Discovering Ellie

By Valerie Holmes

Ellie has recurring nightmares of a child surrounded by early nineteenth century luxury who is kidnapped. She always wakes to sparse surroundings and a life devoid of love. Yet she still dares to dream that she will find love. Living in the Old Hall with her Aunt Gertrude and cousins Sybil and Dorcas, she feels as if she neither belongs to the family nor the ranks of the few servants. The reason for this being, as her aunt frequently reminds Ellie, the scandal of her mother who eloped with a Frenchman. The scandal apparently cast a long shadow over Ellie and the family. When her aunt informs Ellie a suitor has been found, Ellie’s initial excitement turns to dread and humiliation. Ellie feels desolate when Mr Montgomery Cookson arrives. However, all is not as it seems, and Ellie has a glimpse of a brighter future, but will it come to pass? As Christmastide approaches so Ellie is forced to take drastic action!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie Holmes
• Release date: Dec 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310378416

Valerie Holmes

Valerie writes sweet romances and mysteries, both historical and contemporary. Two of which have been shortlisted for awards by the Romantic Novelists’ Association.She is a previous winner of Writing Magazine’s, ‘Annual Ghost Story Competition’. This illustrates her love of writing under the genres of ‘Romantic Adventure’ or darker ‘History Mystery’.Valerie is an experienced creative writing tutor working for The London School of Journalism, Writing Magazine and independently.As well as being an author herself, she enjoys being a reviewer of books for the Historical Novel Society and is also member of the Crime Writers’ Association and the Society of Authors.

Book preview

Discovering Ellie

by

Valerie Holmes

Copyright © Valerie Holmes, 2022

Valerie Holmes has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.

Prologue

The Old Hall, North Yorkshire, late autumn 1813

Ellie curls into a foetal position in her narrow bed against the attic room wall as the familiar dream returns.

It is as if she is the small child, asleep on a spacious feather bed, cosseted in silk sheets that slip over her as smoothly as a swan glides onto a lake. This bed is warm. Pale green eyes, like her own, are shielded from the world by closed lids.

The sensation of a soft nightgown against her young skin makes a smile cross the sleeping woman’s face. A white linen pillowcase is edged with silk ribbons, covering a down-filled pillow. The sumptuous details are clear to Ellie as is the exquisitely decorated small bird appliquéd on the corner of the child’s pillow. Ellie, like the child, slumbers on.

Then large hands reach for the child, peace is shattered. The young girl screams, still clinging to her precious pillow, but the bird is ripped from her hands and is flung to the floor: a carpeted floor, it lands next to a pair of small cream silk slippers, the same little bird embroidered upon each one.

Ellie senses the child’s panic, as she is wrapped in a heavy cloak, listening to strange, muffled voices. Strong arms carry her off downstairs and out into the night air.

It all seems so real. The child cries. A shout goes up and she is thrown onto the floor of a waiting carriage, the fall so abrupt that Ellie sits up, jolted awake, gasping at the force. Perspiration moistens her brow, despite the cold of the night air. Her legs are knotted in her single blanket; she is returned to her fireless room.

Ellie clambers free, stands and shakes her head; her fair curls flow freely over her shoulders. This dream returns to her each autumn, always toying with her senses. The warmth of a cosy bed conflicting with the cold night air as the child is ripped from it. Her nightmare ends when Ellie wakes, alone. Was it her? Did it really happen? Or does she dream of a life she can never have known? The same questions occur, but she never finds the answers.

Unwilling to succumb once more to sleep, for the few hours before her day begins, Ellie wraps her blanket around her shoulders, and makes her way to a lower landing where the dark, mahogany stairs, descend to the family’s bedchambers.

Her aunt, Mrs Hemming and her two cousins sleep in warmed rooms. The day rooms, the dining room and gallery, the library, and a study are all on the next floor down. On the ground floor, the busiest places exist in white-washed corridors and rooms: the sculleries, the laundry, the stores, kitchen, and dairy rooms and behind the hall the stable block and coach house, locations where the servants toil. Ellie was familiar with them because they too are part of her domain.

Ellie stops and stares at the moon through the landing window before opening it to breathe fresh air. The chill of the night pulls her senses away from her fanciful dreams. She needs to feel alive and free.

Carefully, familiarly, stepping out onto the lower part of the roof she walks delicately to the corner of the building and leans back against the icy tiles of the sloping roof to stare at the stars, wondering if anyone else is watching them this night, or if she alone admires their beauty. Should she make a wish like a child? What would she wish for? To see her parents – why make an impossible wish? Their images had somehow been wiped from her mind. She must have seen them in her young life but try as she might she could rekindle a memory of one tender touch, or the whisper of a loving word.

‘Love!’ She folds her arms below her breasts and hugs herself. I wish for... I pray, God forgive me, despite knowing she should be praying for an end to the wars with France – one word summed up her heart's desire – love! If the world generally could love more, wars would not exist. For a few moments she allows her blanket to fall to her sides. The air pinches her skin through her cotton nightgown. It is a world removed from her dream. With one glance back at the starlit sky, she begins to retrace her steps.

A movement catches her eye at the edge of the woods, a deer perhaps. She peers down into the night; a reflection on something light, an upturned face. No animal looks so, this form stands on two legs. For the first time since she discovered this special place Ellie feels anxious. She has no fear of height or of nature, but mankind makes her anxious. Why should someone be looking at the hall, a poacher daring to come near the building? Why risk coming so close, she shivers not only at the cold, but also at the idea of being watched.

Stealthily she climbs back inside. Her secret place was private, a place where she could be alone with her thoughts, now someone knew about it. Whoever he was, he risked being caught by the gamekeeper and that was something she would not wish on anyone. The local magistrate owned a large estate nearby and took no pity on those who stole off his land, even if it were to satisfy the hunger of their families.

Ellie returns to her bed and pulls her lumpy pillow under her head. For a few precious moments her little room feels almost warm, and she slips into a dreamless sleep until the sun rises, when Rosie, the oldest of the housemaids wakes her and Ellie’s new day begins.

Chapter One

November 1813

Unlike her cousins’ high-waisted, day dresses, Ellie’s were not fashionable but she was often warmer in her finely woven, wool gown. Dark blue suited her fair colouring, even if her the appearance was more of a governess rather than a member of the family. With straight back and natural elegance, Ellie entered the morning room carrying her aunt’s tray. She was Mrs. Hemming’s niece and companion. Ellie’s home at The Old Hall, depended upon the whim of the woman. The late Mr Archibald Hemming had been a second son of a once wealthy land-owning family in the south.

Unfortunately for Mrs Hemming, fortunes can change with a cross word to an older sibling resulting in a final heartbeat - a life expired. The widow’s assured fortune lost. She had been forced into wearing widow’s weeds, her daughter's not able to come out that year. Society had expected them to disappear, so they had, by retreating to the North Riding estate provided by Mrs Hemming’s cousin. There they were able to keep their standing in the parochial society that they had established over the years when not in London.

Ellie, my dear, place that tray on the table and come and sit by me. I have something I want to tell you. Her aunt patted the tapestry covered sofa next to her with her lace-gloved hand.

Thank you, Aunt, Ellie placed the tray carefully down.

Quickly, child, Mrs Hemming tapped the seat impatiently.

Ellie was surprised by her aunt’s familiar tone. Usually, a wave of a hand sufficed to dismiss her, the tray would be left, and Ellie would go back to the kitchens to discuss the day’s menus, make sure the linens were in order, keep the household books depending upon which day of the week it was, and then order any supplies or provisions that were required from their land or the local grocers.

Is there something wrong, Aunt? Ellie asked, as she perched on the edge of the sofa next to the brown-haired lady, who always wore a crisp white, laced cap. She insisted it complemented her ‘natural’ hair colour. Ellie knew that it was combed with tea every night and morning, which gave it its brown colour, although the hue varied from day to day, although the dull appearance never changed. The stain on her caps took effort to remove.

Why should there be anything wrong, Ellie? Her aunt smiled back, then noticed that one of Ellie’s