Blackthorne. Ruth Langan

“That’s much too young to be sent away.”

      His tone was growing impatient. “Then what do you suggest, Mistress Thornton?”

      “A nursemaid, m’lord. One who can be both nurse and teacher. It seems the most likely solution.”

      “A nursemaid.” He seemed to weigh the thought for a moment, then nodded. “A governess. See to it.”

      “But how, m’lord?”

      He turned the page in the ledger and adjusted a candle for light. “However that sort of thing is done. Tell the servants to ask around. Perhaps someone in a nearby village or shire...”

      “Most of them know little more than Edlyn, m’lord.” She thought a moment. “I have a cousin in London. Perhaps she could ask...”

      “Excellent suggestion. See to it, Mistress Thornton.”

      The housekeeper watched as he returned his attention to the accounts in the ledger.

      A short time later, as the plump housekeeper made her way below stairs, she fretted that her duties seemed to increase with each passing day. Ever since Lord Stamford had returned, life had become extremely complicated.

      London

      Olivia descended the stairs of her aunt and uncle’s sumptuous house and followed the directions that had been given her by Letty, an elderly upstairs maid.

      ‘I knew at once who ye were, miss.” Letty’s smile was the first genuine smile she’d seen in days.

      “And how would you know me?”

      “Why, ye’r the image of yer mum when she was yer age.”

      “You knew my mother?”

      “Oh, yes, miss. She was so fine and sweet. All the servants missed her when she went away to marry her professor.”

      “You mean my mother lived in this fine, big house?”

      “Indeed. You didn’t know?”

      Olivia was stunned. “She told me very little about her childhood. I sensed there were things that caused her pain.”

      “She and her sister...” The servant thought better about what she’d been about to say and finished lamely, “...were very different.” She glanced aground uneasily. “You must go now, miss. You would not care to keep Lady Agatha waiting.”

      “Thank you, Letty. I hope we can talk again later.”

      “Aye, miss. I’d like that. Ye remind me of yer mum, ye do.”

      “Thank you, Letty,” she called over her shoulder. “That’s the nicest thing you could have said.”

      This was Olivia’s first chance to actually view the house, since her aunt had insisted upon confining her to the guest room with orders to remain there and even to take all her meals there. Olivia was more than willing, since their arrival had been a most unpleasant affair. Agatha had railed against the cold, driving rain, the lateness of the hour and even the fact that her sister and brother-in-law had inconvenienced her by dying at such a time as this. It had taken all of Olivia’s strength of will to hold her tongue through her aunt’s angry tirade.

      If their journey was unpleasant, their arrival in London had been even worse. An elegant young woman in a pink gown that must surely have been made for a princess, had greeted her parents, not with a hug, but with a complaint that she was missing much-needed sleep. And when Olivia had been introduced to her cousin Catherine, the young woman’s manner had become even more abusive. Her features had become as twisted and bitter as those of her mother. Except for a curt nod, she had spoken not a word before going up to her room and leaving Olivia to fend for herself.

      But it was a new day. Birds could be heard chirping outside the windows. Sunshine had chased away the clouds. Olivia decided to blame the short tempers on the unexpected turn of events. After all, if she was distraught over the loss of her parents, Agatha must be equally distraught over the death of her only sister. Surely after a few days of rest both Agatha and her daughter would have softened their attitude.

      Olivia paused outside the dining room, breathing in the wonderful fragrance of freshly baked bread. From the sideboard steam could be seen rising from a silver tray heaped high with thinly sliced beef. A maid paused beside the table, ladling something from a silver urn.

      With a wide smile upon her lips, Olivia brushed down the skirts of her simple gray gown. But as she took a step forward, she caught sight of a tall, sun-bronzed man striding across the room to embrace Agatha.

      “Wyatt!” Agatha jumped to her feet, all warm smiles and eager embraces. “Oh, when did you arrive? Let me look at you.”

      Olivia pulled back out of sight and leaned against the wall. It seemed wrong somehow to intrude upon this homecoming of her aunt and uncle’s only son. Though her stomach grumbled over the lack of food, she decided to hold off her arrival until the family had a moment alone.

      “My ship arrived in port nearly a fortnight ago,” came the deep rumble of her cousin’s voice.

      “A fortnight? Then why have you waited until now to come calling?” This was Robert’s voice, raised in challenge.

      “I had business to attend to, Father.”

      “Of course you did.” Agatha’s tone left no doubt that she would always side with her son. “If a man is to remain successful, he must put business affairs ahead of all others.”

      “So you have always said, Mother. And I have become more successful than ever. Now tell me. What has happened while I was away?”

      “Mother and Father had to journey to Oxford to bury Mother’s sister.” Olivia recognized Catherine’s whining tones. “And you’ll never guess who they brought home with them.”

      Before Wyatt could respond she continued, “Our spinster cousin from the country.”

      Olivia’s face flamed. Greatly distressed, she pressed her palms to her burning cheeks as the voice continued, “I warn you, Mother, I won’t have that plain, horrid creature wearing my clothes.”

      “It’s only for a few days, Catherine, until I can have the dressmaker replace those pitiful rags she brought with her.”

      “She can go naked for all I care. I’m not sharing my things with her. And why have you put her in the guest suite?”

      “Where would you suggest I put her? In the servants’ quarters?”

      “That would be too good for her. Have you forgotten, Mother? Ian and his family will be coming to pay a visit soon. I won’t have the Earl of Gathwick being introduced to her. I would simply die if my intended and his mother knew we were related to...to...that bumpkin.”

      “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, my princess. Nothing will ruin your chances with the earl and his family.” Agatha’s tone was soothing. “Your father and I don’t want her here any more than you do. I’ll find someone to take her off our hands, even if she has to muck stalls to earn her keep.”

      Stunned and horrified at what she’d overheard, Olivia began to back away, determined to hide herself in the guest suite until she could pack her bags and flee this hateful place.

      Bringing a hand to her trembling lips she turned away. But even as she raced along the hallway, the cruel laughter followed, mocking her.

      Minutes later, in her room, she heard a voice from the doorway. “So, here’s our little mouse.”

      Olivia looked up from the valise into which she was hastily stuffing her belongings. A tall man with sandy hair and pale blue eyes leaned against the open door, his arms folded over his chest.

      “I figured, after overhearing all that business below stairs, that you’d be packing.”

      “How did you know...?” Feeling her cheeks flame, she ducked her head