Lady Lorna Read online

  “I could tell them about the little ring,” I said.

  “Yes, tell them,” she said. “In fact, show it to them.” She drew it from her pocket and handed it to me. “And don’t let them get it away from you. It is my good luck charm.”

  Mama had already aired the opinion that it was the pearl necklace Lorna was wearing the night she was captured that had led to her misfortune and had hinted a few times that the pearl ring was also an agent of evil. Despite her demurs I had every intention of taking it with me. I wrote a reply to the invitation and sent it back with the footman. Until the time for departure, we three sat discussing strategies without much success. Lorna told us more of her hair-raising adventure in Europe. I half envied her such daring exploits.

  Hiding in barns from invading troops of soldiers, stealing a pistol from one of them to shoot a rabbit when she was starving and cooking it over an open fire. At the time she was traveling with some unfortunate family that had been forced out of their home during the war.

  “Lorna was always an excellent shot,” Mama said proudly. “Taylor taught her.” Taylor is Acton’s half-brother, the offspring of an illicit affair before his papa was married. He’s a decade older than Acton. He is not treated quite like a servant, though certainly not like a noble son.

  “Is Taylor still at the Abbey?” Lorna asked.

  “Indeed he is,” I said. “Would he not recognize you, Lorna?”

  “Not if Acton told him not to, and you may be sure he has,” was her reply.

  I urged Lorna to continue telling us about her adventures. She spent one winter as an upstairs maid in Austria, until the master of the house began pestering her with unwanted advances. At some point during the war with France she minded three French children for some family in the countryside. She had hoped to improve her French, but it seemed they spoke an unrecognizable patois and she ended up teaching them English instead.

  As I hadn’t changed out of my riding habit, I rode over to Lewes Abbey. The countryside here in Essex is lovely. Our little spinney, rich in oak trees, gave our house its name of Oak Hill. It isn’t really on a hill, but just a slight rise. Essex is an undulating landscape with few real hills. The rich alluvial soil and mild climate are excellent for crops, whereas the cattle do well on the chalk highlands. We have cattle as well.

  Once out of the spinney the stone walls and turrets of the Abbey towered above in the distance. Stone buildings are relatively scarce here. The modest houses are usually of wood, and the finer houses like Oak Hill of brick. I stabled my mount, Jezebel, and went around to the front door. Sunlight gilded the stone walls and turned the windows to glimmering gold, till it looked like a fairy castle.

  Acton has a proper butler, Wilson, who bowed me in and told me the ladies were expecting me in the rose parlour. The Abbey had many stately chambers. The cosy little parlour given over to the ladies’ private use is not one of them. It was chosen by Lady Mary as it, unlike the grander rooms, is warm and free of drafts in the winter. The quantity of personal items scattered about told me they practically live there. Books and journals and magazines litter the table by Lady Mary’s chair.

  Maddie’s table holds sewing, knitting, embroidery work, pills she takes to settle her stomach and usually a marble-covered novel from the Minerva press. It was Maddie who introduced Sukey and me to the gothic novels of Anne Radcliffe when I was fifteen. I still read them from time to time, when life gets too dull. I didn’t think I would have to resort to them for some time, with Lady Lorna in the house.

  Acton was sitting with his aunts. He rose when I entered, a courtesy not always shown to me as my friendship with Sukey meant I had been running quite tame there since I was a child. The tea tray laden with a heavy silver tea service and a plate of bread and butter sat on a table drawn up in front of Lady Mary. The scant edibles told me Mary had put Maddie on a diet again. Naturally I did not merit a cake.

  Ladies Mary and Maddie resemble each other in general size and colouring. Both tall, though Maddie has stooped shoulders now and holds her head forward, making her look shorter. Lady Mary holds her head and shoulders back like a soldier. Both were once lean but now Maddie is fuller figured. Both have dark eyes and dark hair silvered to gray. Lady Mary, unlike Maddie, wears spectacles for reading.

  Despite the physical characteristics they are as different as day and night. Lady Mary, with two years advantage in age, pretty well rules the roost. Her dominant position has lent a proud, arrogant cast to her face and a didactic air to her speech, rather like Acton when he is angry. Lady Maddie wears more the air of a servant. Modest, soft-spoken, unsure of herself, always smiling and eager to oblige. She has been like that for as long as I have known them. At some point in their past Lady Mary got the upper hand over her and poor Maddie lacks the gumption to stand up for herself.

  “Sit down, Kate,” Lady Mary said, as soon as we had all exchanged greetings. I sat in the empty chair with the three of them facing me, and felt as if I were on trial. “We have asked you here to discuss this woman claiming to be our niece. We don’t want you and your mama encouraging her in this folly. She is not Lorna, and you will look no-how when the truth comes out. It is not worth your while to come to cuffs with the Abbey over the creature. I want you to tell Lucy so.”

  I had a hard time controlling my temper at her manner. “Why didn’t you invite her here to tell her yourself?” I asked.

  “Lucy Simmons is a fool,” she replied. “You, on the other hand, usually show some semblance of common sense. We expect you to convince her of her folly. No one knows Lorna better than her own family, and we all agree the woman who called here is not our Lorna.”

  “What has convinced you?” I asked. “You hardly spoke to her. You haven’t seen her for twenty years. Naturally she has changed.”

  “Twenty years wouldn’t make her taller!” Lady Mary spat out angrily. “Lorna was exactly my height. That woman is two inches taller. I stood beside her and had to look up at her.”

  Maddie made a soft noise in her throat. When Mary turned a sharp glance on her, she was emboldened to say, “The tea, Mary. Should I pour the tea before it grows cold?”

  “Of course. You should have poured it sooner.” As the tea tray was in front of Lady Mary she had obviously intended to do the pouring herself. Maddie had to get up to pour and pass it around, leaving Lady Mary free to continue the argument.

  “Ladies shrink when they get old — older,” I said, knowing it was a pert thing to say, though true.

  “I’m not that old, Miss!” she snapped. “And I was never one to hunch my shoulders like Maddie. I stand as tall as I ever did. Furthermore, the teeth are nothing like Lorna’s. Lorna had very nice straight, white teeth. That woman’s are bigger and crooked, to say nothing of being yellow.”

  They were not at all yellow, and only slightly out of line. I would not call them crooked. “She has been living under very poor conditions, Lady Mary. It has been hard on her appearance. She has probably lost a tooth at the back, which might throw the others a little out of line.”

  “Rubbish! I have had half my molars drawn and my front teeth are still straight. How did she convince Lucy she is Lorna?”

  “Mama recognized her immediately. They have been talking together ever since Lady Lorna arrived. Nothing has been said to lead Mama to believe she is not who she says she is. Quite the contrary. They share many memories.”

  “She is picking Lucy’s brains to discover intimate details, in other words.”

  “She has this ring her mama gave her, the little pearl ring with an inscription inside,” I said, drawing it from my pocket. Lady Mary and Acton exchanged a sharp look at this. I handed it to Lady Mary, who snatched it up eagerly and examined it. “It seems it was from some old beau and Lady Acton’s husband didn’t like her wearing it,” I explained.

  Lady Mary picked up a magnifying glass she kept by her books and peered at the ring, inside and out, then passed it along to Acton, along with the magnifying glass. “It is
your Mama’s ring, all right. Now where the deuce did she get her hands on that!” she said.

  “Was it left behind when Lorna left home that night?” Acton asked, frowning.

  “I don’t remember Lorna ever wearing the ring,” Maddie said, peering to get a look at it, as it was not passed along to her for examination.

  “She wore it on a chain around her neck,” I said.

  Maddie nodded. Lady Mary glared her to silence and said, ‘“Nothing of the sort. I shouldn’t be surprised if she hawked it in Colchester and the impostor managed to get hold of it. The woman is up to anything.” She turned to me. “What else does she have to bolster her spurious claim?”

  “See her, Lady Mary. Talk to her. I’m sure she can convince you, as she convinced Mama and me.”

  “You?” she said, as though I were a worm. “You have nothing to say about it. You didn’t know her at all. You were only a babe in arms.”

  “Well, Mama certainly knew her, and she is convinced.”

  “Rubbish. Your mama wants to get back the exciting, glamorous life she led as Lorna’s friend. A mere baronet’s wife did not enjoy the sort of privileges Lorna did. Lorna took her to all sorts of places she would never have been invited on her own. She opened up new worlds to Lucy. Sir Charles was a sensible fellow. He would never have let Lucy behave so if he had not wanted to get a toe into high society himself. Now don’t bother pulling your ears back like an angry mare. It’s true. Now that Lucy’s lost Sir Charles she is bored to flinders and is grasping at this last chance for some decent society.”

  It was true that Papa, in common with most folks, was fond of a title. “Naturally my father wanted to better himself. Who doesn’t? Mama leads an active social life, Lady Mary. I don’t believe you would call her friend Squire Beamer indecent.” Beamer is a large landowner, one of the worthies of the community. He takes Mama for drives and spends many evenings with us, often playing cards. I believe that if I ever marry, Mama would have him.

  “Pooh! Church socials and card parties. She was used to fly higher when she was Lorna’s friend. Mixed with the best society, noble house parties, balls. You may tell your Mama this, Kate, that woman can open no doors for her. Quite the contrary. She’ll lose whatever friends she has. That woman will never be accepted by us, and that means society will not recognize her.”

  With fingers trembling in anger, I put down my nearly full cup. “I shall deliver your message, Lady Mary. I don’t believe we have any more to discuss. Thank you for the tea, and good day.”

  I turned to Acton, who had sat with his ears flapping, saying virtually nothing. “Would you mind returning Lady Lorna’s ring? It means a good deal to her, as it was given her by her mama.”

  I thought for a moment he was going to refuse, but in the end he handed it over, most reluctantly.

  I heard Lady Mary say, as I left, “A saucy minx if there ever was one. And coming to tea in that smelly riding habit. Rag mannered. Now about that little pearl ring, Acton ...”

  I did not linger to hear Acton’s reply. Wilson was already at the door, waiting to show me out. “Lady Lorna remembered you, Wilson,” I said.

  “Indeed? I did not recognize her, Miss Simmons.” Then he closed the door behind me, not quite slamming it.

  Chapter Four

  Mama and Lorna were eagerly awaiting my return. “Well, what did they say?” Mama asked, the instant I came through the door.

  I repeated the conversation word for word as well as I could remember it, then I returned Lorna’s ring to her. “They had to admit it was their mama’s ring when they read the inscription.”

  “And how the deuce did they think I got it if Mama did not give it to me?” Lorna asked with an angry tsk.

  “They said Lorna never wore it, and perhaps she had pawned it in Colchester.”

  “Pooh! They have an excuse for everything. If it had been pawned it would have been done twenty years ago. How did they think I got it, living off in Europe?”

  “They must think you weren’t in Europe.”

  “The ring would not have sat in the shop all these years. Surely they cannot believe I bought it twenty years ago and have waited all this time to carry out some wicked impersonation.”

  “I don’t know what they think, Lorna. I’m just telling you what they said.”

  “You did your best, Katie, and I thank you for it,” Lorna said. “I know they are formidable. You see what I am up against.”

  After an hour’s discussion of the visit and futile plans to prove Lorna’s identity and a few animadversions on the pearl ring by Mama, I said, “Lady Lorna must be tired of sitting about the house all day, Mama. Why do not she and I go riding?”

  Mama no longer enjoys riding. She once took a tumble while enceinte, losing what would have been a much-wanted son for her and Papa and a brother for me. Other than that she was not badly hurt, but she hasn’t enjoyed riding since. When her mount died of old age, she did not replace it. Squire Beamer, a keen rider, encourages her to ride and gave her a sweet-tempered bay mare called Lady. I coax Mama out for a very dull ride occasionally when the weather is fine.

  “Where would I get a mount?” Lady Lorna asked.

  “Mama has one. Not the spirited sort of mount you were accustomed to, I daresay.”

  “It sounds lovely, Katie, but I don’t have a riding habit and don’t want to ruin my one decent suit.” In fact, she had very few outfits at all. Just the suit she arrived in and one bordeau coloured gown for evening, another second hand gown bought for her homecoming. I enjoy riding and had three habits. I would gladly have lent her one, but it wouldn’t begin to fit her. “You can wear mine,” Mama said at once.

  Lorna hesitated, and I could see why. Mama is three or four inches shorter and a few inches broader than Lorna. “I don’t know if I could remember how to ride,” she said. “I haven’t ridden anything but mules for years. No, I don’t believe I will, Katie. Thank you all the same. But you go ahead. Lucy and I will chat. Soon, though — tomorrow perhaps, I would appreciate a drive into town. I need things, you know. Some light weight material for a summer gown, and stockings and so on.”

  “We can do that now, if you like,” I said at once. “I don’t have to go riding.”

  Mama agreed to this outing. We were about to order the carriage when Squire Beamer arrived. He is not at all handsome or dashing, just a nice, middle-aged bachelor with snuff coloured hair going thin on top, red cheeks and a ready smile. Quite a typical English squire — sensible, bluff, hardy, a little stout, a little loud spoken and very good humoured. Mama calls him Bernie.

  It was clear immediately that he had heard of our visitor and come to see her for himself. His first warm smile is always for Mama, then a smile and greeting for me. His eyes turned first to Lorna that day, and lingered an unseemly length of time. I don’t mean he was struck by her beauty, though she was attractive. It was not that sort of look. More — assessing, as if she were a mare he was thinking of buying.

  But he bowed and said politely, “Lady Lorna, nice to see you again.” She smiled and said “Good day, Mr. Beamer.”

  “Oh, you recognize her!” I cried. “Then you can tell Acton she is indeed Lady Lorna. They refuse to believe it at the Abbey.”

  Beamer, usually so pleasant and obliging, obviously didn’t want anything to do with this. “Why, truth to tell I did not recognize her. I had heard in town she was back. You must know I hardly knew Lady Lorna in the old days. We met a few times here and there. I daresay she wouldn’t have recognized me either if we’d met on the street.”

  “I believe I would,” Lorna said, her smile indicating he was not the sort of gentleman a lady forgot in a hurry, “How do things go on at Ardleigh Hall? Are you still breeding those excellent Ayreshires?”

  That brought a smile to his face. “Indeed I am! Lucy must bring you to tea one day soon.”

  “I should like it of all things. That is the very civilized sort of thing I have been missing.”

  This led to
questions about where she had been, and as I had heard it before and as it was such a beautiful day, I excused myself and went for my ride. If I am riding into town I have the accompaniment of a groom, but for just riding about our own estate, I go alone. I hardly noticed the beauty of the meadow sprinkled with wild flowers, and the willows drooping over the stream as I rode on. My whole mind was preoccupied with Lady Lorna and the Actons’ adamant refusal to recognize her. I was sorry Beamer could not remember her. I would take her into town tomorrow. Perhaps we’d meet some old friends there who could help her cause.

  The difficulty was that even if folks did recognize her, they would be reluctant to set themselves up against the Actons. And the same applied to the old servants at the Abbey. Even if they knew perfectly well she was indeed Lady Lorna, they would not displease their master by contradicting him. Another thing to be looked into was Acton’s financial position. If he was deep in dun territory ... and how the deuce could we find that out? Neither his banker nor his man of business would reveal such details.

  There had to be someone other than Mama who could help us. Where did Lorna go to school, for instance? Who made up her gowns? Did she have any birthmarks, a mole or strawberry mark or a scar from some accident? She was said to be a bruising rider, but as she hadn’t ridden in two decades she would have lost that skill. Was she a good pianist, singer? Did she have any special talents she could display? Or would such accomplishments, like the riding, have been lost over the years?

  My rumbling stomach reminded me it was time to head home. Squire Beamer’s carriage was just being brought around when I arrived. He doffed his hat and asked me if I had enjoyed my ride. When I had assured him I had, he said, rather tentatively, “What do you think of your mama’s house guest, Kate? Do you think she’s the goods?”

  “Of course I do, Squire. Mama is certain of it.”

  “The Actons ain’t, I hear?”