Read Online Sea of Secrets: A Novel of Victorian Romantic Suspense by Amanda DeWees - Free Book Online
Authors: Amanda DeWees
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conversation.
“I asked after you, as if I had not seen you since your infancy,” she said slowly, “and he looked straight at me and said, ‘I must tell you that my daughter is dead to me. If Your Grace has no objection, I would prefer to speak of other subjects.’ Snubbed in my own drawing room, if you please! When I pressed him, he simply refused to say anything further.” She flung up her hands in exasperation, her jeweled rings twinkling. “I declare, the man has changed little in twenty years.”
I dropped my eyes to the carpet. “You must wonder what I have done to make him speak of me in such a fashion.”
“Oh, child, I believe I am a good enough judge of character to have no need of asking that,” she said gently. “Whatever rift there is between you cannot be rooted in anything you have done.”
Encouraged by these words, I dared to meet her eyes again, and saw only sympathy. “I would rather tell you how it came about, ma’am, than risk having you doubt me later,” I said.
“Of course, if you wish. I have told you I would be glad to listen.”
Awkwardly, conscious of the proximity of Felicity and her avowed interest in eavesdropping, I described as briefly as I could the events that had led to my parting from Father. The duchess listened attentively, without interrupting, but the sound of my own words in my ears was unconvincing. All too aware of the implausibility of my story, I stumbled and faltered. Why would she believe such an outlandish tale? I must sound spiteful as well as mendacious.
“I hope you can understand now why I wanted my whereabouts to be secret from him,” I said at last. “For the first time I feel free of him, of his disdain and disappointment. I know it seems unnatural in a daughter, unfilial—”
Miserably, I fell silent, biting my lips. I did not dare look at her again. In the silence the rumbling of the train pounded in my ears, and I waited in dread to hear what she would say.
Before she could speak, Felicity’s voice came gaily from across the carriage. “Aunt Gwendolyn, you must not be so secret with my cousin! Miss Yates and I want to know what you are saying. Come now, tell us what has absorbed you so.”
The duchess turned to them immediately, her usual warm smile supplanting whatever expression her face had worn an instant before. “Yes, we have been too exclusive, have we not? I cannot blame you for scolding. But if you will find the cards, dear, the four of us can have a game of speculation, and then we may all visit together.”
She moved toward the others, shepherding me with one light hand on my shoulder. She said nothing to me, but her hand gave a reassuring squeeze, and when I looked up I saw that her eyes, regarding me so gently, were full of tears.
Chapter Four
Night had fallen when we reached Ellsmere, the early but consuming nightfall of autumn, so that my first view of the estate was no more than a clutch of fleeting impressions: a long stretch of woods giving way to parkland and a huge building of pale stone that almost glimmered in its own light, extending higher and broader than I could see, and studded with the warm sheets of light that were windows. Later, by day, I would see that the massive main wing was flanked by two others: the west, the oldest part of the house, which reared a crenellated tower, and the east, a newer addition, a mass of gables and balconies.
I was surprised and disappointed not to be able to hear the ocean, but I had little time in which to think about it. After the relative calm of our train journey, our arrival at Ellsmere was a pandemonium. As soon as our coach stopped we were met by a flood of servants, and the bustle of our arrival was evidently not the only urgent matter on their minds.
When the duchess had pieced together the cause for the general air of confusion and apprehension, she turned to me with a sigh. “My dear, I hope you will bear with us. The re-plastering of the guest rooms is not yet
“I asked after you, as if I had not seen you since your infancy,” she said slowly, “and he looked straight at me and said, ‘I must tell you that my daughter is dead to me. If Your Grace has no objection, I would prefer to speak of other subjects.’ Snubbed in my own drawing room, if you please! When I pressed him, he simply refused to say anything further.” She flung up her hands in exasperation, her jeweled rings twinkling. “I declare, the man has changed little in twenty years.”
I dropped my eyes to the carpet. “You must wonder what I have done to make him speak of me in such a fashion.”
“Oh, child, I believe I am a good enough judge of character to have no need of asking that,” she said gently. “Whatever rift there is between you cannot be rooted in anything you have done.”
Encouraged by these words, I dared to meet her eyes again, and saw only sympathy. “I would rather tell you how it came about, ma’am, than risk having you doubt me later,” I said.
“Of course, if you wish. I have told you I would be glad to listen.”
Awkwardly, conscious of the proximity of Felicity and her avowed interest in eavesdropping, I described as briefly as I could the events that had led to my parting from Father. The duchess listened attentively, without interrupting, but the sound of my own words in my ears was unconvincing. All too aware of the implausibility of my story, I stumbled and faltered. Why would she believe such an outlandish tale? I must sound spiteful as well as mendacious.
“I hope you can understand now why I wanted my whereabouts to be secret from him,” I said at last. “For the first time I feel free of him, of his disdain and disappointment. I know it seems unnatural in a daughter, unfilial—”
Miserably, I fell silent, biting my lips. I did not dare look at her again. In the silence the rumbling of the train pounded in my ears, and I waited in dread to hear what she would say.
Before she could speak, Felicity’s voice came gaily from across the carriage. “Aunt Gwendolyn, you must not be so secret with my cousin! Miss Yates and I want to know what you are saying. Come now, tell us what has absorbed you so.”
The duchess turned to them immediately, her usual warm smile supplanting whatever expression her face had worn an instant before. “Yes, we have been too exclusive, have we not? I cannot blame you for scolding. But if you will find the cards, dear, the four of us can have a game of speculation, and then we may all visit together.”
She moved toward the others, shepherding me with one light hand on my shoulder. She said nothing to me, but her hand gave a reassuring squeeze, and when I looked up I saw that her eyes, regarding me so gently, were full of tears.
Chapter Four
Night had fallen when we reached Ellsmere, the early but consuming nightfall of autumn, so that my first view of the estate was no more than a clutch of fleeting impressions: a long stretch of woods giving way to parkland and a huge building of pale stone that almost glimmered in its own light, extending higher and broader than I could see, and studded with the warm sheets of light that were windows. Later, by day, I would see that the massive main wing was flanked by two others: the west, the oldest part of the house, which reared a crenellated tower, and the east, a newer addition, a mass of gables and balconies.
I was surprised and disappointed not to be able to hear the ocean, but I had little time in which to think about it. After the relative calm of our train journey, our arrival at Ellsmere was a pandemonium. As soon as our coach stopped we were met by a flood of servants, and the bustle of our arrival was evidently not the only urgent matter on their minds.
When the duchess had pieced together the cause for the general air of confusion and apprehension, she turned to me with a sigh. “My dear, I hope you will bear with us. The re-plastering of the guest rooms is not yet
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