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Chapter One
London, June 28, 1727
Raquel no longer exists. That woman is gone. I am Jacqueline Trouvère now.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Jacqueline concentrated on breathing evenly and slowing her racing pulse. Sweat cooled, making her nightgown cling unpleasantly to her skin.
No matter how different life was now, no matter how safe her immediate world, terror still lived in her dreams. Every night it stalked her, breathing down her neck, freezing her blood.
“Will I ever be free?” The dark swallowed her shaken whisper.
The dark. The lamp had gone out. She’d forgotten to adjust the wick before falling asleep, and now the only light in the room came from the dying embers in the grate.
Jacqueline swung her feet over the side of the bed. Grabbing the cold lamp from her bedside table, she took off the globe and carried it to the hearth.
Holding a tiny flame to the fresh wick, she watched it flare to life. The lamp once more cast its light like a shield against the night. Shadows fled, and she breathed again.
Adding a fresh scoop of coal to the fire, she poked and fanned it until it burned bright. The clock on the mantel told her only five hours had passed since she’d fallen asleep. Despite her fatigue, however, her rumpled bed held no appeal.
She removed her damp nightgown, drew on a robe, and slid her feet into worn slippers. Trudging to the washstand, she poured a little water into the basin and rinsed her face. The shock of the cold water against her skin stripped away the cobwebs from her mind, bringing her fully into the present.
As she patted her face dry, her stomach let out a mighty growl, completing the awakening process. A wry smile tugged at her mouth. Now she wished she’d done more than nibble at her dinner. Breakfast was still hours away.
It’s that confounded builder’s fault, putting me all in a furor and upsetting my appetite yesterday. Why does every male in London think me an empty-headed fool to be taken advantage of with impunity?
Going to her desk, she sat and took out a fresh sheet of stationery. Lord Tavistoke must be informed. She hated to bother him, but the situation required it.
London was a man’s world. If a dispute between a man and a woman was brought before the magistrate, he tended to side with his fellow male, regardless of the evidence. Male solidarity had more pull than fairness. She had proof of the builder’s fraudulence, but it was no guarantee she’d see justice served. Having Tavistoke quietly exert his influence on her behalf would.
Signing the letter with a flourish, she laid it aside on the blotter to dry. A splotch of ink on her hand caught her eye. In the dim light the dark fluid reminded her of blood. So much blood… She rested a hand on her belly. So much has been lost.
Stop this. He’s dead, and I’m free. The life I have now is of my own design. Determined to put the nasty business out of her mind, she moved on to the much happier task of reading an essay written in French by the first and oldest of her students, Honora.
Staying busy seemed the best way to keep the specter of her past at bay, and there was always work to be done here. A school this large didn’t run itself. She served as headmistress, teacher, nurse—whatever was needed—and she was glad of the hard work and long hours.
Pride filled Jacqueline as she scanned the lines. Honora was a prime example of how the proverbial sow’s ear could be transformed into a silk purse. If she could overcome her origins, anyone could. Just because a girl was born in the stews didn’t mean she was without worth, and having a prostitute for a mother should never condemn a child to a life of the same.
The house was awake and stirring by the time Jacqueline went down to breakfast. Joy buoyed her spirit as she passed between trestle tables lined with little girls in gray woolen dresses and clean pinafores. Their cheerful greetings of “Good morning, madame” banished the last of her lingering malaise.
After breakfast, she went to her office to complete the supply orders for the coming month. To her surprise, Mrs. Farrow, the arithmetic teacher, was waiting by the door.
Her heart sank at the look on the woman’s face. Not another one. This will be our second loss within six months. “Good morning, Mrs. Farrow. Is there something I may do for you?”
“Yes, Headmistress. I need to speak with you privately for a moment.”
Unlocking the door, Jacqueline let her in. “Please, sit down.” She opened the curtains to let in more light while she lit the lamp. “I can have tea brought in, if you like.”
“No thank you, Headmistress.” Mrs. Farrow perched on the seat’s edge, as if prepared to flee at any moment. “I came because I’ve some news to share with you. News that, I fear, will not please you.”
“You are leaving us to marry Dr. Whitehall.” Jacqueline smiled as her colleague’s eyes widened.
“You knew?”
“It was not hard to see how much you admired each other.” The physician retained by the school to look after the children’s health had taken an immediate and obvious liking to Mrs. Farrow. “When is the happy day?”
“September twenty-second.”
She couldn’t hide her dismay. “Such a short engagement, only three months?”
Mrs. Farrow blushed. “We would wait longer, but h
is mother’s health is failing, and she would see her son married.”
There was nothing to be done but accept it. “You must accompany Dr. Whitehall when he comes and take tea with us as often as possible.”
A look of discomfort crossed Mrs. Farrow’s face. “Actually, we’ll be moving to Newcastle immediately following the wedding—he would have told you, but I asked him to let me speak to you first.”
Two friends—and two vital employees—gone. It was a crushing blow. “I see.”
“I can stay until the end of August, at the latest.”
Breathe. “I shall advertise the position immediately. Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“No, Headmistress. I’ll leave you to your work and return to my duties.” But she didn’t rise. “I shall miss this place,” continued the young woman, a quaver in her voice. “It has become my home. More than that, I shall miss those I’ve come to look upon as family here, including you. I don’t know what I would have done if not for your kindness. I’m aware my leaving puts you in a difficult position, and it fills me with regret.”
Jacqueline blinked back tears. “Don’t allow regret to diminish your joy, Mrs. Farrow. You have repaid tenfold what was given to you, and I certainly don’t begrudge you your good fortune. Few find love even once in their lifetime. That you have found it twice is a miracle.”
The teacher bowed her head. “Thank you. I…” She swallowed. “I would like to ask one final favor of you.”
“You have but to name it.”
“Will you stand in place of my parents at my wedding? Of all the people I’ve come to regard as my family here, you are the dearest.”
