Lady Olivia's Undoing (18 page)

“Shall Rupert and I stay here with you
tonight, dearest?” Beatrice asked. “I do not think you should be
alone.”

Olivia waved her hand. “No, darling, that is
not necessary, but I thank you for your kindness. No, I will be
very well after I have a good night’s sleep.”

“Are you certain, Olivia,” Joanna asked. “I
do not think you should be alone either.”

“No, my anger will keep me company. Tomorrow
morning I will call upon Fitzhugh’s solicitors and they will set
everything to rights. Honestly, do not worry. I am very well.”

Joanna said, “If you need anything, I am only
moments away.”

“Thank you, Joanna. You are very kind.”

Joanna left the room.

Beatrice stared down at Olivia. “Are you sure
you do not wish us to stay. Olivia, you cannot fool me. I know this
evening has been tumultuous on your nerves.”

Olivia smiled. “Honestly, Bunny, I am well.
If you think I would do myself harm, you must think again. The only
one I wish to harm is Reginald. And he will get what is coming to
him. Darling, I will finish my drink, then I will sleep, and
tomorrow I will fight Reginald’s claim with everything I hold
dear.”

Beatrice looked dubious, but nodded her head.
“Very well. I shall call on you tomorrow to see how you are
feeling.”

“Thank you, dearest. Thank you for
everything.”

Beatrice departed and Olivia sipped her
drink. Damn Reginald! Damn him to hell! Foisting that
imposter
on her. As if Stephen Summerville could be the Duke
of Caymore. He was nothing more than an American shipbuilder. If
Reginald thought to present him into Society, he had another thing
coming. Olivia would crush him like the insect that he was.

There was a small tap on the door. “Your
Grace?”

“Yes, Mr. Manning, come in.” Olivia rose from
the bed.

Manning opened the door, but remained in the
doorway. “Your Grace, are you all right?” Manning looked
worried.

“Yes, Mr. Manning. I am perfectly well. Mad
as a hornet, but perfectly well.” She placed her drink on the
table. “Let us down stairs. There are a few things I must discuss
with you.”

In the yellow salon, Olivia sat in her
favorite chair. “Do sit down, Mr. Manning. I cannot have you
hovering over me.”

Manning sank onto the sofa.

“As you are well aware, this evening did not
go as I had planned. Tomorrow we will be inundated with callers and
those gossips who only want the latest news. I wish for you to tell
them I am not receiving. As a matter of fact, I will not be
here.”

“Not here, Your Grace? Where will you
be?”

“I cannot tell you, Mr. Manning. I do not
wish for you to become embroiled in the chaos that surrounds me.
However, what I wish for you to say for the next several days is
that I am not receiving. After that, you may tell those who enquire
that I am away from home. On Twelfth Night you may take the knocker
off the door and return to Haverlane’s.”

Olivia rose from the chair and walked to the
escritoire
in the corner. She opened a drawer and pulled out
two envelopes, one large, and one small. She handed the smaller one
to Manning.

Manning stood and opened it. He stared at
several ten-pound bank notes. “Your Grace, what is this?”

“Some may call it a bribe for your silence.
Others would call it a gratuity for your help over the last week.
I’m calling it a gift for you and your mother.”

“Your Grace, I cannot accept this.” Manning
held out the envelope.

“Yes, Mr. Manning, you can. I insist.” She
pushed the envelope toward him. “You have taken great care of
me.”

“Your Grace, that is my job.”

“No, Mr. Manning, it is not. You have gone
above and beyond the requirements of your job. And I do wish to
thank you most sincerely. This…” she handed him the larger
envelope, “…are references and final wages for the staff. Would you
be so kind as to hand them out tomorrow?” She had planned on
allowing them a small holiday while she was at St. Anne’s Court
waiting for William and Penny to move in to Caymore. However, after
what Reginald did this evening, she would be damned if that Stephen
Summerville had any of
her
staff to begin his household.

Manning took the packet and nodded.

“How is Summers taking this?” Olivia
asked.

“He is very worried for you. He was in such a
state we had to call the doctor.”

“Where is he? In his room?”

Manning nodded.

“I will speak with him before I leave. Is
Andrew about?”

“Yes, Your Grace. He is in the dining room,
helping to clean up.”

“Would you ask him to step in and wait for me
while I speak to Summers?”

“Of course, Your Grace. Is there anything
else I may do for you this evening?”

“Yes, if you would be so kind, could you
please inform Hendricks I would like the carriage readied. And do
tell him not to bring it round front. I will meet him in the
mews.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Mr. Manning for all your help.
You are the very best of men.”

Olivia left him and knocked on Summers’ door.
“Summers, are you awake? It is Lady Olivia. I wonder if I could
have a word with you.”

He called for her to come in. “Forgive me,
Your Grace for not rising. I am not feeling very well.”

Olivia noted the laudanum on his bed table.
“You remain right where you are, dearest.” She pulled up a
straight-back chair and sat down next to his bed.

“Did you witness the apparition, Your
Grace?”

“No, dearest,” Olivia said. “It was not Lord
Fitzhugh’s ghost, but an imposter play-acting as his son. Lord
Hargrave thought to do me a harm by bringing this man into our
home.”

“Lord Hargrave?” Summers asked. “Why would he
do such a cruel thing? And to you of all people? Your Grace, it
cannot be borne.”

“No, Summers, it cannot. And that is why I
mean to go away, to escape the gossipmongers. As you know, Mr.
Manning will be returning to Haverlane’s and Andrew has found other
employment. I wonder if you would like to stay here at Caymore or
would you rather return to Westerly Manor?”

“How long will you be away from home, Your
Grace?” Summers asked.

“Several months as it were.”

Summers closed his eyes. “I think I would
like to return to Westerly Manor, Your Grace. I am too old to be
here alone.”

“Of course, dearest. I will have Hendricks
bring you back in a few days.”

“A few days,” Summers murmured. “Yes, a few
days.” He was asleep.

Olivia pulled the blankets up to the old
man’s shoulders, leaned down, and kissed his forehead. Then she
returned to the yellow salon.

“Ah, Andrew,” Olivia said, as she entered the
room.

“Your Grace, are you all right?”

“Yes, Andrew, perfectly well. However, I must
speak with you. Come in and sit down.” She led him over to the
sofa. She sat in her chair. “Do sit down.”

Andrew sat.

“I have just spoken with Manning and Summers.
Summers wishes to return to Westerly Manor. Manning is going to
remain through Twelfth Night. His orders for the next several days
are to inform my callers I am not receiving. After that, he is to
say I am away from home. On Twelfth Night, he will remove the
doorknocker. I would like you to remain here with him so you may
tell me who has called.”

“You wish me to spy for you, Your Grace?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, Andrew, I do. Lord
Hargrave is surely to arrive at some point looking for something to
support his claim that Mr. Summerville is my late husband’s son. He
may or may not bring several other people with him. I need to know
who comes to this house.”

“Shall I prevent them from taking anything?”
Andrew seemed to like that idea.

Olivia smiled. “No, Andrew, for there is
nothing to take. I have already removed all of Lord Caymore’s
private papers from the house.” When she and Jennings packed,
Olivia took the complete contents of Fitzhugh’s desk and files,
down to the last quill nib. His study was empty.

“Before Manning goes, I would like you and
him to cover the furniture, and close up the house. Then you may
join me at St. Anne’s Court.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Andrew, it goes without saying you will not
tell anyone, and I mean
anyone
, where I am.”

“Of course, Your Grace. You may count on my
discretion.”

“Thank you, Andrew. You’re a good lad. I will
see you next week.”

Andrew rose from the sofa. “Good night, Your
Grace.”

“Good night, Andrew.”

Olivia returned to the
escritoire
and
took out another envelope. Yesterday she had taken all the money
from Cook’s pantry and the butler’s purse. After paying the
servants, a few hundred pounds remained. Her fingers closed around
the envelope. There was nothing more to do except leave.

She took one last look at Fitzhugh Leighton’s
portrait hanging over the fireplace.

“Good-bye, dearest,” she said and walked out
of the yellow salon.

27 December 1811

Last night at the Duchess of Caymore’s Boxing
Day Ball, His Grace, the Duke of Hargrave surprised everyone by his
announcement he had found the long lost heir to the Caymore duchy.
Mr. Stephen Summerville, an American shipbuilder, is purported to
be the late Duke of Caymore’s son.

The announcement left everyone at the ball
shocked, most notably Lady Caymore herself, who fainted and was
carried from the room. Friends and relatives were stunned by the
news. His Grace, Charles Leighton, Duke of Olmstead vowed he would
investigate this astonishing claim made by his cousin.

William Smith, Earl of Westerly, made famous
by Lady Caymore when she requested the Letters Patent to the
Caymore duchy be approved for him, said he has no reason to dispute
the claim. He had no further comment.

At Caymore House this morning, when this
reporter asked for an interview, he was refused. One can only
imagine how the Duchess is feeling.

30 January 1812

On 26 December, His Grace, the Duke of
Hargrave, informed Lady Olivia Leighton, Duchess of Caymore, he had
purportedly found a Caymore heir. The news has left London Society
agog. Mr. Stephen Summerville, an American shipbuilder, the alleged
heir, has refused to comment. The Duke of Hargrave’s official
statement:
My late uncle requested of me on his deathbed to find
his son. I have done so, and I will do everything in my power to
see his claim to the duchy upheld.

All interview requests to the Duchess of
Caymore were denied. On 6 January, this reporter found the
doorknocker removed from Caymore House. A footman stated Lady
Caymore is now traveling abroad and will not return to London for
some time.

The Patent Committee for the Crown, which had
been investigating, has stalled due to insufficient evidence. It
seems the Duchess of Caymore is needed for the confirmation of
several facts surrounding the claim. Now that she is out of the
country, what will happen to the Patent?

Olivia sat in the breakfast room on St.
Anne’s Court, sipping tea and looking over her list for the grocer.
She and Nella were heading to Simpson’s as soon as Nella finished
sorting the pantry.

The doorknocker rapped loudly.

Olivia rose from her chair. “I shall answer
it, Nella,” she called out.

Fanny Black, her neighbor, had taken to
calling nearly every morning for a chat. She was a nice woman,
although long-winded, and Olivia was glad she had an excuse to
escape this morning.

The doorknocker banged again.

“Yes, just a moment,” Olivia said. She pulled
open the door.

Stephen Summerville stood on her front
stoop….

Coming soon from Shore Road Publishing,
…

From the moment Lady Ariana Leighton met Mr.
Stephen Summerville, she lost her heart. However, when Mr.
Summerville was introduced to her younger sister Arabella, Ariana
knew that Stephen had lost his.

Ariana surrendered the notion of love with
Stephen Summerville.

Yet, she left a tiny piece of her heart open
– hope would always remain.

New York City

November 1811

Standing in the overheated grand ballroom of
the Astor mansion in New York City, Ariana Leighton wound her
pearls around her fingers and desperately wished she could leave.
The pasted smile on her face made her cheeks hurt, and her toes
curled and uncurled in her too tight slippers. She could not wait
to return to the hotel and finish packing. Her father, the Duke of
Hargrave, had decided he’d had enough of the
Americans
, and
they were finally returning to England. Ariana could not wish it to
come fast enough. For all the traipsing about in the last year, for
all the entertainment she had found, Ariana only wished to be back
in her own home, in her own room, and to see her old friends once
more.

Oh, the Americans were amusing, and somewhat
civilized, but they were not English and had no sense of
correctness, if that was what one could call it. They called her
father, duke, not
your grace
, and although it was polite in
certain Society, coming from an American somehow made it sound
vulgar. They did not adhere to teatime, which her mother Constance
insisted on, nor did they refrain from spewing the most indecent
gossip. Idle rumors plagued the London
ton
, the more
salacious ending up on page six of the
Times
or the
Ladies Gazette
. However, gossip in London seemed more like
idle chatter, whereas the Americans turned it into a blood
sport.