Chapter Twelve

 

 

The carriage ride to Captain Wentworth’s home, an addition to the story I wasn't sure if I’d created with my lies or if we’d written it into the storyline, was new to me. We should have gone as a group to Lyme, but we were going to Wentworth’s, a home I didn't know he had.

Mary sighed and readjusted herself for a fifth time in a matter of minutes. “We must be nearing the house.” She leaned forward and glanced out the window.

Cramped in the small carriage with the sound of horse hooves around us, I glanced at Mary and the Musgrove girls. “Why didn't Anne come?” She hadn’t offered me an explanation, just that she didn't feel up to traveling. To hear her complain was odd and obviously a lie to avoid coming. I didn't know who had created it, Anne or me.

“She was unwell. Said she didn't feel up for the trip. She’s off to Bath in the morning to see Father and Elizabeth.” Mary yawned. “I’d say she made the right choice. This must be twice the distance to Bath.” She switched around again, visibly annoying Louisa.

“You could have also stayed behind, Mary,” Louisa muttered.

“You know very well I can’t be without Charles. It’s awful for my condition to have to shift for myself, alone in that cottage.” She said “cottage” like it was the worst word in the world.

I smiled gently at Henrietta and then glanced back out the window. The murky stains made seeing through difficult, but I noticed all the glass in England was like that.

Men shouting interrupted our awkward silence, making us all glance out the window on the far side from me, seeing what I had to assume was our destination. It was massive and creepy, clearly based on Sir Walter Scott’s home in Abbotsford. I blinked and wondered if we’d added this to the story. The house was a favorite of mine. It was odd that this would be the house Wentworth lived in.

But my memories of the architecture of code and creation felt a million miles away, locked behind a haze I couldn’t muddle my way through. The fact this was a story was becoming jumbled.

I made a mental note of that and hoped I would recall it all when I woke.

The moment the carriage stopped, we all groaned climbing out. My butt had never hurt this much in my life. My hips and joints ached as I forced my way from the tiny opening. I swear the carriage got smaller the farther we went.

The Gothic estate was better up close than anything I’d ever imagined. My eyes danced across the brick façade and staircases leading to gardens and patios.

We were surrounded by lush gardens filled with purple heather and carved hedges in strange shapes. One side of the shrubbery had a long path where the stone wall had repeating arches with vines crawling up them. The staircases did as well. But the home was clean and neat. Everything was tidy, even the gravel. Benches lined the pathways, providing places for ladies to sit and enjoy the sun.

The uneven rooftop was trimmed with small turrets and gables.

Wentworth beamed as he dismounted and turned to us. “Are you ready for the ride to be over?” he asked us, jokingly. He’d been in an increasingly better mood for days.

The four of us ladies nodded, ready to be as far away from the carriage as humanly possible.

He offered Louisa and Henrietta his arm as Charles offered Mary his. I strolled behind them, gaping like a fool who had never seen a magnificent home before.

As we entered the large archway leading through the front door, my breath hitched.

“Are you ill from the ride?” Charles glanced back at me.

“No. I just adore architecture.”

“I see.” He chuckled.

I wasn't behaving as a lady of stature would, but I was stunned by even the entrance. As a Gothic revival of the late eighteen hundreds, the house couldn't be more wrongly placed in the story, but I didn't care. It was beautiful.

The ornate fireplace of the entrance hall captivated me as we were led past old suits of armor, family crests, and hunting trophies. When we got to the staircase and hallway, I got lost. There was too much to see, too many books and paintings and ornate tiles.

“If you wish to freshen up after the ride, Mrs. Humboldt will be happy to show you to your rooms.” Wentworth nodded at us all expectantly.

“I don't need to freshen up,” Louisa exclaimed boldly. “I want to explore. Is there a dungeon?”

“No.” Wentworth half laughed.

“I am exceedingly exhausted,” Mary remarked to the old lady awaiting our decisions at the bottom of the stairs.

“I would prefer to freshen up as well.” I gave a soft smile to the old lady.

“As you wish. Follow me, please.” She started up the stairs, moving much faster than I expected.

“Your things will be brought up,” Wentworth added as he left us and disappeared down a dark hallway. Louisa and Henrietta giggled and ran off down the hallway we had come in.

The candles and lanterns weren’t bright enough to light the house to the extent modern electricity would have, but the dim glow added to the spookiness of the corridors and dark wooden décor.

Shadows danced in obscure corners and along the hall where closed doors created mystery as we were hurried along the upper floor.

Mrs. Humboldt stopped at a heavy wooden door with a skeleton key in her hand, unlocking the large latch with a click. I was terrified to enter the room, scared of what she had locked in or if she was locking something else out. “This will be you, Miss Dalrymple.”

But when I got inside the doorway, the daylight flooding through the massive windows took all the creepiness away.

The giant four-poster bed and ornate furnishings made the room too beautiful for me to be scared.

I crossed to the bed and climbed in, lying on my back and wondering how the days spent here would play out. If we would rest or ride or adventure around the gardens? I imagined the food would be sumptuous as the home was, rich and overly done.

Wentworth’s history worked its way into my mind.

Was his family fortune meant for someone else when he asked Anne to marry him all those years ago, or did he come into money beyond what he had made in Spanish gold? The house was something he wouldn't have afforded before becoming a captain, and yet he had just landed back on shore. It was confusing but there was no way to ask him. I would have to discreetly ask the maid.

I snuggled into the feather bed, feeling blood begin to circulate back into my legs and butt.

I would have to live and die at this house. I was never getting into another carriage.

When I was certain I had spent enough time refreshing, I got up and forced myself to leave the haven of my new room. I didn't need refreshing, my hair wasn't budging, not with the amount of pinning it had required, and my dress looked exactly the same, well starched.

I crept along the corridors, slowly turning handles and feeling a bit like I was in the wrong story. This was much more Northanger Abbey than Persuasion. But my lie must have altered things.

As I explored the entirety of the top floor, I found one door that wasn't locked. I turned the handle, my heart racing when it didn't stop at the latch. I pushed the heavy door open just a crack, taking a small peek into the room. It was furnished as if a man who needed very little lived here. A simple bed and bureau and two small candlesticks.

“Can I help you?”

I spun, gasping when I saw Wentworth hovering over me. His stare was intense, angry even.

“No. Sorry.”

“Were you snooping?” He cocked his head, not removing himself from the path I would have to take to get away from him and this room.

“I was.” I confessed, feeling foolish. “I was confused.”

“By all the locked doors that you have no doubt tried?” His eyes sparkled, not with anger but with something else.

“Indeed.” I burst out laughing.

“I inherited this house from an uncle with no sons, only a few months before we were to come ashore. I had not seen it since I was a boy, and all my belongings were brought here well before I was. I had never met a single person on staff beyond Mrs. Humboldt. I gave her strict instructions to lock everything up and only allow staff in certain parts.”

“You thought your staff would rob you?” I furrowed my brow.

“I did. Why would they be loyal to me? They don't know me.” He grinned after a moment of us staring too long. “And now I am to be mocked for wanting security?”

“You are not.” I laughed again, making him smile. For such a gloomy man, his smile lit up the dreary space where we stood.

“You are laughing, madam.”

“I was just surprised. I never would have imagined a servant robbing someone. I would think it hard enough to find employment, let alone keep it.”

“I suspect that is a wealthy person’s prerogative to assume servants cherish their employment. But having been a servant in the crown’s navy, I know bitterness and entitlement can breed in any set of circumstances.”

“Will you keep all the doors locked so I have to find secret passages to complete my snooping, or will you allow for the doors to be opened?” I said it with the necessary hint of sarcasm required. “The curiosity of what lies beyond is likely to kill me.”

“We can’t have that. I shall give you the grand tour, if you like.”

“I would love that. And just so you’re aware, I adore old houses and creepy stairwells and secret passages. I wish to see it all.”

“Of course you do.” He laughed. “And as I am as in the dark about the house as you, we shall have to hire out the tour to a proper guide.” He offered me his arm.

“But there’s a door already open.” I pointed to his room.

“Oh yes, be my guest. Have a look. Shall I wait out here so the invasion of my privacy is satisfying to you?”

“Please do.” I grinned and entered the room, adoring the creak and groan of the heavy door as if no one had opened it this wide in ages.

The room was stark of clothing and furnishings, just a bed and a bureau. The window was dusty and the drapes tattered. There was far too much space, suggesting a need for more fixtures. The fireplace seemed so far from the bed, I doubted any of the heat from it would be felt.

“I think this is the worst room in the house,” he spoke loudly from the shadows of the hall where he remained. “So naturally it’s mine.”

“Commonplace for wealthy people to improve their private room last. The rest of the house is open to the public. Logically, they would want to update places that are seen first, giving the impression the house was entirely beautiful.”

“That makes sense and yet it does not comfort me to know I will be sleeping in the forgotten room.” He acted genuinely wounded but I was sure he wasn't.

“You, who slept on a ship you described as barely fit for service, sharing your cot with other men and somehow survived?”

“Indeed. You were paying better attention than I believed.” He chuckled, stepping into the room. I spun, meeting his gaze, both of us smiling. In that moment, something happened.

It might have been the way the dim light of the gray day hit his face or the way he smiled at me with that gleam in his eyes. I might have been that we had spent so much time together, talking and laughing and building a comfort I’d never known with another man.

Whatever it was, in that moment, my heart began to beat again—not the normal heartbeat one required to survive, but the one that fluttered and suggested I felt things I wasn't certain of.

“Shall we continue this tour before we have to explain our activities?” His smile suggested our actions would be frowned upon, as if there was something to them. A hint of feeling that neither of us was admitting to but also not denying. We spoke of it in looks and stares and side-glances that might not have been intended to be seen.

I had obviously ignored the feelings until this very moment, maybe distracted by it all. And now they were in my face and they were written on my face and they were controlling the heart in my chest.

I forced a calm smile across my lips and walked to him, taking his arm and pretending I didn't feel the heat of him next to me or the way my fingers trembled.

He walked to the stairs, shouting down them in the least gentlemanly way I’d ever seen him act. It was a common thing to do in one’s house and yet completely uncivilized and lazy. “Mrs. Humboldt!”

“Sir?” She popped her head out from around a corner down the hall from us.

“We’d like all the doors in the house opened and a tour if you have a moment.”

“Of course.” Her eyes widened and she hopped to it, rushing to the doors, clicking open each metal latch and cracking the door for us. Silver light from the cloudy day slipped into the halls, revealing dust dancing on the subtly moving air inside.

Each room had a fire lit and a repeating theme: bed, bureau, and wardrobe. The windows were dusted and the drapes beaten.

Each room smelled of furniture polish and age.

When we made our way back to the housekeeper on the stairs after seeing all the upper floor’s bedrooms, Wentworth narrowed his gaze. “And the secret passages?”

“What’s that?” She didn't speak to him in the same manner as the housekeepers at Uppercross or Kellynch Hall did. She must have known him before coming here.

“Out with it, old woman. I know you know.” He didn't speak to her the same way any lord of the manor did either.

“I’ve warned ya about calling me old woman.” She turned on her heel and headed for the master’s suite. “Are you coming?” She hurried down the hall and turned right when she entered the room, disappearing.

Wentworth and I hurried after her but paused in the doorway, confused.

She popped her head out from a wall that was made to look like it met the brick of the fireplace, when in truth there was a slight gap, enough for her to squeeze through. “Hurry up then. I haven’t got all day.”

Wentworth’s eyes were wide when he escorted me to the gap and allowed me to go first, after the housekeeper. I glanced back nervously as I slid between the wall and brick.

He barely fit between, making a scuffing noise as he dragged himself through. When we arrived at the landing of a secret staircase, the narrow hall opened up.

“I had no idea.” He spun in a circle. “Is this an escape route?”

“Aye, in case the house were to be invaded. Each room has one, a door behind the fireplace. The stairs all lead to the other rooms.” She pointed at the many tiny staircases shooting off this one. “And this hall leads to the courtyard at the right of the house, nearest the stables.”

“Fascinating,” I muttered and walked to the other staircases, climbing one of them. When I got to a solid brick wall I grinned and pulled the unlit candlestick on the right, snapping it off the wall.

“What are ya doing?” Mrs. Humboldt shouted and came up the stairs behind me, pushing on the brick and opening the door. She snatched the candlestick from my hand and hurried off again, headed back down the stairs.

The room was mine, as I suspected it might be.

“Is this your room?” Wentworth asked, making me jump. I hadn’t realized he was behind me.

“Yes.” I laughed, clutching my heart. “It is.”

“I like this room the best. The view of the arched wall is stunning.”

“Did you come here often as a child?” I asked as I spun, inhaling sharply when I realized how close he was.

“A few times. I never imagined it would be mine. My elder brother, Edward, should have inherited. But he passed away while I was at sea. Just after my uncle did. I arrived home to a new house and all my belongings being shipped off.” A haunted smile crept across his lips. “It was fortunate the house came furnished, as my belongings weren’t enough to bother bringing the carriage over the long trip.”

“What of the lady of the house? Your aunt?”

“Died, many years before. They had only two daughters, neither able to take ownership of the house nor needing it. They married well, both. The house would be a financial burden neither of them needed.”

“And now Sir Walter Elliot, who cannot afford his own home and has snubbed you, even though you are in possession of a home that is at the least on par with his, is renting to your sister? What a strange turn of events.”

“Indeed.” His eyes met mine, making my stomach tighten again. Our faces were too close to be mistaken as anything but preparing for a kiss.

I contemplated whether I should or not, losing the argument almost instantly.

“Are ya coming for the remainder of the tour or shall I leave ya here?” Mrs. Humboldt shouted up at us from the bottom of the stairwell.

Wentworth winced. “Coming.” He grinned at me and turned, hurrying down the stairs.

I smiled, enjoying the feel of the heat on my cheeks as I hurried after him.

Of course that was the moment my ghost showed up.