Little Secrets (2 page)

Charley Lockwood walked from the train station to the Ashby Chateau. He preferred to save the few pence that an unnecessary coachman would have cost, and the weather was pleasant enough for an afternoon stroll.

A wrought iron gate stood tall, protecting the manor and the property surrounding it. His hands grazed the warm metal, the sun had not yet made the gate unbearable to touch. Why was the finishing school locked? Was it meant to keep others out, or to ensure the young women could not leave without a guardian?

It was time for his younger sister Leona to enroll in a finishing school and, as her older brother and guardian, he could not allow any harm to come to her. She deserved the finest education so that she might find a proper gentleman for marriage. Charley had made quite a few connections, having heard of the Ashby Chateau from an editor at a rival newspaper. They had once been friends and the man's wife had been a pupil, many years earlier. Charley himself knew nothing about the school other than it was rumored to be one of the most sought after schools in the region.

Staring through the gate, he caught a flash of yellow as a young woman exited the front door and walked along the side of the building. Charley's eyes narrowed, trying to get a better look. The woman was quite a distance away but by the looks of it, her frilly pale gown was far shorter than any dress he had ever seen in his life.

How could she wear something so scandalous to a finishing school? The gown should have been illegal! He could imagine the headline now:
Young Woman Bares Her Legs!
Would the headmaster or governess not address such inappropriate behavior? He wanted to ask the young woman several questions, including how long she had been in attendance at Ashby, and if she perhaps was a former whore in the process of being reformed. That would at least explain the indecent nature of her attire.

If he was to enroll Leona in a school such as Ashby, Charley needed reassurances that she would learn the right way to behave and act, not be influenced by an unsuitable staff and class. He believed in proper discipline and the young lady who wore her skirt hem at her knees deserved a proper caning to ensure such an act of indecency would not occur again. He shook his head. His sister aside, at least momentarily, what kind of finishing school allowed a woman to dress that way and step outside? It was his understanding that the girls would live at the school, not that it made him feel any better about seeing a young woman dressed in such a manner.

Perhaps he was mistaken. The young woman walked around toward the gardens and sat down upon a gray bench. Charley had been far enough away, perhaps he did not properly see the petticoat, or it had been caught embarrassingly up in another layer of her dress. Without thinking, he climbed over the gate and landed with a thud on the grass. His knees were a bit sore from the landing, the pressure of hitting the ground vibrating up his legs.

Charley ignored the jolting pain and jogged across the lawn. The young woman sat with her back to him. As he approached, he could hear her sniffling. Was she crying?

"Miss, are you all right?" He almost stuttered his words, not sure what to say to her. Why was she upset? Had someone been cruel to her? Another student, perhaps? It did not seem so far-fetched, considering the disgraceful dress she was wearing.

He walked around the bench, coming to face her. Charley had not been wrong about the dress. Perhaps it was just too short and she had outgrown the gown, not having the funds to purchase another outfit? She did not look like a street urchin or orphan, but he could not know her financial situation. Something about her aura of innocence also ruled out his earlier belief that she could be a reformed whore. No, this young lady before him cast a level of purity he had not witnessed before—wicked attire or not.

She wiped the tears quickly from her face and glanced up with wide, red eyes. "I am fine."

"What is your name?" Charley said. She was sitting in the center of the bench, with very little room on either side, so he stood, removing his hat as the sun glared brightly into his eyes.

"Eliza Stead." The brunette glanced behind her, as if she was looking for someone. "I am not sure I am supposed to talk to you."

He did not dare ask who would stop them. It was just the two of them, and he had her momentarily alone. "I am Mr. Charley Lockwood," he said, introducing himself. "I am looking to enroll my younger sister into a finishing school, and I thought I would come pay a visit to the Ashby Chateau."

She clasped her hands in her lap, the sad expression slowly fading from her face.

Charley wanted to reach out and dry the last remnants of her tears, but it would not be proper to do so. He did not know the young woman, or why she was crying. "Perhaps you could give your opinion on the chateau," he went on. "It comes highly recommended, but I have not met anyone personally who has had the pleasure of having attended Ashby."

Eliza looked uneasy. "I do not feel that would be appropriate. You should speak to the headmaster, Mr. Philip Hartley." Smiling weakly, she stood and brushed her hands along her gown. "If you will excuse me, I should go back inside."

"Yes, of course. I am sure you have your studies waiting for you," Charley said. He watched her scurry back toward the front door and knock repeatedly, waiting for someone to let her in. What type of a finishing school locked the ladies out?

She kept knocking, her raps both repetitive and insistent.

Charley placed the hat back atop his head and followed her toward the front entrance. From a few meters away, he could hear the door click and he increased his pace in order to catch up.

"I would like to speak with the headmaster," he said, catching sight of an older woman with graying hair, dressed in a blue and white gown that reached down to the floor. At least not everyone dressed in such strange attire as Miss Eliza Stead.

"Do you have an appointment with Mr. Hartley?" the woman asked.

He shook his head. At least he had learned the headmaster's name. "Do I need one? I am looking to enroll my sister into your prestigious finishing school. She is under my care, and I wish to prepare her for when she is wed." Charley also hoped that there would be occasions that would allow Leona to find herself a husband.

"Eliza, go on inside and upstairs," the woman instructed.

The young brunette nodded and scurried past the gray-haired woman toward the back stairwell.

"I am sorry, sir, but Headmaster Philip is available by appointment only. If you would like to discuss enrolling your sister at Ashby, then you will need to acquire an invitation. I suggest you send him a message by courier." Her eyes narrowed as she examined him further, sizing him up. "How did you get past the gate?"

Charley smiled politely, taking a step backward as he retreated. He did not wish to find himself in trouble, especially if he did decide to send Leona to Ashby. Could he even afford such an elite school for his sister? A great deal of her dowry would likely be necessary to cover much of the expense.

"I will send correspondence to Mr. Hartley at once," he said. The woman was not going to help him. Turning and heading down the path for the gate, his heart hurt. The beautiful brunette with her sad green eyes had struck a chord with him. He did not know what it was about the young woman, whom he found both fascinating and alluring.

His intent to visit Ashby had been entirely with regards to his sister, but now he wondered if there perhaps was a story to tell. Why was Eliza’s dress so scandalous, and why had she been all alone with tears in her eyes? His editor had been pushing him to find news, to create a story that was more than just delivering information to the people. Two other papers had recently been pushing this new type of journalism and his boss, James Kinsley, insisted the same of Charley. Staring at the two-story brick building, Charley wanted to know what went on behind the locked doors of Ashby. Were all finishing schools locked, keeping visitors from showing up unannounced? What did the chateau have to hide? What secrets were hidden beyond those walls?

Charley had a habit of not letting things go. Maybe just this once it was not such a bad trait. He would seek out the answers to the questions he had for both Leona's sake and to satisfy his own curiosity. If the school did not have the fine reputation he believed it to hold, then others should be aware of that before spending the fees to enroll their daughters and betrotheds. Besides, he only wanted the best for his sister. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

His thoughts kept returning to those sparkling green eyes, the tears that grazed down her reddened cheeks. Charley had wanted to brush the salty remnants away. Why had he not thought to offer her a handkerchief? He had been so caught up in thoughts of Leona that he had missed the beauty and allure of the woman who had been quietly sobbing outside. He wanted to speak with her again; he just was not sure how to get in contact with her. Could he send her a letter? She had given her name to him. Perhaps when he spoke with the headmaster, he could ask of her status; whether she had a betrothed. If not… he found his desire to court her was growing. He had not been given the opportunity to think of himself, having spent the last several years looking after Leona. Now that she had grown, was it wrong of him to start thinking about his own needs and desires?

The brunette was beautiful, even dressed in such a manner. It shamed him to think that her attire stirred something inside him he wasn't prepared to feel. He had felt the immediate attraction the moment he laid eyes on her. Though he had felt terrible seeing her in tears, she had done something to stir his desires, especially an urge to protect her. She reminded him of a little girl desperately in need of love. Who had hurt her? Had it been a strict instructor at Ashby? Perhaps she was lonely being away from home. No matter what he did, he could not put his mind to rest, thinking about the woman in the scandalous yellow dress. She had struck his heart—with what, he was not sure. Unable to cast her from his mind, but realizing he could not just stand on the estate's grounds any further, he walked toward the metal gate, climbed back over the same way he had come in, and headed for the train.

He had not achieved what he wanted, only found more questions for the headmaster of the elite finishing school. So many questions and no answers to squelch them. What made Ashby so well recognized among the wealthy? He wanted his little sister to receive the best opportunities, given their unfortunate circumstances. Charley could not bring back their parents, but he could promise to make sure she was well taken care of. He would step in as her guardian and make sure she had everything needed to ensure a prosperous future.

Eliza scurried up the stairs and was surprised to find the door between the floors unlocked. She left the door ajar, first her eyes peeking down and then her head, trying to listen to the conversation. It was not the wisest thing to do, since she undoubtedly was in trouble for speaking to a strange man and bringing him to the door of the school, but she could not resist.

Her tears had dried and with that, her renowned curiosity had been piqued. Who was that man? Did he really have a sister he wished to enroll at Ashby? She did not know the specifics of how Preston had her enrolled, but she felt confident it did not involve climbing the gate and sneaking up to speak with a little. The man had looked at her so oddly, and yet with a level of sympathy in his eyes Eliza was not accustomed to.

She gasped, glancing down, realizing what she had worn outside. Of course the man had looked at her strangely, how could he not? She was dressed like a woman who had gone mad—or, at the very least, was a harlot. "Oh, dear!" Her stomach bubbled as it rebelled, forcing her hands to shake and the contents to find its way back up out of agony and worry. Everything she had eaten for breakfast landed unceremoniously on the floor as Nanny Agnes walked up the stairs after closing the door on Mr. Lockwood.

"Little Eliza, are you sick?" her nanny asked. She stepped over the waste, grabbing her charge by the arm and dragging her down the hall. "And what in heaven's name were you doing speaking with that man?"

"I am not ill. I just…" She tried to keep pace with her nanny. "Where are we going?" She was not one to take stress well, and with all that was happening to her, it was no wonder she had been sick all over the beautiful marble floor. She stumbled into her nursery praying she would not get ill again. The room was decorated in decadent wallpaper of purple and pink, matching the lavender curtains that hung from the windows. The result was so feminine and serene, Eliza always found comfort in what had become her sanctuary. She had always loved the room and did not want to mess up the lovely floor with more of her vomit. She also could not help but worry that a spanking was in store for her after what had happened with Mr. Lockwood. It was not her fault, of course, but that did not mean Nanny Agnes would stop to listen to any excuses Eliza offered.

"Any charge of mine who is sick will be staying away from the other littles. What were you doing outside?" Nanny Agnes asked with a slight shake of Eliza's arm.

"Headmaster Philip gave me permission to walk in the gardens. I needed some fresh air." Had Agnes not heard the news about her papa, Preston? If she had not, Eliza did not want to be the one to share it and see the pity in her nanny's eyes. The shame of it all was almost too much to endure.

Nanny Agnes' brown eyes stared sharply at Eliza, sizing her up. "You are not to speak to strangers outside." She glanced at Eliza from head to toe. "When you step out of the Ashby, you wear a coat to cover that little's dress. Do you know the scandal you could have created for the headmaster?"

Eliza took several steps further into the room and fell upon the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. "It was too hot for a coat." Had her nanny forgotten that the weather had finally warmed up? Besides, Headmaster Philip did not appear to have an issue with her stepping outside for a stroll in the gardens. And it certainly was not her fault that a strange man had approached her in what was supposed to be a secure garden. She had the sudden urge to cross her arms and pout like a child as the injustice of the day, and all that came with it, started to take its toll on her patience.

"Then you do not go outside!" Nanny Agnes scolded her charge. She approached the bed and pulled back the covers. "Climb under. You will take a nap, and if you are running a fever when you awaken, I shall inform Doctor Colt."

Eliza whined as she lifted her bottom and slid under the blankets her nanny had pulled back for her. "I do not wish to see the doctor. I feel fine," she protested. In truth, butterflies would not leave her stomach. Why had the gentleman upset her so much? He had not been unkind or improper—actually quite the opposite.

She laid her head upon the pillow and shut her eyes. Charley. That had been his name. Would he enroll his sister in Ashby? Did he realize that there was more to the chateau than just a finishing school? Eliza let her mind wander and the room was enveloped in darkness as her nanny shut the curtains, her brass heels clunking against the marble on her way out of the room.

"I will be back in an hour. Rest up, little Eliza."

Eliza did not answer her nanny. Her nerves had gotten the best of her. It was not the first time she had embarrassed herself in front of others, unable to contain the anxiety that crept up on her. She lay on her side, her eyes opening as she stared at the window, a hint of light seeping into the room. How had Charley found his way into Ashby? Had he climbed the gate? No. He did not seem so improper as to sneak into a professional establishment of business. She wanted to pull back the curtains and peer outside, see if she could catch a glimpse of his hazel eyes and deep brown hair. There was something about him, perhaps the fact he cared for his sister, that she found so comforting.

Eliza had no siblings. She was the only daughter of a merchant. Her parents had done well to secure her a husband, not that it had panned out as she had hoped. Preston had been kind to her, never saying a sour word about anyone, but it did not discount his lack of involvement. He may have been well off and able to afford her tuition to Ashby, but she felt as if he grew bored easily. Was she not challenging enough for him, or had he met another young woman whom he desired to marry? Had that been why the engagement was called off? What would become of her now?

Would she be forced to tell her parents the news, or would Headmaster Philip be kind enough to shield her from such embarrassment? Would she leave the school and no longer be a little? Had all her training been for naught?

Her stomach churned once again as the fears blanketed her. Feeling a complete lack of control and pure frustration, Eliza hit the mattress repeatedly with her tiny fists. Enough. She shut her eyes, not allowing the humiliation of losing her betrothed to destroy her from the inside. There would be no more tears shed for a man who had not loved her. Eliza was not foolish enough to think they were marrying for love, but it had crossed her mind. She had hoped that the feeling would eventually encompass them. Instead, she had been faced with the truth: Preston was gone, and she would soon return home if she could not find the tuition fees for the next semester. Her plans of becoming a little could very well come to an end. An unfortunate situation, but one she had no choice but to face head on.

She swiped at a traitorous tear that escaped her eyes, which were clenched shut. Being little meant no worries, no fears, no stresses of life. Someone would be there to protect, to nurture, to make everything all right. Eliza was a little with no one to count on. A little with no one to take care of her. She only had herself… a little who had no choice but to grow up.