing two crowns across the surface.

  Bettina sat in a chair opposite, drying her hands on her apron. She admired Maddie, running a business with no man’s support. After her experience with Everett, she knew the only true strength was to rely on oneself.

  Maddie straightened and stretched. “This is the worst part of bein’ your own boss. Keeping it all balanced, an’ hoping for a profit. Does you know how I ended up with this place?”

  Bettina smiled, propped up both elbows and entwined her fingers together. “Kerra told me you won it in a card game.”

  “Aye. I’d worked here for six years, but after old man Whitecomb left, found I still had much to learn. I be twenty-two, near Kerra’s age. Kept waiting for some relative of his to barge in and take it away. Guess I’m pretty safe now,” she said with a gentle laugh. “This place were called the Bleeding Horse. But as soon as it were mine, that were the first thing I changed.”

  “You are so strong to take on all that, and make it successful.” Bettina idly stirred one of her coins on the table.

  “Well, it’s worked out. We live better than we ever did as children. Father, with all his failings, did teach me one skill.” Maddie half-smiled at that thought, then managed to look a shade embarrassed. “But I don’t gamble no more. Try to keep it decent enough ’round here.”

  “What ever happened to your father?”

  “Don’t know. He left here for good not long after I begun work here. We never heard from him again. Kerra said she tried to find him when she were in London, in case he ended up there. But that’s an awful big city to be searching for a no-account.”

  Bettina saw she held no veneration for her missing parent. “I have always wondered, why did Kerra go to London? Not just to seek out your father, yes?”

  “Nay. Some honey-tongued bounder promised her an honest position with good wages. But turned out that weren’t the position he was after. ’Course, she found you. An’ where was you going … or coming from?” This was the first time Maddie asked about her origins; she seemed in a talkative mood tonight.

  “My family thought I would be safer in England, with all the problems in France. But the people they sent me to in Bath had moved. With no means to contact anyone, I was stranded. That is when Kerra brought me here. I am fortunate to have met her.” Bettina clinked her two coins together. “I may not always show my appreciation, but I am grateful to both of you for all you have done.”

  “Aye. You’ve been a hard worker, and a friend. But didn’t take no book smarts to figure you weren’t raised as lacking as us.” Maddie winked at her, her smile warm. “Speaking of Kerra, has you seen her today? I’m getting worried.”

  “I am sure she is fine.” Bettina cast down her eyes, still scraping the coins lightly across a tabletop worn by years of elbows and hands, spilled drinks and burns from pipes.

  “Say, weren’t this your evening at the manor?”

  “I did not feel like going.” Bettina sighed heavier than she intended. A flickering candle, the mutton smell sharp, danced shadow and light across Maddie’s features. “What ever happened to that man, the one you said you loved a long time ago?” The other woman grimaced. “Oh, forgive me. How tactless of me to bring that up.”

  “Nay, it’s all right.” Maddie shifted in her chair and bit down on her lower lip. “He weren’t from around here. A sea captain from Wales, his ship be stranded down in one of our coves during a storm. A local fella, his first mate, brought him to the inn. I be eighteen then, servin’ here at the Bleeding Horse. My, he were handsome, coal black hair and shining black eyes. A rich honey of a voice.” Maddie’s face relaxed into a smile, her tone now dreamy. “Swept me up right off, he did. Stopped in to see me ever so often, when he could. Then I learnt he had a wife in Cardiff. But he promised to leave her and come fetch me. I foolishly kept giving in. After he went home, telling me he had to settle things, found I….” Maddie dropped her voice to a whisper.
“Well, Kerra don’t know this, an’ don’t never tell her, but found I be with child. Three months passed, instinct told me he weren’t never coming back. I got someone to help me rid myself of the baby.”

  “Maddie, I am so sorry.” Bettina squeezed her hand, before turning her head to blink back tears for her tragic, ironic tale.

  “Aye, I ain’t proud of it. But those feelings be dried up and blowed away.” Maddie laughed unexpectedly. “Later, after I claimed ownership of this place, a parcel of money come with a note, unsigned, but I knew his hand. He said ‘put in a sturdy floor for a sublime woman to walk’. Sublime, had to ask someone what that meant. But I done just that.” She tapped her toe on the plank floor. Then she exhaled with a low sigh, as if releasing the last trace of memories from deep inside. “An’ just because I ain’t met no one to marry, don’t mean you won’t.”

  “I do not think I want to love again.” Did she possess the strength to cut herself off forever for one fleeting liaison, as Maddie had?

  “Just be sensible. I hope Kerra is also being sensible.” Maddie sighed again.

  Guilt seeped into Bettina at keeping secrets, but she couldn’t break her promise to Kerra. “Have you ever spoken to Kerra about what you discussed with me … about men and all the rest?”

  Maddie half chuckled, looking thoughtful. “I tried to be a mama to Kerra, but it ain’t been easy for her. When she were born I was almost eight … and Mamm died. I had to help raise her. I’m afraid Kerra be let to run wild, with me working, no mother, and Father not around much.”

  “I never realized before coming to England, how difficult living can be for the poorer people.” Bettina finally understood what had brought on the revolution in France. Now she resigned herself to an even longer time in Cornwall and slid one of her crowns back to Maddie. “Can you do me a tremendous favor, please? Inform Dory she has received a raise, but to keep it quiet. And give her half of my pay each time. I want this to be between you and me only.” A few more months here wouldn’t matter, she tried to convince herself as she remembered those pale, skinny children in Dory’s cottage.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bettina awoke with a low cramp. Finding blood on her chemise, she almost cried in relief. Yet another strange loss seeped in and she trailed her fingers over her abdomen. Arranging the rags refocused her thoughts. She then dressed, left her room and rummaged through the kitchen pantry. With a bottle of port tucked under her arm, she slipped out into the early morning air and rushed to Dory’s cottage.

  Kerra glared at her from a tumble of dirty quilts. “Come to free me, Mamsell?”

  “You look much healthier, the color is back in your cheeks.” Bettina restrained from hugging her. “But Maddie, she is starting to worry. What can I tell her? You should rest a few days more.”

  “Tell her I went to Padstow to visit a sick friend. Tol’ Dory to say the same.” Kerra pulled her fingers through tangled hair. “Think I'll be up tomorrow. Can't stay here much longer. Dory’s cooking is terrible. An’ all these young’uns be jangling my nerves. Can’t breathe with the cotton making the air thick neither.”

  “I brought you some port for strengthening. I will have to pay Maddie back for that.” What was more debt now? Bettina handed Kerra the bottle and gazed at her gaunt face. “I still think Charlie should know. He is half responsible. Why should you suffer for something you both did?”

  “Fie, don’t you never breathe a word ’bout this to him. He won’t be happy with me for disappearing as it is.” Kerra yawned and stretched one skinny arm up over her head.

  “You worry too much about Charlie’s feelings. What about your own?” Bettina listened to the children arguing on the other side of the partition—two warped doors tied together with rope. Then she gazed down at Kerra. “Are you comfortable with … with what you had to do?”

  “Me?” Kerra snorted, sitting up straight in the bed. She scratched the tip of her nose. “I’m strong as a mule, don’t never worry ’bout me.”

  Bettina left her restless friend and walked slowly back up the road. The continued cramps in her abdomen assured her reprieve. She was thankful for Kerra’s recovery, but her world remained in chaos. She mulled over the last she’d read in the papers about France. The King, after his flight from Paris and return, had assumed minimal duties as monarch, and Bettina’s hopes rose. But now people petitioned for his disposal.

  A celebration of the second anniversary of the Bastille’s fall had taken place on the Champ de Mars. A few days later, a riot broke out. The National Guard fired on the people, killing many. How ironic that now the rebels murdered one another.

  Bettina kicked at pebbles with her scuffed shoes. She filled with guilt over her family’s years of tax-exempt status, made possible by the enslavement of the poor. Dory’s appalling situation sharpened her view. For the lower classes, life remained a constant struggle. How well she knew this since becoming one of them.

  Then she thought of Everett, a man she’d compromised herself with who offered no future. What did it matter if she loved him, if he didn’t return the sentiment? She had her own life to plan. Nature had given her a second chance, and she refused to end up like Kerra.

  * * * *

  Bettina handed Benny the letter she’d written for him to give to his landlord. He paid her and left the taproom. After returning from Dory’s on Friday, she’d put out word she’d write letters in a fine hand for any who could pay and supplied their own paper and ink. Three regulars had immediately requested her services.

  “Workin’ on Sunday, no less!” Old Milt jeered. He slurped from a tankard at the front table. “Camborne ain’t payin’ you enough, is he?”

  She suppressed a twinge at the mention of Everett. “I do not plan to drown in ale and linger in destitution, like some people around here.” Bettina winked at him.

  “Ooooh, you has a salty tongue now, don’t ’ee? Glad to see it, glad to see it.” He cackled and slurped some more.

  Bettina felt some pride in besting the old codger. The taproom was stuffy, so she walked out onto the front porch. The twilight faded over the ocean, the air felt pleasant and warm. Nightjars trebled in the distant trees. Here and there the green shimmer of a glowworm winked. She looked up at the stars starting to poke out in the sky and couldn't help recalling the night she and Everett briefly discussed stargazing. At the time he’d seemed so enticing to her. Now he proved all too flawed and human.

  The front door squeaked opened and Maddie came up beside her. “Is you feeling any better, child?”

  “I am not certain. It is confusing,” Bettina sighed. “I am furious he treated me so coldly. But I am also hurt, so hurt I cannot explain.” Secretly, she preferred the anger. It kept her misery from seeping out of every seam, as if she were a piece of rotten fruit.

  “Wish I could tell you something to put it right. But you has to go through it on your own. Let the pain wear itself down.” Maddie put an arm around her. She smelled like the Canary wine she’d cleaned up earlier after a regular spilled it. “Men can be such rips, aye, useless.”

  “It is my fault too. I did not have to stay the night with him.” Bettina closed her eyes against the tumbling feelings inside her. “I do not know what possessed me.”

  “What about the boy? Is you quitting your schoolin’ with him?”

  “No, not yet. I hope Mr. Camborne does not dismiss me from the tutoring, so I do not clutter up his regimented life. Now he can send Frederick away to school … I do regret that.” But Bettina had planned to abandon the child, which added to her guilt. She rubbed her hands over her cheeks. “Everett never loved me, I just wanted to believe he did. Though he never said that word, so I cannot claim he lied. But I still ache so much inside.”

  “I can understand that feeling.” Maddie chewed on her lower lip. “You hardly ate all day, too, and that ain’t good.”

  “Part of me clings to the idea he had to feel some affection for me. But why hold on to that, it does not make—”

&nb
sp; “Mads!”

  Both women turned to see Kerra emerge into the light from the lantern that hung over the inn door. Bettina frowned at her pallid face and sunken cheeks.

  “Where the hell has you been?” Maddie stepped to the end of the porch.

  Kerra limped closer. “I fell from a horse. I be fine, don’t fuss at me.” She grabbed her sister’s arm and hoisted herself up the steps. “Feelin’ a mite poorly, still. Think I’ll go to bed.”

  “You do look sickly. Had me worried half to death.” Maddie tugged on Kerra’s hair, then slid her arm around her. “Don’t never do that again. Ain’t bein’ responsible.”

  Kerra grinned at Bettina over her shoulder. “I was well taken care of.” The sisters entered the inn and closed the door.

  Bettina gripped the porch rail. A sudden fear surged up that she’d become too ingrained here. “But I will save and leave in the spring. Maman, I promise you, I will travel to London to find you. If you are there.”

  * * * *

  Shevall stretched his long, bony legs into a reluctant gallop. Bettina was riding him up the coast road to Camelford on this beautiful August afternoon. Three weeks had passed since her crushing row with Everett, who remained in London. Inside, she strained to bind her fractured emotions. Maddie spoke true: in time, she’d get over that ill-advised affair.

  Bettina kicked Shevall’s flanks and shifted her tired muscles in the saddle, for she had slept little. Her stomach growled, but food held no appeal.

  She continued to scrimp with her wages for her travel plans. It saddened her that her absence would deny Dory the extra money, but she had to be selfish. The few months with increased wages should have helped to buy those children some decent food and clothes. Frederick was elated at her delayed departure, but she’d have to disappoint him, too.