‘So this is where you come when you are not haunting my library.’
Rebecca jumped a little at the sound of his voice, which, admittedly, did reverberate more than expected in the empty conservatory. He smiled reassuringly, approaching slowly so as not to scare her, though she looked more frightening to him in that moment. She had the look of a wraith, only the outline of her visible against the glass and the twilight.
‘I might’ve guessed.’
‘My lord,’ Rebecca said. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘But, please, do not even think about running away,’ he said, coming to stand beside her, directing his gaze out into the night in an attempt to make her more at ease. ‘I always loved this place, though when I was a boy it had more the air of a mysterious tropical jungle than now.’
‘It shall see better days, I’m sure. At least Mrs Murray has kept some life here.’
‘Ah, yes, the winter garden,’ Liam said, gazing to the far corner, which had been appropriated by his cook. ‘Most irregular, but then, who am I to say anything... I’m surprised you didn’t go with the others.’
‘I admit I preferred a quiet night, my lord. And I can see the bonfires well enough from here,’ she said, pointing towards the village below.
‘Ah, yes, right you are.’
‘And you, my lord? Not one for Guy Fawkes’s?’
‘I’m afraid not, Mrs Hardwicke,’ Liam said with a hollow chuckle. ‘I liked it well enough when I was a boy, but now...I do not think I would be as welcome, lord of this land as I am. Though I do enjoy fireworks. Do you think they shall have any this year?’
‘Indeed.’ Rebecca smiled, drawing his attention back to her.
She seemed so different in this light, in this moment. Relaxed, open, even. And yet there was still always a wariness in her eyes. Not of him, but of something more.
Would you let me ease your burden as you have eased mine? he longed to ask.
‘I have it on good authority from Gregory that this shall in fact be the best display in many years,’ she continued. ‘Though he might’ve been saying that to convince me to go.’
‘Yes, most likely.’
Liam stared out towards the village. The bonfires looked like nothing more than torches from here, though he could almost feel their heat, and hear the chants and songs of those dancing around them. An image appeared in his mind’s eye then, one, rather beguiling, of the restrained Mrs Hardwicke dancing around bonfires, hair unfurled, spirit free.
‘They are meant to ward off evil spirits, and bring luck,’ she offered after a moment. ‘At least, that is what the Chinese believe, I think.’
‘You are very knowledgeable, Mrs Hardwicke,’ Liam noted, studying her profile.
If he’d thought her ethereal before, that first night in the library, now... In the moonlight, the sharp lines of her features accentuated by the shadows of the night, she seemed almost an asrai, translucent creature of the night who might fade into a pool of rainbows should the sun touch her.
‘Wherever did you learn such things?’
‘Are housekeepers meant to be dull in your opinion, then, my lord?’
‘I meant no insult. Ah, I deserved that, I suppose.’ He grinned, spotting her own smile. ‘So, tell me, where did you learn such things?’
‘Everywhere, really.’ Rebecca shrugged. ‘I have always enjoyed learning about the world, and... Well, I did not have a privileged upbringing, but by the grace of the Lord, I was given a second chance. Oh, look,’ she exclaimed, pointing towards the skies, her eyes briefly alight with childish excitement. ‘Your fireworks, my lord.’
‘A most worthy display,’ Liam admitted after a moment. ‘And I dare say it is most pleasant to watch them from the comfort of one’s own home. So...you taught yourself, then?’
‘Everything I could,’ she said, and Liam saw that darkness pass over her eyes again. ‘Taught myself to read, and my sums, even embroidery, languages, sketching... All so that I might improve my station. I also worked for some good employers. Mrs Chealton, for instance, she was a lovely woman. Taught me the pianoforte so that she might hear music every night... She would lend me books, too, and then we would converse for hours about them... She first had me read Frankenstein when it was published.’
‘Ah, I see... And your family? What do they think of you now, I wonder?’
Liam instantly knew he’d asked the wrong question, recalling that she had no family, and cursed himself inwardly as she turned away, wringing her hands. He made to place his own hand over hers, but stopped himself in time, and instead raked his fingers through his hair.
‘I am sorry.’
‘There is nothing to be sorry for, my lord,’ she said with a strained smile. ‘I like to think they would’ve been proud.’
‘I’m sure they would,’ Liam said gently. A thought occurred to him. ‘What Mrs Ffoulkes said, that is, you speak like a southerner, but...’
‘I am from here. Something else I taught myself,’ she sighed. ‘Born not thirty miles away.’
‘Something which you have been careful to keep secret. It’s why you didn’t go to the village tonight. You never go, do you?’
Rebecca looked over to him, as though calculating odds. Liam’s eyes narrowed, questioning, and she nodded sadly.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ he whispered, sensing she was ready to tell him her tale.
‘And if I wish to?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Do you?’
‘Yes... I do.’
Liam nodded, and waited, her demonstration of trust touching him deeply.
She took a breath, preparing herself to speak of whatever haunted her. He wondered for a moment how wise this was, to encourage such revelations, but he also wished to know. Wished to be there for her, as she had for him. Wished to know her better, no matter the danger.
‘I was born a farmer’s daughter,’ she began, crossing her arms as though shielding herself. ‘A rather improper young girl. Running amok around the countryside, fishing, climbing trees, generally causing mischief... My father said it was because I had no mother. She died giving birth to me. When he passed, my uncle took me in. He was the only family I had, and he was... Well, suffice it to say I only got worse, spending more time outside than in. This once, I got stuck up a tree. My dress tangled in the branches and I couldn’t free myself. I never believed in fairy stories, not until that day... The son of a neighbouring lord passed by, and heard my cries. Rode up on a white horse, if you can believe it. Really did have the air of a prince.’ Rebecca raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. ‘He got me down, took me home. I was so scared—my uncle would be furious—but my prince offered to speak to him, calm him... How could I have imagined?’
‘Your uncle, he was a brute?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Rebecca said flatly. ‘Drunkard, gambler. Horrible licentious swine. Wasted away everything my father had built. But he was nothing compared to my saviour. When he took me home, I rushed to clean myself up, before my uncle could see and tan my hide. I was quick, though—I wanted to see my prince again—and that’s when I heard them. Discussing my price, and the details of my collection.’
‘Your uncle sold you?’ Liam asked, aghast.
Of course he’d heard of such things happening, but the knowledge did nothing to assuage his anger at the idea of it happening to her.
‘He needed the money, and had little love for me...’ Rebecca shrugged, as though the pain were not as fresh as it had been, which it undoubtedly was. ‘They agreed that my prince should return in the morning to collect me, once he’d made arrangements for my keeping. I knew I had but one chance—knew well what would become of me should I stay. That night, I ran. Walked for days until I made it to the city. I was lucky again, found a place as a scullery maid...’
Taking a deep breath, Rebecca scanned the flashes of colour in the sky, unseeing, lost in her memories. Liam clenched his fists, a strong desire to wring some necks rising.
‘I thank whatever powers above daily for the chances that were given to me. So many things might’ve been different if I had not been so fortunate, and so many are not. What if he had taken me in the woods? What if I hadn’t heard them, or if I’d been found? What if I had succumbed to the trials of living on the streets?’
‘How old were you, when...?’ Liam asked after a long moment of silence, the simmering rage in his breast somehow contained. ‘When this happened?’
‘Fourteen, my lord,’ she said, finally meeting his gaze again.
‘Dear God... Animal,’ Liam blurted out before he could stop himself. ‘And you continue to change places, to run, but...’
‘Why should I? It’s all right,’ Rebecca said with a faint smile as she heard him curse himself, very audibly this time. ‘Why still run, when I was nothing more than a peasant a lord once tried to buy? For one thing, I had to remain hidden until my majority, lest my uncle drag me back.’
Liam saw the flicker of fear in her eyes and steeled himself, waiting for the rest.
‘Two years after I left, I was working as a housemaid in Norwich. I liked it, even thought I might stay there forever. I had friends.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I was returning from an errand, and there was my prince, striding right up to the front door. I stayed hidden, for hours, until I managed to get a message to one of the girls I worked with. She brought me my things, and told me his arrival was no accident. He’d come for me, armed with some tale of being my lost brother. I fled as far and as fast as I could. That is when I became Rebecca Hardwicke.’
Rebecca drew in a deep breath, and stared unseeingly at the glass before her.
‘I was careful, I covered my tracks, I kept moving, years passed... Over time, I became complacent. I took a position in London, even though I knew that was where my prince usually lived. It had been twelve years...’ Rebecca laughed mirthlessly and shook her head. ‘I quite literally ran into him on the street. There was, this look, in his eyes. A promise. I had not been forgotten, and I would never be free. He would make me pay. I was lucky again that day,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘I lost him in the crowd, and disappeared again. It will never end.’
‘And you’ve never had a desire to settle down, been tempted? Somewhere quiet?’
‘I suppose I could find some remote village, but would that not be another cage? I have a life, better than I ever dreamt of. Independence, and freedom many women can only imagine.’
‘If you met someone...’
‘I could never ask someone to give up their life for me. And I have never met anyone I cared enough for to be tempted. Well,’ she sighed. ‘Now you know. The truth.’
Liam nodded despondently and looked out onto the gardens, now a brightly glittering rainbow of colours in the fading lights of the fireworks finale.
He wished the man who had forced her into this life was before him, so he could show him the true meaning of suffering. He wished he could hold her hand, or hold her, swear that he would keep her safe, protect her. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right, and she wouldn’t accept it. But even so, he promised to himself. That so long as she was here, in his life, he would keep her safe.
She was his employee. He owed it to her as much as he owed it to the others.
Yes, that was all it was. And he liked her, no denying that. So he did not want to lose her.
Like he’d lost Angus, and Peter, and Hal.
Like he’d lost everyone he had ever cared about.
‘Perhaps,’ he said finally, ‘one day you might find someone willing to share a life, any life, with you.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘I thank you for trusting me with your tale, Mrs Hard—’ Liam stopped himself. ‘Might you share with me your true name? I shall not use it, unless in private, I promise.’
‘Merrickson.’ She smiled. ‘Rebecca Merrickson.’
‘Mrs Ffoulkes,’ Liam said, fully understanding now. ‘The man she spoke of...’
‘One of my mother’s cousins, I suspect. Some scandalous marriage as I recall.’
‘She won’t say anything, to anyone.’
‘I know... It’s just...’
‘I understand,’ he said gently, and Rebecca smiled gratefully. ‘Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Merrickson,’ Liam said with a bow of his head.
The chiming of the clock reverberated loudly through the hall, and all the way through the conservatory, bringing them back to themselves.
‘I should return downstairs. The others will be back soon,’ Rebecca said, pushing the past back to where it belonged. ‘Good evening, my lord.’
‘Good evening, Miss Merrickson.’
A tiny curtsey, a rush of skirts through the plants, and she was gone.
Liam remained there, watching the landscape fade away into colourless night, for a long while. Even the bonfires seemed to have dimmed now. He should have asked her, he thought belatedly, who the man was. The one who had tried to buy her virtue, her life. Though he sensed she would not have told him. She had already trusted him with so much. Too much, he knew she must feel, for had he not felt the same?
Instinctively, he knew her tale had not been shared before, and it filled him with pride that she should with him. Filled him with longing, to know it all, to know her fully, and for her to know him.
How tempting it would be to share the rest of his sorry tale with his elusive little housekeeper. She had seen many of his secrets already, and not shied away. For someone who had seen and experienced the wickedness and depravity of men, she had not been afraid of him, nor his demons. She had not been afraid of this house, of its secrets and its ghosts, as so many had before. She could see past the surface, see the truth beneath.
And yet he could see the danger there again. Of fostering, of allowing a closeness beyond the bonds of master and servant. Of fostering a bond with her. But he had not had a friend—a true friend—in so very long, was it not worth the risks? Surely it would hurt no one, a discreet, honourable friendship between them, at least for as long as he remained here. Her presence had made life at Thornhallow bearable, even in those moments when he’d felt she made it worse. Why should he question the sense of it all? There was no one here but themselves to judge.
Liam pondered it all relentlessly, and it wasn’t until the conservatory was gloriously bathed in moonlight that he finally made his way to the library, decidedly too preoccupied and unfocused to deal with anything more.
A book, he decided, and a dram of whisky, would set him right again.