I nodded, my throat tight, and looked back helplessly at Uncle Wells, my face one big, wide question to which I didn’t truly want an answer.
He watched me go. “The sentence for mutiny is always the same, especially for the leaders.”
Execution.
“I’m so sorry.”
In a breath my legs failed and I crumpled. The two men pulled me up by the arms, pain shooting through my shoulders. White edged my vision.
Somehow I tumbled into the carriage and landed beside the earl. I righted myself, moved to the other seat, and leaned against the window, my oily cheek leaving an unattractive mark on the glass. I didn’t care. The vibration of the carriage echoed through my body, shaking everything loose, until despair and then sleep overtook me.
Chaotic thoughts whipped through my tired mind in my haze of slumber until my head banged against a hard surface, jerking me awake. I groaned and touched my temple where it had struck the carriage wall when the vehicle jolted. I curled my knees to my chest, no more the proper lady, and locked gazes with the earl, who was seated across from me.
“Don’t be discouraged over Uncle Wells. He’s upset over everything now, but he’ll come around eventually.” He reclined on the rear-facing seat, arms folded and ankles crossed. “You’ve truly upended our little country estate, you know, and Uncle doesn’t take well to changes in it that are not limited to construction.”
I sat up a little, mind numb from the pain of everything that had happened—because of me. “I’m sorry.” For so much.
“Don’t be.” He held out a hand, offering a sad smile. “It needed to happen. I’ve been a coward for so long, and you gave me a reason to be better.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. His words settled into my heart. The lines of sorrow across his face, particularly around his eyes, reminded me of the love he himself had lost yet again. “You’re no stranger to heartache.”
“It was as painful as having a bullet pried out of my arm in my days as a soldier. But do you know, I nearly proposed to the nurse who removed it because it brought relief. And it was only after her painful work that I began to heal.”
Heal. That word sounded magical, like cool water on a dry throat. I wished for it myself. “So you did speak with her, then? It was . . . helpful?”
He shrugged. “As much as a bullet being pried from my arm.” He looked down. “Necessary, healing, but . . .”
“Painful.” My voice was so weak. “Tell me about her.”
“Victor did not tell you our story?”
I shook my head.
With a great sigh, he began a tragic tale of two matched souls who were not allowed to marry. “She was a milliner’s daughter with a shop in Belgravia, and we were one of the clients she served. I saw nothing but a plain little shopgirl until one day I caught her unawares in the park, feeding pigeons and tucking little flowers in her hair. Something about Evelyn Lockharte enchanted me, and when she began to speak . . . I was hopelessly lost.”
When the earl’s father had found out about the little dalliances, as he called their passionate relationship, he nearly put the girl’s father out of business and severed their connection. The girl’s mother, a poor but wise woman, had never approved of the match between her daughter and the haughty, spoiled earl. She had forbidden their acquaintance, and they’d had to sneak around behind her.
“I was foolish and headstrong, and I should have turned my back on her enchantment or simply married the girl. Unfortunately I did neither, and soon I learned she was with child. The world is never kind to girls in that situation, and for weeks I could do nothing but picture her, waking or sleeping, huddled in some sorry alley, starving and sick.”
“Didn’t you—”
“She disappeared. I had no idea what became of her and none of them would tell me.”
“So that’s why you refused to marry—because you wanted to be available for her if you ever found her again. How noble of you.”
“Well, there was quite a bit of selfishness involved as well. I did truly love her. In fact, I named the countess after her—Lovely Lyn is what I called her, so my pretend wife became—”
“Lovelyn.” I pondered this. “So then why did you not seize upon the opportunity when she was here? You are not married—not really.”
He heaved a great sigh. “No, but . . . she is.”
I gasped.
“There was a better man than I among her acquaintances who married her to give the child a name.”
I gripped the edge of the leather seat, speechless.
He shrugged. “She says they are quite happy together. They’ve had six more children too. Who would have thought it?” He gave a hollow laugh. “She’s made a wonderful life for herself despite the past, and now . . . well, now, I suppose I should too.”
Despite his feigned nonchalance, anguish tightened the muscles of his neck and shadowed his eyes.
I reached across the vehicle and laid my hand over his. “This cannot be easy for you.”
A single sob was wrenched from his throat, then he sat back, closing his eyes. “Knowing her sweetness has been preserved, her life spared . . . that is enough. It’ll have to be, anyway.” He opened his red-rimmed eyes.
“I’m glad I sent that invitation, then, and glad it found its way to her after all.”
“I’ll admit I thought none too kindly of you at first. Seeing her again, dancing with her, then watching her float away . . .”
“Now you know what became of her.”
“Yes.” He frowned and patted at the wetness around his eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. “That I do. It nearly ripped my heart from my chest, but I suppose it’s the only way I can move forward. Who knew a shopgirl could so change my life?” He took my hand. “There is one other woman who has managed to make a rather considerable impact, you know. That is, the one sitting in front of me.”
“I’ve made a fine mess of it, that’s what.”
“I hope you will continue to do so.”
My hand stiffened in my lap. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve no idea what will become of us as this all unfolds, but perhaps . . . if there is any living yet to be done for me, maybe you’d care to live it out with me.”
“Oh no, I can’t—”
“I know the timing of my suggestion is terrible, but you’ve been left in wretched straits, and it occurs to me that you might not have anywhere to go. I’ve no qualms about where you came from or who your family is. The truth is, I simply like who you are, and I enjoy your presence in my home.” He offered a weak smile that melted my defenses. “My titled status prevents me from enduring much besides a hefty fine, and if we marry, the courts will look much more favorably upon you. Unless you find me less agreeable than the inside of a prison.”
“It isn’t that.”
“What is it, then? Have you a man already?”
I trembled at the echo of Victor’s words from months earlier, for the agonizing answer was nearly the same. And then, facing this noble gent in the dark carriage, I wept. He slid over to my seat and his arm came around me, holding me up and pulling me to his chest where I poured out my tears. I forced out a few sentences of explanation, that the man I loved was in trouble, and I had no idea if I’d ever see him again. I couldn’t bear to utter the terrible word that pervaded my mind.
Once the truth was out, he heaved a sigh and let the silence rest on us for a moment before speaking again. “Maybe one day we could make a new life together. Just know you’ve reason to hope. You’ll not be alone.”
I pushed back to look into his face and accepted his clean white handkerchief to wipe my tears. “I’m not certain I could forget about the man I love.”
“You needn’t ever forget.” His eyes were filled with great tenderness. “They both deserve to be treasured as memories, those early loves of ours, but perhaps together we can build something from the ashes.” He wiped a trace of remaining moisture from my warm cheek, his solemn, steadfast
gaze burrowing into mine.
“I’ll never be the poised and graceful woman you need.”
“Is that so? Well, I’ll tell you, what I truly need is someone who can tolerate my company, and there aren’t many women who fit that description.”
I giggled through my tears and sniffled.
“You’ve made my life better, and I’d like a chance to return the favor. Unless you have another situation you hope to pursue.”
I sank back into the shadows, looking down at my hands twisting his limp handkerchief. It broke my loyal heart to picture myself beside anyone other than the man I’d loved for so long.
It seemed my search to understand who I was would last forever, for even after discovering the core of my created being, I now had to determine all over again who I was without Sully.
36
Living out your true identity may repel plenty of people, but the ones it attracts are yours forever.
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
My second stay in prison bothered me far less than the first, even though it was longer. I languished alone in the damp cell that echoed with bangs and shuffles. The little square window set high into the wall let through the noises outside, carts and horse clops and voices ringing against the bars that separated us. I had asked about Sully at first, speaking of him to every guard who approached my cell until his name stuck in my throat, but I heard no news of him.
When I lay upon the clammy cot at night, the earl’s forlorn face came to mind, pulling at me with the overwhelming desire to go to him and draw out the flicker of light I’d seen inside. I asked myself a hundred times a day if I should have reconsidered his offer, but the question hit my brain with dull acceptance. It was over now, and the prison walls separated us.
When several days had passed in painful, mind-numbing isolation, the gruel they fed me sitting like mud in my belly, a guard banged his bobby stick against the rough wood door, startling me back to life. “Visit with the clergy.”
It was one of the few connections with other humans allowed to us. The only solution to reforming criminals was, they were convinced, total isolation. I stood, planting one palm on the moist brick of the wall to steady myself, and shuffled toward the door then creaking open. Clergy—did that mean I was being given final rites?
The grizzly face of the keeper with the shiny forehead met my blinking gaze, then behind him the somber face of Bradford, clutching a Bible. My jaw went slack, but I said nothing. My brain had forgotten how to form words, it seemed. He removed his hat to stoop into the doorway and enter my cell, which was promptly locked behind his giant form the minute he’d stepped in. I blinked at the man, waiting for him to state his purpose.
He shuffled farther in and leaned against the wall. “I’m not certain what to call you anymore.” He spoke without looking at me.
“My name is Raina. You could call me that.”
He hesitated, as if searching for the perfect scone to offer his mistress on her tea tray, angst wrinkling his brow. “I knew you weren’t a countess in the usual manner. I told you that from the start.”
The pain in his eyes intensified mine. “Back when you were the only friend I had in that place, whether or not I deserved one.”
He looked down at the book in his hand, his thumbs running along its spine. “Most of the staff is scandalized by what has happened, all except the stable master. We had a long talk, and it occurred to me that I gained nothing by resenting you, and that our friendship was not entirely unfounded.”
Hope fluttered in my chest. “Is that so?”
“Well, you see, everything I liked about who you are is still true. It was only the name I had wrong.”
Blinking back tears, I stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Bradford. You are a man among men.”
He shrugged. “The great Uncle Wells has found you blameless in this matter, my lady. I suppose we can do no less.” A gentle smile lit his face as he looked down at me. “What you have done there will not be forgotten. You’ve made an impact on Rothburne Abbey.”
He’d meant it as a compliment, I knew, but I bowed my head and pictured the crumbled ruins. If not for me, they might still be standing—for a while, at least.
“I don’t know what’s to become of us now. I suppose the abbey will be sold at a loss.”
“You’ll find new positions.”
He shook his head. “That is not likely. You see, that entire abbey is nothing but a collection of discarded things. From the old, decrepit cast-off furniture sent from London houses to all the servants who are useless to the rest of the world.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every one of us that was brought here had nowhere else to go. I am in my seventieth year, and Cook is lame in her left arm. She has to delegate most tasks. I once was a minister in the great Church of England, but whispers of scandal ended my ministry in my advanced age. All the servants are ruined women with no references, grown-up waifs pulled from the workhouses in London . . .”
I blinked, studying his wise, old face. “How can that be?”
“Few people remain out here in the country anymore as servants. Not when opportunities for harder work and more money are available in town. When the earl’s uncle remade this abbey, his wife convinced him to fill it with people who had nothing else, and that their gratitude would fuel their service.”
“She was right. No one could have found a finer, more loyal bunch of servants to staff a house.”
He sighed, tapping the cover of the book. “It was wonderful while it lasted. Now we shall have to find something else.”
“Death always leads to new life, and that will be true for the abbey. You will make it true. There are a wealth of hidden talents among the staff there, and you proved that when I needed help bringing life into those front rooms without spending a grand fortune. Perhaps it’s time to release what the abbey once was and build it into something new—give it a second chance at life.”
“No one will wish to spend money rebuilding that old relic when it looks the way it does.”
“Perhaps you don’t rebuild the ruined section. Haul it all away and make a big, glorious garden here in the center of the place. See what sort of beauty can be brought to life.”
He stared at me for long, silent moments, his tired old eyes warm and hopeful. Then a smile spread over his face like poured honey. “I do so wish you were remaining as our countess. You have a knack for bringing new life to things wherever you go, haven’t you?”
I shrugged and smiled. “I am a rag woman. It’s all I know.”
“It’s plenty.” He looked about my small cell. “I feel as though I should arrange a place for you to sit and bring you tea.”
“There’s no point in serving me, Bradford. I’m not a lady.”
He shrugged. “A habit, I suppose. It’s all I know.”
I squeezed his arm.
“I came here with a bit of news for you.”
“Oh?”
He cleared his throat, shifting his shoulders as he tried to straighten himself against the cell’s curved ceiling that was never built to hold a man of such height. “I’m honored to present you with the unofficial verdict of your trial. The most revered Prime Minister would like to offer you a choice in your future. You can remain here in Newgate, facing hard labor and the whim of whatever judge sitting at your trial, after which time you’ll be released with neither debt nor opportunity, or you may choose to sail to Western Australia as a direct charge of Lord Darlington’s and serve in the convict camps for six months’ time.”
“Australia!” I sank onto the cot in the corner. “I thought transportation had been outlawed.”
“Certainly it has, thanks in part to Uncle Wells’s work in Parliament, but all those convicts shipped there remain, many still serving sentences. The last such ship sailed over three years ago, but over a hundred thousand convicts have gone there over the years, and now they must be attended to. He’s offering for you to work i
n the penal colonies, especially with the women. They need someone who can work with them without judgment.”
“What sort of work?”
He shrugged. “Rehabilitation. A new life.”
Renaugh. Renew. The word wafted through my mind with the gentleness of a spring breeze, but it was direct. Clear.
“You’ll have a bit of time to think on it, as your trial—”
“I don’t need time.” I lifted my eyes to the servant. “I’ll go.”
He blinked his surprise. “Truly?”
I nodded as my mind spun with all the ramifications of such a decision.
He studied me, his lips drawn down. “May I ask, my lady, what is it that draws you so to the rubble, so to speak, of humanity? I’ve seen you do it time and time again. Never quite like this, though.”
I cast my gaze to the window, looking up to the thick, gray clouds barely visible through the bars. “We all bear little pieces of God’s nature in us. When I look at a person—any person—that’s what I think about. I cannot help but long to draw it out.”
His eyebrows drew together. “You’re even more than I thought you were as a countess, my lady.”
I gave a wan smile. “May I ask one favor of you, Bradford?”
He nodded his assent.
I crouched on the floor and drew out the single object that remained in my possession—my own copy of Jane Eyre. Flipping to the thirty-eighth chapter of the beloved volume, I ran my finger over the single line I desperately wished to carry out in my own life. “I know it isn’t likely, but if you should ever happen to see that second footman again, if he would come looking for me at the abbey someday, will you please give him a message and tell him where I am? It’s very important.”
His thick eyebrows ascended to his hairline. “The second . . . my, how interesting.” A smile of understanding slowly lifted his features. “I do believe dear old Mrs. May was right—Adora is a real girl. Quite a girl, at that.”
I wanted to laugh and to sob as I dipped into my story, telling him of Sully and how we passed coded messages even at the abbey, and I showed him my marked-up copy of Jane Eyre.
Finding Lady Enderly Page 29