Summerset Abbey (3 page)

“And it’s no wonder,” Mr. Barry put in quickly. “It’s been a trying day for all of us. My deepest condolences, Miss Buxton.”

“Thank you.” She turned to her uncle. “Have the guests left?”

“The last of them are leaving now. The servants are taking care of it. Shall we be seated?”

She liked Mr. Barry, who wore his thin, hawked nose like a badge of honor, a contrast to the untidy tufts of white hair now
freed from his hat. He went to her father’s desk and opened a valise. As he sat at her father’s chair, Rowena looked away and took one of the seats in front of the desk. Her uncle sat at the other.

Mr. Barry cleared his throat. “There are really no surprises here. Your father not only had the allowance from the family estate, but he received a good sum of money when he was knighted. He invested well, and you and Victoria are the only beneficiaries.”

She nodded. Who else would there be? As the youngest son, her father had no precious title to bestow on a male heir.

“However, he did appoint your uncle as guardian of your financial trust until you reach the age of twenty-five or marry an appropriate man, whichever comes first.”

She frowned, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that your uncle or his solicitor will pay all of your expenses and oversee your investments until you are old enough to inherit. It was your father’s way of protecting you and Victoria from common fortune-seekers.”

On the surface, it seemed reasonable, but underneath, the first stirrings of unease niggled. Did that mean her uncle would be in charge of her life for the next three years? Or that he had to approve of her choice of husband before she could marry? Not that marriage was imminent, but the thought of having to consult with her uncle on expenditures . . .

“So really, nothing will change, correct? Our household expenses and bills will simply be sent to my uncle instead of my”—she choked slightly on the word—“father?”

Mr. Barry nodded. “Exactly.”

Her uncle cleared his throat. “Your aunt and I discussed the matter and we feel it best if you spend the winter at Summerset.”

She chose her words carefully. “Thank you for your offer, Uncle, but I think it would be beneficial for Victoria if we did not make too many changes all at once. We should stick as closely as possible to our regular routine . . .” Her voice trailed off, knowing how impossible that would be with her father’s absence.

“Would you please leave us, Mr. Barry? This is family business now,” Uncle Conrad said.

The solicitor nodded. “Again, my condolences, Miss Rowena. Your father was a good man and a good friend.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

When Mr. Barry had gone, her uncle turned to her, his eyes kinder than she had ever seen them. The family resemblance to her father took her breath away. They had the same firm jaw and aquiline nose and the same green eyes. No, not the same, she decided. Her father’s eyes were warm and humorous, whereas her uncle’s were somber, no doubt from years of carrying the responsibility of the family estate and title.

“Don’t you think it would be better to make a complete break with the past? The house will be full of sad memories for you and your sister. Besides, your aunt Charlotte and I aren’t sure we will even keep the house. The house in Belgravia is much larger and better located.”

Her head jerked up. “What do you mean, not keep our house? Of course we’re keeping our house! This is our home!”

“But for how long? When you and Victoria are married, you both will have homes of your own. I’m not entirely sure I want to have the expense of maintaining two London houses.”

She leaned forward, gripping the arms of the chair. “Why should you have to maintain it? The expense will come from father’s money, surely?”

“The house did not belong to your father,” he told her gently.
“It belongs to the estate. My father bought it for him as a wedding gift, but retained the deed.”

She glanced around her father’s beloved study, which wasn’t his after all. And because it wasn’t his, it wasn’t hers.

“Please don’t sell it,” she pleaded. “What about the furniture? The servants?”

He patted her hand.

“I did not wish to upset you,” he said, placating her. He stood as if the conversation was over. “These decisions do not have to be made today. But I must insist that you and Victoria accompany me home. We will be laying your father to rest in the family crypt. Surely you wish to be there for that. And Victoria loves Summerset.”

She leaned back into the chair, trembling with anger and loss. “Of course. When do you wish to leave?”

“Decency demands we do it as soon as possible, but I have business to attend to in the morning. We can leave the day after.”

His voice sounded relieved that she wasn’t making more of a fuss. But why would she? She wasn’t a child and his arguments were reasonable. She would deal with the house issue at a later date. She could not allow him to sell their home. But right now, she just wished to escape to her room to think.

“Very well,” she said. “I will have Victoria and Prudence pack their things.”

Her uncle had turned to the door, but now he paused. “There is no need to bring servants. You’ll be well cared for at our home, as always.”

She stiffened. “Prudence isn’t a servant.”

“Of course she is. She was the governess’s daughter. It’s only because of your father’s generosity that she was kept on after her mother passed.”

“My father loved Prudence, as do my sister and I,” she flared. “She is part of the family.”

Her uncle blanched. “I’m afraid your father allowed you and your sister too much latitude concerning this girl. She certainly is
not
a part of the family.”

“She is! She’s been a member of our family for almost as long as I can remember. He treated her no differently than he treated Victoria and me. She was educated with us, went shopping with us, and—”

“Your father was a good man, but he had dangerously liberal convictions. I allowed him that privilege because he never disgraced the family name. Though not formally introducing you to society came perilously close.”

Rowena stood and faced her uncle. “We were so suitably introduced to society! Both Victoria and I were presented to the Queen, as is proper, but neither one of us wanted a coming-out ball. We detest that kind of showy, excessive waste. Did you know you could feed one hundred families for a year on the money spent just on the flowers for one ball? We did our duty by attending the occasional society or charity function, but we simply weren’t interested in that sort of thing. Our father respected that.”

His jaw tightened. “That is precisely what I am talking about. How are you to find a suitable husband if you don’t enter society? Your aunt especially has been worried about the both of you. I should have stepped in years ago. Never mind that now. You and your sister will accompany me to Summerset and Prudence will remain in London.”

His voice was implacable and Rowena stilled, her stomach coiling into knots. Instinctively, she knew she would get nowhere if she defied him outright, but leaving Prudence behind
was unthinkable. She took a deep breath and, keeping her voice steady, tried a different tactic.

“Prudence has been like a sister to us, but more important, she has always been Victoria’s companion. No one can settle Victoria as she can, and Victoria is so delicate . . . With our father’s death, I’m afraid one more loss would be harmful to her health.” She paused, letting that sink in. To deny his sickly niece her companion would seem heartless. Besides, even her uncle had a soft spot for Victoria. “If you will allow us to take her as our lady’s maid, it would be beneficial for Victoria, as well as being perfectly appropriate. Surely you wouldn’t deny us our lady’s maid?”

She pressed her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes. Inside she seethed.

Her uncle’s jaw worked. They both knew she’d backed him into a corner. “Of course, if you insist. But just remember, she is coming as staff, not a guest in our home.”

He inclined his head and left the room. Trembling, Rowena fell back into the chair and covered her face with her hands. The enormity of her responsibilities choked her.
Father, what have you done?
A man who had raised her to independence had essentially shackled her to a man who didn’t believe women should be independent at all. She could lose the house, Prudence . . . everything.

Drawing in a deep breath, she collected her thoughts. How independent had she been, really? She knew nothing of finances and had never bothered to ask. She’d had all of the freedom, none of the responsibility, and stupidly she’d never even know what to ask for. She’d been selfish, thoughtlessly flitting from one whimsy to another, never learning anything useful. No wonder her father had given financial responsibility to his brother.

It was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make again. Not with Prudence and Victoria depending on her, even though the
thought of having people depend on her for good decisions terrified her. Decision making had never been her forte.

She stood, glancing about the room, at the wooden telescope by the corner window, the globe she and the little girls had played with so often, pretending to be world travelers, the lamb’s wool rug she and Prudence had lain upon, their toes pointed toward the fire as they read.

It was up to her to keep this precious room and her little family intact. There was no one but herself to do it.

V
ictoria had a secret.

It was the first thing she thought of in the mornings and the last thing she thought of at night. She hugged it to her breast like a treasure that was hers and hers alone. Of course, her father had known her secret, as did Katie, the parlor maid, but since he was gone now, it really, truly was her very own.

Papa
.

Again, the overwhelming feelings of loss clawed at her insides and she curled up into a ball, pulling the coverlet tighter around her chin. The early morning sun streaming through the gaps in the curtains glanced off the French bird’s-eye maple headboard, causing it to shimmer and gleam as though it were a living thing. She traced the inlaid floral pattern of the wood, her finger leaving a smudgy trail in the wax.

Papa
.

Restlessly, she slipped out of bed, kicking her legs to untangle them from the fine cotton nightgown that covered her from neck to toe. It often wrapped itself tightly around her in the night, making her feel as though she were in a burial shroud. Next to her, Prudence sighed and slipped further down under the covers to make up for the loss of Victoria’s warmth. Victoria didn’t
like to sleep alone. Nightmares plagued her sleep and Prudence’s warm presence comforted her.

Katie had already started a fire in the cream-tiled fireplace, and it burned cheerfully behind the brass screen, fighting off the autumn chill. Victoria’s dressing gown and knitted slippers had been placed on the ottoman in front of it to warm. She wrapped the dressing gown around her, frowning at the satin pink ribbons and rosettes adorning the sleeves and yoke. Rowena had bought it for her last Christmas, and though Victoria hadn’t told her, it always made her feel like a child.

Rowena had come into her room last night to tell her they were shutting down the London house and moving to Summerset for the winter. She loved Summerset, but there was something Rowena wasn’t telling them, she could sense it.

The only secrets Victoria enjoyed were her own.

Frowning, she curled up on the velvet window seat and opened the curtains just enough to see out. Below, the dairy truck was delivering milk, cheese, butter, and eggs. At every stop, kitchen maids would meet the deliveryman at the door for their goods so that when their employers arose, there would be fresh cream for morning tea or coffee. She knew the servants would bolt their own breakfast sometime between when their employers awoke and when they came downstairs for their meal.

Victoria knew that servants had secrets, too. For instance, she knew Katie sometimes stole food from the larder and sent care packages to her mother in the East End. She’d always suspected her father knew about it, too, and chose to turn a blind eye.

She watched until the dairy truck disappeared down the street and then returned to her thoughts. What could Rowena be hiding from her? And worse, how would moving to Summerset affect
her own secret? She glanced toward her closet where she kept her beautiful new Underwood Number 5 typewriter hidden, deep in the back where Rowena and Prudence would never find it. For several months, instead of going to piano lessons every week as the girls thought she was doing, she had joined Katie at Miss Fister’s Secretarial School for Young Ladies to learn typing and shorthand in secret. She hugged her arms about herself. Perhaps Miss Fister would let her continue the course by correspondence? She would go and ask her this morning while the girls were busy packing. She would think of some excuse to get out of the house.

Of course, now that her father was gone, Victoria’s secret studies had lost some of their appeal. She’d originally taken the course so she could help him with his work. The ability to type would come in handy when cataloging various plant species, and shorthand would make taking notes as he worked on his lectures much easier. As a child, she’d sworn that she would never marry, but stay with him forever so they could travel the world together, looking for exotic plants in faraway places. He’d laughed at that but agreed, and kept her secret. He knew how dearly she loved secrets.