Masquerade (7 page)

“Don’t do that. I’ll wipe them off.” Dora studied the stickers on the trunks. “These trunks have been all over Europe.”

“Before I was born, my parents traveled extensively. I went with them a few times when I was little, but I don’t remember any of it.”

“Didn’t you say Ralph was going on a grand tour next year?”

Lottie’s head snapped in Dora’s direction. “Don’t ever say his name in my presence again.”

“I’m sorry.” Dora opened one of the trunks to check the space inside. If only the current fashion didn’t require the bulky padding of various bustles. Yet they were infinitely better than the full hoops of the previous decades. “How many gowns are you going to need?”

Lottie bit her lip and thought a moment. “All of them? Or should I assume Mr. Tremaine will shower me with a new wardrobe?” Lottie moved to her armoire and examined her dresses, pulling out the skirt of a royal blue silk, then one of deep rust, then a burgundy. Dora loved the vibrant colors that were in fashion. “I’ve always liked the blue silk because it brings out the blue in my eyes,” Lottie said.

“Did Ralph tell you that?”
Why did I say that?

Lottie stopped all movement and glared at Dora. “I told you not to mention his name. What’s wrong with you?”

Dora sank onto one of the trunks and shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m never snappy like this.”

Lottie sat beside her. “And you’re never rude. I’ve always been able to depend on your constancy and patience.”

With little trouble, Dora recognized what was bothering her. “You’re leaving for America, but I’m not. I’ll be left behind. Do I have a job here? Should I look for employment elsewhere? I’ve never worked for another family.”

Lottie jerked her head to look at Dora. “We’ll be separated. We’ve never been separated. We can’t be separated.”

“We don’t have a choice. The Tremaines only sent two tickets.”

Lottie stood. “Then I’ll ask Father to buy another one for you. It wouldn’t be first class, of course, but—”

“I doubt there’s the money.”

“Then I’ll smuggle you in.” Lottie opened a trunk. “Here, get inside and see if you fit.”

Dora got up and closed the lid. “I can only imagine what the ship’s captain would do with a stowaway. I have no wish to walk the plank.”

“But we can’t be separated.”

“We have no choice.”

Lottie opened the trunk again as if considering a way to make it work. Dora knew it was hopeless. No matter how much Lottie wanted Dora to go with her, it was not to be.

Then suddenly Lottie let the lid of the trunk fall, her face aglow with an idea. “As soon as I get there, I’ll get Conrad to send for you. I’ll tell him I can’t live without you and—”

“And you’ll bat your eyes and pout and smile and get your way.”

“It is what I do best.”

If anyone could get it done, it was Lottie. “So we’ll not be apart terribly long, then,” Dora said.

Lottie took Dora’s hands and spun her around. “Before you know it, we’ll both be in New York City. And your presence there will make the experience with the Tremaines far easier and bearable.”

Dora felt better.
If
it ever came to pass …

Even though Lottie was out of breath she kept walking.

She’d made a good attempt at accepting the inevitable. She’d made peace with her mother and would do so with her father when he returned from work. She’d made peace with Dora and had vowed to find a way for them to be together in New York. And she’d even forced herself to be practical and go through her clothes and choose which ones would stay and which would go.

Go.

The notion of leaving the house and taking a long walk had grown into a necessity, so when Dora was called to other duties, Lottie fled into the sunshine and the wide hills that surrounded Dornby Manor.

The coolness of the day was a good counter to her exertion. Although Lottie held a thought in the back of her mind that she was leaving this place and might never return, she could not allow the thought full access. She would think about that later. Right now she needed to find the joy the country always provided.

September heralded her favorite time of year. She loved the changing leaves of autumn and the way they’d relinquish their perch to carpet the ground. At the moment, there was still competition between summer and fall as to which would win: green or orange, warm or cool, lush or lean.

Happy or sad, wealthy or poor, loved or rejected.

Lottie stopped beneath the canopy of a huge elm and sat upon an ancient bench. She chided herself for not bringing a book. She’d read many books in this spot and had traveled to many unknown worlds here.

Soon I truly will be traveling to an unknown world. America.

She’d looked at the United States of America on a map and had been shocked to see its size. England was the size of a single state instead of a separate country. A person could easily get lost in such an expanse of space.

She blinked and straightened her back as though straightening the thought. “I could get lost over there …”

Lost.

Run away.

Missing.

Never to be heard from again.

The notion was frightening, yet …

In its own way it brought her comfort. If the Tremaines were a disappointment—if Conrad proved to be a man she could
never
marry— she could simply run away. Turn right when her mother turned left.

But what then?

Perhaps it wouldn’t matter. Once she was in New York and had adapted to the feel of things, she could go off on her own and start over.

And Dora could go with her!

She laughed at the thought. Two best friends exploring a new world? The possibility lessened the burden of her parents’ plan. Since they supported the marriage with the goal of Lottie being secure and cared for, surely they also wanted her happiness. What did it matter if she found happiness in a different direction?

Lottie lifted her face to the sky, letting the sun dapple through the leaves and caress her face.

It was a plan. A secret plan.

The best kind.

Dora was roused from sleep by an unknown sound. She sat up in bed and listened.

Voices were coming from the floor below.

It was still dark, but moonlight revealed the time on her dresser clock. Two-fifteen. Who was up at this hour—and why?

The sound of a horse’s gallop made her speed to the attic window. It appeared to be Derek, the stableboy, riding away as though a ghost were chasing him.

Someone had to be hurt or ill or …

Dora pulled a shawl over her nightgown and rushed downstairs. She didn’t need directions to the source of the voices, as the hallway contained Mrs. Movery wearing a robe, Mr. Davies in his uniform—sans tie—Miss Agatha, and Lottie.

Where were the elder Gleasons?

Lottie spotted Dora and hurried to her side. “It’s Mother. Her cough …”

Now that Dora’s ears were tuned to it, she could indeed hear a horrible hacking coming from Mrs. Gleason’s room. She heard Miss Agatha telling Mrs. Movery to make some tea.

Mrs. Gleason had suffered coughing fits before, but never one that sounded this severe. “What can I do to help?” Dora asked.

Lottie shook her head. “Mr. Davies sent Derek for Dr. Graham. Mother is coughing up blood.”

That wasn’t good.

“I don’t know what to do,” Lottie said.

Dora did a quick inventory and made an observation. “When your father comes out—”

“Father isn’t here.”

Dora was taken aback. “Not here? But it’s the middle—” She stopped before she brought more attention to his absence. “If no one is with your mother, why don’t you go to her?”

Lottie’s face looked stricken. “I wouldn’t know what to do. I’ve always made fun of her coughing, thinking she was exaggerating it for pity’s sake. But this is real, and it’s serious and—”

Dora gave her a little push. “Go to her. Let her know she’s not alone.”

Reluctantly, Lottie nodded and wove her way through the others until she disappeared inside her mother’s bedroom.

Left alone, Dora stood ready in case someone needed something, and did the only thing she knew to do.

Please help Mrs. Gleason. Help them all.

Lottie entered the room with trepidation. A lone gas lamp on the bedside table cast odd shadows. Her mother lay against a multitude of pillows, nearly upright. Her eyes were closed, her arms limp by her sides, one hand gripping a handkerchief tinged with blood.

Is she … ?

Mother opened her eyes. “Lottie?”

Lottie rushed closer. “I’m here.”

“Is the doctor … ?”

“Derek’s riding to get him.”

She offered a nod that was nearly imperceptible.

“What can I do?”

Another movement, this time in the negative. “Stay with me.”

“Of course.” Lottie felt completely awkward. What should she say? What should she do—could she do? “I’m sorry for being annoyed at your coughing.”

Her mother smiled. “I’m annoyed too.”

Another fit caused her to thrust forward. She fumbled for a bowl amid the covers, and Lottie helped her hold it to her mouth. Sputum and blood …

Lottie’s thoughts swirled with panic.
Help her! Please make my mother well!

The realization that she’d prayed surprised her. Even though she went to church with her parents every Sunday, sitting in the pews and bowing her head like a good daughter, she never said anything to God. Until now she’d never felt the need.

Until now.

So why would God listen to
her
prayers? Lottie knew the importance society put on getting a proper introduction. It seemed wrong to introduce herself to God so abruptly, wanting something, demanding something, begging for something.

Yet wasn’t that her forte? With few exceptions Lottie expected to get whatever she asked for. And up until the current financial trouble, her parents had been very generous. They’d never said no to—

One time they’d said no. A year ago Lottie had set her heart on getting a new wardrobe for their annual trip for the London season. But Father had restricted her to three new dresses and directed her to fill the gap with ones from her existing wardrobe. She remembered pouting about that.

She doubted her heavenly Father would condone pouting.

Mother moaned, a sound that ripped Lottie’s soul. She sought her mother’s hand and cringed to find it so frail and fragile. “Please tell me what to do,” she asked.

Mother’s eyes were closed, her body spent. She mouthed a word.

“Pray.”

Proper introduction or not, Lottie gave it her best attempt.

Chapter Four