into gear and pressed on the accelerator. Trixie, her motorcar, roared down the gravel drive and through the open main gates.
When Julia arrived, Diana met her on the drive. “Goodness, you look pale,” Julia gasped. “Are you ill? Is this about Cal’s—?”
“Not here.” Diana dragged her to the music room. Sunlight flooded in on the grand piano, the harp, the cluster of gilt-and-silk chairs. A maid came in with a tray of coffee and before Julia could ask her question, the countess burst in. Her plucked brows flew up in surprise. “Why are you here, Julia—?”
“To see me, Mother,” Diana said. “I asked her to come, since you are so upset. Julia will know what to do.”
“Yes, I suppose Julia will.” Lady Worthington sank into a chair. “Mrs. Feathers has quit! That man went down to the kitchens and questioned everything she did. Even suggested the servants should eat better and there should be less waste in the dining room. Apparently he cast some aspersion on her character—she believed he accused her of theft. She is packing her bags as we speak. He has done this deliberately to spite us, for where can one find a cook at short notice? He fired his valet, a hall boy and a footman this morning and he has driven away our cook.”
Julia stared, dumbfounded. Heavens, Cal had already begun.
“This is wretched,” she said. “How can he fire the staff when work is so hard to find?”
“Servants are hard to find,” Lady Worthington said, holding out her hand gracefully for coffee.
Julia poured and gave the countess a cup, then handed one to Diana, who looked everywhere but at her mother and tapped her foot anxiously.
“The earl declared they should find real work and ‘do better,’” the countess cried. “Do better than work at Worthington Park? Preposterous!”
Cal simply didn’t understand. Many of the servants didn’t want to “do better,” which often meant long hours in gruesome conditions in factories and offices. They took pride in their work running a great house.
The countess tried to set down her cup, but her hand shook so badly the cup overturned, spilling coffee. “Blast!” the countess gasped. Then she began to sob, burying her face in her hands. Diana stared helplessly, in shock.
Julia quickly put her arm across the countess’s shoulders. “I will see about this, I promise. I will stop him.”
“Stop him?” The countess lifted her head from her hands. She had turned a terrible shade of light gray and looked deathly ill. “What do you mean?”
Julia swallowed hard. “Did Cal tell you he intended to do this? Did he speak of any plans he has, now that he is the earl?”
“I do not care what he wants—” Lady Worthington broke off, putting her hands to her mouth. Through them, she cried, “I wish we could be rid of him! But we can’t.” She turned to Diana. “The only way I can see that we might have some protection is to have influence over him. As his wife, you would exert some control. Go and find him.”
“Go and find him and do what with him?” Diana protested.
Lady Worthington had been on the verge of collapse. Now she became commanding and strong once more. “We are desperate, Diana. Go at once and make him fall in love with you. It is the only hope we have.”
“Mummy, one doesn’t just go up to a man, especially a horrible, obstinate, hate-filled man like that, snap her fingers and make him fall in love.”
“You’ve always been a determined flirt, Diana. For heaven’s sake, put it to good use for once!”
Diana burst into tears, turned and ran from the room.
“The girl is being an utter fool! Does she not see what will happen to us if she does not do this? She must marry the new earl.”
Cal’s arrival—and the fear of what he would do—had changed Lady Worthington completely. Julia had never seen her behave cruelly with her daughters. “Diana is just as afraid as you are,” Julia said softly. Probably more, she thought. “Please don’t be harsh with her.”
“I must be harsh, or we’re ruined. I suppose she is balking at her duty. She is behaving like a foolish modern girl who wants to marry for love. I suppose she has fallen in love with someone unsuitable, just to spite me.”
“How—?”
“Aha! I thought as much.” The countess fixed Julia with a penetrating gaze. Julia was astounded at the rapid change in the woman—she had been on the verge of collapse, now she was sharp and angry. This must be what sheer fear did to a person. And it appeared Cal hadn’t told her of his plan. Lady Worthington did not know the worst of what Cal wanted to do.
“Who is she in love with?” the countess demanded.
Julia swallowed hard. She believed in honesty but she had to lie for Diana. “You are wrong. She is willing to marry him. For all your sakes.”
“Do not sound so disapproving with me, Lady Julia Hazelton. I will protect my family at any cost. Remember that.”
“But Cal is in pain, as well,” Julia said. “I do not approve of what he is doing, but it comes from a place of great hurt. Was there a horrible thing that was done to him? If I knew what it was, I could—”
“It is none of your business!” The countess’s voice crackled like ice. “Now go. Please.”
“I will. I will go to see Cal and try to put a stop to this.”
She must do so—just as she had promised Anthony she would look after his family. He couldn’t have known such a disaster would strike, and it now seemed so sad and eerie that he had begged her so passionately to take care of them all.
She marched out of the room, but as she reached the hallway, she heard the countess erupt into violent sobs. Julia hesitated. Did the countess need her?
She paused just outside the door, her hand on the door frame.
“I will lose everything,” the countess gasped, through choking sobs. “John, you wretched fool. I would have protected you. You didn’t have to take your own life.”
Julia was stunned. Lady Worthington had lost her eldest son, Anthony, at the Somme. And her youngest son, John, in a motorcar accident. But surely, John’s accident had not been deliberate? It had been a foggy night. It was assumed John had taken a wrong turn—the gate to the lane leading to the quarry had been left open. In the poor light, he must have mistakenly gone that way, expecting the gate to be closed, as it usually was. He had gone over the edge—
Julia knew she should not go in now. The countess would be appalled to think her words had been overheard. But if she had kept such a painful secret for years—one Julia wasn’t sure how the countess could know—she had suffered greatly in silence. Julia wished to help.
She paused a moment, hoping to cover her eavesdropping, and knocked lightly on the door. Stepping back into the room, she saw Lady Worthington set down her cup. With a frightening calm, the countess said, “The curse is true. There is nothing left for me but tragedy.”
“Lady Worthington, please
