Summerset Abbey (4 page)

Katie’s face scrunched up, but she said nothing as she helped Victoria stand upright and they began walking slowly down the street.

Victoria’s fingers and toes tingled and she wasn’t sure if it was the aftereffects of her experience or the anger building at her core.

So that was what Rowena was hiding from her.
They were selling her home! Their lovely house with its countless windows, bright, clean lines, and years of treasured memories. How could Rowena let it happen?

*   *   *

Prudence kept her eyes closed. Each little jolt of the carriage grated against both her bones and her nerves. When they had started out yesterday, she’d felt a stirring of excitement underlying the grief that still lingered on her skin like a film of powder. But that had been early in the day, before the endless green fields and autumn-lit trees had lost their novelty. By the time they’d stopped at the inn in Bedford last night, she’d been stiff and more than a little sore. Now every muscle screamed at her enforced confinement. She wished they’d waited to come down until the next week, when the driver would be delivering Sir Philip’s new motorcar to Summerset, but the Earl had insisted on a traditional funeral procession. He rode in the carriage in front of them, while the black mahogany coach carrying Sir Philip’s coffin led the way.

Often, when they met a motorcar, the coaches had to stop to settle the horses, which made her want to scream. It felt as if they’d never reach Summerset.

Rowena and Victoria had barely said two words to each other since their quarrel the other day. Victoria had been in such a huff, she’d had to be put on the nebulizer on and off for the rest of that afternoon. For Prudence, the sulky silence between the sisters made the never-ending ride even more unbearable.

Her mind still reeled from the revelation that Rowena’s uncle was going to sell their home. Rowena promised she wouldn’t let it happen. Prudence had no idea what she could do to stop it, but she had to trust Rowena.

Next to her Victoria stretched. “How long now, Ro?” Her voice sounded contrite and Rowena answered in kind.

“It shouldn’t be too long. Look, we’re going past the kissing mill.”

“Why do you call it that?” Prudence asked as both she and Victoria craned their heads to look out the carriage window.

“The locals have a legend that if you ask your girl to marry you by the water wheel, she can’t say no,” Victoria said.

Rowena snorted. “I think it’s just a private place for couples to get away to kiss.”

“I think it’s lovely,” Victoria said. She turned to Prudence. “We’re on Summerset land now. The manor is over the next hill. I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.”

“It does seem strange,” Rowena agreed. “Victoria and I have spent almost every summer here since we were children.”

Prudence looked down at her hands. “My mother was happy with the holiday to Bath your father gave us every year. She said there would be time for visiting later on.”

“But you never did,” Victoria said.

“No. I never did.”

“Weren’t you born in the village?”

She nodded.

“Well, you could have family here.”

Prudence had never thought about it, but it was entirely possible. So why had her mother never come back to visit? Most women can’t bear to be parted from their families, but her mother’s family was never mentioned. For that matter, her mother had rarely spoken of her girlhood and never about Summerset Abbey. Could it have something to do with the Earl, as those women at the funeral had suggested?

“So tell me about Summerset,” she said, partly to change the subject and partly to pass the time.

“It’s lovely, imposing, and terrifying,” Victoria said immediately.

Prudence raised her brows. “Terrifying how?”

“It’s a bit intimidating because it is so large and some parts of it are rather frightening. But it’s lovely, too.”

As Victoria warmed to her subject, Prudence learned that Summerset was built in the early 1600s on the site of an earlier home that had been built on the ruins of a castle constructed in the eighth century. It sat on a park of over a thousand acres, with three formal gardens, a kitchen garden, its own lake, and several ponds. The house itself had over a hundred rooms and staffed a small army of sixty servants, which included not only housemaids, footmen, and gardeners but also a carpenter, a stonemason, and a mechanic to keep the motors in top shape.

“I think you’ll like it, even if it’s very different from our house,” Victoria finished. “You’ll especially love the library, which has over five thousand books.”

Rowena cleared her throat in a very nervous, I-have-something-to-tell-you way. Prudence and Victoria looked at her expectantly.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t completely forthright about my discussion with Uncle Conrad.”

“You mean about something else besides him selling our home from underneath us?” Victoria murmured, and Prudence hushed her.

Rowena glanced at Prudence and then away. Prudence clenched her hands in her lap and tried to smile as a sense of foreboding shivered through her. “Out with it, Ro. You look as if you’ve swallowed a lemon.”

“I feel a bit as if I have.” Rowena bit her lip. “He didn’t want you to come, you see. I don’t know why.”

Prudence felt her smile slip from her face and her body tense. “Yes, you do,” she said quietly. “He feels you are far too familiar with the daughter of a governess who was a former parlor maid.”

“That’s nonsense,” Victoria burst out.

Prudence ignored her. “If he didn’t want me to come, why am I here?” she asked.

“Because I couldn’t bear to part with you. Not now. We need to all be together.” Rowena gave her a pleading look. “So I made a deal with him. I said you would be our lady’s maid, and of course, he couldn’t deny you then.”

The knots in her stomach tightened. “Well, that’s not so bad.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a yelp. “I look after you both anyway.”

The fine line of Rowena’s jaw clenched. “I’m afraid he was very adamant about your being staff and not a guest. I’m not sure what he meant by that, but it sounded rather ominous.”

Prudence licked her lips with a tongue suddenly as dry as parchment. “Is there any reason why you are just now telling me this?”

Rowena looked at the floor. “I was afraid you might not want to come if you knew.”

Next to her, Victoria gripped her hand. “You would have come anyway, wouldn’t you have, Pru?”

She gave Victoria’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course I would have. It’ll be all right.”

“Of course it will. And it won’t be forever. I’ll think of something.”

Rowena tried to sound confident, but Prudence could detect the uncertainty in her voice. She turned to the window. Would she have come anyway? Probably. She’d always had one foot in each world. On one hand, she was Pru, racing through the house with her friends, studying at Sir Philip’s feet, traveling with the family to the seaside. On the other hand, she helped her mother keep the schoolroom clean, and occasionally helped with some of her other duties when it was needed. When Sir Philip was alive, the arrangement had worked and they were all happy. But now everything had changed and she didn’t know where she stood anymore.

The carriage turned a corner and Victoria called out excitedly, “There’s Summerset Abbey, Prudence, look!”

Prudence craned her neck and her heart sank. Slender Italianate spires seemed to reach for the sky, rising from an imposing structure so massive it took up more than a London city block. The grounds around it were so immaculate and severe that Prudence couldn’t imagine a leaf or stone daring to shift out of place. This was no comfortable home where little girls played hide-and-seek in cozy alcoves, or giggled while they devoured savory meat pies. Poets and artists wouldn’t dare argue over their ale while lounging in front of the fire in this household. At this castle, for it was far more of a castle than a manor, everyone knew his place and stuck to it.

When they finally reached the front entrance, Lord Summerset leapt from his coach and came around to open their door. Prudence’s knees ached as she stepped down first. A tall, thin woman in a billowing, old-fashioned black wincey dress stood stiffly before her. Prudence gave her an uncertain smile. Surely this wasn’t Lady Summerset? She jumped when Lord Conrad took her by the arm.

“Prudence, this is Mrs. Harper, our housekeeper. Mrs. Harper, this is Prudence, my nieces’ lady’s maid. Please show her to the servants’ quarters and help her settle in. Her things will be brought up later.”

“Yes, sir.”

The woman took a firm grip of her elbow and led her around the corner of the building. Prudence glanced back in time to see Victoria and Rowena staring at her, their mouths open.

One of the footmen, waiting to help Rowena and Victoria down from their coach, also watched the scene unfold with his mouth agape. He almost started after Prudence but the footman next to him gave him an elbow and he fell back into his stance.

“Where is Mrs. Harper taking Prudence?” Victoria asked, a sense of urgency to her voice, just as Prudence was escorted down a steep set of stairs and through a small side door.

The servants’ entrance.

If she didn’t know where she’d stood before, she certainly did now.

CHAPTER

THREE

L
ady Summerset Ambrosia Huxley Buxton watched the arrival of her new charges from the privacy of her boudoir. Her mullioned window overlooked the front courtyard, giving her the advantage of seeing all the comings and goings at Summerset. She watched as her husband dispatched that troublesome girl with due haste. As he should. It was his fault they were in this mess in the first place. She didn’t like assigning blame, but in this case it was all too clear.

She leaned closer to the window, but the fuzziness around the edges of her sight still wavered. One of the many treats of old age that no one warned her about. Of course, it wasn’t as though one could do anything about it. The alternative to old age was dying young, and while some may think it romantic to die with an unlined face, Lady Summerset had too much common sense to believe it to be true.

“Hortense! Bring my spectacles.” She extended her hand without lifting her gaze from the window. She knew that Hortense had been standing behind her with her eyeglasses the whole time. Of course, Hortense had too much tact to ask her mistress whether she needed them, one of the many reasons why Hortense was one of the most valuable lady’s maids in the British kingdom.

Lady Summerset put on her spectacles, then frowned. It looked as if Victoria was going to cause a commotion. The child had always been melodramatic, but she would let her husband deal with that. Served him right, actually.

Lady Summerset sat down in a side chair in front of the window, and held out her hand. “May I please get a cup of tea? Thank you, Hortense.” A self-satisfied smile crossed her otherwise elegant face. The smile came with the knowledge that the scene below her was one hundred percent not her fault. She had warned, pleaded, threatened, and cajoled all those years ago, but her wisdom and foresight had been discounted as if she were just some “silly” woman. Now here it was in their laps and the danger was too dire for her to even enjoy a moment of comeuppance. She had to find a way to fix it.

Lady Summerset craned her neck to see whether Rowena had exited the carriage yet, for Rowena truly interested her. Every summer, she would await the child’s arrival with bated breath to see whether her earlier promise of true beauty had been ruined by a bad complexion, an unseemly growth spurt, or the plumpness that had plagued Elaine’s childhood. But no, Rowena had grown lovelier with every passing year. Lady Summerset knew that beauty was one of the few powers afforded to women in their world, and she dearly wanted to teach Rowena how to use it. She had begged her poor misled brother-in-law to allow her to turn Rowena out, but the man had balked and had taken the girls abroad when Rowena should have been reigning over her first season. Odious man. Then he had done the same with Victoria, though the younger child, being pale and delicate and prone to outlandish and inappropriate remarks, was not nearly as presentable as her graceful sibling.

But to see such promise wasted was just too frustrating. The situation wasn’t completely unsalvageable, though at twenty-two, Rowena’s freshness was a bit worn, but as she hadn’t been a fixture at all the collective events that made up London’s society, she would still be somewhat of a novelty. And since her Elaine hadn’t been offered for yet, the girls could attend balls together.

Rowena was bending over Victoria with the nebulizer. The little chit had gotten herself into such a state over the maid, she had given herself a breathing attack. Lady Summerset shrugged. She had little patience for Victoria’s histrionics.

She turned from the window, irritation rippling across her shoulders. How like Philip to leave her with a mess such as this. What was she to do with two spoiled young women who were raised among aesthetes, bohemians, Marxists, and God knew who else? It would be a task to marry them both off well, even for someone of her caliber and connections. Of course, after spending all that money on her own daughter’s Swiss finishing school, she had fully expected Elaine to be married in her first year out—but not only had she finished her season without an engagement ring, she professed to having a marked disdain for the institution. A philosophy that seemed to be shared by many of her contemporaries’ children today. She and her friends spoke of it often when they got together—their children’s disinclination for matrimony. Well, never mind that. They thought they were so clever, but soon the young swains would be looking at their partners in practical jokes with new eyes, and the Buxton girls—Elaine’s playful good looks and breeding, Rowena’s ravishing beauty and modern sensitivities, and even Victoria’s delicate countenance and razor-sharp mind—would garner much attention from the opposite sex. Perhaps Catherine Kittredge’s impossibly spoiled boy would be taken by Victoria. Thank God Colin was such a well-liked young man—the fellows were always happy to spend time at Summerset.

The girls had so little awareness of how important a good marriage was. Along with beauty, it was one of the few avenues to power a woman had. Let these suffragettes scream and fight for the vote, Lady Summerset knew that beauty and a good marriage—preferably to a man with means—were the only ways a woman truly could be safe from the horrors the world had to offer less fortunate women.

But the most important matter was to get rid of the maid as quickly as possible. The girl herself obviously didn’t know what kind of scandal she could cause; otherwise she wouldn’t have come here under any circumstances. Her eyes narrowed. Unless she did know and thought she might profit from it? Lady Summerset shook her head. The Buxtons would not stand for being blackmailed no matter what kind of scandal it would cause.

But how could she get rid of the girl without raising the curiosity of her nieces, not to mention her own children? If she took an interest in a mere maid, she would be arousing suspicion. Damned men; they got into these muddles but rarely knew how to get out of them.

“Hortense, I think the blue silk with the cream ruching will do for dinner tonight,” she told her maid.

By not wearing mourning clothes, Lady Summerset was making a very pointed statement to her husband. She would wear black the day of the service, of course, but not a moment before. In all her years of marriage, she’d discovered that matrimony was not so much a partnership as it was a campaign. There were moments of complicity when she and her husband wanted the same thing, but they were rare. She took a deep breath. At least they were of like mind on getting rid of this troublesome young woman.

She held her arms up as Hortense settled her chemise down over her. “The girls have brought their own lady’s maid with them, so you should have no extra duties. Of course, a new servant in the home always disrupts things just a bit.”

Hortense gently turned her mistress toward the mirror to put the corset on. Lady Summerset had a theory that if she
watched
how much difficulty Hortense had in lacing it up, then Lady Summerset wouldn’t be tempted by the raspberry ice or éclairs.

Now Lady Summerset could see her maid’s face. It was oftentimes difficult to tell whether her words made any impression on Hortense at all—it seemed as if nothing she said could change or alter Hortense’s thin, impervious features. Truth be told, Lady Summerset was just a touch intimidated by her impossibly correct, screamingly chic French maid. But she comforted herself with the fact that no other maid had been as pursued as Hortense, and her loyalty was unquestioned. Once, while Lady Summerset was playing bridge with poor Bertie and desperately trying to lose to his highness without detection, Countess Featherington was busy in the upper hall, trying to steal Hortense out from under her nose with a salary so generous that it made even Lady Summerset blink. Hortense had declined the offer and after Lady Featherington had told her of her maid’s loyalty (right in front of Hortense, no less!), Lady Summerset had no choice except to give her a raise.

She watched Hortense carefully. “Of course, you will tell me how the new maid is settling in and if she is carrying out her duties adequately.”

Hortense pulled lightly on the laces and her black eyes flicked up and met Lady Summerset’s in the mirror. “Of course, my lady.”

“Just keep an eye on her. We don’t want her to get the idea that just because she’s new to Summerset the expectations surrounding her work and behavior are any different than they are for any other lady’s maid here at the abbey.”

Hortense smiled automatically, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes and Lady Summerset’s shoulders twitched with displeasure. Really, Hortense ought to be more
grateful
.

“I will make sure your nieces’ maid has the right qualifications, do not worry,” Hortense put in quickly as if sensing her lady’s displeasure.

Lady Summerset’s good humor was restored. “What a dear you are. Thank you, Hortense. I wouldn’t want the poor girl to think she wasn’t welcome here, but a new addition to staff always stirs up such trouble and she is rather unique.”

Hortense caught her eye in the mirror. “How do you mean, my lady?”

“She wasn’t brought up in service. I’m sure the poor girl would find some other kind of work outside Summerset more fulfilling. Perhaps you could get the others to watch her, too?”

“Of course, my lady.”

She watched as her maid expertly buttoned up the side of her underskirt, and sat back down to watch Hortense’s nimble fingers work their French magic with her hair. From the knowing look in Hortense’s eyes, Lady Summerset knew she had made herself quite clear without having to spell it out—make trouble for the newcomer.

What she didn’t tell Hortense was that the future of their entire family rested on getting rid of this girl, posthaste. And if her husband couldn’t do it, then she would have to.

*   *   *

As Victoria ingested the medicine that would help her breathe again, she couldn’t help but think about how much she hated, no,
detested
the sickness that rendered her helpless when she most needed to act. When she had tried to defend Prudence in her moment of need, a fit had overtaken her, leaving her as helpless as a child. How could she ever hope to be an adult when she couldn’t right a simple wrong?

When at last she could breathe again, she handed the nebulizer to Rowena.

“Very well played, girls.”

Victoria’s head jerked up at her uncle’s caustic tone.

“But I’ve already been manipulated into bringing the girl here,” he continued. “Don’t be fooled into thinking I can always be so easily swayed. Victoria, you should go to your room and rest before dinner. Rowena, please make sure the trunks are sent to the proper rooms.”

With his jaw tight, he turned on his heel and strode away without affording them another glance.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Victoria asked, once she could speak.

Rowena stood and straightened the skirt of her black traveling suit. “You don’t understand. He has complete control of our estate until I am twenty-five.”

“You mean we have no money until then?” She frowned.

“Oh, we have plenty of money.” Rowena gave her a grim smile. “We just have no control over it, and we’re in
his
home. Do you really want to defy him in his own home?”

“If Prudence can’t stay with me, I would rather just go home,” she grumbled, taking Rowena’s proffered hand. She struggled upright, her muscles stiff from riding in the coach and her legs still trembling from the medicine.

Rowena sighed. “Oh, Vic. I think this might be the best place for us right now,” she said softly.

The girls stood hand in hand, staring up at the imposing front facade of the manor their father—and generations of Buxtons before him—had been raised in. The Bath stone facing had been weathered to a soft, warm honey color, which lent it the look of an Italian villa rather than an English manor. Gargoyles perched high above the front doors, guarding the entrance from interlopers. When the girls were small, their father had told them the gargoyles’ names were Gog and Magog, and made up stories of their adventures when the sun set and they were released from their guard duties.

As she had told Prudence, most people found the home imposing, but Victoria had always loved every inch of it. “Maybe . . . but what about Prudence?”

Before Rowena could reply, the front door opened and a modish young woman with golden brown hair appeared. She ran lightly across the gravel and gathered Victoria in her arms. “I am so sorry about Uncle Philip. You both must be so desperately sad.”

Victoria let herself be hugged, then stood back and eyed her cousin in shock. “Elaine! Look at you, all stylish and pretty.”

Elaine laughed. “I can’t believe it’s been over a year since we’ve seen each other!”

Victoria couldn’t stop looking at her cousin. Elaine had always been an appealing dumpling of a girl, with pretty blue eyes and a sweet smile, but her shyness had rendered her practically invisible. This freshly polished Elaine, with her hair piled in pretty curls around her face and her newly slender figure encased in a striped, slim-skirted afternoon dress, hardly seemed like the girl she’d played hide-and-seek with two summers ago.