A chill shivered across Victoria's skin. “Hush, Francine. You’re talking nonsense.” Even so,
she glanced up the winding stairs to
the second level. The sun from the window above sparked off the crystals of the
large chandelier, spattering rainbows across the vast walls. The brilliant
colors were hardly ghostlike, and she tried to shrug off the prickles of
awareness dancing over her body. “My father may have written a few ghost
stories in his lifetime, but I was never one to believe.”
The butler opened the double doors to the drawing
room and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “You may enter, Miss Fawson.”
She nodded to Francine to remain in the hallway. Victoria
stepped across the Persian rug to the black and white checkered marbled parlor
floor.
Her gaze immediately fell to the handsome man
standing by the fireplace. No more than thirty, if that, he held a brandy
snifter and flashed her a dazzling smile, his dark hair gleamed in the sunlight
peeking through the window, and his eyes roved the length of her. Victoria
gulped, suppressing the urge to squirm. To the gentleman’s right, sat the
lovely woman Victoria had met in Exeter a few weeks ago. Bethany Maitland’s red
hair was wound fashionably atop her head with wispy tendrils decorating her
forehead and ears—the vision of every woman’s envy—she appeared more refined
perched in her winged-back chair than she had during their meeting on the
street.
Bethany settled a porcelain teacup on the small
table beside her and swept an assessing gaze over Victoria. “My dear, Miss Fawson.
It’s so lovely to see you again.” She motioned to the man by the fireplace.
“May I present my husband, Roderick Maitland.”
Victoria bobbled an uncertain curtsy. “A pleasure
to make your acquaintance, sir.”
The older woman indicated to the chair next to
her. “Please sit with me, my dear.”
Through quaky nerves, Victoria put on her best
smile and sat in what she prayed was a delicate, ladylike fashion.
Mrs. Maitland patted Victoria’s cold hand. “We
shall have such a wonderful time together, you and I. Earlier I told my husband
what a joy you were when we met.”
Victoria arched her brow. “Indeed? I’m surprised
you found me so interesting. We didn’t converse for very long that day.”
The other woman laughed, the sound forced and dry.
“Nonsense. I found our brief conversation extremely delightful.”
Uncomfortably Victoria smiled in return. “As did
I, Mrs. Maitland.”
Still lingering near the fire, Mr. Maitland
chuckled. “Bethany, you were correct about Miss Fawson. She’s charming.”
For some reason, Mr. Maitland’s cheerfulness
seemed forced as if he was struggling to be nice. Still, it bothered Victoria
to think Bethany Maitland would suggest matching Victoria and Jonathan in the
first place. According to society’s rules Victoria was considered at a highly
unmarriageable age. Being the daughter of an adventurous American novelist kept
her living a life most men did not agree with. That, and most men didn’t want a
woman who possessed the ability to think for herself.
Victoria shouldn’t be fickle. If her upbringing
didn’t keep men away, her daring personality would. Her uncle couldn’t wait to
get her married off and out of his household, so when he heard about Victoria’s
visit to Maitland Manor, it was the first time she could remember that her
relative looked excited.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only person in need of
help in the marriage market. Why else would the Maitlands seek available women
for Roderick’s youngest brother, Jonathan? Why couldn’t he find a suitable
bride for himself? Perhaps he was deformed or severely obese. Inadvertently Victoria
shuddered. Or did it have something to do with the family’s secrets? Gossip
from the Maitland family’s past boasted of dark shadows, and Victoria’s
inquisitive mind couldn’t put them to rest; neither could she ignore the teeming
questions surrounding her father’s relationship with Justin Maitland.
Where is Justin
Maitland anyway? She could hardly blurt out the question seeing as she’d
come to the manor to court his brother. Surely, Justin would make an appearance
before long. According to her father, Justin served as Master of the house and
was indeed, a fine man.
“How was your journey, my dear?” Roderick Maitland’s
melodious voice brought her out of her thoughts. She startled. He’d moved
across the room to stand directly in front of her.
“Splendid.” She shifted back in her chair. “I was
surprised at how far away your estate is from Exeter. Quite a bumpy ride, I’ll
admit.”
“Yes, that’s the inconvenience of living so far
from civilization,” Bethany said. “Would you like to see your room now?”
Victoria smiled. “Do you not want me to meet Mr.
Jonathan first?”
“In due time, my dear.” Roderick helped her stand
then hooked her hand over his arm and pressed it against his side. “My brother
is still out riding and probably won’t return for several more hours. I’ll have
Horace take you to Mrs. White, who’ll show you to your room.”
“Before I go, may I ask a question?”
“But of course, my dear.”
“Is there a chance I could meet Justin Maitland?”
Her host’s eyes widened and his wife sucked in a
quick breath.
Their reaction brought a flush to Victoria’s
cheeks. “I—I’m sorry. Is something wrong?”
“Oh, my dear Miss Fawson,” Roderick said. “I
thought you knew…but my brother died in a house fire a little over a year ago.”
Her heart sank with such force her chest ached. No! Justin Maitland could not be
dead. She needed him to be
alive. He alone held the answers she so desperately sought. He was her sole
reason for traveling to the manor. How else could she discuss her father? Tears
stung her eyes. No wonder he had never returned her letters.
She swallowed hard. “Please forgive me for
speaking of such a painful subject. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Tell me, Miss Fawson.” Bethany scooted to the
edge of her chair, eyes bright with curiosity. “How did you know Justin?”
Victoria shrugged. “I didn’t. My father knew him
and spoke so highly of Justin that I’d hoped to meet him.” She shifted her gaze
from Bethany to Roderick. “Again, I apologize for mentioning your late
brother.”
Roderick patted the hand still hooked over his
arm. “Quite all right, my dear Miss Fawson. May I offer my condolences for your
own loss?”
She nodded and looked away, the agony which must
be painted on her face was real, but hardly for the reason the Maitlands would
suspect. Victoria sucked in a cleansing breath, pondering her dilemma. With or
without Justin she had a mystery to solve. She couldn’t leave. Someone besides Justin
had to know about her father. “Did you know my father, Mr. Maitland?”
“By reputation only,” he replied without looking at
her. “Horace?” Roderick motioned his butler.
“Yes, sir?”
“Kindly show Miss Fawson and her maid to their
quarters. See to it that their needs are met with the utmost haste.”
“As you wish.” Horace looked at Victoria. “Miss,
would you follow me, please?”
As Victoria followed the butler, her maid walked
beside Victoria. Francine’s face was a touch pinker than earlier, and as she
glanced around the hall, her eyes grew wide.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Victoria whispered.
Francine smiled. “Extremely lovely. I’ve never
seen anything so grand.”
A woman with a curvy figure bustled in from one of
the side rooms, her smile stretching from ear to ear. She wore the crisp gray
dress and white apron of a housekeeper. Perhaps in her late forties, the woman
still held a bit of her youth even through the silver streaks lightly touching
her dark hair.
“Good morning.” The woman bobbed in a curtsy. “I’m
Mrs. White, the housekeeper.”
Victoria nodded. “Good day.” Mrs. White surprised Victoria.
Housekeepers were supposed to be pleasantly plump and old…at least the ones Victoria
knew.
“Miss Fawson, please follow me and I’ll show you
and your maid to your quarters.”
Mrs. White hurried down the long corridor,
stopping in front of a closed door where she withdrew a thick set of keys from
her apron pocket and opened the door. “If you need anything or have a problem,
please don’t hesitate to ask me.” She nodded up the hall. “I’ll show your maid
to the attic dormitory where the other servants reside.”
“Oh, no!” Victoria touched the housekeeper’s arm.
“I must have Francine in the room next to me, if at all possible.”
The older servants’ eyes clouded, her expression
blank for several tense moments. Finally she gave a curt nod. “As you wish. The
room next door is vacant.”
Victoria forced a smile to ease the apparent
tension. “Thank you.”
Mrs. White rushed inside, straight to the closest
window. She pulled the tassel cord and opened the green velvet curtains.
Sunlight spilled into the room and Victoria squinted against the sudden
brightness.
Such beautiful chambers. Much better than the room
in her uncle’s little cottage. The bed reminded her of the one she had as a
child, nearly fit for a queen with many pillows and white silk hangings around
the posts. An armoire and two chests of drawers stood along the walls. A small
sofa and reading table sat next to the largest window, and a separate bathing
chamber adjoined the room.
Mrs. White turned from the last window. “You may
rest for a few hours, then I’m quite certain Master Roderick and his wife would
enjoy your company for tea this afternoon. I’ll fetch you then. Mistress
Bethany is hoping Mr. Jonathan will also be there.”
Victoria ran her hand over the downy comforter. “I
look forward to meeting him.”
Mrs. White released a heavy sigh and shuffled nervously,
clasping and unclasping her hands.
Victoria arched her brow. “Is something wrong?”
Mrs. White smiled. “The whole household has been
aflutter, hoping you and Mr. Jonathan will make a fine match, but…”
“But what?”
Mrs. White took a step closer. “There’s something
I must tell you,” she whispered, her dull brown eyes narrow with warning.
“Neither you or your maid are allowed in the East Wing. Under no circumstances
should you wander to that side of the manor. If you’re found there, Mistress
Bethany will dispatch you home with all haste. Do you understand, Miss Fawson?”
Victoria’s mouth fell agape. The Maitlands were hiding something. Determination
to find out what surged like fire in her veins—she was her father’s daughter
after all—she’d search the household from top to bottom after everyone retired.
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