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Secrets and Lords
Justine Elyot
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
More from Mischief
Copyright
About the Publisher
Edie Crossland pulled another bramble from her skirt, then put her bloodied finger to her mouth, looking up with dismay at the gathering clouds. Her feet were sore and she’d had enough of it.
It was not that Edie was unused to walking. Her footprints were sunk into the paving stones of Bloomsbury and Holborn many times over, mixed with millions of others. But the London streets hardly compared with this new terrain. The grass verge of the road was bumpy and thick with weeds, and sometimes it disappeared so that Edie was forced back on to the narrow track that led out of Kingsreach from the station.
She could have been sitting up on the box of a pony and trap sent from the Hall, making this trip in relative comfort, carpet bag stowed safely at her feet. But she had not wanted her first view of Deverell Hall to be contaminated by the inane chatter of some fellow servant. So she had deliberately omitted to send them advance warning of the train she would be on, as she had been asked to do. When questioned, she would shrug and assume the letter was lost in the post. These things happen.
Words she did not particularly care to dwell on, given the context in which she had last heard them. The nagging, dark feelings overcame her again and she stopped for a moment, swallowing the bitter taste that came to her mouth.
As if in answer to a silent prayer for distraction from the misery of a stroll that now felt like a death march, there came a distant roar, like an approaching swarm of bees, from somewhere behind her. It was not thunder, although that looked likely, nor could it be attributed to any of the livestock in the surrounding fields. She was far enough away from the railway now to rule out a train.
It grew louder and louder and all she could do was look over her shoulder, transfixed with a vague fear that seemed to go hand-in-hand with her earlier brooding. Her legs weakened just as a gleaming silver fender appeared at the bend of the road, then the cream-coloured body of a motor car. It zoomed past her, expelling great gaseous clouds that made her splutter in their wake.
Of course, she thought with relief, they must have such things in the countryside too. But she had not seen one near the station or anywhere on the streets of Kingsreach until now. It must be heading for Deverell Hall. But to whom did it belong? Maybe to … But no. That was unlikely.
A fat drop of rain landed on her back. She had not thought to bring an umbrella. Sighing, she lowered her head, with its meagre protection of a cheap straw hat, and began to hurry, cursing the fashion for narrow skirts as she shuffled along.
* * *
A further half an hour passed before Edie’s first glimpse of Deverell Hall, and by then she was so thoroughly drenched and utterly miserable that a fairy palace would scarcely have impressed her.
The turrets were bare outlines against the black sky, every finer detail obscured by the driving rain. Edie perceived a great many windows and a prospect that would normally have delighted her. The road led downwards amidst lush green woodland until the landscape opened up, neatly planned and bordered, and the pale ribbon of driveway brought the eye to the stately entrance of the house. She saw fountains at the head of the drive and a hint of some formal gardens to the left side of the building. It was very much as she’d imagined and yet somehow less real.
‘It’s because of the weather,’ she told herself. ‘I never thought of it in the rain.’ In her imagination, Deverell Hall was impervious to the elements.
The sighting gave additional impetus to her journey, although she was fading with weariness, wetness and hunger now. She dragged her aching feet onwards, under the arching trees, for another half a mile.
As she emerged, another blast of engine noise made her jump to the side of the driveway, just in time to be splashed to the knee by the same cream-coloured car. Its driver, a dark-haired man in an expensive coat, cigarette in the corner of his mouth, did not pause even to look at her as he hurtled onwards and away from the estate.
She half-turned after him to remonstrate, but was surprised to see another car coming in the opposite direction, towards her. This one was less flashy, sleeker and quieter. All the same, it made a harsh coughing sound as it slowed down and came to a halt behind her.
A fair-haired man in a uniform wound down the window and stuck his head out.
‘You the new girl?’ he asked.
She nodded, too wet and cold to speak.
His stunningly blue eyes crinkled sympathetically at the edges.
‘You’re pretty much there, but hop in anyway. I’ll take you the rest of the way in style.’
She hesitated, tightening her slippery grip on her bag handle.
‘Come on,’ he insisted. ‘Don’t stand there like a statue.’ He opened the passenger door.
The first flash of lightning over the roof of Deverell Hall made her mind up for her. She scampered over to the other side of the car and climbed carefully inside and pulled the door shut. ‘I’m going to get the leather all wet.’
The man laughed, a glint in his eye. ‘It’s seen a lot worse.’ He put out a hand skinned in a tan driving glove. ‘Ted Kempe,’ he said. ‘His Lordship’s chauffeur. Delighted to make your acquaintance.’
‘Edie,’ she said, putting her own hand in his larger one, enjoying the warmth of the small squeeze he gave her fingers. ‘Edie … Prior.’ Close
