Blackthorne

“Left?”

The woman frowned. “Went off to sea, leaving his grandfather to deal with the tragedy alone. No one had seen or heard from Lord Stamford again until his grandfather died and he returned to claim his inheritance. Not that we cared. Blackthorne was better off without the likes of him.”

Olivia was surprised at the servant’s venomous tone. “I would think, if you value your position here, you would be more careful of the things you say about Lord Stamford.”

“My position.” The servant gave a harsh laugh. “I came to Blackthorne with Lady Stamford, as her ladyship’s maid. After her death I was treated like a common servant, and sent to the scullery, to exist on little more than bread crusts and gruel.”

In such sumptuous surroundings, Olivia thought that highly unlikely. “And now?” she asked. “It would seem your position has improved.”

The servant gave a snort of disgust. “Now that Lord Stamford has returned, I know not what my duties are. Nor does anyone in this household. We await his lordship’s bidding. At all hours of the day and night ’twould seem.”

The anger in this woman made Olivia extremely uncomfortable. She had heard much more than she wanted.

She abruptly changed the subject. “What sort of child is Liat?”

Edlyn shrugged. “Scared of his shadow, he is. Keeps to himself. Never laughs or cries. Or shouts or runs. Just hides away in his room.” She lowered her voice. “Probably touched in the head.” Satisfied that she’d relayed enough gossip for one night, she yawned loudly. “Will you be wanting anything else?”

“Nothing, Edlyn. Good night.”

When the servant was gone, Olivia lifted the lid of a tureen and inhaled the fragrance of beef broth. Beneath a domed cover she found thin strips of beef swimming in gravy. In a silver basket were several thick slices of bread.

She sipped the soup, tasted the tender beef, bit into the crusty bread. But the troubling things she’d been told about Blackthorne and its inhabitants had stolen her appetite.

Feeling restless, she crossed to her valise, hoping to unpack. Strange, she thought as her clothes spilled onto the bed, that they seemed to be in disarray. Could that rustling sound that awakened her have been the servant, rummaging through her things? At once she dismissed such thoughts. A servant would realize that a simple governess had nothing of value. These fears were the result of Edlyn’s tales of dark deeds. Such talk had her imagination running wild.

Sinking into a chair, she pressed her hands to her cheeks and thought about all that she had seen and heard. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut to blot out the fears that seemed to be closing in on her. She would rest for a moment, before pulling herself together for the task ahead.

It was her last coherent thought as she gave in once more to the need to sleep.

The sound that awakened Olivia was unlike anything she had ever heard. A long piercing scream that chilled her blood and had her leaping to her feet in alarm. Surely this sound was not made by a human. A wild animal perhaps. Caught in a trap and about to give up its life

But it was coming from inside the house. Somewhere along these very halls. That realization had the hairs at her nape prickling.

Olivia raced across the room and tore open the door. The sound was louder now, a long thin wail that went on and on until she was forced to cover her ears.

Without giving thought to what she was doing, she scurried along the hall until she came to the door of the man she had seen huddled in a chair.

The door was open, and Olivia could see Lord Stamford and a woman, her nightclothes in disarray, standing on either side of a bed. At the foot of the bed was a young, red-haired servant.

Lord Stamford bent down and gathered the blanketed figure of his brother in his arms while the woman held a cup to his lips.

“Do as Mistress Thornton bids you, Bennett.” The voice coming from Lord Stamford’s mouth was unlike the one Olivia had heard earlier. Gone was the haughty tone of arrogance. Now the words were soft, soothing, as a mother might croon to her infant.

The wailing abruptly ceased. The cup was drained. And then there was only a childlike sobbing that went on for several more minutes before silence prevailed.

“He will sleep now, m’lord,” the woman said.

“Thank you, Mistress Thornton.” Quenton looked to the foot of the bed. “And thank you, Minerva. I’m grateful that you got to him so quickly.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.” The young servant smoothed the covers. “Have no fear. I’ll stay with him now and see that he sleeps.”

As Quenton turned away, he caught sight of Olivia standing in the open doorway. Without a word he crossed the space between them and swept her roughly into the hallway, pulling the door shut after him.

“Forgive me, Lord Stamford. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“But that is exactly what you were doing.”

“I... heard the scream and had to investigate. I didn’t know what I was hearing. I thought...” She bit her lip, unwilling to finish what she’d been about to say.

“It does take some time to get used to, Miss St. John.” With his hand beneath her elbow he steered her along the hall toward her room. He seemed in a great hurry to be done with her. “My brother is very ill. He is haunted by old memories. Memories that manifest themselves in the night and cause him great anguish.”

“Can nothing be done for him?”

Quenton shook his head. “The physicians who have examined him have assured me that they know of nothing that can help him.”

She paused outside her doorway and for the first time looked up into his dark eyes. There was such pain there. Such misery. It touched her heart. “I’m sorry, Lord Stamford.”

She could see the flicker of annoyance. It was obvious that he didn’t want her pity.

He started to turn away, then thought better of it and turned back to her. “The next time you hear my brother’s cries, Miss St. John, I advise you to remain in your room.” He gave a curt nod of his head. “I bid you good-night.”

She watched as he made his way down the hall. Then she entered her room and closed the door, leaning wearily against it.

“Well,” she whispered. “Welcome to Blackthorne, my girl.”

Chapter Four

Scant hours later Olivia was up and preparing for her first day as nursemaid. Dressed in her simple gray gown, she had just finished tying back her hair into a neat knot at her nape when there was a knock on her door.

“Come.”

Edlyn entered carrying a tray. If anything, her frown was even more pronounced. “Mistress Thornton said I was to bring you tea and biscuits.”

“Thank you, Edlyn. That was kind of Mistress Thornton. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the tray with me and have my breakfast with Liat.”

The servant turned away with a scowl. “I’ll fetch it there myself or Mistress Thornton will have my head.”

“There’s no need.” Olivia wanted to be alone when she met the lad for the first time. She wanted no distractions that might cause him to put up his guard. “I won’t say anything to the housekeeper. I’m sure you have more than enough chores to see to.”

“Aye. Especially when Mistress Thornton is in one of her moods.” The woman rolled her eyes. “You’ve never been insulted until you’ve had your ears blistered by the old biddy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Olivia waited until the servant had left before carrying the tray through the door to the boy’s chambers. The connecting sitting room was much like hers, with a cheery fire blazing on the hearth, and several comfortable chairs and a chaise. There was a small table as well, which Olivia decided would make an excellent writing table for her young charge.

She knocked on his bedroom door, then opened it.

“Hello, Liat. My name is Olivia St. John.” She paused in the doorway and watched as the little boy turned. He was perched on a trunk which he’d dragged over to an alcove. His feet were bare, and he was wearing short pants and a shirt made of some sort of colorful fabric. She made a mental note that the boy needed warmer clothing for the brisk English weather. “What are you looking at?”

The boy shrugged and held his silence.

Olivia crossed the room and paused beside him. “Ah. I see. The gardens. You have a very good view from here. My, they look very small when viewed from so high.” She smiled at him. “Would you like to walk in the gardens?”

He shrank back.

“You mean you wouldn’t like to go outside? Why, I should think a boy like you would enjoy running between the hedges, and chasing butterflies.”

At that he perked up. “Butterflies?”

Ah, so she had managed to snag his attention. “You didn’t think there were any butterflies in England?”

He shook his head.

She gave him a friendly smile. “Well, there are. And deer and rabbits and squirrels. Wouldn’t you like to see them?”

He nodded.

“Good. Then we’ll stroll the garden as soon as we’ve broken our fast.”

He shook his head again. “I’m afraid.” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“Afraid of what?”

“Of the monsters.”

“What monsters?”

“The ones—” he glanced around fearfully “—that sweep in without warning and blot out the sun.”

Puzzled, Olivia was about to ask more questions when he suddenly pointed. “Here comes one now.”

She turned her gaze to the window and watched as a bank of stormclouds covered the sun, shrouding the land in darkness. “It’s just a little rainstorm, Liat. Surely you saw such storms before you came to England.”

He vehemently shook his head. “On my island the sun was always shining. And it was always warm.” He shivered. “There are monsters here that snatch away the sun and warmth. Just the way they snatched away my mama.”

Olivia’s heart went out to the frightened little boy. If there was one thing she understood, it was the confusion that came from having loved ones snatched without warning. “Come with me, Liat. Don’t be afraid,” she urged when he hesitated.

Taking his hand she helped him down from the trunk and led him across the room to where a fire burned on the hearth. She motioned for him to sit on the rug, then settled herself beside him, drawing up her knees. Filling two cups with tea and milk, she handed him one and sipped the other.

“I recently lost my father and mother, too.”

“Did a monster come and snatch them?”

“No. They died. Now they’re with the angels.”

“Where?”

“In heaven.”

“Do they like it there?”

She nodded. “Very much. They’re happy in their new home.”

“Do you think my mama is there with them?”

“I know she is. And though you can’t see her, she’s still looking out for you. Just as my parents are looking out for me.”

“If she’s looking out for me, why did she allow me to be taken away from my island and brought to this place?”

Olivia watched the way his lower lip quivered. How she longed to take this poor child into her arms and kiss away his fears. But, she reminded herself, she was his governess, not his mother or doting aunt. Her job was to help him cope with the situation. And perhaps toughen him up in the bargain.

“We don’t know why things happen, Liat But we must trust that all things happen for a reason.”

He seemed to digest that for a long moment before looking up at her. “Have you always lived here at Blackthorne?”

She shook her head. “Like you, my home is far from here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here to be your teacher and your nurse, and, if you’ll let me, your friend.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’ve only just arrived. But I’m going to do my best. to like it here.”

As soon as she had spoken, she felt a strange sort of comfort. Odd, she’d meant only to soothe his fears. But her own burden seemed suddenly lighter. It was true. She did intend to do her best to make her stay here, and that of the lad, as pleasurable as possible.

“Here.” She broke apart a biscuit and spooned fruit conserve over it before handing half to him.

He nibbled, gave her a faint smile of approval, then finished the rest.

“You see?” She sipped her tea and returned the smile. “Papa used to say that talking out your fears was an important first step. Then you must face them if you are to conquer them.” She brushed her fingers across his cheek and gave him an encouraging smile. “We will face our fears together, Liat, until there are no fears left.”

Quenton Stamford stood perfectly still, cautioning the hound at his heel to do the same. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. In fact, he’d only come to handle the introductions between the boy and his new governess. But now, watching and listening, he wondered about the fates that had sent this young woman to Blackthorne. Upon his first view of her, he’d thought that she might prove to be too young and inexperienced for the job. Too fragile. And too filled with her own arrogance and uneasiness to be of any help to a lost, frightened child. Now he was beginning to hope she might be just what the boy needed.

It weighed heavily on his mind that the lad was so out of his element in England. But there had been few choices left. With the death of his grandfather, Quenton had been forced to return to Blackthorne in haste. Still, he had made the boy’s mother a promise on her deathbed to protect Liat from harm. The only way to keep his promise was to bring the boy here.

He watched and listened a moment longer as Olivia’s voice washed over him.

“Liat, my mother used to quote from the Great Book, ‘To all things there is a season. A time for planting, a time for reaping. A time for laughing, a time for weeping. A time for living, a time for dying.’ This, then, is your time to grow, to learn and to let go of your fears. And I shall do the same.”

Quenton nodded. Very well. He would let her remain. For now.

He turned and left as quietly as he had arrived. The hound moved soundlessly at his side.

If only the solutions to all his problems could be as simple as this had proved to be. Now he could turn his attention to those damnable ledgers, and the mess his grandfather had left behind.

“Come, Liat.” Olivia opened the door of his chambers and beckoned him to follow. “It’s time for us to explore Blackthorne.”

As they made their way along the hall he whispered, “The servants told me I must never go in there.” He pointed to Bennett’s room.

“Why?”

He shuddered. “Edlyn said there’s a monster living in there.”

More monsters. Olivia was determined that such nonsense must stop at once. “He isn’t a monster. He is a young man. Come. I’ll show you.” Without waiting to think about what she was doing, she knocked, then opened the door.

Inside, the pale young man looked up, startled, from his chair by the window. The servant, Minerva, looked equally startled.

“What are you doing, miss?”

“My name is Olivia St. John. And this is Liat. I thought...” She wondered what she could possibly say to excuse her impulsive behavior. “I thought we might sup with you this evening.”

“Master Bennett always sups alone, miss.”

“And so do we,” she said with a smile that included the silent young man. “If we were to take our meal together, it would give Liat a chance to get to know you. And you to know us.”

“I don’t think...” Before the young servant could refuse, she caught sight of Bennett’s eyes, wide and pleading. “Well...” She considered, wondering how the housekeeper would react when she heard about this. Still, Master Bennett looked almost eager. She relented. “Aye. I’ll have Edlyn bring your trays. We eat at dusk.”

Olivia nodded, then turned to smile at Bennett. “Until dusk, then.”

She caught Liat’s hand and led him from the room. He didn’t volunteer a word until they reached the kitchen. Then, in a hushed voice, he said, “That was my first monster, ma’am.”

Olivia bit back her smile. “Aye. And mine as well.”

“Who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?”

At the booming voice they both turned to face a woman who was at least as tall as Pembroke, with hands big enough to handle with ease a side of beef or a whole roasted pig. These hands were now planted at either side of enormous hips encased in a shapeless gown.

“My name is Olivia St. John.”

“The new governess.”

“Aye. And this is Liat.”

“My name’s Molly. Molly Malloy. But I’m known as Cook.”

“Hello, Cook.” Olivia grasped her hand. “We’ve just come from a walk around Blackthorne and hoped we could warm ourselves with a cup of tea.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Sit.” Cook indicated a scarred wooden table.

Within minutes there were steaming cups of tea in front of them, along with tarts still warm from the oven.

“You do know the way to Liat’s heart,” Olivia said as she gratefully sipped the tea.

“Like my tarts, do you, lad?”

Because his mouth was full, he merely nodded.

“When Bennett and Quenton were lads, they couldn’t get enough of my tarts.”

“You’ve known them since they were young?”

“All their lives. And their father before them. Good lads they were. And still are.”

While she spoke she continued rolling dough and shaping it into small tarts. Mistress Thornton ambled in and poured herself a cup of tea, and within minutes Pembroke joined them as well.

“I see ye’re getting acquainted with the lad and ’is governess,” the housekeeper muttered as she helped herself to a tart.

“Aye.” Cook handed a tart to the butler. “Been telling them about the lord and his brother. Got into mischief when they were younger. But never anything mean-spirited.”

Pembroke nodded. “They always looked out for each other. But they were full of energy.”

“Do you recall the time the old lord had us hunting all over Blackthorne for his two grandsons? Turned the house upside down, we did.”

“Where did you finally find them?” Olivia asked.

“In the stables, beside their favorite mare, who had just foaled. All three young ones, the lads and the foal, being licked and nuzzled until they had fallen asleep.” Mistress Thornton, in her high-pitched voice, had them all laughing as she recalled the scene.

It was a most pleasant hour. And it gave Olivia a chance to see Lord Stamford in a whole new light.

“Miss St. John seems attentive enough, m’lord. She and the lad seem to be getting on. A bit bold though. Has no qualms about poking all round the place, chatting up the servants.”

Mistress Thornton saw Lord Stamford glance up from his ledgers and started talking faster to hold his attention. “From what I can learn, she’s educated. Her parents were scholars. Made their home in Oxford. And...”

“Thank you, Mistress Thornton.” Quenton rubbed at his temple to relieve the dull throb of a headache, made worse by the shrill voice. “Tell her to bring the lad to sup with me tonight. I’ll see for myself how they’re getting on.”

“Aye, m’lord.” She twisted the apron in her hands as she gathered up her courage. “That might prove to be a bit of a problem.”

“A problem?”

“She asked if she and the lad could take their meal with Master Bennett tonight.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “My brother?”

The housekeeper looked away. “I told her it was impossible. Master Bennett always takes his meals alone in his room with one of the servants to assist him. ”

“Why did she wish to eat with my brother?”

Mistress Thornton shrugged. “She seems to think that having company will ease some of the young lad’s fears.”

His scowl deepened. The housekeeper braced herself for his wrath. Instead he said through gritted teeth, “Very well. Invite Miss St. John and the lad to sup with me. And have one of the servants bring along my brother as well.”

“To dine with you?” The housekeeper was so startled she couldn’t help staring.

Instead of responding, he merely glowered at her.

“Aye, m’lord. I’ll see to it myself.” She hurried away and sent a servant to inform the new governess that she would be expected to dine with Lord Stamford and his brother.

An honor indeed, seeing as how the heir to Blackthorne had dined alone every night since his return.

Minutes later there was a knock on Liat’s door. “Miss St. John?”

Olivia looked up at the dour Edlyn. “Yes?”

“Mistress Thornton says you and the boy are to dine with Lord Quenton tonight.”

“But I had hoped to dine with his brother.”

“Master Bennett will join you.”

“Thank you.” Olivia stood and held out her hand to Liat. “Come. I’ll help you wash and get ready.”

He held back. “Must I go?”

“Don’t you want to?”

He shook his head and studied the floor.

“Why?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of Lord Stamford?”

He nodded. In a very small voice he said, “He doesn’t ever speak to me. Or smile. He just looks at me. And his eyes aren’t happy.”

“I see.” She knelt, so that their faces were level.

“I only met Lord Stamford twice. Both times were on the night I arrived. He was a bit abrupt with me as well. So I suppose I should be as frightened of him as you are.”

“Are you?”

She nodded. There was no point in denying the truth. “I suppose we’re always afraid of what we don’t know. But I’ve heard he’s a very fine man. And very fair.” She hoped her little lie would be forgiven. In fact, she’d heard whispers from the servants that Lord Quenton Stamford spoke to them only when necessary, and that he was most often brusque and impatient.

There were rumors and mutterings about him being repeated in every room and hall of the great manor house. Talk that he had been a murdering, thieving pirate in the employ of King Charles. That he had led a life of debauchery in the port city of Jamaica. And that the lad, Liat, was just one of his many illegitimate children. Olivia was determined to turn a deaf ear to all. Her only concern was the well-being of Liat. But it was difficult to ignore the rumors.

She got to her feet. “Let’s get ready and go to dinner together, shall we?” She offered her hand again. This time Liat accepted, and followed her to the basin of water.

A short time later they made their way downstairs.

“Good evening, miss.” Pembroke stood guard in front of massive double doors. “His lordship is expecting you.”

He opened the doors, then stepped aside, allowing Olivia and Liat to precede him.

The little boy’s hand found its way into Olivia’s. And though she gave him a bright smile, her heart was thundering.

The room suited the man. It was a formal dining hall, hung with tapestries and furnished in a lavish manner. On either end of the hall was an enormous fireplace with logs ablaze. A long wooden table, capable of seating a score of people, dominated the center of the room. A dozen lavish pewter candleholders bathed the room in light.

“Lord Stamford.” Pembroke’s cultured voice broke the silence.

Quenton Stamford stood in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. At the sound of Pembroke’s voice, he turned. The hound at his feet stood and issued a warning growl.

This time Olivia could see the man much more clearly than on her earlier meetings in a dimly lit hall. A dark angeL The thought jolted. He was very tall, with wide shoulders and narrow waist. The elegantly tailored jacket couldn’t hide the ripple of muscle along his arms and shoulders. Dark hair curled over the collar of his shirt, framing a clean-shaven face that might have been handsome had it not seemed so stern. His jaw was square, with a hint of a cleft in the chin. In his hand was a silver goblet. Both his hands and face, she noted, were bronzed by the sun. From his years aboard ship, no doubt.

As always, his eyes, so dark and piercing, held her when she would have looked away.

“Miss St. John and the lad are here.”