When I turned to greet the two lines of staff, my gaze snapped to the second footman who stood tall and still, watching me with no change to his expression. Every time I saw him, my relief was immense, but fear of his leaving always simmered near the surface.
The other servants bowed or curtsied and murmured polite responses, but Sully remained stiff, watching me with eyes that did not smile or turn toward my face. Had it been any other man I would assume indifference had settled in, but not so with Sully. His stance indicated a supreme effort to school his emotions. His very presence here, despite everything, said so much.
Forcing myself to pivot away from him, I turned to smile at the butler.
“If I may say so, my lady, you look sensational tonight.” Bradford uttered the words with a respectful hush to his voice.
“They’ve all come to stare at me tonight. I thought I’d make it worth their while. Would you do the honor of opening the doors for our guests? I believe it’s time to open this house to the public.”
With a deep bow, he strode to the door to comply, and soon a crowd of locals in their Sunday best surged into the well-lit hall and exclaimed over the fine things, reaching out to touch the long gold tassels and the handsome pewter on stands.
For the first time since I’d found him in the shadows with a bag in tow, Sully and I had a moment of near-privacy. “Thank you.” I whispered these words over my shoulder with a tilt of my head. “Thank you for staying.”
“I couldn’t bear to leave you alone with him. We’ll figure a way out of this together.”
As his words melted my insides, I turned to glimpse my lady’s maid on her evening of freedom and merriment, but I was surprised to see her even more stoic and closed off than ever before. Her fathomless dark eyes had narrowed into feline-like slits, and her face looked even paler than it did against her black service dresses. I recognized immediately the look that had seldom been cast my direction—pure female jealousy. Who was it? Whose attention did she seek that I had stolen? I glanced at each of the men from the household in turn and wondered—Philip Scatchard, Victor Prendergast, Bradford, the earl . . . None fit.
Surely it wasn’t Sully. No, it couldn’t be. She couldn’t have even known we’d been talking.
Within an hour the guests had consumed all the fresh pudding in the large silver compotes on stands. Liveried servants worked quickly to dole out more spiced cider as the guests swarmed through the rooms open to them. Among the hum of conversation around me, a presence near my elbow made me spin to face a guest in a long dark gown. “Lady Enderly, I had the honor of making your acquaintance at the charming reception you hosted some weeks ago. Perhaps you recall—Mrs. Harrison of Landham?”
I didn’t. “Mrs. Harrison, how kind of you to join us tonight.” My lips lifted in a smile I did not feel. “I hope you are enjoying the festivities.”
“Once I settled in and decided to enjoy myself, I had a fine time.” She smiled and patted my arm. “I merely had to overcome my surprise at the . . . wide variety of guests you included tonight. I was given to understand it was a formal affair.”
I pinched my lips into a smile. “It is quite formal. Did the invitations not specify that?”
“Oh they did, and that is what confused me. It’s just . . . I’ve never attended a party with so many people. So many different people.” She held her glass of cider aloft to indicate the whole room and flashed a smile even more fraudulent than mine.
I blinked and glanced around the room again. Surely she couldn’t mean mixing the peasants with the society guests. Odd as it was, Rothburne’s former owners had done it for years with wild success. I returned her smile. “You must not have had the pleasure of attending Rothburne’s open houses in the past. Gatherings such as this were a tradition.”
“I most assuredly have attended. They would not have considered omitting me from their guest list. They were just as festive, but without your unique blend of guests. The event I attended was held the day after the house was opened to locals, but I imagine that’s a great deal of work—two gatherings instead of one large, happy soiree such as this.” Her forced smile nearly broke her mouth.
I struggled to find words, but the façade of Lady Enderly was lost in the presence of this high-bred woman and her sticky-sweet words of condemnation.
“Congratulations to you on the most unique guest list of the season. It’s a mixture no other lady would dare attempt.” With that she sailed away, leaving me with my delicate spirit crumbled and scattered miserably around my jeweled slippers. The earl was right—we may look similar, but there was something innate in her that I simply did not possess.
“And look at all the life and color in our midst because of it, my lady.” Dear Bradford slipped up beside me, a tray tucked under his arm as he watched our guests. “As I said before, conventional countesses are plentiful. We’re thankful to have an original.”
“Thank you, Bradford.” I blinked away the sting of tears. This would be the worst time to give in to them.
“Did you happen to notice the fine silver in use tonight?”
I glanced about at the glittering trays and flatware spread out on tables and among the guests. “It’s stunning.”
“It was brought out by the request of someone who truly wanted to see you succeed this night and find favor with the locals.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Who?”
He jerked his head to the side, indicating a well-dressed gent with dark hair who conversed graciously with several guests. He turned his face for a moment, and I caught my breath at the sight of his profile. “Cousin Philip.” Yes, it was. The hateful cousin was neatly shaven and pressed, his stance natural and—oddly enough—somewhat friendly.
“Perhaps you’ve not been watching him the last few days, but he’s become quite a new man. He’s worked diligently on the estate books every day, and he’s asked for nothing but tea to drink.”
I gawked at the young man who had emerged from beneath layers of bitterness and despair. Dark hair waved away from his face that now had a freshly cleaned and oiled look to it. “I hardly know what to say. I hadn’t noticed.”
“Yet another part of this house that our unconventional countess has touched with her special brand of color.” He winked.
The change was undeniable, yet how could I have had any hand in it? The kind butler simply saw me in too generous a light.
He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Never be ashamed of who you are, your ladyship, for you have something powerful in you.”
A wobbly smile hid the turmoil his words stirred up inside. How could I bear it? How could I stand here and continue to lie to these people? There was nothing powerful in the real me. Not at all.
“There is only one Lady Enderly, and we are grateful to have her at our abbey.”
“You are too kind, Bradford.” Truly. “If you’ll excuse me . . .” I fled from the room, unable to take any more. He was right, there was only one Lady Enderly—but she wasn’t at the abbey. I was here in her stead.
Escaping the crowds, I tucked myself into the cloister walk to soak up the beauty there, needing every last morsel of it I could come by. Perhaps a moment of solitude would restore me. I had to carry out the evening well.
Once alone, I leaned against the windows, shut my eyes, and allowed myself to acknowledge the painful truth—deep inside, I wished I was her. I wished all the things said of this magnificent woman were true of me, and I wished this was really my life to spend in whatever way I chose.
After three long, cleansing breaths, a deep, rumbling voice jarred me from my thoughts. “Pardon me, but do you happen to know what this one is called?”
Shoving aside my worries, I spun to face an older local man towering over the plants. Brown-and-gray wavy hair framed his face from his dark, frowning eyebrows to his jawline, leaving the top of his shiny head without adornment, yet his gaze was not unkind.
I mustered a pleasant smile. “I’ve no idea, but I call it the purpl
e mist.”
He lifted that probing gaze to me. He was a giant of a man, but not just in his stature—his very nature seemed large and imposing. “I’d heard the countess was partial to flowers.” His words held an edge of accusation.
I forced the smile to remain in place, nerves raw. “One can appreciate flowers without knowing everything about them. A name means little, really.”
He stepped closer, large hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. “A name is a plant’s identity and it is far from random. Like this hydrangea. Hydra means water, because it needs a lot of it. Knowing that is important.”
I could not match this farmer’s knowledge of plants, so I forced another smile. “Fortunately I have gardeners who care for the plants. I merely enjoy them.”
But he was persistent. “Then take you, for example. Your name tells me everything about you that’s important to know.”
My fingers trembled as they brushed the leaves of the “water” plant whose name I’d already forgotten. “How can you know anything about me from a name?” How I hated names. My original one declared me the rag woman, the castoff, and the other sat like a target on my forehead, placing me in danger while also turning the knife of my conscience.
“Well, I don’t know them all, but the fact that there are four of them tells me you are a woman of rank. The last tells me who your husband is, and your title makes it clear that you have a position in politics.”
“It is the earl who sits in the House of Lords. I merely sit in his house.”
“Where you hold great influence over him, I suspect. Which he in turn carries into the House.”
“I listen more than I speak where it comes to the earl.” Truer words I’d never spoken.
He studied me for a moment, as if judging what he should say. “I heard you were renovating the abbey. Is it true?”
I nodded. “A bit slowly, but yes. Renovating.”
“I’d like to offer my help. I noticed you have truss weakness in the inner rooms. Water damage has rotted the wood and weakened the masonry too.”
I stiffened. “Those rooms are closed to guests.” They were embarrassingly disastrous, holding not only the unrenovated ruin but much of the debris from work in the other rooms as well. It had been a catch-all for wreckage of all kinds with the understanding that no one would see it. His comment on them felt as invasive as if he’d stepped into my soul and seen the chaos churning my insides beneath the exquisite gown I wore.
He raised one massive eyebrow. “Overlooked and underestimated, I see. But they won’t be for long. It’s the inner rooms of a house that hold it all up. I suggest you let me help before they crash in around you. I’m the cheapest worker you’ll find, and quite willing. Plenty of experience too.”
“I’ll bear the offer in mind.” So the nosey man was trying to sell me his services. Wavering on the edge of my patience, overflowing with the thousands of worries pulling me in different directions, I excused myself from this most opinionated guest.
His voice rumbled behind me. “Tomorrow is for maybes, today is for what’s truly important.”
No, today was for the urgent. For me, at least. The only thing in that category was convincing a roomful of people who had already seen my flaws that I was truly the countess. It was vital. I would untangle everything else later, all those nagging pokes to my conscience, when Sully and I had escaped this place alive.
“If you’ll excuse me, I am neglecting my other guests.”
Hurrying back through the cloister walk and toward the grand hall, I glided past the little gatherings of guests in the passageways, smiling with a gracious, detached air, willing my heart to be calm.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a long window and was struck with the elegant beauty Simone had made of me this night. It’s the inner rooms that hold it all up. Those inner rooms, the ugliest, debris-laden, neglected part that no one was ever allowed to see. Hand to my silk-wrapped waist, I glanced into a distant mirror. Beautiful.
But crumbling inside.
I glanced at the tall clock standing against the far wall and lifted a cup of cider. How much longer? Was it too early to slip away from the guests? It was not quite midnight, and no hostess would leave this early. I slipped into the entry hall away from the crowds for air. In the hush of blue-black moonlight, I sighed and brushed stray hairs off my forehead. The air was cooler out here, and I inhaled it into my warm chest.
It was time to admit it—I was in too deep. This role was more than I could handle. Victor Prendergast could attempt to convince me I wasn’t made to be a rag woman, but neither did I have the makings of a lady. Even if I desperately wished it.
“Haven’t you had enough?”
I spun around to face Sully in the quiet hall. “You shouldn’t be here. If Prendergast sees—”
“You’ll never be her.” His face was shadowed, his voice low. “You’ve tried and failed. There, I’ve said it. You will never successfully be anyone but yourself. Now can we leave?”
I shuddered at the blunt statement of my failure, even more so because it came from him. “I have to do this, Sully. It’s—”
“No, you don’t. We can run away this minute and go into hiding. If rescuing me is truly your only reason for staying, let us rescue one another right now. He’ll never find us.”
“He can. He will.” I shuddered at the memory of his intensity that had left marks on my arm. And if he didn’t find us, the law eventually would. “If I stay, we are safe for now, and we can go free when this is all over.”
He stepped close, his stormy eyes inches from mine. “I’ve half a mind to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”
“I wouldn’t let you.”
He shoved his fingers through his hair, then grabbed my shoulders. “Don’t do this to me, Raina. I am your rescuer. It’s all I know how to be to you.”
I searched his tormented face. It was an agony I understood. Then I spoke—lovingly, firmly. “This time, I must do the rescuing.”
“You’ll not rescue anyone by staying. He wants you to believe you will, but when has he ever—”
Slow footsteps echoed on the tile. I spun to face whoever approached, and in that breath of time, Sully vanished.
Simone stepped into the circle of light from the candelabra in the corner. “He’s right.”
“Simone. I hope you’re enjoying the night.”
“Your presence here won’t save anyone.”
She knows. She knows. My heart hammered that thought painfully against my chest.
“You’ll do nothing but cause harm to yourself and others the longer you remain.”
But with all that was at stake, what could I do? What could I do? The question tortured my battered heart as thoughts of Sully weakened me.
“If you wish to do any good at all, you’ll leave now and never look back.” Her voice cracked. What had occurred tonight? I remembered clearly her look of angst after our grand descent, but what could it mean? What man had driven her to such fierce jealousy?
“It’s much more complicated than you believe.”
“No, actually it’s much simpler than you believe.” She moved forward, her dress brushing mine as we stood together in the same dim circle of candle glow. “You wish to know the great secret of our missing countess you’re trying so hard to rescue?”
I held my breath to know the truth of the woman I’d envied, emulated, and admired in turns, the woman whose essence escaped me like a dissolving fog. Here at last I would discover the inner secret of the countess’s abandoned rooms, the great mystery of her soul. I felt sick with anticipation for what was about to be revealed about the woman to whom I could never measure up.
“She doesn’t exist.” She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving my face. “That’s right—there is no Countess of Enderly.”
25
Comparison is always an unfair battle because it pits your own reality against another woman’s façade. Always assume there is more to so
meone than what they show the world.
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
Impossible. Impossible. The word echoed through my dreams. I skimmed the shallow end of the sleep pond all night and woke in a tangle of bed linens. Terrible dreams had leaked out of my imagination and troubled my sleep. Implications of Simone’s revelation rained down on me from every angle and poked my overtired mind. Exhaustion clouded my logic, and I kept repeating one thing—there is no countess.
As I perched at the vanity, a scrawled note caught my eye on the tea tray just delivered—
I have it on good authority that the abbey’s previous owner is arriving sooner than expected, most likely today. He loved this estate and will want to see everything. I thought you should be prepared.
~Bradford
I groaned, and all I could think of was those closed-up disastrous rooms. After arraying myself in a simple front-closing frock, I found myself before the closed doors of the abandoned space. I’d granted the entire staff the morning off after the hard work of the soiree, and it was just as well. Quiet was the best cure for the noise of my thoughts.
Yet now I was left with a large project by myself, for the neglected inner rooms must be attended to. I couldn’t let Uncle Wells see the disrepair there.
Inserting the key and rattling the doors, I pushed them open with the usual swoof of dust and stepped into the silent space. A powerful chill hung on the air that matched the cold fear inside me. Sunlight pierced the dusty dimness from somewhere above, and I walked through the ancient chapel room and took in the muted colors and faded woodwork. A distant echoing drip signified that the farmer had been right—a leak had begun. Soon the place would crumble, and hopefully I would be long gone before it did.
I paused before a lumpy glass window that seemed to melt into the bottom sill with the weight of years, and I stared at the reflection of the girl I’d become. Without the aid of cosmetics and upswept hair, I saw the evidence of the ruin inside me that had leaked through to my pale face after many nights of fitful sleep, and it shocked me. It was true what Bradford had hinted at—one can only ignore rotting insides for so long before the ruin seeps out. If only I could have this place torn down and rebuilt.
Finding Lady Enderly Page 21