Whitefield Hall: Romance With a Kiss of Suspense

By Vicki Hopkins

As a young lady, Elizabeth Dutton chose the occupation of a hired companion, rather than seeking love and marriage. She accepts a new position to keep company with the mother of the 4th Baron of Warrington, who is not interested in having a companion. As the weeks pass in a strife-filled home occupied by bickering adults, Elizabeth wonders if she will be the next companion to mysteriously disappear from Whitefield Hall.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vicki Hopkins
• Release date: Jun 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781732097193

Vicki Hopkins

Vicki started her writing career somewhat late in life, but can attest to the fact that it is never too late to follow your dreams. Her debut novel was released in 2009, and six books later and another on the way, she doesn't think she will stop any time soon. She is an award-winning and best selling author in historical sagas/historical romance.​With Russian blood on her father's side and English on her mother's, she blames her ancestors for the lethal combination in her genes that influence her stories. Tragedy and drama might be found between her pages, but she eventually gives her readers a happy ending.She lives in the beautiful, but rainy, Pacific Northwest with a pesky cat who refuses to let her sleep in. Her hobbies include researching her English ancestry, traveling to England when she can afford it, and plotting her next book.

Book preview

Chapter One

The Advertisement

Wanted - A respectable , young woman as a companion to an elderly lady. Must possess satisfactory testimonials from prior employment. The applicant should be competent, with a solid English education, social graces, and possess the ability to speak French fluently. Her accomplishments should include drawing, ornamental needlework, dancing, singing, and possess skill playing the harp or pianoforte. Apply between the hours of ten o’clock in the morning and two o’clock in the afternoon.

Elizabeth read the advertisement at least three times while the hansom cab made its way through the busy streets of London to an address in the Kensington district. Afraid of being one of the many ladies to seek an audience for the position, she left early to arrive slightly before ten o’clock. Unemployed for almost two months, Elizabeth’s determination bordered on desperation. Her savings dwindled precariously low, providing two more months of rent at a boarding house where she lodged in a single room.

She preferred being a companion rather than any other type of employment. It suited her personality. As a good conversationalist on a variety of subjects, and talented in social skills, she found the work stimulating. Her last employer appreciated her abilities as a good listener, who gave kind encouragement to others. Elizabeth could not imagine doing anything else in life. Nonetheless, if she had to choose between the workhouse and another position in service, she would gladly be a scullery maid instead. With her early arrival and aim to be the first interviewed, Elizabeth remained hopeful this new position would be an answer to prayer.

As the cab slowed, she glanced out the window gawking at the expensive residences lining the street. The stylish architecture of white buildings and black wrought iron fences indicated the wealth of its occupants. A flurry of excitement tightened her stomach at the possibilities that lay ahead. The carriage halted, and the driver announced her arrival. Unsure who the prospective employer would be, by its location, she assumed they were upper middle class or perhaps aristocrats.

This is the address, miss.

Elizabeth paid the fare and walked toward the door, checking the house number to assure she arrived at the correct location. When her foot landed on the stoop, she tugged the hem of her walking jacket. Each button remained in the hole, and Elizabeth brushed the wrinkle from her skirt. After checking the placement of her hat, she gave her cheeks a quick pinch for color.

Satisfied that she looked presentable, Elizabeth gave the knocker a few hard taps and stared at the brass lion’s head that dared her to enter. No one answered straightaway, which brought a prick of anxiety the employer ignored her due to the early arrival. Perhaps her eagerness to be first had not been a good idea.

An elderly gentleman finally opened the door, who she assumed to be a butler by his appearance. Taller than Elizabeth, he peered down at her with a disgruntled expression, at which point she introduced herself before he spoke.

My name is Elizabeth Dutton, and I am here about the advertisement for a companion. She stood erect and posture perfect, even though her nerves jingled like bells from head to toe.

You are early, he grumbled. It is not yet ten.

Aware of her purposeful premature arrival, she apologized and made an excuse. Oh, I am sorry, she said, conveying an embarrassed expression. My watch must be fast. The butler continued to ponder her appearance and finally opened the door wide enough for her to enter. She had lied, of course, as the watch kept perfect time. It was ten minutes to the hour. Surely, a small fib would not be too disappointing to the good Lord above.

You may come in, he sternly announced.

Thank you, sir.

Elizabeth stepped into a grand foyer with tall ceilings and a large crystal chandelier hanging above her head. A white marble floor, shiny like ice, met the heels of her black pumps. A terrible unladylike urge to sprint and slide across it tingled her toes. An impressive red-carpeted staircase to the second floor sat to the left and a hallway to the right that led to other rooms.

Wait here, and I will announce your arrival.

The butler departed and disappeared into a room a few doors down the hall. Elizabeth, inherently curious, glanced around the interior, taking note of the expensive décor, paintings, and a large parlor nearby. Without a doubt, she arrived at the residence of a wealthy businessman or perhaps a peer. She cocked her head to peek into the parlor. The temptation to snoop further vanished at the sound of the butler’s shoes clicking on the floor, heading back in her direction. He stopped a few feet away, set his mouth in a hard line, and spoke.

Lord Beaumont will see you now. Follow me. He scowled at her obviously miffed. Frankly, had it been me, I would have made you wait until ten o’clock.

Though the butler appeared elderly with an abundance of gray hair and wrinkles, the man possessed a curt tongue and a quick step. Elizabeth attempted to keep up with his pace but feared she would slip on the glossy floor if she walked too fast. Nearly out of breath when they arrived at the doorway, she wanted to make an excellent first impression. She pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and recollected her finishing school teacher’s instructions on the proper way a lady should present herself when applying for employment.

The butler opened a double door that led into an apparent study. Rather than being dark and gloomy as others, she had entered into a large open room. Its tall ceiling made her appear short and insignificant in comparison. Two lengthy vertical windows allowed the outdoor sun to illuminate the interior. Bookcases filled the left side, and a large mahogany desk sat on the right, with two chairs in front. A man who looked to be in his midthirties sat behind it. With dark brown hair, a lean frame, and serious-looking face, Elizabeth thought him a bit too thin but pleasant to gaze upon. His complexion appeared light, accented by dark eyes and a square jawline that gave him a commanding air.

Your lordship, Miss Dutton, the butler announced.

Thank you, Hargrave, the man responded, not lifting his head.

As swiftly as he entered, the butler retreated, and closed the door behind him, leaving Elizabeth standing in the middle of the room alone. The prospective employer did not react at her entrance but kept his attention upon a piece of paper in his hand, studying its contents. Elizabeth gave a quick curtsy that went unnoticed. Silence persisted, and Elizabeth began counting the seconds as they passed. About to reach sixty, she decided to clear her throat and make a sound. Suddenly, his head lifted and acknowledged her arrival, but he failed to possess the courtesy to rise to his feet, as a gentleman should when a lady enters the room. She found his manners severely lacking.

Miss Dutton, why don’t you have a seat, he said, pointing to a chair in front of his desk.

Irritated he still had not risen to greet her entrance, Elizabeth took a step forward and sat. At last, he released the paper in his hand and laid it face down on his desk. His attention moved to Elizabeth’s face and shifted elsewhere to examine her appearance as a whole. Without speaking a word, his eyes roved over her from the top of her head to her waist. In spite of the uncomfortable scrutiny on his part, Elizabeth maintained composure and held her tongue until he engaged the conversation.

Thank you for coming in response to my advertisement, he began. It is apparent by the early arrival you planned to be first in that chair.

The gentleman’s face remained emotionless, though Elizabeth wondered if he were silently scolding her for being premature in pursuit of employment.

I do apologize, she replied, trying to sound contrite. Apparently, I severely miscalculated the time needed to travel across town to your residence. Elizabeth’s second deceitful excuse had flowed from her lips, causing her to make a mental note to pray for forgiveness before bedtime. It then dawned on her that the butler might have conveyed her excuse about her watch. Inwardly, she cringed at the thought of the conflicting lies.

No matter, he said flatly. I assume you believe in the trite saying that the early bird catches the worm. A slight smirk curled the corner of his mouth.

When he spoke, his voice was deep and commanding. In response, Elizabeth sat erect, not leaning as if she were overly confident. As her finishing teacher instructed, Elizabeth’s spine did not touch the back of the chair.

The gentleman clasped his hands on the desk in front of him and began a solemn recitation in a monotone voice.

I am seeking a companion for my elderly mother because I am often away on business. I hold concerns regarding her solitude while absent. He paused as if he expected her to say something in reply. Elizabeth nodded her head and spoke.

Understandable, she agreed, maintaining eye contact with Lord Beaumont.

I assume you read the list of extensive qualifications that I seek in a young lady. Can you adequately fulfill those expectations?

Confident that her skills were adequate, Elizabeth replied calmly. I do possess those qualities, your lordship, having graduated from finishing school. My training included the social graces you enumerated in your advertisement.

Hmm, he mused. Social graces are one aspect, but what of artistic talent? Do you possess any in the way of drawing or music?

Of course, she replied. I am well trained in how to draw, sing, and play the pianoforte.

And what of experience as a companion? His voice deepened as he continued to ask questions.

Elizabeth sensed an impersonal air about him that made her doubt whether the position would be suitable. Lord or not, a cold atmosphere filled the room as he displayed a calculating stare in her direction. If she were not so desperate to find work, it would have been a good time to stand up and leave. Nevertheless, since she would not be his companion, Elizabeth continued.

I recently retired from a three-year position in the home of Bishop Howard as a companion to his elderly mother. She passed away two months ago. Elizabeth explained her recent situation, which he diminished with his response.

Well, this is no home of a clergyman, he coolly remarked. I am the fourth Baron of Warrington, and my mother is the Dowager Baroness of Warrington.

With the mystery of his title answered, she kept her composure and spoke. It is a pleasure to meet you, your lordship, she replied, lying again. Astounded over his snobbish declaration of nobility, Elizabeth suppressed the urge to shift in her seat. With resolve, she kept eye contact, thinking he decided her experience did not meet aristocratic standards. One thought of her bank account balance, caused her to speak up in her defense.

You can be certain that I am not intimidated by the prospect of meeting your family’s social acquaintances if that is your concern, she firmly replied. Elizabeth disliked his insinuation that a clergyman was of little regard compared to nobility. I assure you that I possess in hand excellent testimonials of my skills. The bishop was kind enough to write a letter of introduction, detailing my duties and accomplishments for your consideration. She reached inside of her drawstring reticule and retrieved an envelope bearing the bishop’s seal.

Very well, I shall consider its contents since the Bishop of London found you adequate.

He reached forward and took the letter from Elizabeth’s hand, examining the seal and then opening the document. Elizabeth sat still as he read the contents, watching his face for any indication of approval. Once again, his facial expression revealed nothing. When he finished the testimonial, Elizabeth continued the conversation.

Might I inquire is the position to be here at your residence?

Rarely, he replied, continuing to peruse the letter. After finishing it, he folded the document and replaced it in the envelope. My primary residence, Whitefield Hall, is located in Warrington, situated between Liverpool and Manchester.

Elizabeth’s heart sank as she wished to remain in London. Warrington, she repeated, disenchanted over the location so far to the north. Her eyes lowered to her hands in her lap, contemplating the inconvenience.

Do you find the locality to be problematic, Miss Dutton?

Elizabeth looked up at him and saw his narrowed eyes. He recognized Elizabeth’s distinct lack of joy at the whereabouts of the position. Rather than giving in to the disappointment, she lied again.

"No, your lordship, I do not find it a problem at all. I was merely