by Joyce Alec
Alice's new life was about to begin.
2
Edmund, the Marquess of Cholmosley, was getting ready to visit his great uncle, the Duke of Donningford. As heir to the dukedom, his position came with many temptations. His previous life as Earl Loftus had afforded him a quieter life, but with his elder brother's death, Edmund was thrust into the limelight.
He was dreading the encounter with the duke as the carriage made its way to Mayfair. It was never a good sign to be summoned by the duke; Edmund knew that, and he also knew the duke's patience was wearing thin when it came to him. Even as a child, Edmund's more sickly nature seemed at odds with the duke's hardiness, whereas his brother was more robust and acted in a way the childless duke felt children should behave.
His heart thumped in his chest as his carriage stopped outside the house and immediately the front door was opened by Jarvis, the butler.
"My lord, His Grace wishes you to join him in the study. He has been waiting for you," Jarvis said as he took the marquess's coat and hat.
"How is his mood today, Jarvis?"
"Variable at best, my lord. It is not wise to delay him any further," Jarvis led the way to the duke's study.
"I have a good mind to find another heir. It just isn't right. I’m thankful that your poor mother isn't alive to see this. She was my favorite niece, and that is why, I suppose, I give you the benefit of the doubt, but these foolish ways have to stop."
"Yes, Your Grace. I apologize," Edmund said as the duke continued to berate him.
"You have a responsibility as my heir, and I do not want my good name associated with any scandal. You need to mend your ways. No more drinking and no more spending time with those friends of yours that would seek to ruin you. No, I've decided that for the time being you will reside with me. It is the only way I can see that you are becoming a better—“
"Your Grace, my estate. I cannot stay in London…" Edmund interrupted, but the way His Grace stared him down, Edmund realized it wasn't a choice. He would have to stay in London.
"Jarvis, see that his Lordship is suitably set up. He will be staying with us for a while."
That was the end of the discussion. Edmund would be under the watchful eye of his great uncle.
It shocked Edmund to see that his entire wardrobe had been brought to Mayfair. His staff had known before he did that this wasn't just an overnight stay. He felt he was being treated like a child. After all, he was a grown man, he told himself. He needed to write to his friend, the Earl of Bosley, and give his apologies that he would not be able to attend the card game they had planned for that night.
"Jarvis, will you see this is delivered immediately?"
Poor Edmund really had no idea of how far reaching the duke's demands were. Jarvis was under strict instructions that none of Lord Loftus' writings were to leave the house until the duke decided otherwise.
As the days passed by, Edmund grew concerned that he hadn't received any invitations or letters from his friends. Was the duke right? Were they just friends with him because of his title?
For the first time in a long while, Edmund had the solitude needed to reflect upon his life since being earl, and becoming the heir to the duke. He had been such a quiet and shy young man. The social activities that came with his new positions gave him a great deal of anxiety, and he found that alcohol helped to transform his character into a bon vivant. However, the days following any excessive bouts of drinking were usually filled with forgetfulness and such a sore head that he wondered if it was worth it.
His home was filled with various types. Some he didn't know, but was too shy to exclude in fear of being left alone. Now that he was under the care of the duke, the Loftus estate was being cleared of its unsuitable guests.
Edmund’s disgraceful ways had come to the duke's attention some months earlier, by way of an acquaintance seeking money to keep quiet about the marquess's shenanigans. While the duke had paid the man off, it had only served to open up the floodgates and the duke had enough. His reputation for his great wealth preceded him, and Edmund was an easy pawn for those who sought to lead him astray and take advantage of his innocence. Edmund was unaware of how the duke suffered because of his behavior.
His only saving grace, from the duke's perspective, was his mother. As the duke and his recently deceased wife, hadn't been blessed with children of their own, they had doted upon their nieces and nephews.
As they dined one evening, the duke was interrupted by the arrival of a strange man. Jarvis had done his best to get the man to leave, but the man was insistent on seeing the duke. Edmund had no idea of the trouble he had gotten into, but this time, the duke had to act quickly or else Edmund would be implicated in a criminal matter. Edmund continued with his dinner, unaware of what was happening in the duke's study.
With the stranger suitably dealt with, the duke retired to his bedroom. Was Edmund's past ever going to stop catching up with him?
"Jarvis, we'll get him a wife this Season and that should cool him and bring about an end to these stories. Will you make sure that man is evaluated closely, and that what he says is true? Edmund has been a very foolish young man."
"Yes, Your Grace, I will deal with the matter myself," Jarvis said as he helped the duke to his bed.
Edmund was getting restless. He hadn't been allowed to leave the house since he arrived and he was bored. He had to find a way to make his escape as it began to dawn on him that the duke may not be letting him receive any guests. It wasn't fair, he told himself. He was capable of making his own decisions, and the old duke wasn't going to keep him a prisoner. He wanted to be part of London life, and especially as the Season was getting underway, many of his friends would be in town. He was going to find a way.
In the meantime, life was every bit as difficult for Alice as she had anticipated. She had difficulty finding work, and while Betty was gracious and hospitable, sharing the little she had, Alice knew the situation couldn't continue for much longer. She could see that Jim's eyes now rolled when he arrived home to find Alice still without work.
She continued to pray for guidance, but the good Lord didn't seem to be listening to her prayers. Alice felt alone, and now that her money had run out, she was in desperate need. While life in a grand house was hard work, there was a lot to be said for its clean living conditions. Alice had become accustomed to order and cleanliness. It had been her job in the orphanage to care for the younger children, but in this building, full of families, the children she saw running around were filthy and uncared for, and the odors seemed to penetrate her skin and hair. The building stank.
But she had to be grateful for this shelter, bad and all as it was, for without money, she couldn't support herself. She clasped her one belonging in the world, her necklace. She would have to sell it. There was nothing else she could do.
Betty gave her directions to where she might get a good price, and seeing as she had one of Lady Jane's old dresses in her bag, decided to wear it. If she looked like a lady down on her luck, the shopkeeper would be less likely to accuse her of stealing it, and therefore only give her a fraction of its worth. Betty agreed it was the best way and helped her with her hair. Alice was quite some sight leaving the slum that day in all her finery, although it pained her to relinquish the last connection with her mother. She had dreamed that one day, she would be reunited with her family. All she knew was that her mother had died in childbirth, but she never gave up hope that she would find her way to her true home.
It seemed that prayer would never be answered now as she prepared to part with her necklace. She held it in her hand and looked at it as she traced out the markings on the back. She didn't understand what they meant. The necklace had been returned to her when she left the orphanage. It was the only thing she had.
"No, I must trust the Lord has a plan in mind for me. He will help me find a better life," she told the necklace as she put it in her purse. She couldn't stop crying as she walked along the street, so much so that Alice f
ound herself bumping into a passersby in her distress.
As Alice contemplated her future, Edmund was determined to get out of the house. With the duke out on business, he took advantage of his absence to slip out. Jarvis had accompanied the duke and really no one else was up to the task of telling the young marquess what he could and couldn't do.
Hailing a cab, Edmund gave directions to be taken to the less salubrious part of town. It was where the young aristocrats could indulge their vices out of sight of their parents. Even at this time of day, there was bound to be a card game.
Suddenly, Edmund was thrown from his seat as the carriage came to a sudden halt. He heard a commotion and having gathered himself looked out the window.
"I say, what kind of driving is that, you almost killed me!" He yelled, but he couldn't see the driver. However, a group of people were milling around where the horses were. Edmund tutted at having to fend for himself as he made his way to the front.
"What's happened?" he asked as the crowd stood back to let him through.
His eyes fell upon the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But she was lying there so still.
"Is she alive?" he asked, and the cab driver who was kneeling by her said she was breathing.
"Then we must bring her to my home at once and call a doctor. Put her in the cab with her belongings," Edmund gave a glance at the boy who was edging closer to the woman's purse.
"I wonder who you are?" he asked the comatose woman who lay in the carriage. He had never seen her before, but her dress was so fine that she must be visiting for the Season, he told himself. At the house, the cab driver carried the woman through to the drawing room, where Edmund sat by her.
If only Jarvis were here, he'd know what to do, thought Edmund. He sent the cab driver to the kitchen, as Edmund knew he'd need someone to back-up his story when the duke returned. Edmund called for one of the maids to be present in case the woman came to and therefore, not be alarmed finding herself alone in the company of a stranger.
"What's going on?" the duke bellowed as Jarvis ran before him to open the doors.
"I go out and find you have left the house and came back with a woman. What do you think you're doing, Edmund?"
"I'm sorry, Your Grace. I just wanted to see the city. However, my cab knocked this girl over, and I couldn't very well leave her on the street. I mean, look at her. Someone is bound to be missing her."
The duke peered at the girl. She was dressed exquisitely. The boy had done the right thing, but how on earth had the cab run her over. Jarvis got the details from the driver. The girl had walked straight out in front of him. There was nothing he could do.
"I've sent for the doctor, Your Grace. Perhaps he may know of her. You know how the young ladies get faint and light-headed during the Season," Jarvis said.
The men and the maid watched as the young woman stirred. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light, and then looked in horror at the people who were staring at her.
"M'lady, I'm Jarvis, butler to the Duke of Donningford. You have been in an accident. Might you tell us your name so we can send word to your family?"
Alice opened her mouth to speak. Who were these people? What had happened?
"My name is, my name is…"
"Yes?"
"My name is…I don't know what my name is!" She cried out.
Alice had amnesia.
3
Your Grace, I have completed my examination on the young woman. She is unharmed physically, apart from a few scrapes which will heal, but her memory is another matter," the doctor said.
"So when will her memory come back? Her family must be missing her by now," Edmund said.
"My lord, how the mind works is still not known, and I cannot tell when the young lady will regain her memory. There is also the possibility that she may never regain it in full, or at all. You just cannot tell what will happen when there's a head injury. The important thing is to keep her comfortable. She mustn't try to force herself to remember. That may do more harm than good."
"Thank you, doctor. Jarvis will see you out," the duke dismissed the doctor and turned to Edmund. "We must search for her family. Where did your carriage run into her? We should start there. You said she was on foot and without any shawl, so she must have lived locally."
Edmund gulped. There was no way he was going to reveal his whereabouts to the duke. He would surely be disinherited.
"It wasn't far from here. I'll take a footman, and we can look into it," he said, hoping the duke wouldn't detect his deceit.
"Do it now. Her family will be very worried. Has she said anything to you?"
"No, Your Grace. She seems very frightened by her memory loss. I will leave shortly."
Edmund was feeling guilty, but what else could he do. That street was no place for a lady and she may not want anyone to know that she was there. At least, that was what he told himself in an effort to assuage his conscience. However, he did knock on door after door of the grand houses, but no one was missing any such young lady.
It perplexed him. How could no one know of her? She was so delicate, like a butterfly, he mused to himself. He told himself to stop thinking of her like that. He had to find her family. She wasn't some stray animal he could keep, such had been his propensity as a child. In fact, he hadn't thought about his friends or lack of excitement all day.
Edmund returned home without any more knowledge about the girl than he had left with. Although, it struck him that he had enjoyed thinking about someone else for a change. He hadn't quite realized how selfish he had become with his new status in life.
"His Grace and the young lady are in the dining room, my lord." Jarvis greeted him, and Edmund made his way to his room to change.
"Ah, here he is now. This is Edmund Loftus, the Marquess of Cholmosley. Edmund, we have decided to call our visitor, Faith. It is with the Lord's good grace that He has brought her into our lives, and we have faith that we shall restore her with her family."
Edmund bowed at the young woman who smiled back at him.
"It must seem very strange for you not to remember who you are. I cannot imagine it myself," Edmund said although the duke couldn't help but make a sound.
"It is strange. I know so many other things, like which fork to use, how to address His Grace, but yet when it comes to me, there is nothing. Did I have anything with me?" Faith asked.
"It was just your purse, m'lady and I'm sure after a good night's rest, you will remember more so we may unite you with your family. They must be distraught," Edmund said.
He couldn't take his eyes off her. She had prettiest green eyes he had ever seen. There was something so pure about her, so innocent. Her skin was almost translucent. He noticed she had made a similar impression on the duke, who talked incessantly to their guest. Edmund had seen him like this before, but only with his duchess.
"You really do look familiar to me. I must know your mother; perhaps that's it. You would get your looks from your mother, you know."
"Your Grace is so very kind. I do hope you remember more. I must confess to feeling perturbed by my loss of memory.” She turned her gaze to Edmund, “His Grace said you were to search the street you had found me on, my lord. Were you able to find anything?"
The melancholy look on her face made Edmund feel sad that he hadn't found any information on her. He didn't wish to be the cause of her being upset.
"Please consider this your home, young lady. We will be delighted to have your company. We will figure something out," the duke motioned that dinner was over, and Alice, who was now called Faith, was escorted back to her room.
As she lay in bed, she wondered who she was. Was she living in London or just visiting? Something the duke had said about the Season seemed vaguely familiar, but in a more general sense than specific. Was someone waiting for her to come home? Her head still hurt, and she rubbed her temples. At least I am comfortable. It seemed a relief to her to be in a bed and for the smell of cleanliness to abound. She thought th
at was a strange thought to have as she snuggled into bed. She prayed the Lord would lead her home as she began to drift off into sleep.
Meanwhile, Betty was frantic. Jim had searched the streets to and from the pawnshop, but no one had seen anything until a boy told him how a grand lady had been knocked over by a carriage and the gentleman had taken her away. Jim scratched his head. Alice wasn't a lady; she was one of them. It must have been someone else.
"She may have got more money than she reckoned and just left, Betty. You need to go to sleep. She'll come back when she needs help."
Betty couldn't sleep. She hadn't told Jim how Alice had dressed up. He didn't like airs and graces on anyone.
"Dear Jim, she is a gentle soul and not really able to take care of herself."
“She’ll be fine, Betty. Please, go to bed. We can search again in the morning if you wish.”
Betty eventually fell asleep.
As Alice woke the next morning, it took her a moment to remember where she was. To her dismay, there was still no sense of who she was. All she could recall was waking in the presence of strangers. Her dress had been cleaned and was hanging for her to wear as she got ready to go downstairs.
"Anything come back to you, Miss Faith?" His Grace asked as she entered the room.
Alice shook her head. She couldn't remember anything. The young marquess sat opposite her and she felt his focus on her.
"We must arrange for some clothing for you, Miss Faith. It will not do for you to be without a change.” He turned to his butler, “Jarvis, would you see to that? Her Grace's dresses, I think. I think Edmund should take you out in the chaise, so you can see if any place appears familiar to you, or indeed, you may meet people who know you."
Edmund waited patiently for Alice. He was feeling excited at the prospect of showing her around Hyde Park. While he felt sad that she couldn't remember anything about her life, at the same time, he thought it must be wondrous to see the world from a different perspective. Perhaps he should have feigned memory loss when the duke tackled him over his scandals, he chuckled to himself.