His anger had not been at her but rather for his failed journey, but when she had refused to speak of her past, he could not temper his rage. Granted, he had promised not to ask more about her past, but there were certainly exceptions to every promise. How can two people share a carriage for so many days and not learn about one another?
Did she not realize the risk he had taken? He had allowed a simple servant girl to accompany him in his carriage, a feat that would be talked about for generations to come if the ton learned of it. Yet she refused to reveal anything about herself and then wondered why he was suspicious? It made no sense! Was anything she told him the truth? Was her name truly Amelia Parker or was that an alias? He would not be surprised if she had given him a pseudonym.
He sipped at his brandy and thought about the surname she had given and the area in which they had met. The Parker family was one of the wealthiest families in all of England, despite the fact they were not titled. Was the girl pretending to be a servant when in fact she was a relative to that family. It was possible but unlikely.
“Lord Beaumont, is that you?”
He turned to find Lord Horace Callanworth approaching him. The man was a few years older than he and had a tendency to talk for hours. Just what he needed!
Without asking permission, the man took the chair opposite Christopher. “What brings you out on a night such as this?”
“A drink,” Christopher replied, raising his glass. “Is that not why we are all here?”
“True, true,” the man replied. He removed his eyeglasses, cleaned them with a corner of his coat, and returned them to the bridge of his nose. “My Bridget is at home with her sister. Get those two women together and they will talk incessantly without seeming to take a breath. I just had to get away.”
Christopher offered the man a polite smile before emptying his glass.
“Oh, allow me to buy you another drink.” Without waiting for Christopher’s reply, he signaled the barman.
“I do not plan on drinking more,” Christopher argued. “I cannot accept.”
“Come now, man! Surely one more will do you no harm. Now, tell me, I heard a rumor that you left to get married. Is your new bride with you?”
Christopher took a calming breath and released it. “No, she is not.”
The man laughed. “Of course she is not,” he said. “She is in her new home becoming acquainted with it. My Bridget did the same after our wedding.”
As the man prattled on about every detail of his life after marrying, the barman set another glass in front of Christopher and removed the empty one.
Soon, his mind began to wander. He truly did hope Amelia had made it safe to Scarlett Hall. Yet, two hours was a long way to walk, especially in this weather. He had warned her.
Suddenly, as if he had been struck in the head, he realized that he would never see that woman again, and the idea troubled him. To never see her smile, to hear her laugh or the sweet sound of her voice left a hole in his heart that made him sit back in his chair in shock.
“You care for her greatly.”
Christopher shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your new wife,” Lord Callanworth replied. “That longing on your face is much like what I feel every time I am away from my Bridget.”
For a moment, Christopher sat there stunned. Then he smiled. “You are right,” he said as he clasped the man on the shoulder. “I do long for her. Thank you for the company, but I must go.” He could not believe that this man of all people would give Christopher such insight.
Hurrying to his room, he sat on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he considered going to Scarlett Hall to see if she had arrived safe, but even as the thought came to mind, he pushed it aside. Perhaps it was the drink, or the incessant talking of love and marriage by Lord Callanworth, but he could not have anything to do with that woman. He was the son of an earl, and she was a servant, and much like oil and water, never do they mix.
Plus, she was no different from every other woman. She would only lie and break more promises, leaving him to return to his father in shame once again. It was bad enough that he would be forced to do just that tomorrow, he did not wish to be forced to admit he had been spurned twice in one week.
Chapter Eight
The day had been a jumble of emotions for Lady Eleanor Lambert, and she massaged the small of her back as she rose from her chair behind the heavy oak desk that had once belonged to her husband. This morning, she had been at her eldest daughter’s side to welcome her first grandchild into the world. Isabel and her husband, Lord Laurence Redbrook, had insisted on naming the child after her, an honor that warmed her heart.
The happiness had been muted when, upon her return to Scarlett Hall, she had learned of the death of her very good friend Rachel. Tears still stung her eyes and pain ached in her soul as she remembered the woman who had eased her into the life in her new home all those years ago. After years of not speaking to one another — life did have a tendency to create rifts that otherwise would not appear — Rachel had shared a secret with Eleanor that had created a bond so great, it could never be broken. Now, like others in her life, Rachel was gone.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Eleanor recalled when she had first arrived in Rumsbury. She had escaped her home of Chatterly Estate to free herself of the control of her overbearing mother, who wished her to marry another man. Charles had promised her a better life, one where she would no longer be under the thumb of the tyrannical woman who saw Eleanor more as chattel than as her daughter. What she found instead was another prison.
Eleanor had been frightened all those years ago, but Rachel had been there to help her ease into her new life; until the woman had been forced to move to London. Regardless, Rachel had been beautiful, confident and a dear friend, and Eleanor would never forget her.
Finishing an entry in her journal, Eleanor returned the quill to its holder and the book to its hiding place and left the room. As she neared the foyer, her heart lurched when a knock came to the door.
For a moment, she paused. She expected no visitors, and anyone calling this late at night never came bearing good news.
With a sigh, she gathered her wrap and went to the door. A figure stood huddled in a dark tattered overcoat filled with holes and covered with snow. With a scarf wrapped around the person’s head, Eleanor could not make out if it was a man or a woman.
“Yes?” Eleanor asked. “May I help you?” She looked past the figure and peered out into the night. No horse or carriage sat in the drive. “Who are you?”
The figure raised its head. “Aunt Eleanor?” she whispered.
Eleanor gasped upon seeing the face she had seen only once — at her childhood home of Chatterly Estate. “Amelia?” she asked her sister’s daughter. The girl was nearly eighteen and traveling alone? “What are you doing here?”
“Mother sent me with a warning,” she said, her teeth chattering as she handed Eleanor a letter. “There is trouble coming. Great Trouble.”
Eleanor ushered the girl into the house. “Where is your mother?”
“She remained at Chatterly Estate,” Amelia replied as Eleanor helped her remove her wrappings. “She wished to remain behind because she believes that Grandmother and Uncle Josiah can be saved. I have much I must tell you, but mother said it was imperative I give you this.”
Eleanor took the small journal her niece offered her, her curiosity piqued.
“Mother said that, if I came to your house, you would look after me. I can clean or cook or whatever you wish me to do in return.”
Amelia was so like what Eleanor remembered about her younger sister, during a time when they had an affection for one another. “You are not a servant,” she said, tears brimming her eyes. “You are my niece and are welcome to stay as long as you wish. Servants work to earn an income, which includes their food and lodging, but you are family. Family is not required to work in order to live here.” She pulled the girl in for a hug.
“Thank you,” Amelia mumbled into Eleanor’s breast. “I am happy to be here at last.”
Eleanor smiled and brushed back the girl’s dark hair. “We have much to discuss. Are you hungry?”
“I am,” Amelia replied.
The butler peered into the foyer, and Eleanor chuckled. “Forbes, this is my niece, Miss Amelia Parker, daughter of my sister Emmeline. I believe I have mentioned her before.”
“Indeed, you have, my lady,” he replied.
“Well, she will be staying with us awhile.”
Forbes gave Amelia a bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Amelia. Welcome to Scarlett Hall. If you are in need of anything, please feel free to ask. I am here to serve.”
Eleanor placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders and glanced at Forbes. “Please send a tray with something to eat and drink to the drawing room.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Eleanor led her niece to the drawing room. Embers glowed in the fireplace, and she placed a log over the coals. Then she walked over to the array of liquor decanters. “A bit of sherry will warm you right up,” she said as she placed the journal the girl had given her on a small table. She would see to it later when she was alone, but for now she would read the letter.
Handing Amelia the sherry, Eleanor sat beside the girl on the sofa and unfolded the parchment with nervous fingers.
My dearest Eleanor,
Much is happening at Chatterly Estate, but to tell it all would take many volumes and more time than I have. There are secrets, dangerous secrets that not only concern Chatterly Estate but Scarlett Hall, as well. I sent with Amelia a journal, which belongs to Mother, and she is to give it to you. I admit I stole it, but without reservation, for in it are secrets of which you should be aware.
Danger is headed your way, for Josiah, our own brother, means to bring harm to you and your home. I learned two nights ago what he intends, but I do not know when he means to carry out his plan. You must be vigilant, Eleanor, for Josiah is eviler than you can ever imagine. Our once loving brother is gone forever.
Please, keep Amelia safe and help her move on to the next stage in her life. I am sad not to be present during this important time, but it is my hope that Mother will see the error of her ways before she dies. Whether or not I am successful remains to be seen, but I will never lose my faith that it will be so.
Your loving sister,
Emmeline Parker
Folding the letter, Eleanor placed it beside the journal just as Forbes entered the room carrying a silver tray laden with cold meats, bread, dried fruit and tea. As he poured the tea, Eleanor thought of the letter. She would read the journal tonight, but for now she wished to speak to her niece.
When Forbes was gone, she turned to study Amelia, who had begun eating. Despite her impecunious appearance, the girl had a polished bearing about her that rivaled any young woman of the ton, as if she had attended the finest finishing school.
“You have fine manners,” Eleanor said. “I do not mean to be rude, but when I met you, you were but a servant, and yet you have the training of a lady.”
Amelia nodded as if she would have expected no other description of her. “Since I was little, Mother taught me how to read and write, but she wanted me to have skills other servants did not. She taught me etiquette as well as conversational skills. My dress may be made of burlap, but I am very much a lady in every other sense.”
Eleanor nodded. This girl held herself with pride and elegance that would have pleased any finishing school matron. “You are, indeed,” she said with a smile. “We must see to a new wardrobe, first of all. But until then, I believe I can find a few dresses that will be much more appropriate than what you are wearing now.
“You are kind to allow me into your home. Mother said that, out of the three of you, you were the kindest and you had the greatest strength.”
“That is a very solicitous thing for your mother to say,” Eleanor said, “but it appears that, by you being here, her strength should be noted, as well.”
Amelia pursed her lips for a moment. “The danger of which Mother spoke. May I ask what it concerns?”
“At this moment, I do not know,” Eleanor replied. “It seems that it has to do with your Uncle Josiah. Do you know him?”
Amelia shook her head. “No. Or rather, I know who he is, but he never looks at me or speaks to me whenever he is at Chatterly Estate. He will do whatever Grandmother wishes, that I do know for certain.”
Eleanor took the journal and turned it over in her hands. “That is what concerns me,” she said. Then she dropped the book in her lap with a light thump. “But that does not matter. You are here now, safe and sound, and no one will harm you while you are at Scarlett Hall.” The smile Amelia offered gave Eleanor the impression the girl did not believe her words. “Did someone already attempt to bring you harm?” she asked, fearful of what she would learn.
Amelia nodded. “Grandmother sent two men to search for me, but I was able to escape.”
Eleanor nodded. With her father’s fortune, her mother’s reach was far, so to learn that men were sent to return her niece to Chatterly Estate did not surprise her in the least. “Tell me what happened,” she said as she settled into the cushions to hear the girl’s story.
***
Aunt Eleanor did not ask questions as Amelia told her story. She began with how she left Chatterly Estate, of the two men from which she escaped, and that she had acquired passage to Rumsbury. She made no mention of Lord Beaumont, for she feared what her aunt would say concerning her choice to travel alone with a gentleman, even if they kept to propriety. Plus, she had not forgotten her blunder in mentioning not only her real name but her destination, as well.
“Grandmother was very strict,” Amelia said when the conversation turned back to her life at Chatterly Estate. “Once she locked me in my room for two days without food or water because I had broken a glass. It was as if anything could stoke her ire.” She shook the thoughts from her mind. “In all that, Mother never gave up hope. She believes good will triumph.”
“Perhaps it will,” Aunt Eleanor said. “Still, it unsettles me that all these years I knew nothing of how you and Emmeline lived.” She clicked her tongue. “That you even existed!” She gave a heavy sigh. “I wish you would have come with me when I was there, but your mother has always been stubborn.” Her smile said she was teasing, but Amelia was too tired to laugh.
“The fault is not yours, Aunt Eleanor. If you did not know I existed until you called on Grandmother last spring, how can you be held accountable? Mother also told me what happened the night you left to marry Lord Lambert, how cruel Grandmother was toward you. You endured her wrath as much as Mother and I have.”
Her aunt said nothing but instead rose from her seat. “You are exhausted. Come. Let me show you to your room. It belonged to my daughter Juliet.”
Amelia stopped. “Juliet?” Could it be the very same woman the man on horseback had thought Amelia was?
“What is it?” her aunt asked. “You have grown quite pale.”
Not wishing to alarm the woman or worry her, Amelia shook her head. “I am tired is all.”
“Are you certain that is all?”
Amelia nodded. She followed her aunt down the hallway and back to the foyer. The house was grander than she could have imagined, and when they arrived at the room that was to be hers, she could do nothing more than gape in amazement.
A large four-poster bed with white curtains seemed almost as large as the room she shared with her mother back home. There was a vanity table — she had never had a vanity table before! — and a wardrobe. She walked up to the bed and felt the mattress. It was softer than any bed she had ever seen. Her grandmother had always insisted that mattresses be hard.
“A too-soft mattress damages one’s back,” she was wont to say. “A good, sturdy mattress sees that one’s posture remains straight.” If it was up to the woman, everyone would slumber on a board.
; “Get some sleep,” her aunt said, “and tomorrow we will talk and learn more about one another.”
Amelia smiled as her aunt leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Do not worry about your mother. She will be safe, as will you. No one will ever hurt you again.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said.
After her aunt left the room, Amelia sighed and walked over to the window. Snow continued to accumulate on the sill, and she leaned against the frame to watch the flakes fall. Although her aunt told her not to worry, Amelia could not help but be concerned. Her Grandmother would see her mother punished for allowing Amelia to leave, and who could say what choice in punishment she would make.
No, she could not allow her mind to focus on that over which she had no control. Her worries would do nothing to help her mother, so she pushed them to the back of her mind. Unfortunately, that only allowed thoughts of Lord Beaumont to take their place.
Their journey had begun well enough. He had been pleasant company and quite gallant at first, and he had to be the handsomest man she had ever seen.
Sadly, he had proven himself a cad, and his handsome looks could not make her happy on their own. Yet, she could not help but wish she could see him again, which only confused her. How could someone find another’s company irritating and yet wish to see him again? It made little sense to her. Perhaps once she had a good night’s sleep she would see things in a much clearer light.
One thing was certain; no matter that she was a Parker, she had led the life of a servant and was a bastard to boot. Two legitimate reasons no gentleman would have her.
As she lay in bed, however, her eyes heavy, her last thoughts were of Lord Beaumont and what he truly thought of her.
Chapter Nine
Christopher arrived at his home of Stormridge Manor the following morning. He could not put off seeing his father another day, although he would have preferred to remain at the inn indefinitely if he did not have to face his father’s disappointment yet again.
Vows of Honor: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 6 Page 6