Finding Lady Enderly

by Joanna Davidson Politano

  Her face blossomed with understanding at my idea, yet she hesitated. “This gown is exquisite, but no one will be fooled.”

  I grinned at her over my shoulder. “Oh yes they will.” I held out one gloved hand and she took it. “Raina Bretton of Spitalfields, seller of rags.” I snuck her up the stairs to my bedchamber and turned my back to her. “Come, help me undo these fastenings. We must hurry.”

  Together we dressed her in a crinolette to fit the gown and clean stockings. Then I slipped out of my frock with her help and donned a plainer blue dinner gown.

  Soon I had completed her dress and pinned her hair into a comely arrangement on her head. Strapping my mask to her face completed the costume, and we had fully switched places. “There, you’ll do nicely.” I looked at her flushed face beneath the sparkling mask that did not cover the gleam of her eyes, her rising and falling chest perfectly filling the bodice of my gown. “While you’re dancing, you’ll have the freedom to say what needs to be said between you. No one will hear if you keep your voice down.” I led her back down the stairs, careful to keep in the shadows and watch for servants passing through. “Make certain you speak to no one but the earl.”

  She clamped her hands into fists. “If he does not toss me out on my ear when he finds out who it is.”

  “He will speak with you, that I promise. Whatever passed between you is the biggest regret in his life.”

  She nodded, her slender back straight. With a deep breath, she turned toward the salon’s open doors, sweeping like the true Cinderella toward the ball that should have been hers all along. I could almost feel her pounding heart as she approached the double doors. Head straight, shoulders pressed back, she stepped inside and glanced around.

  Draping myself in the woman’s cloak, I slipped through the shadowed hall to the unused east doors that were blocked on the inside by a great display of flowers and vines. I nudged the doors open a crack and watched.

  The woman in the sparkling blue dress stopped just before the rows of swirling dancers and stared across the room at the earl, who stood alone in the back of the room, turning when he spotted her. Would he know immediately? Did he know even now? They remained this way for the rest of the song, these two watching each other through the crowds. When the music ended and the dancers broke apart, she moved forward and approached him with measured tread, her gait steady and sure while he waited, gaze fixed on her.

  I could barely breathe as their love story unfolded before me. Then she was standing before him, looking up into his face. The next song swelled and the dancers again took their positions. Without a word, the earl lifted her arms into position, placing one on his shoulder, and swept his lady into the waltz around them. They soared around the room, gazes locked as if no one else existed. He embraced her frame with one arm as he danced, as if shielding her from the rest of the world, keeping her selfishly to himself.

  Then another thought struck me. Those letters in the desk—if her brother was E. M. Lockharte, then she was E. E. L., with L for Lockharte. It all made sense, watching them together. With every spin, his movements were more alive, more vigorous, than I’d ever seen in him. It was as if he were a music box and she the key that wound its spring and made it play. Around the room they flew, so wrapped up in the vision of each other and whatever they must be whispering back and forth.

  I still love you, I imagined him saying. I love you so much it hurts.

  Oh, I’m glad, Mitchell! I was so afraid our story was over.

  As the song ended, they slowed their spins. He lifted her gloved arm and led her in one final twirl, then wrapped his arm around her waist possessively and drew her away from the crowds, through the curtains, and onto the balcony.

  I turned away from the doors, leaning my back against them, and lived out the rest in my dreamy imagination. My heart thudded as if it were me being drawn onto that balcony with the man I loved, finally within reach of a happily-ever-after to an epic love story.

  He would speak in that low, solemn tone the minute they were separated from the view of the crowd. I cannot bear to be parted from you again.

  But it’s far too complicated. Everyone believes you are married.

  Yes, to a girl who looks remarkably like you.

  I closed my eyes as the images swirled, eclipsing all the questions from my practical side that wondered what might become of me, the extra countess.

  I must go home before someone stumbles on both her and me together and realizes the truth.

  No, my love. What you must do is stay. Stay, and be the woman those papers claim I married. Be my wife, beautiful E. E. Lockharte, and live in this abbey with me forever. It can all be yours, and all the lovely gowns besides. It’s as if they were made for you anyway. It’s perfect, and you must say yes. I will not let you slip out into the night and disappear again—I must have you for my own.

  But what of the other girl? She’ll never want to leave this life.

  Oh, I believe she will. You see, she’s in love with someone else, and she wants nothing but to flee from this place. The position is yours for the taking. Please, be my wife. Stay by my side and—

  A door slammed. My eyes flew open and dainty slippers echoed on the tile floor. I spun and put my eye to the crack again. The earl leaned against a large pillar, his head down, and the blue gown had disappeared.

  No!

  I hurried back out into the hall to watch a glittering figure slip through the dimness toward the stairs, then the front door. I ran to her, blocking her exit.

  “I’ll return your gown by post.” She was breathless, harried.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. It’s where I belong.” She wove around me as I tugged off her cloak.

  I stepped before her again, handing her the cloak with hesitation. “What about the earl?”

  “I’ll launder them thoroughly and have them sent straightaway.” She threw her cloak around herself and turned.

  I laid a hand on her arm as my heart crumpled in my chest. “Did you speak with him?”

  She paused, arm stiff under my hand, and looked up. Tears blurred her bright eyes. “We spoke.”

  “It did not go well?”

  “Everything is set to right. I’m glad I came. Thank you. Thank you so much for allowing me—no, convincing me—to do this.”

  “But you will not stay and be the countess?”

  She removed my costume mask from her eyes, revealing the smile so full of that splendid spirit that the earl had spoken of, that natural elegance I’d so desired, and placed the jeweled thing in my hands. “I will never be the countess. The position is forever yours, and may you enjoy your good fortune.”

  “But I don’t want it. I—”

  She silenced me with a gloved fingertip to her lips, then lowered her hand to pull off the gloves, finger by silken finger. “This house needs a lady of the manor. So does Mitchell. You are the rightful countess now. Make the most of it and live well.” Her eyes glowed just as they did in the portrait as she handed me the gloves. “Enjoy everything for the both of us.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her of Sully, of my utter hatred for living a charade, but like a wraith she turned in a whish of grand skirts and slipped out of the abbey forever.

  Strength left my body in a whoosh, and I sank back onto a narrow bench in the hall. How could it have come to this? Had I not succeeded more than I’d ever imagined? I’d found her, that mysterious woman in the portrait, and I’d brought her to the abbey. I’d put her together with the earl . . . yet she had left alone. I looked down at the gloves and mask, realizing one thing more terrible than being suddenly displaced—I was now forever stuck in this position, for there was no one left to claim it.

  I jumped at the sound of laughter nearby and hurried into the little front parlor set aside for my meeting with the woman who had just left, closing the door behind me. I still had a night of guests to survive. I had only to carry the charade through tonight, then in the morning I would decide wh
at must be done. Perhaps there was nothing for it but to escape with Sully—but how? How could we possibly evade Prendergast? Fumbling with the gloves, I put them on and stood before the long window. I had lost my glittering gown, but perhaps no one would notice. I fixed the mask back onto my face. Or I could say I spilled—

  No. No more deception. This was all too much.

  I stared at the reflection of who I had become. The plainer dinner gown hugged my frame, my curls swept into an elaborate arrangement, creating a most becoming picture, but my face—oh, my face! The pale contours revealed the trouble within and the sleepless nights I had spent in this abbey. My stomach twisted into knots. Deep within the abbey, the rotting, splintering timbers in the old chapel creaked and groaned against the force of strong gusts. The woman had been right—I truly was the rightful Lady Enderly. This house with its neglected, derelict center so greatly resembled its mistress, and I was the only one it had. This house . . . this house was me.

  “Raina!” Sully’s terse whisper came from somewhere near the service entrance. He was searching after me.

  I hurried to a side door. Did I dare show myself to him?

  Then another voice. “Lady Enderly?” It was Prendergast. “Countess!”

  I put a shaking hand to my forehead. Many conflicting names circled my brain like a flock of dizzy birds, each fighting for the right to lay claim to me. Ragna. Lovelyn Shaunghess. Queen Esther. Raina Bretton. Lady Enderly. Cinderella. Each had so many responsibilities tied to it, and I couldn’t stand up under the weight of them all. But the truth was, I was trapped forever as this. As her.

  Then Victor Prendergast was flinging the door wide, marching across the tiny room in two strides, and throwing his powerful arms around me. “There you are.” His gaze devoured me, as if I sated some hunger in him he was desperate to fulfill, then he was smothering me with rum-scented kisses upon my jaw, my neck, my cheek.

  I struggled against his grasp, shoving back against his chest even as he pushed in more forcefully. The stench of alcohol burned my nose. I wanted to yell for Sully but didn’t dare. In a flash I grabbed the first hard object I could reach and smashed it against the side of his face with a dull thud. He cried out and I fell back, clutching my weapon. It was a book.

  Prendergast pressed his hand to the gash in his lip and drew it away to see blood on his fingers. I stiffened as he growled, then he spun and stalked out of the room. I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that everything was all right, the disaster had been averted, yet I didn’t believe it any more than I believed I was Lady Enderly.

  My heart cried out for God, twisting with the knowledge that I had no right to do so.

  I leaned against the wall as my trembling legs threatened to give way and took several dizzying deep breaths. I had to go back out there, carry on for at least a little longer. I forced myself to move out into the hall, still shaking and overwhelmed, and Simone was the first one I saw. Standing alone and perfectly still like one of the pillars around her, she watched me, silently condemning me for the private moment with the solicitor. “Your guests wish to bid you good night, but they cannot find you.”

  Good. The night would soon be over.

  Somehow I managed to smile as I wished my guests a good evening and watched them take their leave, escorted toward waiting carriages lined up down the drive. No one breathed a word about the plainer gown. I waved with a steady hand and my smile held, even as the chaos within my soul clamored against its polished exterior. Soon it would leak out.

  Where was Sully? I searched the crowds for his face, his handsomely liveried figure, but he was nowhere. Perhaps when everyone had gone I would be able to find him. We desperately needed to talk. Even if I closed us into a closet in the hall, we had to speak of escape before panic strangled me.

  I stood alone momentarily in the hushed front hall, my heart thudding with dread. It was in that moment of fear and wondering that Anna the scullery maid hurried up to me and lowered her voice. “My lady, there’s a man in the abandoned chapel who says he knows you. He’s hurt badly and he’ll speak to none but you.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Some vagabond from Spitalfields in London’s East End. Won’t come out of the chapel room, either.”

  The familiar name rang through my head like a painful echo of the past. It had to be one of my brothers. But how had they found me?

  “Did he give a name?”

  “No, my lady. Won’t say anything but to ask for you.”

  “Thank you, Anna. Keep everyone else away from there so they’re not alarmed. Just until I see what he wants.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She bobbed a curtsy and hurried back into the salon where the cleanup had begun with the rest of the servants.

  Heart pounding, I ran to find Bradford coming out of the servants’ hall. “Bradford, the key. I need the key to the locked rooms.”

  He fished it out of his breast pocket and handed it over with a frown. “Everything is all right, my lady?”

  “Perfectly fine.” I met his gaze. “I must ask you to trust me. I’ll explain everything later.”

  His hesitation both warmed and worried me, as if he was concerned for my safety, but he remained behind as I flew down the dim hall, grabbing a candle as I went. The groaning of the timbers in the chapel grew louder as I approached, and a snap inside startled me, but I pressed on. Who would I find on the other side of those doors? It couldn’t be Paul, for they would have mentioned his uniform. Samuel wouldn’t know where to find me, and Peter—

  More pops and groans, then a crash. I flung open the doors and a wave of heat rolled over my skin from a blaze already engulfing the room. Panicked, I darted into the leaping shadows, calling out for whoever had summoned me.

  The doors slammed shut behind me, and panicked realization flooded my being. A trap! I cried out as fire billowed up around a pillar. It groaned against the assault and buckled, bringing pieces of the chapel roof down as it folded and fell. I scrambled away as more of the roof collapsed into the room. Flames crawled up the ancient drapes around the windows and covered the doorway.

  I wasn’t ready to die. That thought of coming face-to-face with God, standing before him with nothing but my heart full of chaos, drove me into a frantic sprint across the room, desperate for escape.

  Then I saw her, a still, dark figure like a shadow standing outside the window just beyond. Simone’s eyes blazed like the fire from where she stood in the courtyard, then she vanished. I turned and ran toward that window, but my shoe caught on a loose rug, sending me sprawling. My head struck hard wood and the room narrowed and blurred. A heavy, liquid sleep forced its way over me.

  In the dimming consciousness, I heard voices calling from different directions. Lady Enderly. Countess. Raina. The circling birds whipped into a frenzy, cawing and pecking at my heart, demanding and scolding. Lovelyn Shaunghess. Ragna. Queen Esther. Countess. Cinderella. Splintering and crashing around me seemed like only background noise.

  The voices blended, and the room faded to black.

  31

  I never needed a new identity—just a better understanding of the one who gave it to me.

  ~Diary of a Substitute Countess

  The coolness of night air washed over my tired body, mercifully refreshing it. What had I been worried about? I couldn’t even remember. Everything felt wonderful. I felt wonderful. Lolling in peace, I rolled over and opened my eyes, and there was Sully, propped on one elbow and smiling down at me. I took a deep breath of moist Spitalfields air and exhaled with a smile. How wonderful it was simply to be in his presence.

  “Serendipity. The name for that star over there.”

  I smiled. “A fitting name.”

  We reclined together on the terraced roof of my building, naming stars as if we were king and queen of the skies.

  I pointed to an especially bright star. Those were always the ones that drew my attention. “That one is too dazzling to be simply an Alice. It needs a sensational name like All
esoria or Sophronia or . . .”

  “Or Raina?” He grinned playfully at me.

  I batted his arm and rolled onto my back again, lifting my eyes to the faraway lights muffled by the city. Still, it was such a grand view of something so enormous in the midst of our small lives. It gave me a notion that heaven, that place to which we looked forward, would possess all the immensity and beauty I lacked in this cramped place. “It doesn’t sound like much, just two boring syllables, but Mum says it means ‘queen.’”

  He jumped up and curtsied, pinching the sides of his tattered vest and dipping low. “My lady.”

  “Oh, stop.” I laughed and lay back on the slate again, adjusting my head until the roof didn’t hurt my scalp.

  He joined me, hands behind his head. “It doesn’t suit.”

  “What, the star’s name?”

  “Yours.” He stared at the sky. “Queen is just too . . . I don’t know, too high horse. I’d never be able to lie on a roof and name stars with a royal lass.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’d be a different sort of queen.”

  After a brief silence, my mind drifted to the stars and I closed my eyes. When he continued, his voice was little more than pleasant background noise for this perfect moment. “You know, the first time you told me your name, I thought for all the world I heard you say a word from me own Irish hills. ‘Renaugh,’ it was, and I says to meself, why would a girl be called ‘renew’? But it fits you.”

  I sighed with my eyes closed, letting his pleasant Irish lilt waft over me. “Does it, now?”

  “I think it’s more fitting than ‘queen’ in any case, don’t you? Now that I know you, I like to think of you that way. Renaugh.”

  The word swam through my hazy subconscious as that faraway evening dimmed.

  Renaugh.

  Renaugh.

  Raina.

  A popping noise drew my brain out of its hazy slumber and into a dimmer space with a crackling fire somewhere nearby. I forced my gritty eyes open, and the enchanted rooftop moment with Sully slid back to the pages of my memories where it had come from.