Secrets in the Mist Read online

  “I’ll write to Mr. Fulton,” I said.

  He nodded, leaving the matter, like everything else, in my hands.

  I sat a moment longer, hoping he would protest, or scold me, or throw something across the room. Anything but this blank stare. But he seemed to have forgotten my presence altogether.

  I pushed up from my seat and hurried out of the study, down the hall, and out the kitchen door. If only I could escape this suffocating weight pressing down on my chest as easily as I could escape the cottage. I pressed my hands to my hips and breathed deeply of the morning air, trying to calm myself. But the longer I stood there, the more furious I became.

  I cursed Mr. Ingles, and Vicar Tilby, and all the villagers of Thurlton. Who had given Father that bottle of brandy at the church? What had they been thinking? Did they want to draw attention to their illegal activities? They had to know Father would drink it immediately. I clenched my fists and considered marching down to the White Horse Inn just to give them all a piece of my mind.

  But almost as swiftly as it came, my anger faded and I slumped down on the threshold, burying my hands in my hair. What did it matter? The damage was done. Watkins had caught Father again and issued an even heftier fine. If we didn’t find a way to pay it, Father would be locked up in the Marshalsea Prison until I could find a way to raise the funds.

  If only I’d had some warning, some way of knowing that Watkins would come again so soon. I should have realized Archdeacon Soames would guess that Father’s drink was smuggled contraband. I should have known he would report it to the Board of Customs. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten so upset at Father for doing exactly what I’d known he would do, then this morning’s debacle would never have happened.

  I lifted my gaze heavenward, biting back tears. For the first time, I was completely and utterly out of ideas, and I didn’t know where to turn. If there were ever a time for Mother and Erik to intercede on my behalf, this was it.

  Chapter 16

  I

  rapped on the front door of Greenlaws and stepped back, turning to stare out over the fens. The late afternoon breeze was soft and blessedly cool, tickling the stray hairs around my face and neck. It was the sort of day that invited activity, and I had taken up the challenge, walking for hours through the countryside. I’d avoided the marshes, not ready yet to contemplate my encounter there the night before. Instead, I thought of Father and the fine, and I’d come to a decision easier than I’d anticipated.

  Though, now that I was standing here, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I waited for the Rocklands’ butler to answer the door, that decision suddenly seemed less straightforward.

  I clasped my hands together and glanced back at the door. It was taking much longer than usual for someone to respond. Should I knock again?

  As I’d approached, I’d noticed that Greenlaws seemed almost as if it were slumbering, quiet and still. None of its usual bustle and commotion could be seen or heard. Had the servants been given the day off?

  I shifted my steps toward the corner of the house, preparing to peer around the side of the manor, when the door finally clicked open.

  “My apologies, Miss Winterton,” the butler told me with a small bow. “If you’re looking for Miss Rockland, you should find her in the garden.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  He nodded and began to close the door.

  “But actually I’m looking for Mr. Rockland.” I cleared my throat. “Is he in?”

  If the butler was surprised by my request, he didn’t show it by even the flicker of an eyelash. “Let me see if he’s available.”

  He stepped aside, so I could enter the front hall. My eyes trailed up over the dark wood around me as if I’d not been in the room a hundred times before.

  The butler gestured to the door on the right. “Would you like to wait in the drawing room?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.”

  I paced across the room, chastising myself for my silly nerves. This was Robert, for goodness’ sake. Not some stranger. But my stomach didn’t seem to receive the message. It fluttered and churned like a flock of birds taking flight.

  I crossed to the bow window, staring out through the rose-colored damask drapes at the shifting light and shadow on the fens below as clouds chased the sun across the sky. It was there that Robert found me, fingering the fine fabric and reconsidering my decision to come here.

  “Ella,” he murmured softly. His brow crinkled in concern. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” I replied automatically, and then shook my head as he took hold of my hand. “Well, no. But…” There was no use pretending anymore. He had seen Father at the church anniversary dinner, and given what I was about to say, it was silly to pretend all was well. But still the words I’d rehearsed stuck in my throat.

  Robert’s eyes swam with sympathy, but rather than comfort me, his compassion stung like nettles. I glanced away, unable to continue to meet his gaze.

  “Oh, Ella, you do realize none of this is your fault,” he hastened to tell me, misinterpreting my discomfort. “No one could think that of you. And the fact that you’ve been contending with this all alone… Well, we suspected, but we didn’t know it was as bad as this.”

  My cheeks heated at the implication that he and Kate had conferred about it, but of course they would have. It was ridiculous to think otherwise.

  “I only feel guilty I didn’t step in sooner,” he went on. “But I knew it was something you didn’t wish to discuss, and I suppose I felt I had no right to intrude on your privacy.”

  I pulled my hand away and paced toward the empty hearth.

  “Was I wrong? Should I have pried sooner?”

  I shook my head. “No. You were right. I…didn’t want anyone to know.” And then realizing how absurd that sounded, I added, “Not for certain, anyway.”

  I stared down at the pristine fireplace, swept clear of all remnants of its last fire. I couldn’t remember the last time the hearth in the drawing room at Penleaf Cottage had been cleaned. It had been so long since we’d lit a fire in that room, saving the costly luxury for the kitchen, bedchambers, and Father’s study.

  “When did it start?” Robert asked, following me across the room. “With your mother’s death?”

  “Yes. Though it grew worse when Erik left and…and then never returned.” I swallowed. “After that, I think he stopped caring.”

  I hated how pitiful I sounded, but it was the truth. And it hurt far more to admit out loud than I would ever have expected, given how much it burned just to think it.

  “When were you forced to begin selling the contents of your cottage?” His voice was gentle, as if he sensed how fragile I felt.

  I wrapped my arms about my waist. I knew, of course, but I didn’t want to admit I’d been bartering off our property for years, praying each piece would be the last. So I turned the question back on him instead. “How long have you known?”

  When he didn’t answer, I glanced over my shoulder to see him shift awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Long enough I should have said something.”

  That realization stung, but only because I’d thought I’d done better at hiding our reduced circumstances. I knew I hadn’t worn a new dress in over two years, but I’d hoped that either he hadn’t noticed or that he would assume we simply didn’t have money to buy new things, not that we didn’t have enough to even keep the things we already owned.

  Then a thought struck me. “Have you bought anything other than the pianoforte?”

  Robert looked to the side and my stomach twisted. “A painting and a pair of pearl earrings,” he admitted ruefully.

  I pressed my lips together. So he’d known for at least six months. I’d sold my pearl earrings—a gift from my mother on my sixteenth birthday, a year before she fell ill—just before Christmas.

  “I wanted to help. You can have them back—”

  I held up my hand to stop his words and turned aside.

  “Ella, I didn’t buy them for mys
elf,” he said, advancing toward me. “You must know that. Don’t be stubborn. You must take them back.”

  “Why? So I can sell them to you again?” I snapped.

  His brow furrowed in hurt.

  I closed my eyes and exhaled forcefully. “I apologize. That wasn’t fair. I know you were only trying to help.” My voice wobbled and I pressed a shaking hand to my throat. “I should be thanking you, not berating you.”

  “I understand. It must be a shock.”

  I nodded. “To say the least.”

  I wondered if Mr. Fulton had been aware who was purchasing each of the items. But of course he was. He’d delivered the pianoforte to Robert a week ago. Had he written Robert directly about the instrument? That would explain the speed of the sale, sight unseen. I knew I shouldn’t have felt betrayed by the solicitor, but I did. He should have told me Robert was purchasing some of our possessions. Even if he hadn’t been aware of my and Robert’s past, he had to appreciate how uncomfortable it would be for me to stumble upon our former property at a neighbor’s home.

  Maybe Robert had convinced Mr. Fulton to let him tell me, for surely he realized with how often I visited Greenlaws he couldn’t hide the musical instrument from me forever. A painting and a pair of earrings were far easier to conceal than a pianoforte.

  “What I don’t understand,” Robert mused, breaking into my thoughts, “is why you didn’t come to me from the beginning when you knew you needed money.” His expression betrayed how wounded he must have felt. “I would have given it to you.”

  I felt my cheeks begin to heat again. “Even while Olivia was still alive?”

  I watched as his countenance changed with the realization of how long this had been going on.

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t do that. We were barely speaking then. And how would it have looked if anyone found out you were loaning me money? Even if it had been directed through my father, I know the insinuations people would have made. And they would have made the same insinuations after her death.”

  Robert frowned, but he didn’t look surprised, and I realized he’d heard this before.

  “That’s why Mr. Fulton recommended you buy the painting and the jewelry and the pianoforte,” I guessed. “You tried to give him money on my behalf, but he wouldn’t accept it.”

  “He said that if you and your father suddenly started receiving money from an anonymous benefactor it could damage your reputation. That you would know it was me anyway.”

  He was right. There was no one else. No one who would attempt to do it anonymously, in any case.

  “Well, I still wish you’d come to me,” Robert said. “We could have figured something out.”

  I dropped my gaze to my feet, trying to gather my courage and stifle my pride to ask him what I’d come here for. He’d offered me the perfect opening. I only needed to open my mouth and take it.

  But before I could speak, he crossed back to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “In a way, this is my fault.”

  I trailed after him, confused by his comment. “I don’t see how—”

  “I promised Erik I would look after you, you know?” His voice sharpened with recrimination and regret. “Before he left for the continent, I promised him I would care for you and keep you safe. But I didn’t do any of that, did I?”

  His gaze swung to mine before I was prepared for it, and I was certain he could see the pain his betrayal still caused me.

  “Maybe I don’t bear responsibility for your father, but I certainly do for you. I should have wed you four years ago as I’d intended to and protected you from everything that came after.”

  His confession stunned me, but far from comforting me, it turned my insides to stone.

  His fingers touched my cheek gently before falling back to his side. “I can’t undo the things I’ve done wrong. But perhaps I can fix them.” His topaz eyes gleamed with hope. “If you’ll let me.”

  I stared up at him, realizing exactly what he was offering me. With one word, all of my worries could be at an end. It was more than I’d ever thought to achieve when I came here intending to ask him for money. With one word, my girlish dreams could come true. I could marry Robert and my future would be secured. No more sleepless nights wondering when our cottage would be taken, or if Father would wake up the next day, or what I was going to do after he was gone.

  Despite everything that had happened in the past, Robert was a good man. He was kind and steady. We would raise a family. Kate would become my sister-in-law. I would continue to call the place I knew and loved home. Robert and I would undoubtedly be content together. And yet his proposal made me feel nothing but sadness.

  I should say yes. It was the wisest, the most logical, thing to do.

  But I couldn’t.

  I didn’t want Robert to wed me because he felt guilty about not honoring the promise he’d made my brother. I didn’t want him to feel responsible for me. Maybe once upon a time that would have been enough, but now it seemed hollow and empty. I wanted more from a husband.

  I wanted to fascinate him. Like Olivia had fascinated Robert. Like the Lantern Man fascinated me. I wanted him to be so intrigued that he couldn’t stay away even if he tried. That I would be the first thing he thought of in the morning and the last thing he thought of at night. That he would be willing to perform Herculean feats just to be with me.

  I would never be those things to Robert. I would be safe and comfortable, and a salve to his conscience.

  Perhaps I was foolish to let such an opportunity go. After all, wasn’t it better to be the mistress of my own house than a governess or unpaid companion, beholden to others for the roof over my head? The thought did give me pause. Maybe Robert didn’t love me, but he did care for me, and I would have our future children to adore. I would also have Kate’s affection and companionship. Elsewhere I might have no one.

  I was nothing if not practical, and so the refusal stuck in my throat.

  Robert must have sensed the turmoil inside me. “I know this is sudden. So don’t answer me now.” He smiled tightly. “After all that has passed, I deserve to wait.”

  I nodded once, grateful for the reprieve. But regardless of what Robert said, I knew I couldn’t force him to wait indefinitely.

  He offered to escort me home, but I declined. I wanted some time to think. However, as I walked slowly away from Greenlaws, I realized I needed to speak to Kate. After everything that had happened four years ago between me and Robert, and the loyalty she had shown me, it would be wrong not to tell her about Robert’s proposal this afternoon. She deserved the right to express her opinion on the matter. In truth, I welcomed it. Anything to help clear the muddle in my head.

  I retraced my steps and veered west of the house toward the garden where earlier the butler had told me Kate was. She might not be there now, but it was as good a place as any to begin looking.

  Greenlaws’ gardens were not vast, but they were lush and almost overgrown. Contrary to her mother, who had liked everything to be trim and tidy, Kate preferred them that way. She’d told me once that she wanted them to appear so wild and natural that one felt as if they’d wandered into the Garden of Eden. Although I doubted anyone would mistake this corner of Norfolk for paradise, I appreciated her sentiment.

  I wandered through the gardens, past the tall ash tree at its center where Kate sometimes liked to sit, but the bench tucked under the shade of its long branches was empty. I turned my steps toward the River Yare next, knowing her preference for the sunny riverbank and the lazy warble of the water. As I neared the river I thought I could hear voices. They were definitely male, but too indistinct to make out exactly what they were saying when they called to one another periodically. They were probably just wherry men plying their barges down the river or even delivering more supplies to Greenlaws.

  I strolled beneath the dappled light of the arbor stretching over the path that led down to the river. Leafy vines and creepers twined around the wooden support posts and beam
s, interspersed with ivory honeysuckle and pale purple clematis. Their heady scent perfumed the evening air, nearly as thick as the filmy shadows gathering beneath the greenery.

  I plucked a clematis bloom, twirling it between my fingers, and I nearly dropped it when a man suddenly appeared at the other end of the arbor. He stumbled to a stop, surveying me through the arching vines. For a moment I thought he might turn back the way he’d come, but then he seemed to settle himself and moved toward me.

  It was the man Kate had jestingly called Hector, the dark-haired wherry man I had first seen delivering supplies here at Greenlaws and then later at the windmill. He was dressed in working clothes—dark pants and tall boots that still dripped water. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal strong forearms.

  I assumed his reluctance in entering the arbor was because he knew he was not supposed to be here, though I wasn’t about to tattle on him for approaching the house through the gardens rather than circling around to the lawn. They must be delivering supplies to the outbuildings beyond the garden. Robert had mentioned something about building a new pier there rather than always having to haul the goods down the riverbank from the dock behind the house.

  He stopped a few paces away and touched his forelock. “G’day, miss.”

  “Good day,” I replied.

  “Be ye lookin’ for Miss Rockland?”

  “Why, yes,” I answered in surprise, though I supposed it wasn’t any great riddle why I was here.

  He gestured toward the house. “She went this way no more than a quarter hour ago.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded and turned to go, but I asked for him to wait. “What’s your name?”

  He hesitated before finally replying, “It’s Jack, miss.”

  Even though I couldn’t see his expression well where he stood beneath a thick shadow in the arbor, I could tell he was eager to be off. “Thank you, Jack.”

  He nodded again and walked away. I watched him go, waiting almost until he’d disappeared from my sight before swiveling to return to Greenlaws.