Signed Sealed Delivered: Victoriana Trilogy, Book I

By Rita Stella Galieh

London, 1840. How could she believe in her future when she couldn’t escape her past?
Vivacious young Megan Trevallyn could never have imagined what life was about to deal her. Employed as a governess in a stylish Mayfair mansion, love swept her off her feet. It came in the form of its owner, Captain Charles Cantrell, and they married in secret. Yet how could such joy and happiness turn so soon into disillusionment? Charles’s sister-in-law, Cornelia, was not about to take second place as the mistress of the household. And when Megan discovered she was pregnant after Charles had left for the battlefield, the scheming Cornelia expelled Megan from the household into a world she had never known.
Forced to mix with the dregs of society, she clung to her faith in God to shield her as things got worse. Enduring heartbreak over what she believed was Charles’s death in a military coup was followed by false accusations, imprisonment, and finally, transportation to a notorious penal colony. Yet her dreams of Charles were enough for doubts to linger. What had really befallen him? When she was compromised aboard the convict ship by Lieutenant John Stafford, only one thing remained. Hope.
Would this new land become a land of promise? Or a land of perdition?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rita Stella Galieh
• Release date: Feb 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310533051

Rita Stella Galieh

Rita co-presents a Christian radio program that is broadcast Australia-wide. As a writer, her passion is for faith-based fiction of the Victorian Era with all of its intricate undercurrents. Rita has also contributed to the U.S. Adams Media anthologies and belongs to several writers' organizations. Her weekly blog covers writing, romance and life.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Soon after first light when butlers shone boots, maids scurried about, and cooks prepared breakfast, Megan Trevallyn grasped the opportunity to escape to her one sanctuary in this Georgian mansion—the library. With the musty smell of old books welcoming her, she turned up the gaslight. The warm glow endowed the wood panelling with pleasing hues of coppery gold, which never failed to please her.

She reached over to select a reference volume when a shadow fell across the wall.

What? She whirled around.

The master of the household loomed before her.

In one swift motion, he pushed her up against the bookcase, pinioning her between his outstretched arms. Only the large tome she managed to clasp to her chest separated them. But the narrowed eyes and husky breaths of this repulsive gentleman revealed a rapacious hunger.

‘What have you got there, Miss … ah, why don’t I call you Megan? My, my, perhaps a book of romantic verses? Something to get your little heart beating faster?’

Although doubtful about the scandalous downstairs whispers, she’d always managed to avoid the sole company of her employer. Now this. Her mind raced as she tried to quash the rising panic. She must somehow overcome this intimidating situation and diffuse it.

‘Sir, I’m holding a book of Ancient History for your daughter.’ She forced an authoritative tone. ‘We’re to study it when she arrives.’

He glanced back at the grandfather clock. ‘It seems we have a whole hour before Ellie’s lesson begins, my dear. Time enough for us to become, shall we say, much better acquainted.’

Despite her indignation, she gritted her teeth. In this household an employee’s word counted for nothing. And in such a confrontation, the conviction she’d be damned if she gave in and damned if she didn’t, infuriated her.

With barely time to pray, Lord, help me, she steeled herself against the assault.

As he lowered his whiskered face to hers, his breath—reeking of tobacco—turned her stomach. And as one clammy hand clutched her neck and the other groped for her thigh, pure instinct spurred her on. She let go of the heavy book.

It landed right onto his foot.

Cursing, he sprang back. ‘You’ve broken my toes, you little vixen!’

She snatched the moment and ducked around him then launched herself from the library. With hammering heartbeats spurring her on, she rushed to her room.

Oh yes, she’d heard about predators like this. A helpless governess, maidservant, or even a lowly scullery maid offered a pleasant diversion to the master of the household. Willing or unwilling, no questions were ever asked. And if complaints arose then the victims would soon find themselves on the street without references. In this way many an assault would be covered up, concealing distasteful scandal, and leaving the perpetrator free reign.

If it hadn’t been for her unhesitating action when she’d been at her most vulnerable, this man would surely have compromised her. Now, through no fault of her own except for self-preservation, she must leave what she’d thought was a safe haven. Disillusionment threatened to drain the last of her optimism.

She dashed unwanted tears away and gathered up her few belongings before creeping down the back stairs. The injustice of this whole incident rankled, but recognising the futility of asking, she’d go quietly without the wages owed.

Only one thing consoled her. She’d had the satisfaction of repudiating his advances. His power and menacing presence no longer dangled over her. Nor would it ever again.

Lord willing, she’d pore over every single line of the help wanted section in her search to find another employment opportunity.

That … or go hungry.

Part One

Innocent Until Proven Guilty

For the Lord hath called thee like a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth refused. For a small moment I have forsaken thee, but with great mercies I will gather thee. Isaiah 54:6,7

Chapter One

‘Argh!’ Wiping the blood from the leading edge of his ceremonial sabre, Captain Charles Cantrell grimaced. He’d always contended the blade be razor sharp enough to shave a man’s face. Similar to honing his faculties on the battlefield. And now look what he’d done! He held his kerchief to the cut until the bleeding stopped.

Despite a career in the Royal Warwickshire Regiment of Fusiliers and all that he’d hoped for with its spartan routine, this miserable day seemed set on unfolding just like the day before and the one before that. Mishaps, misconceptions and downright insubordination, with the Lord only knowing what else might befall!

Peacetime. Hah! Bogging a man down with idiotic regulations eroded a fellow’s morale.

Maybe the blame lay with army discipline of always expecting the unexpected. This maddening sense of waiting, without anything actually happening, grated on him.

He lived a well-ordered life, yes. But something—perhaps what women recognised as intuition and men a gut feeling—indicated he could’ve missed out on something vital. And Sunday’s sermon might well have added to this unsettled state, with the words of the Scottish preacher poleaxed into his mind.

‘If ye will ken God’s will, three things must come into line, as in navigating the channel of a river,’ he’d stated in his thick burr. ‘The Word, the circumstances, and peace in the heart. Also, ye should apply this in the serious matter of choosing your life’s mate.’

Whatever the implications, he’d been interrupted in his musings as an orderly stamped into the room, saluted and handed him a note.

At last. Via this communique from the top brass, he’d been informed of an impending assignment on the East Cape of South Africa.

Waiving regulations, with a short leave granted to all officers, Charles returned home to his family residence in Mayfair.

He identified the distant, pleasing sounds as laughter and reconnoitred the length of the hallway. Once finding its source, he paused outside the nursery and peered around the half-opened door.

Very nice, indeed. Opening it further to the pleasant sight, he approved this new governess’s involvement in overseeing her pupil’s efforts. His small nephew, chin cupped in hand, gazed up at his teacher with rapt attention.

The golden autumnal light filtering through the dormer window set her profile and the curve of her neck into a soft silhouette. And her severe black dress with its pristine white collar and cuffs did more to complement her natural beauty than any of the fashionable frills and furbelows most women adored.

He’d just as soon scrutinise this interesting female as any other military objective. As he leaned against the door jamb, he slipped out his notebook and captured her with a few strokes of his lead pencil. Satisfied with his cameo impression, he flipped his notebook shut.

She turned in his direction.

So did the boy who wriggled from his desk and hobbled over to him. ‘Uncle Charles!’

Charles threw him in the air. ‘Rob, you’ve grown!’ Setting the giggling child down, he grinned. ‘I’ve brought you something, young man.’ He handed over a bag of sweets and pivoted on one heel to face the young woman.

With a shy smile, she bobbed her head. ‘Megan Trevallyn, sir. And I’ve already heard about you, Captain Cantrell. In Rob’s eyes you can do no wrong.’

‘Ah, my Rob’s an excellent judge of character. As far as he’s concerned there’s nothing I could do wrong. As for everyone else’s thoughts on the matter’—he shrugged—‘they’d surely come to a different conclusion.’

He laughed and she joined in. ‘Indeed, sir? But Rob tells me you’ve been fiercely fighting the battles of the world on the side of truth and virtue.’

He lingered over each feature of her upturned face. These he must commit to memory. Facial features were no different to map orientating. But far more rewarding. Those glints of green-gold in her eyes, a straight nose, and the hair he’d assumed as brown, on closer inspection, revealed a pleasing, deep auburn shade. And more. The delightful way the colour in her cheeks heightened.

Ah, vexation! He’d caused her to blush. He apologised to cover the awkward moment slipping between them. ‘In my spare time I’m an artist of sorts, and I tend to study faces with a view to portraiture. I was sketching you before I made my presence known.’

Her eyelashes fluttered. ‘Oh, really? Would you share your portrayal with me, sir? I’m no mean judge of talent.’

He fanned his hand at that. ‘Not until it’s completed. Only then you may be my judge, Miss Trevallyn.’

At a sudden tugging at his sleeve, he glanced down. ‘What is it, Rob? You’ve something to show me?’

Chattering on with his small crutch in one hand, his nephew virtually steered him across the room to his tiny desk. Rob watched for his reaction as he displayed his letters marked in copperplate on his slate, under the caption Anno Domini, 1840.

He must encourage the child. ‘Good work, Rob. And mind you do well with your learning, young man. In times like these we must discipline ourselves to both outwit and outflank our enemies.’

The boy nodded, ‘Yes, Uncle Charles.’

It tugged at his heart to see the boy’s puzzled expression. It revealed a childlike innocence as to who his enemies might possibly be.

As Rob resumed his seat, she commented, ‘That’s a strange philosophy, sir. After all, he’s still only a child. And a child who thoroughly hero-worships you.’

‘All the more reason he should learn this lesson speedily, Miss Trevallyn. One cannot be too naive as there are always those ready to deceive the trusting soul.’

‘Oh, surely, Captain, that’s too pessimistic a view. We cannot altogether lose our faith in people. Trust begets trust.’

Ah, the naivety of one who’d never experienced the hard knocks of life. ‘Perhaps you’ve been overly sheltered, dear lady. At the risk of sounding cynical, I’ve learned this snippet of truth from sheer experience. It’s an unfortunate fact that charlatans and ne’er-do-wells have always abounded. Why, even the Holy Bible exhorts us to be wise as serpents, yet harmless as doves.’

Her widened eyes and arched brows demonstrated an absolute sincerity. ‘Sir, I’m not completely blind as to these rogues you speak of. But if, as an officer and a gentleman, you choose to quote Scripture, then so shall I. Your point is well taken as long as we Trust in the Lord and lean not to our own understanding.’

With a brief salute, he resumed their verbal duel. ‘I must concur. But we’re also informed, Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding.’

Dear girl. She blinked at his one-upmanship.

He grinned. ‘Please don’t misunderstand me, Miss Trevallyn, I’m no sceptic. I simply believe that the Good Lord has given us a mind whereby we make educated choices.’

‘Then I suppose we agree. Perhaps it’s merely that we’re seeing things from a different perspective.’

She’d stuck to her guns. He liked that in a woman. Time to concede, ‘And for that divergence I’m grateful. What would we men do in certain instances without a woman’s intuition?’

She smiled at his leading question but, with a brief nod, returned to her pupil.

Why leave it at that? With his training goading him to take the offensive, he’d make an attempt to regain the high ground where—shrewd girl—she’d positioned herself. Despite her previous reticence, she’d thawed enough for him to try another move.

‘I say, would you judge it too forward of me to enquire when you’re finished for the evening, if you’d do me the honour of accompanying me on a carriage ride around town? Simply to bring me up to date on Rob’s progress.’ Flipping his gauntlets together, he assumed a more serious expression.

After a moment’s hesitation, during which a slight crease formed between her brows, her answer came. Ah, but those thick eyelashes fluttered again. ‘Then, in that case I shall be pleased to join you, Captain Cantrell. Yes, I’d enjoy discussing Rob’s latest achievements.’

‘Until tonight,’ he reminded her. And with a click of his heels, he left.

Curious, she watched his retreating figure. He was one of the very few who sparked her interest. And, judging by young Rob’s enthusiastic approval, this brother-in-law of her employer proved to be an extremely engaging man. Yet why should he, a man of some consequence, want to go driving with her, a mere governess?

Oh, that sudden tingling up her spine. Could he have felt some attraction, too? This tall, handsome man cut a dashing figure in his superb, red, brass buttoned uniform. And those piercing, deep blue eyes. And that fine seam of a diagonal scar crossing his cheek. Had he gained it on a battlefield?

Later, as she watched young Rob licking his fingers as he devoured his early meal of coddled egg and raspberry jam on crumpets, she acknowledged him as her special little man. Mm, but now another intriguing man—and a man to take one’s breath away, had just ventured across her narrow horizons.

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish. Mrs Hugh Cantrell would surely disapprove of such audacity. Would her position be placed in jeopardy? By accepting his invitation, she’d neatly placed herself in no-man’s-land. Despite her misgivings, she laughed outright at that wry summation. Spending a whole evening conversing with someone with whom she’d discovered a genuine rapport—an experience not to be missed. Perhaps she’d even discover a kindred mind. Yet this outing was neither proper nor prudent.

She began pacing her room.

For the brief thrill of flouting convention what a chance she’d be taking. Should she trust this Captain Charles Cantrell? In all probability he could be merely toying with her. Neither born to wealth, nor with prospect of marrying into it, her career must be that of servitude to the well-heeled. Oh no, men of his rank did not openly escort governesses. Perhaps a case of Them and Us.

And yet, his eyes had searched hers as if he’d truly wanted to listen, to understand her opinions. Then again, could he be a charmer skilful at seducing a woman?

No, she’d not put herself in such a vulnerable position. Ever again.

In the midst of her pendulum-like indecision, several taps on her door made her start. A maid handed over an envelope and, covering her mouth, giggled as she scurried off.

Only the captain would have sent word in this manner. An apology? Something more important had come up? Oh, well. Her decision had been snatched away by expediency.

Smitten as surely as if he’d received a bullet wound to the heart, Charles Cantrell, smiled. As an army field officer, he’d always enjoyed the company of flirtatious ladies. But this young woman seemed more interested in his philosophy of life. And again he recalled another of the Scot’s biblical quotations. Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing. Could this be what he’d needed? Could this be something he should act upon without hesitation?

He flipped open his notebook. Yes, he’d captured her lines well. That notion caused a slow grin. Indeed, he’d like to capture a little more of this Megan Trevallyn.

The nasal tones of his sister-in-law disturbed his reverie. ‘Oh, there you are, dearest

Charles. Now where have you been hiding yourself?’

‘Visiting my clever, young nephew, Cornelia. Seems as if his new governess is bringing the best out of her pupil.’

‘She should. She’s being paid for the privilege. Still, I suppose one must give credit where it’s due. Robbie has certainly come along.’

He refrained from further comment with the young woman’s face lingering in his thoughts. He’d have enjoyed her company at the dinner table but Cornelia would never stand for it. An unmitigated snob, in truth, she believed herself a cut above everyone not of her social standing. Yet Megan Trevallyn’s mind would categorically outclass that of his sister-in-law’s feeble brain processes.

Anticipating his later tryst he scribbled a note and sent it via the maid.

Now he must get through dinner in an amiable manner with Hugh and his wife.

With curiosity whetted, Megan tore open the envelope and read aloud, ‘In case you were hesitating, I have arranged for a suitable chaperone, a very dear friend of mine, who will accompany us. I hope to meet you at the front entrance, precisely at nine.’

She kissed the note then began dressing in the one stylish outfit she possessed. There’d be no sneaking around with this officer. No slipping out the back but a meeting at the front stairs. What flair. And for him to be unashamed at escorting a young governess. Oh, how gallant.

She eyed the only bottle of cheap cologne she possessed. No. Not for him. She crushed a fresh sprig of lavender and it released its fragrance as she rubbed it on her wrists.

Maybe she’d always held to the conventions and maybe she’d always been too cautious, but she must also sift through the pitfalls. Surely there’d be no ulterior motives with this decent military captain? She recalled the warmth of his candid appraisal. Ah, yes, instinct whispered this Charles Cantrell was all he appeared to be—a fine Christian man. A tiny well of defiance bubbled up. Well then, why not grasp destiny in her own two hands? Perhaps far too soon for such an involvement but how could she restrain her heart? It possessed a will of its own.

As she walked onto the front landing, the curtains parted an instant, allowing a chink of light to escape. Ah, they’d monitored her. All right, she’d make certain to enjoy her jaunt and refuse to think of the consequences.

There he waited at the foot of the steps. Oh, he looked so handsome decked out in his regimentals. He watched as she descended. With a slight bow, he removed his cap with its blue and red plume and ushered her out to the street. A splendid, open landau awaited them with a uniformed driver holding the reins in readiness.

Had her escort sensed her shiver of excitement as he handed her up? And true to his word, there sat the chaperone. The exquisite old lady smiled, with the evidence of her extreme deafness indicated by a battered, brass ear-trumpet held up for the introductions.

As soon as the phaeton pulled away, Charles motioned with a chuckle, ‘You can put down the ear-piece, Molly, dear. You’ve well and truly done your duty for this evening.’

What did he mean? She gazed from him to the old lady and back again.

‘Miss Trevallyn, please excuse my brash conduct, and allow me to explain. This little charade has been necessary in order to protect your reputation. Molly’s attendance is for the total benefit of my insufferable’—he cleared his throat—‘I mean, my sister-in-law, your employer.’

‘And why do you assume I would not request you to turn this carriage around immediately, Captain Cantrell?’ Oh, she struggled to sound unbending, but maybe the anticipation oozing out of every pore betrayed her.

His answer revealed he knew it. ‘Because, my dear Miss Megan Trevallyn, I suspect we may indeed share much in common. More’s the pity if we allow stuffy convention to rob us of such a worthy discovery.’

Her heart throbbed happily. And why not? She’d already lost it to him. ‘Then, sir, this should long be an evening to remember. And though remiss of me, I must confess I’ll enjoy being part of your naughty charade.’

‘Ah, but Miss Trevallyn, you misunderstand. The pleasure of your company whilst suitably chaperoned is no pretence, merely an upholding of the outward appearances for propriety’s sake. Molly, my old nanny, can’t retain much nowadays, but she loves to go riding and that alone is all that fascinates her. Now, where shall we go this fine, starry night?’

Undeterred by Molly’s muted, rhythmic snoring, Charles’s light-hearted banter gradually dwindled and they talked of more serious matters long into the evening.

As they passed beneath the streetlamps, he marked Megan’s flushed cheeks and those sparkling eyes—a guileless young woman. And for the first time in years his restless spirit settled. He tucked the blanket securely around her shoulders. From years of decision-making, experience counselled him this was the time for complete candour. He had opened his heart, sharing things not normally shared at the first meeting. All his hopes and time itself had telescoped and he must somehow urge her to understand the gravity of their situation.

‘Megan, my dear Megan,’ he spoke in subdued tones, ‘I must confess I’m to leave shortly, as my detachment will soon be recalled to barracks. Hostilities have broken out again in South Africa. Ferocious Xhosa tribesmen have taken to plundering our poor settlers. At the risk of your taking flight, and in the harsh knowledge we’ll only be allowed the briefest of times, I must share what’s in my heart. Forgive me for barging into this, like the blunt soldier I am, but tonight I’ve made the most extraordinary discovery. Without you in my life my dear girl, things would never be the same.’

He caught her momentary hesitation. Would she believe him to be making flirtatious advances?

‘Oh, Charles, I detest the thought of you leaving now that we’ve found each other.’

His heart beat a tattoo. In a moment he drew her close and kissed the tip of her nose.

‘My dearest Megan, you’re everything I’ve ever desired—and more. We must not waste a precious moment.’

‘Oh. How long do we have?’ As her eyes widened, he registered her dismay.

‘A week, maybe more, possibly less. Vexation! How shall I tolerate leaving you?’

As the reality of their grim predicament set in, he tilted her face toward him. The sheer urgency of the situation compelled him and he burst out, ‘Marry me!’

She pulled away. ‘Ah, Charles, don’t. I can’t bear you to jest. Neither of us should rush into such a huge commitment. Especially as you’ll soon be leaving.’

He drew her back into his embrace. ‘I mean it, darling. My attraction for you can only grow deeper into a love I want to share with you. That’s my pledge.’

She stared up at him. ‘You do mean it, don’t you?’

‘Every single word. Megan, my love, will you marry me?’

She crossed both hands over her heart as her words tumbled out. ‘I must be mad, Charles, but yes! Yes, I will marry you.’

He grinned. ‘Wonderful. Time has denied us an engagement period, so I’ll find us a licence and a minister who’ll make us man and wife as soon as decently possible.’

A slight frown flickered. ‘But, Charles, where would I live once you’d gone away?’

‘Here in my own home, of course. Cornelia and Hugh will simply have to vacate the master suite.’

She winced. ‘But it’s not fitting.’ Her voice had risen. ‘You wouldn’t be there with me. Oh, couldn’t we be discreet about this?’

‘Discreet? In what way? I would hardly think a publicly recognised marriage could be considered that.’

As the carriage approached Mayfair, he lapsed into silence. Yes, he must evaluate her unusual request. He would have to employ some brilliant strategy, enough to convince her.

Judging by her hesitation, Megan might now be mulling over possible consequences of so hasty a union.

The moment the residence came into view, he saw her reluctance. Despite that well-worn maxim, They lived happily ever after, he judged by her tense attitude she’d reconsidered her decision.

‘Oh, Charles, I believe we’ve both acted precipitously. I don’t think I’d have the courage, as Rob’s governess, to suddenly assume the position of mistress of the household without your support. Please try to see the situation from my perspective. Can’t you imagine how unpleasant your sister-in-law could be if another woman, once in her employ, suddenly stepped in and took everything she believed belonged to her?’

He must reassure her. ‘But you’d be my wife, Megan. My wife! It’s only fitting you should rightfully claim this position.’

‘You’re asking too much, Charles. You’ll be leaving soon and oh … everything’s happening so fast. Too fast! I … I hardly know my own mind.’

‘Then what are you saying? Are you asking for us to wait until heaven only knows when I’ll return? Is that it?’

‘No, Charles. It’s just that I’m thinking of the repercussions. Oh, I only wish there were some other way.’

‘What? Skulking off to get married as if we’re ashamed? Hah! That’s not my style. I want the whole world to know you’re my wife. Can’t you understand that, darling?’

She placed her hand on his cheek. ‘I do understand and appreciate you for it, but …’

He’d never before experienced a woman attempting to undermine his determination, yet he understood her reasoning—his domineering sister-in-law, Cornelia.

‘Ah, yes, I suppose we do have one deuced problem. They’re living here simply because of Hugh’s unsuccessful business ventures. But in Cornelia’s eyes she feels this is her due. I could ask them to leave, but I wouldn’t, for Hugh’s sake.’

‘So you do see, Charles?’

He vented his breath and gave a brief nod. ‘I can see your resolve. So, it seems your intention is to remain in their employ as Rob’s governess? Very well, if you so wish.’ Then it came to him. ‘Done!’ He clapped his hands. ‘We’ll elope, and for the time left to us, we shall live out every single, vital moment.’

‘But our absence? They’d certainly jump to the obvious conclusion.’

‘Hah! Leave those details to me. The army has trained me in certain strategies and diversionary tactics I’m about to put to good use.’ He waggled a finger. ‘But on my return—God willing—I’ll announce to the whole world we are man and wife.’

She laughed. ‘You look decidedly smug, sir. Then, though both guilty of conspiracy, Captain Cantrell, I shall leave the problem in your professionally capable hands.’

He kissed her again. And she responded to his embrace as if she’d never let him go.

‘Oh, I shall love being married. But you’re entirely impossible. You do realise you’ve just swept me off my feet, clouded my good judgment and presented me with a daunting challenge.’

‘Hmm. If only you knew what control I’m exercising not to whisk you away this very night.’ He took her hand and placed in on his heart. ‘One other thing, my darling, you must promise me if your situation becomes untenable in any