Lady Lorna Read online

  LADY LORNA

  Joan Smith

  Chapter One

  “Now who can be calling at this hour of the night?” Mama said, in no approving voice, as we sat before the grate that fateful evening. Eight o’clock may not seem like an ungodly hour to some, but to Mama, who takes very high ground in social matters, it was a dreadful breach of decorum. If it was anyone other than the vicar, he should prepare his ears for a singeing. It did not occur to either of us that our caller could be a female, and a proper lady at that.

  Balky, our bossy butler, came striding in. “A lady to see you, Madam,” he announced. His voice was unnaturally high and his usually placid face wore a stunned expression, causing me to wonder if perhaps Queen Charlotte had come to call, for it takes a good deal to surprise Balky.

  Mama was studying her horoscope and failed to notice anything amiss. Instead of speaking to Balky, she said to me, “There must be trouble at the Abbey. I hope Maddie has not taken a bad turn. I warned her at church on Sunday not to do her mending on a Monday, when she said she had torn the hem of her gown. Such bad luck, mending on a Monday.”

  Mama has a superstition on hand for every occasion. The most innocent occupations from picking flowers (white ones are taboo), to putting on one’s shoes (the left one must go on first) are fraught with peril. Papa made her decisions for her when he was alive. That duty has devolved on to me and a book of superstitions she found in the library and Signora Rossini, a local dame who casts horoscopes, reads palms and performs other feats of mental magic. I put myself first, but in fact I come last in all but the basic nuts and bolts such as paying the bills, keeping the account books and handling the correspondence.

  Lady Mary is the elder of the two maiden aunts at the Abbey. If either of them was ill, one would think it would be she, but somehow it did not occur to Mama, or me either, that illness would dare to attack that formidable dame.

  “Well, send her in, Balky. Don’t leave her cooling her heels like a bill collector,” Mama said. Balky was used to her sharp ways. He just turned and soon led the caller in. “Lady Lorna Prieur,” he announced, and stood waiting for us to gasp and stare at the dropping of this legendary name. He was not disappointed.

  “Good God!” Mama gasped, stared, and said in a die-away voice, “Can it really be you, Lorna, after all these years?”

  I did not gasp, but I also stared to see what this legend looked like. I had been hearing of the tragedy of Lady Lorna, older sister of Lord Acton from the Abbey, for as long as I could remember. A creator of tales for the penny dreadfuls would have blushed to pen such a plot. She had been stolen away by gypsies only days before her marriage to Lord Edward Manford and never been seen or heard of again. The reason Mama knew her and I did not was that I was one year old when she was carried off two decades ago, whereas Mama had been only a few years older than Lady Lorna, and her bosom bow.

  The legendary Lady Lorna had been described as a fiery-haired beauty with and a dowry unmatched in the county. No doubt the description became exaggerated over the years, but I understood she was slender, graceful, and sat her mount as if she had been born there. My first sensation was disappointment to see a far from sylph-like matron whose fiery tresses had dulled to tarnished copper. But then legends are enhanced with the passing of time, whereas mere mortals deteriorate.

  I do not mean our caller was plain, or a dowd. She carried herself proudly, with her chin up and her shoulders back. She had a certain elegance, even dressed for afternoon in a well-worn suit of peacock blue trimmed in black frogging. I recognized the outfit from a back issue of La Belle Assemblée a few seasons ago. Her high bonnet was the same colour with black feathers. As I watched she hurried forward to hug Mama. It was an awkward hug as Mama was too overcome to rise from her chair.

  Mama gasped a series of incoherent exclamations. “Where on earth — How did you — Oh is it really you, Lorna?”

  Lady Lorna was less emotional. “Indeed it is, Lucy. Back from the dead, practically,” she said in a low, musical voice. She sat down beside Mama and smiled sadly. Her eyes, fine green eyes, turned to me. “Now don’t tell me this is little Katie,” she said, studying me with more interest than I usually generate.

  “Indeed it is,” Mama said. I just smiled, as overcome as Mama. “But my dear Lorna,” Mama continued, “you must tell us all about it. Where on earth have you been all these years? I had given up ever seeing you again.”

  Lady Lorna removed her bonnet, set it aside and drew a deep sigh. “I hardly know where to begin. You know I was carried off by that band of gypsies Papa allowed to camp beyond the orchard.”

  “How well I remember it. If only I had known then what I know now!”

  Lady Lorna looked at her in surprise. “Whatever do you mean, Lucy?”

  “Why, to be sure, Shrimp was howling his head off that night, and that, you must know, always presages bad luck.” Lady Lorna looked confused. She may well have forgotten that Shrimp was Mama’s lapdog, but I felt that was not the only thing confusing her.

  “Mama takes an interest in superstitions,” I explained, and felt foolish.

  “It’s a new study I’ve undertaken since you went away,” Mama explained. “If only I had known at the time, we might have saved you. But do go on.”

  “You must tell me about these superstitions sometime,” Lady Lorna said, trying to sound interested. “Well, as I was saying, I slipped out unnoticed after dark that night. The family thought I was in bed. I daresay I wasn’t missed till morning. I was restless that night, you know, with that awful marriage to Lord Edward looming ahead of me. You of all people know how I dreaded having to marry Edward, but Papa — Well, they tell me Papa is dead now, so I’ll speak no ill of him.”

  “But so long, Lorna — twenty years! Could you not escape sooner?”

  “I didn’t even know where I was, Lucy! They kept me locked in a caravan and traveled through back country roads for what seemed like days, then loaded me, bound and gagged, on to a boat and across the Channel in the dead of night. I know we were in France for a while, for I heard French being spoken along the way. Then on to other European countries. I was let out of the caravan by then, but couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying. I did manage to run off a few times, but they always camped away from cities, miles from help, and when I did reach a farm house, I couldn’t make anyone understand me. I was always recaptured and taken back to the caravan. We kept on the move — sometimes the voices we passed sounded like German, but not quite, if you understand. Oh it was dreadful.” She shuddered in memory.

  I listened, enthralled. Here was real life. My life had not been hard or unpleasant, but it had undeniably been dull as dishwater. After Papa’s death four years ago Mama was so overcome I had no option but to take over the running of the place.

  At seventeen I had to relinquish a young lady’s usual pastimes and turn my hand to learning about the yield of our milchers, the necessity of various farm sales and purchases and such things. Our bailiff was my salvation, but the worst chore, the monthly balancing of the books, was my sole responsibility. I am not good with figures; Mama is impossible. The Chancellor of the Exchequer could not make sense of her bank book.

  My days left little time for romance and daydreaming, but at night I used to imagine a different life — exciting, romantic, just the sort of life Lady Lorna had actually experienced. How I envied this brave lady her adventures.

  “The brutes!” Mama said, and patted her hand. “Did they — “ She paused, eyebrows raised, to denote the crime too heinous to utter.

  “Ravage me? No, there was none of that, thank God,” Lorna said. “Killu had seen me riding about the estate and wanted to marry me. That is why they carried me off. He was the leader’s eldest son.”

  “Was h
e handsome?” I blurted out in a momentary lapse, without thinking how inappropriate the question was. To me it all seemed like the lower and livelier sort of fiction.

  Lady Lorna looked at me and smiled her forgiveness. I sensed, in that smile, that I had met a fellow spirit. “He was, actually. Hair black as jet, flashing eyes and a wicked smile. But I held him off with threats of terrible reprisals when Papa caught him, and other ruses and finally induced him to marry Merelda, the prettiest of the gypsy girls. Rather in your style, Katie, but without any education or refinement. Actually ate with her fingers. The only use she had for a knife was to skin a rabbit, or stab someone. But as I was saying, Killu still cared for me and guarded me jealously from the others.”

  Mama and I both listened, rapt. “How did you escape?” Mama asked.

  “Oh I managed to escape the gypsies after a year or two — one lost track of time. I just took to my heels one night when the men were all drunk. I ran till I dropped and met a kindly farmer who needed another hand about the place. I worked there till the harvest season was over to save a bit of money, but it was stolen by one of the other itinerant workers. Then the war came along, you know, and returning to England was impossible.

  “I hadn’t a penny to my name. I lived literally hand to mouth — stealing food from farmer’s fields and so on. I had picked up a few tricks from the gypsies. Finally I met up with a band of smugglers back in France and gave them my pearls — the pearls Papa gave me — to bring me to England. It was fate that I was wearing them the night the gypsies snatched me. I managed to convince Killu they were valueless, just paste. Then I had the engagement ring Edward had given me. I managed to hide that from them. I sold it to buy some second hand clothes and take the stage here once we reached England.” She took another deep sigh and said in a weak voice, “I wonder if I might have a glass of wine, Lucy.”

  “Certainly. Kate — “

  I poured glasses for the three of us. Lady Lorna looked at me and said, “You remind me of your Mama when we were friends years ago, Katie. So long ago ...”

  She gave a sad, wistful smile and shook her head, as if trying to shake away the past. In a portrait of Mama done at the time of her wedding she was pretty. Actually I favour Papa. Mama is blond with a round face and blue eyes. I have Papa’s dark hair, dark eyes and firm chin. I am also tall and slender. Mama is short and now, in her older years, inclined to plumpness. I expect Lady Lorna really just meant that I was young.

  “Though time has been kind to you, Lucy,” she added, turning to Mama. “Kinder than to me — the way I have had to live. I look like a hag. I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me.”

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” Mama said, to be kind I assume.

  “That’s not what they think at the Abbey. They pretend not to know me.”

  “What! You cannot mean they refused to recognize you!”

  “They turned me from the door,” she declared, in an expression caught between disbelief and sorrow, but edged with anger. “My own family.”

  “I can’t believe it!” Mama said.

  “It’s true. I had waited so long and struggled so hard to get home. And to hear on top of that that Papa was dead! It was cruel of them. Downright merciless.”

  My eyes, like Lorna’s, were glazed in unshed tears.

  “But that is dreadful!” Mama cried. “Whatever will you do?”

  “I’ll just have to prove to them that I am me. After all William — the aunts call him Acton now that Papa is dead — was only ten years old when I was taken away, and of course I have changed. It’s possible he truly didn’t recognize me, but Aunt Mary — and Maddie wouldn’t dare say a word against her. I was stunned that they didn’t know me. After all my years of struggle to come home to this! It was a nightmare.”

  “But my dear, whatever will you do?” Mama repeated. “Where will you stay?”

  It wasn’t my place to answer, but the words came out unbidden. “You must stay here, Lady Lorna.” I couldn’t bear to lose this exciting lady. It almost seemed Fate had sent her to heat up my dull life.

  “Do you think Charles would mind awfully if I stayed with you for a few days?” she asked Mama. “I am just too fagged and hungry to go on to London tonight. And where would I go when I got there? Aunt Mary will notify the staff in our London house not to let me in. Truth to tell, my pockets are entirely to let. Getting these clothes and getting here took every penny I had. I couldn’t arrive home in rags and tatters.”

  “Ah, an empty purse is always bad luck,” Mama said. “You should always carry a penny to keep the devil away. Kate, tell Balky to get Lorna some food. Of course you must stay here. As to Charles minding, I am afraid I lost dear Charles four years ago.”

  “Ah, I am sorry to hear it,” she said, and gave Mama a hug. “I half feared Papa might have passed away, but Charles! He was still young. Was it a riding accident?”

  “He was some years older than I. It was his heart.”

  I darted to the doorway, where I am sure Balky had been eavesdropping, and who shall blame him?

  “Is she staying, Miss Simmons? The reason I ask, I’ll have to have a room prepared.”

  “Of course she is staying.” I gave him the order for food, then dashed back. I didn’t want to miss a word of Lady Lorna’s tale. I was shocked that Lord Acton had treated her so shabbily. He can be arrogant and toplofty to be sure, but I have never known him to be cruel, especially to ladies. Most especially to ladies in distress.

  “I’ll be happy to give you whatever money you need, Lorna,” Mama said. “Charles left me well provided for.”

  “Oh you are a life-saver, Lucy. I knew you would not fail me.” She dabbed at her eyes and took another sip of wine. “Naturally I shall repay you when I recover my inheritance from William. My dowry was thirty thousand pounds, you know. If it was wisely invested, it should be worth forty or fifty by now.”

  “That is a great deal of money,” Mama said. She frowned and added, rather tentatively, “You don’t suppose ...” Again the eyebrows carried the burden of the thought.

  “I dislike to think it, but I did wonder if William just didn’t want to give me my money. He didn’t used to be like that, but Lady Mary was always a skint, and if he takes after Papa, that might be it.”

  I sat silent as a mouse to ensure remaining in the room. Though I am one and twenty and responsible for the estate, Mama has the foolish notion that I am too young and innocent to hear anything interesting. They discussed the money — whether Acton had squandered it — until Balky arrived with the tray.

  Lady Lorna had either not eaten for days, which could well be the case — or she was an excellent trencherman. Her figure was good, but on the fleshy side. What Papa used to call ‘Rubenesque.’ What an indomitable spirit the lady had, to manage to keep herself fed during her long ordeal.

  After she had eaten, she began to sigh and yawn until it occurred to Mama that she wanted to go to bed. She retrieved a bandbox from the hall and Mama accompanied her up to her bedroom, while I remained below, plotting how I could help redress this injustice, help Lady Lorna recover her title and money. The two old friends remained locked up together talking until past midnight.

  Sleep was long in coming that night. When my eyelids fluttered closed, I dreamed of Killu, the dashing, dark-eyed gypsy. A satisfactory conclusion to the story required that she marry Killu, who was revealed in the last chapter as a duke in disguise.

  But even in my dream, that didn’t happen. He just faded away and left me — in the dream I became Lady Lorna — bundled up in the back of the caravan. When I awoke I was smothering under my blanket. Before the last remnants of my dream faded into oblivion, I recalled where it came from, and took the firm resolution to find out why Acton had behaved so badly to his sister, and to change his mind.

  Chapter Two

  I daresay Mama and Lady Lorna talked into the late hours, for they neither of them came downstairs until nearly ten o’clock the next morning. I was up at my
usual half past seven, dressed in my best green riding habit for the call on Lord Acton. He had complimented me on the habit the week before, but that is not why I chose it. One does not call at the Abbey in her second best anything. Seven-thirty was too early to call and give him a piece of my mind so I struggled with the accounts until nine o’clock, when I asked Balky to have my mount sent around and went to put on my bonnet.

  The ride to Lewes Abbey would be pleasant in May with the sun shining and the wildflowers in the meadows in bloom. I planned to take the short cut and be there before Acton left for London. He had mentioned going to London this week. He always went there for at least part of the Season every year to “look over this year’s crop”, he said, as if the debs were cabbages.

  I had my bonnet in my hand when the door knocker sounded. As I was by the door I answered it rather than waiting for Balky. Mama disapproved of this practise, but in fact Balky was not yet in his little butler’s room by the door. No doubt he was in the kitchen regaling the servants with the tale of Lady Lorna’s return.

  When I opened the door Acton stepped in, smiling, and said, “Good morning, Kate. I am happy to see you have finally turned off that ill-visaged Balky. You are a much prettier butler, but not so capable. You should be reaching for my hat by now. Prepare yourself to be astonished, Kate. I bring tidings of great interest. Now don’t scowl, I have not come to announce my engagement. You’ll never guess what happened last night.”

  I resented his usual jaunty manner and the hint that I would be unhappy to hear he had chosen his bride. In fact, I resented everything about him that morning — his well-barbered hair, the elegant blue jacket clinging to his broad shoulders, the handsome waistcoat and stylish buckskins, and most especially the unconscious air of superiority. I even resented that he was tall and handsome. He had it all, and didn’t mean to part with one bit of it. He spoke as if the disgraceful way Lady Lorna had been treated was of no more importance than one of his mares having twins or a lamb born with five legs.