Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Twenty years later

"I really am sorry, Mrs Courtenay," the solicitor said, a pained expression on his face. "I really wish I had better news, but I'm afraid I don't. The plain truth of the matter is that your husband left no provisions for you whatsoever in the event of his death."

Celestina simply stared at him through the black lace that fell from her bonnet and covered her face. She blinked away the tear that beaded on her lash and swallowed.

At the tender age of eight-and-twenty, Mrs Celestina Courtenay's life had changed dramatically. When her parents died in a carriage accident four months previously, she had thought it bad enough. But then David had died, and now this. She had nothing left. She had no one. And she had nowhere to turn.

"But I don't understand," she said softly. "My husband was a successful businessman, Mr Chambers. That's why we moved to London in the first place. Imports and exports, he always said. Something about textiles. What has happened to that?"

Mr Chambers shrugged, slipping his sheath of parchment into his leather-bound folder. "I don't know what to tell you, Mrs Courtenay, except whatever was there at one time is no longer there now. Your husband was on the brink of bankruptcy. Perhaps you might get better answers by speaking to his business partner." He stood up and threw her a pitying look, one she pointedly ignored. "Now, can I do anything for you before I leave?"

Celestina pressed her lips together and shook her head. She didn't want anything except her life back, and the solicitor couldn't give her that. In that case, she wanted only to be alone.

"No, thank you, Mr Chambers."

"Very well. I will see myself out. Good luck in the future, Mrs Courtenay." He nodded to the row of servants lined up behind her, their hands folded neatly in front of them as they, too, became privy to the news. "Goodbye, all."

"Yes," Celestina muttered, though she had yet to pull her eyes from the shine on the drawing room floor. She'd had the maid polish it especially for Mr Chambers' visit today. How pointless it all seemed now. In a few months, it would no longer be her floor.

She didn't see the solicitor leaving but heard the front door close softly behind him. She felt the heavy, oppressive presence of her staff behind her, waiting patiently. Awkwardly, no doubt. As uncertain and worried as she was.

I shall have to let them all go, she realized, which only served to make her heart wrench further. In their eight years in London, Celestina had grown close to this dear group of dedicated servants. They'd been so good to her, and now she had little choice but to turn them out onto the streets. Why, she herself would be on the streets soon enough as well.

After a long and uncomfortable moment, one of the maids perked up. "Shall I make some tea, Mrs Courtney?" she asked with that false brightness of someone trying to lighten the mood.

"What?" She turned and looked at the girl. "Oh, yes, thank you, Annie. A little tea goes a long way in healing the broken-hearted, or so my mother always used to tell me."

"And with a drop of honey," young Annie said before skipping off to the kitchen.

It seemed that this broke the spell on the rest of the household, and though Celestina was in no doubt that they were all worried about their positions, they left to go about their daily duties. Only Sylvia, her lady's maid, stayed behind. She moved around to the front of the couch and sat with her mistress.

"It'll be all right," she said, patting her hand tenderly like one might pet a frightened dog. "Everything always works out for the best in the end."

Celestina raised the dark veil from her face, revealing moss-green eyes that pooled with tears of sadness, grief, and fear. Her auburn curls fell around cheeks so pale they might have been made of alabaster. She was slim in body and short in stature, but she had a fire within her that had almost—though not quite—been extinguished by recent events.

She'd had little experience in her life. Her parents decided everything for her until they handed her over to her husband, David, who was fifteen years her senior. Then, he took over their role, and Celestina played the part of the submissive, docile housewife. Without any of them, how could she survive?

She could barely decide what to wear, let alone how to live her life. That's not to say they were cruel. Oh no. They only ever wanted the best for her, to protect and love her. David had been a kind and gentle man, but he'd been jealous and protective too.

He'd never seen the real Celestina, the part of her she hid from the world. Inside, buried deep where people couldn't find it, there was so much more to her—intelligence, independence, curiosity. A desire for more, for adventure. They'd tried to smother those flames, her parents and her husband, and they'd almost succeeded.

Indeed, only one person had ever seen the true Celestina. Her childhood friend, Richard Kingsley. She almost smiled at the thought of who he would be now after all these years, but she pushed the thought away, as she always did when he entered her mind. He was the past, and she needed to find a way to face the future.

Now, she needed to find ways to bring that fire out of her again. Her world had come crashing down around her, and she didn't know where to start picking up the pieces.

"Here we are," Annie said in a sing-song voice, dashing into the room with a tea set on a silver tray. Celestina forced a smile as she watched it being placed on the low table before her, and then the tea poured from the silver pot. "I've added extra honey for you today, Mrs Courtenay," Annie said. "See if we can't sweeten up this day, ey?"

"You are too kind, Annie," Celestina said as she took the cup from her. She raised it to her nose and inhaled deeply. The scent of honey danced with the earthiness of the tea. She wished it truly did have the healing properties so purported. Annie scuttled away, and with a sigh, Celestina returned the cup to the saucer on the table; her appetite for tea vanished.

"What am I going to do, Sylvia?" she asked, looking pleadingly at her lady's maid.

At thirty years of age, Sylvia Taylor was not much older than Celestina herself, though she was in many ways wiser. She had experience of the world and the people out there. She knew what to expect. Her dirty blonde hair had been neatly twisted into a bun, and her blue eyes spoke of loyalty and dedication. They'd been together since before Celestina and David had married. Celestina didn't know how she would cope without her.

"We'll find a way to get through it," Sylvia said. She smiled warmly, though Celestina knew it for what it was—a humouring smile. Celestina laughed.

" We will do no such thing," she said. "You heard the solicitor as well as I did. I am destitute, Sylvia. There is no money left."

"Perhaps," Sylvia said, ever the optimist. "But we've been through difficult times before and got through them. We'll get through this, too."

Celestina scoffed, not quite believing what she was hearing. There was no getting through this. She would have to find employment, she supposed.

"But you don't understand," she said. "There is no money left. No provisions were made. That doesn't only affect me, Sylvia, but you and all the other members of staff, too. I can't afford to pay any of you what you rightly deserve. You will have to find employment elsewhere."

Sylvia squeezed her hand and shook her head. "Don't you worry about that, Celestina," she said, the pair having long ago done away with propriety. They were as good as friends now, after all. "I've told you before, short of death, I shall be by your side always."

"But death has graced this house with his presence, and now I have no choice."

Sylvia shrugged, the smile on her face ever-present. "Maybe not, but I do. And I choose to stay with you. I know it might be difficult, and we'll have to find a way to survive, but together, we can do that. I won't leave you simply because you've encountered a little financial difficulty."

With that, Celestina burst into tears. The dam broken, Celestina released everything, crying into the arms of her maid. She thought of how life came to this, of all the things she'd already missed out on. She thought, too, of her husband's kindness, for though he was controlling, he was, at heart, a good man. She thought of how successful his business had been and how it made no sense that there was nothing left.

" You are too kind, too, Sylvia," she said once the tears dried up. She looked at her maid with dry eyes and an ache in her throat. "But you know I can't let you do it. Your loyalty is admirable, but I couldn't expect you to do such a thing. I will give you a good reference, and you will find safe and comfortable employment."

"I beg to differ," Sylvia said, still smiling. "You don't have much of a choice. I shan't leave your side simply because things have become difficult. I know, in time, it will get better. You'll find your way, and then we can be happy again. But in the meantime, you need support, and that's what I'm here for."

Celestina wanted to cry again, this time with overwhelming gratitude for this kind and loving woman. She had already given Celestina so much of her life, and now she was willing to share in the dark times if only to support her mistress.

"You have become my best friend as well as my maid. Do you know that?"

Sylvia nodded. "I know. I feel the same."

Feeling a little calmer, at least, Celestina picked up her teacup and finally took a sip. The sweetness was overpowering but delicious. When she put the cup back down, she said, "What I don't understand is where the money has gone."

"Perhaps business hasn't been so good of late," Sylvia suggested.

Celestina looked at her and frowned. "But it's not only the business. My parents left me an inheritance which David assured me more than once was safely in the bank. Where is that money now? Mr Chambers said it's all gone, but it can't be. Even David wouldn't spend my inheritance. Would he?"

"Did you trust him entirely?" Sylvia asked. "Excuse me if that's a personal question, but do you think he may have lied to you?"

Celestina shook her head firmly. "David was a lot of things, and he had many faults. But he was not a liar."

Sylvia threw her that pitying look again, and it frustrated Celestina. She didn't need pity; she needed answers.

"Now," Sylvia said, patting her hand. "Why don't I go and sort you a nice bath while you finish your tea? It might make you feel a little better."

"And it might be the last I can have for a while," Celestina said with a snort of dark humour she had forgotten she had. She picked her teacup up, sat back on the couch, and curled her legs beneath her, not caring how unladylike it made her look. There were only servants left now anyhow, and they'd be leaving her soon as well.

All but dearest Sylvia.

Her life hadn't all been bad. As she sipped her tea, she allowed herself to slip into the past. Though her parents had always been domineering, she'd had Richard. He tumbled into her mind again, and this time, she let him, smiling at how he used to make her laugh. He would tease her relentlessly, chase her around the woods near their estates.

The son of their neighbours, Charles and Mathilda Kingsley, Richard had become her best friend the day she had been born, his little three-year-old eyes curious and fascinated. As they'd grown older and he'd gone off to Eton, her feelings for him grew into something more. Something akin to love.

Now, she sighed, staring into the teacup as if it could roll back the years. She'd never revealed her feelings for him lest he reject her, and besides, her parents had had a plan for her since birth. Even as an infant, they'd had a husband in mind for her. And once she was married … well, it was no longer appropriate to even think about Richard.

She'd pushed him out of her mind for good because it wasn't fair or respectful to her husband. After all, she had never hated David. Quite the opposite, she had loved him in her way. Perhaps it was more a sisterly love than a romantic one, but they'd grown close enough over time. He'd been kind to her, and she owed him that much in return.

She took another sip of rapidly cooling tea and rested her head against the couch. She wondered idly what Richard would be like now. Would he still have hair the colour of nighttime? Or eyes the colour of warm iron? Would he still have that boundless energy with which he'd bounced around the gardens?

"Maybe he'll even be married," she muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

She pursed her lips, the thought of him married sending pains through her. She hated the thought of him with a wife, but she had no right to such emotions. After all, she had married, hadn't she? He could easily have done the same. And besides, he'd never loved her, not in the way she had loved him. Why would he?

They were children, and she'd had nothing to offer him. The path of her life had been designed for her, but Richard had freedom and plenty of ambition to go with it.

With a groan, she sat back up. Thinking about the past had done her no good at all. It had only made her realize how much she'd lost. If her parents could see her now, they'd be so dreadfully disappointed. In a matter of weeks, Celestina would not only be widowed and poor, but she'd be homeless, too.