only because it is something
you should never mention again.”
“What do you mean? The Ravenglass
family are our friends, Christian fights for the White Rose just like my
family…”
“Not any more. Christian is a
traitor. Ravenglass was burned for it.”
“Burned by whom?”
“Your father.”
Chapter Two
Thomas Delacourt is a terrible man;
he is cold and devious and I do not trust him, but he is the only parent I have
left.
He’s not waiting at the front of
the house for my arrival, but there are five footman and several maids ready to
greet me. I climb out of the carriage
and brush off the pastry crumbs from my dress. Mistress Black thrusts her bag
at the nearest servant and strides off into the house.
I look at the welcome party. I
remember Mistress Leighton the cook. I’m so happy to see she’s still here that
I lurch forward and embrace her. The tight lacing on my cotehardie digs
into me, but I don’t care. She looks around us for a moment, then hugs me back.
“Welcome home, poppet,” she
whispers.
Gordons, whom I also remember, grins at me. He
was just a footman when I left, but he now wears the livery of head butler. I’m
not silly enough to hug him, but I do shake his hand vigorously, which makes
the maids laugh
“Jolly good to see you, Lady
Lucinda. You look beautiful, and you smell like,” he leans forward and sniffs
me, “pastry.”
I blush and reach into my purse to
retrieve what are left of my pastries. I hand them to Mistress Leighton.
“I baked them before I left.”
Mistress Leighton quickly hides the
cakes in her apron, “We have a lot of catching up to do,” she says with a wink.
I rush into my childhood home, but
instead of the resurrection of warm memories, I find it familiar yet cold. The
fire in the great hall isn’t lit and it’s much darker than I remember. My homecoming is less than spectacular and
part of me wants nothing more than to climb into that carriage and trundle off back
to France. But I know that I can’t.
Gordons coughs. I hadn’t even heard
him approach.
“Your father wishes to see you now,
Lady Lucinda.”
I quickly check my reflection in
the hall mirror: my hair is sticking out at unfavorable angles, and there’s a
spot of jam still clinging to my bottom lip; has that been there since the
coach? I lick it off, then smooth down my hair as best I can.
There are only thirty steps between
the hall and my father’s study. I count them off in my head, just like I used
to do when I was little. When I reach the door I knock. There is no answer. I
knock again. No answer. I know father is inside. His study is his lair; he only
ever ventures between it, his bedroom, and the dining room. I open the door and
walk in.
Father is sitting behind his desk.
He’s thinner in the face than what I remember, not as broad. There is also a
speckle of grey dusting his dark hair. He must feel my eyes on him, as he looks
up at me.
“You just barge in here, not even a
knock?” he yells.
“I knocked twice, father.”
“Talking back. God’s bones what did
I pay those fancy French tutors for?”
There is no way for me to win this
argument. I’m not sure what I had expected, that three years of absence would
have mellowed him? That he would have charged over to me and given me a hug,
promising me that I’d never leave his side again? I’m a fool.
The silence between us has now
stretched so far it’s about to snap. So I curtsy.
His nose twitches. “Go to your
room. We’ll speak at dinner.”
I keep my eyes to the floor as I
back out of his study. When the door shuts behind me I release a breath I was
holding. I run up the stairs to my old room, slam the door behind me and fall
onto my bed. I scratch at my overgown till I loosen its grip on my torso. I
hadn’t realized how tired I was till I drop into a deep sleep.
I wake up late for dinner and have
to quickly change dresses in a bid to appear organized. My maid hasn’t come up
and
you should never mention again.”
“What do you mean? The Ravenglass
family are our friends, Christian fights for the White Rose just like my
family…”
“Not any more. Christian is a
traitor. Ravenglass was burned for it.”
“Burned by whom?”
“Your father.”
Chapter Two
Thomas Delacourt is a terrible man;
he is cold and devious and I do not trust him, but he is the only parent I have
left.
He’s not waiting at the front of
the house for my arrival, but there are five footman and several maids ready to
greet me. I climb out of the carriage
and brush off the pastry crumbs from my dress. Mistress Black thrusts her bag
at the nearest servant and strides off into the house.
I look at the welcome party. I
remember Mistress Leighton the cook. I’m so happy to see she’s still here that
I lurch forward and embrace her. The tight lacing on my cotehardie digs
into me, but I don’t care. She looks around us for a moment, then hugs me back.
“Welcome home, poppet,” she
whispers.
Gordons, whom I also remember, grins at me. He
was just a footman when I left, but he now wears the livery of head butler. I’m
not silly enough to hug him, but I do shake his hand vigorously, which makes
the maids laugh
“Jolly good to see you, Lady
Lucinda. You look beautiful, and you smell like,” he leans forward and sniffs
me, “pastry.”
I blush and reach into my purse to
retrieve what are left of my pastries. I hand them to Mistress Leighton.
“I baked them before I left.”
Mistress Leighton quickly hides the
cakes in her apron, “We have a lot of catching up to do,” she says with a wink.
I rush into my childhood home, but
instead of the resurrection of warm memories, I find it familiar yet cold. The
fire in the great hall isn’t lit and it’s much darker than I remember. My homecoming is less than spectacular and
part of me wants nothing more than to climb into that carriage and trundle off back
to France. But I know that I can’t.
Gordons coughs. I hadn’t even heard
him approach.
“Your father wishes to see you now,
Lady Lucinda.”
I quickly check my reflection in
the hall mirror: my hair is sticking out at unfavorable angles, and there’s a
spot of jam still clinging to my bottom lip; has that been there since the
coach? I lick it off, then smooth down my hair as best I can.
There are only thirty steps between
the hall and my father’s study. I count them off in my head, just like I used
to do when I was little. When I reach the door I knock. There is no answer. I
knock again. No answer. I know father is inside. His study is his lair; he only
ever ventures between it, his bedroom, and the dining room. I open the door and
walk in.
Father is sitting behind his desk.
He’s thinner in the face than what I remember, not as broad. There is also a
speckle of grey dusting his dark hair. He must feel my eyes on him, as he looks
up at me.
“You just barge in here, not even a
knock?” he yells.
“I knocked twice, father.”
“Talking back. God’s bones what did
I pay those fancy French tutors for?”
There is no way for me to win this
argument. I’m not sure what I had expected, that three years of absence would
have mellowed him? That he would have charged over to me and given me a hug,
promising me that I’d never leave his side again? I’m a fool.
The silence between us has now
stretched so far it’s about to snap. So I curtsy.
His nose twitches. “Go to your
room. We’ll speak at dinner.”
I keep my eyes to the floor as I
back out of his study. When the door shuts behind me I release a breath I was
holding. I run up the stairs to my old room, slam the door behind me and fall
onto my bed. I scratch at my overgown till I loosen its grip on my torso. I
hadn’t realized how tired I was till I drop into a deep sleep.
I wake up late for dinner and have
to quickly change dresses in a bid to appear organized. My maid hasn’t come up
and
Similar Books
