In the Company of Secrets
In the
C
OMPANY
of
S
ECRETS
Books by Judith Miller
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS
_________________________________
BELLS OF LOWELL
*
Daughter of the Loom
A Fragile Design
These Tangled Threads
LIGHTS OF LOWELL
*
A Tapestry of Hope
A Love Woven True
The Pattern of Her Heart
FREEDOM’S PATH
First Dawn
Morning Sky
Daylight Comes
POSTCARDS FROM PULLMAN
In the Company of Secrets
Whispers Along the Rails
*
with Tracie Peterson
POSTCARDS
from
PULLMAN * 1
In the
C
OMPANY
of
S
ECRETS
J
UDITH
M
ILLER
In the Company of Secrets
Copyright © 2007
Judith Miller
Cover design by Koechel Peterson & Associates
Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
Paperback: ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0276-6 ISBN-10: 0-7642-0276-6
Hardcover: ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0352-7 ISBN-10: 0-7642-0352-5
Large Print: ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0353-4 ISBN-10: 0-7642-0353-3
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
McCoy-Miller, Judith.
In the company of secrets / Judith Miller.
p. cm. — (Postcards from Pullman)
ISBN 978-0-7642-0352-7 (alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-7642-0276-6 (pbk.) — ISBN 978-0-7642-0353-4 (lg. print : pbk.)
1. Cooks—Fiction. 2. British—United States—Fiction. 3. Illinois—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3613.C3858I5 2007
813'.54—dc22 2006038412
To
Roberta Stuke
With a thankful heart for your friendship!
JUDITH MILLER is an award-winning author whose avid research and love for history are reflected in her novels, many of which have appeared on the CBA bestseller lists. Judy and her husband make their home in Topeka, Kansas.
Visit Judy’s Web site at:
www.judithmccoymiller.com.
Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his
neighbour: for we are members one of another.
—Ephesians 4:25
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
London, England
April 1892
Run! Faster! Hurry!
The warnings tolled in Olivia’s mind like a death knell. She raced toward the kitchen door, the rear stairway now in sight. Approaching the final obstacle, she rounded the kitchen worktable at breakneck speed. Her momentum abruptly slowed as the pocket of her starched white apron caught on the table’s corner. The rasping tear of the cotton cloth echoed in her ears, and she quickly cast a downward glance at the frayed pocket. Still hoping for time enough to flee, she urgently yanked at the apron. She’d not been fast enough.
Chef Mallard’s long fingers surrounded her forearm in an iron grip. She winced as he tightened his hold, certain she’d be bruised by the morrow. Shoving her against the table, he eased his grip only slightly and leaned his full weight against her. The edge of the heavy worktable cut into the small of her back, and she groaned.
A look of triumph shone in his small dark eyes. ‘‘Do not toy with me, Miss Mott. I know you desire my affections.’’
‘‘
Desire?
You disgust me! Turn me loose or I shall report you to the countess.’’
Her angry rebuff served only to incense him further. Instead of releasing her, he pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger and pressed his thin, hard lips against her mouth in a bruising kiss. The legs of the massive worktable scraped across the stone floor as she struggled backward, trying to gain her freedom. He captured her waist with his arm and pulled her into a fearsome embrace. A lustful gleam lurked in his watery eyes and penetrated her very soul. He traced his tongue across the vindictive smile curving his lips. She shuddered.
Beneath the collar of the chef ’s white tunic, his Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably. ‘‘Quit fighting me!’’
‘‘Never! I’ll not yield to you.’’ She spat the words into his face.
With a wicked laugh, he grabbed at the hem of her skirt.
How dare he!
Without hesitation, Olivia stomped the heel of her shoe atop his foot. The despicable chef yelped and his grip loosened. Wresting free of him, she hastened to the opposite side of the table while straining to remain calm. Across the expanse of the wooden table, she stared at him. The man was a lecherous fiend.
He bent forward and rested his palms against the table. ‘‘You’ll find speaking to the countess will do you no good.’’ He wagged his index finger at her. ‘‘The Countess of Lanshire needs an excellent chef on her staff. Scullery maids can be found on any street corner. Be advised that others have tried that tack and none have succeeded.’’ His stale breath wafted across the table and assaulted her. ‘‘You will permit me the pleasure of your body whenever I so desire, or you will find yourself among the unemployed,
Miss Mott
. You have but two days to give me your decision.’’
Outwitted!
Olivia should have known the calculating chef would have a trump card at the ready, and that he would use it whenever and wherever he saw fit. Each of his words hit like a blow to the midsection. Swallowing hard, Olivia forced down the lump in her throat. If she disgorged herself of the morning meal, the chef would offer yet another serving of his brutal humiliation.
He moved away from the table and gestured toward the stairway. ‘‘I’ll not detain you further. Consider your options carefully, Miss Mott. Either you’ll be my mistress or you’ll be unemployed.’’
Careful to maintain her distance, Olivia sidestepped toward the stairs on wobbly legs. She hoped to maintain some sense of decorum until she finally escaped the kitchen. He was watching her every move. Only when she reached the stairs did she turn her back toward him and race up the flight as though the devil himself were on her heels. She didn’t stop running until she reached the third floor.
Leaning against the far wall, she gasped for air, her chest heaving. As her breathing slowed, she realized those few minutes in the kitchen had changed the course of her life. She’d seen her dream evaporate as quickly as ice melting on a summer day.
When she’d arrived at Lanshire Hall fourteen months ago, she had hoped Chef Mallard would lead her on the path to a successful career. Like everyone else who had eaten his expertly prepared delicacies, Olivia had been in awe of his culinary abilities. Until today the desire to become a renowned chef had outweighed all other dreams. Unfortunately, the Mallard, as she privately referred to him, had drawn a line in the sand—a line she would never cross, no matter how deep the desire to achieve her goal. Today he had proved himself to be the odious man about whom she had been forewarned.
With a quick swipe she brushed away the tears that stained her cheeks and dejectedly walked to the end of the hall. She sniffed loudly and pushed open the door to the room she shared with Ludenia, Lady Charlotte Spencer’s personal maid.
At the sound of the latch, Ludie glanced up from her stitching. Her eyes opened wide, and she dropped the embroidery on the side table as she rushed forward to enfold Olivia in a gentle embrace. ‘‘Now what’s this all about, dearie? Tell Ludie what’s troubling you.’’
Olivia fell into the warmth of the woman’s fleshy arms and wept, her body heaving up and down with each giant sob. When her wrenching wails subsided, Ludie loosened her hold and handed Olivia her handkerchief. The woman’s eyes shone with sympathy as she lovingly patted her shoulder.
‘‘Now, then, sit down and tell me what has happened.’’
They settled themselves on the only two chairs in the small room. In between hiccoughs and sniffles, Olivia explained Chef Mallard’s sordid ultimatum.
‘‘If I don’t give in to him, he says he’ll make certain I never work in another reputable kitchen in England.’’ She wiped her tears on the linen hankie. ‘‘Oh, Ludie, what am I going to do?’’
‘‘Oh, my dear! Surely there’s an answer. We merely must find it.’’ She jiggled her knee up and down, a sure sign she was deep in thought.
