Vows of Honor: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 6

by Jennifer Monroe

  By all outright appearances, Scarlett Hall stands strong, but the secrets contained within its walls could bring down its foundation in a single breath. If one knows a secret, she must keep it to herself lest she ruin her family’s name forever.

  What a cryptic piece of writing! However, what the author of this writing said was very much the truth, for Amelia also had secrets she hoped never to disclose. She had overheard a particular conversation, one that, in a way, concerned her Aunt Eleanor, but she had kept it close to her heart for many years. The fact was that it had occurred much too long ago, and mentioning it now would only bring shame that need not be revealed.

  Shoving the memory from her mind, she collected the items and returned them to their place under the floorboard. “Secrets are meant to be hidden,” she mumbled as she replaced the board, pushing it firmly into place. “Whether it be under the floor or in one’s heart.”

  She returned to bed and pulled the covers to her chin. Memories of her mother came to mind followed by thoughts of her life thus far at Scarlett Hall. Although she was met with an unsettling feeling, an image of Christopher appeared, quelling her worries enough to allow her to fall into a restful sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following days passed excruciatingly slow. Amelia had attempted to do embroidery to pass the time but soon grew bored of the task. How did ladies spend hours on something so tedious? She had never been deft with a needle, although her mother had taught her to sew. The truth was she was rarely called to use such a skill and therefore had little practice. Or much patience.

  Her poor aunt had nearly fainted when she caught Amelia cleaning her own room one day. Yet, Amelia could not help herself. She kept her room tidy enough as it was, so why trouble the maids with another task that did not need doing? That had been her way of thinking, anyway.

  Now she sat in the library, but rather than reading, she thought about her mother. Was the woman safe? Aunt Eleanor believed she was, but Amelia had her doubts. Even if she was safe, would her mother be able to convince her grandmother to change her ways? Another doubt Amelia had.

  Sighing, she set aside the unread book and looked up as her aunt entered the room.

  “The servants will be gone today,” Aunt Eleanor said. “I would like to get some fresh air. Would you care to join me in a walk through the gardens?”

  “That would be lovely,” Amelia said, rising from her chair. “The sun is out, so it should not be too cool.”

  They donned their coats, and Amelia ran a hand along the sleeve.

  “Are you thinking of the coat in which you arrived?”

  “How did you know?” Amelia asked.

  “I can see it in your eyes,” her aunt replied. “Well, I stored it away for you.”

  Amelia looked at her aunt in surprise. “I thought you would have burned it. It was well worn and beyond repair.”

  Aunt Eleanor smiled as she opened the door, and Amelia followed her out to the portico. “You see, many events in our past change the course of our lives. The decisions we make, or those made for us, can seem either good or bad. The truth is, both good and bad exist in every choice, but one is more prevalent than the other. At times, we may be forced to look at an event, to examine it, to find the good hidden beneath the bad as a way to heal from what we endured. Your coat is a visual representation of your former life. By keeping it, you give yourself the opportunity to reflect, if you find you need to do so. Once you have found what you need, then is when you, not I, will rid yourself of the coat, if you choose to do so.”

  Amelia drew in a deep breath. A slight chill hung in the air. “Are you speaking of my life as a servant and how I came to leave it?”

  Her aunt entwined her arm in Amelia’s, and the two descended the steps. “I am, or that is part of it. Although the coat is worn, it accompanied you to many places. It was with you when you laughed and I imagined when you cried, as well.”

  Amelia let out a small laugh. “It is true,” she said. “I wore it on my journey here, and I experienced a variety of emotions on that journey.”

  “Your life thus far has been different than what it should have been. The past is behind you and cannot be changed. Before you lies your future, and it is yet to come. You must focus on the present, for that is the only time which you have control over.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Amelia said. Then she sighed. “My problem at the present is that I cannot help but worry about Mother. What if she is in trouble? I can do nothing to help her from here.” She shook her head in frustration. “I do not know what to do.”

  They stopped at a low fence that looked over rolling hills, the green long since faded. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, threatening another storm. She was weary of the wretched weather, but at least it was not as terrible as that of Stratford. Too many days Amelia had been forced to complete her tasks wrapped in a shawl to keep her warm — her grandmother did not like to light the fires in rooms she, herself, did not personally enter. That left many rooms used by the servants chilled.

  Her aunt smiled at her. “Did your mother not give you specific instructions when you left?”

  Amelia nodded. “She said I was to find happiness no matter what happened along the way.”

  “She was correct,” her aunt said. “You should not worry about her. Your mother is a strong woman, and I have no doubt she will be with you again soon.”

  Amelia considered her aunt’s words and nodded. “Mother is steadfast in her beliefs and would not send me away on my own if she feared for my safety. Or if I would be less safe than if I remained at Chatterly Estate.” The more Amelia considered this, the better she felt. “I will honor her wishes and find happiness.” Then she giggled. “Although I may have already found it with Christopher.” She clamped her mouth shut. Had she just admitted that aloud to her aunt?

  Aunt Eleanor chuckled. “I see the man has become more than a friend. Would you then consider him a man of great interest?”

  “I do not know about him being a great interest,” Amelia said. “But yes, I do like the man despite some of his off-putting ways.”

  “Oh? And what ways do you find off-putting? Has he said or done something in particular?”

  Amelia sighed and turned to face her aunt. “He asked for my hand in marriage for his father’s benefit, but I refused him. I could not accept such a proposal for such a reason.”

  Aunt Eleanor gave her an appreciative nod. “That is a good reason to refuse,” she said. “It is far too early to speak of marriage, anyway.”

  “I agree,” Amelia replied. “I am worried, however. Why is it that men wish to marry us, but believe riches are the way to our heart? Do they not see we desire more?”

  “I will not lie to you,” her aunt replied. “Sadly, many men do not understand such matters. It does not help that many continue to follow the old customs and bring up their daughters to search out men for what they, themselves, are able to gain. Nonetheless, there is hope, for some men are finding they prefer love to a marriage of convenience, although they are still few as of yet. You said he proposed in order to appease his father, correct?” Amelia nodded. “And when you refused him, he still wished to call on you?”

  Amelia nodded again. “Yes. He was not angry as I had expected, but rather more disappointed. I worry that he will only ever see me as a thing he can purchase.”

  Her aunt patted her arm. “Give him time. He is under a great deal of stress. Do not think of marriage, or even courting, but instead enjoy the time with him when he calls. At the very least, you will have good conversation.”

  Amelia laughed. “I suppose so,” she replied. “I shall think no more of the past for the time being and focus on the present.”

  “Good,” her aunt said as she pulled Amelia in for an embrace. “Now, the servants are gone for the day, and the house is ours. Mrs. Newsome left us a platter of cold meats and bread. Perhaps a drink with our food is in order to celebrate the happy days that lie ahead.”

>   “That sounds lovely,” Amelia replied.

  Then her heart seized with fear when another voice came to her ears, one she had hoped to never hear again.

  “I believe we could all use a drink.”

  ***

  Amelia’s legs weakened at the sight of her Uncle Josiah. His overcoat was as black as his hair — and she dared to believe, as black as his soul. Whatever her mother thought, this man could never be saved. Even the storm clouds moved in faster as to collect around him.

  “Josiah,” her aunt said in a tone that maintained an iciness that contradicted the smile that accompanied it, “it has been many years.”

  “That it has, Eleanor,” he said, his dark eyes showing no emotion. He turned to Amelia. “Someone has upset Mother again.”

  Aunt Eleanor placed herself between Amelia and Uncle Josiah. “Amelia is to remain here,” she said in a threatening tone. “You will not take her away today, nor at any other time.”

  Uncle Josiah laughed just as the first drops of rain fell upon them. Perhaps he did control the weather! “And who will stop me? You? I have no qualms about striking you down.”

  Rather than shrinking away from the threat, Aunt Eleanor pulled herself to her full height, which was only to her brother’s shoulder. “You may try, and even succeed, but I will fight you every step of the way.”

  He took a step closer, his face pinched with anger. Amelia could not stand the thought of her aunt being struck by this man. She pushed past the woman and placed hands on her hips in defiance. “Then you will be forced to fight us both!” she said, drawing courage from Aunt Eleanor. “I will not allow you to hurt her.”

  “Hurt my own sister?” he said in mock shock. “I think not. Do you truly believe I am capable of such a thing?”

  For a moment, a memory from ten years earlier popped into Amelia’s mind. She had witnessed what this man could do if he so chose.

  Her eyes must have betrayed her thoughts, for her uncle sneered at her. “Your aunt is right,” he growled. “I did not come here today to take you with me.”

  Amelia narrowed her eyes. “You are lying. I am sure of it.”

  Her uncle sighed as if saddened by her words. “Again, your accusations against my name are unfounded.” He reached into his coat pocket and produced a piece of parchment. “For you, Eleanor,” he said as he placed it in the woman’s hand.

  Aunt Eleanor eyed the paper suspiciously before unfolding it. As she read silently, her eyes widened. “No!” she whispered. “This cannot be.” She looked up at him. “Ten pounds?”

  Uncle Josiah laughed. “And forty percent of that is four pounds.” He reached into his pocket and removed a handful of coins. As he handed them to her aunt, he eyed Amelia. “Your Uncle Charles was a business associate of mine,” he explained as if she had asked. “Your aunt never knew.”

  “What does he mean?” Amelia asked her aunt. When the woman did not respond, she spun about to glare at her uncle. “What did you do to her?”

  “Scarlett Hall once owned a portion of a mining company belonging to our family, forty percent to be exact.” His voice had an underlining tone of amusement. “I decided I no longer have any interest in mining, so I sold the company. Ten pounds was more than a reasonable price.”

  Aunt Eleanor gave her brother a sad look. “Why would you do this?” she asked. “You were once such a sweet boy who loved others. Do you not remember?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I remember you defying Mother,” he growled. “She had arranged a profitable marriage for you, just as she did for Emmeline.” He turned accusing eyes on Amelia. “And just as she did for her bastard granddaughter. Do you know what lengths my mother went to in order to find a man willing to believe the past she had developed for you?”

  “The girl is innocent,” Aunt Eleanor said, her voice sharp. “Do not take your anger out on her.”

  Uncle Josiah snorted. “I would never hurt my niece. Only you. I hold majority for many more businesses that bring you money, Eleanor. One by one I shall sell them off for a pittance. When the last is gone, I will then turn to those in power and find other ways to destroy you. Mark my words.”

  “No!” Amelia cried. “You cannot do this. What do you want? Is it me?”

  The way her uncle glared at her told her what she had feared. He would bring ruin to her aunt if Amelia did not return to Chatterly Estate.

  “I am not as evil as you believe me to be,” he said with a grin that belied his words. “I will be staying at the Rumsbury Inn for the next month. And to prove how solicitous I am, you have thirty days to decide. Although why you would wait that long is beyond me.”

  He turned to Aunt Eleanor. “If she is not presented to me by then, I will begin selling off the companies in which your husband invested every week until they are gone. By the time I am done, you will have so few holdings, your entire household will lie in ruin.”

  Amelia turned to her aunt. “I will leave with him today,” she said quietly.

  Her aunt, however, raised a hand. “I will not give her to you,” the woman said, ignoring Amelia’s offer.

  “Thirty days, Eleanor,” Uncle Josiah said, that amusement back in his tone. “See that the girl is ready to leave by then or deal with the consequences.” Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door.

  “You will not have her, Josiah,” Aunt Eleanor called after him. “I will not give her up no matter what you do.”

  “We shall see,” he said without so much as turning to look over his shoulder.

  Amelia had never seen such bravery! She ran to her aunt and was shocked to see tears brimming her eyes.

  “My own brother,” her aunt whispered. “How can he be so set on hurting you, or me, his sister?”

  Amelia placed an arm around her aunt’s shoulders. She understood knowing secrets that could bring down someone that she should have loved. It plagued the soul and weakened one’s resolve. “Come, Aunt Eleanor,” she said. “Let us get that drink you mentioned before he arrived and think of the happy future of which you spoke.”

  Yet, even as she said the words, she wondered if there was any truth left in them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The storm had left as quickly as it had arrived, and an unseasonably warmth filled the air the two days following the appearance of Uncle Josiah. Despite her aunt’s assurances, Amelia’s dreams were filled with visions of her being thrown tied and gagged over the saddle of a horse as he carried her away to Chatterly Estate.

  During the day, however, she was able to push away those images, and today she was all the more successful in doing so.

  Across from her sat Christopher, who had arrived not ten minutes ago. Her aunt, acting as chaperon, sat beside Amelia on the sofa in the drawing room, the fireplace empty due to the unusual weather.

  “I was surprised at how smooth my journey here was,” Christopher said. “I expected many more ruts after that last storm.”

  The man was clearly struggling to make conversation, but she suspected he had something on his mind that was impeding his thoughts. Perhaps it had something to do with Aunt Eleanor being in attendance that he did not speak what was on his mind.

  That is just plain silly, she thought. What good did it do her to guess his thoughts? That was how misunderstandings happened.

  Taking a sip of her tea, she studied the man through her eyelashes. Oh, but he was handsome! A warming came over her as she thought about what his arms were like beneath his coat. It was a terrible thought, for ladies did not think of gentlemen bereft of clothing.

  That only made her cheeks heat all the more. Bereft of clothing, indeed! She was no hussy to wonder about such things!

  Setting her cup on the table, she brought forth a new thought, one far more proper. “And your father?” she asked. “How is his health?”

  He gave her an appreciative nod. “At times it appears he is improving and then it quickly returns to flailing.” He shook his head. “My sister believes the man to be simply
stubborn and that he will fight until the end. I must admit that I agree with her.”

  The door opened, and Forbes entered the room. “Forgive my interruption,” he said in that stanch tone he used at times, “but you have a guest at the door.”

  Fear coursed through Amelia. Had her uncle returned already? The fact that Forbes had left the caller at the door said it was not a welcomed call.

  Aunt Eleanor stood. “If you will excuse me a moment,” she said with a light nod to Christopher. “I will return shortly.”

  Christopher rose and bowed. “Of course, my lady.” When she was gone, he turned to Amelia. “Are you well? You seem suddenly rather pale.”

  Amelia forced a smile. “Yes. I believe the sudden changes in weather affect me more than I realize.” The excuse was thin, but if he did not believe it, he gave no indication. She wished she could be forthcoming about her uncle, but that would not be prudent.

  He leaned forward and glanced at the door. “I must tell you something,” he said. “It is concerning my question the last time we spoke.”

  “I understand why you asked,” Amelia replied, not wishing to relive that experience again.

  Christopher, however, had no such objection. “I appreciate you saying so, but I do not ask your forgiveness. You see, you were kind enough to return to call on my father. My question was unwarranted, and I suspect it made you feel awkward.”

  Awkward? That word did not begin to describe how it made her feel. Rather than saying this, however, she simply nodded.

  “You must know that I will not ask you again.”

  This surprised, and for some reason saddened, Amelia. She had no idea how to feel about his admission.

  “You are not angry with me, are you?” His tone had a sense of urgency behind it.