Summerset Abbey (3 page)

Rowena stood and faced her uncle. “We were so suitably introduced to society! Both Victoria and I were presented to the Queen, as is proper, but neither one of us wanted a coming-out ball. We detest that kind of showy, excessive waste. Did you know you could feed one hundred families for a year on the money spent just on the flowers for one ball? We did our duty by attending the occasional society or charity function, but we simply weren’t interested in that sort of thing. Our father respected that.”

His jaw tightened. “That is precisely what I am talking about. How are you to find a suitable husband if you don’t enter society? Your aunt especially has been worried about the both of you. I should have stepped in years ago. Never mind that now. You and your sister will accompany me to Summerset and Prudence will remain in London.”

His voice was implacable and Rowena stilled, her stomach coiling into knots. Instinctively, she knew she would get nowhere if she defied him outright, but leaving Prudence behind was unthinkable. She took a deep breath and, keeping her voice steady, tried a different tactic.

“Prudence has been like a sister to us, but more important, she has always been Victoria’s companion. No one can settle Victoria as she can, and Victoria is so delicate . . . With our father’s death, I’m afraid one more loss would be harmful to her health.” She paused, letting that sink in. To deny his sickly niece her companion would seem heartless. Besides, even her uncle had a soft spot for Victoria. “If you will allow us to take her as our lady’s maid, it would be beneficial for Victoria, as well as being perfectly appropriate. Surely you wouldn’t deny us our lady’s maid?”

She pressed her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes. Inside she seethed.

Her uncle’s jaw worked. They both knew she’d backed him into a corner. “Of course, if you insist. But just remember, she is coming as staff, not a guest in our home.”

He inclined his head and left the room. Trembling, Rowena fell back into the chair and covered her face with her hands. The enormity of her responsibilities choked her.
Father, what have you done?
A man who had raised her to independence had essentially shackled her to a man who didn’t believe women should be independent at all. She could lose the house, Prudence . . . everything.

Drawing in a deep breath, she collected her thoughts. How independent had she been, really? She knew nothing of finances and had never bothered to ask. She’d had all of the freedom, none of the responsibility, and stupidly she’d never even know what to ask for. She’d been selfish, thoughtlessly flitting from one whimsy to another, never learning anything useful. No wonder her father had given financial responsibility to his brother.

It was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make again. Not with Prudence and Victoria depending on her, even though the thought of having people depend on her for good decisions terrified her. Decision making had never been her forte.

She stood, glancing about the room, at the wooden telescope by the corner window, the globe she and the little girls had played with so often, pretending to be world travelers, the lamb’s wool rug she and Prudence had lain upon, their toes pointed toward the fire as they read.

It was up to her to keep this precious room and her little family intact. There was no one but herself to do it.

CHAPTER

TWO

V
ictoria had a secret.

It was the first thing she thought of in the mornings and the last thing she thought of at night. She hugged it to her breast like a treasure that was hers and hers alone. Of course, her father had known her secret, as did Katie, the parlor maid, but since he was gone now, it really, truly was her very own.

Papa
.

Again, the overwhelming feelings of loss clawed at her insides and she curled up into a ball, pulling the coverlet tighter around her chin. The early morning sun streaming through the gaps in the curtains glanced off the French bird’s-eye maple headboard, causing it to shimmer and gleam as though it were a living thing. She traced the inlaid floral pattern of the wood, her finger leaving a smudgy trail in the wax.

Papa
.

Restlessly, she slipped out of bed, kicking her legs to untangle them from the fine cotton nightgown that covered her from neck to toe. It often wrapped itself tightly around her in the night, making her feel as though she were in a burial shroud. Next to her, Prudence sighed and slipped further down under the covers to make up for the loss of Victoria’s warmth. Victoria didn’t like to sleep alone. Nightmares plagued her sleep and Prudence’s warm presence comforted her.

Katie had already started a fire in the cream-tiled fireplace, and it burned cheerfully behind the brass screen, fighting off the autumn chill. Victoria’s dressing gown and knitted slippers had been placed on the ottoman in front of it to warm. She wrapped the dressing gown around her, frowning at the satin pink ribbons and rosettes adorning the sleeves and yoke. Rowena had bought it for her last Christmas, and though Victoria hadn’t told her, it always made her feel like a child.

Rowena had come into her room last night to tell her they were shutting down the London house and moving to Summerset for the winter. She loved Summerset, but there was something Rowena wasn’t telling them, she could sense it.

The only secrets Victoria enjoyed were her own.

Frowning, she curled up on the velvet window seat and opened the curtains just enough to see out. Below, the dairy truck was delivering milk, cheese, butter, and eggs. At every stop, kitchen maids would meet the deliveryman at the door for their goods so that when their employers arose, there would be fresh cream for morning tea or coffee. She knew the servants would bolt their own breakfast sometime between when their employers awoke and when they came downstairs for their meal.

Victoria knew that servants had secrets, too. For instance, she knew Katie sometimes stole food from the larder and sent care packages to her mother in the East End. She’d always suspected her father knew about it, too, and chose to turn a blind eye.

She watched until the dairy truck disappeared down the street and then returned to her thoughts. What could Rowena be hiding from her? And worse, how would moving to Summerset affect her own secret? She glanced toward her closet where she kept her beautiful new Underwood Number 5 typewriter hidden, deep in the back where Rowena and Prudence would never find it. For several months, instead of going to piano lessons every week as the girls thought she was doing, she had joined Katie at Miss Fister’s Secretarial School for Young Ladies to learn typing and shorthand in secret. She hugged her arms about herself. Perhaps Miss Fister would let her continue the course by correspondence? She would go and ask her this morning while the girls were busy packing. She would think of some excuse to get out of the house.

Of course, now that her father was gone, Victoria’s secret studies had lost some of their appeal. She’d originally taken the course so she could help him with his work. The ability to type would come in handy when cataloging various plant species, and shorthand would make taking notes as he worked on his lectures much easier. As a child, she’d sworn that she would never marry, but stay with him forever so they could travel the world together, looking for exotic plants in faraway places. He’d laughed at that but agreed, and kept her secret. He knew how dearly she loved secrets.

But now, even though all that was gone, she still wanted to keep her secret. It was the last thing she’d shared with her father. The plan would just have to be tweaked, that was all.

Perhaps she would go on to the university and study, though how one went about going into the university, she wasn’t sure. But she was sure she could do it. In fact, she was sure she could do almost anything, in spite of having a body that tired much too easily and wouldn’t breathe when she wanted it to.

The door opened quietly behind her and Katie brought in a tray that held a steaming pot of hot tea and two cups for her and Prudence. “Thank you, Katie,” she whispered. “And I think we should go out for a walk today.” Katie set the tray down on the ottoman and poured the tea. Handing a cup to Victoria, she nodded solemnly, understanding her meaning. “That’s a good idea, miss.”

Victoria moved to the vanity. Like the bed, it was made of bird’s-eye maple and had been polished so that she could almost see her reflection in it. Katie quickly took the plaits out of Victoria’s hair with deft fingers and brushed until it fell like a sheaf of wheat down her back. “Thank you, Katie.”

“Can I get you anything else, miss?”

“That will be all, until I need to dress. We can go out after breakfast.”

The girl shot her a conspirator’s smile and left the room. Smart as a whip, Katie had picked up shorthand faster than she had. She wouldn’t be a maid for long.

Victoria heard Prudence stirring behind her and took her a cup of tea. “Wake up. We have lots to talk about.”

Prudence yawned and sat up in bed. Her hair had come out of its plait in the night and tumbled down her shoulders in a fine, dark cloud. Victoria plumped up the pillows behind her and Prudence sat back, taking an appreciative sniff of the cup. “And what would we have to talk about this morning?”

Victoria picked up her own tea and sat on the edge of the bed. “Rowena. She’s hiding something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Prudence said, but her green eyes slid away from Victoria’s.

Victoria gave a little bounce, almost upsetting both their cups. “Oh, you do!” she cried.

“Be careful! You’re going to make me spill! And I don’t either know what she’s keeping from us.”

“But you do agree she’s keeping something from us, right?” Victoria persisted.

“I’m sure there are many things she and your uncle talked about that she didn’t tell us. We were all exhausted last night. That doesn’t mean she’s purposefully keeping things.” Prudence looked at her sharply. “Do you feel all right? Your color is high.”

Victoria flounced off the bed. “I feel as well as I can. Stop fussing so. I’m not a child.”

Honestly, it was no wonder she never got any stronger the way everyone babied her. Prudence and Rowena treated her like she was still in the nursery even though she’d turned eighteen last spring.

“I’m going to bathe and dress,” she said in her most dignified tone. “No, don’t get up. I can draw my own bath and Katie will be up in a bit to help us dress.”

After a breakfast of scones, honey butter, fresh fruit, and kedgeree, during which they all pretended to eat but no one did, Prudence and Rowena rushed off to begin packing and do all the work necessary for their move. No one asked her to help, and for once Victoria was grateful to be left out. She wouldn’t have to think up an excuse to disappear, after all.

Their uncle was staying in his own Belgravia monstrosity of a house, so she was on her own. Before putting on her coat and collecting Katie, she tiptoed up to the study. One of the advantages of being so small and pale was that she could often sneak about unnoticed. It was one of the many reasons the household could never keep secrets from her. She knew every shadowy nook in the house and effortlessly spied on the servants as well as her family.

So she knew exactly where her father kept the key to the safe secreted behind the strange painting his friend Picasso had given to him. Running her fingers along the back of the top desk drawer, she triggered the mechanism that opened the secret compartment. She snatched the key and paused, listening for any noise in the hallway. Satisfied, she took down the picture and opened the safe. Her father kept a folder full of old papers there, along with the extra household money. She grabbed the pound notes and then hesitated. Perhaps she ought not to leave his papers here when they closed up the house? Well, she could decide on that later. Carefully, she shut the safe and returned the painting to its proper place, tucking the notes away in her purse and slipping the key back into its hidden compartment. Then she tiptoed back upstairs to her room, pulled her new Lucile wool coat out of the wardrobe, and went to find Katie.

The pale autumn sun shone as they walked down Brook Street, and the sidewalks were crowded with people wanting to enjoy the last bit of warmth before the rains. Children, the girls in their enormous hair bows and boys in their knee breeches, scampered about on the sidewalks, hindered only by their stiffly starched nannies. Harried housekeepers and maids ran errands, hoping to get back in time for their afternoon tea. In the streets, hansom cabs, broughams, and victorias vied for room among the ever-increasing multitude of motorcars. The acrid scent of exhaust now competed with the good, clean, grassy smell of horse manure.

It was an obscenely beautiful day for having just lost her father, and Victoria remained silent as she and Katie walked slowly down the street to Miss Fister’s school. It wasn’t a long walk, but as always, Victoria was winded by the time they reached their destination. She and Katie sat on a bench near the school to rest.

“Are you all right, Miss Victoria?”

Victoria smiled at her friend and concentrated on breathing in and out slowly, as the doctor taught her to do. “I’ll be fine.” She took a few more careful breaths.

“I’m desperately sorry about your father, miss. He was a good man, the way he paid my way to the school and all.” Katie’s freckled face puckered as if she was trying not to cry.

Victoria’s throat tightened, which didn’t help with her shallow breathing. She patted Katie’s hand in answer.

Having recovered, she told Katie to sit tight and entered the old brick office building where Miss Fister’s school resided. Miss Fister wasn’t in and Victoria was disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to say good-bye to her teacher, but she wrote a short note explaining the situation and left her address with the clerk, along with the remainder of her and Katie’s course fees.

“Is everything all right, miss?” Katie’s dark red brows knitted together when Victoria rejoined her in front of the school.

“Yes, I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of after I’m gone. I’ve paid the fees off for both of us.” Her generosity buoyed her step as they headed toward home. No wonder her father had been so giving. It felt wonderful.

“Oh, thank you, miss!”

On impulse, Victoria linked arms with Katie. “You’ve been a good friend, keeping my secret.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “Well, it’s my secret, too. Hodgekins would say I didn’t know my place if he knew.”

“You’ll make a good secretary someday.”

“I hope so. That day may come sooner than we think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, on account of your uncle selling the house and all. The staff is all in a dither about losing their jobs.”

Victoria stopped and clutched Katie’s arm. “Where did you hear that?”

“From Hodgekins, of course. Your uncle told him that the house will probably be sold by next summer. He wanted the staff to have time to look for other employment.”

Victoria’s knees buckled and Katie caught her around the waist. “Miss!”

Black spots appeared in front of her eyes and her chest got the hollow, tight feeling that meant she was about to lose her breath completely. She gasped, fighting for air. The black spots knitted together, becoming a tunnel, and she knew she would faint if she couldn’t get a breath of air soon. Katie backed her up against the brick wall of a millinery shop and she leaned against it gratefully. She pressed her lips together and counted, one, two, three, and took a little breath.

“Miss! Do you need your nebulizer, miss?”

Victoria heard Katie’s panicked voice as if it were traveling from a great distance. She shook her head and continued counting. One, two, three, little breaths. One, two, three . . . bit by bit her pulse slowed and her chest opened.

“Is everything all right, miss? Is this girl bothering you?” A man dressed in a posh flannel jacket and waistcoat hastily approached them.

Victoria’s eyes flew open, aghast at the man’s assumption that Katie, in her worn woolen uniform, was accosting her. “Certainly not. Mind your own business,” she gasped. “How dare you make such presumptions based on our attire. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

The man’s eyes widened as he tipped his bowler and backed away.

“Are you all right now? Was it something I said, miss?”

Victoria shook her head. “No. Of course not. It was just . . . just an
episode
. The same as always.” Though her new doctor called her an asthmatic, Victoria hated the word “asthma” and refused to use it or any variation of it. It sounded so . . . sickly.