Dark Ruby (Ransomed Jewels)

by Laura Landon

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

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2016

  A Kindle Scout selection

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  To Mary Schwaner, who’s been with me from the very beginning. Who works tirelessly to make every book I write the best it can be. Who’s not only an editor extraordinaire, but the best friend anyone can have.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About Laura

  Chapter 1

  Isobel knelt beside the bed of her maid, Daisy, and held her lifeless hand. Rivers of tears streamed down Isobel’s face.

  “She’s gone, miss,” the doctor said softly, then pushed himself to his full height and rolled his shoulders.

  He’d tried everything he knew to do, Isobel knew he had, but there was nothing to be done for Isobel’s longtime maid, friend, and substitute mother.

  They’d been on the road only three days before Isobel realized Daisy wasn’t well. She didn’t complain, but of course she wouldn’t. Isobel thought Daisy had never complained one day in her life.

  Finally, when Isobel forced Daisy to tell her what was bothering her, she said she had an unsettled stomach, as well as a tightness in her chest. Then yesterday, the left side of her face went limp, and that limpness traveled down her body.

  They’d stopped at the first inn on their way north, the Thorn and Briar. Isobel had taken a room, then had the innkeeper call for a doctor.

  Isobel knew what Daisy’s symptoms meant, but she didn’t want to think this could be happening. Daisy wasn’t that old—barely older than Isobel’s mother would be had she lived.

  Now, Daisy was gone, and Isobel was alone. Just three days’ journey from the border that separated England from Scotland. Three days that transported her from a life of hell to one of freedom.

  Isobel gently placed her faithful servant’s hands one over the other atop her still body, suddenly feeling adrift on turbulent seas. It had been Daisy’s plan for Isobel to escape, rather than be forced into an impossibly miserable marriage. It was at Daisy’s suggestion that they’d left for Scotland, because Daisy was certain Isobel’s father would never consider that she’d gone north to Scotland rather than south to London.

  It had been Daisy’s constant reassurances that gave Isobel the courage to continue, even when she suspected something was wrong with her beloved maid.

  Isobel lifted several strands of Daisy’s graying hair back from her face, then brushed her fingers over the woman’s forehead. The worry lines were gone. A peaceful countenance had settled over her.

  More tears formed in Isobel’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

  What was she to do now? No matter how often she asked herself, she couldn’t find an answer.

  The doctor allowed her several moments while he replaced the bottles he’d taken from his bag, removed the sleeve stockings that kept his coat sleeves and white cuffs pristine, and closed his worn leather satchel. Isobel swiped the tears from her eyes and rose when she realized he was ready to leave.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, reaching into her reticule and pulling out a coin. It wasn’t much, probably not as much as the doctor usually received for calls this far away from his home. But Isobel didn’t have a great deal of ready cash at her disposal. She’d brought along a fortune in jewels, but she’d have to wait until she reached Edinburgh to pawn them for the money she’d need to live.

  Only one mouth to feed now. The heartbreaking reality of it swelled in her throat.

  She extended her hand to give the doctor the coin, but he clasped her fingers around the coin in her hand and patted her fingers. “Keep it, miss. I’m sure you’ll have need of it before you reach your destination.”

  Isobel hesitated, then dropped the coin back into her reticule.

  “What are your plans, miss?” the doctor asked.

  “I . . . I’m . . . uncertain,” she answered. She needed time. Time to consider what options were available to her.

  “There’s a small plot behind the church at the edge of town,” he said. “Unless, of course, the lady has relatives close by who will come for her.”

  Isobel shook her head. “There are no relatives.”

  “I shall make arrangements for the burial then, if you’d like.”

  Isobel nodded. “I’m most grateful for your assistance.”

  “I’ll send Mrs. Brown up then to help you ready the body for burial. I’m sure the vicar can hold the graveside service yet this afternoon. Or tomorrow, if you prefer.”

  “This afternoon would be best,” Isobel said past the lump in her throat.

  The doctor picked up his bag and walked to the door. He turned back to Isobel before he stepped out of the room. “What is the lady’s name?” he asked. “Vicar Rushly will need to know.”

  Isobel nodded. “Of course. Her name is Dai—” Isobel stopped and cleared her throat.

  She opened her mouth to speak again, but the words refused to come.

  She had a thought. An idea that could be the answer to everything.

  Should she? she asked herself. Could Daisy’s death be used to save her?

  Isobel took in several shuddering breaths. Daisy had done so much for her. She’d comforted her and her sister Vanessa when their mother died. She was the one they both went to when they were troubled. And she was the only one who tried to protect them when their father drank too much and became violent. It seemed only fitting that Daisy take Isobel’s place now and save her from her father’s wrath forever.

  Isobel lowered her gaze to Daisy’s lifeless body.

  “Her name is Lady Isobel Culver.”

  . . .

  Isobel stood at Daisy’s graveside as the vicar recited words of scripture over Daisy’s casket. The gathering was small—only Mr. and Mrs. Brown, owners of the Thorn and Briar, a woman Isobel assumed was the vicar’s wife, and two local men in plaid flannel shirts and homespun pants. The two men stood to the side with shovels in their hands, waiting for the service to conclude so they could finish the job of burying the stranger who’d died at the Thorn and Briar.

  The gathering would have been much larger if they’d been home, at Gilchrist Manor. Everyone there loved Daisy. The entire staff would have turned out for her funeral. Even her father would have been there, and perhaps he would have given the staff a half day in honor of the woman who’d been with their family since the day he and Isobel’s mother married.

  Isobel knew
Daisy had come with her mother when she’d married her father. Perhaps that was why Daisy seemed to have more influence over her father than anyone else. It was as if Daisy knew something about the Earl of Gilchrist that no one else knew. That there was a hidden secret that gave Daisy more influence than the other servants had—something that had happened before Isobel’s mother died. Before her father had started drinking. Before he became angry at the world.

  Perhaps that was why Daisy had been so insistent that Isobel leave. It was as if Daisy understood more than anyone how unhappy Isobel would be if she allowed her father to force her to marry a man she didn’t love.

  “Miss?” a voice said from beside her.

  Isobel turned. The service was over and she hadn’t realized it. She accepted a hug from Mrs. Brown and a pat on the shoulder from Mr. Brown. Then a hug from the vicar’s wife.

  The vicar clasped her hands between his and told her that our dear Lord would watch over her, and if she had need of anything, she had only to ask.

  Then she was alone . . . except for a man who stood at her right. A man she didn’t recognize. He was dressed in a black jacket, pants, and vest. His shirt was as pristine white as those of the liveried servants at Gilchrist Manor. His shoes shone to a high polish, and the cravat at his neck was tied in a knot as intricate as any she’d seen in Society. He reached a black-gloved hand to his head and removed his hat, then bowed.

  “Please accept my condolences, Mrs. Moore. I . . . I know this is hardly the time to interrupt you, but I didn’t want to frighten you if you noticed me. It would have been most inappropriate to stand in the shadows as if I were watching you.”

  “Were you?” Isobel asked.

  The man blinked once in surprise, then a slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth, though he immediately banished it.

  “Actually, I was,” he admitted. “I would like to speak with you when you have finished saying your farewells to your mistress.”

  “Have we met, sir?”

  “No, Mrs. Moore,” the man answered with a shake of his head. “Mrs. Brown explained your circumstances, and if you find yourself at a loss as to what to do, I have a position that might be of interest to you. I’ll return to the Thorn and Briar and wait for you there.”

  Isobel was too stunned to do anything except nod.

  “Very good,” the man said. “Please, take as much time as you need. I’ll wait for you at the Briar.”

  Isobel nodded as the man politely bowed, then turned away from her.

  She watched until he was out of sight, then turned back to the grave.

  The two men were nearly done covering the casket with dirt, and Isobel swiped away the last tear she would allow. She would always miss Daisy. But the tears that fell from her eyes were no longer tears of sorrow over the death of a special person in her life. They were tears of self-pity. And those she would not countenance. Daisy had never allowed Isobel to feel sorry for herself. She would not start now.

  Isobel told Daisy a final farewell, then followed the narrow path that led from the churchyard to the edge of town where the Thorn and Briar was located. When she opened the door to the local inn, she scanned the interior of the pub. The man she sought was seated at a table in the corner nearest the fire. Secluded enough that they wouldn’t be overheard. He rose when he saw her.

  “Mrs. Moore,” he said in greeting when she approached.

  The name took her aback. How long before it might become second nature? She was Mrs. Moore now. Mrs. Daisy Moore.

  “Sir?” she answered. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

  “Please accept my apology. My name is Holmes. James Holmes. I am in the employ of His Lordship, the Marquess of Halverston. It is at his behest that I am here.” The man pointed to the chair opposite his. “Please, join me. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering tea. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” Isobel took the chair Mr. Holmes held for her, then sat. Before she was settled, Mrs. Brown arrived with a tea tray and a plate of small sandwiches. Isobel thanked her for her kindness and took one of the sandwiches when she offered them. She hadn’t eaten all day and was feeling more than a little peckish. Nothing sounded better than the sandwich Mrs. Brown had set before her, and the cup of tea.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Brown,” Isobel said, once again moved by the woman’s continuing kindness.

  “You eat your fill, dearie. You’ve had a trying day and need something solid inside you.”

  Isobel took a bite of her sandwich and felt for the first time today slightly revived. “Please, help yourself, Mr. Holmes.”

  The man took a sandwich, and while they ate, Isobel had the opportunity to study him.

  He appeared to be in his fifties, perhaps not quite. He had a serious demeanor, and a sharp look of intelligence in his eyes. Although he’d hidden his curiosity quite well, Isobel noticed how he’d studied her from the moment she’d entered the room. As Lady Isobel, his rather frank appraisal of her would have been a most unacceptable affront. But here, now, he saw only Daisy. No fine satins and creamy décolletage, just the simple black of a woman in service. A man in his position kept a vigilant eye on his staff to ensure the standards of his master’s house were met each day. For him it was simply habit. She wondered if she met with his approval. Or not.

  After she’d taken several bites of her sandwich, she took a sip of her tea before it cooled, then placed her hands in her lap and looked at him. “I must admit to being intrigued as to why you have sought me out,” she said.

  At her words, he placed his cup back on his saucer and looked at her. “I’ll be honest with you, Mrs. Moore. I sought you out because Mrs. Brown sent word of your circumstances at a time when Temple Hall is in need of a housekeeper. Mrs. Brown suggested that you might fill the position.”

  “And you, Mr. Holmes? What do you think?”

  He hesitated. “I think you are quite young, Mrs. Moore. It is difficult for me to imagine you in the role of housekeeper.”

  Isobel couldn’t help but lower her gaze and smile. It was hard for her to imagine herself in that position as well, but Mr. Holmes didn’t need to know that.

  She lifted her head and leveled Mr. Holmes a determined gaze. “Let me assure you, Mr. Holmes. There is not one duty of a housekeeper with which I am not familiar. I can guarantee that I am quite qualified.”

  Isobel said this in all honesty. Although she’d never performed the duties of a housekeeper, from the day her mother died she’d overseen the running of all of her father’s houses—both his town house in London and his four estates in the country. She knew the workings of the staff and the duties of each one from the moment they rose in the morning to the second they retired at night.

  “Very well,” he said. “Evidence of your claim will be proven in time.

  Isobel tipped her head in thought. Housekeeper. She hadn’t thought of taking up a position. She hadn’t thought of anything yet. Her plan had been to go to Scotland to escape her father and the forced marriage he’d arranged for her. But with Daisy gone now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to travel on by herself. She wasn’t sure she was brave enough to start a new life for herself—alone.

  Isobel wanted to reach for her cup of tea, but her cup was empty, and she was uncertain if her hands were steady enough to refill her cup.

  As if the man next to her realized how unsteady she was, he reached for the pot and poured tea into her cup.

  “Thank you.” She tried to smile as she lifted the cup. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Perhaps it might help if I explain a little of what to expect at Temple Hall.” Mr. Holmes settled the cozy back atop the teapot. “Temple Hall is not His Lordship’s family seat but one of his smaller estates. He is in residence now because he has business to attend to here.

  “The staff at Temple Hall is small, and nearly everyone has held their position for years. His Lordship is easy to please, and the staff is very loyal.”

  “What happened to the
last housekeeper?”

  “That was Mrs. Franklin. She retired because of her health. She lives in a cottage on the estate near her daughter and son-in-law, who also live on the estate. Both their families have been here for generations. If you are concerned that you might be entering into a difficult position, let me assure you, such is not the case.”

  “I see.” Isobel pondered the offer Mr. Holmes made with greater interest.

  “I doubt you will be called upon to ready the house or staff to entertain. When His Lordship comes to the Temple, he usually comes to be alone. Other than seeing to the running of the house, I doubt there is anything more he will ask of you.”

  Isobel clutched her hands in her lap. This was too good to be true. The offer of a position couldn’t have happened at a more perfect time. She truly didn’t want to travel on to Scotland alone. And her father would never think to look for her at Temple Hall.

  “I know how difficult this decision is, Mrs. Moore.”

  “Would you allow me until morning to make a final decision?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Moore.”

  Mr. Holmes rose from his chair. “I will send a conveyance for you in the morning. If you decide to accept His Lordship’s offer, his driver will bring you to Temple Hall. If you choose not to accept his offer, simply send the driver back. Your answer will be understood.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your offer. You are most kind.” Isobel stood. “You will have my answer, one way or the other, in the morning.”

  Mr. Holmes bowed politely, then turned and left the Thorn and Briar.

  Isobel sank back into her chair.

  “Would you like more hot tea, Mrs. Moore?”

  Isobel looked into Mrs. Brown’s face, and shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I’d like to go to my room. It’s been a tiring day.”

  “I’m sure it has, dearie. You go on up, and I’ll bring you a tray in an hour or two. You’ll be hungry after you take a little nap.”

  Isobel nodded, then turned to go to her room.

  “Dearie.”

  Isobel turned at Mrs. Brown’s voice.

  “You won’t find a better place in all of England to work than Temple Hall, or a better master than His Lordship, the Marquess of Halverston. And I think you’re just the one to take care of him.”