Lily Mine: A Historical Fantasy
by
Annabel Joseph
Copyright 2011 Annabel Joseph
Smashwords Edition
Cover art by Dara England of Lady Fingers Designs
* * * * *
Smashwords License Notes
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
* * * * *
To W.
For inspiration and encouragement…
* * * * *
Chapter One: Lilyvale
Southeast England, mid-1820s
Lily trudged along the road to Lilyvale sustained by the kind of hope only the truly desperate possess. She had to find work. Gardening was her passion, but at this point she would settle for any household position she could get. She looked down at her basket of potted plants-- passable chrysanthemums and cheery marigolds. They would not last much longer in the heat of the late-summer day, and then her investment in the blooms would be wasted. So far, she had given away three pots, but hadn't managed to procure a position. The mistress of the last manor had pointed her to Lilyvale, reportedly the home of a reclusive earl. Lily hoped the fact that she shared the name of the manor boded well.
A warm breeze ruffled her hair and the sturdy if threadbare lilac-colored muslin gown she wore. Her once-shiny leather shoes were dull and dusty from the road. Over the past three days she had walked all the way from Tunbridge to the outskirts of rural Kent, and while her feet protested, she was only too happy to put as much distance as possible between her and London. If only she had the fortitude to walk on to Dover, she might cross the channel to Calais and begin a whole new life.
But then, she didn't speak French, and the Kent countryside was really quite lovely, a world away from London's dirty districts. Before long she was in sight of the manor house. It was a great stone structure, large for a country estate, with picturesque spires and battlements. There was a manicured garden to one side, and beyond it a large-sized greenhouse. The front of the manor was flanked by a long walkway which was also meticulously landscaped. However, the beds showed signs of neglect. The side garden needed weeding badly, and the rose bushes visibly drooped. Her heart soared with hope as she realized the earl could very likely be short of grounds help.
Aside from the gardens, there were a great many windows on the grand edifice. How wonderful to be able to look out at the grounds from any place in the house through those windows, and how bright and warm it must feel inside. Her family's London home had been dark and dank, crowded with noisy neighbors and foul city smells. She and her four sisters shared one cramped bedroom, which had led to many a shouting match. Although she'd never been very fond of her sisters, thinking of them now brought a mist of tears to her eyes. Lily shoved the sadness down, along with thoughts of her father's anger and condemnation.
Her father had blamed her for the loss of the Halstead household's account, the position that had kept him in the horticulture business practically since his start. Her father had designed and tended the Halstead mansion gardens in London for nearly two decades, and from a young age, Lily had gone along and helped out as his apprentice. Lily was the oldest of the five daughters, each named by their mother after a favorite flower. It was the Kendall matriarch who had truly lived for flowers and wanted to make the world bloom. But she had died birthing her youngest daughter, and Lily, a girl of ten at the time, had stood in her stead helping raise and nurture Rose, Violet, Iris, and baby Pansy.
That was, until last week when Lily had been sent away by her father, disowned and shamed. Lily had been ruined by Halstead's son, Lord Horace. Ruined. A horrible status for any young lady. She had never imagined such a thing befalling her, but now it was what she was. Ruined. The fruits of accepting a walk through a secluded garden with a rogue of a gentleman, and not realizing the peril thereof.
Horace had ruined her right on the ground, behind a berry bush her own father had planted. She had stared up at the vivid clusters of red fruit with a kind of hapless resignation at her plight. It wasn't as if there were marriage or a disappointed husband in her future--at twenty-one she had nary a beau to speak of, and was resigned to life on the shelf.
Anyway, there had been no point in struggling. Horace was a bear of a man and violently intent on what he was about. It had been painful but quickly over. She hadn't fought him as he rutted on her, his acrid breath blowing in her face. Afterward he had threatened her with her father's job if she told anyone. In the end, Lord Halstead let John Kendall go anyway, citing his daughter's loose morals as the cause of his dismissal.
Somehow, Lily had assumed her father would see through the lies of Lord Horace, but he had flown into a fury and tossed her out of the house. He denied her contact with her sisters, lest she corrupt them also. When she pleaded with him and asked how she was to survive without her family, he had thrown her a few coins and directed her to the south end of London where the prostitutes worked.
But she would not go there. She would not make her living "on her back" as her father suggested, not now that she had discovered what such a life entailed. She used what little money she had to gain passage to Tunbridge, and at Tunbridge did odd jobs while she looked for a position at neighboring households. She was offered kitchen and housemaid work at more than one place, but she wasn't quite ready to settle for that yet. She knew she could make a living with plants and flowers if she worked hard and didn't give up. She was smart and tough, and she was persistent. The time for tears was past. She had cried the entire way from London to Tunbridge, and cried a bit from Tunbridge to Smeeth as well, but she would allow herself no more crying.
And Lilyvale… She hoped it might turn her fates. Apparently the master of the manor was recently married and setting up house. Perhaps that explained the disarray of the gardens. With her experience and knowledge, she could have the grounds in elegant shape in no time. Lily squared her shoulders and walked to the side entrance, raised her hand and rapped on the door.
She waited several moments before rapping again more loudly. A few moments after that, despair began to set in. Was no one at home after all the effort she'd made to walk here? She was just about to give up when the door swung open and a tall thin manservant with a stern face popped his head out.
"Can I help you, miss--"
His voice cut off and his eyes widened as he stared at her. Lily looked down at the bodice of her dress for fear a great spider or beetle was crawling upon her, but she saw nothing to explain the servant's shocked face.
"Please, sir, if the head housekeeper is available, I have come to enquire after grounds work. I can do gardening and keep the greenhouse filled with flowers of every variety and color all year." She held up the basket over her arm.
Now the man's eyes narrowed. Why did he look at her that way? Before she could wonder very long, he made a move to withdraw back into the house.
"Wait here, miss. I'll return shortly."
"Oh, thank you, sir." The door was slammed in her face. What a terribly bizarre man. Lily was kept waiting a long while and had nearly given up a second time when the door swung open again. The man stood back and gestured her into the kitchen.
"Lord Ashbourne will meet with you in the front parlor."
"Oh!" Lily spun in confusion. "I did not mean to disturb your master. Can I not just speak to the housekeeper?"
"No, you may not," said the manservant in a rather affronted tone. "If you will follow me, please."
For goodness' sake, Lily was not at all used to rubbing shoulders with peers of the realm. The only lord she'd had acquaintance of thus far had very much wrecked her life. She was dressed in a messy, road-worn frock, and oh, her shoes were so dirty. She pulled and patted at her wind-tangled locks, trying to achieve some semblance of civility.
The servant led her down a long, wide hallway hung with imposing paintings of gentlemen and ladies. Members of the Ashbourne family, she supposed. They all peered down at her from their gilt-framed canvases as if to say, "Oh, what is she doing here?" Near the end of the hall, they passed a spot where a frame seemed to be missing, blank wall in its place. Lily thought on it only a moment before they passed into the grand foyer and her breath caught in her throat.
The foyer rose up above her in a high, open expanse of white with intricate pale blue and gold molding, and a spectacular wide staircase that curved around and up to the second floor of the home. A chandelier hung from a thick gold chain affixed at the height of the entryway's ceiling. It was like a constellation right there in the house, each crystal sparkling in the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows. She stared up open-mouthed at the hundreds of glittering orbs that comprised the fixture, until the servant cleared his throat.
"Right this way, miss."
Lily gathered her wits and followed him down another short hallway to a room on the left. The double doors were open. The servant stood back and Lily stepped into a large parlor in the same colors of pristine white and pale gold and blue. Several sofas and chairs were arranged tastefully around a low, marble-topped table. Lily noticed with hope that the wide table had no flowers on it--yet. In fact, there were no flowers at all in the staid room. It was an unusually uncluttered space. Some smaller tables contained light refreshments and a half-played game of chess. Windows along the front wall let in sunlight, which fell across the blue velvet upholstered chairs, making the surface of the fabric shimmer. In front of one of the windows stood a man who had to be the Earl of Ashbourne.
In the moment before he turned, she noted his height, the broad width of his shoulders, the proud carriage of his stance and his fine, well-tailored clothes. He wore dark trousers, topped with a midnight blue coat. His chestnut hair was cropped to a somewhat middling length, in the preferred style of the gentlemen in town.
At his man's soft cough, he turned to regard her. She waited for the impatient dismissal he was sure to voice when he realized his servant had arranged an audience with a disheveled commoner, but no curt words came, only a silent stare. His mouth was stern in appearance, and his jaw strong and angular, framed by an impeccably tied cravat. His face was striking, his nose prominent and not aristocratic at all. He had the look and mien of one who was powerful and masculine, and not that of the many dandy lords she'd seen about London. And the color of his eyes… Lily saw now why the entire house was outfitted in the pale blue of the sky, the blue of cornflowers in the sun. His eyes were a most remarkable shade of the same blue.
He was perhaps thirty years of age, although his grave expression made him appear older. As he approached, she realized that she must be staring. For that matter, he stared at her too, one hand rising to his mouth. She watched his finger trace over his lower lip and back as if he were deep in thought, or considering some puzzle. She dropped her gaze, befuddled by her reaction to his…beauty. There was no other word for it. Lily had been raised to appreciate beauty. The beauty of a flower, the beauty of a tree in bloom or a wonderfully designed garden. The beauty of nature.
This man was a gift of nature. He was just that beautiful to look upon.
"Your name, miss?"
Lily jumped as the manservant whispered the question in her ear. "Oh. It's Lily."
"Lily, a gardener," the man boomed out as if they were not, the three of them, alone in a silent country parlor.
Lord Ashbourne looked at his servant with something like exasperation, then inclined his head as Lily curtsied. She had learned gentle manners and speech from her mother, but still she wasn't sure what to say or do in this singular situation. She was relieved when Lord Ashbourne gestured to the nearest divan.
"Please, sit down."
Lily took a deep breath and crossed to sit on the velvet cushions, being careful to set her basket down so no dirt or soil fell in the immaculate room. She looked up again at the lord of the manor. She must wait for him to speak, mustn't she? But he had fallen silent again, staring at her no less intently. The servant left, shutting the double doors with a click that echoed in the stillness. She swallowed hard, quite ill at ease.
"Well, sir… Erm… My lord, I am so very sorry to disturb you."
"It is no disturbance. I was not busy. Why have you come to Lilyvale this afternoon?"
His tone was strained, as if he were frustrated but trying to keep it in check. He did not sit down but stood, facing her, bracing his hands on the back of the opposite divan. She noted that his knuckles were nearly white in their grip. She would be quick. She did not want to keep him if he was in a temper.
"My lord, I have come to seek employment with your grounds staff, to beautify your lovely manor."
"Lilyvale has no grounds staff at present, I'm afraid."
She bit her lip. He was definitely not in a good mood. Then again, she had been around so few of his type. Perhaps this clipped, tense formality was just the way all wealthy gentlemen acted. "I wouldn't wish to take up your time," Lily said. "I might just as well speak to the lady of the house, or your housekeeper if it pleases you."
"The lady of the house is away and the housekeeper is off for the evening, so I suppose you might just as well speak to me."
A part-time housekeeper? She blushed, realizing he must have fallen on hard times like so many of the gentry these days. Gambling, bad debts, unfortunate investments. She was not likely to find employment here now, if he didn't even have the funds to adequately staff his household. His uncluttered and austere parlor was thus explained. She looked up at him, hoping the blush didn't show too much in her face. She forged ahead only because she had no idea how to leave at this point with any grace.
"I am an experienced horticulturist, sir, come recently from London. My father and I provided service for a well-regarded family of Bond Street, so if you've a need for a gardener to aid you, I am quite capable of serving a grand estate such as this."
He gave her a long, assessing look. "It is unusual, is it not, for a woman to work in groundskeeping?"
"Not so much anymore, my lord, if you'll pardon my saying. Mrs. Wells Loudon has lately popularized gardening for women, and I have worked as my father's assistant for years. I am particularly interested in the cultivation of exotic flowers."
"Flowers must certainly benefit from the delicacy of a woman's touch." He strolled around the divan and took a seat opposite her, seeming to relax somewhat from his earlier state. He cocked his head to one side. "You were named for a flower, I gather. The delicate lily of the valley, or the showier calla lily? Perhaps the tiger lily?" His lips turned up in the very shadow of a smile.
The way he said tiger lily made her blush. Surely this was most irregular, for the lord of the manor to sit and converse with a tradeswoman this way. Perhaps she was in some danger here. Her misuse at the hands of Lord Horace was still fresh in her mind. Perhaps all these privileged lords just took what they wanted with no thought to consent. She cast a look at Lord Ashbourne from beneath her lashes. He did not have the predatory look Lord Horace had when his gaze had followed her around. In fact, Lord Ashbourne still looked quite stern and almost…sad. She thought again of his money difficulties. What a mess she had made, ruining his day by offering services he couldn't afford.
"My lord, please forgive me," she said, rising. "I made a mistake in coming here. I have disturbed the solitude of your afternoon. I won't keep you any longer."
"The solitude of this and every afternoon grows tiresome," he cut in. "Please do not go. Not yet."
She sank back onto the velvet divan and took some deep breaths, calming herself. He was not threatening her, although his attitude did seem rather commanding. His wife was away and he was apparently bored without her, but that did not mean he wished Lily harm. She clasped her hands in her lap and tried to exude calm amiability in her smile.
"Tell me about these flowers you've brought." He gestured to the basket at her feet. "Are these some of your greenhouse flowers?"
"Oh, no sir. I haven't my own greenhouse yet."
"Yet?" He seemed mildly amused by that. She lifted her chin.
"I know it is not common for women to be in trade, but I hope to have my own greenhouse and flower shop one day. It is an ambition of mine."
"I have great respect for ambitious women, Miss Lily. In fact, I would like to purchase some flowers from you. What is the cost of the flowers you have there?"
"Oh! You may have them if you wish. I brought them as a sample of my work."
"Nonetheless, I would prefer to pay you."
Lily looked down, and the simple potted blooms suddenly seemed rather pathetic compared to the rich, understated luxury of Lord Ashbourne's sitting room. She named a price that was probably too low but she couldn't bear to charge more, especially with her suspicion that her host was not well in the black. His expression darkened at her price and she nearly spit out a lower sum, but he interrupted her by calling for his man and sending him for the coin. She hoped she had not ruined the opportunity to gain employment with him, bartering over half-wilted flowers.
"I particularly love the brightness of marigolds," he commented quietly, just as she was thinking how shabby they were. His kindness cheered her.
"I love marigolds too. They come in so many shades and colors. In London we managed to propagate a stunning yellow-red variety."
"Are marigolds your favorite flower?"
"No, my lord. I am partial to bulbs, but they are not in season now. There are so many beautiful ones. Daffodils, tulips, lilies."
"Ah. I am partial to lilies myself."
"Yes, my lord." She flushed, feeling stupid. He was staring at her with the strangest preoccupied expression. Then he abruptly sat up.
"Will you come back, say, tomorrow? I will be assembling a gardening staff soon and I could certainly use an experienced horticulturist like yourself."
"Why--yes. Gladly, my lord. You would not be disappointed in my services, I promise it, even if I am not a man."
Hanover, the servant who had first admitted her, returned with a leather purse and handed it to Lord Ashbourne. He shook out a handful of coins and crossed to drop them into her palm. She could not have counted them in front of him like some money-scrabbling merchant, but it was obvious he'd paid too much.
"Sir, are you certain this accounting is correct?"
"I paid a bit more to thank you for your trouble. Lilyvale is well off the beaten path and I appreciate you taking the time to come here."
Lily thought she should protest but she pocketed the coins instead, thinking of a warm bed at the inn at Smeeth. No. She needed to save, she needed to put away just in case. Her employment was still uncertain as yet. She dropped a curtsy.
"I appreciate your generosity so much, sir. I'll come by again tomorrow, I promise. It's not much trouble. The road here is lovely to walk along."
"Do you think so?"
He was standing at least an arm's length from her, but something in his gaze suddenly felt inappropriate. He was such a large man, and stood so straight and unyielding. His eyes were so intent. His arms at his sides looked tense, as if poised for action. She remembered the stance from another moment in time. She remembered how Lord Horace had looked at her just moments before he dragged her behind the bushes. Her cheeks flooded warm and her blood rushed faster. Foolish girl, tricked again! She had accepted his extra coin and now he would expect something in return. Her throat drew tight as he leaned closer.
"If you like, why not have a cool drink with me before you go? It's a warm day and I've offered you no refreshment."
"No!" Oh dear, she had practically shouted at him. She softened her voice and sidled for the door. "Thank you, my lord, but please do not trouble yourself."
What a thing to do, to invite a common girl like her to take tea alone with him in his parlor. It was clear to her now that he was after the same prize Horace had stolen from her by force. She infused her voice with all the authority she could muster.
"I really must be going, my lord. Though your kindness has been heartwarming, I must take my leave. At once."
Lord Ashbourne nodded, still studying her in a most unsettling manner. "Of course. I suppose you must return to Smeeth before evening comes on too strong."
"Yes, sir. Exactly."
"I would be happy to lend you the use of my carriage."
"Oh no, please." It got worse and worse. She needed to get away, and quickly. She prayed that he wouldn't press the issue. Fortunately, he conceded and bowed his head.
"Very well."
Oh, he was doing that strange frown again. Now she had offended him! She was making an absolute muck of everything. Why did he fluster her so much? It was the way he looked at her with those direct, unfathomable expressions.
"It…it was a kind offer," she said, trying to continue on assertively. "But I do enjoy the fresh air."
"Of course. It was only a suggestion. Well then, Miss Lily. Good evening to you." He stood back and gestured to Hanover, who handed over her now-empty basket. She stole one last look at Lord Ashbourne and he nodded to her somberly as she took her leave with another curtsy.
He was a beautiful man, she couldn't deny it. But even beauty like that, even the promise of more coin could not compel her to lie under him and endure what she'd endured at Horace's hands. Lord Ashbourne was even bigger than Horace, much more fit and virile. If he laid his hands on her she would not be able to get away.
No, it was best to leave and do any further business with the housekeeper or Lady Ashbourne. Hopefully they would be in attendance tomorrow, for she did not want to give up possible employment simply because of his overly familiar ways. As she started down the path away from Lilyvale, she remembered the coins in her pocket and reached in to ascertain if he had really overpaid her as she suspected.
Oh, good heavens--he had paid her three times what she asked for! It had been an anxious visit, but worth her time. She ignored the rumble in her stomach and trudged down the road until she found the shady clump of trees where she had stowed her cloak and satchel. She sat and took off her shoes and stockings to rub her aching feet and think.
* * * * *
James watched the young woman leave his parlor. Her unexpected arrival filled him with both hope and dejection. So many undisciplined thoughts and so many questions. Where on earth had this Lily come from? London, if she spoke truth.
But he was damned if she wasn't the very vision of his Lilliana.
Well, not his anymore. Lilliana had never really been his. And Lily wasn't exactly like Lilliana. They had the same thick auburn hair, the same pert nose and strong chin. Lilliana's skin had been paler though, and Lily was thinner by a bit. Even Lily's eyes favored Lilliana's, although the green looked slightly darker than he remembered. Lily was perhaps a few years older than Lilliana, and Lilliana had been a lady, not a common girl.
But Lilliana was not a lady anymore, no more than this Lily was a common anything. A lovely, well-spoken female horticulturist working on having her own business one day. He moved to the window to watch her make her way down the path. Even her bearing reminded him of Lilliana. She did not slouch and drag like so many working women, but stood tall and walked with a sort of determination in her step. She stopped and dug in her pocket, bringing forth the coins he'd given her. He'd overpaid her terribly, but the poor woman was clearly destitute. Her clothes were threadbare, her shoes worn and her face pinched with hunger. But her gentle manners… Who was this woman? And more to the point, why did she look as much like Lilliana as a twin?
"Hanover!" His servant bustled into the parlor as if he'd been waiting just outside. "Follow her," he said. "See where she goes and that she arrives safely. Make a note of her place of domicile."
"Yes, sir. Wasn't she the very picture of Lady Lilliana? I knew when I saw her at the door, I had to come get you straightaway."
"You were right to come get me. Now follow secretly. I don't want to cause her alarm."
"No, sir."
Hanover exited and James was left with memories of her. Who? Lily or Lilliana? For a moment the woman had seemed both. He felt very much the same as the day he first laid eyes on Lilliana. He had wooed her with the zeal of a madman, captivated by her beauty and spirit. He was never one for mice and chickadees. He thought in Lilliana he had found a lioness to his lion, and imagined them sharing a long and fruitful marriage of fond conversation and passionate lust. He thought if any woman could appreciate his creative intellect and hedonistic proclivities, it would be Lilliana.
But she had not appreciated a thing about him, not in the slightest. She'd pretended to, but it had all been a brilliant act. As it turned out, Lady Lilliana had given her heart to another long before James had walked her down the aisle. Given herself both literally and figuratively. She had eloped with another man, a penniless tradesman, weeks before their wedding even took place. By the time James found out, she had fled to Calais with the sod and disappeared, leaving behind a humiliated "husband" and a family determined to cover things up.
And they had to cover up the scandal, at least for another year, or until the missing shrew could be found. Lilliana's younger sister Lady Claire would be coming out next season, and even in his anger and despair at her sister's faithlessness, he could not bring himself to rob gentle Claire of her chance at a good match. Whenever he chafed to expose Lilliana's treachery, the image of a snubbed and rejected Claire silenced him again.
So here he waited, hidden away in his country manor. He had let go most of the staff so as not to have to explain Lilliana's absence. Only his faithful Hanover remained, and Hanover's mother as housekeeper and cook, although in all honesty she was too mentally infirm to do much. She was trustworthy and that was enough for James. Trust was something he had lately found in short supply.
The future held many questions. A year-long absence from London could be explained away by pregnancy. But then the following year they would be expected to produce the fruit of this condition, or else explain it away with whispers of a miscarriage. He thought with spiteful malice of spreading rumors killing Lilliana off in childbirth, even staging an elaborate funeral. When the mourners were gone, he would very much enjoy dancing on her grave. But if they managed to find Lilliana and drag her back…
No, as much as he would enjoy it, he could not kill her off in some false tale. Anyway, if her death was put about he would be expected to marry again, and he never intended to do so. Inconstant, selfish women. So many lies, such a web of deception to navigate and none of it would hold up under the scrutiny of light.
Until now.
Lily, the ambitious gardener, looked remarkably like Lilliana. Enough like Lilliana to keep wagging tongues in the village at bay, and even put in a few appearances in London. If he could convince this girl to pose as his absent wife just for a time, just through the end of Claire's season… At the very least he could stop hiding out like a pathetic cuckold. He took it as some kind of lucky harbinger that even her given name fit the bill.
But it would not exactly be an uncomplicated matter. Lily mentioned family in London. For all James knew, she had a husband back in London, or children. He knew nothing at all about this Lily except that she looked like Lilliana and spoke of propagating marigolds with charming enthusiasm.
After taking a solitary evening meal, James returned to the parlor. He sat down at the chess table and fiddled with the pieces, wondering if Lily knew how to play. He had to think how to convince her to go along with his idea before she returned tomorrow. It would be a very delicate matter to arrange. James was poring over the ins and outs of how to manage it when Hanover returned. James looked up, shocked to find the room nearly plunged in darkness. Hanover lit a lamp and approached with a sober look.
"My lord, I followed the mistress but she didn't go back into Smeeth."
"Didn't she?" Another false woman. She wasn't what she claimed, or she lied, or both. "Where did she go?"
"Sir, she has gone to the stables."
"Lilyvale's stables?"
"Yes, sir. She doubled back at dusk and went inside. I stood and waited to see if she was a horse thief or some such but I didn't hear any ruckus. When she didn't come out a good half hour I went in and found her fast asleep in the far stall."
James crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair.
"Sleeping, you say?"
"Yes, my lord. Like an angel. She does resemble Lady Ashbourne through and through, doesn't she?"
James' expression turned brooding. "Please do not refer to Lilliana as Lady Ashbourne. She was never my wife. But yes, she does favor her."
The valet's voice softened. "It must have been a shock to you, my lord, seeing that young miss. Bringing up unpleasant memories, I reckon?"
"The memories I can deal with. I only hope Lilliana returns at some point to bail us all out of this muddle, not least her poor sister."
"I don't think she'll come back, sir. Pardon my plain talk."
"It is your plain talk I like most about you, Han. Why don't you think she'll come back?"
"I hate to speak ill of a lady, but I don't think she would ever expect you'd take her back after what she did, running off like that. Although I know you would."
James knew he would take her back too, for appearances, and the thought incensed him. He waved his hand dismissively. "Either way, it is out of our control. Of more pressing concern is the young woman sleeping in my stables."
"Yes, sir. Shall I take her out some blankets then?"
"Good Lord, no. She cannot remain there. It's already begun to rain and the stalls flood."
"You'd like me to fetch her then? Drive her into the village?"
"In this weather?" James looked doubtful. "No. Not yet. Hanover, I confess I am considering a most unorthodox plan. A most ridiculous plan. I quite wish you'd talk me out of it."
Hanover's thin lips spread into a grin. "Oh, I think I won't, sir. I daresay I won't. Not I."
* * * * *
Lily yelped when the gentle hand shook her, and sat up, clutching her cloak to her chest. She had fallen onto the hay and drifted off nearly at once, exhausted, only to wake and find Lord Ashbourne's manservant standing over her with a lamp.
"Oh, I am so terribly sorry, sir," she said, scrambling to her feet. "I only hoped to find shelter for one night. I meant no harm. It is such a long walk back into town and I didn't want to trouble your lord for permission. If you will just communicate to him my most profound apologies--"
"Come with me, miss," he said. "Lord Ashbourne does not wish you to sleep out here."
"Of course not. It was very wrong of me to do so. I'll leave at once."
"No, I only mean that he would like to offer you shelter in the manor."
Her mouth fell open in horror. "I simply couldn't. That would not be proper at all."
"His lordship won't take advantage if that's what you're worried about. He's not that type."
"Even so, sir, it is just…it is not appropriate for me to…especially with the lady not at home--"
"He wishes to speak with you on a matter of great importance, if you would be so kind as to follow me back to the parlor."
Lily made a quick curtsy, shouldering her bag and backing away. "Please, begging your pardon, I am needed back home. I just remembered. I--my family--in the village--"
"I heard you telling his lordship that your family was in London."
"Oh, aunts…cousins… They are up in…Smeeth… They are expecting me…" She fell silent, feeling ridiculous in her lies. "Oh, this is just so irregular. It is late and I should not be here. I feel caught in a very humiliating position. Please, if you would just tell your lord I would prefer to go."
"Do not go."
Lily spun with her heart in her throat. Lord Ashbourne stood in the stall door in his same velvet finery, with his same proud, rigid stance.
"I understand you may find this somewhat distressing, but it will be no less distressing to me to imagine you sleeping out here in my stalls which are, sadly, prone to flooding. Or to imagine you making your way back to Smeeth in the rain at this late hour. Nor is it prudent to take the carriage as the roads wash out. I must insist you come inside. I pledge you will not be molested in any way. I do, however, have a business proposition for you. Please, if you will."
He stepped back as if to let her pass, and his man reached over to take her satchel. She snatched at it before she realized he only meant to help.
"Hanover, if you will put Miss Lily's bag in the fourth bedroom. The one just across from Mrs. Gertrude's. Please make the room comfortable for our guest."
"Yes, sir," Hanover answered over Lily's quiet exclamations of distress. As Hanover left, Lord Ashbourne stood waiting for her. She gathered her cloak closer about her and considered what to do. If she followed him into the house it would be as good as inviting him to bedevil her. Did it show so plainly, that she was a ruined woman? She tried her best to hide it, but perhaps he just knew by some subtle signals. Then again, what of his wife? She slanted a suspicious look his way.
Her reticence seemed to pain him. "Miss Lily, I am aware you do not know me, but I promise you my word is ironclad. I only want to offer you shelter as my guest, and to have a short conversation with you. Please."
Something in the way he said please calmed her. It was quite clear at this point she would have to go with him. He would accept no other outcome, and his man had already taken her things to the house. But his eyes and his voice when he asked her please made her think he was not, after all, a man of Lord Horace's ilk. With one last attempt at dignity, she raised her chin and preceded him out the door.
They walked together to the main house just as the rain began to fall harder--she with her cloak wrapped around her and Lord Ashbourne at her side leading her along. She paused inside his door, in his breathtaking foyer. Her shoes were muddy from the damp ground and she couldn't see tracking the filth across the marble floor. Nor could she remove her shoes and trot into the parlor with her toes poking through her holey stockings. In the end she scraped them as well as she could upon the rush mat while she stared up the grand staircase, wondering where Hanover had carried her satchel. In the darkness now the chandelier hovered over them, cold cut glass illuminated by candlelight.
Lord Ashbourne was beckoning her into the parlor. She saw an arrangement of mums and marigolds on the broad low table. Her flowers. In the faint lamplight the room was still beautiful, but changed. In the dark it felt more intimate, almost magical in its gilt formality. The flickering flames of the lamps reflected off the vases and crystal. She felt she was in another world, a quiet, coldly beautiful world. As Lord Ashbourne went to secure the windows, she sat on the same divan she'd sat on earlier. The sharp pitter-pat of rain from outside faded to a distant sound with the thump of the glass panes closing. Just as he finished, Hanover returned with a tray of biscuits and tea. Lord Ashbourne looked at the tray and back at Lily.
"Perhaps you might bring a full supper for our guest, Hanover," he suggested in a quiet voice.
Lily was already shaking her head. "I couldn't put you to the trouble. It is so late."
"And some of the fresh bread Mrs. Gertrude baked today, if you would," Lord Ashbourne added, ignoring her protests.
"Yes, of course, sir." Hanover bustled off with a swish of coattails.
Her host sat on the divan across the table and poured tea. She accepted the warm cup with a mixture of dread and thankfulness. She shouldn't be here, but oh, the china cup was so delicate, and the warmth of the tea made her sigh. She knew he watched her as she cupped her hands over the warm brew and let the steam and piquant mint aroma curl up into her face, over her nose and cheeks. But she didn't care. It had been a week or more since she'd had a proper cup of tea.
He looked away and then back at her, shifting and putting his own cup down. "Miss Lily, I'm sure you are exhausted, so I will attempt to be brief. Well, as brief as possible about what I must admit is a very complicated request. I only ask that you hear me out completely with an open mind. I would like to propose an arrangement I believe could benefit us both."
Lily's eyes widened in surprise. "What type of arrangement?"
"Let me begin by sharing a secret. It is a very painful and personal secret I must entreat you not to share beyond these walls."
"Of course. I won't tell anyone."
He took a deep breath. "Perhaps this will shock you, but the lady supposed to be my wife, Lady Lilliana, left me some weeks ago and absconded with another man to the Continent."
Lily gasped softly and turned her gaze to the muddied tips of her shoes on the floor. She hadn't the slightest idea what to say to such a revelation.
"I know, it is a most untoward circumstance. Worse, her family is anxious to cover up the affair, as am I, obviously."
She looked up at him. He didn't look angry, just resigned.
"But…" Lily felt terribly outraged on his behalf. First his difficult financial situation, and now this. "Why do you not just make her come back and take her rightful place at your side? She oughtn't to be allowed to behave so."
"I cannot make her do anything, unfortunately, since she can't be found. Besides that, our marriage was fraudulent from the beginning. She had already eloped with her lover before she stood beside me at the altar to say her vows."
"How utterly wretched of her!" To participate in such a sacrilegious ruse--it was quite astounding that any woman could do such a thing, even for love. "I can only say… I can only say I'm sorry. That was not well done of her, sir. Not at all."
"Yes, quite. And her mother is beside herself. She is terrified of scandal. Never got over some long ago to-do with her sister, and now this disgrace just as her younger daughter is about to come out. She is desperate to hide this coil, and for myself, I am perfectly happy to not marry again for appearances. Only…if I have no wife…" He spread his arms in a helpless gesture. "It is difficult to maintain appearances. But it is the strangest thing, Lily. You look almost exactly like her."
"Do I?"
"When I first saw you, I was not quite certain you were not Lilliana come back in disguise."
"Oh, I am not her. I promise."
"Of course I realize that now. But your resemblance to Lilliana has given me the most striking idea."
Hanover swept back into the room with a tray heavily laden with roast beef, boiled vegetables, bread, cheeses, apples and grapes. He dropped it on Lily's lap, bowed to them both, and left. Lily looked down at the repast. It was more food than she'd seen in a week. There was no point in protestations or quibbling, as the unmannerly growl of her stomach gave her away. She picked up the utensils and began to eat. The roast was delicious, tender and perfectly seasoned, and the vegetables were crisp instead of soggy. She broke off a piece of the crusty bread and dipped it in the beef gravy. By God, it tasted heavenly. She would make herself sick because she would eat every morsel of what was on the tray.
"At any rate," he went on as she tucked into the food, "it occurred to me that this coincidence might not go to waste. How do you feel about playing the part of my absent wife? Just for appearances, of course."
Lily choked on the piece of bread she'd just swallowed, prompting Lord Ashbourne to jump up and pat her firmly on the back until the morsel dislodged itself.
"Oh! Ah… Lord Ashbourne, sir--" she managed when she caught her breath again.
"Please do not issue an abrupt denial until you consider." He took up a place on the divan beside her. "I would not, of course, expect you to act as my wife in anything other than name. In return, you could enjoy the comforts of Lilyvale Manor, and my London homes as well."
"Your London homes?" Lily nearly choked again.
"Yes. We would need to put in brief appearances now and again to keep the gossips at bay. But this would only be temporary, as I said. A temporary arrangement until Lilliana returns, or until her sister is happily launched and married, which could be as soon as next year. At that time, in thanks for your assistance, I would help you establish your horticulture business in any town or borough you wished. Greenhouses, flower shop, anything. Your own business to run as you see fit. I think it is a very good trade, Miss Lily…" His brows rose in a question.
"Kendall."
"Miss Lily Kendall. And do I assume correctly that you have no familial ties that would hamper such an arrangement?"
She bit her lip. Was it so obvious then, that she was unloved and alone in the world? "It is true my family and I are estranged."
"I'm sorry to hear that. But what I meant is that you are not married or possessed of any dependent children?"
He was so cool and composed, and she so agitated. Her own greenhouses and flower shop. She could barely comprehend the idea, and yet... "My lord, I have no family ties whatsoever at present. But this offer… I am not sure… I'm not certain I can accept."
"Why not? Do you not like Lilyvale? I know it seems an empty, quiet place. I released most of the staff when Lilliana left, for obvious reasons, but they can be hired back if you agree to pose as my wife."
So he was not impoverished after all, only humiliated in circumstance. Her heart ached for this poor man. Society demanded appearances be kept up at any cost--but the cost of her assuming the identity of another? It did not sit right with Lily's conscience.
"It is only that…you see…Lord Ashbourne--it seems terribly deceptive to me. It would be tantamount to living a lie."
"I understand your misgivings. However, I assure you the deception would be a passive one. Most of the time you could continue to be yourself. In fact, I would be rather disappointed for you to take on Lilliana's identity fully, as she turned out to be quite a reprehensible sort. Do please continue eating."
Lily looked down at the forgotten food on her lap with a jolt. Her appetite was gone. She was tense and her nerves were jangling. Think, think, Lily. Consider carefully. Dare you do this?
Lily managed another bite of roast and cooked carrot and thought about what he offered. Food, shelter, the life of a gentle lady, and when it was done, a business of her own. She could return to London and support her family. Or perhaps quieter Tunbridge could become the new family seat. Her sisters could run the flower shop while she worked to her heart's content in the greenhouse, tending and developing new flowers. She would even forgive her father for his heartless actions and invite him to join her as a partner again. She saw now how poverty and financial insecurity could bring out the worst in anyone. She understood his anger now.
And Lord Ashbourne had said I would not expect you to act as my wife in anything other than name. So her unfortunate ruination would not be an issue between them, and she would not be subjected to any more…ruin. It was a good idea except for one thing.
"Do you think they will all believe?" Lily asked doubtfully.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I assure you, the resemblance between the two of you is remarkable. If your appearances in the greater world are brief and well-handled, I see no reason for anyone to suspect you are not her. And here at Lilyvale, she was barely known to begin with. If I hire new staff, no one will guess you are not Lilliana in truth."
"But Hanover--"
"Hanover will say nothing. He is my most trusted servant, and well paid for his loyalty. Mrs. Gertrude, while an excellent cook, is advancing in dementia. Even if she does not believe, no one will take her claims as anything other than delusions."
Lily bit into a grape, the sweet juicy goodness unfamiliar and cloying. She might eat grapes all day and all night as his wife. Her tummy felt full for the first time in weeks and she was safe and warm and sheltered from the rain. How on earth could she say no?
She looked over at Lord Ashbourne, at his composed, almost resigned face, and his eyes that captivated her with their pale blue depths. He sat forward on the divan, his hands braced on his powerful thighs. The candlelight illuminated the sheen of his dark hair and the directness of his gaze. Lily Kendall playing wife to this man, this striking, distinguished gentleman. That was what made her hesitate. She rubbed her eyes, overwhelmed by the decision.
"If you like, you can consider first," he offered. "Rest and let me know in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever you are sure."
He looked so tired. So sad. And so very handsome. Later, in the quiet comfort of the bedroom Hanover led her to, with the violent rain and thunder out of doors, Lily drifted to sleep thinking she would be an absolute fool to refuse.
Chapter Two: A Blessing of Circumstances
Lily stirred, still half-asleep and dreaming of a warm, dry bed and soft sheets. She fought wakefulness, not wanting to give up the cozy comfort for the harshness of the ground where she slept. She heard the sound of rain and distant thunder and dreaded the damp misery that would come when her dream dissolved into reality. Then, with a kind of wonder, she realized she wasn't dreaming at all. She remembered that she was in Lord Ashbourne's guest room, put to bed there last night after a full meal and a warm bath, and the rain and misery was outside where it couldn't touch her. She came to alertness slowly, basking in the unfamiliar softness of her nightdress, the floral-fresh scent of the sheets. She pulled them up to her nose and stretched beneath the soft linen, peering around the room in the weak light of the overcast morning.
How long had she slept? The strange events of the evening before came back to her as she looked around the spacious chamber. The bed she slept in was large and the other furnishings stood heavy and dark against the white walls. She noticed more of her own flowers on a table near the window. She bit her lip, remembering Lord Ashbourne staring at her as they bartered over price. She could never have imagined, when the Smeeth woman directed her to Lilyvale, how her life would change in one night. She was marveling over the capriciousness of fate, that she would so resemble his missing wife, when a high-pitched, warbling voice drifted in from the hall.
"Oh, and my bonny lass was smiling, and ohhhh--" The door flew open and an elderly woman swept in with a feather duster three times the size of her head, mincing about the room, singing in a broad accent. "How I loooved that bonny lass of mine-- Well now." The woman drew herself up at the bed, frowning down at Lily. "You don't say you and my lord have been in a spat again, missy? Oh, how these newlyweds carry on. And each time you choose a hidey-hole farther away. You know ye belong with your husband and not runnin' off to hide out in the guest rooms. Now get you out of bed and get dressed. Come now, Miss Gertie will do your hair up sweet so you can charm yourself right back into his good graces."
The old woman leaned down and took Lily's arm with a strength belied by her years, her gray curls shaking under an unkempt kerchief.
"Oh, men and ladies." She laughed, handing Lily a robe to cover her sleeping gown. "Today is a new day. Ye'll work these matters out between you soon enough, I expect. The master, he won't like to sleep alone too much longer," she added with a mischievous wink as she ushered Lily down the hallway. "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, don't ye, missy?"
"Erm…" Lily supposed this was the Mrs. Gertrude Lord Ashbourne had referred to, although she seemed not at all delusional, only a bit pushy and understandably mistaken regarding to whom she spoke. She steered Lily into a room nearly at the end of the opposite hallway, a room even larger, cozier and more luxurious than the last. The small sitting area at one side was done up in the same pale blue and gold Lily was now familiar with, and the furniture was covered in delicate crocheted doilies with assorted books, knickknacks, combs and powders. Lily's initial alarm subsided. This was not Lord Ashbourne's bedroom. This was a lady's room. Mrs. Gertrude had shown her to Lilliana's dressing room.
The old woman brought her some heated, scented water and a cloth, and then crossed to a large armoire, humming the same aimless tune under her breath. She pulled out a silk gown in pale blue. Lily began to think she might never see another color, but then she saw all the other variously colored gowns in the stuffed armoire. She had never seen so many gowns in one place in her life. "His lordship loves this color," Mrs. Gertrude said with a nod. "How about this gown then, milady?"
"Yes. I suppose." Lily spoke softly, unsure of the right things to say, or the way to say them, or how to act. How was she to play this Lilliana when she had never met her? She had only been at the playacting a few minutes and already she was making a muss of it. Mrs. Gertrude looked at her in consternation.
"Cat got your tongue, milady? Mumbly-bumbly. Are you feeling poorly?"
Lily cleared her throat and shook her head, blushing. "I am only a bit tired," she said, trying to infuse her voice with the polite but authoritative tones Lord Ashbourne used. It seemed to placate Mrs. Gertrude, who clucked sympathetically.
"Well then, I'll leave you to wash and dress and then I'll come do your hair right pretty like I said."
"Yes, thank you, ma'am," Lily said, prompting another strange look from the old woman. She tried to salvage the farce with a regal nod of her head. "That will be all." Mrs. Gertrude swept out, muttering something about locating her feather duster. Lily washed and dressed as quickly as she ever had in her life, barely taking the time to enjoy the fine soap and warm, crystal clear water in the china ewer. She did up the tiny satin-covered buttons at the back of the gown as best she could when Mrs. Gertrude did not return to help her, but she was certain she missed a few. She ran her fingers over the comb on the vanity, guessing Mrs. Gertrude would not be back to do her hair either. She twisted it into a messy tangle over her shoulder and went to peer out into the lengthy hallway. Seeing no sign of the woman in either direction, she left the door ajar and sat on the edge of the divan by the window to wait.
After some time, she decided she had best attempt to do her own hair. She crossed to the vanity and picked up the fine hairbrush lying on a mirrored tray. Lilliana's brush undoubtedly, as it was monogrammed with an L. A wedding gift perhaps. It looked unused. Lily began to drag it through her locks, which never seemed to want to cooperate.
At a sound at the door, she turned, expecting Mrs. Gertrude at last, only to find Lord Ashbourne standing there watching her. She flushed under his direct gaze. Somehow she got the feeling he had not just arrived, but had seen her gawking at Lilliana's fine things and whispering impatient curses at her hair. In fact, she thought he might have been suppressing a smile. Yes, the rogue. He had been watching her wrestle with the hairbrush and found it amusing. She felt foolish while he stood straight, a silent, elegant figure dressed in a gray morning coat and light trousers. He greeted her with a small bow.
"Good morning, Miss Lily."
"Good morning, Lord Ashbourne." She looked down at the dress she wore and the brush she held, neither of which were her own, and thought she must seem awfully forward. She stammered out a quick explanation. "Mrs. Gertrude…she brought me here this morning and bade me dress in this gown. She was going to come do my hair but she hasn't, and I fear I have fumbled the buttons in the back just awfully."