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‘Of course,’ Lily replied, ushering Catherine out of the room before Lady Ravenscar could react. Poor Catherine had no stomach for opposition to her imperious grandmother and it was not merely because she and her twelve-year-old daughter were financially dependent on Lady Ravenscar. Lily wondered if Catherine had always been this way or whether marriage to an impecunious parson, widowhood and now almost a decade under her grandmother’s thumb had leached her will away. Looking at her reminded Lily why she had returned to England after her father’s death in the first place.
Like the intrepid traveller Lady Hester Stanhope, Lily had discovered that life as her wealthy father’s hostess was vastly different now that he was gone, but she had no ambition to end her life an indebted recluse like Lady Hester. She had spent her year of mourning in the house of an aged and distant cousin, which had been even more stultifying than the weeks since her arrival in England. Even after she had come out of mourning, she had discovered there was no role to be played by a young woman of marriageable age unless she handed herself over body and soul to some respectable duenna while society tutted over her advancing years. She didn’t even have the freedom to manage her own inheritance—the lawyers managing the trust, who had obeyed her every word while her father lived, now balked and held her to the rigid letter of the trust. Her father’s death had been a shock on so many levels Lily was still reeling from the loss of everything she valued.
‘It has been three days since Mr Marston has been to visit you. Is he travelling?’ Catherine asked as they climbed the curving staircase.
‘Yes, on business to Birmingham and then he is bringing his daughter back to Bristol to prepare for her debut in the spring.’ The words were stiff and she tried to smile.
‘Are you worried whether she will like you?’
Lily almost wished she had not been tempted to share some of her story with Catherine. It made it so much more inescapable.
‘Mr Marston said she is as lovely as an angel, but that is the least of my worries. I know his offer makes good sense. I had no idea how restrictive life could be when my father passed and it is even worse now I am out of mourning. Everything the Kingston gossipmongers didn’t say while he was alive, they happily whispered over his grave. The only thing that kept them from saying it to my face was the hope I will marry one of their sons. I cannot even carry on with my business concerns because Papa tied it up in a ridiculous trust when I was born and never thought to change it, because he believed he was indestructible. Right now the only thing I have any control over is Hollywell House, or at least I will after probate. I must marry or I shall go mad. Sometimes I wish Papa had left me on Isla Padrones in Brazil when my mother died instead of bringing me to Jamaica and forcing me to enter society. At least on the island I had become accustomed to being alone and having few expectations.’
‘You could always stay here with us if you don’t wish to marry. I know my grandmother isn’t an easy person, but she is not quite as bad as she seems. When Nicola returns to school, it is just the two of us and it can be rather...lonely. I am certain she will agree.’
They stopped at the top of the stairs.
‘That is very generous of you, but I already feel I have encroached too much on our very distant relation. It is only because Mr Marston’s home is in Bristol...’
She touched the little gold pendant at her throat. She knew this feeling. The same one that would catch at her breath every time her father sailed away, leaving her and her mother on tiny Isla Padrones. The world closing on her, shutting her in, but also a sense of safety, of the world reduced to the familiar once more. The move to Jamaica when she had been fourteen had taken away that safety without really opening the world any wider. Her school and then Kingston society had been even more oppressive than the isolation of the island where she had run wild. She had not known how rare the freedom of being alone was until she had lost it.
‘Perhaps I should remove to Hollywell House...’
Catherine’s blue eyes widened.
‘But, Lily, you could not live there on your own!’
‘I could find someone to lend me countenance. My pin money is still generous enough to support a companion. Surely there must be an impecunious relative somewhere on the family tree who would be willing to...’ She pulled herself to a halt at her selfishness. She might be scared of her future, but there were many women whose fates were indescribably worse than hers, or even than Catherine’s.
She had seen that only too clearly the day she had walked into the brothel near the Kingston docks that her lawyers had tried to prevent her from visiting after her father’s death. Any one of those eight women would have traded places with her at the bat of an eyelid. The worst was that the lawyers had made it clear that though she could evict the women from the structure her father had bought, under the trust she could not sign over the house to them. She had done the only thing she could think of—at least her mother’s jewellery was hers outright and she had sold the most expensive necklace and given an equal share to each of the women, much to the lawyers’ shock and dismay.
‘You would do better to marry him, you know,’ Catherine said in her quiet voice. ‘He is handsome and intelligent and I can see you are fond of him and he is very fond of you and he respects you, which is just as important. Otherwise he would not be so very patient and accommodating. Believe me, waiting for a...for a perfect solution usually means waiting for ever.’
‘I know. I probably shall. You should go to Nanny Brisbane before it begins raining again.
Catherine smiled. ‘Grandmama was right, you know. I do want to take a basket to Nanny, but it is true I received a note from my brother. He is coming to visit Nanny and I would like to see him, but I didn’t want to tell Grandmama.’
‘Well, since she is the one who mentioned Mrs Brisbane’s ill health to him at Hollywell House in the first place, she wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Did she? Still, talking about him makes her so crotchety I really would rather not.’
‘I am not surprised. The way he called her Lady Jezebel sounded like he hated her.’
‘That is what Grandfather called her, never Jezebel or Lady Ravenscar. She was an earl’s daughter, so Lady Jezebel was her courtesy title and my great-grandmama, the Dowager Marchioness, insisted Grandfather continue to call her that when they wed because she didn’t want two Lady Ravenscars at the Hall. Then when we returned from Edinburgh, Alan refused to call her Grandmama and would call her Lady Jezebel just like Grandfather.’ She sighed. ‘They will never forgive each other. Nicky and I don’t see him often enough, situated as we are. He did visit Nicky up at her school last month, but I wish...’
There was such weariness and pain in Catherine’s voice Lily wished she could do something for her, at least say something reassuring, but she had never been good at polite lies. Then the moment passed and Catherine opened the door.
* * *
No twelve-year-old of any spirit enjoyed being confined to bed and Nicky was a very spirited twelve-year-old. The fact that she was leaning back against her pillows and allowing a maid to brush her hair was a testament to how weak she was. But when they entered, she sat up, frowning.
‘Sue said Uncle Alan is staying at the Ship in Keynsham! Is it true, Mama?’
The maid blushed under Catherine’s accusing eyes, curtsied and hurried away.
‘Do lie down, Nicky. Lily has been kind enough to offer to sit with you while I take a basket to Nanny Brisbane.’
Lily picked up the book lying by Nicky’s side and smiled.
‘The Mysteries of Udolpho. I haven’t read this in years.’
‘I am halfway through, but my head hurts too much to read.’ Nicky was distracted only for a moment. ‘But, Mama...is Uncle Alan really in Keynsham? Will he come see me?’
‘Nicky, you know your uncle doesn’t come to the Hall.’
‘Then I want to go to Keynsham.’
‘My dear, you aren’t well enough...perhaps when you are better...’
‘No! By then he’ll be gone and I shall return to school and I won’t see him for months! It’s not fair that Grandmama is so evil and has cut him off and is going to leave everything to some doddering, preachy old cousin of Grandpapa’s we haven’t even heard of and doesn’t care a straw for the Hall! It’s not fair!’
‘Nicola!’ Catherine scrubbed her palm over her forehead and then with a gesture of defeat she headed towards the door. ‘We will discuss this later, but right now I must go. I will return very soon.’
Nicky watched the door close, her hands still fisted by her sides and her eyes red from unshed tears. Lily could feel the frustration and confused pain in her own bones. It was around this age that she had begun to actively resent her father’s frequent disappearances. Her poor mother had borne the brunt of her temper as well.
She kicked off her kid slippers and curled up on the bed by the girl, picking up the discarded book.
‘Where were you? Here? “‘Surely, Annette,’ said Emily, starting, ‘I heard a noise: listen.’ After a long pause... ‘No, ma’mselle,’ said Annette, ‘it was only the wind in the gallery; I often hear it when it shakes the old doors.’”’ Lily added a rattling groan for good measure and was rewarded by a faint smile. She kept going, investing as much melodramatic nonsense into the story as she could, rising to a distressed falsetto when Emily hurried to greet the man she thought was Valancourt and promptly fainted when it was not.
‘What a great deal of fainting they do engage in!’ she interjected. ‘I haven’t fainted once in my life, have you?’
Nicky giggled again. ‘No, but perhaps that’s because we haven’t yet been in love.’
‘What do you mean, “we”? How do you know I haven’t?’
‘Have you?’
Lily sighed.
‘No, never. It’s very disheartening, though I still doubt I will faint if ever I am foolish enough to fall in love.’
‘Don’t you want to be in love? I do!’
Lily considered Nicky’s flushed cheeks and the dark eyes glistening with hope. She is merely a girl, Lily. She has time enough to discover the futility of dreams.
‘Well, yes, but I don’t think I shall be very good at it. I am not very suited to adore anyone, certainly not someone like Valancourt. Never mind, let’s discover what horrors and creaking and groanings next lie in store for our intrepid and oft-faint Emily, shall we?’
‘You’re funny, Lily. I wish I had a sister like you.’
Nicky leaned her head momentarily against Lily’s shoulder and Lily blinked against the peculiar burning over the bridge of her nose. Not a sister. A daughter, someone like Nicky who would curl up beside her while she read... And a son leaning against her as well until he was too old for such sentimental nonsense.
She would take them to Isla Padrones and teach them to swim like the gardener Joao had taught her after her father had sent her and her mother to live on the island. Her mother had been frail and despondent after the nervous illnesses that had plagued her in the jungles of Brazil, where her father had been searching for his precious gems, and the Jesuit doctor from the nearby mission had recommended sea air. He had probably meant one of the coastal towns, but her father’s romantic soul had remembered a short visit to the islands of the Amazonian delta and had sent them to one of the smallest. They were supposed to be there only until her mother recovered, but perhaps her mother’s realisation that she was healthiest when she didn’t have to witness her husband’s infidelities had turned a convalescent retreat into a permanent home, regardless of the impact of this isolation on their only child. Ten years after leaving the islands Lily could fully appreciate what was wonderful and horrible about their seclusion there. If... When she had children, she hoped she could show them the pleasures of being alone, but also create a broader world than her parents had provided.
‘Well, so do I,’ she replied lightly, thinking of how often she had prayed for a sibling during those long years. ‘A sister like you, I mean. I always wanted a sister.’
Nicky snuggled closer and closed her eyes with a sigh.
‘I always wanted an older brother, too. Someone like Uncle Alan. You know, dashing and dangerous so all the girls will want to be my friend just so they can flirt with him. Well, they already do even though he’s so old.’
Lily tried not to laugh.
‘Don’t tell him that. The old part, at least. As for the flirting, I am certain he knows that already.’
‘Oh, that’s right, I forgot you have met him. Sue told me he was at Hollywell House when you and Grandmama were there.’
‘Is there nothing the servants don’t know?’
‘Certainly nothing worth knowing. So, what did you think of him? Isn’t he handsome? The girls at school said he was the handsomest man they have ever seen!’
Nicky looked up at her, her face a study of curiosity, defiance and need. Lily tried to tread as carefully as possible over the ground of Nicky’s hero worship and through the unsettling sensations that accompanied the resurgence of the memory of their encounter in the Hollywell House library.
It wasn’t surprising she hadn’t recognised him as Catherine’s brother. She had heard a great deal about the notorious Rakehell Raven since her arrival, but she had still expected him to look more like his sister. Catherine herself was a very handsome woman, but there was a softness to her that had no echo in her brother’s harsh, sculpted face, and though her hair was also near black, it was slightly warmed by mahogany lights rather than the jet sheen of her brother’s that added credence to his Raven epithet.
The biggest difference was in the eyes. Catherine’s were a clear sky blue, slightly chilled around the edges. Her brother’s were a world away, a very dark grey she had at first thought as black as his hair. She had seen such colouring in the Venetian sailors who had manned the ship that brought her to England, but Lord Ravenscar’s face was pure Celtic god—sharp-cut lines of a deity bent on the destruction of lesser mortals. Perhaps his eyes also were merely black and the impression of the complex shades of an evening sky were just an illusion that would dissipate if she had a longer look. Not that she would ever have the chance to examine the man’s eyes, she reminded herself. After his visit to the old nanny, he would probably return to his gambling and womanising and whatever other dubious activities he enjoyed. She smiled at Nicky and told her what she wanted to hear.
‘I think your uncle is very handsome and very aware of his charms.’
‘Oh, it isn’t just that he is so handsome. It is because of the Wild Hunt!’
‘The what?’
‘Haven’t you heard of the Wild Hunt?’ Nicky was practically shimmering with excitement, her ills and aches forgotten. ‘It is said that when the dark huntsmen come riding through the night with their hounds, everyone should hide in their homes or be swept up in the hunt.’
‘Is that what your uncle does? It sounds very tiring.’
‘No, silly, those are just tales. But Uncle Alan and his friends were known as the Wild Hunt Club because they were all very wild and excellent riders and it was said that no woman’s heart was safe around them and no man could win a race or a wager against them because they made a pact with the devil so they would always win. Not that I really believe that silly thing about the pact. That is just what people say when they are envious.’
Lily schooled her smile, a little envious herself—she knew all about the challenges of a girls’ school.
‘I am not the least bit surprised your friends at school are in love with him. I could definitely have used an older brother like him to smooth my path at the Kingston Academy for Young Ladies.’
‘Were the girls horrid to you?’
Oh, God, how did one explain such things to a child? And why was she trying to? It wasn’t like her to share her stories and to do so with a girl half her age...
‘Not horrid, really. My mother had just died, you see, and my father sent me to a school where I knew no one. I was very used to being on my own and I was just a little...well, perhaps more than a little defensive. Like a cornered cat. I even tried to run away several times.’
Perhaps this was a little too much. Nicky’s eyes were wide and compassionate, more like her mother now.
‘That sounds sad.’
‘It was, but it passed. Then I started making friends and it wasn’t so lonely any longer.’
‘I like school. I don’t know any children my age here and at school I have lots of friends who like the same things I do.’
‘Like novels with things that creak and groan and lots of swooning.’
Nicky grinned.
‘Especially novels.’
‘Shall we read some more, then?’
‘Yes, please. And could you do those funny voices? The story is so much better that way. I can almost imagine I am there...’
Chapter Three (#u7443be4a-31f9-592b-83b6-19aaca9813d5)
‘You’ll come by again tomorrow, Master Alan?’ Nanny Brisbane struggled to keep her eyes open.
‘Tomorrow,’ Alan assented and her eyelids sank on a long childish sigh and her worn hand relaxed in his.
There was nothing for it. He could stay in Keynsham for another night, pay a visit to the Hollywell solicitor and come by in the morning before he continued to Bristol. It was the very least he could do for the woman who had all but raised him and his sister and almost lost her life doing so.
Even in sleep Nanny had the face of a devout elf, caught between mischief and adulation. She should have married and had a dozen children instead of being saddled with two sad specimens of the breed. The love that would have spread easily among her potential brood had been concentrated on them and his parents whenever they chose to come out of their little scholarly world and until their deaths from putrid fever when he and Cat were young.
Cat was waiting for him in the low-ceilinged parlour, tidying up the remains of the tea she had prepared for Nanny. He waited until they left the cottage before speaking.
‘Are you certain she will be all right?’
Cat smiled and tucked her hand in his arm.
‘She is over the worst of it and one of the tenants’ wives, Mrs Mitchum, comes to tend to her every few hours.’
‘She looks so frail...’
‘She is getting old, Alan, but she is still strong. It is just this fever. Practically everyone in the region has fallen ill these past weeks, but it often passes as swiftly as it comes, sometimes as briefly as a day, and there have been very few deaths.’
‘Few... Albert was one of them, though. Were you ill as well?’
‘Grandmama and I were, at the same time. She was quick about it, but I was quite miserable for three days. Thank goodness Lily...Miss Wallace was here to help.’
‘The heiress?’ He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.
‘Why, yes. She may not be very easy-going, but she is utterly unshakeable, which is useful in a household descended into chaos.’
‘Unshakeable. I noticed that. From my meeting with her I would have guessed you would dislike her thoroughly.’
‘Well, you are not as clever as you think, Alan dear. Is it strange being back?’
