Manor of Secrets (25 page)

Janie had assumed that her mother
couldn’t
take her along if she worked for Lady Beatrice. But a restaurant kitchen needed more than one person.

“When were you going to tell me?” Janie blurted. “When you left? Or when I came begging you for a job because I was starving on the streets?”

Everyone fell silent.

“Or were you just going to keep it a secret forever, like the fact that I have a sister?” Janie couldn’t stop once she started. It was like a tap had been turned and everything came spewing forth. “What I don’t know can’t hurt me, right? Did you think I wouldn’t notice when my
mother
disappeared and I was suddenly working for a Frenchman? Or when I lost my job and had nowhere to go?”

Her voice lost all its strength as a sob rose in her throat and stifled her.

Harry’s hand found its way into hers.

Andrew opened his mouth as if to respond, but Mrs. Seward held up a finger to silence him.

“There was another offer,” she said.

“So I get your castoffs?” Janie asked, unwilling to let the argument go.

“It was an offer for you,” Mrs. Seward said. “And only for you.”

Janie let that information settle low in her heart. And waited.

“But I knew how much you love it here, so I wasn’t going to mention it to you.” Mrs. Seward sighed. “And because it will take you far away. So far, I won’t get to see you. At least if you worked in a country house you might come into town for the Season.”

“How far?” Janie asked warily.

“Italy.” Mrs. Seward sighed again and didn’t look up from the leaves at the bottom of her teacup, as if she were trying to read her fortune in them. Her face looked tired. “Lady Beatrice wants you to be her cook.”

C
harlotte’s eyes felt swollen shut, and her throat burned. When she turned her head, there was a wet spot on her pillow. And her hand hurt.

Then she remembered. Lawrence. The lake. Her mother. Mother
s
, plural.

But she also remembered Andrew. His picking her up for the third time that night and carrying her to her bed. Feeding her tea and fruitcake. And sitting in the overstuffed chair by her bed. Watching until she fell asleep.

Charlotte pried one eye open a crack. The chair was empty. And the light parting the curtains was stabbingly bright.

She wondered what would happen if she just pretended not to wake up.

But she was through with imagining her life.

She needed to see her mother. Both of them. She needed to thank Andrew.

And she needed to talk to Janie before she left
. Lady Diane didn’t tolerate dismissed servants remaining at The Manor, not even if they had no place to go.

Charlotte swung her legs out of the bed, her head swimming. She still wore her tea gown from the night before. Without thinking, Charlotte reached for the bell pull and stopped when her hand gripped the velvet.

Sarah had refused to come upstairs the night before. Why should today be any different?

“Blast.” Tears threatened again. She couldn’t even dress herself. Couldn’t tighten the corset. Could barely do her hair. She was tired of being helpless. Tired of being useless.

“I’ll just have to go in this.”

Charlotte searched for stockings and slippers. She ran the brush through her hair, remembering Janie doing it. How she felt even then that it was something a sister would do. Quickly, she twisted her hair into a knot and stabbed it with pins. It would have to suffice.

She strode across the room and threw open the door, only to find Fran on the other side, her hand raised to knock.

Charlotte sagged. “Why are you here?”

“All the other guests have left.” Fran wouldn’t look Charlotte in the eye.

Charlotte felt even more deflated. That meant the gossip had already started. And Andrew was gone, as well.

“So did you come here to gloat?” Charlotte asked. “It’s too early for a fight.”

But Fran didn’t have the air of someone looking for a fight. She looked like someone with all the fight knocked out of her.

“I came to apologize,” she said.

“For what?” Though a dozen answers came to Charlotte immediately.

“For everything. I — I wanted you to get caught,” Fran said. “You were throwing your life away.”

“It’s my life,” Charlotte said, and realized she liked the sound of that.

“I just didn’t want you to tarnish your chances, Charlotte. I was a good friend.”

Charlotte snorted in disbelief. “I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”

“There’s more to love than hugs and kisses, you know. There’s protecting somebody. Even if it means protecting her from herself.”

Charlotte wondered if that’s what Lady Diane had thought she was doing. For Charlotte. For Beatrice.

“I wanted what was best for you,” Fran continued, as ever without waiting for a response.

But Charlotte was tired of people not wanting to hear what she had to say. She took a step closer to Fran and raised her voice. “What
you
thought was best. What my mother thought was best.”

“Because in our society that
is
what’s best!”

“The world is changing, Fran. And we’re going to have to change with it. Act as individuals instead of part of the herd. Especially if the herd excludes most of the people in the country.”

“Are you saying I should consort with the staff?” Fran sniped. “Learn how to make my own toast? Have a job? I think not.”

“And that’s why we’re different, Fran. I want to know how to do things. I want to be able to dress and feed myself. I want to have my own ideas. And I
want
to have a job. I want to be a writer.”

“Good luck finding a man who will tolerate that.”

Charlotte froze for a moment, thinking of Andrew. Of his determination that everyone should have the vote. Of his interest in her stories. Of the shared humor in his dark eyes.

But he’d left. The thought caused more pain than she would have imagined possible a few days before.

Charlotte took a deep breath. “Then I’ll just have to keep looking until I find one.”

Fran pinched her upper lip between her teeth. She didn’t look like she would toss her head and make a judgment without batting an eye. She looked on the verge of tears herself.

“I guess I just don’t believe that’s possible,” she said. “All I ever wanted was what you have. The title. The Manor. The parties. The Season.”

“Is that the only reason you were after David?” Charlotte asked.

Fran shrugged like it was nothing. “At least I’d know what to expect.”

“But now you can expect nothing,” Charlotte said harshly. “Because The Manor is in disrepute.”

Fran hung her head. “I thought if I caught you with the footman, you’d see how stupid you were being. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Really.”

“You brought Andrew with you.”

“I knew Lord Broadhurst would be too much of a gentleman to stoop to tittle-tattle.”

“You told my
mother
.”

“Because you ran away!” Fran cried, looking up. Her eyes
were rimmed with red. “I didn’t know what else to do. You ran off into the dark. It was terrifying.”

It was liberating.

“At least it taught me who my friends really are,” Charlotte said. “And if you don’t mind, I need to catch her before she leaves.”

Charlotte brushed past Fran and strode down the hall to the servants’ stairs.

“The kitchen maid?” Fran was right on her heels.

“Janie.” Charlotte used her fingertips to pry open the hidden door.

The stairwell was dark and smelled of wood and sweat. And the odors escaping the kitchen — bacon and deviled kidneys and freshly baked scones.

“Is it true she’s your half sister?”

Charlotte stopped and turned back. Janie was right. Gossip traveled quickly in The Manor.

“Sister,” she corrected.

“No wonder you liked her so much better than me.”

Charlotte was suddenly tired of Fran’s self-absorption and emotional manipulations.

“I liked Janie because she didn’t pretend to be anything other than what she was,” Charlotte said. “And because knowing her gave me courage to be who
I
am.”

“I thought she was a bad influence on you.” Fran paused and looked at Charlotte sadly. “But I guess I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were.” Charlotte turned back to where the stairs descended into pitch darkness. On the wall was a narrow shelf, holding a candle and a box of matches. Unlike Charlotte, The Manor servants prepared for every eventuality.

Fran didn’t move while Charlotte struck the match, but then said, “I’d like to meet her.”

Charlotte scrutinized her over the flame.

“Fine,” she said and led the way down the stairs.

There were voices coming from the servants’ hall when they got down to the basement. Charlotte could hear Sarah distinctly.

“Well, I for one am not serving the illegitimate daughter of a coachman.”

The words stopped Charlotte dead, one foot on the brick floor of the hall, the other toe still resting on the bottom stair. As the truth hit her, she found she no longer had the courage to move forward.

Fran put a hand on her back. “This isn’t the worst you’re going to hear. But you’re strong enough not to let it get to you.”

As angry as she still was at Fran, those words comforted her.

“I don’t know why Lord Broadhurst is sticking around,” a male voice said.

Charlotte gasped and looked back over her shoulder. “Andrew’s still here?”

Fran nodded. “I guess you know who your friends are.”

Charlotte felt a flare of joy until another voice rang out of the servants’ hall. “I always knew there was summat wrong with her.”

Fran pushed down the stairs and marched up to the door to the hall. There was a scraping of chairs and clanging of crockery as the servants all stood.

“I’m looking for a cup of tea,” Fran announced.

Again, chairs scraped and clatter ensued and several voices said at once, “I can get that for you, Miss Caldwell.”

“No,” Fran said sharply. “I’m afraid you misunderstand me. I’m looking for someone to help me and my friend — Lady Charlotte — get a cup of tea and maybe a piece of cake. Can anyone tell me where Janie Seward is?”

Silence.

A shadow flickered on the doorjamb on the other side of Fran and Charlotte thought she saw a face looking out at her, wide-eyed.

Then a simple statement from deep within the servants’ hall. “She’s in the kitchen. Just saying good-bye to her mother.”

J
anie stoked the giant coal-burning stove, knowing it would probably be the last time. Harry stood behind her, leaning back on the great oak table. Like nothing had changed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “You know that?”

That
was different. And Janie found that she liked it.

“As only a girl with her head in an oven can be,” she called into the burner. The heat flared, and she moved back, feeling the surge on the thin skin of her cheeks.

“You are,” Harry said as she stood up, dusting her hands together. He grabbed them before she wiped them on her apron.

Only she wasn’t wearing an apron. She was wearing her traveling dress.

“Oh!” Janie cried and looked up at him. “Thanks for that.”

He pressed her palms against his chest to get the coal dust off of them and pulled her closer.

“I mean it,” he murmured into her ear, causing a little shiver to trail down her spine. “I don’t care if you’re in a Worth gown or covered in grease and cream, you’re beautiful.”

And Janie smiled up at him — because she believed him.

“No more of that now, chickens, we don’t want you getting sacked twice from the same job.” Mrs. Seward stepped in through the courtyard door.

Janie dropped her hands.

“I was just making tea,” Janie said.

“You were just doing more than that, Janie Mae.”

“I didn’t think …”

“You’re still under Lady Diane’s roof and though she’s still … indisposed, she has a very long arm and very little tolerance.”

Janie nodded, peeping at Harry out of the corner of her eye. He looked terrified. But when she turned back to her mother, Mrs. Seward’s shoulders were shaking, her lips pressed tightly together.