“I had no choice in the matter! Charlotte wanted me to dress up like this.” I glanced down at the maroon fabric that had complimented my complexion. “Oh, it’s no use, you will never believe me.”
My tears were forthcoming out of embarrassment, and, to a larger degree, by the bottled-up rage that Jenny was his secret lover. My weeping must have done something to appease the man, for his face mellowed and he released his grip about my arm.
“Sorry for upsetting you, Miss Smithers. I just can’t fathom why my aunt would do something as preposterous as this. Why would she dress you up to look like my sister?”
I shrugged. “Maybe she misses your sister’s company very much and wants to be in the company of someone similar in looks.” My heart was not convinced.
“I agree that you are a dead-ringer for India, although your eyes are not the same.” Davenport looked down at me for a moment. “And I meant what I said earlier—you do look splendid.” He grabbed my arm politely about his and commenced walking again. “Seeing we are this far, I’ll show you the grounds farther on.”
“I have to go back. I’m supposed to be looking after…”
“Don’t worry about my aunt. I shall save you from her wrath, and I’m sure the baby will have many hands to look after him in the meantime.” Davenport winked at me and squeezed my arm gently, which in turn relaxed me a little.
“What about Miss Dorchester?” I couldn’t help but probe. “She wouldn’t like it if she saw her future husband walking about in the gardens with his arm linked to another woman.” Arm linking was the least of Miss Dorchester’s problems!
“She wouldn’t know unless she was the type who liked to hide behind the bushes, and I doubt that she is capable of resorting to outlandish activities like someone I know.”
I blushed and looked away at his intense stare. “So, you believe what I said about the other day, about what your aunt and uncle were discussing in their chamber?”
“No. It would have been impossible. My uncle is still away. You must have been imagining it.”
“I heard the man talking with your aunt. He used ‘Charlotte’ to address her.”
“You certainly have it in for my aunt, don’t you?” Davenport did not sound angered.
“I don’t, and if you must know, she has taken rather a liking to me.”
“Still, you don’t like her, do you, Miss Smithers?” He gave me a side-glance.
“I just don’t feel comfortable about her that is all.”
“Not like you do with me, and regardless of my state of undress,” said Davenport with a chuckle. I couldn’t resist the urge to grin. In turn his arm released from about mine and he put it about my waist and pulled me up close to him. “You are spell bounding when you smile.”
A surge of energy shot through me, like the night he and I had kissed. I tried to pull his arms away, though some silly part of me wanted them to remain. “Now, now, you are not supposed to be talking like that to me. I am not the future Mrs. Davenport.”
He let out a sigh. His arm reluctantly dropped from my waist. “If I told you about the engagement plan, you would understand; however, I have promised to keep it a secret.”
I didn’t care for his explanation, nor did I care about him anymore. He was just like his philanderer uncle—contented in stringing along the hearts of women in his whimsical, sordid, little love dance.
We exited the shadowy camouflage of the shrubbery and were faced with a view that literally took my breath away. Before the castle ruins was a lake abounding with lilies along its shores, and where swans slowly sliced through its waters. Not far from the shore nearest to us was a double-storied building, made of white marble, and stairs leading up between four pillars.
“Is that the mausoleum?” I asked.
Davenport laughed. “No, my dear, the mausoleum is a few miles away; that there is the folly. My grandfather had it built to compete with his rich neighbor, for he was a mad show off in his time. Later in life, when he went soft in the head, he ended up turning the upstairs into a private study and sleeping area, much to my grandmother’s distaste. He lived there until he died.”
Before I could check my tongue, I said, “And what about your father, was he soft in the head too?”
“That’s a ghastly thing to say, Miss Smithers!” I thought he was going to get mad; his smile reassured me otherwise. “It skipped a generation with my father. Nonetheless, it remains to be seen with the next.”
I pretended to be distracted, aware he gauged my reaction to his comment, so I pointed to the castle instead. “That there looks interesting.”
Davenport linked my arm again and we walked steadily toward the object of my fascination. He recounted how his ancestor had been overwhelmed one night by the enemy. A stream that had been diverted to source the water for the moat had held off the attackers for as long as it took for the lord to organize his family, servants, and soldiers entry into a secret tunnel. Fortunately, all their lives were spared, not only that—Davenport held his head up in pride—he and his men expediently snuck back around to the castle, and while the enemy was busy plundering it, his ancestor waited patiently for their exit. He and his men slit the throats of all who did.
I grimaced.
Davenport continued, “The tunnel exit comes out where my ancestor decided would be the future foundations for Evercrest Hall. The moat was subsequently drained and the stream water diverted into what has become this beautiful lake.” Davenport suddenly stopped and looked down at his feet.
“What is it?”
He furrowed his brow. “That is odd. This was never here before. It must have happened while I was away.” We looked down at the depression in the earth. “This is dangerous. Let’s turn back. I’ll bar entry to this area until it is repaired.”
The man at my side was deep in thought. I would have liked to have questioned him why he was now being friendly to me, and why he had not told Charlotte that I had told him about the baby. Another question that had formed, something I would never ask, was it a possibility that he was the father of Jenny’s baby?
We took the openly exposed route through the flower garden to the back of the house entrance, aiming toward the stark white garden gazebo. As we leveled with it, Charlotte suddenly stood out in front of us.
“What are you doing? You are supposed to be upstairs doing errands.” She glared at me and looked down in abhorrence at our linked arms.
“My dearest aunt,” said Davenport, intervening with his besotting smile. “I was taking this most elegant young lady for a walk.”
“She is a maid! Not a lady!”
“Forgive me for thinking she was one, Aunt. Strangely, she is dressed in a most extraordinary uniform.”
Charlotte blushed. Without looking at me, she said, “Run along!”
Davenport reluctantly unleashed my arm. I walked off but still in hearing distance to hear, and much to my jubilation, Charlotte lamented to her nephew that Hans had not had the decency to let her know why he had upped and left.
Millie, who was seated at the window seat, with Simeon on her lap, turned to me and exclaimed, “My word, you look just like—”
“India?” I concluded. Millie nodded. “You are not the only one who thinks that I’m the family. Even his lordship was fooled for a moment; the reason I was delayed in my return.”
“You should have seen how angry Charlotte was when she summoned me up here. I thought her heart was going to give out.”
“Her nephew took me for a walk about the garden, even though I had explained that I was needed upstairs.” Simeon let out a cry so I grabbed him off Millie.
“You didn’t tell him about Simeon, did you?”
“No, we talked about the garden and castle.”
Millie looked relieved. “It is strange that his lordship employed you in the first place. Oddly, he never questions what you are actually doing. I wonder if he was practicing pushing his weight about, in defiance to his aunt’s orders, for the time when h
e does take over the reins.”
I shrugged. Not according to Mr. Dorchester and his future plans for the place.
Simeon played happily with my ringlets as I walked about the room; my concern being with Charlotte’s reaction, especially down in the garden. I only hoped that by accompanying Davenport, I had not extinguished Charlotte’s trust in me, ruining my longing to find out what it was she was going to tell me regarding Simeon’s mother. I was reminded of the envelope concealed in my gown.
After Simeon had fallen asleep for his afternoon nap, I went to my bedroom and dressed in my appropriate servant’s uniform. With regret, I brushed the beautiful ringlets out and put my hair up into a bun. The door of the passage suddenly opened and shut heavily followed by marching steps on the wooden floor.
“Smithers!” yelled Charlotte
“I reluctantly entered the nursery to find Charlotte looking madder than I had ever seen her.
“What did you say to him?” she hollered above the screams from Simeon.
Without looking at the woman, I hurried to Simeon’s cot, and replied, “He was the one who did all the talking, milady. He talked about the garden, the castle, and his ancestor who used the tunnel to flee from the enemy, which leads right up to the house.” I picked up the child whose face was crimson.
“Did you mention your true position?”
“Not a word, milady.”
Charlotte’s eyes haughtily analyzed me, as if reading for any telltale signs of dishonesty, before she spoke. “He is not in the right frame of mind to know of this child. If I find out that you have told him, I’ll be the ultimate ruin of you!” Charlotte left, slamming the passage door again.
Full of loathing for the woman, I tried to settle Simeon, who did not calm down until after dinner that night, leading to my decision to do something that Charlotte would definitely want to ruin me for.
I had to wait in line in the boiler room because the maids were busy taking hot water upstairs. One of them moaned to me about how his lordship always liked to take a bath late each night; that he desired the American-sized bath be filled nearly to the brim with hot water.
“It’s a wonder ‘is flesh doesn’t peel off!” she remarked.
I nodded with sympathy, looking back to the time when I’d intruded on his bath time.
Back in the sanctuary of my room, I perspired with nervousness after the rapid stair climb. I opened the small window beside the washstand and was instantly blasted by a breeze enriched with an impending winter. Seeing there was no risk of getting caught by anyone, especially Alby, who would be busy taking his luxurious bath at the expense of the poor maids who lugged the water up, I placed the envelope seal over the steaming spout of the can and waited.
“I hope this works,” I whispered.
After a bit of gentle coaxing with my fingernail, the envelope lip peeled away, and with the same delicateness, I retrieved the letter and opened it, but several notes in uniform size fell to the floor. On close inspection, I gasped at seeing the many bank notes, a pretty penny for a thief or two. I had never handled paper money before, barely had I had the opportunity for a coin in my hand longer than when the church donation tray passed to me, so I scraped up these and placed them in a neat pile on the washstand. The letter was now my first priority of interest.
Dear Miss Collier:
I thank you on behalf of the Davenport family for your support and confidentiality in this great time of need. India’s brother, Albert, as you are well aware as having a fragile mental state, is struggling to cope since his sister’s passing, and why I feel it best that he did not attend the funeral service with me.
I, myself, have been preoccupied with taking care of young Simeon ever since his arrival, and as yet, I do not have a full-time nurse; the reason it is necessary that I send you the payment via postage.
I shall pay you the remainder of your monies…
I looked up from the letter. India dead! I wanted to cry, “Charlotte, you liar! How could you deny him what he should rightfully know?” But the anger gave way to horror when Davenport’s voice beckoned, “Good evening,” from my doorway.
“What are you doing up here?” I said. I dumped the letter on top of the money and turned to see the candlelight illuminating him in his day attire.
“Am I not allowed to check on the child?” He walked toward me.
I backed up against the washstand. “Of course you can. You are his father.”
“You look shocked. Did you not expect to see me up here again?”
“I thought you would be taking a bath, like you always do.”
“My dear young lady, I’d poach myself if I sat in it now!”
“Why is it that you get the maids to fill up your bath so late?” I didn’t care much for the answer; my question had at least stalled him from walking up to me and seeing over my shoulder the evidence of my crime.
“How do you know?” He turned his head slightly. “Do you spy on my every move?”
I sensed he was also referring to the other day when I’d observed him with Jenny.
“I had to fetch some water, but I had to wait my turn while the poor maids complained about having to take hot water up to your room.”
“Oh, the poor things, life can be so tedious. The maids won’t be doing that for long, not if I get my way. I plan to put in piping so that hot and cold water can be piped throughout the house. However, there is someone who is an impediment to my vision.”
“Lady Charlotte?”
“Right you are, Miss Smithers. She is in control of everything while my uncle is away. She believes the very idea of being able to help oneself to water belongs to the lower classes.”
“Still, why do you have a bath so late? The maids are barely awake at this time of the evening.”
“It’s my way of driving Charlotte upstairs earlier. And the maids know and appreciate that.”
“How is that?” I said astonished, forgetting what was behind me.
“Well, pretty young detective, she has to beat me to the hot water or she has to wait for the water to reheat. Once she has her bath, she does not come back downstairs again, so she is not her usual bothersome nuisance to all those who work there.”
“Oh, I see,” I answered, surprised at his antagonistic stance toward his aunt. “I suppose you want to have a look at your child.” He nodded. “Well, you can take a look while I tidy up in here.”
Davenport looked about the room. “Everything looks spick-and-span to me. Come! Let us both check on him together.” He held out his hand.
I reluctantly stepped forward when a strong breeze pushed the curtains from the window and chilled my back. Before I took another step farther, Davenport exclaimed, “What in God’s name is that?”
All the evidence of my crime had blown off the washstand. Davenport doubled over and gathered up the notes while I snatched the letter and hid it behind my back.
“You have got a lot of explaining to do, young woman!” He stood and flapped the banknotes before me. “Don’t lie to me and say these are your wages; not even a housekeeper earns this amount of money in a year.
“Charlotte gave me the money to pay a lady on her behalf.”
“Miss J. Collier”—Davenport picked up the envelope from the floor—“at a London address.” His eyes were blazing. “How were you planning to hand deliver this to her, eh, by carriage?”
I shook my head. “I…I was going to write a letter on Charlotte’s behalf and send it to her.”
“Is that right? The same letter you are concealing behind your back, after you steamed open this envelope to retrieve it?” Davenport snatched at my hidden arm and tugged the letter from my grasp.
“Oh please, you mustn’t read it!” I cried.
Davenport went quiet. To my surprise, he did not react by shouting at me, or crying out at the contents of the letter, he just stood there in the lamplight, quietly gazing down on the flawless written ink of his aunt’s hand.
I explained on what
seemed like deaf ears. “I was supposed to post it, but I missed the postman. Charlotte angered me this evening, so I decided I wanted to see what she had written out of…out of spite.” It spooked me that he was still transfixed on the paper; I wished he would yell at me, anything rather than feeling that I was invisible. I continued in a whimper, “It is shameful that she did not tell you. I…I was planning to tell you myself, but.…”
His only animation was to look across at me with a ferocity I had never seen before. Without another word he turned and left. It was pointless to call after him to not tell Charlotte; it was pointless to do anything but throw myself onto my bed and sob at my bleak future prospects.
Chapter Seventeen
“Her ladyship wishes to speak with you in her bedchamber,” said Sally. “Her door is the second to last one on the left side of the family accommodation wing. I’ll keep an eye out for the little one.”
I dared not say, “No need to direct me, I know exactly where it is, and I know a much shorter route than you do.” Instead, I nodded.
Expecting dismissal, or the ruin of me, which to me was one and the same, I knocked on Charlotte’s door.
“Come in, Smithers.”
I stepped into the room. Charlotte had her back facing me, looking out her French doors. Her little fluffy white terrier, which lay in the middle of the large four-poster bed, raised its shaggy head and growled at me.
“Be quiet, Rufus. Now, be a good boy.” The dog obeyed, resting his head back down on his outstretched paws.
“You requested for me to come and see you, milady?”
She turned about and paused to look me up and down; a faint smile disturbed her cupid bow. “I wanted to apologize to you for my outburst yesterday. You did not warrant such harsh treatment.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, milady. If any, I should be the one apologizing to you. I should have insisted with his lordship that I was urgently needed elsewhere.”
“My nephew would have forced you to walk about the garden regardless of whether you wanted to or not. He can be a most tenacious man when he desires his own way.”
The Heir to Evercrest Hall Page 19