My lantern flickered wildly, which meant my worst dread—my fuel source was running out. I hurried up the flight of stairs, when, as if gasping for its last breath, the lantern flame fluttered and abandoned me to darkness. The same feeling of terror as that little girl trapped in a wardrobe returned. Trying to breathe in the stuffy air to try to slow my racing heartbeat and steady myself, I groped blindly along the passage while remembering to be careful that my lantern didn’t bang against the wall. Weak at the knees, I slumped in a forlorn heap onto the floor with my back against some paneling.
For an age, I meditated on what to do next while worrying about someone discovering I was missing. Millie had said she would be returning the baby in two hours’ time. It wouldn’t take long before she had a search party out looking for me. I remembered with disdain the paneling in the governess’ room was open. If Charlotte found out I had been snooping between the walls, I would certainly be as good as dismissed.
Charlotte’s voice startled me beyond the wall closest to me. She must have been speaking to a maid as she entered her bedchamber. All of a sudden, Charlotte giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Charlotte, you saucy little minx, for that I’m going to ravish you until you beg me to stop.” It was a man’s voice.
I gathered Ewan Davenport had unexpectedly returned from his trip away, and now, after so many months apart, he was keen to show his wife the pleasure of seeing her again. After the initial wide-eyed shock of what they had begun doing, the vigorous bed shaking and the headboard banging the wall went on for such a tedious time I yawned. Finally, Charlotte let out an embarrassingly loud groan as their lovemaking session concluded, but it was the conversation that followed immediately after that held me spellbound.
“I doubt the police will ever find out what happened now that the body has been disposed of,” said Charlotte, gasping for breath.
“If that silly bastard hadn’t got himself shot, we wouldn’t be in this worrying predicament.”
“What of the other one? Did he see what happened?” asked Charlotte.
“He told me there was a man and woman involved. The description he gave was that the man was well-spoken and had fair hair, and that the woman was wearing men’s clothing.”
“Could it…? No, it couldn’t be!”
“Who are you suspecting, darling? Do you think it was Albert?”
“No, he was ill.”
“Possibly he felt better and decided to attend the ball, only to confront the men in action.”
“But there was a woman involved,” cried Charlotte. “Certainly from the information you have provided me, she sounds like a commoner. Albert would never spend time with that element, especially if she is inclined to wear trousers.”
“Don’t underestimate him. I know of an older woman he used to go and see, and she was definitely not high society.”
“There is no woman he fancies around these parts, apart from Miss Dorchester.”
“That is where you are wrong, darling. He is smitten with a new girl who was seen here the other day in this very building. Perhaps she was the trouser wearer the other night, as well as a staff member?”
My heart pounded. The girl was me! And Albert was smitten with her?
“What is her name?” Charlotte asked.
“I should be asking you the same question.”
“I do all the hiring around here and the only new staff member to be added to the fold is a personal maid who has not yet met Albert.”
“Apparently, she is a village girl and was waiting downstairs for him. By the way, what is your personal maid’s name?”
“I…err, honestly don’t know!”
“And she is your personal maid? You are being secretive, Charlotte. What is this maid’s specialty? If you don’t tell me, I’ll seek her out myself.”
“You will do no such thing.” Charlotte swiftly changed the subject. “The other man you hired, what if he tells the police of our involvement, should they find the body?”
“No, my darling, he will never say a thing.” The man laughed. “Some of my men bundled him up and signed him up for the navy. Oh, and nice try, you can’t distract me that easy. I shall find out who this maid of yours is!”
“You devil.”
“I know. Now let us make a toast to earning a pleasant sum from those breeding cows, and to little Miss Dorchester’s money!”
Disgusted that the couple celebrated selling Davenport to the Dorchesters and orchestrating the cattle rustling despite the death of a man, I angrily got to my feet; but as I turned to hurry away, the lantern I’d absentmindedly left on the floor caught my foot and crashed against the wall.
“What the hell was that?” cried the man.
I blindly spirited along the passage. I used my hands to guide me. However, I miscalculated the next set of stairs and landed heavily forward. I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out. Managing to hobble upward, to my relief there was daylight filtering through up ahead. I was able to slip into the governess’ room and into the empty nursery a little worse for wear.
Millie had shadows under her eyes when she returned with the little one. I took him into my arms and looked down at the rosy cheeks that were tearstained. Magically, the little boy’s face lit up and he gurgled playfully.
“He only stopped crying when he went to sleep, which was briefly.” Millie sat heavily at the window. “Now look at him, he is the happiest baby in the world. Makes me wonder if he thinks you are his mother.”
“Why do you say that?” I was astounded.
“I believe that babies recognize their mothers by smell and the facial features that stand out. You must look like her. ”
“If it was mine, I’m sure I’d be well aware. And it can’t be my sister’s baby, for I have no siblings whatsoever.”
“You must be a miracle worker.”
Millie reminded me of my clothing downstairs and the option of pressing my garments if I wished before departing ways and leaving me in the company of loneliness. To while the tedium of the afternoon, and to try to push the episode of what had happened in the passage far from me, I did some sketches of little Alby while he slept. The likeness of him on paper was so realistic, I seriously considered taking up drawing children for employment. For the meantime, where would I go if I did? It was hopeless to return to Aunt’s. Perhaps I could go to Vera’s or Jenny’s? No! Staying with either would mean my life would stagnate as it was doing here. The best option, and the scariest one of all, was to save up enough money to live off for a time while in the city, until I was established as an artist. Suddenly, I felt a surge of hope rise forth like a fire within. My dream of being an artist rose from the ashes like a phoenix.
The evening meal had come and gone. Seeing Little Alby was asleep again, I chose this time to go and fetch my laundry, making sure to lock the door behind me. When I reached the basement floor, and unlatched the heavy door into a room that was not the furnace I’d associated it with, I expected to see human life, but there was no one. The only welcoming sight was a lone lamp casting its dim light on trouser legs and garment arms that dangled spookily from the drying racks. I was reminded of the gargoyle-like chimneypiece in the grand hall and the naked victims being dragged down to hell.
“So this is where they left their clothing behind,” I whispered with amusement.
Venturing farther into the room, I worried it would take ages to find my clothing, until I spotted them hanging up in a far corner. Expediently, I unhitched the rope and lowered the rack, and with ease, I dumped each garment into a wicker basket. The stove was still burning away so I went over and set several irons on top; but while I waited for them to heat, a sound came from behind. Was it a maid? I looked about. There was no sign of anyone, not that I could see into the dark corners of the large place. I shrugged it off as being a rodent and laid my clothing on the large ironing table. With a piece of ironing fabric over my pinafore, I began the task of ironing the creases out. Steadily, I did my uniform until I only had a blouse to do, but just as I started to iron this, a pair of large hands covered my eyes.
A man’s voice whispered into my ear, “Guess who.”
My heart fluttered. I replied, “It can only be the man who likes to wear disguises.” The hands dropped away, and when I turned about with a smile, I suddenly let out a cry.
“Oh dear, oh dear, was it the man who has captured your heart that you were expecting?” He clicked his tongue. “If you don’t know already, he has gotten himself engaged to Miss Dorchester. Or have you not heard?” He grinned wickedly as if having discovered a deep, dark secret. “Why of course you have! And you are sorely disappointed. Never mind, you have me now. Now let’s continue where you were supposed to have begun, that is, giving me that body rub you promised.”
“Get away from me, you vermin!” I tried to fend him off with the iron held out before me, but he grabbed my wrist and the iron bounced down onto the table.
“You’re a stupid little bitch! Did you think it was funny sending the butler in place of you, eh? For that, I’ll punish you so hard that you’ll be walking bow-legged for a week.” With all his strength, he shoved me upon the ironing table. I, on the other hand, wriggled and kicked and tried to escape.
“You filthy little whore! I’ll fix you once and for all.”
The blow of his bunched up hand caught me below my ribcage. Winded, I gasped for air unable to fend the man off as he climbed up onto the table and straddled my body. Singlehandedly, he undid the buttons of his trousers in between his frustrated grunts and cuss words.
What was I to do? Desperately, I cried, looking at the door as if someone stood there. “Please, help me!”
Tall-and-Lanky sat up and turned his head sharply to follow my gaze, but when he saw there was no one behind him, he turned back to me with an evil grin.
“You tricky little—”
He was caught by surprise when I brought my forehead hard against his chin, a trick I’d learned from my cousins that made him recoil backward. I grabbed the iron that he had hit out of my hand, and with one almighty swing, brought its heated surface against the side of his long face. He screamed in pain and ran over to a washtub, while I made my expedient exit back to my nursery sanctuary.
My eyes brimmed with tears. I had narrowly escaped from being raped, but how long was I going to remain safe? Inevitably, there would be a next time when that filthy man would get his way. My thoughts raced. I thought about why Charlotte had not told her husband about a nursery maid. Surely, Ewan Davenport ought to know about his nephew’s secret as well. Perhaps, in an odd sense, Charlotte might be my savior. Her determination to keep the child secret would mean she would have to protect my whereabouts from the likes of the man I’d just run from.
The clock read ten thirty. Still restless, there was one mission I needed to do tonight. I grabbed the nursery lantern, seeing mine was lost somewhere in the secret passage, and this time checked there was enough paraffin oil in it. Taking to the governess’ room, in no time, I stood by the secret panel outside Davenport’s room, where lapping water was heard on the other side. I slowly moved the panel aside and saw through the swirls of heated mist Davenport lowering himself into the bath. When his head disappeared beneath the rim of the bath top, I entered the stifling room, and looked down on what could have been his dead body beneath the water. It was a matter of waiting patiently for him to re-emerge into the land of the breathing, so I gave him the dignity by looking away until he resurfaced.
The water rolled off his face with the help of his hands, but when his gaze met mine, he sat up promptly. “Maria, what the hell are you doing in here?” He snatched his hands to his private parts.
“Don’t worry; I’ve seen it all before.” I flapped my hand and kneeled casually beside the bath.
He cried, “What do you want?”
“I’m here to warn you not to go ahead with the marriage.”
“Is that what you are here for? Is that why you are intruding on my private time?” He struggled to restrain his voice from yelling. “I have no desire to take heed of your advice.”
“Well, you will when I tell you why.” I did not give Davenport time to answer. “Your aunt has sold you to Mr. Dorchester. It’s all a money deal. She convinced you to marry his daughter because he was paying her to convince you to do so. The second half of the payment will go down when you go on your holiday abroad.”
“That is a preposterous accusation. How dare you speak ill of my aunt!” He had resigned his modesty, placing his hands on either side of the bath, ready to hoist himself out. “I think it is because you are jealous, that is why!”
“What, me jealous?” I laughed, but it was the truth. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just telling you what I overheard.”
“The marriage will proceed. No one will prevent it, especially you! And for your information, I find Miss Dorchester an attractive young lady, a little too reserved for my liking; nevertheless, she is pleasant enough, and not feisty and argumentative like a certain creature I know.” He looked me up and down with distaste.
“Huh! You are not in love with Miss Dorchester, are you?”
“It is none of your beeswax whether I am or whether I am not.” Davenport sat back in the bath, grabbed the soap, and lathered a large sponge before vigorously applying it to his arms and shoulders. The overpowering fragrance was exactly the same that was in the governess’ room the other night.
“You don’t love her, but you are in love!”
Davenport dropped the soap and pointed the sponge at me, “You know what? You are an audacious creature.”
“You can’t deny it, can you?” I smiled. “Your uncle knows you are smitten with another; I overheard him telling your aunt, and I heard him say she is a village girl.”
“That’s a load of hogs wash; my uncle is still away in Africa.”
“Well, if it isn’t your uncle, it is somebody else, and that means your aunt is having intercourse with another man!”
“If it wasn’t for you being a female, I would thump you right here and now.”
Ignoring his threat I continued, “Oh, and guess what?”
“Don’t ask me that silly question.” Davenport scraped around for his soap, and his face was crimson.
“I’ll also tell you that your aunt and uncle, that is if he is your uncle, are both in cahoots with the cattle rustlers, or what’s left of them!”
He sat still like a statue with the soap in his grasp. He glared at me. “Damned liar; you are trying to poison me against my aunt. Is this what you resort to, because you can’t bear the thought of me marrying another?” He sniggered and rubbed his sponge viciously against the soap.
I climbed to my feet, and yelled, “I was in the secret passage. I heard them speaking in her bedchamber, just like I heard the conversation between her and Mr. Dorchester while you took the fine young ladies”—I said sarcastically with my hands on my hips—“about your humble little garden. You are nothing but an asset in their eyes. You are an heir who is losing his wealth and his right to choose what he does with his life to utter criminals!”
“I have heard enough, now leave!” Davenport yelled, absentmindedly pointing his sponge toward the doors leading to his bedchamber.
I snatched up his fluffy towel, which had been draped neatly over a chair, and launched it heavily into his face. I wanted to scream, “You fool, you fool,” not caring to shut the wall panel back into place. Why couldn’t he see he was making a huge mistake marrying a girl he didn’t love? It didn’t matter about the answer. He did not return upstairs to give me a piece of his mind as I’d hoped. The remainder of the wakeful part of the night was consumed with what had happened in the last few hours; accompanied by the ache in my abdomen where my attacker had punched.
»»•««
Between the tedium of staying upstairs, there were the highlights when little Alby reached a milestone. His inherited self-determination had him moving about like a caterpillar on his belly much sooner than the average baby. A new routine had been introduced by the lady of the house also, which I always looked forward to, and that was taking the little one out on fine days during luncheon, and when it was safe to avoid people. If anyone happened to approach us, thanks to my mistress’ instruction, I already had an answer—the baby belonged to Lady Charlotte’s relative, who had taken ill. I was able to take little Alby out in the perambulator for a walk about the garden. Sometimes, Millie accompanied me; if not, I would walk about the flowers and inhale the beautiful scents. I wondered what flower was Miss Dorchester’s favorite; should I have known, I would have secretly uprooted one and left it to die somewhere she might frequent, which was often. My jealousy got the better of me, thanks to Millie’s information morsels, now Davenport and his bride spent a lot of time in each other’s company. To show his commitment, after the night of my rude intrusion, he did not make his nocturnal upstairs appearances anymore.
During one of these midday strolls, on a particularly hot autumn’s day, I ventured to the extremity of the garden, toward the tree park that gave us shelter from the sun. I sat at a bench seat and rocked the perambulator back and forth until Alby drifted to sleep. I was about to close my eyes and enjoy the fresh scent of blooms when voices came from the trees somewhere behind. Covertly, I left my charge sleeping peacefully and stole my way along to the nearest tree trunk. I had to duck backward and peek about the tree to view the two people standing face-to-face.
I could not mistake that the man whose back faced me was Davenport, but I could not identify who his companion was. I gathered she was his bride-to-be, for Davenport’s arm rose and remained there for a moment, indicating he was touching her face in an affectionate manner. I braced myself to control the flood of jealousy coursing its way through my veins, expecting him to do the very act I dreaded so much, and that was to plant a kiss on her lips. Instead, horror replaced the jealousy as he pulled her into his arms, and I saw in full-view her full lips, mouthing, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
A loud scream from behind me reflected how I felt. I bolted back to the baby to find him crimson-faced and banging his fists and legs about. Not stopping to tend to him, I sped back to the house as fast as the perambulator’s little wheels would roll, knowing Davenport and she would have seen me, and that he would be fixated on confronting me later. Oh, how I wished in that moment that I had never come to Evercrest. More vehemently, I wished I’d never met the heir.
The baby’s carriage was left with Sally without as much as a thank you on my behalf. I hardly noticed little Alby looking at me with big blue eyes as I hurried up the servant stairs. My thoughts were wrapped up about the young woman with Davenport. The sickening blow was that she wasn’t Miss Dorchester, but she was the village girl who had been seen downstairs, the one Albert was supposedly smitten with. To think I mistook her visit as wanting to pass a message on to me from my aunt. I was livid and humiliated that she was the one, and not me who he was in love with!
Charlotte took me by surprise where she stood, looking out the nursery window. She turned to face me and smiled warmly, which did nothing to sooth the tempest raging in my mind. “I have noticed that you are doing exceptionally well with the little one,” she said pleasantly.
“Thank you, milady,” I said, trying to sound composed as my lungs heaved like a racehorse. Had she seen me running along the garden path with the perambulator going faster than was permitted? At least the motion had settled the screaming baby.
“I have purposely sent Millie away to do other chores, because…well, she is not a maid I can entrust with certain information. It is you that I wish to speak with alone.” I watched as she glanced out the window. “I sense that you are someone I can trust. Just look at the little one…” Charlotte glanced briefly over her shoulder at the baby in my arms, who tried to reach for my hair. “Do you know what I believe, Smithers?”
“Sorry I don’t, milady.” I involuntarily shuddered.
“I believe babies, just like animals, are very perceptive when it comes to people, meaning he trusts you, therefore, I should do the same.”
“Why, that would be an honor if you did, milady,” I lied.
Charlotte sat and angled her body in the window seat. She clasped her hands and fixated on a view that could have been one thousand miles away. I, meanwhile, admired the profile of her face—the straight nose, the perfectly defined lips, set in an oval face.
“The child’s name is Simeon. It is not a name that belongs to the Davenport family. It was a name of the mother’s choosing.”
“It’s a lovely name,” I said.
As if Charlotte hadn’t heard my comment she continued. “The mother…well, I can’t tell you her name just yet. The reason that she can’t be with the child”—I secretly mused, Is it because she’s a vagrant?—“is because she is confined to a hospital. She has not coped since the birth, why I have personally put in place permanent care for the mother, for as long as she lives.” Charlotte cleared her throat.
“That is sad,” I said impulsively, shocked at the thought that the mother of the little baby, who gurgled happily up at me in my arms, might never recover from an ailment I wasn’t game to ask.
She turned her icy eyes to me. “The father knows of the child’s existence.”
“Does his fiancée know?” I blurted.
Charlotte remained as poised as a rock while quietly studying my face. She glanced back out the window. “Miss Dorchester is a most affable young lady. It pleases me that she and her parents are prepared to welcome Simeon, in spite of him being illegitimate. Miss Dorchester told me she loves children and looks forward to bringing forth many.” Charlotte smiled, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as if she were the groom’s actual mother. She looked my way, and for a brief moment, I thought I captured a glint of mockery in her eyes. Perhaps it was my jealousy playing tricks with my logic; the fact of the matter was that it was no longer Miss Dorchester I disliked, but my childhood friend.
“I suppose they will have another nursemaid?” I said, trying to conceal the hopefulness in my voice. I couldn’t bear to be a nursemaid for Albert Davenport.
“You are the only one who can handle the child; therefore, your position as a nursery maid is guaranteed for as long as you desire to remain as one. I have already put in a good word to Albert’s fiancée and her mother, advising them that you are a young lady I approve of for the care of young children.” With that said, Charlotte arose to her feet and left me without further acknowledgment.
“Not if I can help it,” I whispered beneath my breath.