Page 1 of Summer Storms

PROLOGUE

1835, Christmas at Starling Hall, Barton Lacey, Somerset, England

Thirteen year old Christine eyed the Nash family suspiciously. Every year, her parents invited them to spend Christmas at Starling Hall. And every year, Zek Nash sneered at her as if he believed he was better than her.

He wasn’t. He never would be. She hated him, he hated her, and despite it being the season of love and forgiveness that was never going to change.

Look at him in his threadbare jacket, acting as if he’s wearing the latest fashion!

Last week, he had thrown snowballs at her, the icy water had trickled down her back until she wanted to scream. She got him back later, though, holding her nose whenever he walked past in the village, pretending he reeked of some foul odour, which caused much merriment among the passersby.

Everyone knew the Nashes were the poorest family in Barton Lacey. They barely scraped together enough from their varying jobs to put food on their table. Christine didn’t know why they were so poor, but it was no doubt their own fault, and she felt no sympathy for them. Perhaps if Zek Nash looked at her the way the other village boys did, admiring and envious, she might have thought better of them.

But he didn’t.

Now he was glaring at her over the top of the steaming plum pudding her sister Abby had placed on the table in front of him. Christine sniffed and turned her back, flouncing back to the kitchen. One day, she told herself, she would make Zek Nash wish he had been more respectful of her. One day he would get his comeuppance.

CHAPTER ONE

Summer 1842, Starling Hall

Twenty-one year old Christine sank down on the seat in the garden and tried to calm herself. It was so quiet at the Hall, not at all what she was used to. Her life was in London, or it had been for the past year. She had gone to live with her Aunt Priscilla, just as Abby had before her. Abby had met her future husband there, Lord Ravenhill, and although it had not been all smooth sailing, they were happily married now, and Abby was expecting.

Christine, however, had not met a future husband during her stay. Instead, she had visited the theatres and annoyed the manager of The Playhouse, just off Drury Lane, until he had agreed to let her join one of his productions as part of the chorus. She hadn’t stayed in the chorus long, and soon moved closer and closer to the front of the stage with larger and larger roles. Although The Playhouse was not one of the most popular or prestigious theatres in London, she had been talented—and lucky—enough to play some minor but crucial characters. And now she had been named as one of the lead characters in a brand new production due to open in the autumn.

Though she was not in the same league as the renowned Madame Vestris, she was proud of her accomplishments. Perhaps, in three months, matters would change. Perhaps, if she were a hit, a more popular theatre would employ her. Before long, she might even become a household name.

But despite the pleasure she felt in her success, there was also a niggle of doubt. For some reason she had expected to feel far happier. The work was hard, and although the rewards were very nice, there were times when she wondered what was the matter with her that she could not celebrate wholeheartedly. She thought somehow that she would have felt more complete.

The truth was that she was lonely. Despite all that she had achieved, she missed Starling Hall and her family. She missed her little village of Barton Lacey. But she had been so desperate to leave the little village and move to London. It was absurd that she now found herself dreaming about it, almost yearning for it.

Many times she had told herself to stop, but she couldn’t seem to. That was why she was home at Starling Hall now, in the hopes that a quick visit might be all she needed to satisfy whatever this silly nostalgia was inside her head. Once it was dealt with, she could return to London fresh and ready to conquer the theatre-going public.

“Ah! There you are!”

She jumped as her eldest brother, Will, intruded upon her secluded spot in the garden and sat down beside her. He sighed and lifted his face to the sun. “This is the first time I have sat down all day,” he said. “Even breakfast was on the run.”

“You love it,” she retorted.

Will grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “I do. Everything at Starling Hall is going well. Molly is happy.”

“And your little one is thriving,” Christine added. Will and Molly’s baby Phyllis was growing fast, bestowed with the same red hair and blue eyes as her father. The Starlings all had red hair, and no one had expected this new addition to the family to be any different.

Will’s smile grew wider. “I believe we are going to dinner at Abby’s tonight.”

“Yes, that will be fun.” She meant it, but Will gave her a look as if he wasn’t sure she did.

“Your sister is the happiest I have ever seen her,” he said. “Reeve makes her happy. I truly believe he would do anything for her.”

“They do seem to be sickeningly in love,” Christine agreed with a twist of her lips.

Will gave her another look, this one reproving. “She deserves it,” he said quietly.

“I know, I know. I just...” She bit her lip. “I know it is very selfish of me, but sometimes I wonder if I will ever meet someone who makes me as happy as Reeve makes Abby.”

“And why shouldn’t you? What of those whispers from Aunt Priscilla, about some titled gentleman squiring you about in London?”

Christine waved a hand. “Oh, that! He was very nice, but I felt as if he was more interested in the roles I played than the woman behind them. If I were to show him Christine Starling without her airs and graces, I’m sure he would run a mile.”