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“But you will stay for some tea before you go?”
“Thank you.” Olivia sat down. “The news about Lord Sywell was shocking, was it not?”
“Yes, indeed.” Annabel shook her head. “There are so many stories going round that it is difficult to know what is true and what is false.”
“My aunt was told that he was completely… naked.”
“There are even more shocking stories,” said Annabel. “I cannot bring myself to repeat most of them, nor do I believe they are true—but it seems that there must have been a terrible struggle.”
“Yes, so we were told.”
“Surely the murderer must have been covered in blood?”
Olivia shuddered. “Pray do not! May we not speak of something else?”
“Yes, of course. How does Lady Ravensden go on? Have you heard from her recently?”
“Bellows fetched a letter from the receiving office at Abbot Quincey earlier today. Beatrice is very well and very happy. She and Lord Ravensden are to visit Brighton next month, and they have asked me to go with them.”
“How lovely,” Annabel said. “You are fortunate to have the opportunity, Olivia.”
“Yes, I am,” Olivia replied. “Had Beatrice not fallen in love with Lord Ravensden, our lives would have been very different. We have more servants to look after the house, and we do not go short of anything. My sister and Lord Ravensden have been very generous.”
“Yes…” An odd expression crept into Annabel’s eyes. She drummed her nails on the arm of her chair. “Your sister was not expected to marry—to make such a match must have been beyond her dreams.”
“I believe Beatrice had no thought of marriage until she met Lord Ravensden. It was truly love at first sight in their case.”
Annabel nodded. Once again, her look struck Olivia as being wistful, even a little distracted, as though her mind were elsewhere. Perhaps she was thinking of the husband she had lost? They had never spoken of him, despite their growing friendship. Annabel did not seem to wish to discuss her past, and Olivia was too thoughtful to ask impertinent questions.
“Aunt Nan says I should go to Brighton,” Olivia said. “She told me I must face the gossips. Of course she does not know how cruel some of the important hostesses can be. I dare say there will be some who will give me the cut direct.”
“But you will not care for them? Lady Ravensden must be received everywhere—do you not think most people will be prepared to forgive you?”
“Perhaps. I shall simply ignore those who do not,” Olivia said bravely. “Now, tell me, what did you make of the Reverend Hartwell’s sermon last Sunday?…”
Olivia was thoughtful as she walked home that evening. It was warm and pleasant as she skirted the walls of the Abbey grounds. How odd to think of it empty and deserted, except perhaps for Solomon Burneck. She supposed the Marquis’s butler was still living there, that he would remain as a caretaker until the new owner arrived.
Who did the Abbey rightfully belong to now? Olivia did not know. Everyone had a different opinion as to what would happen to it, though she suspected that in their hearts most would like to see it return to the Yardley family.
Olivia knew much depended on whether or not an heir could be found, and since no one seemed to know if the Marquis of Sywell had any distant relatives, it was a matter for speculation, and would likely continue to be so for many months.
The fate of Steepwood Abbey did not, however, occupy her thoughts for long. What was she to do with her own life?
Since Lord Burton had banished her to the country, Olivia had refused to dwell on his unkindness. She had resolutely guarded against giving into self-pity, for there was no use in crying over something that was spoiled and could not be mended.
At first she had tried very hard to settle into the life at Abbot Giles. She had quickly grown fond of dear Papa, for who would not? She sensed that her aunt felt her lacking because she did not have Beatrice’s skills in the stillroom and the kitchen, though she was not unkind, and they went on well enough together.
Olivia was not precisely unhappy, merely restless. She did not have enough to occupy her time now that there was no need for either her or Nan to do so many of the tasks that had been necessary when they had only Lily and Ida, and Bellows, of course.
Olivia had been educated as a lady. She had been taught to read and write and to calculate figures; she had studied a little history, a little art and music, and she was proficient at embroidery; she played the pianoforte and the harp, sang, and did a little sketching.
Perhaps if she had married a man with an important title, she would in time have become a brilliant society hostess, her drawing-room the meeting place for artists, poets and politicians. Olivia knew this was very unlikely now. She had jilted a man, an important man, and she did not expect to be given a second chance, since gentlemen did not like to be made fools of, and most would not care to risk a repeat of her disgraceful behaviour. Besides, she would only marry if she found a man she could love, who also loved her—as much as Harry Ravensden loved Beatrice.
So if she was not to marry, what was she to do with herself instead? She was an intelligent girl, and she knew her education was lacking. She did not know many things Beatrice had been taught, but then her sister had been educated at home by their father, who was an unusual man.
Olivia could study at home, of course, and indeed she had begun to borrow books from her father’s library, books she would not have considered opening in the past. Although she was determined to improve her education through reading, she could not help feeling restless. She was in fact a very passionate girl and she needed an outlet for all the love that was inside her.
Olivia was very grateful to Harry Ravensden for settling ten thousand pounds on her. It meant that there was no hurry for her to make up her mind to do anything…and yet she longed for something to happen. If she had been born a man she might have taken up some sort of a profession, but very little was open to her as a female. She knew well that the life of a governess or a companion was a soulless existence, far less pleasant than her own at the moment.
“You are being missish,” Olivia scolded herself aloud. “You lack for nothing…except perhaps a little excitement, a little romance.”
If only she were a man! She would instantly enlist in the army and go to fight with their brave men in the Peninsula.
The Regent’s address to Parliament at the beginning of the year had mainly concerned Wellington’s brilliant victories in Spain. One of his most recent at Badajoz had excited even Papa when he read of it in his newspapers.
“The siege of Badajoz has been attempted several times,” he had told Olivia, “but our men did not have the besieging tools and battering rams necessary. However, this time, Wellington put his men out to sea from Lisbon and then went in secretly in small boats up the river to Alcácer do Sal, and after some fierce fighting the walls of Badajoz were breached. And Lord Wellington will not be content to stop there, believe me. He will sweep the French from Portugal and Spain before he is finished.”
Olivia had been impressed by the heroics of the men who had fought and won such victories. In her heart, she longed for adventure. How wonderful it must be to fight and win for the sake of glory and of England!
She sighed as she reached Roade House, knowing there was little likelihood of her ever leaving the shores of her homeland. The best she could hope for was to visit her sister and Lord Ravensden occasionally, and spend the rest of her time as usefully as she could at home with Papa and Nan.
“It seems unfair of us both to go and leave you here alone,” Olivia said as she kissed Nan’s cheek just over a week later. “Are you sure you will not change your mind and come with us? You know that Beatrice would be happy to see you.”
“I stayed with Beatrice for a few days at Easter,” Nan said. “I am quite content here, Olivia. I shall begin preserving the soft fruits as soon as you and Bertram have gone.”
“And I shall be home within a week,” said Mr Roade, “unless Ravensden wishes me to begin work on our project, of course—but I shall write and let you know. You will be comfortable here, sister. Besides, Olivia could not be expected to travel alone, even though Ravensden has sent his carriage and servants to fetch her.”
Olivia smiled at her father’s thoughtfulness. After Lord Burton had thrown her out, she had travelled from London to Northampton by public coach, and from Northampton to Abbot Giles on a carter’s wagon. No harm had come to her then, though she had been shaken until her body was aching all over, and her heart had felt as though it were breaking. However, her sister’s kindness had soon restored her, and she was grateful now for her family’s care of her.
“You spoil me, Papa,” she said, allowing Lord Ravensden’s groom to hand her into the carriage. “Perhaps we should go? Coachman will not want to keep his horses standing.”
“Yes, yes, no sense in waiting.” Mr Roade beamed at her. “Au revoir, Nan. I dare say I shall be back before you have had time to miss me.” He climbed inside the carriage to sit opposite his daughter. “I must admit I am looking forward to seeing Beatrice and Ravensden. He tells me he has found the diagrams relating to the flying machine of which he wrote some months back. Yes, indeed. It should prove a most interesting visit!”
Olivia waved to her aunt from the carriage window. She found her father’s preoccupation with his rather odd inventions a little disturbing. He had not yet installed another of his stoves at Roade House, though he had told her he was certain that the local blacksmith had not followed his instructions in making the previous design.
“It was the fault of inferior workmanship,” he said now. “I told Ravensden I suspected it, and he agreed. If he thinks it worth his while to let me experiment with my new designs, which I believe he must think exciting…we shall have the stoves for Camberwell forged at one of the new iron foundries. Then perhaps the workmanship will not let my designs down. I am sure that the principle is entirely sound.”
“Yes, Papa, I am sure you are right,” said Olivia, though she really did not comprehend more than a few words when he described his theories to her. “For myself, I am simply looking forward to seeing Beatrice. It seems an age since we were together.”
“At last!” Beatrice cried as Olivia and Papa were shown into the parlour where she was sitting at a small writing-desk. She got up at once and came towards them, arms outstretched to embrace them both in turn. “How glad I am to see you, Papa and my dear sister.”
“You look well, m’dear,” Mr Roade said. “Blooming, I may say. Where is Ravensden? I am eager to see the drawings he wrote of.”
“He was called out on some business…” Beatrice began, but the sound of footsteps in the hall announced Harry’s arrival. “Ah, he is here now…”
There was another flurry of greetings, during which Harry kissed Olivia’s cheek and shook hands with his father-in-law. After a few moments’ brief conversation, the two men withdrew to Harry’s library to study their papers, leaving Olivia and Beatrice together.
“Papa is right,” Olivia said. “You do look very well, dearest.”
“I am,” Beatrice replied and embraced her again. “Come and sit down with me, Olivia, and tell me all the news from home.”
“I told you in my last letter that Lady Sophia is engaged to be married, did I not? And about the terrible goings-on at the Abbey.”
“Yes.” Beatrice looked thoughtful. “I cannot pretend to feel sorry that Lord Sywell met such an unpleasant end; one cannot but think he must have had many enemies…if all the stories about his disgraceful behaviour with the wives of tradesmen were true. I imagine there must have been quite a few husbands and sweethearts who would have liked to see him dead.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Olivia said. “People are suggesting that Lady Sywell might have done it herself, but I cannot believe it.”
“No, indeed,” Beatrice agreed at once. “If she had wished to kill him, she would surely have done so when she ran away…if she did actually run away, that is.” She wrinkled her brow. “I have always regretted that we were not able to finish our search of the grounds.”
“That was impossible after Lord Sywell threatened to shoot first you and then Harry.”
“Yes…” Beatrice shook her head. “Enough of all this gloom and doom. It was really news of you I wanted to hear, Olivia. Have you made lots of new friends in the village? Are you happy and settled?”
“I have made friends,” Olivia said. “I visited Annabel Lett a few days ago, and I went to see Amy Rushmere only yesterday morning. They both sent their regards to you. I think you are much missed in the villages, Beatrice.”
“I write to as many as I can,” Beatrice replied, smiling. “But there is so little time. Harry and I travelled to Ravensden and to his estates in the north, and then we spent a few weeks in London… You ought to have come with us, Olivia. Several people inquired after you, dearest.”
Olivia blushed. “Yes, I was sure some people would remain my friends.”
“Oh, I believe you will find that most are prepared to be kind in the circumstances,” Beatrice replied, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. “I was told several times that Lord Burton was thought to be much at fault in his behaviour towards you. Indeed, Lady Burton has not been seen in town for months. I understand she has taken a house in Bath and sees only a few close friends.”
“Oh, poor Lady Burton,” cried Olivia, her sympathy aroused by this revelation. “Indeed, it was not her fault. She was ordered to cut the connection with me, and had no choice but to obey.”
“I believe she may be suffering,” Beatrice said. “If the chance arises, Olivia, you might want to try to heal the breach with her.”
“If…if she wishes it,” Olivia agreed. “But I shall not beg for forgiveness, Beatrice. I believe that what I did was right—and you must agree.”
“Yes, of course I do,” Beatrice said. “Harry says it was his fault entirely. He should have refused Lord Burton when he first suggested a marriage of convenience, but he was and is fond of you, dearest.”
“Yes, but he loves you,” Olivia said, and smiled at her. “Had I married him and you and he had met at the wedding…”
“It would have been very different,” Beatrice said, then laughed as she saw the challenge in her sister’s eyes. “Well, I suppose we might have felt the same, but we would not have allowed ourselves to give into our feelings.”
“Nevertheless, it was as well that I jilted Harry, and that he chose to follow me to Abbot Giles—was it not?”
“I cannot disagree with that,” Beatrice said. “Your bravery in standing firm against Lord Burton’s threats has given me such happiness, Olivia. I can never thank you enough.” She leaned forward to kiss her sister. “But now I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy to be here with you. I have missed you, Beatrice.”
“You know what I mean,” Beatrice said. “Oh, Olivia, do not tell me that you do not wish to be married. If you could but know the joy of being truly loved! I know you would wish for it.”
“Yes, perhaps I should,” Olivia admitted as she saw the way her sister’s eyes shone with happiness. “I fear I am too particular, Beatrice. Lord Ravensden was not the only gentleman to ask me to marry him. I did not like any of my suitors enough to contemplate marriage. Indeed, I would much prefer to continue as I am…”
“That is only because you have not met the right gentleman,” Beatrice said and smiled confidently. “Believe me, dearest, when you fall in love, you will know…you will know the moment you look into his eyes.”
Chapter Two
“Will you both forgive me if I do not accompany you to Brighton?” Harry looked from his wife to Olivia, an apologetic expression in his eyes. “Papa and I have much to discuss, and I promise faithfully to join you in a week’s time.”
“We can easily wait until you are ready to come with us,” Beatrice pointed out. “We do not mind putting off our journey for a week.”
“No, I see no reason for you to be deprived of your pleasures,” Harry said, smiling at her. “I had thought Papa and I would have settled our business by now, but there is so much to discuss. You will be quite safe, dearest. You will have servants enough to escort you on the road, and your maid, Beatrice. I am sure you and Olivia will find so many of your acquaintance in Brighton that you will hardly notice I am not there.”
“Was there ever such a provoking man?” Beatrice asked, and Olivia laughed. “Very well, my lord. It shall be as you please. I should not wish to spoil your or Papa’s fun. Olivia and I will go tomorrow as agreed, but we shall expect you early next week without fail—shall we not, Olivia?”
Olivia merely smiled at their banter. They were so obviously in love, but sometimes merciless in the way they teased each other. Olivia knew that such a relationship was not for her. She did not know precisely what she was searching for, but she believed the man she could love would be very different…more intense, heroic perhaps.
“Well, I shall leave you to tear my character to pieces in comfort,” Harry said with a wicked look for his wife. “Papa has come up with the most ingenious design for a system of gravity heating, and we are about to inspect the east wing to see how it could best be implemented. It is really very exciting.”
Olivia raised her fine brows at her sister as he went out, leaving them in the sunny parlour, which overlooked a pretty rose garden and was Beatrice’s favourite room in the house.
“How can you contemplate the idea of having your house disrupted, Beatrice?”
Beatrice smiled. “We never use the east wing because it is so very cold. Papa can do no harm there. Besides, I have seen the new drawings. They look as if they might actually work. It is the principle of water finding its own level, you see. Harry explained it all to me. The idea is very much that used in those charming waterfalls you admire in landscaped gardens, where you see all the water tumbling down into a pool and wonder how it returns to the top to start falling again. The pressure of water carries it round and…”
“Oh, pray do not go on,” Olivia begged. “I never understand more than a few words of Papa’s theories.”
“That is because you have not had the benefit of Harry’s explanations,” Beatrice replied, her eyes alight with laughter. “We often discuss such things for hours at a time.”
“Truly?” Olivia looked at her in awe. “How can you bear it?”
“I enjoy listening,” Beatrice explained. “I have always been fascinated by the way other people’s minds work. I suppose that is why I love to gossip.”
“Oh, gossip,” Olivia said and laughed. “Now that is a very different matter, of course. Sophia wrote to me from town. Have you heard the latest about Caroline Lamb and Lord Byron? Truly, she is shameless! Everyone is talking about it…”
Olivia was thoughtful as she changed for dinner that evening. After spending a week at Camberwell, she could not doubt her sister’s happiness. Beatrice no longer spent long hours in the kitchen cooking, nor did she clean, but her influence was everywhere in the house. It was evident that her servants respected her, and her household was impeccably run while retaining a warmth and charm that was often missing in large houses.
Olivia supposed that she might be happy in a house like Camberwell, which happened to be the smallest of Lord Ravensden’s houses. Or she would be if she were married to a man she could love and admire; but somehow her rebellious spirit still craved adventure.
There was a strange restlessness inside her. She had begun to realise that her careful upbringing had been against her true nature. Lady Burton was a nervous, fussy woman, who had raised Olivia in her own image, but as each day passed the girl had gradually found her perception of the world and herself changing.
As yet she did not truly know the real Olivia. The girl who had loved to dance until dawn and flirt with the gentlemen who paid her pretty compliments was still there, of course, but she suspected there was another Olivia waiting to emerge.
“If only something exciting would happen,” she murmured to herself as she prepared to go downstairs and join her family at supper. “If only I could fall in love the way Beatrice has…” She laughed at herself. At Brighton, she was likely to meet the same gentlemen she had known in London, none of whom had caught her interest.
“What are you waiting for, Olivia?” she asked her own reflection in the mirror. She shook her head at her own thoughts as the words of a poem came into her mind. A pale knight wandering lost and alone after the heat of battle…waiting to be brought back to life by a beautiful lady, who would take the shadows from his eyes… “Where are you, my pale knight?”
Her head was full of romantic nonsense! Why could she not settle for someone kind and generous? Why must she always look for something more?
Dismissing her own longings as ridiculous, Olivia picked up her silk shawl and went downstairs to join the others.
Olivia sighed as she glanced out of the carriage window. They had been travelling for three days, having broken their journey by staying two nights with Lord and Lady Dawlish, who were great friends of Harry and Beatrice, in their house near the lovely, ancient village of Bletchingley in Surrey. It was now nearly noon, and they had set out at half-past the hour of eight that morning. They would soon be stopping to take refreshments and change the horses at the posting stage.
“Whoa! Whoa there!”
“What is happening?” Beatrice said, looking surprised as their coachman pulled the horses to a rather sudden and juddering halt. “Can you see anything, Olivia?”
Olivia glanced out of the window. “I believe there is an obstruction on the road. It looks as if someone’s coach may have lost a wheel.”
