CHAPTER 2

Ellie quietly brushed a tear from her cheek. It was amazing that she could miss a woman she had never met. Perhaps it was the connection to her mother that made her so nostalgic, she wasn’t sure. Yet one thing she did know was that she had no desire to be going on this errand. Even if she had always wanted to visit England.

The plane gave a lurch as the landing gear touched down and the machine coasted to a stop. Ellie gazed eagerly out the small oval window at Gatwick Airport. The large glass windows of the dome welcomed her, graced here and there by British flags. Excitement coursed through her veins and Ellie felt a smile tug at her lips. Okay, so maybe she did want to be here. Just a little bit.

Despite herself, Ellie found she was grinning all through the airport and on to baggage claim, staring around at the people as if she were in another world. England. She had finally made it to England. She couldn’t wait to tell her father all about it.

As she walked out of the main doors of the airport, she spotted a man in a crisp black suit and cap. He was standing in front of a shiny black sedan holding a sign that read “Fitzgerald.” Ellie smiled shyly and got into the car, her eyes glued to the windows as they drove through the countryside.

It took nearly forty-five minutes to reach the town of Dover in County Kent, but Ellie didn’t mind at all. As they drove through the streets of town, she longingly took in the picturesque terraced buildings of red, white, and yellow brick silhouetted against the sheer face of the famous White Cliffs. It all looked exactly as she imagined it and Ellie couldn’t help but feel as excited as a little girl on Christmas. She loved the architecture, the Tudor-style buildings and the fountain in the town square, the feel of it all. Quietly thrilled, she gazed in astonishment as Dover Castle came into view on the horizon. The centuries-old fortress loomed over the town at the top of the hill, like a sentinel at the edge of the ocean. Ellie couldn’t help but feel as if she’d been there before, though she knew that was crazy.

“Must be all my research,” she murmured under her breath.

Before long, town turned to countryside and the road they were on led away from the ocean until finally, they turned on a narrow, paved road situated between two large stone pillars. Tall trees lined either side of the driveway until it gave way to an enormous manicured lawn rolling up and down plush, green slopes of grass.

Ellie let out a gasp. There it was. Hargrove House. It was just as beautiful as she imagined it would be. Stone steps led from the pavement that circled a gorgeous fountain to a heavy black door situated in the very center of a line of four tan stone pillars. On either side of the door were broad windows that illuminated the rooms within with natural light. The architecture was exquisite and Ellie thought she was in a dream. It was like a house straight out of her history books. It was three stories high, and at either corner, the stones bulged out to form what almost looked like a turret. She could only imagine the circular rooms within were the drawing room or the library. She hoped one on the upper floor was the master bedroom, as she would love to have the view from all those windows.

But you’re not staying, she reminded herself. You’re only here for two weeks, then back to your life. You have a father who would be miserable without your company and a dissertation to write. You can’t just run off to England and never look back.

Oh, but what if she could? The things she could learn! Being right there in the thick of it was better than any history book, even if she was two centuries too late. There was an entire side of her history that she didn’t know. She could learn about her family, her grandmother, her mother.

She could learn about her mother.

Forcing herself to calm down, Ellie gripped the golden locket she always wore around her neck. Inside was a picture of her mother and herself when she was just a child. The letter “H” was engraved on the back. She never took it off.

Stepping out of the car, Ellie smiled at the driver and the valet who rushed down the steps to collect her things. The front door opened and two men stepped out onto the sprawling stone terrace lining the front of the house.

“Miss Fitzgerald,” one of them greeted her politely, taking her small hand in both of his. “My name is Barnard Seton. Thank you so much for making the journey. It was out of your way, I know, but it was extremely important to your grandmother that her will be handled just so.”

Ellie offered him a small smile. “Hello, Mr. Seton,” she said, letting him lead her up the steps. She turned warmly to the other man standing there, hoping she came off as cordial instead of terrified. Ellie had spent most of her life absorbed in books rather than interacting with actual people, something her father frequently discouraged. But Ellie couldn’t help it. She was a researcher and she was shy. Being reclusive just seemed natural. The downfall, however, was that her interactions with others always seemed forced, causing her much awkward embarrassment. Like now.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” the other man said kindly. He was quite a bit older than Mr. Seton; two decades at least. His hair was white and clipped as straight and tidy as the suit he wore, not one thing out of place. Ellie wondered for a moment if all British men were as stiff and polite as these two or if her grandmother just had a certain taste. “My name is Reginald, and I am the head butler here at Hargrove House. Anything you need, ma’am, and you just let myself or Eileen know, we will make sure it is taken care of.”

“I’m sure you’re tired,” Mr. Seton said, to which Ellie nodded. “I will let you get situated, and I will be back first thing tomorrow morning to begin legalities.”

As there was no room for argument, Ellie merely nodded again. “Thank you, Mr. Seton.”

“If you would come with me, ma’am,” Reginald said, offering his arm, “I will show you to your rooms. No, no. Arthur will get your things, ma’am. You are the mistress of this house now. Our job is to serve you. This way.”

The inside of the house was just as grand as the outside. Dark wooden moldings graced the corners, ceilings, and baseboards, accentuating the striped cream wallpaper that almost glittered in the sunlight. The furniture didn’t exactly look comfortable, but it did appear expensive, and most of it antique.

Reaching out, Ellie slid one finger over a glossy marble table that looked centuries old. Suddenly the room shifted. Gas lamps replaced the modern lighting; large, heavy curtains surrounded the windows; the wallpaper was replaced with a rich Tuscan yellow; a lush, ornate rug lay beneath her feet.

Gasping, Ellie caught sight of her reflection in a mirror. Where she had once been wearing a soft cashmere sweater and a comfortable pair of jeans, she was now in a long muslin dress, cinched just below her breasts and sweeping all the way down to the floor. Her face was lightly powdered, her cheeks warm and rosy beneath a crown of delicate orange curls, but her eyes were no longer the shy but content green she was used to; instead they were filled with a deep sorrow and a sense of loss more powerful than Ellie had ever known, not even when her mother passed. Instinctively, she clasped her locket again.

“Ma’am?” Reginald’s voice brought her back to the present, and just like that, the room around Ellie was back the way that it was before.

“Yes,” she breathed, trying to orient herself again. She pressed a shaky hand to her chest to quell her racing heart. What on earth had just happened? “Yes, I’m okay. I suppose it felt like I was straight out of a Jane Austen novel for a moment.” Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to pull the covers over her head and not resurface again.

Reginald chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, ma’am. You’re not the first one Hargrove House has had that effect on. I believe your mother said the same thing to me once.”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “You knew my mother?”

“That I did, ma’am. Since she was a child. Ah, here we are. I’ll have Arthur bring in your things in a moment.”

Reginald opened a door to the left, smiled, then turned and retreated down the hallway, leaving Ellie to decipher her feelings alone.

The bedroom was just as fancy and expensive as the rest of the house. A large four-poster bed took up most of the floor, though there was an extravagant velvet armchair and tea table situated in front of a high bay window, and across the room, an armoire and vanity were polished to a shine. Candles were set here and there around the room, and the original candle brackets and gas lamps were still mounted by a far door which she assumed led to the restroom. Or the loo, as the British called them.

Throwing herself down on the bed and sinking into the luxurious bedclothes, Ellie giggled. She was in England. She had dreamed her entire life of coming to England, of coming here, to the house and the town where her mother had grown up, of seeing the White Cliffs and tasting the sea that her family had thrived beside. And now she was here.

Ridiculously happy, Ellie clutched a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes, letting herself drift off to sleep.