Knightfall

By Jane Shoup

SO DARK...

After suffering unparalleled tragedy, Leah Middleton knows she’s fortunate to be taken in at her deceased mother’s ancestral home. But the disdain her family – The Knights of Red Ridge Hall – held for her free-spirited mother is transferred to Leah, and they revel in letting her know it. A proud and noble family, the Knights hold expectations Leah doesn’t believe she can meet, certainly not while staying true to her loving, system-defying parents, and especially when it comes to Dr Grayson Slade. He is as far from a desirable match as her family could imagine, and to make matters worse, she learns he holds secrets that can tear her newfound security from her tenuous grasp.

ONLY LOVE’S LIGHT CAN SHINE THROUGH

Doctor Grayson Slade is assistant to Dr Theodore Knight, founder of The Knight Society, a benevolent institution for unwanted and ill children. Grayson himself was rescued off the streets of London as a boy and he wants no more in life than what he has attained. Until the moment he lays eyes on Leah Middleton. But evil is flourishing, and he can only do so much to stop it. As mysteries begin to unravel, unthinkable truths are revealed and a malevolent threat closes in. Grayson knows he has no choice – he must do what’s right to keep Leah’s love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
• Release date: Oct 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781948029391

Jane Shoup

Jane Shoup is an award-winning author of several books including Down in the Valley and Spirit of the Valley (Kensington), Ammey McKeaf and the other books of the Azulland Chronicles (Diversion), Restoration and more. She lives in North Carolina with her husband Scott and near her three adult daughters, sons in law, grand-daughters and grand-puppy. She is passionate about writing, especially about creating characters that stay with readers long after the book is finished.

Book preview

PART I

Red Ridge Hall

Chapter One

In the lulling, continually rocking coach, the sound of shotgun fire startled Leah Middleton from a stupor borne of fatigue and boredom, and she jerked her gaze out the window to see hundreds of blackbirds fleeing a massive oak, shrieking indignantly. The stark contrast of the birds against the tree and a whitish-grey sky was the only image she’d seen worth mentally storing in days. The journey had been mind-numbingly dull and enormously uncomfortable in the bumpy, freezing-cold conveyance, and the bleak winter scenery beyond was not much better.

Monstrously uncomfortable and monotonous, she muttered, despite the fact she was the coach’s only occupant. It had been sent to fetch her and her alone. She was grateful for it, both the transport and place to go, but it was still miserable.

It’s been only four days, Leah’s eight-year-old sister said. Hannah was suddenly perched daintily in the middle of the seat opposite Leah, utterly serene and unruffled in her cape and bonnet and with her hands tucked inside her favourite fur muff.

"Only, Leah retorted. Easy for you to say. You who can come and go at will."

Oh, I don’t know how much will there is to it, ten-year-old James said. He was now seated next to Leah.

You know what I mean, she replied testily, giving him a look. My feet are frozen. My body craves exertion.

Monstrously monotonous, James mused. That’s rather difficult to say, isn’t it?

Monstrously monotonous, Hannah repeated. It’s not so difficult.

Say it fast, James challenged.

The driver is practically a mute, Leah continued, ignoring her siblings. I do not believe he’s uttered a dozen words to me.

You always exaggerate, James stated.

Leah huffed indignantly. I do not. And let us establish one thing. You are not suddenly wise and all-knowing simply because you’re dead.

Mama says you should say ‘passed over,’ Hannah reminded her.

Well, be sure and tell on me. I should dearly love for her to show herself and chastise me.

James smirked. Sorry, but we do know things you don’t, and you can hardly stand it.

What I can hardly stand are expressions of condescension and piety from my younger brother and sister.

Who happen to be dead and thus know things you don’t know, James finished triumphantly.

Whom I taught much of what you know, and please do not forget it.

We would never forget that, Leah, Hannah offered soothingly.

The driver has spoken more than twelve words, though, James persisted.

Fine; we’ll count, Leah replied. First, there was ‘I’m sent for you, Miss.’

That’s five words, James replied. Six if he said I am rather than I’m.

He said ‘I’m,’ Leah insisted.

Five words, then. Go on.

Later, when we stopped at the inn—

You did store away some nice images that day, Hannah interjected wistfully. Let’s talk about those.

Counting, James reminded Hannah.

Leah thought about it. He said, ‘We’re to stop here,’ she continued. ‘It’s arranged.’

That’s six more, James said. But I think he added something else.

Leah rolled her eyes. All right. He said, ‘We leave again at six.’

And you inquired after his name, Hannah reminded her. Which was good manners.

It was true. She had asked and he’d replied Fincher in such a manner as one person might curse at another. Then this morning, she’d asked how much farther they had to go, and he’d replied, a ways, as if that told her anything. So, it was over a dozen. Fine. My apologies.

No apology necessary, James offered magnanimously. The point was that you always exaggerate.

I do not always exaggerate, but I’m not in the mood to discuss it anymore. Leah closed her eyes and stretched her neck side to side. Slowly, she rolled her shoulders. Then she rounded her back and extended her arms in front of her. She rose, as best she could, and turned sideways to straighten her legs and give her backside a moment of relief. She’d gotten good at balancing as she did this, but the coach hit a hole at that moment and she was sent careening.

She got up, cursing under her breath, and sat back down, caressing the sore spot on her shoulder. Naturally, she was alone again in the coach. She retrieved the lap rug that had fallen to the floor and manoeuvred it to go over her lap and under her feet. Not that it helped much.

She leaned against the side of the coach and looked out the window. Her breath fogged the air and glass, and absentmindedly she swiped it with her gloved finger. Winter was more advanced here in the moorlands. Trees were mostly bare, only the skeletons of leaves hanging on. Not that there would have ever been a good time to go to Red Ridge Hall, but there could scarcely have been a worse time. Red Ridge Hall, she whispered. Yes, I live at Red Ridge Hall, she said, trying it on for size. I’m Miss Middleton of Red Ridge Hall. How do you do?

She had a wonderful imagination, and yet she could not quite imagine the place she was headed toward, the place that had been her mother’s home until she ran away to marry the village minister’s second-born son. The event caused such scandal and derision that the Knights, her maternal family, and the Middletons had severed relations with their children.

Her mother had been only sixteen, her father a year older. Leah’s gaze grew vacant as she imagined her mother at such a tender age, leaving her home and family to be with the man she loved. How frightened they both must have been, having left all safety and security behind.

Leah’s face tingled and her eyes filled, but she took a deep breath and held it. She had to get control of her emotions before she arrived. Her mother had spoken little about her upbringing, but she’d said her parents disapproved of displays of passion in any form. Leah pressed gloved fingers to the corners of each eye and sniffed hard. There had been a time, and not long ago, that she’d been proud of her ability to tear up at will. Now, she spent such effort trying not to cry. So many evenings had been spent with her family reading plays, each of them taking a part. My girl’s a natural, her father had frequently boasted after listening to one of her monologues.

Indeed, her mother had replied. With quite a flair for the dramatic, which needs to be curbed more often than not, she’d added with a wry smile.

I believe I have mentioned that very thing to her, Will Middleton said with great amusement in his eyes. Have I not, Leah? More logic, less emotion.

Indeed he had. So many times, in fact, that she mouthed it while he said it, to the delight of her siblings.

Leah inhaled and exhaled. Her days of dramatic recitations were over. She’d been confident enough with her family, but she would never be that free to be herself again, especially amongst people who disliked displays of emotion.

What do you think our grandparents will be like? Hannah asked. She was back again, peering at Leah earnestly.

I don’t know. Mama hardly ever talked about them, even when I asked. All she really knew was that that the Knight family was wealthy, which meant she would not know hunger or deprivation.

While she had never experienced luxury, the thought of being on her own had frightened her. It had frightened her mother, as well. So much so that she’d written to her family pleading that they accept and care for the only living child she knew she would leave behind. A cool but affirmative reply had come only after her death. Not knowing had made Meg Middleton’s last days agonizing, despite the fact that close family friends, the Roes, had promised to care for Leah until she was able to secure a position as a governess or a lady’s maid.

Will you call them grandmother and grandfather? Hannah asked.

Well, I can hardly call them Godfrey and Desdemona, now can I?

Hannah giggled.

Grandmother, dear, how are you? Leah practiced. Hello, Grandfather.

Lovely dress, Grandmother dear, James spoke up, playing along. You don’t look nearly so fat in this one.

Hannah laughed full out, which made them all follow suit.

Oh, Grandfather, James said, doing his level best to make a sour face as he waved a hand in front of his face. Was that you? Again? Crack a window, old man.

The sheer absurdity drove home the point that it all sounded so put on. She had never called anyone by those titles, and now that she was grown, it seemed almost silly. She also had an Uncle Lars, an Uncle Abraham, and an Aunt Felicity, but she wasn’t certain which of her uncles Felicity was married to. It was possible there was another aunt and scores of cousins. But she didn’t know. Admittedly, cousins would be nice, especially if some were close to her age.

Do you think they’ll be like us? Hannah asked.

I don’t know, Leah replied impatiently.

Hannah sulked and then disappeared.

I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m nervous. Leah waited, but Hannah did not reappear. I’m sorry, she murmured again.

I know what you’re worried about, James said. He was still seated next to her. You’re worried they won’t like you because you so favour Papa.

She frowned worriedly, since he’d so succinctly hit on the truth. She drew her cloak tighter and stamped her feet to get the blood moving and swayed as the coach made a turn. Oh, how much further? I shall freeze to death in here.

Did you not look at a map?

Of course, I did, she snapped.

And?

It’s north. Not quite as far as York.

That’s north, all right, James agreed. Not very specific though.

Looking out James’s window, she noticed a castle ahead and her heart lurched. Was Red Ridge Hall a castle? It’s a magnificent place, her father once said. Place, he’d said, not castle. One would think one’s own parents would mention if one’s grandparents lived in a castle.

The castle was a grey stone structure of massive proportions with corner towers. She stared, wanting to drink in every last detail so that she could draw it later. Even if it was not Red Ridge Hall, which it probably was not, it was extraordinary.

The coach slowed and turned. The sound the wheels made was different because they were now driving on cobblestones. She stared out her own window as they approached the Hall.

So, this was it? This was Red Ridge Hall.

Her heart began to hammer painfully.

Chapter Two

Abraham Knight caught sight of the coach and turned his horse to start back. Poor little Leah would not receive much of a reception, and she deserved to be met by somebody with a pulse. His greyhounds followed closely, barking merrily at his heels. Hello, Leah, he called as he overtook the coach. Welcome.

He couldn’t make out the occupant inside, not that it mattered what Leah looked like. She was his niece, the daughter of his only sister. Ever since learning of Meg’s letter, he’d been imagining a younger version of his sister: mild-spirited, intelligent and fair-haired with hazel eyes that resembled his own. He rode ahead, dismounted in front of the hall, hitched his horse and strode over to meet the coach as it came to a full stop. Down, he commanded his dogs. Stay. For once, they obeyed. Hello, Fincher, he called.

Sir, Fincher said back.

Any problems?

Nary a one, sir.

Abraham opened the passenger door saying, How was your journey? When his eyes lit upon her his throat tightened from shock. He realized it was a good thing he’d already spoken. His niece was no child. She was a breathtakingly beautiful young woman with exceptionally dark hair, sapphire blue eyes, and delicate features. She looked, Abraham realized with a sinking feeling, very like Will.

Fine, Leah replied. Thank you, sir.

Oh, no, not sir, he chided lightly, holding out a hand to assist her. Rather your most handsome and charming uncle, Abraham. He bowed his head. At your service.

She took his hand and her smile broadened. It’s wonderful to meet you, Uncle Abraham.

Uncle Abraham, he repeated. That will take some getting used to. I’ve never been an Uncle Abraham before.

She alighted from the coach slowly, looking increasingly awed. It really is a castle, she marvelled. I do not know exactly what I was expecting, but—

You’ll get used to it in no time at all, he assured.

She looked at him with an expression so full of anxiety, his cavalier smile faded. I am glad you’re here, Leah, but I am terribly sorry for the reason. You’ve suffered a great tragedy, the likes of which most people never endure. She looked down, fighting for composure, but then lifted her chin and looked back into his eyes. Tears swam in hers, deepening their colour, but she would keep them in check. She had inner strength. He both saw and felt it.

I know they’re watching over me, she half whispered.

I feel certain that’s true. And now I shall help them from…well, this side, as it were. Now, let’s get you inside and warm. He offered his arm and they started forward, but she stumbled and would have fallen had he not held fast.

I’m sorry, she apologized. My feet are a b—bit numb.

Of course, they are. We’ll get you inside and in front of a fire straight away.

They walked on, more carefully this time, and the front doors began to open, which either enchanted or perhaps alarmed Leah—Abraham couldn’t tell which. That will be Rudger, our butler. She seemed so overwhelmed. Did you have servants? he asked haltingly.

She released a breath in a sort of laugh. Did you know my father?

Yes. Or I thought I did. I was only a slip of a boy when they left.

Ah. Well, we did not. Have servants, that is.

They started up the four front steps. None at all?

None at all.

So, my sister kept house? And cooked?

Yes, of course. With our help.

Meg. Cooking, cleaning, raising children, running a household, and all by choice—unbelievably astounding. As they stepped inside, Leah’s wide-eyed gaze went from Rudger, with his balding, bowed head, to the mural painted on the high, domed ceiling. The colours were badly faded, although he hadn’t noticed before now. He saw it afresh through Leah.

Oh, my, she breathed.

Abraham patted her hand, but his enjoyment drained at the sound of the familiar, approaching footfalls. Sure enough, his straight-backed, auburn-haired sister-in-law was closing in wearing her usual expression of superiority. He would have preferred to put this moment off until Leah had found her bearings, or at least unthawed, but there was no putting it off now.

Leah, may I introduce your Aunt Felicity, my brother’s wife, Abraham said before Felicity reached them. Oh, do try and look less severe. He chided Felicity. You’ll frighten our niece.

Or perhaps your humour will, Felicity replied drolly. "Or rather I should say attempt at humour. She looked at Leah appraisingly for several moments. Welcome to Red Ridge Hall, Leah."

Thank you, Aunt Felicity.

How old are you?

Se—nearly eighteen.

Felicity sniffed lightly. I thought you’d be younger.

I know, Abraham said sadly. So did I. Don’t suppose there’s much we can do about that though. And to think of all the ponies and china dolls I might have given you.

You did not come bareheaded, I hope, Felicity remarked in a disapproving tone.

No, Leah stammered. I left my bonnet in the coach.

Because I all but grabbed and whisked her out, Abraham quickly added.

Ah. So, she’s here, Lars called cheerfully as he approached.

She is, Abraham returned. And lovelier than we could have imagined. He looked at Leah. This is my elder brother. Your Uncle Lars.

Lars reached them and took Leah’s gloved hands in his. Welcome, my dear.

Thank you, Uncle Lars.

I find I must disagree with my brother, he said with a warm smile. "You are exactly as I imagined."

The front doors banged opened behind them and they all turned to see Fincher as he began to clump in with Leah’s trunk. Felicity’s eyes flashed with irritation. Around to the side, Fincher, she seethed through clenched teeth.

Yes, m’ lady, he grumbled. He started to back out, but the dogs bounded in around him.

Abraham, Felicity exclaimed. Really. Those cursed dogs.

Rosie, Abraham called sharply. Tippett. Out. He started after them but stopped to turn to Leah. I’ll be right back.

***

Leah felt a moment of unabashed panic.

So, Lars said. He gave her hands a warm squeeze and then released them. How long was the journey?

Four days, she replied.

He shook his head sympathetically. A journey like that, you think it will never end.

It seemed rude to agree, although she certainly did. She was aware of Felicity’s scrutiny. It was unnerving. The lady was attractive but seemed aloof and disapproving. Lars, on the other hand, seemed as friendly and pleasant as Abraham. The older brother had thinning fair hair and a rounder face than the younger, but the same hazel eyes. Much like her mother’s. The resemblance was heartrending.

Father is out for the time being, Lars continued. But allow me to take you to your grandmother.

Before she could utter a reply, a man cleared his throat directly behind her and Leah started. She turned and looked into the face of the butler.

Give him your cloak, dear, Felicity instructed, as if she were speaking to a simpleton.

Leah felt heat bloom in her face. Is that what she was behaving like? A simpleton?

He startled her, Abraham snapped as he strode back toward them. She’s not an imbecile, he scolded Felicity, no longer trying to sound pleasant.

Of course, she’s not, Lars added quickly. Nor was anyone suggesting. Really, Abraham.

Leah tried to untie her cloak, but it had formed an intricate knot. She felt everyone’s eyes boring into her, and the word imbecile that still hung in the air did not make unknotting it any easier. She jerked off her gloves, using her teeth for leverage and saw her aunt react with disdain.

Here, let me, Abraham offered, brushing her hands aside. No wonder. Your hands are as cold as ice.

He leaned closer and frowned as he worked, and Leah felt her face burn with mortification. They thought her a dolt—an unsophisticated, underprivileged dolt.

There, Abraham said. Got it. He helped her remove the cloak and handed it to the servant. Leah, this is Rudger. Rudger, my niece, Miss Leah Middleton.

Leah curtsied and then realized it was a blunder. Felicity recoiled and even Rudger looked offended in the moment before he bowed to her.

Now, then, Abraham said. Off to meet another of the dragons.

Abraham, really, Lars rejoined. "Do try to control your tongue."

Abraham offered his arm to Leah, ignoring Lars. It’s been ages since I had anyone so lovely to escort.

Perhaps that’s because you’ve made such a reputation for yourself, Felicity opined as she and Lars assumed the lead.

Abraham bobbled his head and made a sour face behind her back and Leah fought the urge to laugh. She was fatigued from the journey and the emotional strain, which meant every one of her feelings lurked closer to the surface than usual.

Instead, she focused her attention on the paintings they passed, which she longed to stop and study. There were portraits and landscapes, some of them huge. There were also elaborate pillars and tapestries and marble statues that reminded her of the grand palaces she’d made up in stories for her brother and sister.

How bizarre that their mother had grown up here. A maid came toward them but veered to the side of the corridor with her head lowered deferentially as if they were royalty and she was not fit to look upon them. It was disturbing. Leah suddenly felt like a fraud.

My mother should be in here, Lars spoke up in a louder-than-necessary voice as they approached a room.

Do you think so? Abraham asked as loudly. He rolled his eyes at Leah, but this time, she felt no inclination to laugh. She felt slightly ill with nerves. As she was led into a parlour, Abraham patted her hand. Courage, he breathed so that no one else could hear. She rarely breathes fire.

Lady Desdemona Knight sat in profile at a small desk reading something. Her head was bent to it, her elbow rested on the desk and her hand covered her face. Although she must have heard them approaching, she chose to wait until they stood there all in a row and Lars cleared his throat before she looked over at them. Leah’s breath caught in shock at the resemblance to her mother.

Desdemona was a lovely woman in her sixties, with fair but greying hair and beautifully shaped hazel eyes. But before Leah could enjoy even a split second of warmth, Desdemona’s gaze raked over her, head to toe and back again with utter derision.

Lars cleared his throat. Mother, may I present—

Leah Middleton, Desdemona enunciated precisely.

The words hung like glistening, lethally sharp icicles in the air. The realization that her grandmother detested her hit like an unexpected slap to the face. Her knees went weak. It felt as if she could not breathe.

Dinner is at half past seven, Desdemona said as she went back to whatever was in front of her. Dress—she glanced back up with a critical expression on her patrician features—as best you can.

Abraham seethed. You—

For a moment, Leah felt certain a curse word or perhaps a long string of them would follow.

You meet your granddaughter for the first time and that’s all you have to say? It’s particularly bloodless, Mother. Even for you.

Her gaze shot up at him, filled with fury, and Lars cleared his throat again. Leah, dear, you must be weary after your journey. We’ll have someone show you to your room so you can rest awhile and recover your strength.

I will show her, Abraham snapped.

Lars gave her a pained, apologetic smile, although Leah only noticed it as an afterthought as Abraham led her away. How strange. How could she feel both numb and cut to the very core of her being? And how could a woman despise the only living daughter of her only daughter? Was it the resemblance to her father, or had her mother’s running away been a betrayal that had never been forgiven? Was she now to inherit the ongoing punishment for the sins of her parents? She felt something cold on her upper lip. Wiping at it, she realized with mortification that her nose was running. She ducked her head, having just discovered she was crying.

Abraham stopped and fumbled to locate his handkerchief. Here, he said tenderly, handing it to her.

She accepted it with a trembling hand and wiped at her hands and nose. What an oaf she must look like. I’m sorry.

Oh, Leah, it is we who are sorry. We are a bitter, sorry lot, and you deserve so much better. The one and only thing I can promise is that you and I shall be good friends. Leah Middleton, he added, uttering her name in perfect mimicry of his mother.

She laughed despite her misery and felt a tiny measure of control return. With the way she says my name, she’ll never need to bother with insults.

They’ll come anyway, I’m sorry to say. Veiled and cutting. She can cut the heart from someone with a voice of velvet. You mustn’t take it personally, although that’s not easy, I admit, because it feels personal. But it’s not. She is as she is because she hates all the world.

Why?

He shrugged and shook his head. "I suppose because her life has been a disappointment. Oh, I don’t know why, nor can I honestly say that I care. The truth, Leah, and it is an appalling truth, is that I loathe them all. Is that not a dreadful thing? To loathe your own family?"

She had no idea what to say.

Come on. Let’s get you settled in, so that I may go back to my mother and tell her precisely what I think of her behaviour.

Oh, please don’t, Uncle Abraham.

Uh-uh-uh, he said, cutting her short and shaking his head. You are the niece. I am the uncle. Lovely young woman, he said, gesturing to her. Jaded adult man, he said, pointing to himself. "I will throw a fit if I so desire."

She smiled wanly and mentally thanked God for him. They walked on and ascended a wide staircase. At the second-floor landing, they started down a corridor with a carpet runner of blues and gold and scarlet. The wall-mounted candles provided a warm, flickering light.

Let’s find one good thing about this moment, Abraham suggested.

The carpet is pretty, she said.

Your feet aren’t completely numb anymore.

I have a wonderful, new uncle who makes me laugh, even at some of the worst moments of my life.

Actually, I haven’t heard you laugh yet. Although your smile is absolutely lovely.

She thought back on Lars’s fleeting smile. He’d meant well. He’d meant to be supportive. You don’t really loathe Uncle Lars, do you?

No, Abraham replied hesitantly. But I despise his weakness. His utter dependence on my parents’ good will. He’s led around by the nose… by everyone. And I despise his pomposity. But his heart is good. Of course, it’s buried under layers of fat and pretention.

It seemed wrong to smile, so she tried not to. Will I meet my grandfather at dinner?

I’m afraid so. Prepare yourself for yet another joyful encounter. However, I shall endeavour to make it as bearable as possible. Perhaps I shall wear a shiny red ball for a nose if I can concoct one in time. My mother will enjoy that.

She smiled at the thought.

However, if I cannot come up with one, I want you to picture it every time I do this. He sniffed slightly and swiped at his nose. All right? It will be our secret signal. It means these people are complete asses and buffoons, even if they don’t know it. He stopped before a door. Here we are. I personally chose the room for you, but if you don’t like it, you can choose another. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter.

Leah’s jaw nearly dropped as she entered the largest and most beautiful bedchamber she’d ever seen. After only a few steps in, she turned back to face him. This is for me?

It is.

It was roughly the size the main living area of their home had been. The walls were panelled in a rich golden brown and there was a curtained four-poster bed draped with a spread of navy and gold-striped fabric. There were two wardrobes. Two—when every item of clothing she possessed was scarcely enough to fill a third of one. Her clothing would be another disappointment—or perhaps point of irritation—to her grandmother. A fire crackled in the petite hearth, and beyond it was a sitting area. There was a desk and chair, a separate vanity table with an attached mirror, a free-standing full-length mirror, and a wide dressing screen in a back corner. There was even a table and chairs where she could eat a meal.

The family rooms are in this wing, but don’t worry; it’s a large wing. Three halls, twenty-six rooms in all, I believe. If you’re careful with your timing, you’ll rarely have to see the others, except at mealtime and the occasional social function.

She suddenly felt chilled and queasy by the thought of living with people that despised her.

When the dressmaker comes, which will be soon if I know my mother—and, unfortunately, I do—you should order new bed coverings and curtains and such. I thought about having something made, but you should choose. The colour and style and so forth.

It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen, Uncle Abraham. Thank you.

He smiled. I’ll let you settle in and I’ll return later to escort you to dinner. If you’re not too done in by your journey, I’ll show you around the estate tomorrow.

Oh, I’d love that.

He seemed buoyed by her enthusiasm as he left, shutting the door behind him. He really was handsome and kind, and far younger than she would have guessed—quite a good few years younger than her mother, and younger than Lars by ten or even fifteen years. She turned back and surveyed the room again. Her trunk and bag were already there, and her bonnet was sitting atop. The servants had brought it up. Servants who bowed their heads in the presence of the family. Was her father turning in his grave?

She walked over and sank down on a velvet settee near the hearth. She’d ridden in the coach for so many hours that she still felt the sensation of movement, but she had arrived. She was here, unwanted and despised by her own grandmother in this place of splendour. It did not feel real. Nothing felt quite real, except a sense of isolation. She took off her shoes, pulled her still half-frozen feet up on the seat, and covered them with her skirt. She leaned against the side pillows with a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. Are you here? she mouthed, fearful of being heard.

Poor Leah, Hannah said. Don’t be sad.

Leah opened her eyes and smiled down at her little sister who was sitting on the floor in front of her. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.

It’s all right. I know you’re nervous. But this is such a pretty room, she added, looking around.

James, standing in front of the fire, turned to Leah with a wry expression. "It is a nice room and all, but I don’t like our grandmother. Not a bit."

I don’t either, Leah admitted. Not a bit.

Chapter Three

The nine-year-old girl felt an area of pressure upon her chest, and she opened her eyes to see the most handsome man in the world as he hovered and listened to her heart through his ear scope. I made a poem about you, she said in a raspy voice.

His frown of concentration was replaced by a smile. You did? May I hear it?

She suddenly felt embarrassed. It’s not very good.

He pulled away and tucked his ear scope into his jacket pocket. If it’s about me, I’ll probably think it’s good, he teased. Unless it says bad things.

She grinned and shook her head. It doesn’t. ‘He wears his hair in a tail and his beautiful eyes… are a deep, dark brown and so very wise.’ She paused. That’s all I have so far.

I’m flattered, Polly. I like it very much. Now, tell me how you’re feeling.

"Better.