Page 2 of Return to Wildsyde

“Ah, now I have your attention, you stubborn fool. As if you want to spend the entire day out here. Come on, now,” she coaxed.

The cat craned its neck towards the fat, licking his lips, but did not move. Luella drew the fat back towards her, farther out of reach. The cat inched closer, and closer still.

“Got you!” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of the cat, who was heavier than she had expected. He yowled and swiped at her, catching her hand. Luella yelped and dropped him to the floor where he sat, contentedly chewing on the fat while she inspected a livid red scratch on the back of her hand. “There’s gratitude,” she muttered with a sigh.

“Oh, there you are, my wicked boy,” the old lady crooned, bending to stroke the cat’s head. “Thank you, Lulu, you’re a good girl.”

“You’re welcome,” Luella replied with a smile.

She left Mrs Wilkinson to the company of her cat and climbed two more sets of stairs to her father’s apartment. Happily, the old man was out, no doubt spending coin they didn’t have in much the same way as Mrs Heeley on the front step. Luella’s little brother Jack was here, though, and he looked up at her with a grin, setting aside the book he’d been reading.

“Did you rescue him?”

“Of course I did, though I was wounded in battle,” she replied, holding her scratched hand up for inspection.

“Ouch,” Jack replied in sympathy. “I was going to make tea, so the water is hot if you want to wash it.”

Luella nodded and ruffled his hair. “But is there any tea?” she asked with a rueful smile.

“A bit. We’ll have to use the leaves three times soon, though, if Pa doesn’t come up with something.”

Luella’s stomach twisted. She wondered just what her father might have in mind if he couldn’t pay the ever-increasing bills that were piling up on the kitchen table. When her cousin Lilith had married Lord Buchanan, Papa had been in alt. He’d said it was the sort of triumph Luella could achieve if she only bestirred herself a little. The idea of trapping a man into marriage made Luella's blood run cold with disgust, more so the idea of living with the poor fellow for the rest of her days. But Lord Buchanan had been a disappointment to his wife and their whole family when it turned out he was no fat pigeon for plucking. Indeed, Lilith’s new husband had been a far cannier man than she’d bargained for. He didn’t give a hoot for scandal, and whilst he had done the honourable thing and married her—fool that he was—that was as far as he was willing to take it. He’d not have her live in his house, nor give her free range to spend as she pleased. Lilith was furious, and Luella could only pity the poor fellow. She did not doubt her cousin’s revenge would be diabolical. She might have a face that could make an angel cry, but her heart was black as pitch.

Luella tended to her scratch and made a pot of weak tea to go with the bread and cheese they were having for supper. She tried to remember the last time she’d eaten a piece of meat and her stomach growled so audibly she decided it was better not to think of it at all.

Afterwards, Jack took himself off to bed to read his book and Luella sat quietly at the table in the corner of the tiny room they shared, writing in her diary as she did every night. The candle flickered, sending odd shapes dancing around the room and she paused. In her mind’s eyes she tried to imagine a castle in the wilds of Scotland, a big draughty place with vast fireplaces and views that looked out upon miles of wilderness, instead of no farther than the next brick wall.

She wondered why Lilith hadn’t simply made friends with the man she had trapped, had made him want to marry her, for no doubt she could have done so easily enough. Everything had always come easy to Lilith, and she was spoiled because of it. Her father was cleverer than Luella’s pa, though. He had made his fortune on a fraudulent railway scheme, embezzling a frightening sum of money. Luella was uncertain if she wished her father was that clever or not. At least she wouldn’t have dresses that were in such a sorry state and only bread and cheese for supper.

She jumped at the sound of the front door slamming. Papa was home early. Not a good sign. If he caught sight of her, she would be in the line of fire for all the ills Papa felt had befallen them. Everything would be her fault and he would work himself up to a pitch. She tried to remember the father of her childhood when her mother still lived. Then she’d had no notion that their way of life was immoral and saw only her fun-loving parents, who drifted through life intending to wring every ounce of joy from it with as little effort as possible. That man had died with his wife, for he had loved her dearly, and Luella suspected her mother had been the brains behind all their schemes. Certainly, nothing had worked out since.

Her father had written to Lilith over a month ago, asking her to send for them, to demand of her husband that she needed a lady’s maid and requesting Luella, but no reply had come. He had made himself so furious he’d collapsed, hardly able to breathe and clutching at his chest. Luella had been forced to send for the doctor who had warned him his heart was not strong. Another such temper fit could be the end of him. Of course, seeing the doctor’s bill arrive had threatened to provoke just that and had forced Luella to pawn her one remaining treasure, a silver locket, to pay for it before Father killed himself with his spite and fury.

Not wanting another such scene, she decided retreat was the better part of valour.

Luella closed her diary, padded to the bed and lay down, tugging the covers over her head and feigning sleep.

Chapter 1

Dear diary,

Lilith is dead.

We received the news this morning. I have tried my best to feel pity for her, but it is hard to muster any tender emotion for a woman who was always hateful to me and to Jack. My father is furious, for with her goes his golden goose, though her husband seemed to have her measure and was not the kind to be bled dry. A cold sort of man, from what I can gather, though one can hardly blame him when Lilith trapped him in such a vile manner.

How I wish Jack and I did not belong to such a family of thieves and con artists. For Papa may claim an earl as his uncle but it does not change the truth. We are no better than the confidence tricksters on street corners and Papa is a regular Captain Sharp. I wish, too, that it was not so tempting to follow in their footsteps, but we shan’t. Jack and I will find a different way to live, a decent way. I only wish I knew how.

I just heard breaking china downstairs, which means we will now have even less of a tea set than we currently do. If Papa does not stop ranting and raging, he will have an apoplexy as the doctor warned him, and so I’ve told him, but he does not listen to either of us. I suppose I had better try to calm him before he wrecks the house or turns up his toes.

―Excerpt of a diary entry from Luella Fulbright, cousin to the late Lady Buchanan.

7th May 1845, Wildsyde Castle, The Highlands of Scotland.

Lyall heard the knock at the door but didn’t answer. The fire he was gazing at had died some hours ago, but that didn’t register, either. He was numb. Shock and too many other terrible emotions had overwhelmed his senses until he’d felt the need to shut down. He was angry at Lilith still. No, not angry. He’d left anger behind the day he’d married her and tumbled headfirst into cold hard fury, yet how could he remain so damned furious when she was dead and gone? The truth was, he was glad she was dead, and he feared what that said about him, that he could rejoice in the demise of a vibrant, beautiful young woman, no matter how wicked she’d been. So, he’d prescribed himself enough whisky to sink a man’o’war, which had done the job of numbing this confusing jumble of emotions effectively enough, but now he was paying the price for that too.

There were always consequences to actions, some more painful than others.

“Lyall?”