The Abandoned Countess: Abigail's Story

By Shannon Salter

London, England 1814

Abandoned shortly after her wedding day, the Countess of Rathbourne has been searching for her husband for two years with little success. A social outcast with few loyal friends left, Abigail begins to despair of ever seeing her husband again until a chance encounter rekindles her hopes. But as the mystery of her husbands disappearance unravels, who can she trust? The seemingly angelic gentleman who swiftly befriends her or the darkly mysterious brother of her best friend? And when lives are in danger, will her heart prove to be the worst traitor of all?

Spies, lies and intrigues set against the backdrop of Regency England!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shannon Salter
• Release date: Mar 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291682465

Shannon Salter

I am often asked where I get the inspiration for my writing and mostly it’s a result of personal experience mixed with a goofy imagination; not really meant to be taken too seriously. I write for fun and I hope that comes through in my work. For as long as I can remember I have been playing with writing and experimenting with different techniques; always wanting to get serious with it but never really taking the time. Until now. There are a couple of pieces currently in the works that are completely different from anything I have done before; one being a novel set in the cold harshness of Medieval England. Admittedly a challenge and a little out of my comfort zone, but how can you accomplish that which you never attempt? I found my love for writing at an early age with my imagination running away with me on school writing projects in the third grade. I rediscovered some of these projects just a few months ago and I may just get up the nerve to share some of these stories with you. Maybe... From there I was writing up a storm through high school and my first few years in the working world. Friends was a Year 10 school project and the other short stories posted on this site were written mostly during lunch breaks at work. 2004 saw me married to my wonderful husband, Brandon, and moving to the USA where writing took a bit of a back seat for awhile. We spent some time in Vista, CA before moving to Boise, ID. Talk about a culture shock! Always having been a coastal gal it took some time to get used to living in high desert with dry hot summers and snowy winters. The seasonal changes were breathtakingly beautiful but driving on black ice took some getting used too! We won't mention the sliding sideways down the street incident now will we?!? Perhaps a story for another time... After spending four years in the USA we are now very happily settled back on the Sunshine Coast, QLD, Australia and have no intention of leaving our little piece of coastal paradise. Now settled, the old imagination has sparked again and always having had an avid interest in Regency England it seemed only natural that my writing would take a turn in that direction and so The Abandoned Countess was born. It has been a fun story to write and I have plans for two more books in the series. See you again soon!! Shannon Salter

Book preview

The Abandoned Countess

Abigail’s Story

ISBN: 978-1-291-68246-5

Copyright © 2013 Shannon Salter. All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Bonus Material

Dedication

To my wonderful husband Brandon

For his endless encouragement and patience

And all my family for their continuous love and support

Chapter One

London, May 1814

The moon tried pitifully to break through the gathering mist as my rickety old carriage bumped its way along the rutted road back towards the city. Rain was starting to patter against the windows and I hoped fervently for the sake of my loyal servant, Jack, now driving me, that we reached home before it became a downpour.

I took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh as I closed my eyes and rested my head back on the cracked leather seat. What a waste of yet another evening. I wasn’t overly surprised at the lack of progress for I had spent many evenings in similar activities over the last two years and each time the outcome had been much the same. At least all the others had had the decency to keep their appointments! The angry thought flitted through my consciousness as I once again felt the irritation rise in my chest. I pulled the hurriedly scrawled note from my cloak pocket and studied the bold flourish of words by the light of the waning moon.

‘I have information regarding your husband. Meet me at Ravens Peak at midnight. J.B.’

Midnight had come and gone, followed by one am in excruciating slowness. But the mysterious J.B had not appeared. Another sigh escaped my lips. It was probably just as well. The information he was to impart would most likely not have been useful and the last thing I needed was to set off on another wild goose chase based on dubious information. I had lost count of the number of useless tid-bits I had received from well-intentioned informants through my inquiries and after two years of searching I was still no closer to learning my husband’s whereabouts.

Endless questions continued to chase each other around my mind resulting in relentless worry and confusion. Why had he left? Where was he now? Why had he not contacted me? Was he even still alive? And after two years of searching I knew nothing more than I had the day he disappeared.

I roused myself from my thoughts as I felt the carriage sway to a stop. A quick glance out the window proved we were not yet at our destination. Had we been way-laid by high-way men? Though determined to keep calm I could not stop the sudden thought flicking into mind. We were still some distance from London and this stretch of road did have the dangerous reputation of being a favourite haunt for thieves. I slipped my pistol from my cloak pocket and clutched it in readiness. The carved mother-of-pearl grip of my derringer was familiar and comforting in my grasp as I waited in the darkness, wondering if I would be expected to ‘stand and deliver’ with a gun thrust in my face. But after a few moments that seemed to drag into eternity only silence was forthcoming. Surely if we were under attack there would have been shouting and gun shots. Not that I could speak with any real authority on this subject. But it is what one would expect. Come to think of it, I rather doubted the competence of a silent highway man. After all, is not their effectiveness due in part to causing hysteria amongst their prey, generating confusion and manipulating by force to achieve their goal? But none of this was forthcoming. My curiosity was now fully piqued.

Slowly twisting the door latch I gathered my skirts in one hand, my pistol still in the other, and quietly slid from the carriage, my sturdy walking boots making no sound as they met with the soft muddy earth. Silence wrapped itself around me and left me feeling slightly claustrophobic as I strained my eyes to see through the swirling mist. It almost felt as though I was stepping into a scene from a Gothic horror novel, as though at any moment a hand would emerge from smoky grey mist to choke the life from me. And although I loathe to admit it, the hair on the back of my neck was prickling.

Squaring my shoulders I shook the silly notion from my mind and took a few steps forward. Up ahead I could see the fuzzy glow of a lantern outlining the form of a man and by his familiar shape I knew it to be Jack. He had left his post at the driving seat and as I watched he lowered himself to crouch over something on the road.

I ran my hand gently over the silky flank of the carriage horse as I moved up to stand next to my servant and realized with a start that the crumpled form in the road was the body of a man.

You won’t be needin’ that, ma’am, Jack indicated the pistol in my hand. He aint quite dead, but is as near as it don’t matter.

Taking the lantern from Jack, I crouched down next to the unconscious figure of the man and positioned the light so that it shone on his face. Raven black hair clung in wet clumps to frame a face that was pale under a tanned complexion. The harsh light from the lantern threw shadows across the strong plains of his clean shaven cheeks and revealed a long straight nose and firm square jaw. It was a handsome face, even in the severity of the lamp light.

Moving the lantern slightly I noticed the light reflected in a small dark puddle to the side of his head. I bent closer and realized it was a pool of blood; the patter of rain drops causing ripples in the oozing red liquid. I’ve never thought of myself as squeamish but the sight of his life force trickling out around him made me feel slightly nauseated. Trying not to focus on it I gently turned his head to see where the bleeding may be coming from and detected a nasty gash above his left temple. I couldn’t tell how deep the wound was or how seriously he may be injured but I knew for him to have any chance at all he would need some tending to quickly.

Help me put him inside the carriage, Jack. Quickly now, before this rain falls any harder.

Jack hesitated only briefly before obeying my orders. He probably didn’t like the poor gentleman’s chance of survival but knew we could not simply leave him there to die. Unconscious, the handsome stranger weighed more than I had anticipated but between the two of us we managed to maneuver him into the carriage and settle him so that his head rested on my lap. Swapping my derringer for a lace handkerchief, I gently applied pressure to his forehead to stem the flow of blood and winced as we hit a pothole in the road, the whole carriage rocking precariously. Even with the jostling, he did not stir from his slumber and my concern for him grew. Feeling the side of his neck I located a weak pulse and silently willed him to hold on. I only hoped we would make it home in time.

Chapter Two

The townhouse was almost completely in darkness when we finally arrived home but I knew Millie, my personal maid and housekeeper, would still be awake. She never retired before Jack, her husband, and I arrived safely home from our nocturnal adventures. And I was very thankful for this as I would certainly need her help tonight.

Between the three of us we managed to get the still unconscious man up to the guest bedroom on the second floor, and while Millie and Jack stripped him of his muddy clothes and settled him into the four poster bed, I set about collecting clean rags and warm water with which to bathe him.

He be a handsome one, ma’am, Millie observed as she watched me gently bathing the strangers head wound. I paused briefly to take in the features that were now becoming clearer with the removal of blood and dirt. No more than 30 I estimated. The earlier glare of the lantern light had highlighted a strong face but had not done him justice. The faint shadow of dark stubble did nothing to hide the squareness of his jaw and outlined the perfect formation of his pleasantly masculine lips. His nose was straight and rose to meet a broad smooth forehead, the left side of which was marked by an ugly purple-black bruise and a gaping wound. His eyes, though I was yet to see them, I was certain would be the perfect complement to his raven black slightly wavy hair. Yes, he was indeed a very handsome creature.

Did you notice any other wounds as you undressed him, Millie? I asked as I pushed back a lock of dark hair from his forehead to get a better look at his head wound.

Yes, ma’am. There’s a slight gash on ‘is right arm an’ some bruising on ‘is left shoulder as well. Mayhap from when ‘e hit the ground.

I pursed my lips in thought. I had assumed he had been riding a horse and was set upon by highway men. Nobody in their right mind would have been walking along that road at that hour of the night. But there had been no sign of his animal when we had come upon him. It was quite possible that the creature had run off from fear or could have been stolen. Or perhaps he had been thrown out of his carriage. I glanced at the clothes that had been removed from his person a short time ago and, although they were of fine make and material, they had seen many better days. It was unlikely he was a man of great means and therefore it was even more unlikely he had been travelling in a carriage.

Millie, help me turn him so I can see his bruising.

Now, ma’am. I don’t think that be a wise thing to do. Jack and me left no garments on the poor soul as ‘e was nearly soaked through. Better that we wait till Jack comes back with the good doctor an’ let the doctor do the examinin’.

The corners of my mouth twitched as I shot her an impatient look. Millie, don’t be silly. I am only interested in seeing his wounds which you have assured me are confined to his right arm and his left shoulder. It is quite possible to view these without disturbing other sensitive areas.

But it’s not seemly, ma’am, you being a lady an’ all.

I threw her a stern look. That is for me to decide. Now either you will give me a hand or I will be forced to do this myself.

Millie grumbled something incoherent but did as she was bid and helped me lift the man so as to get a better look at the bruising on his shoulder. I noticed briefly that he sported a magnificent physique before raising the covers back up to his chest and turning my attention to the scratch on his arm.

There, that wasn’t in the least shameful, now was it, Millie?

Millie huffed slightly. Just concerned for your well being, ma’am.

I appreciate your concern, Millie, but sometimes you worry too much. I threw a smile at her to soften my words.

What think you of ‘is other wounds, ma’am? She changed the subject a little hurriedly.

I frowned in thought. Well, the bruising is a good sign. That indicates the wound is on the surface. Of course I have no way of knowing if there are any other internal injuries. The good doctor will need to examine him closely and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a bruised rib or two. But this, I peered more closely at the scratch on his arm. This I cannot explain. He was wearing a heavy coat so I do not see how he came by this scratch.

Per’aps you should see this, ma’am, Millie held up the coat and indicated the right sleeve. There was a tear in the fabric and what looked to be scorch marks showing through the dried blood.

My frown deepened as I cast my eyes back to the scratch. It was a surface abrasion with little bruising as though something had whizzed by at high speed and just clipped his arm. There was only one thing I could think of that would do this and the instant the realization hit me I felt a cold finger of ice trail down my spine. This was a pistol shot wound and could account for his falling off his horse, if that was indeed what had happened.

He is fortunate his attacker was a poor shot. A more serious wound and he would most likely have expired before we reached him. I mused aloud.

Do you think ‘e was set upon by highway robbers, ma’am? Millie asked.

I think it most likely. It is rather puzzling that he should have been out on that road at such a time. Particularly given the recent increase in robberies along that stretch, he really should have taken more precautions. I absentmindedly swept the dark wave back off his forehead before softly addressing him directly, What were you doing out there?

You can ask him that when he awakes, ma’am. Per’aps we should leave ‘im to rest. As how there ain’t much more we can do for him till the doctor arrives, you may as well get some rest yourself.

She was right but I shook my head. No, I will wait for the doctor in case he wakes. He will not know where he is and may become alarmed. Pursing my lips slightly, I studied his face. Do you recognize him, Millie?

Can’t say that I do, ma’am. Judgin’ by his clothes I would say he may be a man servant to a member of the peerage. He’s too clean cut lookin’ to be any kind of riff-raff.

I nodded in agreement. It did seem most likely. Did you find any identification on his person when you removed his clothes?

Millie shook her head. Only this, ma’am. It was hidden in a secret pocket in his coat. She handed me a sealed letter.

I studied it briefly, running my fingers over the textured linen surface. It was not addressed and the seal had no distinguishing marks but the paper was of good quality. After a moment’s hesitation I placed the letter on the nightstand beside the bed. I was curious to find out this man’s identity but I would give him more time to awaken before I invaded his privacy and opened his personal mail. He looked familiar somehow and I had a niggling feeling that I had seen him before but could not recall precisely when or where. Hopefully that slight mystery, along with the others, would be resolved upon his awakening.

Thankfully we didn’t have long to wait for Jack’s arrival with the doctor. Dr Green was none too impressed to be called out at such an early hour of the morning but I managed to soothe him with some carefully chosen expressions of effusive gratitude. As quickly as possible I gave him an edited version of the night’s events and thankfully he wasn’t too interested in why I had been out so late and on such a road. My marital situation was commonly known but I tried to avoid further censure by not divulging too much information about my efforts to locate my husband. His only comment was that the poor stranger was lucky that we happened upon him when we did. A night left in the elements in his present condition would certainly have led to his demise.

Leaving the doctor to his examination, I followed Millie down to the kitchens and gratefully accepted the offered cup of tea as I collapsed into a wooden chair. I was exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that could be classified as bone weary and yet my mind refused to shut down. I was concerned for the stranger lying unconscious upstairs, wondering who he might be and was he being missed. Was there a poor woman fretting for him, fearing for his safety and waiting for him to come home? That was a feeling I knew only too well.

A small sigh escaped my lips as my thoughts returned to the failed rendezvous. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what supposed information the mysterious J.B. had to impart. Having not seen or heard anything of my husband since he disappeared only two weeks after our wedding, the logical conclusion was that he was dead. Whether I was naive or desperate I could not say, but I held on to a small flicker of hope and would not give up searching for him until I had solid proof that he was truly gone forever.

For what was probably the millionth time, my thoughts drifted back on the few sweet memories I had. Edward’s gentle smile floated before my mind’s eye and I was transported back to our wedding day. If I could ever lay claim to a fairytale moment, that would be it. It had been magical. The day had dawned without a cloud in the late June sky and I had awoken to melodious birdsong. Stanton Manor had been decorated with Ivy and Honeysuckle and the scent of these lingered in my nostrils. I could still hear the gentle swish of my silk skirts and feel the soft rose petals beneath my satin slippers as I walked down the aisle of the old country church. And waiting for me at the end with a joyous smile and love shining in his eyes was Edward, dear Edward.

We had both been so happy, or so I had thought. The swift and rather sudden disappearance of my new husband now threw that into question.

I had at first believed that Edward had been abducted or perhaps murdered. There were some who would have benefitted from his early demise such as his cousin and heir presumptive, Nicholas Crawford. As it was, Nicholas had assumed responsibility of the Rathbourne Estate, though not yet the title, when Edward’s disappearance had been confirmed.

I had never liked Nicholas with his sour mouth and sulky ways and I admit I had toyed with the idea that Nicholas could resent my marriage and the possibility that I could bear a son and new heir. Thus the only way to secure his claim to the Rathbourne Earldom was to take it in the most decisive of ways. Killing me would only have been a temporary solution as there was the likely possibility that Edward would remarry. But by disposing of Edward without a legitimate heir, the title would go to Nicholas.

But I had not found any evidence to suggest this. There was no body and no evidence of foul play. There was no proof that Edward was dead and further, no evidence to support Nicholas’s claim to the title. However that did not rule out abduction. But as there had been no ransom demanded I could find no reason for it. Still I had questioned every innkeeper and tavern owner from Stanton Manor to London in the hopes of finding any small clue. Surely someone would have seen or known something. But they had not. Not one of them could give me anything to go on and either they had been paid handsomely to keep quiet or they simply did not know.

That left the only conclusion that I had fought against for so long; he had left of his own volition. The very thought of that left me cold. What could I have done to cause him to leave me? I was at a loss but the pain of it had ravaged me mercilessly for too long. And so it

Reviews for The Abandoned Countess

[Sheena Gurbakhash · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A very chaste romance, but so full of action. Abigail's husband disappears without a word of explanation and she's been looking for him ever since.
On her way back from a fact finding mission she comes across an injured man lying on the road. She takes him home and looks after him not realising she's in for a huge shock.
I liked that Abi is gutsy- she's brave and goes out quite fearlessly to find out what's happened to her husband.
"I can't tell you/ tell you now" is one of my least fav tropes but this one seems to work..