Heaven Bound (A Blakemore Family Book: Madame Lou Series Book 2) (9 page)

“Of course, Papa.” Adeline said obediently.

“I say, Addie. You’ve been awfully quiet since we disembarked. Something amiss? Are you already pining over that handsome earl?”

“No, Papa. I just want to get settled into my new life.”

“Most young ladies would be thrilled for a shopping trip to Paris.”

“Well, as you know, Papa, I am not most young ladies.”

“Indeed.” Simon looked at his daughter and sighed. “Well, then we’ll treat it like a business trip and be back all the faster.”

The trip should have been an adventure and Paris was indeed the most breathtakingly beautiful city Adeline had ever seen, but her enjoyment of it was tainted by her inability to forget the last time she had seen Jack. After all, Paris was a city for lovers and that was obvious wherever she looked.

She went to all the shops Emily dragged her to and bought everything her lady’s maid and the shop clerks suggested, but she couldn’t seem to muster much enthusiasm for any of it. Adeline was actually relieved when she was finally back in London and arriving at her new home.

“Well, Addie, what do you think?” Simon James waited for his daughter’s reaction to the house he had purchased on his last trip to London. It was situated in Grosvenor Square, one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in town and appeared to be as grand if not grander than the other mansions they had driven past.

“Lovely, Papa.” Adeline tried to muster some enthusiasm for her father’s choice of homes. Of course, once she married it would not be her home, so she didn’t want to become too attached to the residence. She had lived most of her life in the house that Simon James had built for his wife, and Addie couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. But her life was changing now in leaps and bounds and in a moment she would have a whole new staff of servants to manage as well. She was not looking forward to the awkwardness of what that might entail. She had heard stories, not only from other American women who’d experienced it, but Emily had also warned her about certain prejudices that all English had for the colonials, as they still referred to Americans more than a century after the Revolutionary War.

“If you don’t like it, we can find another place,” Simon said patting her gloved hand.

“I don’t know why it matters if I like it,” Adeline said, looking at her father who seemed awfully eager for her approval. “It’s your home and I’ll be married soon.”

“No, my dear, it’s your home. I purchased it as part of your dowry, you see. So you’ll need to decide if you want to keep it.” Simon smiled fondly at his only child. “Most of these destitute lords had to sell the little luxuries like London mansions and can only barely manage to hold on to the family estates and land. The entailment usually doesn’t cover the extra properties, so the heirs have had to sell them off in order to keep their estates intact.”

Adeline felt like an intruder in this privileged world of lords and ladies. But, it was the lot she had been dealt in life, the price she would pay for growing up with every wish granted. If she hadn’t seen the hardship of regular folks up close, she might have had a different view of her circumstance. She might have fought her mother and father’s desire to have their only daughter matched to a proper English gentleman of noble birth. But having had such a life given to her freely by her father’s hard work, she felt that it was the very least she could do to show her appreciation and love to him.

They pulled up the crushed-oyster-shell driveway to the grand mansion’s entrance. The servants were lined up on either side of the stairs that led to the front door, ready to meet their new mistress. Adeline counted six maids, four footmen, a chauffeur, the cook, the butler, and the housekeeper, along with Stone and Albury, who had been able to get to the house before them somehow. Most likely the chauffeur had driven them in the motorcar, while Adeline and her father had taken the slower route by horse-drawn carriage.

“Stiff upper lip, as the English say.” Papa said cheerfully. He must have noticed that his daughter had grown quiet as they came to a stop in front of her new residence. “Don’t worry Addie, they are going to adore you as much as the servants back home did. You have a special kindness that they can sense and even the British have hearts, or so I’ve heard.”

Addie couldn’t help but smile at her father’s attempt to lighten the mood. He was a dear man and for him she would make this work. Stepping down from the barouche with the help of one of the footmen, she put on her friendliest smile and greeted each servant one by one, asking each of them their names and primary duties. Several individuals were not present, she noted, as no one thought it proper for a hall boy, stable hands, or a scullery maid to be seen by the new mistress. Be that as it may, Adeline made a mental note to herself to make sure she said hello to the lower servants as well. It would not do to pretend they didn’t exist. That was not her way, even if it was the social norm.

“Let’s get you freshened up, Miss.” Stone took control of the situation as soon as her mistress was done with the introductions. “There will be time to tour the house first thing in the morning. Mrs. Primrose will arrange it for you in the proper English way. Cook will be sending up trays for you both this evening, as we know you must be quite worn out by the journey.”

Addie was not about to argue with her lady’s maid. The young woman knew how to manage these unfamiliar waters much better than she, so following her lead seemed the most prudent course for the time being.

The house was classic Georgian, with many upgrades. When they entered the front hall, Adeline was duly impressed by the marble columns, double staircases that curled up the sides of the three stories, and fully-grown potted trees sitting around the entrance along with beautiful hothouse flower arrangements. No expense had been spared.

“Well, that went well I think.” Adeline said stepping out of her traveling suit.

Emily snorted disdainfully. “Not likely, Miss.”

“What do you mean? I greeted each servant and know all their names now.”

“But it’s just not done that way here.” Emily said, pulling the pins from Addie’s hat and setting it back into its respective box. “A
real
lady would turn her nose up at the sight of the maids and footmen and just call them all Tom or Mary. A proper English lady only speaks to the butler and the housekeeper and, of course, her lady’s maid.”

“How awful.” Adeline said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “I certainly won’t adhere to that beastly rule. People want to be treated like human beings, no matter their class or rank and I believe English servants are no different.”

“I suppose there won’t be any changing your mind on this point.” Emily sighed, knowing her mistress well enough. “Maybe the servants will warm up to you, but the Toffs will not take kindly to your crass colonial opinions on the topic. Please indulge me, Miss, at least not behaving like a commoner in front of the other ladies and gentlemen.”

Adeline laughed and stuck her tongue out playfully at her maid in the mirror as Emily brushed out her hair and plaited it for the evening. “I’m not that stupid, Stone. I know how to comport myself in front of company. Only, you, the household, and I will know what a heathen I am in private. Of course, I won’t be able to stop gossip from leaving the house. I shall just have to trust that no one will want to spread the word of my unconventionality.”

“You’ve had a long few weeks, Miss. I want you to eat something and get a good night’s rest. In the morning you have several invitations you’ll want to look over and decide which ones to accept.” Emily moved the tray of food over to a tea table near the chaise longue that was placed at an angle in front of the fireplace. “Cook sent up a lovely tray of tidbits and I’m told she’s quite a good chef.”

“Her name is Mrs. Canter.” Adeline said, sitting and looking around the pretty chamber. It was obvious her father had told the decorator that her favorite color was green, as the room was filled with shades of that color along with gold and cream trimmings. It had the feel of the luxurious French hotel she had recently stayed at. “Is this part of the master suite?” she wondered aloud.

“Of course,” Emily responded, laying the linen napkin in Adeline’s lap. “This is your room and your husband’s room will be the adjoining chamber.”

“Where is Father’s room?”

“I think he took a guest room at the other end of the house.”

Addie yawned and pushed the food around on her plate.

“You must eat something, Miss.” Emily had that stubborn tone in her voice that Adeline had learned meant she wasn’t going to budge until she got what she wanted.

Adeline obediently tasted each item, making sure to comment on everything and sipping her wine as she ate. The dessert was a strawberry cake with freshly whipped cream. Addie finished the whole thing it was so delicious. She ended the meal with a glass of sweet wine. Between the meal and the wine, her eyelids refused to stay open and she allowed Emily to tuck her in and turn out the lights.

That night Adeline dreamt that Clara came to her and reminded her of the promise she had made to her friend all those months ago back in New York on the night she had died.

Don’t forget to seek out Madame Lou...

The next morning, fully-rested and with a new outlook on life, Adeline decided that the dream meant nothing other than a reminiscing of a part of her life she wanted to leave behind. Meaning no disrespect to Clara, she simply did not want to dwell on the painful memories.

It was time to begin afresh in a new country with a new mission of reform. Even the shipyard workers’ plight would have to be forgotten temporarily as they were hundreds of miles and a boat ride away in Belfast and she was here in London. But she was certain there would be plenty of other causes for her to champion in her new city. And if nothing else presented itself, there were always the suffragettes. The only reason that Adeline hesitated to join her sisters in pursuit of the vote right away was because they already had a large support system and didn’t really need her involvement, where the common workers had little outside aid in their quest for safety and rights.

At the breakfast table, one of the footmen—Adeline thought his name was Collin—presented her with a silver salver filled with calling cards and several invitations. Not as many as a proper English lady might receive, but enough to begin Adeline’s quest for a noble husband.

“Ah, my dear, I see you are quite recovered from all the traveling we’ve been doing. I went straight to the club last night to spread the word that we are available for entertainments.” Simon was very proud of his membership in the Turf Club, which was one of the most exclusive clubs in London. Few men were invited to join and even fewer outsiders such as him. But in these new times, money could buy a man nearly anything. “Tell me what invitations you have there and maybe I can help you decide which ones to accept.”

“Of course, Father.” Addie replied, separating the calling cards from the invitations. She began to read the names of the hosts and what sort of party or event was being provided. “Mr. and Mrs. Forsythe are holding a musical evening on Tuesday. Mrs. Evanston is having a dinner party on Friday. Mr. and Mrs. Partridge have invited us to a late supper on Saturday. Lady Michaels has requested our presence at the opera on Monday.”

“Nothing from any of the upper peers, eh?” Simon sounded disappointed. “Well, accept them all, Adeline. You never know which one will lead to Almack’s or maybe some single earl or baron will be wandering by the Forsythes’ musical.”

“It’s the Willis’s Rooms now, Papa. It hasn’t been Almack’s in ages.” Addie replied smiling behind her napkin. Mr. James was an incurable optimist, which was part of the secret of his success. He refused to give up no matter the odds. And right now, the odds were stacked against Adeline.

“Either way, my dear, it’s time to get to work on finding you an appropriate husband.”

“I guess that means our week is planned. Tomorrow night we begin with music at the Forsythes’.”

After breakfast, Addie accepted every interesting invitation and then began her tour of the household, looking for opportunities to engage with the servants. As was the custom in England, however, none of the lower servants made themselves visible wherever she happened to be. Apparently it was the way things were done here. Only the upper servants were allowed to engage with the master and mistress, and even then only when directly addressed. So she made due discussing the menu with Mrs. Canter, the silver with Mr. Phillips, and the running of the household with Mrs. McAllister. They were all very polite, yet distant with her. But Adeline was determined to make them come around to a more amiable relationship with her even if it did mean looking gauche in their eyes.

Four months later…

“I know what you want,” Lady Eleanor Callahan purred, moving her hand up Jackson Bradley’s thigh.

Jack’s body wanted nothing more than to allow this predatory woman to take him to her bed and ravish him until he forgot all his troubles. But his mind resisted. He couldn’t decide if he was still being loyal to Clara’s memory or if he was simply repulsed by this woman’s crude methods of seduction. The thought that if it had been Adeline touching him so intimately, he wouldn’t be resisting nor making excuses, made him wish for the thousandth time that he hadn’t chased her away so completely. But what was done was done and either way, he wasn’t ready or willing for a purely sexual encounter for the sake of his base instincts.

Grabbing her hand by the wrist, he stopped its ascent before she reached her destination.

“Lady Eleanor,” he began, trying not to anger the woman who he’d been warned had a dreadful temper. “While I do appreciate the thought, I’m afraid I must decline your generous offer as I’m still in mourning for my wife. It hasn’t yet been a year since she died in my arms and I would like some more time to grieve before engaging in such pleasures again.”

Lady Eleanor pouted but withdrew. “Call me when you are out of mourning, Jack.”

Jackson sighed with relief and retreated to his brother’s study. He’d been on the family estate of Basildon Park for nearly four months now, after having traveled directly from Liverpool by train. It had been a brisk day in early April and his oldest brother, Winston, who was now the current Earl, had picked him up at the train station.

“Father did not leave things in order, Jack.” Winston confessed as they rode home. “We’re nearly destitute, as a matter of fact. At least I think we are. Creditors will be demanding payment soon if I can’t discover where Father hid the money. If there is money, I haven’t been able find it. Not only that, but I suspect that Father didn’t die of natural causes like we first believed.”

“I can’t believe he’s really dead. But are you saying that he was murdered?” Jackson hadn’t anticipated this grim homecoming. He knew Winston had been concerned, but he hadn’t believed that things were this bad.

“And that’s not all. There have been some accidents, with the boys and Marcus. Jack, I think someone is trying to kill us all off.”

“Us?”

“Yes. Us. The Bradley men.” Winston was not the sort to make things up or jump to crazy conclusions, but this was about as wild an idea as he’d ever had.

“There has to be some other explanation,” Jack said shaking his head in disbelief.

“Maybe, but Marcus’s horse went wild one day and we found a hat pin in the blanket. And my oldest son, Edward...” Winston had to pause as he thought of his boy. “He fell off his horse while riding alone in the woods due to a broken buckle, but either one could have broken their necks.”

“Who would want the Bradley men dead, especially if there is no money left?” Jack shook his head in disbelief. It was a farfetched theory that his brother was presenting him. “Are you certain that Father left no money? Who do you suspect of the crimes? Have you called the police?” He had many more questions, but these seemed to be the most pertinent at the moment.

“I’ve talked to the police and they don’t share my concerns. The consensus is that I’m crying wolf to keep the debt collectors at bay.” Winston was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I would have said you and Marcus are the most likely suspects, if he hadn’t been targeted and you weren’t a shipping mogul, not to mention in America when all this was happening. I mean, we have three male heirs, not to mention my boys and Marcus’s wife is pregnant with their first child. Of course, we don’t know if it will be a boy or a girl. So, forgive my crudeness, but that is a lot of bodies to dispose of in order to get a title and lands with no notable fortune attached. A man might spend his time and effort on more worthwhile pursuits with more profitable results.”

“And Father’s assets?” Jack was having a hard time believing his father had left this world, destitute.

“That’s a mystery I haven’t solved yet either.” Reaching out a hand, Winston grasped Jack’s shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. “I’m just damn glad you are here, little Jackie. Of the three of us, you were always the cleverest. You could always figure out Father’s silly coded games. Do you remember those treasure maps he would put together? And you’d have found the bounty before Marcus and I could even figure out the first clue.”

“That’s because I read
Treasure Island
and the rest of Lord Abingdon’s favorite books. I knew how the old man thought and schemed.” Jackson considered what his brother had just said. “You don’t think that’s what this is, do you? One last treasure hunt for the Bradley boys to embark upon?”

“Possibly,” Winston said, slapping the reins to get the horses to trot the last stretch up the oak-lined drive to the Bradley ancestral home; nearly a castle in its own right. “But it’s more than that. I believe Father knew someone was after the title and estate, since gossip had already been circulating that our wealth was gone before he died. He either purposely started hiding the assets or spent everything in the hopes that whoever this evil relative is would give up their obsession. I’d like you to look at the account books, Jack. You were always the bookkeeper in the family. Honestly, little brother, I don’t know how Father managed to take care of the place without you all these years. Maybe he did lose everything.”

Jack really hoped that was not the case.

Pulling up to the magnificent home, Winston turned to his youngest brother. “I was sorry to hear about your wife. You know I always thought Father was wrong to disown you for marrying Clara. She was a good, sweet girl, and didn’t deserve the things he said about her.”

“Thank you for that, Winston, but I’d rather not discuss my wife presently. Maybe later, when I can face it.” Jack looked away, hoping his older brother wouldn’t see the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. His embarrassment of how he’d treated Adeline just a few days before arriving home, along with his still raw grief, made him withdraw.

“Of course.” Winston stepped down from the buggy and handed the reins to a stable boy. “Just know I’m here for you when you’re ready.”

That was nearly four months ago, and since then they’d gotten very little accomplished in regards to the mystery of the estate assets or who might be responsible for the so-called accidents. They’d all been extra cautious and watched each other’s backs, keeping especially close eyes on the children and Marcus’s wife, Beatrice, who was now due in just a few months. There had been several questionable events over that time, like one night when they’d all gotten terribly ill from some bad mutton, and a mysterious fire one afternoon in the stables when Jackson and Winston had been looking over some new foals. Thankfully, they’d been able to put it out quickly and there had been little damage, but with all the other incidents, they weren’t taking anything for granted.

Jack had spent hours poring over the books and estate records, looking for any clues that his father might have left behind. Winston and Marcus had been delving into the family tree, looking for any male who might inherit if all the Bradley men were to die.

“Father had no siblings, no cousins, and I can’t locate a single descendant who is known whom the solicitor could inform if we were all shot in the head tomorrow.” Marcus threw the family Bible across the room in a fit of temper typical for the middle Bradley brother. The three of them were gathered in the library discussing what they’d each uncovered.

Jack smiled at his elder siblings. This was just like old times, except they’d each grown older. Winston’s hair had silver threads running through its blackness and was receding slightly, not to mention a nice fatherly pudginess starting to show around his waistline. With two boys and four girls, it was no wonder he’d grown soft. Marcus still had his figure, but he had always been on the skinny, wiry side, and his mop of unruly curls was more inclined to a dark auburn color as opposed to the black that most of the Bradley men favored—and they all shared the same changeable hazel eyes. Jackson, no matter how many years he had behind him, and with no sisters to coddle and protect, was destined to always be the baby of the family.

“Cousins twice or thrice removed?” Jack asked, still trying to make heads or tails of the estate books.

“Not that I can find, but there has to be something.” Marcus rubbed his shoulder where his arm was still tender from breaking it after his fall. “Maybe there is a by-blow somewhere out there looking for a way to get a piece of the family fortune.”

“Yes, but whose?” Apparently Winston had come to the same conclusion. “Father, Grandfather, or even further back? It couldn’t be one of us, could it? Any youthful mistakes any of us might have made wouldn’t be old enough to come looking for their share yet.”

“No, but what about their mothers?” Jack said, suddenly sitting up straight. “We’ve all been assuming we are looking for a man or a male heir, but what if the perpetrator is a woman? A mistress shunned? Or a maid let go for finding herself in the family way? It happens all the time, and who is to say it was a footman or a groom? The sire could just as easily have been Father or one of you.”

“One of us?!” Winston turned red with bluster, “What about you, Jackie? The pretty boy all the girls went chasing after.”

“You forget how young I was when I fell in love with my wife.” Jackson said, recalling his youth. “I never looked at any other girl but Clara. The first time I saw her I was only sixteen and instantly smitten.” Almost unconsciously, an image of Adeline’s soft body pressed against his hardness and her supple mouth opening sweetly assaulted his senses, making his previous statement not quite true any longer.

“Little brat is right,” Marcus grumbled. “I dallied with one or two parlor maids during my youthful indiscretions along with my fair share of fallen women and mistresses.”

“Me as well, but I kept tabs on them, being the heir and all.” Winston grudgingly admitted. “And I’m quite certain I have no bastards running about.”

The two brothers turned to Marcus with raised eyebrows. “Don’t look at me,” he growled. “I may not have been so fastidious with my dalliances, but I didn’t treat any of those ladies badly enough that they’d want to harm me. It was always quite consensual and usually they were the ones to end it. Not being the heir and all, I was never quite as intriguing a conquest, I suppose.”

They all sat, considering other options and gradually the same thought seemed to occur to them at once.

“Father!”

“The old coot must have had some woman on the side.” Winston declared it first. “I’m sure of it. He believed in that sort of thing, having been brought up to think that was way things were done. A man would only pester his wife as long as an heir and a spare were necessary, and I suppose Father saw Jackson here as added insurance.”

“But who?” Jack held up the account books. “I haven’t been able to find anything in this mess. It’s almost as if these aren’t even the real books.”

Marcus and Winston looked at each other strangely, each appearing to have some memory bothering them.

“What?” Jack asked, seeing there was something each of his brothers was thinking but neither thought it was important. “Speak! It would have been just like Father to give you each a small tidbit of information that by itself would mean nothing but put together is a clue to the answer.”

“It’s really nothing,” Winston began, shaking his head as if he were embarrassed to even mention it. “But once, just about a month before he died, the old man sat me down and showed me some old photographs taken maybe ten years ago and kept in one of these old books.” Winston turned and started searching for the album he’d mentioned. “At the time, I thought he was just doing that awkward reminiscing thing you hear about when people start to age and long for their youth.”

“What about you, Marcus?”

“Now that you both are talking about it, there was something odd Father said one night while we were discussing names for the baby.” Marcus closed his eyes, trying to remember the conversation. “He said I should consult the
genuine
family Bible for ideas. At the time, I assumed he meant this one, as opposed to any old Bible lying around the house.” Marcus walked over to where the book he’d thrown earlier had landed. “But maybe he was implying there was more than one.”

“Okay, gentlemen, let’s find what the hell Father was referring to.” Jack stood and rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got a lot of books to go through, so let’s get started.”

* * *

Adeline was bored, again. Nearly four months of parties, musicals, the opera, and various other entertainments had put her in the way of several eligible noblemen, including the Viscount of Denbigh, whom she had met aboard ship. He was the most dogged of her pursuers, but they were all quite eager to make an impression. Lord Grafton, Lord Craven, and Lord Townshend were not as handsome as the viscount, but Lord Craven had a more pleasing personality, Lord Grafton’s ancestral home was one of the loveliest Addie had ever seen, and Lord Townshend was not nearly as destitute as the others. They had all made a bid for her hand to Father and now all she had to do was decide amongst them which would please her the most.