To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1)

by Charles, Jane

  Vincent whipped around and approached him. Though he didn’t know how it was possible, Wesley knew everything. If asked, he probably knew what the king dined on for dinner. Vincent stopped questioning how Wesley came by his knowledge long ago. “What happened to the brother?”

  “Sir, what is this about?”

  “Just answer me,” Vincent yelled. After a moment he calmed himself. “I am sorry for disturbing you so late, but I need to know. What happened to the brother?”

  “He was murdered. Shot. By his niece.”

  A sick feeling came over Vincent. He was afraid to ask, but did. “Her name? Do you recall her name?”

  “I believe it was Teresa.”

  Vincent sank down beside his servant. The woman he was attracted to - had considered helping - was a murderess.

  “Sir?”

  Wesley’s voice intruded on his thoughts and Vincent turned to look at his valet.

  “If that will be all, I would like to sleep.”

  Vincent stood. “Yes, of course. I am sorry to disturb you.”

  Wesley showed him to the door. “I really wish you could sleep when the rest of us do, sir,” he mumbled.

  “So do I,” Vincent agreed after the door shut and he turned to make his way back to his room.

  * * *

  Tess paced in her room. She was far too agitated to sleep. She must plan. If she were smart, she would disappear tonight, but she could not put Sophia in such danger. Tess did not doubt for one moment that Percer would try and use the young woman to find Atwoods’s piece of the map.

  She sank down onto the bed. She couldn’t believe Atwood had one as well. There were only six pieces in England and she ended up staying in the house that held one, by the gentleman who was friends with the man who would see her hang. It was too much.

  I have to think. She fell back on the bed. Where would Atwood keep his portion? Tess sat up again. His library, of course. That is where her father had kept his, in a secret compartment, as had her uncle. All she had to do was locate the hiding place and all would be well.

  Not exactly well, but she would be free, for a moment. She stood and walked to her wardrobe. Time would be of the essence and she should prepare what she could now. Tess pulled the dark blue dress and put it aside, separate from the other dresses. She also hung her new, fur-lined cloak beside to it. Beneath, sturdy boots. Finally, her reticule. She went to the dresser and counted out her money. If she were frugal, it would be enough to get her to Edinburg and on a ship bound for anywhere far away from England.

  But first, she must find the map. That would be her priority tomorrow. At least she used his library as her classroom, which gave her ample time to search. After it was found, she would wait for Percer to contact her. She just prayed none of this took long because she was not sure her nerves could stand it.

  * * *

  Vincent returned to the library and poured himself a brandy. He laid the list and map piece on the desk before he resumed pacing. What to do about Miss Crawford? Did she or did she not murder her uncle? Did she murder him for a piece of the map? He did not doubt she had been engaged to Percer at one time, but clearly that relationship was long over.

  He paused and stared into the fire. She had spoken of evil. Was she talking about herself or Percer? Or, something entirely different?

  There were too many questions and not enough answers.

  Should he try to gain her trust to find out the truth? But, what if she had murdered her uncle? Wouldn’t he be required to report her to the authorities? That would make him no better than Percer. Also, if she had murdered the man, what did that say about her character? And if she’d murdered her uncle for a piece of the map, what would stop her from trying to murder him?

  It was too much to think on. He could not reconcile the teacher, Miss Crawford, with the formerly betrothed murderess, Theresa Ford-Creigh.

  Vincent downed the brandy and decided to turn in for the night. He stopped when he reached the hallway and retreated to his desk and picked up the papers. He certainly did not want to make it too easy for her to find the map. At least not until he decided what he was going to do.

  * * *

  The girls were sent to the dining room to work on their papers. It was the only place with enough work space for all of them. It also freed Tess up to search, though she would have to check on them periodically to make sure they were working and not up to any mischief.

  She sat behind Atwood’s desk and opened the top drawer. Nothing but a few quills and sheets of parchment. She turned to look in the drawers on either side of the desk. She found ledgers, legal documents, nothing that resembled a piece of the map. She sat back in his chair and looked around the room. Where could he hide it? She knew it was small enough to fit almost anywhere, especially if folded. Though she doubted he would have done such a thing for the paper was very old and could tear or be ruined. So, she needed to look for a square sheet of paper, roughly the size of the one she once owned.

  A safe. She stood. Surely Atwood had a safe in here. Tess walked the perimeter of the room and lifted the corners of paintings. Nothing.

  Books! It could be hidden within the pages of a book. A very clever hiding place. But, the man owned hundreds. Would there be a particular book that held meaning? She stood back and read the titles on one wall, then the next. With a frustrated sigh, she fell into a chair. She had no idea which book he would have placed it in.

  Tess sat up. The girls had books in the dining room. What if one of them was the key? Each book was about a place or a country, which could also be a clue as to where the treasure was supposedly hidden. She had no idea where the treasure was, but perhaps Atwood did. Oh, she had to retrieve it before one of them lost it.

  “Girls,” Tess announced as she stepped into the dining room. “I want to remind you to be very careful with the books.”

  “We will, Miss Crawford,” one of the younger girls assured her.

  She looked over the table. Books were open and each girl was writing on parchment. There were no extra pieces of paper on the desk. Tess strolled the room, hands clasped behind her back. “You know, sometimes people will mark a page with a piece of paper, so they can return to where they last read.”

  Some of the girls looked up at her and others continued working. “If any of you come across a piece of paper, in a book, would you please tell me?”

  “Yes, Miss Crawford,” they answered in unison.

  She continued around the table, looking over their shoulders. “Did anyone find any papers inside of books?”

  The older girls looked up at her with curiosity, but said nothing.

  “Well, has anyone?”

  “No, Miss Crawford,” they answered again.

  Tess sighed. She should have known it would not be this easy. “If anyone needs me, I will be in the library.”

  * * *

  She did not get a moment alone with Mrs. Wiggons, Natalie or Claudia until classes were done for the day. Instead of taking tea in the parlor, she asked them to come to her room. It was the only place she would be assured of privacy. They needed to know what had happened and prepare for the worst.

  “Tess, what is wrong?” Mrs. Wiggons asked her the moment the door closed.

  “Percer is here?”

  “What?” Natalie cried. “What are you going to do?”

  Tess told the women of her two meetings and the dilemma she now face.

  “You have to leave,” Claudia insisted.

  “What of Sophia?”

  “Now that we have been warned, we will be able to protect her,” Natalie offered.

  Tess worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

  “Go, you must leave while you can.” Mrs. Wiggons marched to her wardrobe and yanked open the door.

  “I have nothing to pack my clothing in,” Tess reminded them.

  Without comment, Claudia left the room and returned a moment later with a bag. “Here, I don’t need it.”

  “Thank you.” Tess w
as grateful she would not have to leave with only the clothes on her back.

  “How are you on funds?” Natalie asked.

  “I think I have enough to make it to Edinburgh and take a ship, somewhere.”

  Her two friends shared a look, left the room and returned mere seconds later. Both placed notes in her hand.

  “I can’t take this.” Tess tried to give the money back.

  They refused. “You may need it,” Natalie insisted.

  Mrs. Wiggons began pulling clothing from the armoire. Two more dresses had been delivered with the cloak. She now had almost enough clothing for a week.

  “No, not yet.”

  All three turned to look at her.

  “It is daylight. What if he sees me?”

  Claudia sank down on to the bed. “True.”

  “When?” Mrs. Wiggons persisted.

  “Tonight, after I am done with my secretarial duties. It will be long past midnight and no one will notice I am gone until tomorrow.”

  “Excellent idea.” Mrs. Wiggons nodded her head. “I’ll tell the girls you are ill, so they don’t disturb you. That should allow an extra day before anyone else knows you are gone.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you, all of you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “You would do the same for us,” Natalie insisted.

  “I’ll miss all of you.”

  The two younger women came forward and pulled her into their arms. Tess didn’t fight her tears and accepted the warmth of their embrace.

  * * *

  Vincent settled in behind his desk and awaited her arrival. At the strike of seven, she knocked on his door. He let out a sigh of relief. He feared she had bolted, though he could not blame her. However, he would have been very put out if that had been the case and would have been forced to go after her. Not something he relished.

  “Come.”

  Miss Crawford, no, make that Miss Ford-Creigh, stepped into the room. She wore the stunning blue dress again. The cut emphasized the fullness of her breast and narrowness of her waist. He let out his breath. He needed to keep his head.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  She sat in the chair directly in front of his desk.

  “By chance did you or one of the girls go through my desk? There are a few items out of place.”

  Her face grew red. “I needed a piece of parchment. I am sorry to have intruded.”

  He grinned at her. Miss Crawford, or whoever she was, lied very well. Especially since she was very familiar with where he kept the materials to return correspondence after acting as his secretary last night.

  “No harm done, just ask in the future.”

  “I believed you were asleep,” she countered.

  Vincent nodded his head. “True. In the future ask Wesley.”

  “Yes, sir,” she obediently answered.

  He stood and refilled his glass. “Would you care for a brandy?”

  She stared at the bottle and answered after a few moments. “Yes, please.”

  Vincent said nothing. The state of her nerves must be overset for her to take the offered glass. He poured and handed her the goblet. Miss Crawford took a healthy drink, then set it on the desk. Vincent raised an eyebrow in question. She did not answer but another blush spread across her cheeks.

  “Shall we begin?”

  “Yes.” She straightened her spine and picked a letter off of the top of the stack.

  “Why don’t you move to the other side of the desk, as you were last night?”

  Miss Crawford changed seats without a word and then looked at him with expectation.

  He nodded his head. “Go on.”

  Vincent absorbed the information his man of business conveyed from his estate in the north. Once she was finished reading, he began to dictate his response and instructions.

  “Pardon?”

  Vincent turned to look at her.

  “You are speaking fast, Lord Atwood, could you go back and repeat after,” she paused to read what she had written, “the shearing of the sheep.”

  He had moved on from the sheep and was giving instruction for the fallow fields. What had he wanted done? Oh yes. He continued his dictation.

  The pattern repeated and after she had interrupted him for the sixth time, he turned on her. “Is there a problem, Miss Crawford?

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide, blinking at him as if startled.

  “You did so well last night. Tonight it is as if you aren’t concentrating.”

  She looked away. “I am sorry. Perhaps I am tired.”

  Of course she was tired. She was out half of the night meeting Percer. “Let’s try again.”

  Vincent started another letter but he barely managed to get to the second paragraph before she interrupted him once again and asked him to repeat.

  “This is not working tonight, Miss Crawford.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I am sorry.”

  He added a bit more brandy to her glass. “Why don’t you come over to the couch and discuss what is on your mind.”

  She lifted the tumbler. “Nothing. I am tired is all.” She swallowed a very health drink.

  Vincent sat down. “I insist.”

  She hesitated but finally said, “Very well,” and moved to take the offered seat.

  * * *

  Tess wished she could have paid more attention, but once she was gone, Claudia or Natalie could easily fill this roll. No, her mind was full of what she needed to pack, if she had enough funds, the easiest route to Scotland and if she could manage to escape without Percer finding her. She was not in a proper frame of mind to have a discussion with Lord Atwood.

  “What is really on your mind, Miss Crawford?” His hand came up to caress her cheek.

  Tess sighed.

  “Simple tiredness would not cause the distraction you have suffered from tonight.”

  She longed to tell him the truth, everything. To unburden herself and ask for sanctuary. She did not want to run again. She did not want to run for the rest of her life, which it appeared she would. Or at least until Percer had all of the pieces to the map and went on a treasure hunt. But, she could tell Atwood nothing. At the very least he would not believe or support her. At the worst, he would have her arrested.

  “Miss Crawford?”

  She turned to look at him. “As I said, I am simply tired.”

  “Worried as well?” His fingers traced the lines that must have formed between her brows. Then he gently traced her injury. “This is healing well. Does it pain you much?”

  Tess let her eyes close and enjoyed the tenderness of his touch. Would she ever be free to enjoy the love and caring of a man? Would she ever be free enough to marry, have children? She knew the answer. Not as long as Percer lived. And not while she lived in a country that branded her a murderer and would hang her if she was ever found.

  “Tell me what is wrong, Miss Crawford.”

  She looked into his eyes. It would be so easy to trust in those dark pools. But she could not. “I worry about the girls and the school.”

  The left corner of his mouth turned up and he raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

  She nodded her head, not trusting that her voice would give away her lie.

  “The students will be fine and the new school will be sturdier than the one before.”

  “Thank you for your assistance. Mrs. Wiggons was beside herself with what to do.”

  His smile deepened. “It is my pleasure. Surprising, even to me, but I find that I am happy to help, and to have the students in my home.”

  She laughed. He hated they were here.

  “I know I may not act as if I like the disruption, but I truly don’t mind.”

  He moved closer, placing his arm across the back of the couch. Tess inhaled his clean scent.

  “Tell me, Miss Crawford, what of your future? Where do you see yourself in a few years? Do you plan to be with the school forever?”

  She looked up at him.
He was very close. Almost too close, but she didn’t move away. “I honestly don’t know where I will be.”

  “I hope you are around for a very long time.”

  She opened her mouth to respond but his lips descended onto hers.

  Thus fascinated by a continual spell, it was not possible

  that he should perceive what was taking place around him.

  Wake Not the Dead

  Johann Ludwig Tieck

  Chapter 16

  Tess melted into the kiss. Goodness, she could have never predicted he would behave in this manner. Then again, she had yet to be able to predict Atwood.

  His tongue traced her lips: she opened further. He was gentle and firm at the same time. She did not know a kiss could be so wonderful, warm, thrilling. Percer’s had always left her cold and she only wanted to get away. Atwood could go on kissing her forever.

  Of their own volition, her arms rose and her hands went around his neck. One hand moved into his hair. Her tongue mimicked his. He groaned. Warmth pooled in her belly. Goodness, she had no idea a kiss could be so powerful.

  His lips moved from hers and to her cheek, then ear, and finally the neck. Tess’ head fell back and she enjoyed every incredible moment. Who knew when she would ever experience this again, if ever?

  * * *

  “There is nobody in the hall,” Rosemary whispered.

  “Are you sure we should do this? Isn’t it dangerous?” Sophia whined.

  “We have to. She will be thirsty soon and Atwood will not be able to control her any more than Walter could Brunhilda,” Eliza insisted.

  “But isn’t Atwood a vampire too?” Sophia asked. “Won’t this make him angry?”

  “Clearly Atwood can control his thirst,” Eliza explained. “His wife will be a different story and I do not intend to be her meal.”