Chapter One – Arriving in London
England, spring 1806 (or a variation thereof)
Twenty Years Later
The moment Beth stepped out of the stagecoach and found herself immersed in the crowded city that was London, her heartbeat quickened. Never had she seen this many people in one place. Never had her ears hummed with the deafening sound of their chatter as well as the unfamiliar echo of wheels churning on cobblestone. Never had she gasped for lack of air, her chest constricted, and feared that she would faint.
Stumbling to the sidewall of the inn that most of the passengers streamed into, looking for a hot meal or a room, Beth forced herself to remain calm, drawing one long breath after another into her lungs until her hands stopped trembling. Then she lifted her head and allowed her eyes to travel over the unfamiliar sights before her.
Indeed, it was crowded, loud, and harsh. Dust seemed to fill the air, and a terrible stench assaulted her nostrils. Yet, there was beauty here, too.
The brilliant blue sky sparkled against the outline of the city, its tall buildings soaring upward, their walls impenetrable and forever, a far cry from the simple country houses that Beth had known her whole life. Angry shouts as well as happy chattering reached her ears as she watched carts pushed along the street. The smell of freshly baked goods wafted around her, mingling with the sweet smell of flowers up for sale at the next street.
London was truly a city of many faces, where variety took on a completely new meaning.
Was this where her mother had grown up? Beth wondered, and a pang of grief jolted through her chest at the reminder of her mother’s death…as well as the secret she had taken to her grave.
Forcing another deep breath into her lungs, Beth turned down the street in the direction a fellow passenger had indicated. As she walked, eyes on the hustle-bustle around her, her hand searched inside the bag slung over her shoulder. For a split second, her heart stopped when her fingers came up empty, and she feared she had lost the one clue to her mother’s past…as well as her own.
However, a moment later, her fingers found what they had been looking for. Trembling, they pulled the small envelope from the bag, and Beth’s gaze shifted to the slightly faded address written in her mother’s hand on the front.
Who lived there? She wondered for the hundredth time since the day she had sorted through her late mother’s belongings and found more than she’d ever expected to. Would she find family she knew nothing of? Had her mother worked there?
Growing up in a small town in the south of England, Beth had lived a rather sheltered life. Although they never had much, her mother had always taken care of her and worked as a seamstress to improve their financial situation since Beth’s father had died shortly after her birth. Never had Beth questioned her mother’s word or the story she had told her about her life or her family.
Not until the day after the funeral…when Beth’s whole world had come crashing down.
When her mother had suddenly taken ill, Beth had never expected to lose her. Always strong, always confident, her mother had been the image of life. And then a fortnight later, she was gone.
Overwhelmed by grief as well as a strange sense of detachment as though her mother’s death had only been a bad dream, Beth had sat in her mother’s room for days, hugging her clothes to her chest and inhaling her scent, afraid of the moment it would finally fade away. Again and again, her fingers had run over the spine of her mother’s favourite book and caressed the delicate embroidery on her pillows. How could she be dead when all her things were still here? Beth had wondered, knowing how irrational such a thought was, and yet, unable to comprehend the new reality her mother’s death had forced her into.
And then she had opened a small box she had found in the back of her mother’s cupboard.
Inside had been a small purse with coins, which had bought Beth the seat on the stagecoach to London, as well as an old journal, its binding worn.
Reluctantly, she had opened it, desperately wishing to feel her mother close again if only for a moment. However, inside, she had found a side of her mother she hadn’t known existed.
While her mother had always seemed steadfast and unerring, the thoughts written on page after page spoke of an inner turmoil. Unfortunately, these thoughts were rather disorganised, spilling forth without structure or explanation, and so Beth could only catch a glimpse of what was written there.
From what she could gather, her mother had left her home years earlier−why, Beth did not know−and although she had deemed it necessary at the time, doubt and regret had slowly grown in her mother’s heart.
Confusion as well as a spark of anger and disappointment had begun to take root in Beth’s heart upon learning that her mother had kept all this from her. Although she had tried to learn more, spoken to her neighbours, the town’s pastor and then anyone else who had known her mother, she had been unable to learn more. No one had known her mother until the day she had arrived in town over twenty years ago, her little daughter in her arms. No one could remember her mother ever speaking of her past, her family, or from where she had come. No one knew anything.
And then Beth had found this envelope in the back of her mother’s journal, and it had provided the only clue that might help her discover what had happened.
Taking a deep breath, Beth stopped at the corner of a busy street and for a moment closed her eyes before reading through the letter once more, its contents committed to memory days ago.
Dear Clementine,
I hope this letter finds you well. Please, do not worry about us, for we have arrived at a safe place. However, I deem it best if you do not know where we have gone. All I can do is assure you that we are well and once again express my regret for the turn our lives have taken. More than anything, I regret leaving you although I know that there could have been no other way. In my heart, I hope that one day we will meet again. It is a wish that carries me through the dark moments.
With all my love,
Ellen
Who was Clementine? Beth wondered for the hundredth time. A friend? Family even? And why did her mother have to leave? Why had she not been safe? All these questions and more spun in Beth’s head as they had for the past few weeks since discovering the letter.
Opening her eyes, Beth looked down at the faded address on the envelope. Fortunately, her mother had never sent the letter, and now, it was Beth’s only chance to find out what had happened.
Once more asking for directions, she turned down a wide street framed by large townhouses, their windows sparkling in the early spring sun. The street was filled with fine carriages, and lords and ladies in exquisite clothing strolled up and down the pavements.
Glancing down at her own simple gown and travelling cloak, Beth frowned. Surely, her mother had not lived in this neighbourhood. Maybe she had been employed here though.
As her eyes drifted over the long row of townhouses, her feet carrying her onward, Beth felt her heartbeat quicken once again. “Which one,” she mumbled, her gaze shifting from door to door, searching for the number listed on the envelope in her hands.
When she finally found it, her feet halted abruptly, and her breath caught in her throat. Staring up at the massive building, its groomed bushes and trees as well as its iron gate, Beth swallowed. Ought she to knock on the door? Whoever lived there, would they even permit her inside?
Once more, she glanced at her simple clothing, then turned her head up and down the street unable to decide what to do.
“Oh, thank God, they sent someone,” a melodious voice exclaimed from behind her.
Spinning around, Beth found herself looking at a young woman, a warm cloak wrapped around her shoulders and a basket full of eggs and vegetables dangling from her arm. “Excuse me?” Beth said, reminding herself that the young woman could not possibly know her.
“Come, come!” Looping her free arm through Beth’s, the young woman pulled her through the iron gate and around to the back of the house. “With the flu going around and everyone out sick, it’s been quite hard on the rest of us as you can imagine.” Turning her head, the young woman looked Beth up and down. “Have you only just arrived in town?”
Beth nodded. “I’ve come here to enquire−”
“What’s your name?”
“Beth. Maybe you can help me. I’m looking for−”
“We’re very short-staffed at the moment,” the young woman prattled on, “so I don’t think Mrs. Hill will be too much trouble.”
“Mrs. Hill?”
“The housekeeper,” the young woman elaborated. “She’ll be grateful to have an extra pair of hands, I’m sure.”
As they neared the back door, Beth finally realised that maybe luck was on her side after all. If she were hired as a maid, she could spend some time in this house and carefully question everyone who worked there. After all, it had been twenty years since her mother had worked here. Who knew if there were any servants still working here who could have known her back then? And besides, what little money she had was almost gone.
“I’m Sally by the way,” the young woman giggled. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get carried away.” Then she swung open the door and pulled Beth into a large kitchen. However, only two servants stood at the worktable, preparing a meal, a look of relief coming to their eyes as they saw Beth.
“I’ve brought help,” Sally exclaimed triumphantly. “Where’s Mrs. Hill?”
“What took you so long?” a stern voice demanded from the kitchen entrance across the room before a rather large woman came into view. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Sally reproachfully. Then her gaze shifted to Beth, and she lifted her hands to rest them on her wide hips, her eyes narrowing even further as she surveyed the potentially new addition to her household. “What’s your name?”
“Beth.” Lifting her head, Beth met the older woman’s scrutinising gaze. Although her mother had raised her to be respectful toward others, especially her elders, she had also instilled a sense of self-esteem and pride in her daughter that forbade Beth from dropping her gaze to the floor. “Beth Walker.”
Pinching her lips, Mrs. Hill surveyed her once again. “Fresh off the stagecoach?”
Surprised, Beth nodded.
“You have that look,” Mrs. Hill answered Beth’s silent question, then turned sharp eyes to Sally. “Why are you still standing here? Off with you! There’s a lot of work to be done before the ball.”
Casting a quick smile at Beth, Sally vanished through the door.
“Fine,” Mrs. Hill mumbled after a while, giving a quick nod with her head. “Follow me and listen carefully. I will only say this once.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Beth followed the older woman through the house, trying her best to listen to the rules of the house as well as her new duties while casting careful glances around, wondering if her mother had ever walked these halls.