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CHAPTERONE
Even before she turned around, Nora Turner knew that Henry would be behind her. She gripped the basket filled with food and refused to move an inch.
“Well, well! Lady Nora, I presume. Your father will be none too pleased about this, I think.”
“Well,” she said, spinning around, “while you tattle along to tell my father, do remember that your silly threats do not scare me.”
The short, bald butler fumed and glared at her, but Nora retained her look of confidence until he had marched out of the pantry.
“Probably on his way to tell Father,” she sighed to herself. Her whispers drifted to Amelia, who was walking past.
“Who’s on his way to tell Father what?”
Nora heard Amelia's question before she saw her. She bit her lower lip before remembering that it would irritate her darlingtwin sister; shewould panic once she entered the pantry.
“Nora, what did you…” Amelia’s voice trailed off as she reached her. Amelia was dressed in a simple day frock, much like her sister’s. Both dresses were adorned with simple lace edges, and much to their father’s anger, both were the same shade of pink.
It annoyed Lord Turner to no end that his daughters continued to dress in the same colors, as he could never tell them apart.
They looked so much alike; both had large ginger curls and big, green eyes. When they were born, the midwives had tied a pink ribbon around Amelia’s wrist and a blue one to Nora’s. If not for the ribbons, no one could distinguish them.
Nora offered a small smile. “Father won’t be that cross,” she said in an attempt to make her sister smile, but she wasn’t successful.
“Oh, Nora,” Amelia sighed before rushing to cover over the large picnic basket. “You know it’s too much of a risk to sneak food out in the daytime. And this is full to the brim!”
Nora sighed and theybegan to restock the pantry shelves together, knowing it would be foolish to continue her mission. “Naomi and Nathan are really struggling, Amy,” she whined.
Naomi and Nora had met years ago. She was a middle-aged widow with no other family except her son — shedid everything she could, but times were tough and food was scarce.
“I’m aware, but you know we must avoid rousing Father’s anger. I fear he will hit you and—”
“Oh, Amy! You mustn’t worry so. Father has not hit us since we were three-and-ten.”
“You say that like it was long ago.”
“Seven years is an age for some.”
“Not to me,” Amelia said with a shiver. “He terrified me.”
“I know… and you were always well-behaved.” Nora handed her sister a loaf of bread. There was a slight smile on her face.
“And even when I was not, you took my whoopings as often as I would let you, and even—”
“And even sometimes when you would not,” Nora laughed and finished her sister’s sentence. “Oh, those times seem like ages ago.”
Once they were finally done putting the food away, both sisters exchanged fond looks.
“You were always a mother hen.”
“Well, I am older,” Nora said as Amelia slipped her hand into hers.
“By a minute only, Nora,” she said, but there was a smile on her face. “Come,” she said. “Father will, no doubt, send for you soon.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of him.”
“That is what I fear. I wish Henry would have mistaken you for me, but he’s too eagle-eyed for his own good.”
Both sisters walked out of the pantry, arm in arm, and headed for their shared bedroom on the eastern wing of their father’s manor.
