Under her bed she kept a small traveling bag, and she pulled it out and began stuffing it with a few items she would need for her journey. Where exactly she was going, she was unsure, but one thing was certain—she was leaving Glassberry Estate. She paused for a moment, a pair of bloomers in her hand, and stared at the dark sky. She and Thomas had spoken numerous times of running away to Cornwall where he would shoe horses while she ran her own millinery. That was where she would go: Cornwall. That was where her dreams would come true.
A new confidence fell over her as she placed an extra gown and a few other personal garments into the bag. She listened at the door for sounds of anyone moving about, and when she heard no one, she slowly opened the door as she attempted to balance both the bag and a candle in her hand. The family, as well as the servants, would all be abed at this hour, so she had little worry about running into anyone as she tiptoed down the passage and made her way to the kitchen. There she gathered a loaf of bread, a small block of cheese, and a few scones. Although she would have loved to take a small jar of jam, she pushed aside the idea. It would take too much time to get it together and make it ready for such a long travel.
Next, she moved to her father’s study. Leaving her bag on the floor just outside the door, she shoved the candle into the room to determine that it was indeed empty. Then she made her way to the book where her father hid his notes. Guilt rushed through her as she reached up and removed the book from the shelf. She was not a thief, but the small coin purse pinned to the inside of her skirts would not get her far. She would need enough money to find accommodation as well as a place to set up her shop. Because her father would not like to see her suffer, she knew he would approve of the fact she meant to invest his money in a business venture, thus she pushed aside the guilt and removed all but a few notes from the book and shoved them into her small handbag that hung from her wrist. That would be enough to get her started in her new life.
She quietly closed the door behind her, the tiny light from the candle flickering in the holder. Then she picked up the bag and made her way to the back door. When she opened the door, the tiny breeze extinguished the candle, but she did not need light to find her way to the stables. She had made the trek many times, even when the moon hid behind the clouds.
Inside the stables, she lit a lamp that hung on the wall. In no time at all, the black and white horse was saddled with her bag tied to the back and Alice was mounted. She looked up at the house that had been her home all her life. She had many memories here, both good and bad, but now it was time for her to make new memories.
The moon shone brightly on the road that led away from Glassberry Estate. “A good sign,” Alice whispered to her horse. “Now, let us follow that light into our new lives ahead.”
Soon she could no longer see and the world itself lay before her, ready to accept her for the woman she was. She would be free—free from her parents’ control, free from the peering eyes of society, and most importantly, free from the treacherousness of Lord Johnathan Blackmoore.
***
The sun was just breaking over the horizon when Alice crested at the top of a hill and stopped to watch the sky glow, the red and orange reminding her of a warm fire burning in the fireplace back at Glassberry Estate. She had been much too excited to sleep, and she was certain her mother would not check on her for at least another hour, perhaps two; thus, she would have a very good head-start on any search party sent out to retrieve her. Even if Mrs. Huntington found Alice’s bed empty, she would not send anyone in search of her for quite some time.
However, despite her earlier excitement, Alice’s countenance now waned, and she knew she would have to stop to rest before she was overwhelmed with exhaustion and fell from her horse. However, she could not stop at an inn. Although she had ridden through the night and had avoided the main roads, she did not want to chance someone recognizing her this close to home. Instead, she would have to find a soft patch of grass where her horse could graze and rest as she slept. At least the sky was clear; how horrid it would have been to be caught in a rainstorm on this, the first adventure of her life. How sad that thought was, to be on her first outing alone so far from home at the age of four and twenty. Her cousin Anthony had journeyed often on his own when he was younger and often returned with wonderful stories of his adventures. Alice, however, was never allowed to venture beyond the gardens alone. Now, however, she felt as free as a bird in flight, and the feeling was absolutely wonderful.
In a few days, she would be in Cornwall and there she would begin the process of starting her new life. She had enough money to secure some sort of shop space, and she hoped decent accommodations, but if she was required to sleep in the shop itself, she would do so. If there was one thing she had learned during her probing of her father’s books, it was that one could achieve great financial success if one was able to save at every turn.
A small creek came into view and Alice stopped to allow the horse to drink its fill. As she stared across the empty field on the other side, her mind turned to Thomas and their conversation when she brought up the idea of marriage.
“But everyone’ll always know you’ve come from a better class than me,” he had said. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
She had laughed at his innocence. “No, it does not. Besides, I can dress like a more common woman if need be. And you, my handsome man, will have to teach me to speak more like you.”
Alice smiled at the memory and then squatted down to fill her canteen. Though she had taken enough money and food to last the journey, she had forgotten one simple thing. Appropriate clothing. Her dresses were not common; in fact, they were far from it. What she currently wore would catch the eye of anyone she encountered. She looked down at her blue muslin gown, the tiny yellow flowers smiling back at her. It spoke of high quality and wealth, which in turn would make her conspicuous. No, she needed something more appropriate for a woman of lesser means, which would allow her to blend in with the common people.
She mounted the horse once again and it was not long after when she came across a cottage with clothes drying on a line. Two dresses appeared to be her size and were most certainly made from a lower-quality fabric than the gown she wore. After biting at her nail for several moments, Alice made the decision to make an exchange: her gown for the two dresses. It was more than a reasonable exchange, for her gown was worth five times as much as even one of the dresses.
After tying the horse to a nearby tree where it could not be seen by the resident of the cottage, for a large bush grew next to it, Alice sneaked past the bush, glanced around, and did not see nor hear anyone. She tiptoed to the line, pleased that she could help such a poor person in this way. Not to mention that the owner of the dresses would be helping Alice. It was a more than reasonable arrangement.
“Oh, Thomas, if you were here, you would give me better counsel than I am giving myself,” she said in frustration. Perhaps she should simply knock on the door and offer to make the exchange with the woman of the house. However, Alice could not bring up the courage to do such a thing, so instead, she removed the two dresses. Then she glanced around once more. When she saw no sign of another person about, she quickly removed her gown and hung it where the two dresses had been.
“There, now I have made restitution for what I have taken ten times over. The dresses I have gained will be much better for me in Cornwall.” Now dressed only in her shift, she sneaked back to where she had hidden her horse, glanced back from around the bush and seeing that no one had followed her, released the breath she had been holding.
As luck would have it, both dresses were completely dry, and she stuffed one into her bag and the other she pulled over her head not caring when her hair fell loose. An ample amount of bosom showed, but it was more due to the fit than the fashion or cut. She glanced around and stifled a giggle; if anyone caught her in such a state of undress, her mother would have given her a tongue-lashing. Her breasts were constrained to such a degree, she thought for a mome
nt they would burst out of their confines. The material scratched and reminded her of a flour sack. However, despite the fact the dress was made of burlap and not muslin, it would serve its purpose, and quite well.
“You see, I am not a thief. Two common dresses for one of great quality is quite the bargain,” she said aloud as though hoping to hear approval. Then, she mounted her horse once again and rode away, happy with her new clothes.
An hour down the road, fatigue plagued her. The horse followed the creek and she let him have his head until she came across a patch of soft grass where she halted the horse, tied him to a tree that stood beside the bank and allowed the animal to graze and drink its fill. She pulled out the other dress she had taken, this one a blue linen, placed it on the ground as a covering, and lay down to look up at the blue sky.
Several scenarios ran through her mind as she created a story to explain the fact she traveled alone. Depending on the person with whom she spoke, she could change the story to fit her needs at that time. This would not only keep her anonymity safe, but it would also delay anyone finding her.
She slept for several hours, and when she woke once again, the sun had passed its zenith. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten since the previous night, so she tore off a hunk of bread and a bit of cheese. The small canteen she had taken from the stables, more than likely left by one of the stable boys, allowed her to collect water from the creek to drink. However good the bread and cheese tasted, or how cool the water felt on her throat, she found herself wishing she had a nice cup of tea and one of Cook’s cakes.
“You are on your own now, Alice,” she scolded herself. “You will eat what you have and be happy with it. Soon, you will have your own millinery, which will produce your own money. Then you may have your tea and cakes.” The idea brought on a renewed vigor, and she was soon back on her horse and riding away into a bright and exciting future.
Chapter Ten
The air in the study was heavy as Johnathan attempted to keep rein on his frustration. He looked forward to the day when everything was in place so he would no longer need to deal with the man before him.
“I have heard talk this past week that you will be gaining new trades,” Lord Charles Burkley said in his high, nasally tone. He tugged on the ends of his sleeves in an irritating manner, and it took everything in Johnathan to not slap the man’s hand away and ask him to sit still as if he were a child rather than a duke. “If this is so, I am happy for you.” His tone led Johnathan to think he did not believe what he had been told as truth, but when Johnathan went to respond, Lord Burkley lifted a single finger at him. “Understand, until I see the contracts, I will not risk placing any more orders. It is that simple.” He rose from his chair in a clear message that the conversation had ended.
Johnathan despised being put into this position, but he played the game nonetheless. He stared down at the floor in mock humility and said, “I understand. The contracts will be completed soon, and I will send a messenger the moment they are signed.”
The pompous man sniffed. “Do not allow it to be too long. I have other people with whom I can order what I need; perhaps at a higher price, but they are ready and willing to begin tomorrow if I choose to use their services.” He took his hat and coat from the footman. “I will see myself out.”
“Good riddance,” Johnathan mumbled as he closed the door to the study after the man left.
His frustration, however, was aimed not solely at the Duke, but even more so at Miss Huntington and how long it was taking to win her over. Though he had boasted to her father that their agreement was near completion, he wished it actually was so. His marriage to Miss Huntington was now more important than ever, for, without the contract with Mr. Huntington, Johnathan would be required to go through another merchant at a much higher cost for the goods he needed in order to fulfill the order which Lord Burkley wished to place. Then, in order to make any profit at all, he would have to raise the price of the cushions Lord Burkley had promised to order, and in turn, ruin his reputation as a reputable and trustworthy party. Yes, it was time to convince Miss Huntington to marry him, and the sooner, the better.
He poured himself a brandy, walked over to the window and looked outside. Margaret walked down the path, her body swaying in a provocative manner. If—no—when everything fell into place with the Huntingtons, Johnathan would no longer need Margaret as often as he did currently. He did plan on keeping her on in case the lovely Miss Huntington proved to be as much of a prude as she pretended to be. However, something told him that she would be much different from what he had first expected. Though he would never allow himself to love anyone, he would allow her to love him. She would come to desire him and be thankful he sought his pleasure in her arms rather than those of other women.
His mind returned to their last meeting. She had shocked him with her views on love, though why what she shared would shock him was surprising in itself due to the fact that she had chosen not to marry and reveled in the fact she was a spinster. Most women thought of love as it was presented in novels—some sort of gushing affair where a man worshiped a woman and acted the fool to earn her trust and love. However, that adoration did not truly exist, not in Johnathan’s opinion, and he was pleased that Miss Huntington saw it for what it was: a farce. Since they agreed on this key point, then perhaps they could eventually learn to become friends and even to care for each other.
He shook his head and wondered from where such absurd sentiments came as he downed the last of his brandy in one swallow. Those types of foolish notions were a guaranteed disaster. No, he would use her for his needs, for his pleasure, for the same reason he kept Margaret in his employ, only with one caveat: she would produce a legitimate heir.
Speaking of Margaret, it was time to let her know she would be needed this evening, and Johnathan had no doubts that the woman would readily agree.
“My Lord.”
Johnathan’s heart leapt into his throat and he spun around, almost dropping his brandy glass in the process. Stanton stood at the door, one hand behind him and the other extended before him holding a silver tray.
“Stanton, you startled me.”
“I apologize, My Lord. A messenger delivered a letter from Mr. Huntington just a few moments ago. He has said the message is urgent and that a reply is required as soon as possible.”
Johnathan waved Stanton over and took the letter from the tray. What could the man possibly want that required Johnathan to respond immediately? Had he not been to visit Miss Huntington just three days prior? Did the man not realize that Johnathan had business to conduct? He opened the letter and read the contents:
Lord Blackmoore,
I hope this letter finds you well. It is with great distress that I inform you that our daughter, Alice, who is to be your intended, has run away. She left Glassberry Estate two days past and we do not know where she has gone.
As per our agreement, it is your responsibility to see that Alice agrees to marry you, so it will also be your responsibility to find her and bring her safely back. If you do not do so, then we will call the agreement null and void.
Please send an immediate reply with my messenger.
Sincerely,
Mr. Dudley Huntington
Johnathan screamed a string of curses as he threw the empty brandy glass at the nearest wall, where it shattered, the crystal shards tinkling to the floor in a glittering pile. “How dare he put this one me,” he shouted. “And that woman has gone too far.” He seethed as he went to his desk and sat down. His mind raced through every scenario he could bring to mind as he sat with his hands clasped on the desktop in front of him.
“My Lord, may I do anything to help?” Stanton asked with concern.
“No. Not yet. Wait,” came Johnathan’s curt reply. He felt a twinge of guilt for speaking so to a man who had been of great support to him, but he needed time to think and formulate a plan. Miss Huntington was a woman, so that would make his job that much easier. Men
could hide themselves quite easily, but women did not have the skills or ability to stay hidden for long. In which direction would she have run and where could she be heading? He slammed his fist on the desk. In any other situation, he would have left her to her own devices, and good riddance to her. However, his empire depended on her acceptance of his marriage proposal, so he needed to find her—and soon.
“Prepare my horse and clothes for travel. I may be gone for some time, so let anyone who inquires after me know that my sister Beatrice has taken ill.”
“Of course, My Lord,” Stanton replied.
Johnathan grabbed a quill, dipped it into the ink, took a single sheet of paper and began to write. A few minutes later he signed his name and then motioned to Stanton to take it.
Once Stanton was gone with the hastily written reply, Johnathan went to the bottle of brandy and poured himself a half of a glass. He had been humiliated before, but this time the woman who walked out on him would not get away with it.
Chapter Eleven
Alice knew the only way to get to Cornwall without anyone searching for her would happen upon her was to create a new identity and assume a new persona. Although those in the theater were looked down upon as lesser people, their ability to convince others they were someone else was something Alice admired. When she inquired of an actress her secret to achieving such duplicity, the woman had informed her that she had to become that person in every way.
“If I am to play, say, a scullery maid, I must think and act as a scullery maid for the duration of the production. Otherwise, I revert to my real self and the performance suffers,” the woman had said.
This had shocked Alice. “But is that not a bit worrisome? What I mean to say is are you not afraid that some of the characters you portray, especially those of immoral or evil nature, will not eventually take over who you truly are?”
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