Manor of Secrets (23 page)

For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Janie searched Charlotte’s face for something familiar. She saw it in the arch of an eyebrow. The slight uplift at the end of the nose. The hint of red in the deep brown hair.

“I never knew my father, either,” Janie said, her words sounding as if they had traveled a long distance over a broken road. “But I think I know my sister.”

Janie waited, her heartbeat throbbing percussively at her temples. Her mind kept spinning, snagging on questions and broken images. She wished she had something to do with her hands — stirring or kneading or scrubbing — so she could slow her thoughts down and unpick the tangles.

Charlotte went completely still, staring. “Sister?” she whispered.

Then with a squeak, she threw her arms around Janie, almost knocking her back onto the floor.

Janie gasped in surprise and hugged Charlotte back. It felt strange, even after all they’d been through. The ghost of the invisible wall between upstairs and downstairs was still there.

“I’m so glad!” Charlotte said, hugging Janie more tightly. “I’m so glad I have a sister.”

“I am, too,” Janie said. Glad to have a sister, but so sad for her mother and father, and for Lady Beatrice. For all the consequences of their actions.

Then Charlotte laughed. Or perhaps she sobbed. It turned into a coughing fit that wracked her frame, and still she didn’t let go.

Janie pulled away.

“I won’t have a sister for long if you die of pneumonia from your trip into the lake,” she said brusquely. “You need to change.”

Charlotte stood up and shed the Worth gown, the chiffon puddling on the carpet, the dye already starting to streak. Janie shook it out and hung it up carefully.

“So do you,” Charlotte said, shivering in her linen shift and corset. She pointed accusingly at Janie’s sodden hem and squelching shoes.

“I’ll go up in a minute,” Janie said.

“You will not,” Charlotte said, going to the wardrobe and pulling out a pretty, rose-colored tea gown. She held it up to Janie. “This should fit you, and you won’t need a corset.”

Janie stood, holding the dress at arm’s length. “I can’t wear this.”

“It will fit you,” Charlotte said, pulling out a similar gown in a pale blue.

“It’s too nice.” Janie started to hang it up again, but Charlotte stopped her.

“Wear it,” she said solemnly and moved behind the bed and its velvet curtains to change.

Janie pulled off the cotton dress and slipped into the gown. It felt like summer against her skin. The hem was perhaps a little long; she could feel it tickling her toes. But Charlotte was right. It fit.

Janie turned to thank her, but Charlotte was almost buried headfirst in her cedar chest, rummaging around the bottom of it. She came up with two pairs of thick woolen socks and threw one at Janie.

“These will keep your feet warm,” she said. “I stole them from my brother when he came home from Oxford one year.” She paused and frowned. “My cousin, I guess. Not my brother.”

“It will take some getting used to,” Janie said.

They watched each other for a long moment more.

A knock at the door startled them and they both looked up.

“Come in?” Charlotte said, her voice tentative.

It could be anyone. Sarah. Mrs. Griffiths. Lady Diane.

Though Lady Diane didn’t strike Janie as the sort of person who would knock before entering her daughter’s room.

No one entered. Silence reigned on the other side of the door.

Janie looked at Charlotte, who stared at her, wide-eyed. So Janie crossed the room and carefully opened the door, peering around it to see who was there.

Lord Broadhurst stood in the hall, carrying a tray laden with a teapot, a cup and saucer, and a plate filled with tiny slices of cake.

“Miss Seward,” he said, relief written all over his face. “I thought perhaps tea was in order.”

He glanced at Charlotte and then back to Janie, his eyes full of sympathy.

“I rang for Sarah,” Janie said, opening the door wider to allow him in, but he didn’t move.

“I’m afraid the housemaid …” Lord Broadhurst paused. “The housemaid refused to answer Lady Charlotte’s bell.”

Janie turned just in time to see Charlotte’s head sink to her knees again.

“The minx,” Janie muttered under her breath and then looked up into the earl-to-be’s startled face. “My apologies for my unguarded tongue, Lord Broadhurst.”

“No apologies necessary,” he said. “You expressed my thoughts admirably, and perhaps with more discretion.”

He smiled, his eyes dancing. No wonder Charlotte appeared to like him now.

“Please come in,” Charlotte said.

“I’m afraid it’s not fitting for a single man to enter a maiden’s bedchamber,” Lord Broadhurst said, handing over the tray to Janie. “I just wanted to bring this.”

“Oh, heavens,” Charlotte said, standing up. “I think my reputation can take a bit more of a beating.”

“I wouldn’t add to your troubles, Charlotte.” The way he said Charlotte’s name made Janie want to cry. So much tenderness.

They stood there for a moment, the three of them, caught in a web of propriety. Janie wished they lived in a simpler world. She set the tea tray down on Charlotte’s dressing table.

Lord Broadhurst seemed to collect himself. “And I only brought one cup. I do apologize, Miss Seward.”

“Please, call me Janie,” she said, easing past him. “And I can get my own. …”

The hidden door at the end of the hall opened, and Harry’s face appeared around the jamb.

“Oh, Janie, everything’s gone to …” He spotted Lord
Broadhurst and Charlotte through the doorway. “… gone to the dogs downstairs.”

“Is Lady Diane all right?” Janie asked.

“The doctor’s here,” Harry said, walking silently up the hall. “He came right away.”

“I should go to my mother,” Charlotte said. She sounded weak and unsure.

“Her …” Harry hesitated. “Her sister is with her.”

They were all silent for a moment, and Janie imagined she was not the only one trying to untangle which woman was mother and which sister.

Harry took a deep breath and added, “She said she didn’t want to see you.”

Charlotte bit her lip and turned her head away, the loose strands of hair covering her face.

“She never wanted me,” she said. Lord Broadhurst laid a hand on her shoulder, and Charlotte shuddered. Janie’s heart broke for her.

Harry shook his head and stepped closer. “Lady Diane, I mean,” he said quickly. “Lady Beatrice … she said she’ll come and find you. That you have a lot to talk about.”

Charlotte blew air out through her nose in a sound that could have been a snort and could have been a sob. “That’s
an understatement,” she said. Janie had to smile. If Charlotte could joke, she would be all right.

And Lord Broadhurst’s hand hadn’t moved from her shoulder.

“I’m going downstairs,” Janie said. “Can I bring you anything else, Charlotte?”

Charlotte looked evenly at Lord Broadhurst. “Another cup,” she said.

Janie walked with Harry down the hall. So close, she could feel the pressure of his arm against the fabric of her sleeve. She felt her fingers drifting toward his like iron filings toward a magnet.

“The entire servants’ hall is buzzing,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. “Everyone’s talking, and I can’t believe all of it is true.” He studied her closely. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.” She turned to face him. Looking up into his face, into the warmth of his eyes, a little tightness left her chest. “But I’m scared.”

“You, Janie? Of what?” He opened the door and allowed her to step through ahead of him. Janie paused on the landing and looked down the steep flight of stairs.

“Of what happens next.”

“What happens next is what happens every day. We walk downstairs. We make another cup of tea.”

“But I don’t —” Janie’s voice caught on the shard of truth lodged in her throat. “I was wrong about this place.”

Harry turned her around and pulled her up against his chest. Janie raised her head to look down the hall. To see who might be watching. But he moved so his face was right in front of hers. So all she could see were those champagne eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Charlotte’s my sister,” Janie blurted and closed her eyes. “My father was the coachman. I thought he was fired because of me, but it was because of her.” She leaned forward to put her forehead on his chest. “I don’t belong here.”

“You belong where your heart is,” he said.

“That’s what my mother says.” Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him. “I have to see my mother.”

“I think she’s downstairs.” Harry swallowed. “Like I said, we’re all still up.”

Janie turned and together they moved down the two flights to the basement. Harry knew when she needed silence. He knew she had to sort out her own thoughts before she could voice them.

And when the cacophony of the servants’ hall reached them on the first-floor landing, he knew she needed to hold his hand.

“They’re talking about me,” she said, hesitating.

“Since when has that bothered you?” Harry asked, his lips close to her ear.

“Since forever.” Janie was achingly aware of the nearness of him.

“But you always just dismissed it. Sarah and her jealousy. Tess’s snide comments. Mollie leaving the worst of the pots for you to clean.” He paused. “Me wanting to hold you back.”

“That hurt the most,” Janie admitted. “But at least I know why now.”

“Oh?” Harry arched an eyebrow. “And why do you think?”

“Because you love me and wanted me all to yourself.”

She reached up to kiss him once, and then leaned against him, drinking in the comforting scents of smoke and resin.

“Worse than that,” she said quietly. “They’re talking about Charlotte. And it won’t be long before they do the math and realize I have a philandering father. And find ways for it to bring shame on my mother.”

“She can take care of herself.” Harry rested his chin on the top of her head. “I think Lady Charlotte can, too.”

Janie knew this was true. But for one blinding instant, she wished someone would take care of her.

Then she straightened her shoulders and tucked a stray hair into her plait with her free hand. Lastly, she let go of Harry.

“I guess now is as good a time as any to face it,” she said, more bravely than she felt.

“I’m right behind you,” Harry murmured.

The servants’ hall silenced when she walked in. Plates were scattered all over the table, nothing but crumbs left on them. Mollie had her saucer to her lips, blowing on the tea she’d poured there. Tess stood in the kitchen doorway, frowning. Resenting the fact she’d had to serve the staff’s late-night tea, no doubt.

Mrs. Seward wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t. She would be in the kitchen.

Now is as good a time as any.

Sarah sat near the head of the table on the maids’ side, her mouth twisted into a half grin, half grimace. “What are you doing here?” she asked Janie. “Shouldn’t you be out on the streets?”

Sarah and Tess erupted into laughter, but Mollie just stared miserably at her saucer, the tea rippling beneath her breath.

Janie cringed inwardly at the suggestion that she’d never again have a respectable job. But she didn’t respond. She’d known it was coming. It was best just to let it roll over her like the tide.

“You always thought you were better than us,” Sarah continued. “With your cooking and your training to be a
lady’s maid. And now you know the truth. She’s not even a lady.”

“Say what you like about me, Sarah,” Janie said. “But I will not let you talk that way about my
sister.
”

Half of the faces in the room registered shock, and the other half satisfaction. Apparently, the arithmetic had already been done.

Sarah was obviously one who had already guessed. And obviously delighted in getting a rise out of Janie. “I don’t see why. Neither one of you are any better than her tart of a mother. You’re not even good enough for the piffling Peasgood.”

The room went silent. Waiting for Janie to respond. To fly at Sarah over the table. Scratch her eyes out. Scream curses. Girls had done it before at The Manor. Living in such close quarters bred hostility.

Janie refused to give them the satisfaction.

“There you’re right, Sarah,” she said, letting her voice grow low and dangerous, but sweetening it as best she could. “Harry’s too good for me.”

She felt Harry move behind her, ready to jump in. Contradict her. But she held up a hand to stop him.

“He makes me feel like I’m better than this.” She swept a hand out, encompassing the entire servants’ hall. “Better than you, Sarah.”

Someone hissed and Mollie dropped her saucer, but Janie didn’t let them interject.

“He makes me want to be a better
person
,” she said. “Someone who cares and helps and believes in what’s right. It wouldn’t matter if I were the scullery maid or the Duchess of Devonshire. Until I can be better than petty quarrels and the pecking order of hierarchy, I won’t be worthy of him.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. It didn’t matter anymore who knew. She didn’t have to keep this a secret. So she kissed him gently on the cheek and turned back to her dumbfounded audience.

“But I’m determined to keep trying.”