Chapter 1
Estelle
Northumberland, 1853
Ipaced the short distance around my bedchamber, searching for the perfect words to express my deepening ire toward my brother. In my distracted state, I nearly tripped over a crinoline petticoat spilling out of my open trunk, my foot catching on the stiff, corded fabric. Shoving it aside, I continued my pursuit about the room.
Words.
I needed the right words.
Nora sighed as she placed a neatly folded stack of handkerchiefs in my trunk before tending to the petticoat I had stepped on. “If ye don’t wear a hole in the carpet, miss, ye’ll wear one inta me nerves.”
I stopped by the fireplace and pointed at Nora. “Nerves. Yes. Reginald has quite thenerveasking this of me after abandoning me here for months on end.”
This only turned Nora’s sigh into a moan. Anyone else might have thought she had hurt herself, but I understood that her pain stemmed from an ache in her heart over Reginald and me. For all my twenty years, she had remained at my side, caring for me as well as my mother had, God rest her soul, but Nora loved Reginald too. It was true she was angryabout what my brother had done to me, but she was equally crushed with my rash response.
What she didn’t know was that it wasnotrash.
I had already decided to leave the town of Wyndgate.
A nagging feeling had left me restless and discontent for some time. It’s why I had secretly answered the advertisement for a governess. Reginald’s news had only propelled me to accept the offer. Now, fears or not, I would not yield. I had to leave.
I had to find myself.
“I know what to say to him now.” Marching to my desk, I sat down with a thump. “I must be firm,” I instructed myself. “Bold. Direct!” Dragging a piece of paper toward me, I picked up my quill and dipped it into the ink.
Dear Reginald,
By the time you read this letter, you will have discovered that I have abandoned Norwood Hall. I know you did not expect to find upsetting news in place of your sister after your long journey from the continent, but I was left with little choice when faced with your ridiculous arrangement to marry me off to a perfect stranger. I consider myself a dutiful sister, but you are asking too much of me. Frankly, I am tired of always doing what is expected. The idea of continuing a life patterned this way leaves me quite ill. It is time for me to take my life into my own hands.
I paused, a small smile curling at my lips. Being frank was rather empowering.
“Would ye like me to pack yer books?” Nora interrupted from behind me.
My books. I shifted my attention to the small tower on my bedside table and the larger one on the floor beside it. It physically hurt to consider leaving them behind, and I rubbed my hand over my heart. I heard my mother’s voice in my head—so afraid of what Society would say about my half-Irish blood after the scorn from the famine and the mass migration to England—instructing me to read all the proper books of moral refinement. “To be a truly accomplished young lady,” she’d said, “you must be fluent in at least three languages, proficient in several of the fine arts, and be well-read in a variety of subjects suitable for a lady. No one will look down on my child. You, Estelle, are going to be a Society diamond.”
I unconsciously straightened my gloves, ensuring the seam lines lay perfectly straight, as I had done a thousand times. But it was never enough. I was never enough. I had thrown myself into my education, neglecting every other part of my life. But what was the point of being an accomplished young lady now? No one cared a fig about my long hours on the pianoforte or had seen a single one of my sketches. I had never had my chance to be a diamond and never would.
Once Mother and Father had died, my future had fallen to Reginald. He had firmly established his standing among the upper echelons of Society as a gentleman of considerable means, and now, with his vast inheritance, he possessed the freedom to remove himself from home as far as he pleased.
And me?
All my preparations for a Season had been a waste.
I had not left space in my life for close friends, and I was no use to anyone.
I set my jaw and informed Nora of my decision. “I will no longer devote myself to my studies. And before you ask, leave my music anddrawing supplies too. A working woman does not have time for such vain pursuits.”
“Yes, miss,” Nora sniffled.
The noise caught my attention, and I stole a glance over my shoulder. Nora’s mobcap sat slightly askew atop her head. Frantic worry for me had altered her formerly neat appearance, and I daresay, she was on the verge of tears. My stomach knotted. How I hated when she cried over me.
If only Reginald had spent even half of the last five years at Norwood Hall, everything would be different.
I turned back to my letter.
Before you grow angry and toss this letter in the fire, you must realize that you have dug this grave yourself. Though you could easily afford to sponsor a Season in London for me, chaperoning me at a few social functions would have sufficed. I could have secured a husband to my own liking and taste.
