A New Life (West Meets East Book 1)

by Merry Farmer

  A NEW LIFE

  MERRY FARMER

  A NEW LIFE

  Copyright ©2017 by Merry Farmer

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your digital retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill (the miracle-worker)

  ASIN: B073P7TZQF

  Paperback:

  ISBN-13: 9781548577261

  ISBN-10: 154857726X

  Click here for a complete list of other works by Merry Farmer.

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  Created with Vellum

  For Jess,

  Who found her way out and started over

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  SOUTH COAST OF CORNWALL – 1877

  C ornwall, England was not Haskell, Wyoming. It was a simple, obvious thought, but as the carriage that her new employer, Lord Peter deVere, Earl of Dunsford, had hired to take her to her new home rattled over winding roads with a view of the sea, that was all Millie Horner could think to herself.

  “This is very different than Wyoming,” she whispered out the window to the stretching shadows of evening.

  Where Wyoming had been vast and flat, with stretching prairie and blowing tumbleweeds, Cornwall was green and rolling. Rocky crags reached out into the blue-grey waters of the sea, tipped with flashes of sunlight that looked like diamonds on the waves. Farther inland were rippling fields dotted with surprising clusters of boulders. Throughout her entire train journey from Portsmouth—the place where the ship that had carried her across the Atlantic had docked at journey’s end—Millie’s eyes had been glued to the lush landscape.

  “It feels like I’ve crossed into a fairyland,” she went on whispering, placing her fingertips on the carriage’s glass.

  Her companion and protector for the journey laughed. “You might be going to live in a castle, but as a servant, I doubt very much it will feel like a fairytale.”

  Millie twisted to send Ram a bashful smile. She didn’t quite know what to make of the brown-skinned man who had met her as she disembarked from her ship. Ram Singh was a lascar, which, she had learned, meant he was from India, but had made a new life for himself as a sailor, first in the British navy, but now with the merchant marines. He was employed by Captain Tennant, an associate of Theophilus Gunn, who, along with Elspeth Strong, was responsible for finding positions in England for any and all of Bonnie’s girls who wanted to get as far away from their old lives as possible. Because of that, because Ram too knew what it was like to travel halfway across the world to start over, Millie trusted him.

  “It is a fairytale,” she insisted, glancing out over the Cornish countryside once more. “Even if I am to be a servant. I’d rather be a maid than a whore any day.”

  She gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth as she said it. Her eyes went round. She wasn’t supposed to let on to anyone what she’d been in her former life. Part of the understanding she had with Bonnie and Mr. Gunn was that she would never go back to her old way of life, she would never so much as mention the horrors and heartbreak of her past. One day in her new life, and she had already let the cat out of the bag.

  Ram didn’t seem surprised. “Don’t worry,” he said in his melodious voice. “Mr. Gunn let me in on the secret, and I won’t tell. I won’t ever mention it again.”

  “Thank you.” Millie glanced back to him, lowering her eyes. “That means everything to me. Life in Wyoming was so….” She paused and swallowed. “I didn’t choose that life. I was pushed into it. Bonnie gave me the choice to get out of it and start over. I don’t care how many rooms I have to clean or how hard I have to work, as long as I don’t have to….” She stopped again, cheeks burning, and nodded, hoping Ram would understand.

  Ram smiled at her, then glanced past her out the window. “We’ve arrived. Welcome to Starcross Castle.”

  Millie turned back to the window and gasped at the sight that met her. They’d reached an ancient gate set in a weathered stone wall. A long drive extended from there up to a castle. An honest to goodness castle. It had two tall, round towers and fancy, arched windows and everything. At the same time, parts of it looked modern too—the large front door and the glass in the windows. It was almost as if someone had used the structure of an old castle to build a new house, or had built the castle more recently in a style to make it look much older. Bushes and flowers were arranged perfectly in the garden that took up the space between the gate and the front door.

  The carriage rocked to a stop, and the driver called down to them in a muffled voice, “This is as far as I can go. You’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”

  Millie accepted that answer and opened the carriage door. She hopped down before Ram could scramble out the other side and come around to help her. She didn’t need help, not really. In the American West, she’d ridden her own horse, gotten herself in and out of wagons, and even scrambled around mining carts where she’d grown up near the silver mine in Colorado, where her father had worked.

  Her father. She shuddered at the dark memories, then pushed him aside before he could drag her down. He was in his grave now, thousands of miles away, and she was at the threshold of a whole new life.

  Ram collected her small trunk from the back of the carriage and brought it around to Millie. “Do you need me to carry this up to the castle for you, princess?” he asked with a teasing smile.

  Millie laughed and shook her head. “No, I can carry it. There’s not much in there.”

  Ram nodded and handed the trunk over. Millie took it by the handle, holding it to her side like a large, square carpetbag. “If there’s nothing else you need, then, I’ll be heading back to London.”

  “Not Portsmouth?” Millie asked.

  “Not this time. I’m to meet a friend of yours, Miss Clara Partridge, who should be arriving in a month’s time.”

  Millie brightened. “I’m so glad Mr. Gunn and Mrs. Strong were able to find a position for Clara. She never did fit in at Bonnie’s Place. She never really fit in anywhere.”

  “I’m sure she’ll fit in over here.” Ram nodded and swung himself up into the carriage. “Any messages for her?”

  Millie shrugged. “Just tell her that I wish her luck, and if she ever needs me, to come and find me. Oh, and if you have an address where I can write to her, I’d be happy to have that.”

  Ram touched his forehead and smiled. “I’ll send it along to you as soon as I know it, Miss Horner.” He knocked on the roof of the carriage and, within seconds, the driver pulled away.

  Millie took in a deep breath before turning to the gate and the castle beyond. Miss Millie Horner. It wasn’t the name she was born with, but it was her name now. She’d taken on
a whole new name to separate herself completely from her old life. Now here she was, in England, so far away from the tragedy of who she’d been that it hardly seemed real.

  She gripped her trunk tighter and walked through the gate and up the drive to the castle. How blessed she was to be given this chance of a lifetime to start over! She’d been thanking Mr. Gunn and Mrs. Strong and Bonnie herself every night in her prayers, and she would have to start thanking Lord Peter deVere for being willing to employ her too. As she climbed the stairs to the castle’s huge front door, she made a promise, to him, to everyone who had helped her, and to herself, to become the best person she could be.

  She knocked on the door, then stepped back, holding her breath and waiting for her new life to begin. After several painfully long seconds, the door creaked and swung open. A tall, middle-aged man with a long face appeared, looking down his nose at her. He wore a suit that was finer than the finest Sunday suit her father had ever owned.

  “Yes?” he said in a deep, somewhat frightening voice.

  “I-I’m Millie Horner,” Millie told him, feeling as small as a child. “I’m the new maid, from America.”

  The tall man continued to look down at her. He sniffed. “Servants never use the front door,” he said. “The servant’s entrance is around back.”

  “O-oh.” Millie lowered her head, cheeks blazing with heat. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know, my lord.” She glanced up at him, terrified.

  Something in the man’s face softened, and he cleared his throat. “I am the butler, Mr. Snyder.”

  Millie’s embarrassment made her even hotter. “I’m so sorry,” she said, only managing a whisper.

  “There, there, girl,” Mr. Snyder said. “It’s quite all right. You’re American. We must make allowances for these things. Now hurry along ’round the back. I’ll let Mrs. Wilson, the housekeeper, know you’re coming.”

  Millie nodded quickly and tightened her grip on her trunk before hurrying away from the door and around the castle in the direction Mr. Snyder pointed. On the one hand, she wondered why she couldn’t simply walk through the front door to make things simpler. On the other, her stomach tied itself in knots, knowing that the first thing she’d done in her new position was to make a mistake.

  She was close to trembling by the time she worked her way around to the back of the building, searching for anything that could be a servant’s entrance. There were plenty of windows in the castle and one or two fancy, French doors that led out into gardens. She doubted servants entered through the gardens, though.

  At last, she came to a wall that separated the garden from a cobblestone courtyard. Just as she stepped through the serviceable archway, a small, unassuming door opened, and a short, rather round woman with grey hair stepped out.

  “There you are,” the woman said, waving for Millie to come to her. “We’ve been waiting for you these many hours now.” She had a strange way of talking, a strange accent that Millie had never heard before. It put her instantly on edge.

  “I’m so sorry,” she repeated the apology she’d given to Mr. Snyder. “The train was behind schedule, and the carriage was late.”

  “Never mind that now,” the woman said. “Dinner is over and done, and everyone is buzzing about, setting things to right for the night.” Millie reached the door and crossed into the bustling, noisy, somewhat steamy world of the kitchen. “I’m Mrs. Wilson,” the woman said, whisking her straight on and down a narrow corridor.

  Millie had only a fleeting glimpse of a pair of young maids in drab, grey dresses as they scrubbed pots and pans in steaming water. An older woman in plain clothes was busy at the other side of the room, working at a counter that seemed to be piled with food. Before she could see more, a boy who couldn’t have been older than ten dashed past her with a slopping bucket. Millie had to pull her trunk out of his way to avoid a collision.

  “Watch where you’re going Tim,” Mrs. Wilson called to him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tim called back, darting out to the courtyard.

  Mrs. Wilson muttered something under her breath, then turned a corner into a small, tidy room with a desk and two cabinets. “This is my office,” she said with a curt gesture. “You can leave your trunk here while we go to see his lordship.”

  “His lordship?” Millie squeaked.

  Mrs. Wilson didn’t give her time to do more than set her trunk down before marching on. “Yes. Lord Dunsford asked that you be brought to meet him as soon as you arrive, and seeing as that was supposed to be hours ago….”

  “Oh.” The single syllable sounded weak to Millie’s ears, but she soldiered on, walking just behind Mrs. Wilson. The housekeeper appeared to be a formidable woman—like Bonnie, only stricter and dressed in serviceable black instead of Bonnie’s bright and fashionable attire—and she walked through the downstairs corridor with her back straight.

  Millie barely had time to look around at what seemed to be a series of workrooms and pantries before they reached a plain staircase and started up.

  “The servants’ quarters are up that way,” she said pausing on the first landing beside a door. “You’ll be rooming with Ginny, top floor, third door on the right. Ginny will show you your duties, starting first thing tomorrow.”

  That was all the explanation Mrs. Wilson gave. She proceeded through the door into what appeared to be a room-sized closet, then through the other side into a whole new world.

  Millie had never seen a house so fine or so large. Howard Haskell’s grand house at Paradise Ranch seemed like a clapboard cottage compared to Starcross Castle. The closet room opened into a hallway that led out into a hall with impossibly high ceilings, a magnificent staircase, and the most beautiful furnishings and artwork Millie had ever seen. At least half a dozen rooms and two other hallways branched off from the central hall. She caught glimpses of grandeur beyond her imagination in the evening light.

  They turned right and headed down one of the side halls. Millie would have loved to stop and explore each room they came across, to marvel at the magnificence that now surrounded her. Mrs. Wilson was on a mission, though. She marched on with quick steps, at least until they neared the end of the hall.

  “Now, do not be alarmed at his lordship’s appearance,” she said, stopping suddenly before an oak door. A hint of pity came to her eyes. “He has recently been widowed.”

  “Yes,” Millie whispered. “Mr. Gunn told me as much. His wife died in childbirth?”

  Mrs. Wilson shook her head, looking sad. “She never made it that far, God rest her. Her ladyship suffered through more than a dozen miscarriages. This last one was—” She stopped abruptly and shook her head. “These are not proper things for servants to gossip about. We pray for her ladyship’s soul and that is all. I was simply telling you so that you would not be shocked or overreact at the sight of his lordship.”

  “No, ma’am.” Millie shook her head solemnly.

  Mrs. Wilson stood straighter and glanced down her nose at Millie in a way that reminded her of Mr. Snyder. It wasn’t an unkind look—in fact, it might have been approving—but it made Millie feel small and nervous.

  Mrs. Wilson knocked on the door, then waited until a tired voice called, “Come in.”

  Millie held her breath as she and Mrs. Wilson stepped into what turned out to be a study. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of shelf after shelf of books lining the walls. Two huge windows stood at the far end of the room with their curtains half drawn. A large fireplace took up the middle of one wall, a pair of chairs arranged in front of it. The other side of the room held the biggest desk Millie had ever seen. And seated behind it was the saddest, most worn looking man she could imagine.

  He had hair so grey it was almost white, but he didn’t look as though he could be that old. The lines that creased his face seemed to be more from care and worry than age, but they were many. Even from across the room, she could tell that his blue eyes were full of sorrow and regret.

  “Is this our new maid fr
om America?” he asked, smiling a little and getting up from his desk as Mrs. Wilson brought Millie deeper into the room.

  “Yes, your lordship,” Mrs. Wilson said, pausing to curtsy. Millie imitated her. “This is Miss Millie Horner.”

  Lord Dunsford’s smile grew a little, which somehow made him look sadder, as he stepped forward to meet Millie. “Welcome to Starcross Castle.”

  “Uh…th-thank you, your lordship,” Millie fumbled. They didn’t have lords or ladies in Wyoming, and she had no idea how you were supposed to greet one, especially when he was your new employer.

  Lord Dunsford wasn’t the only person in the room. A younger man with a sharp face and narrowed eyes stood to one side of the desk, looking angry about something. He bore a resemblance to Lord Dunsford, but whereas the earl inspired her with awe and sadness, the other man reminded her too much of the men who had tried to get out of paying after a night at Bonnie’s Place.

  A third, younger man in what looked like a uniform stood off to one side, apparently preparing tea. He glanced up just as Millie looked in his direction. As their eyes met, he winked. He was close to her age and handsome, with sandy-blond hair and a strong jaw. His wink sent shivers through Millie that reminded her of all the good things about working at Bonnie’s. She gulped and flushed, and forced herself to focus on Lord Dunsford.

  But it was the other man, the one she instantly distrusted, who spoke. “Uncle, why on earth would you hire a new maid, and one from America, of all places, at that? Isn’t that a gross misuse of funds?”

  Mrs. Wilson’s expression went completely blank and hard. The young man frowned and focused on his task. Lord Dunsford turned to the younger man with an impatient purse of his lips.

  “This is my nephew and heir, Lord William deVere,” he explained to Millie. “He likes to count pennies to be certain his inheritance will be what it should be.”