Chapter Eleven

“ L ady Beasley, I have been waiting nearly fifteen minutes,” Adam fumed. Something was very wrong. Alice had not answered his recent missive, nor appeared at the bakery they frequented. “I asked your butler to tell Mrs. Malcolm I was here. Do you know where she is?”

Adam had paced the downstairs, going along the passageway to peer out into the back garden. He had returned to the drawing room, then made his way through the set of connected rooms to the salon in which he’d first heard her play the violin. And then he’d gone full circle.

Finally, Lady Beasley appeared as if she had no idea he was even there. Her ladyship pursed her lips a moment, then she tilted her chin and sniffed. Her expression was one of deep disapproval.

“You have formed a deep attachment with my girls’ governess, have you not?”

Adam did not intend to speak of his personal life with Lady Beasley, but when asked outright, he hated to lie. He could speak the truth, he hoped, without getting Alice in trouble.

“We share a love of reading and have been comparing our interests and swapping books.” And swapping kisses, he added silently. But as an excuse to show up uninvited, he’d brought with him the book Alice had once lent him, which he’d set aside and all but forgotten. “I know no one else in Bath who has the same grasp of both historical and contemporary literature.”

That ought to please her ladyship since Alice could impart her wisdom on the younger daughters. In fact, he knew no one else who had the same manner of thinking and expressing herself as Alice. He was entirely enchanted.

Apparently, his expression disclosed his profound admiration. Lady Beasley crossed her arms and sighed deeply.

“Your mother would be most displeased to learn of your behavior. An earl’s son, playing with the emotions of a middle-class female.”

Adam clenched his jaw and counted to five, so he didn’t say anything impertinent. But he was not playing with Alice’s emotions. It was his own which had been sent spinning. After the Kingswood ball, in which he had set aside the bias he had against her class and declared his intentions for an engagement, she hadn’t jumped at the chance to elevate herself. Instead, she had set herself against him. In the carriage ride on the way back to the Paragon, Alice had kissed him passionately in return but refused to speak about marriage.

As soon as he found her, he was going to overrule her objections regarding being a widowed member of the middle class and plead his case. Or simply kiss her into submission.

“While I appreciate that you have a long friendship with my mother, this has nothing to do with her, nor even with you, although I mean no disrespect. Simply because Mrs. Malcolm lives under your roof, it ought not to mean you can control other aspects of her life outside of the work she does for this family. Thus, I wish to speak with her.”

“As do I,” Lady Beasley said. “I welcomed her as an employee, even with the short list of references she provided because there was something capable about her. And without doubt, she was knowledgeable in many areas, just what my girls needed for a well-rounded education. And now, look what has happened.” She sighed. “She was the perfect governess.”

Adam’s chest tightened. “Was?”

“She departed without notice yesterday morning. Packed up her things and left.”

Blood was rushing to his head. She had left her beloved position. How would he find her ? Should he even try? Alice’s abrupt departure could only mean she had no wish to continue with their blossoming friendship.

“I do not understand.” And he didn’t. Their last kiss had been magical. After the ball, as soon as they entered the carriage, they had been a flurry of mouths and hands. He was certain her feelings for him were growing at the same breakneck speed as his for her. They had made tentative plans to meet, and then she had simply not shown up.

At least now he knew why.

“Are you saying she has left your employ or departed from Bath?”

Lady Beasley spread her hands and shrugged.

“As I understand it, she has done both. Mrs. Malcolm slid a note of resignation along with a message for each of my girls under my bedroom door early yesterday. With no explanation and only muted contrition, she stated she could not continue in her post.”

Lady Beasley had begun to pace the room, working herself up into high dander.

“A month or at least a fortnight could be expected from anyone in her position to allow me the opportunity to find a replacement. But I received not even an hour’s notice. It is a shame.” She stopped and sighed again. “I liked her. I held her in high esteem for the education she could give my girls. Moreover, I trusted her with their future development into knowledgeable young ladies. To say I am disappointed would be to state my feelings mildly.”

Adam knew how she felt. Disappointment warred with anger, although he knew when he stepped outside and could examine his emotions, both would give way to sadness.

“All I can say, my lady, is that I am sorry you have lost an excellent governess.”

“As am I,” she agreed. “And I hope you had nothing to do with it.” Her cheeks turned puce. “My goodness, I truly hope you had nothing to do with it,” she repeated. “Your mother definitely wouldn’t be pleased, and then your father would have to get involved, too.”

It took Adam a moment to understand of what she was accusing him. One thing he was certain, Alice was not with child. At least, not with his.

“On the matter of which you intimate, I can assure you there is no merit to your insinuation. And I would hope you do not start spreading any such hearsay about your former employee.”

“I shall not give her references,” Lady Beasley declared, “so I cannot imagine how she will find her next position.”

Adam thought the clever Alice would land on her feet and find another post if she chose. But why leave this one and start over?

“She said nothing of why she had to go away?”

“She did not,” her ladyship confirmed. “You know, I thought it a pity you didn’t find my Susanne to your liking, and now, I imagine you feel the same. But it is too late for you to find a respectable wife in Bath after being tangled up with Mrs. Malcolm. Everyone is talking about it. I can only surmise that is why she left. I bid you good day, my lord.”

Without waiting for his response, she departed, leaving him still holding Alice’s book which he’d intended to return.

That night, seated in the drawing room of his too-large home, looking at the view of Victoria Park with a glass of brandy in one hand, Adam finally opened Austen’s novel. He had meant to read it previously but had been content keeping hold of the book, so he would always have a pretext to go see her.

He had never even cracked the spine before. To his amazement, when he did, the bookplate on the front cover held the answer to the mystery that was his Alice, as he’d come to think of her.

Alice Malcolm Jeffrey, Stonely Grange, Caversham

She was not Mrs. Malcolm at all! Maybe she wasn’t even a widow.

He turned the page and the next one before flipping to the back where she’d written a note about how much she’d enjoyed Northanger Abbey . It wasn’t a note to him, merely something scrawled on the back of the last page.

She had dated the note 1838, which would explain her youthful and effusive words about the satirical Gothic tale of terror and manners.

Reading it again, he smiled. At least he had a place to start.

Stonely Grange was , in a word, crumbling. If Alice had to pick another word, it would be dilapidated, decrepit , even creepy . Someone might kindly say it was a diamond in the rough. However, it was more like a diamond being reclaimed by the earth from which it sprung. It had once been polished but was now a murky shadow of its former glory.

Was there even a single window without a broken pane?

Yes, those that were completely boarded up.

That made her laugh. It was good to be home, even if she now had a hole where her heart had been.

The only staff still there were those glad of a free place to live. They no longer received wages, so she supposed they weren’t really staff, nor could she ask them to do so much as boil water for her tea.

Thus, Alice had moved another rung down the ladder of life. She’d given up her steady role as a governess with her meals prepared for her and a clean bedroom for the frightening insecurity of being an impoverished lady.

A new existence but with her old identity .

She couldn’t maintain either long, or she would starve. With her savings, if she wished to keep some of it in reserve, she could probably manage for a month, time enough to decide where she would go next. The mistake had been going to Bath instead of a country village. The old temptations of a sparkling, lively city had lured her to the only other place in England with its own full Season.

She couldn’t make that mistake again.

No more balls or dinners or concerts. No more gentlemen like Lord Diamond.

“Adam,” she murmured his name aloud, allowing the heartache to remind her he had been real. She’d made sure to accept a long and luxurious kiss from his firm lips before she’d bid him goodnight the final time. His hands had lingered at her waist, holding her close, and she’d slid her own up his chest to grasp his broad shoulders.

In the span of the kiss, she’d memorized the feel of him under her fingers, the taste of his lips, and the fragrance that made her want to howl with desire. With him not knowing it to be a kiss goodbye, he’d been tender and happy. Then he’d allowed her to run inside, where she’d quietly packed up all her things and written her notes of goodbye to Lady Beasley and her daughters.

She hadn’t allowed herself the indulgence of a private message to Adam. That would have been too hard, not to mention too tempting to tell him where to find her.

“As I live and breathe, it’s Lady Alice,” said the head gardener while she made her way across the lawn. What a difference from when she’d left after becoming engaged, traveling in a fine coach and six. A lifetime ago, it seemed.

“Good day, Henry. How are you?”

He tugged on his cap in his familiar way. “I cannot complain, m’lady. We’ll have a good harvest this year.”

“You’ve become a farmer, then, instead of a gardener.”

“Had to,” he said, maintaining a cheerful smile. “What with the chickens, pigs, and cows, those of us here live well.”

“I am glad to hear it. Do you think I shall be welcomed after... everything?”

Surprise crossed his weathered features.

“Indeed, m’lady. It’s your home, after all.” He smiled and looked at the manor. “Almost nothing is the same inside, mind you. Most everything was sold off by the men who came. There are still rooms a plenty, mind you, empty ones at that.” But he chuckled at his little jest, not sounding the least bitter.

“I shall be happy for any place to lay my head.” Alice had endured a long journey first by train, then by mail coach, packed with other travelers. And then she’d walked from the depot at the last tavern for two miles.

“Who remains here?” The last letter before her parents fled to Spain where they could live cheaply and well, her mother had made it sound as if hordes of raiding marauders had taken over. In truth, it was merely the staff moving in as they could no longer afford their cottages. Of course, her mother had also blamed her. Again!

“Ol’ cook calls it home and still makes a fine meal for all of us. Her daughter and a housemaid, who’d nowhere to go, stayed to help. My daughter’s middle boy, Bert, remained as well.” Then he shrugged. “Mr. Neble left and Mrs. Smythe, too. A butler and a housekeeper need a family to care for and a staff to manage.”

That might have been the longest speech Alice had ever heard from the man. But maybe in the past, they had simply never had the need to chat.

Then he nodded and tugged his hat again.

“Thank you, Henry. I shall see you later, then.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

She cringed slightly at the term. It had been two years since she’d been addressed thusly. At first, it was strange to style herself as a missus , but now, hearing Henry’s respectful greeting, she felt herself a fraud. A lady didn’t marry a wretch who spent all his own money and then went after hers. A lady didn’t bring calamity upon her home and all those who depended upon it.

But what did that make her parents, who had folded like a bad hand of whist?

Alice continued closer. Knowing her mother and father weren’t inside made it easier and more welcoming. She’d always loved her family’s country home. The location, on the fertile banks of the Thames, made it the prettiest place on earth when she was a child.

She sighed as the door squeaked loudly when she opened it. More of a groan actually, as if the house were announcing its displeasure at the return of the wayward daughter.

No Mr. Neble any longer in the front hall with his straight posture and tidy appearance. No Mrs. Smythe who smelled of lemon oil.

“Hello,” she called out into the echoing front hall.

Strangely, it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. The furnishings were whittled away to the bare minimum, with no paintings or vases or even the mirror that used to hang over a small rectangular table, which was also gone. Yet the floor was clean, and the place smelled fresh.

Alice set down her bag, having left her trunk at the tavern depot, hoping she could borrow a wagon to collect it later. A yawn split her mouth, reminding her how tired she was, nearly desperate for a bed.

To that end, she went to the back of the house and into the long, stone-walled kitchen.

There was the same cook, Mrs. Georgie, as everyone called her. Seeing her, seated, drinking tea, ever the mistress of her same familiar domain, Alice felt tears fill her eyes.

Spying her, Mrs. Georgie’s eyes opened wide before she silently set down her mug.

“Good afternoon,” Alice said.

Their cook rose to her feet, still staring as if she was seeing a ghost or goblin.

Alice wished she would say something, even if it was to scream at her for ruining the life they had all shared at Stonely Grange before Richard, Lord Fairclough came along.

“My word. Is it you, Lady Alice?” she said at last.

“It is. I hope you will allow me to stay,” she said.

“Allow you?” Mrs. Georgie repeated, furrowing her brow. Then she came around the table and without warning wrapped Alice in a fierce hug.

With that gesture, her tears began to fall. She sobbed until she was entirely wrung out. And the entire time, the cook, smelling faintly of cinnamon, continued to hold her.

“There, there,” Mrs. Georgie soothed.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Alice said at last. Her apology was too small for everything she wanted it to encompass, but at that moment, she was simply apologizing for being a burden on the struggling household.

“Don’t you dare apologize to the likes of me, m’lady.” Mrs. Georgie held her away from her soft round body so she could look into Alice’s face. “You look dead on your feet. Are you hungry, thirsty, or just tired?”

“Yes,” Alice said and managed a wobbly smile. “All three, but if you give me a drink of water, then I shall skip eating until I have slept, assuming there’s a spare bed.”

“Sit down here.” Mrs. Georgie pressed Alice down onto the wooden bench by the well-used maple table. Then she snagged a second cup and filled it from the brown Betty earthenware teapot. It was so customary a sight on their cook’s workspace, Alice nearly started to cry again.

Before pushing the chipped mug toward Alice, Mrs. Georgie added sugar and milk.

“Just the way you like it,” she said.

When a plate of biscuits appeared, Alice shook her head.

“You are being too kind, and you do not have to wait on me.”

“Nonsense. I’m just looking after family, same as I would my Jenny. Stay there and drink the tea. I’ll go find my girl, and we’ll make sure there’s a bed with clean sheets.”

She was halfway out the door when she turned.

“Where are your things?”

“I have a bag in the front hall, but I left my trunk at Mr. Ashley’s.”

“A single trunk?” Mrs. Georgie asked, then shook her head. “Things have certainly changed. I’ll get Henry to hop in his wagon and fetch your trunk from the tavern.”

“Thank you.” Alice could have put her head down on the table and fallen asleep, but she stayed upright, drank the tea, and ate nearly the entire plate of biscuits before the cook returned.

“Come along, m’lady, we’ve made up a bed for you. Not your own, for your pretty four-poster is long gone. I wouldn’t want you to see the state of your old room, anyway.”

Alice didn’t want to see it either, not yet. “I am grateful for any bed I can sleep in at this moment.”

She followed Mrs. Georgie to one of the small guest rooms where every effort had been made to make it comfortable with a simple bed frame and mattress. As promised, there were bleached sheets that looked so inviting, Alice wondered if she would ever rise from them again. A small, painted dresser, probably brought down from the attic, was the only other article of furniture. Without a chair or washstand, it wasn’t even as nice as what she had as a governess at the Beasleys’ home.

“It’s perfect,” she declared, receiving another hug from the cook. Henry appeared at the door with her trunk.

“Thank you. How kind of you to fetch it.”

“Yes, m’lady.” He tugged his hat and disappeared, not used to household duties.

“Can you manage?” Mrs. Georgie asked.

“I don’t understand,” Alice said. The cook’s meaning escaped her, and it must be due to her tiredness.

“Undressing and all,” Mrs. Georgie said, looking chagrinned.

Alice nearly laughed, but she realized the woman was serious. She had never seen Alice make do for herself.

“Oh, Mrs. Georgie. I haven’t had a lady’s maid for going on two years.”

“Truly?” the woman exclaimed, eyes widening. “Imagine that!”

Alice did chuckle that time. “It’s true. Just like you and Jenny and most every other woman in the world except the very few, I can undress and put myself to bed.”

Mrs. Georgie laughed, too. “I guess you can, m’lady, and good for you.”

With that, she departed.

Alice hoped she hadn’t destroyed some long-held belief of the cook that the titled class were helpless creatures because from what she’d seen, for the most part, that was true. But when forced to fend for herself, she, at least, had done so and quite well.

And that was the last coherent thought her weary brain put together. She took off her shoes, hat, and gloves, and stretched out on the lumpy mattress. It felt like the height of luxury. And then, she knew no more.