Demon of Mine (2 page)

Not that any of it really
mattered to her. She wouldn’t be showing up for her shift at the
textile factory today.  She wasn’t sure what she was going to
do, what she
could
do, but she couldn’t possibly stomach twelve hours of working
her fingers raw in the sweltering factory, only to come home to a
pile of ashes. Not while the stench of her parents’ burnt bodies
still teased her nostrils, launching her stomach into upheaval at
random intervals.

Mr. Remington’s voice carried across
the narrow street as he spoke. “Are there any
survivors?”

“
Just a girl, sir,” said a
simpering man Elsie vaguely recognized as another of her
neighbors.

A second shiver raced down her spine
as Mr. Remington turned and fixed his gaze upon her. She was still
crouching, unprepared for his attention.

The younger Remington turned too,
fixing her with exquisitely dark eyes. Though they were the same
color as his father’s, they seemed somehow warmer. Elsie was
surprised to find her heart skipping a beat as she met his gaze.
“Hellspawn,” someone muttered behind her, barely
audible.

Mr. Remington looked away, no doubt
already forgetting about Elsie.

His son looked away too, breaking eye
contact with her and meeting his father’s gaze instead. “What will
she do, father?”

Elsie’s heart seized as the younger
Remington spoke, and she felt filthier than ever in her dingy dress
when his father shot her a quick glance. “That is none of our
concern. Doubtless one of her neighbors will take her
in.”

“
And what if they cannot
afford to do so?” The young Remington glanced around at the squalor
that surrounded him, frowning as if aware that none of Elsie’s
neighbors could afford another mouth to feed.

“
Then it is still none of
our concern.” Mr. Remington turned as if to climb back into the
carriage.

His son laid a hand on his elbow.
“Mother was just saying the house needs a new scullery maid.
Perhaps she’d find this girl suitable.”

Mr. Remington frowned, shrugging as if
to rid himself of the annoying matter. “Very well, if that’s what
she wants.” He eyed Elsie again for the briefest of seconds,
somehow managing to look both doubtful and disinterested at the
same time. “Ask your mother when we arrive home, and if she
desires, have a carriage sent for the filthy urchin.”

And then they were gone, the carriage
horses’ hooves clapping against the cobblestones and the large
wheels shining in the sunlight as they spun. Elsie remained
kneeling in a puddle of dirty water, not daring to hope and unsure
of whether she should.

Seven Years
Later

Chapter 1

Elsie glared at Mrs. Remington’s
finest bone china, daring it to tremble on the silver tray she was
carrying. She’d already broken two of the exquisitely painted cups
last week, and she didn’t dare ruin another. Mrs. Remington was
fond of them. When she was satisfied with the steadiness of her
hands, she pushed open the antechamber door with a hip and
carefully carried the tea tray inside.

Mrs. Remington was sitting on a
burgundy damask sofa in the middle of the room, her posture
straight and perfect, as usual. Her long copper hair was arranged
in an elaborate knot, and several loose locks streamed over her
shoulders and maroon gown in perfect array, framing a heart-shaped
face that might have belonged to a younger woman. She lifted a
delicate eyebrow at Elsie as she entered.

A second too late, Elsie realized that
the tray had begun to tremble. The fine china wobbled against the
gleaming silver, making it sing. Her stomach plummeted as a spoon
careened off the side and to the carpet below. She set her jaw and
willed her hands to be still.

They rebelled, and the tremors shook
her elbows, climbing all the way to her shoulders. Her knees were
suddenly weak. The feeling was dreadfully familiar, and she knew
all too well what would happen next. Unfortunately, there was
nothing she could do about it.

Jenny, a fellow housemaid, swooped in
seemingly out of nowhere. The curtain that fluttered in the corner
of the room seemed to suggest she’d been repairing it, and the
needle she held caught between her lips supported the notion. No
doubt Mrs. Remington’s beloved cat – a notorious destroyer of
curtains – was responsible for the damage. Normally, Elsie cursed
the creature for creating so much extra work, but it couldn’t have
put Jenny in the room at a more convenient time. Jenny snatched the
tray deftly from Elsie’s hands, saving the assortment of fine china
it bore from probable ruin.

Elsie collapsed onto the floor as soon
as she was relieved of the burden.

Whirling skirts clouded her vision as
Jenny and Mrs. Remington towered over her, exclaiming. “Elsie!”
Jenny knelt, lifted Elsie’s head into her lap and brushed a wayward
lock of wavy chestnut hair out of her friend’s eyes.

Elsie tried to steady her
still-trembling hands as she gazed up into Jenny’s large blue eyes,
which stood out all the more for her fair complexion and fiery red
hair. “I’m fine,” Elsie breathed, even though it wasn’t true. “Just
give me a moment. I’m sorry, I—”

“
Have you been following
the physician’s orders?” Mrs. Remington interrupted, her voice cool
and faintly musical, though it was clear she was upset. Her
alabaster brow furrowed into lines – a rare sight, despite the fact
that the woman was well into her middle years. She was a shade
fairer than even Jenny, and her complexion was the envy of London,
even among women half her age.

“
Yes.” Elsie frowned as she
thought of the foul beef tea and herb mixture she drank every
morning and evening at the physician’s insistence. A dull pain in
the crook of her elbow reminded her of the weekly bleeding sessions
the same man subjected her to. Unfortunately, both treatments had
yet to help her strange symptoms.

The full lips Mrs. Remington had
passed down to her children plunged down at the corners, forming a
graceful pout. “Over a month of treatments and no improvement. I
fear the physician’s remedies are ineffective.”

Obviously. Elsie said nothing as she
tried to move her knees. They resisted. God willing, the fit of
weakness would pass in a few moments, and she could go back to her
duties. Perhaps she could escape for a little while to the laundry
room, where she’d be out from under Mrs. Remington’s troubled hazel
gaze. The last thing she wanted was to have some foul new
concoction sprung upon her by the physician, or to be prodded and
bled again. The man subjected her to a fresh hell each time he
visited.

“
The city is no place for a
girl in your state of health,” Mrs. Remington continued, causing
Elsie’s stomach to twist in apprehension. Where else could she
possibly belong? She’d been born and raised in London and had
seldom strayed outside the city’s bounds. She strained to flex her
knees, desperate to stand. Was she about to be dismissed, after
seven years of service? The Remingtons’ London estate was the only
home she’d known since the hovel she’d shared with her parents had
been destroyed by a fire seven years ago. Surely not, but… She had
to admit, she did her mistress little good while lying on the floor
like a landed fish.

A surge of dark thoughts flooded
Elsie’s mind as she cursed her health troubles. Before her fits had
started, Mrs. Remington had been preening her to become her
personal maid. A lady’s maid! Traveling around the city in style
with Mrs. Remington would’ve been a fine change from dusting
mantles, polishing silver and beating rugs from dusk ‘till dawn.
She’d even had hairdressing lessons, but her chances of ever
putting them to use seemed to be dwindling with every attack she
suffered.

And yet, an eternity spent as a
housemaid was vastly preferable to dismissal. Mrs. Remington had
been kind so far. God send her generosity would outlast Elsie’s
health woes.

“
Surely the city is not to
blame.” Elsie managed to keep her voice steady despite the panic
that was making her heart beat in double-time. “Doubtless this is
some misfortune that would have befallen me no matter where I’d
made my home.” She attempted to flex her knees again and achieved
some small measure of success. If she could just get her legs under
her, she could at least kneel – anything would be more dignified
than lying on the floor with her head in Jenny’s lap while
practically looking up her mistress’s skirts.

“
I disagree.” Mrs.
Remington’s words sent real fear lancing through Elsie’s heart. The
woman’s word was as good as law on the grounds of her estate, as
well as in more than a few locations throughout the city. As the
wife of one of the wealthiest men in London, few dared to openly
contradict her, let alone a lowly maid who owed her life to her
generosity. If not for Mrs. Remington taking her on as a young
scullery maid despite her complete lack of experience, Elsie likely
would have starved or suffered worse fates to scrape by. She
swallowed the thick lump of anxiety that’d formed in her throat as
Mrs. Remington continued. “If anything will do you good, it’s fresh
country air. I have a mind to send you to our Hertfordshire
estate.”

Jenny gave a small gasp, her fingers
tightening around a clump of Elsie’s hair.

Mrs. Remington continued as if she
hadn’t heard. “I’m sure the air and quiet there would improve your
health greatly.”

Hertfordshire? Elsie’s heart thumped
madly as she swallowed another lump. It wasn’t far from London, but
it might as well have been a thousand miles away for all she’d get
to see Jenny, or her other friends among the household staff. The
thought was depressing, but there was a silver lining by the name
of Damon Remington – the heir to the Remington industrial empire.
She’d harbored a deep fascination with him ever since he’d rescued
her by convincing his mother to take mercy and hire her as a
scullery maid. He lived mostly at the country estate in
Hertfordshire with his sister Lucinda, and Elsie was seldom treated
to a sight of him. When he did visit his parents at the London
estate though… Her heart fluttered at just the thought. To think of
living in his household, of seeing him nearly every day…

She was a fool, of course. Swooning
over Damon, the impossibly handsome and unfathomably wealthy heir,
was something she’d have left to girls both younger and more
foolish than herself, if she’d had any sense. She allowed herself
the private indulgence though, a bit of secret excitement in her
relatively dull housemaid’s life. Damon would never know. Her heart
would keep the secret, and beat all the faster for it.

“
Elsie, do you think you
can stand?” Jenny was lifting Elsie’s head out of her lap and
trying to coax her into a sitting position, apparently doing her
best to convince Mrs. Remington that Elsie was perfectly fit for
service at the London estate.

Elsie nodded, her head swimming with
visions of Damon’s midnight hair and dark eyes. With Jenny’s help,
she managed to make it to her feet. Her knees wobbled, though
whether from lingering weakness or simply thoughts of the Remington
heir, it was impossible to tell.

Jenny put an arm around Elsie’s
shoulders and held her steady. “Shall I see her to bed, Mrs.
Remington?”

A knock came at the antechamber door,
swiftly followed by a handsome footman, who announced that Mrs.
Remington’s son, Damon, had arrived for a visit.

That was Damon, always mysterious and
fond of arriving unannounced. Elsie was grateful for Jenny’s
support, though she hoped to break free before her friend could
usher her into bed. She didn’t intend to miss a chance to lay eyes
on Damon, even if only for a moment in passing.

“
Very well,” Mrs. Remington
said, showing just an inkling of surprise before she smoothed her
beautiful features. “Tell him I shall wait here for him. And have
one of the maids bring another tea tray.” The faintest hint of a
frown tilted her mouth as she watched the footman go. “Jenny, see
that Elsie goes straight to bed. I’ll summon the physician for one
last treatment, and she’ll leave for Hertfordshire with Damon
whenever he deigns to return.”

****

“
I will not lie in bed and
wait for that old codger to come and jab my elbow. He’d bleed me
dry if I let him.” Elsie gave Jenny her best attempt at a stern
look. “I’m perfectly capable of working.” She bounced on her toes
and spun in a circle. It was a pathetic display of athleticism –
she tripped and nearly fell across her narrow bed in the maids’
quarters. “Loose floor board,” she mumbled, smoothing her skirts
and pushing a stray lock of hair off of one flaming
cheek.

“
Those are the mistress’s
orders,” Jenny said imperviously, fixing Elsie with a steady blue
gaze. Her red curls were tamed into perfect order, neatly tucked
beneath a mobcap. “You’re to go straight to bed and wait for the
physician. You’d best get under the blankets before you break your
silly neck.”

“
I will not.” Elsie
adjusted her apron. “I have dusting to attend to. And you’d better
get back to mending the curtains. That wicked cat has been climbing
them again, hasn’t he?”

Jenny smirked, ignoring Elsie’s
question. “And I suppose you think that if you leave right now, you
might pass a certain young master in the hallway?”