Authors: Rebecca King
Tags: #romance, #romantic suspense, #mystery, #historical fiction, #historical romance, #romantic mystery, #historical mystery, #romantic adventure
Tilly
swallowed and nodded. The sound of her name spoken in those husky
tones was strangely intimate. However, the ruthless menace hidden
in his words made her suddenly very glad that she wasn’t going to
be around to see how the culprit was ‘suitably dealt with’. She
didn’t want to know what he planned to do, but had the strangest
feeling that he wasn’t the kind of man one crossed and
forgot.
“
I am sorry, I must go. I have already taken up enough of your
time as it is,” Tilly sighed. She suddenly became embarrassingly
aware that she had overstayed her welcome.
“
What do you plan to do?” he persisted.
She
smiled obliquely at him. “I will be fine,” she whispered. Right
now, she hadn’t got a clue what to do, but wasn’t going to admit
that to him.
She
looked around for somewhere to leave the brandy, and eventually put
it onto the corner of his desk for the butler to deal with. She had
only taken a sip, but that was enough to make her already empty
stomach more than a little unsettled.
“
Before you go,” Harry sighed. He quickly removed several
coins from the secret pouch he carried, and followed her to the
study door. “I need to ask you for some information about what Mrs
Bolsworthy looks like.”
Tilly
turned toward him with a frown. “She is about middle aged, with
curly dark brown hair, and is rather rotund.”
“
Can you remember her eye colour?”
“
Grey, I think.”
“
What about her height. How tall was she?” When Tilly looked a
little nonplussed, Harry waved to his own tall frame. “Look at me.
Think about her standing in front of you. How tall was
she?”
Tilly
studied him thoughtfully. “About as high as your shoulder, I
suppose. Certainly no taller,” she mused. It was difficult to
ignore the flurry of awareness that swept through her as she
considered just how tall he was against her own smaller
frame.
“
One last thing,” Harry asked as he watched her clutch her bag
tighter and make her way to the door. He was aware that he was
deliberately trying to prevent her from leaving while his mind
raced to find a way to help her, but it was evident with each
minute that passed that he was going to have to let her
go.
She
stopped in the hallway and looked at him.
“
Did she give you her direction, the last time you saw her?”
He mentally sighed when she shook her head.
It was a
struggle not to gather her into his arms for a hug. Unfortunately,
at the moment, he couldn’t really reassure her about anything
because he had no idea what was going on himself.
“
Thank you for the brandy,” she murmured quietly when he
didn’t seem inclined to ask her anything else.
She
moved out into the hallway, painfully aware that he followed her.
“Please forgive my intrusion. I just had no reason to believe that
someone would do such a thing.”
“
I am sorry that they have,” Harry replied quietly. “I can
assure you that I shall be having words with my housekeeper about
who has had access to my desk. Meantime, I hope you find a suitable
position elsewhere.”
She
smiled at him and turned toward the servants’ door.
“
This way,” Harry murmured gently, and waved toward the front
door. She wasn’t a servant in his house so he would be damned if
she would use the servants’ doors.
He
glanced at the door to the servants’ quarters, unsurprised to see
it swing silently closed. Clearly, Dandridge had heard what he had
wanted to hear, and had returned to the kitchen to tell his wife
what he had learned.
Harry
opened the door and sighed at the steady downpour that awaited her.
He wanted to ask her to stay for a while; at least until the worst
of the weather passed, and actually opened his mouth to speak, only
for her to give him a brave smile, and march outside before he
could say a word.
Bitter
frustration surged through him at his lack of ability to offer
assistance to her. He longed to be able to go into the kitchen and
dismiss the wastrels who were undoubtedly sitting on their idle
backsides around his kitchen table, but he couldn’t.
If only circumstances had been kinder to them both,
he thought with a frown as he watched her walk
down the steps and hurry down his driveway.
He
sighed with relief when he spied his good friend, Barnaby pull his
curricle to a stop at the end of the drive. Harry stared at him for
a moment before he turned to look at Tilly, who was already nearly
out of the driveway.
“
Wait!” Harper called, and raced down the drive after
her.
He drew
to a stop beside her, and handed her the coins he had taken out of
his pouch. “These are to recompense you for the wasted post chaise
ticket. Please use it to purchase a ticket to another town. I hope
you find the employment you are looking for.” He saw her
instinctive objection on her face as she studied the money. “Please
take a word of advice, Tilly?”
Tilly
felt everything within her go still, and she nodded jerkily. Her
eyes met and held his.
He
didn’t want to frighten her, but the memory of the way Dandridge
had leered at her simply wouldn’t go away.
“
Please get the next post chaise out of the town. There are
some strange things going on around here at the moment, and I don’t
want you getting involved in them.” He placed the coins in her palm
and folded her fingers around them carefully. Rather than release
her hand though, he held on to it for several moments and looked
deep into her eyes.
“
Look after yourself, Tilly,” he murmured huskily. He could
see the questions in her beautiful green eyes, but he didn’t have
the time to answer them right now.
The
situation in the Rectory wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with
her out in the open where anyone might overhear. This was a Star
Elite investigation. The less she knew, the safer she was. Before
she could ask him something he would have to lie to answer, he gave
her hand one last, reassuring squeeze, and tried to ignore the
flurry of awareness that made his palms tingle as he turned
away.
It was
such a wrench to leave her standing in the pouring rain that, for
one brief moment, his footsteps actually faltered. It was only the
arrival of Barnaby at his side that kept him moving toward the
warmth of the house.
Tilly
stared after him; then looked down at the coins in her hand. She
wanted to call him back and return the money, but the coins he had
given her were all she had, besides the bag she carried.
She
watched the door close behind him, and suddenly felt hopelessly
alone in the world. It was a terrifying thought that made her
shudder in horror as tears loomed.
When a
particularly strong gust of wind swept up her back, she shivered
and turned away from the Rectory, and its false promise of a new
life.
With her
dreams shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, Tilly made her way
back toward the hugely unwelcoming suburb of Tooting Mallow, and
wondered what on earth she was going to do now.
“
Thank God you are here,” Harry said fervently as he closed
the front door.
“
Trouble?” Barnaby asked, and watched Harry throw his butler a
look that was so dark; so menacing, that Dandridge immediately
turned around and vanished from sight.
“
On my desk,” Harry sighed, and followed his friend into the
study.
Once
there, he handed Barnaby the forged letter Tilly had received, and
moved over to the window which overlooked the drive while his
friend read it.
To his
consternation, there was no sign of her in the road. She had
vanished so swiftly that she could have been a figment of his
imagination, but he knew that she hadn’t been because the faint
scent of lavender she had worn still hung in the air.
He
didn’t know which bothered him more, his inability to help her, or
the horrible feeling that now hung over him that by allowing her to
leave, he had just made the most colossal mistake of his entire
adult life.
“
I am sorry, Barnaby,” Harry said suddenly. “I will be back in
a minute.”
He was
only vaguely aware of the astonished look on his friend’s face as
he raced out of the house, but didn’t bother to explain. Nothing
mattered right now except correcting the wrong he had just
done.
He ran
down the drive, and scoured the area as he went, but there was no
sign of Miss Fenton, Tilly, anywhere. Where had she vanished to?
How had she managed to disappear so quickly? He scoured the area,
and studied the trees opposite the house, but couldn’t see any sign
of her. He even went to the top of the hill and looked down the
street that would take him down to the main road, but she wasn’t
there either. Without racing like an idiot down the main street,
and going in and out of each and every shop and tavern he came
across, he had to accept that she had gone.
“
Damn it,” he growled with a shake of his head. Anger burned
deep within as he turned around and hurried back to the Rectory to
see what his friend thought of the letter.
If he
had stopped to take a closer look at the trees not far from the
house, he would have seen Tilly at the base of one particularly
thick oak tree, partially hidden by shadows.
She
leaned against the prickly bark, and lost the meagre contents of
her stomach. She had only taken a tiny sip of the unfamiliar
brandy, but even that was too much for her already exhausted body
to cope with. When her retching finally eased, she was more tearful
than ever, and lifted a trembling hand to wipe the faint sheen of
sweat off her forehead.
Ten
minutes later, she finally stood up. While her stomach didn’t churn
so much now, emotionally she was desperate. Now that she was alone,
she couldn’t keep the tears at bay, and really had no reason to
withhold them. There was nobody outside given that was raining
heavily now, and it gave her a few precious moments to herself to
try to quell her panic and think about what she should do
now.
Unlike
an hour ago, this time Tilly had nowhere to go. She was all alone,
with nothing to her name apart from the contents of a rather
disreputable looking bag at her feet, and a few coins in her
pocket.
She had
no job; no source of income; and no prospect of sanctuary any time
soon.
What was
she to do now? She didn’t have the money to go back to
Lincolnshire. Even if she could get there, she had no family; no
kith; no kin; nobody whom she could turn to for help. She thought
about purchasing a broadsheet to try to find another job, but then
looked down at her dirt-stained dress and knew that it was futile.
Even if she could get an interview; and she had no idea what they
were; she would hardly be let into any reputable establishment
while she looked as though she belonged in a stable.
The
coins in her hand were suddenly very valuable to her, and it was
imperative that she spend them wisely. What should spend them on
though? If she used any of her money to purchase a room for the
night, the few coins she had wouldn’t last long. Then
what?
She
thought about what had just happened, and shook her head in
disbelief. Had Mr Tingay told her the truth when he had said that
there was no housekeeper job available? Or was it more likely that
he didn’t consider her worthy of the job? He had certainly been
interested in how old she was, and had been quite apologetic when
he had shattered her world, but had he been truthful?
Even if
he had lied, Tilly couldn’t ignore the fact that the current
incumbent, Mrs Dandridge, was at least twenty years older, and had
a husband who filled the role of butler. Tilly knew that she
couldn’t compete with that, and suspected that whether the
Dandridges’ were good at their job or not, Mr Tingay didn’t
consider Tilly old enough to be his housekeeper.
Her
thoughts turned to his warning that nobody would offer her a job
like that of housekeeper without wanting to interview her first.
That being the case, why would anyone send her a letter that quite
clearly offered her a job they knew didn’t exist? What was the
purpose of playing such a cruel and senseless trick on her? Why
would Mrs Bolsworthy do that to her?
Because
of Mrs Bolsworthy’s recommendation, Tilly was now destitute, with
no prospects, and no hope of redemption any time soon. Why would
anyone hate her so much that they would purposely throw her life
onto a path of such destruction?
She had
worked well for Lady Attingham. There had been no discord there,
and no reason to suspect that the old woman had not been happy with
her work. So why would Mrs Bolsworthy do such a heinous thing as to
recommend a job that she knew wasn’t available?
Tilly
swiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks, and made her way back
toward the main street. Maybe someone would be able to tell her if
there was a women’s refuge, or something, in the area. If she could
at least get a roof over her head, she could start to make
enquiries whether someone; anyone, needed a scullery
maid.