A Lady’s Romantic Journey (Preview)

Prologue

England, 1795

Hyacinth’s eyes travelled to her husband’s ugly-looking grandfather clock, her belly tightening as she watched the minute hand land on twelve. It was time to leave. Reaching for her daughter’s hand, Hyacinth kissed the pudgy little palm.

“It’s time to go, Charlie.”

Charlotte’s little face looked up, her eyes serious and questioning. “Where we going?”

Hyacinth knew her daughter didn’t like to be disturbed when playing with her teacups and stuffed bears, but this couldn’t be put off. We cannot be late, or we’ll miss the ship. Everything must be timed perfectly.

“We’re going to see Lady Eloise. Do you recall that I told you we would visit her today?”

“Oh, yes,” the three-year-old replied, her face brightening. “I like Aunt Lois. Will we have cake?”

Hyacinth smiled. Not many people got away with calling Lady Eloise an aunt or shortening the baroness’ name to Lois, but Charlotte had a way with people. Hyacinth’s smile dropped a smidgen at the reality of their situation. They were not going to Lady Eloise, and neither would Charlotte get her cake. Instead, they were about to embark on a risky journey that could mean their freedom if everything went well. Hyacinth didn’t want to imagine what would happen if this plan failed.

“Yes, dear,” Hyacinth lied. “But we must hurry, or we’ll be late.”

Charlotte would undoubtedly be disappointed, but it would only last a little while. Whereas I cannot stand another minute of this life.

Hyacinth had already sent her handmaiden ahead with a few of her belongings under the cloak of darkness. It wouldn’t do for the other servants to know what they were up to, as they would surely report it to John and spoil everything. Fiona had left the day before with her daughter Becca to supposedly see a family member, when in fact she was biding her time. The handmaiden had appeared that same night after the stroke of midnight to take a few of Hyacinth’s belongings to temporary lodgings before boarding the ship today. Hyacinth was confident John wouldn’t notice a few jewellery pieces missing, money taken from the safe, or a small valise filled with some necessities until it was too late. The rest of what Hyacinth would need for her journey would be provided once they made it onto the ship. If we make it there.

Nightmares about John finding out about the plan had kept her awake every night, but that didn’t lessen her resolve to run away from this suffocating marriage and begin anew in a far-off land.

“Can I take Mr Wiggles and Claribel with me?” her daughter asked. “Aunt Lois has no toys.”

Having extra baggage would undoubtedly slow them down, even if the baggage were two stuffed bears. Still, Hyacinth didn’t want to deny Charlotte some comfort for the long journey ahead.

“You can choose one bear, not two.”

“Only one?” Charlotte protested. “But they will be lonely, Mama!”

Hyacinth’s eyes crept to the clock, alarmed at how quickly time was passing. They didn’t have time to argue over silly things! I still don’t know how I’m going to explain everything to her. How do you tell a three-year-old child she is leaving the only home she has ever known, and will begin a new life in a foreign country? The little girl would ask a dozen questions that Hyacinth had no immediate answers to. It is not as though I can speak of my marital problems. What did a child know about being married to a possessive man who was old enough to be her father?

Hyacinth had only been seventeen when her uncle had forced her into the marriage. She had never seen it coming and had been wholly unprepared. It should never have happened, but no one had been about to save her from her uncle’s crooked ways.

Uncle Edgar had become her guardian after Hyacinth’s parents’ untimely death when she was just twelve. The man had primarily left her to her own devices as he had had no time to spare for a grieving daughter. One day, soon after her seventeenth birthday, Uncle Edgar had arrived at her parents’ country estate (which he had fortunately not sold to pay his gambling debts due to a clause in her parents’ will) and declared he had found Hyacinth a suitable husband. Of course, Hyacinth had been outraged. How dare her uncle spring this on her without at least a formal courtship to see if she and the suitor were compatible? When Hyacinth had finally met John Russell, Duke of Claverset, on their wedding day, it was if the very life had seeped out of her. I was powerless then, but I refuse to submit my daughter to the same fate.

Hyacinth’s only light in this horrible marriage was Charlotte. At first, she had not wanted to be pregnant and had hated her unborn baby, but when Charlotte had uttered her first gusty cry, Hyacinth had felt an inexplicable pull and protectiveness towards the wailing infant. It was in that precise moment she had vowed to protect the child from all danger, even if that danger was Charlotte’s father. It would be easier if John were indifferent towards his daughter, but he’s completely smitten with her. Hyacinth’s husband spared nothing in giving Charlotte everything a child could ever want. But what would happen once Charlotte was of marrying age? Would John marry her off to some old man like Hyacinth’s uncle did to her? There was no telling what could happen in the future, and Hyacinth was taking no chances.

Crouching before her daughter, Hyacinth took both hands in hers. “Charlie, are two bears necessary?”

“Yes, Mama! I don’t want them to be lonely.”

Hyacinth sighed. “Very well. We shall take the two bears, but no more. Quickly gather them so we can go.”

Charlotte’s face lit up as she scooped up the soft toys, tucking them under one pudgy arm.

“I’m ready, Mama.”

“Good,” said Hyacinth, unable to withhold a smile. “Let’s go.”

Charlotte placed her tiny hand in Hyacinth’s palm, her adorable impish face looking up at her with all the trust in the world. Hyacinth bit her lower lip, a feeling of guilt washing over her. Was she doing the right thing by taking her daughter away from everything she had ever known? The path I’ve decided to take affects us both, but I’m doing it for our future. We will have no happiness in England.

Taking a deep breath, Hyacinth walked towards the door, her legs trembling with every step. John will likely kill me once he realises that not only have I run away, but I’ve taken our daughter with me. There was no way Hyacinth would leave Charlotte behind. Never.

“Are you going somewhere, dear?”

Hyacinth paused, her heart hammering against her chest. I thought he was locked away in his study! She had been counting on leaving the house without his knowledge. Hyacinth turned to her husband, her mind going blank when she encountered his light blue gaze. What was she supposed to say in such a situation? She had rehearsed answers with Fiona for days, covering every possible problem that could come up. I cannot remember a single thing! Thankfully, Charlotte unknowingly came to her rescue.

“We’re going to Aunt Lois, Papa, and Mama is letting me take Mr Wiggles and Claribel with me!”

“Oh, is that so, my Little Faerie? Are you going to leave your poor Papa today?”

At the word ‘leave’, Hyacinth was shaken out of her stupor. “NO!” she denied a tad too forcibly. At John’s raised eyebrows, she cleared her throat, touching a finger to her damp upper lip. “What I mean is that we are not leaving you but stepping out for the day.”

John’s greying eyebrows came together with a slight smile. “I know that, my love. I only said it in jest.”

Hyacinth inwardly cringed at the term of endearment. It didn’t matter that they had been married for five years, it still bothered her. Masking her distaste, she placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Darling, why don’t you give your Papa a kiss before we leave?”

Charlotte didn’t need to be told twice as she ran towards her father, launching herself at him. John caught her easily, throwing her into the air with a laugh. Charlotte gave a delighted squeal, urging her father to throw her higher. Guilt once again crept up on Hyacinth. Watching father and daughter together made her feel terrible for separating them, but she had to. This happiness Charlotte feels will not last forever. One day, she’ll grow up and realise that she is a woman with no rights. I want to keep her from falling into the same terrible fate I was forced into. Hyacinth wanted to start afresh in the New World and wanted her daughter to see more of the world than the four corners of a house. Marriage to the wrong man would dash Charlotte’s every dream and stifle her imagination. At least in America, she would have the freedom to choose. I’ll make sure of it.

“Dear?” came John’s voice. “Is everything all right?”

Hyacinth blinked. Had her mind wandered off again? She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, especially since she first contacted her long-lost family in America. Mama never once mentioned anything about her siblings who live in America. I found this knowledge out quite by accident. It was Hyacinth’s American family who had helped her plan this escape and was awaiting her arrival. They, too, condemned Uncle Edgar’s actions and wished her to be rescued from her trapping life.

“Hyacinth?” John called again.

“Oh, uh, sorry, John. I’ve had many things on my mind lately. We must take your leave, I’m afraid, or Lady Eloise will be most annoyed by our tardiness.”

John’s speculating gaze remained, but he nodded. “Of course. Punctuality is important. Has Pierce brought the carriage around already?”

And there lay the other piece of the plan she had to explain away. Hyacinth was not travelling with Pierce, as the man would realise something was amiss. Instead, another carriage ride had been organised under the guise of it being Lady Eloise’s personal transport.

“Lady Eloise has arranged a carriage for us today,” said Hyacinth. “She purchased a new one, and I wished to be the first guest rider in it.”

“I did not know you were interested in such things,” John mused.

“It has attractive features inside created by a master carpenter. You know how I love anything intricately carved and embellished.”

“Indeed, I do.” John smiled. “Why don’t I accompany you both and I can see it for myself?”

That was the last thing Hyacinth needed. One look inside the carriage, and he’ll know I was lying.

“Perhaps when we return,” Hyacinth argued gently. “We truly do not wish to be delayed any longer.”

Thankfully, John didn’t insist any more. “I understand, my love. Enjoy your day out,” he said, coming to kiss her cheek.

Hyacinth flinched ever so slightly, but John saw it. He sighed, pulling back before his lips made contact with her skin.

“Please be back by three,” John cautioned. “There’s reportedly a storm today, and I do not wish either of you to be caught in it.”

It was just like John to put a time restraint on her. Hyacinth had already observed the weather and knew there would be some rain, but nothing to warrant a storm. He merely wishes to keep me under rule and thumb. He hates me to leave his sight. Fortunately, John respected Lady Eloise and would have no problem with Hyacinth visiting the woman. But I’m not, am I?

“Very well. We’ll do as you say,” she lied. “Come along, Charlie darling. We don’t want to keep Lady Eloise waiting.”

Charlotte skipped to her, taking Hyacinth’s outstretched hand. Looking at her husband for the last time, her lips stretching into a rare smile, Hyacinth gave her parting words.

“Goodbye, John.”

His eyes took on a puzzled look, but he raised his hand. “I shall see you both later, my darlings. Do give Lady Eloise my regards.”

“Of course. Come, Charlie.”

Hyacinth walked to the front door, not looking back once. For the first time since this plan was put together, she felt confident and optimistic. I’m going to make it. Come this time tomorrow, she and her daughter would be long gone, and there would be nothing John could do about it.

John watched his wife and daughter walk away, feeling a sense of uneasiness at their departure. Why was he feeling so odd? That odd sensation of impending doom had hovered over him for some days now, but he had shrugged it away. There was absolutely no reason to feel uncomfortable with his wife going to see Lady Eloise. Hyacinth was good friends with the woman and often called on her.

“There’s nothing to worry about, you old fool,” he scolded himself. “They will be back in several hours.”

John returned to his study and remained there for much of the day. When three o’clock came and went without sign of Hyacinth or Charlotte, alarm bells rang in his head.

“No, no. I shouldn’t be too hasty in jumping to conclusions. I’m certain they’re on their way. Perhaps this rain has slowed them down.”

It wasn’t raining heavily, but anyone worth their salt as a driver knew how precious their passengers were and should drive carefully anyway. Even a little bit of rain could cause hazardous roads. Hyacinth and Charlotte were everything to John, and he would destroy any person who put their lives in danger.

“I should give it another half hour or so. They should turn up by then.”

John paced the length of his study, his pocket watch in hand. His steward came in moments later, his face hardly able to conceal his concern.

“Your Grace, should I send Pierce to meet Her Grace and Lady Russell on the way?”

John knew what Nigel was saying even if he hadn’t said it. “You also believe something has happened, don’t you?”

“It’s best not to jump to conclusions, Your Grace. I can send Pierce to look on the usual routes to Lady Eloise’s house. I’m confident he’ll find them.”

Nigel did not sound so sure, but John appreciated his optimism. “Very well. Send Pierce if you think it necessary.”

He, too, refused to show his alarm, but John was stressing. Nigel bowed and left, his absence allowing John’s fears to swim back up to the surface. It wasn’t like Hyacinth to return an hour later than the given time.

Early on in their marriage, John explained how imperative it was that she obeyed him in all things. Edgar Powell had told him how ‘wild’ his niece could be and how she needed a firm hand to guide her along the right path. As smitten as he was by his wife, John knew he had to ensure her obedience to avoid future problems, such as behavioural problems or seeking affairs with other men. It had not escaped John’s notice how men had coveted his wife, men who were much younger and better-looking than him. Keeping Hyacinth away from the public’s eye for the first year of their marriage had ensured a docile and respectful wife, but at times John wondered if he had clipped her wings instead.

Hyacinth had been a vibrant young woman when he first saw her. It had been at a party given by one of his business associates who resided deep in the countryside. It wasn’t only John who had noticed how beautiful she was as it seemed every young man at that party had wanted to dance with her.

I watched her the entire night, captivated by her charm and liveliness. I had never seen a more beautiful creature in all my life.

When John met Hyacinth’s uncle that same night, it seemed to be fate. Edgar had spoken of his endeavour to find his niece a husband, and John had jumped at the chance to call such a delightful creature his wife.

I never thought I would ever fall in love again after I lost my Isabella and unborn child, but I was wrong. However, foolishly believing my young wife might grow to love me as Isabella did was wrong as well. I seem to only disgust her.

Had that not been apparent by the way Hyacinth had flinched when he had wanted to kiss her earlier today? John was twenty-two years older than his wife and had nothing in common with her. Yet, he loved her with all his being.

I know some people have whispered about my pathetic attempts to please my wife, or how unsuited we are, but I do not care in the slightest for their judgements.

When Hyacinth fell pregnant with Charlotte, John had pampered her and probably smothered her with attention and care. His wife had seemed more annoyed than pleased, but that had not lessened his need to make her feel comfortable and cherished. Hyacinth had refused for him to be present at Charlotte’s birth, so he had listened at the door awaiting the cry of his child. John could still remember his fear when complications had arisen, and the midwife had said in no uncertain terms that he should prepare for the worst.

I never prayed so hard in my life as I did that day. When she and the babe pulled through, I vowed never to touch her again.

John’s relatives often questioned him about trying for a son as he needed an heir, but he loved his wife too much to put her through such trauma again.

Charlotte is my heir, as far as I’m concerned. She’ll have all the rights my son would have had.

She may not inherit his title, but she would never be denied her birth right as his daughter. John was a wealthy man, making Charlotte a prime target for fortune hunters one day. Even if she were to marry, he would ensure she kept her inheritance to avoid greedy men from taking it.

Should anything happen to me, Hyacinth will be well taken care of.

But what if something should happen to her? John looked at the pocket watch clenched in his fist, his heart growing heavy with every tick. Half an hour had passed since Nigel had sent Pierce to look for Hyacinth and Charlotte, and despite the panic rising within him, John fought to remain positive.

“I should never have let them go. There has to be a reason why I’ve felt so uneasy for days.”

John would never forgive himself if something happened to his wife and daughter.

An hour later, Nigel appeared with Pierce, the driver’s hat in hand as he twisted it this way and that.

“Well?” John asked. “Where are they? Did you find them?”

Pierce looked at Nigel as though asking for permission. The man’s eyes were full of dread and worry; he seemed scared to speak of his news. A knot immediately formed in John’s belly as his knees grew weak.

“It is not good news, is it?” he asked. “Where are my wife and daughter?”

“Yer Grace,” the driver began, his commoner’s accent thick with fear. “I was not able to find Her Grace or Lady Russell.”

John closed his eyes, his hand going to his temple when his world grew hazy. Again? Had he lost another wife and child again? No, no, that’s not what Pierce said. There is no reason to jump to conclusions.

“Perhaps you should sit down, Your Grace,” Nigel suggested.

John shook his head, his eyes opening. “No, I’m fine. Really. Did you go to Lady Eloise’s house to see if they were there?”

“They never arrived, Yer Grace,” the driver explained. “Lady Eloise was not aware of their arrival today.”

John could hear what Pierce was saying, but he failed to understand it. “What do you mean?”

“Your Grace, the Duchess did not arrange to meet with Lady Eloise,” said Nigel. “She had to have gone somewhere else.”

“But where?!” John bellowed. “Where can a woman and child disappear to? Did you ask anyone if they had seen them? Who was the driver who took them? Did you find out any of these things?”

John watched his driver flinch, but his steward remained calm. Nigel was used to his outbursts and rarely reacted to them.

“Pierce did indeed do all these things, Your Grace,” Nigel answered. “He was not able to find anyone who had seen Her Grace pass by, although he did ask everyone he imagined could have noticed her. Only one old gentleman mentioned he might have seen the Duchess on her way to the docks.”

“The docks?” said John. “That can’t be right. Why on earth would she go there?”

The only reason a person would go to the docks, other than to work, was to board a ship. John stumbled backwards, bumping into his desk. No, no, no, no, no. There was simply no way Hyacinth would have taken his daughter and left him. But what if… The way she had said goodbye to him had seemed strangely final, but John had shrugged that off. I don’t know what’s happening, but I want my wife and daughter found.

“I want every male servant to search the whole of London and its outskirts,” he commanded. “Nigel, I would like you to enquire at the docks and find out if Hyacinth could have gone there- we must leave no stone unturned.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Nigel. “I’ll ready everyone and get going.”

It was already late afternoon, but John did not care. He wanted them found at all costs.

It took three agonising months before John found out what became of his wife and child. Hyacinth had indeed boarded a ship bound for America, but it had been caught in a violent tempest along the way. Everyone on board had perished, and John was never the same again.

Chapter One

America, 22 years later

Breakfast at the Spencer House was never a quiet affair. Madeline reached out her hand to grab a pot of jam before it landed on the floor, ruffling her little brother’s hair.

“Bailey, throwing a ball during meal-times is not allowed- you know this. Now, sit down and have your oatmeal. Would you like some honey with it?”

The seven-year-old boy grinned at her, showing his missing tooth. “Good catch, Maddy! You’re faster than Lawrence!”

Lawrence scowled at his younger brother. “At least I have all my teeth.”

Bailey’s smile died. “Maddy! He’s teasing again!”

“He’s the one that started it,” Lawrence countered, reaching for a slice of toast. “I just gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

Madeline sighed. “This is precisely why I said to leave your playtime outside the meal room, Bailey. And you, Lawrence, you should be a little nicer to your younger brother. If I remember correctly, you also went through a time of missing teeth.”

Both boys looked at her, a pink stain appearing along the top of their cheeks. Timothy, the eldest of the brothers, walked in and paused as he took in the scene.

“They were quarrelling again, weren’t they?” he asked her. “I don’t think we’ve had a peaceful breakfast or any other meal since Mother…”

The young man winced, growing quiet. Madeline felt the invisible dip in everyone’s mood as she looked at her brothers’ sombre faces. It had come as a shock to the family when their mother contracted pneumonia after a horse ride last fall. What followed next were two weeks of high emotions, fears, and tears as their mother’s condition worsened. It had been shocking and terrifying to witness their vibrant and lively mother become a shell of her former self. No one had expected pneumonia to take firm control in such a short amount of time. Madeline had been the rock of the family, comforting her brothers and father as best she could.

Although everyone had cautioned her to stay away from her mother, Madeline had not been able to. She had helped the servants nurse her mother, feeding her and emptying out the bedpans when needed. People were worried that Madeline would contract the sickness as well, but that had been the least of her worries. Fortunately, Madeline did not grow ill, remaining by her mother’s side until the end. Strangely, her mother’s last words had been ‘please, forgive me for what I did’. Madeline had assumed her mother meant contracting pneumonia, but her gut instinct had told her no, it was something else. When she wished to ask her mother what she was talking about, it was too late.

Spencer House went into mourning for at least a month, but since the household had to continue to run, Madeline had made the decision to leave her own house and take over her mother’s duties. After all, her two youngest brothers needed minding, and her father hadn’t a clue to the needs of a household. Timothy, the eldest son at eighteen, tried to pretend that he was strong and did not need anyone, but Madeline had minded him all the same.

“Cheer up, everyone,” she said. “Mama wouldn’t want us moping about. She would want to see us enjoying life. You know how she adored seizing every opportunity to live and would expect us to do the same. Why don’t we all take a seat and have our breakfast? Cook has gone to too much trouble for us not to enjoy it. Where is Papa?”

“Right here,” her father said, striding into the room. “I had some business to attend to first thing in the morning. Would you pour me some coffee, Maddy?”

“Of course, Papa,” she answered. “Did everything go well?”

“As well as can be, but let us not discuss work at the table. Where is my newspaper?”

Bailey jumped to fetch it, handing it to their father as the older man settled into his chair at the head of the table. Madeline poured the terribly bitter beverage the Spencer men loved so much, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell. Like her mother, Madeline had never been able to grow accustomed to the hot drink, preferring a good cup of tea. Her brothers often raked her over the coals about it, calling her the least patriotic person in all of America. If that means never having to see, drink, or smell that horrible black beverage, then I’ll take that title.

Blocking her nose and breathing through her mouth, she brought the coffee to her father, kissing his cheek in greeting.

“How did you sleep?” she asked. “Did the hot milk, lavender and honey help?”

Ever since her mother’s death some months ago, Madeline’s father found it challenging to get a good night’s sleep. Experience had taught her that a Spencer man on little sleep could be a handful, old or young!

“It worked like a charm,” her father admitted. “And it didn’t taste as vile as the other concoctions. Has Cook included cornbread this morning? I would like a slice with a thick spread of butter.”

Madeline observed her father closely. He appeared to be in a good mood. Perhaps the warm night drink helped better than I thought it would.

“Sausages, cornbread, omelettes, fried potatoes, and wheat muffins,” Madeline recited.

She had been up early this morning helping Cook in the kitchen. She didn’t have to, and it was in fact, frowned upon for a person of her social status, but she enjoyed doing menial tasks to take her mind off the loss of her mother. The Spencers were one of the wealthiest families in America and held much prestige in the public eye, but most people were aware of Madeline’s eccentric nature and let her be. It wasn’t odd to find her helping the stable boy with the horses or assisting Mr Hardwick in the garden. Madeline also had an animal sanctuary on her property, and was hands-on with feeding and bathing the animals.

“Delicious,” her father commented. “Timothy, I’ll need you to come with me to the offices today. You haven’t got anything planned for the day, have you?”

Even if he did, Timothy wouldn’t say so. He was the perfect sibling of the family, the one who never had a hair out of place. Madeline did not know where her brother got this nature from because the rest of them were a riot.

“I’m ready when you are, Father,” said Timothy. “Would this have to do with the gold mine?”

The older man nodded. “Partially, but we’ll discuss that on the way. Now, let us just enjoy our meal as a family, or your mother might frown down on us from where she’s watching.”

Everyone did precisely that, talking about subjects ranging from sport to plans for the day. Madeline decided that this was the time to tell her family she was returning to her own house by the end of the week.

When Madeline first put forth the idea of having her own house some years ago, it was immediately met with opposition from her father. He expected her to remain with them until she married, but at the age of twenty-two, Madeline had not seen that happening. Every suitor who had ever expressed an interest in her had done so on account of either her inheritance or beauty. Sometimes both. However, when she would speak about her interests and the like, they would talk over Madeline or inform her that as their wife, she would not need to worry about such things. That was probably the worst thing they could say to her!

As a result, she was now twenty-five and unmarried. Some relatives used the word spinster, yet when Madeline asked what they call an unmarried forty-year-old man, they would say ‘bachelor.’ It was all unfair, to say the least. Mama did not mind my unmarried state. She encouraged me to marry for love and not anything else. Mama always said life was too short to have an unhappy marriage.

“Papa, now that things are relatively back to normal, I think I should return home,” said Madeline, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

The table went still, but she continued to butter her muffin, carefully spreading the creamy fat on.

“I thought you were coming back to live with us,” Lawrence remarked. “Now that Mama is gone, we need someone to take care of us.”

“Who is going to do everything Mama did?” Bailey whined.

Madeline ignored her brothers, looking at her father’s blank face. Why wasn’t he saying anything? She had already made her mind up, but she at least wanted him to say something.

“When did you decide this?” he finally asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it for some days now,” Madeline confessed. “I’ve neglected my own household for far too long. Not that I haven’t enjoyed being here with all of you,” she quickly added. “I just have my own life to live and responsibilities to see to.”

Namely returning to her writing and seeing to her animals. Her family had no idea that Madeline was a writer and had written several women’s fiction books under the name AS Rossouw, and published a few reports against slavery in the south. If people were to discover that AS Rossouw was indeed Madeline Spencer, it might impact her father’s business. That would be far too scandalous for our kind.

“Why not move back home?” Timothy asked. “That way, you would have fewer responsibilities and be here where you’re needed most. It’s been great having you back, Maddy.”

Her brothers were trying to make her feel guilty, but Madeline would not give in to their pleas.

“It’s been wonderful being home with everyone, but I’ve got my own life to live now. You understand that, right, Papa?”

The Spencer patriarch sighed, sitting back in his seat. “I must admit that I hoped you would stay, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep you from living your own life. When do you plan to leave?”

“But, Papa-!” Bailey protested.

Their father held his hand up, silencing the boy. “Hush, Bailey. Your sister is old enough to make her own decisions without interference from any of you.”

Everyone grew quiet and resumed eating, but Madeline’s brothers kept shooting her pleading looks. If it were up to them, she would never leave the house, but that wouldn’t be fair on her.

“Perhaps you can sort out your mother’s belongings before you go,” her father suggested. “See if there is anything you would like before they’re put away in the attic. I’ve moved everything to her private parlour.”

Madeline had put off doing that very thing as it seemed so final. Although they all knew their mother wasn’t coming back, sorting through her belongings seemed to be closing a chapter they wanted very much to stay open. However, Madeline knew it was necessary.

“I’ll do it after breakfast,” she promised.

I’ll probably have to bring all my handkerchiefs to mop up my tears.

Madeline handed her abigail another scarf, amused by how many her mother had owned.

“How many is that now?” she asked. “There must be over twenty scarves in that trunk by now!”

“Twenty-three,” Rebecca replied.

Madeline whistled low. “Mama sure had a love of scarves. I have ten, and they serve me well. What’s next?”

They had been going through her mother’s personal belongings for the last two hours and had managed to clear away half of the mountain in the parlour. Madeline had set a few things aside, including two old stuffed bears she recalled from her childhood.

“We can go through these papers for a change from clothing,” Rebecca suggested.

Madeline grimaced. “I was actually hoping to avoid that entire box altogether, but we might as well get it over and done with.”

Rebecca pushed the heavy box over to Madeline, blowing out a puff of air when she was done.

“I really don’t know what your mother has in this box,” Rebecca commented. “It feels like more than just papers.”

Madeline chuckled. “Or you’re just not strong enough. I have told you to come walking with me in the mornings, and spend a little more time in the garden, but you absolutely refuse to.”

Rebecca was on the heavy side due to her love of sweets and hated any excessive exercise. Perhaps I’ve been too soft on her, but she’s one of the closest people in my life. Fiona would likely not be too impressed with her daughter’s lack of hearty work. Fiona- her mother’s abigail- had passed away two years before. She had had the thickest English accent Madeline had ever heard and had insisted on doing all things English despite living in America. Sometimes, Madeline’s mother would take on that same accent, amusing Madeline. Mama certainly was a character.

“Let’s not talk about exercise right now,” Rebecca pleaded. “I’m doing enough as it is moving these boxes about. Hand me a few papers to quicken the pace.”

Madeline scooped several out, plonking them in Rebecca’s apron. “There. That should keep you busy for a little while.”

The two women fell into companionable silence as they read each paper, setting them up in piles depending on their nature. Before long, Madeline came across a group of envelopes tied together with twine. Intrigued, she unwound them, picking up one dated 1794 with a British stamp.

“Twenty-three years ago,” she mumbled. “What would my mother be doing with letters addressed to someone in England?”

The letters were addressed to The Duchess of Claverset, and yet here they were in America. Madeline found that odd to say the least. Could they have had something to do with Fiona? That was the only person Madeline personally knew had come from England.

“What do you have there?” Rebecca asked. “You appear puzzled.”

“I have a bunch of letters addressed to a woman called The Duchess Claverset, residing in England.”

“Read the sender’s address,” Rebecca suggested, her curiosity piqued. “Perhaps it’ll give you a better clue.”

Madeline turned the envelope over, surprised when she saw an American address. In fact, the address belonged to her great aunt and uncle. What on earth was the connection here, and why did her mother have the letters?

“It seems these letters were sent by Aunt Clothilde and Uncle Morris, but somehow they wound up with Mama.”

“Read them,” Rebecca pressed. “Perhaps you’ll get more information.”

“Yes, you’re quite right.”

Madeline opened the oldest letter, her brow knitting together the further down the page she went. Her great aunt and uncle spoke of their happiness at reuniting with a woman called Hyacinth, which Madeline assumed was the Duchess. I’ve never met a duchess before. I suppose if she’s related to Aunt Clothilde and Uncle Morris, she’s related to me. It was odd how no one had ever mentioned this relative. Had she died?

Madeline read letter after letter until the nature of them began to change and became more urgent. It seemed plans were made for the woman to escape with her daughter.

“Charlotte,” Madeline whispered. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

Eventually, Madeline got to the last letter and found herself disappointed. Surely there had to be something else to explain what the letters contained. Perhaps I should ask Aunt Clothilde about them.

Digging deeper into the box, Madeline fished out an old diary. It had the name ‘Hyacinth Russell’ on the front, further confusing Madeline. Why would Mama have this woman’s diary? Dusting it, Madeline broke off the rusty lock and began reading. The first thing that jumped out at her was the uncanny similarities between her mother’s handwriting and that of this duchess. Madeline read about the woman marrying a man twenty-two years her senior and how unhappy she was. There was a lift in spirits when the woman’s child was born, but it didn’t last.

“Poor woman. She clearly hated her marriage.”

“Did you say something?” Rebecca asked.

“Just talking about this woman I’ve come across. Hyacinth Russell. She was- or is- the Duchess of Claverset. I’ve never met a duchess before. I wonder if she lives right here in America, and we don’t know it. The letters I’ve read seem to suggest it, but I’ve yet to meet her.”

“Have you read the entire diary?” Rebecca asked. “Maybe it’ll give more information.”

Madeline nodded, flipping the pages of the diary for the next ten minutes. One particular entry stopped her cold.

Charlie and I will assume different identities on the ship. I no longer wish to be known as Hyacinth Russell or the Duchess of Claverset. Hopefully, this will throw John off our scent. Fiona and Becca have gone ahead to the ship. Charlie and I will meet them later.

Fiona and Becca? Towards the bottom of the page, Madeline read the words:

Hyacinth Russell- Francesca Powell

Charlotte Russell- Madeline Powell

Madeline dropped the diary, her features fixed in horror. “This cannot be!”

Rebecca jumped to her feet with surprising speed and made her way over. “What has happened?”

Madeline merely shook her head, unable to say a word. What did the diary mean? It cannot be true! But the evidence was too significant for her to ignore.

Rebecca took the diary, reading the same entry. “Oh my,” she breathed. “This explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?” Madeline demanded. “What do you know about this?”

“Not much, I assure you,” said Rebecca. “It’s only that Mama used to speak about England a lot. She told me stories about a duchess and her daughter, who ran away from home to live in a new world. Mama said she used to work for the Duchess in England before she came to America. When I asked what became of the Duchess and her daughter, she refused to say anything. I always thought it strange. A story should have an ending, but this one never did. Sometimes, I would have dreams of being in another land, and I would see faces I’ve never met before. Mama would tell me to forget about the dreams, but I never could. Now I see why.”

Madeline clutched her swimming head. “No, no, no, no! There has to be a mistake, Becca! None of this is true- it cannot be.”

Rebecca shrugged, handing the diary back to her. “I don’t know, Maddy. It all seems quite clear.”

Madeline narrowed her eyes. “Why aren’t you surprised by any of this? We have just found out that everything we have known has been a lie!”

Did Rebecca know more than she was letting on? Madeline wanted to scream, to throw something- anything! And yet Rebecca stood before her as calm as the sea on a sunny day.

“I am surprised,” the woman insisted. “But some part of me expected this. I suppose Mama was preparing me for this very moment by telling me all the stories. She would always tell me that whatever she did, she did for the betterment of all involved, that I should not grow angry. I finally understand what she meant.”

Madeline closed her eyes as she shook her head. “There has to be a mistake, Becca. There must be. What am I supposed to do about this? I do not know what I’m supposed to think! I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

Never did she think something like this would ever happen! Madeline lifted her hands and found them trembling. Whether it was from shock or anger, she did not know. What was she supposed to do about this life-altering information?

“Papa!” she exclaimed. “What will he say to all this? How could Mama…”

Wait a moment. The diary stated Madeline was three when she left England, that meant her father knew something about her mother’s past. Or did Mama lie to him as well? There was only one way to find out. Madeline got to her feet and made her way to the drawing-room. Her father had arrived a little while ago and would be having a little brandy. Good, he’s going to need it.

“Where are you going?!” said Rebecca, breathing heavily behind her as she tried to keep up with Madeline.

“My father- I need to know if he knew about this.” Madeline stopped outside the door, turning to her abigail. “Don’t come in with me, Becca. I need to be alone with him.”

Rebecca nodded. “Of course, but do not give into hysterics. Let him explain himself first.”

Madeline said nothing. She could not give a promise she didn’t feel capable of giving. Instead, she turned away and knocked on the door, waiting for her father’s permission to enter.

“Come in!” she heard him say.

Madeline walked in, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “Are you my father?”

Her father frowned, laying aside the book he had been reading. “What do you mean? What sort of question is that?”

“Are you my father, or is John Russell my father? Or should I say, the Duke of Claverset?”

The man’s face whitened. “How did you find out?”

“So it is true?” Madeline asked, sinking heavily into a chair. “You knew about this?”

Betrayal knocked into her like a fast-moving carriage, taking the breath out of her. Somehow, she had foolishly hoped the entire thing was just a misunderstanding, but that hope had just gone down in flames.

“You were never supposed to find out, Maddy,” her father insisted, his head hung.

“But I did, and now I’m faced with my entire life being one great lie. I can’t believe you and Mama kept this from me.” She was almost in tears.

Her father bowed his head, running his fingers through his hair. “It was for your own good, child. Your mother couldn’t risk anyone finding out you were both here. She was terrified the Duke would find her and drag you both back to England.”

“Don’t you mean my real father?” Madeline asked quietly.

Richard Spencer was not really her father, was he? Another stranger was, but she knew nothing about him.

The man winced. “That doesn’t make me any less of your father. From the moment I saw you, I adored you and never hesitated in calling you my own daughter.”

Madeline knew he was right. Her father had showered her with love, and not once had she felt ‘different.’ But that doesn’t make any of this right. They lied to me. Not wanting to hear anymore, she stood up.

“I’ll be in my room.”

“Maddy-” her father started.

Madeline held up her hand. “Please, I do not wish to speak about this right now.”

She needed to first come to terms with everything. Her father nodded and watched her leave the room.

In the following weeks, Madeline tried to continue with her life as best as she could, but the knowledge of living a life in England before coming to America played on her mind. Finally, when she could no longer ignore the facts of her previous life, she broke surprising news to her family over dinner.

“I’m going to England,” she announced.

Her brothers and father turned wide eyes to her, their knives and forks clattering to their plates.

“You don’t mean that,” her father said weakly. “All your family is here, Maddy. I don’t care about blood or anything like that, you hear? You are as much a Spencer as I am. Don’t go back to the very country your mother took you away from. You must know she did everything for your own good.”

Madeline had heard this argument time and time again, and although she was no longer angry with her mother, she still had many unanswered questions.

“I need to find out about my family in England, Papa. I will not rest until I know about my past. I promise I’ll come back once I have all my answers.”

“Don’t leave us, Maddy,” said Bailey. “You’ll be gone for months! Maybe even years! Mama is gone, and now you…We don’t want you to go. What about Lemony, Hippocrates, and Tally? They’ll miss you, too.”

The boy ducked his face as his eyes watered, angrily spooning soup into his mouth.

“Oh, Bailey, it’s only for a little while. I’ll be back in time for Christmas- I promise. I’ll take Lemony, Hippocrates, and Tally with me so you won’t have to worry about them missing me.”

Madeline’s heart sunk when her brother pushed his chair back and ran out of the room. She stood up to follow him, but Timothy stopped her.

“I’ll handle it, Maddy.”

Madeline nodded, sinking back to her seat. Lawrence soon followed his older brother, avoiding her eyes.

“Oh, dear. They’re all rather angry.”

“I don’t blame them,” said her father. “There’s nothing for you in England. Stay here where you belong.”

But Madeline had made up her mind. She was going to England whether they liked it or not.

---

“A Lady’s Romantic Journey” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Madeline Spencer, a high-spirited young woman, has her life turned upside down when she discovers a shocking truth about her past. The man she thought to be her father proves to actually not be her birth one, so she sets on a journey across the world to explore her past. Her troubles do not end with her discovering she is the daughter of an english duke, as his closest -and very charming- confidant is doubting her identity. To her surprise, the Viscount seeks to remove her from the duke’s life, but unfortunately for him, she is not one to give up easily. As she retraces her mother’s steps and repeatedly runs into the very man she would rather avoid, she finds herself strangely intrigued by the insufferable Viscount. Could this be just a coincidence or is it fate? Can she look past his interference and allow her budding feelings for him to fully blossom?

Gregory Montgomery, Viscount of Blithely, has had his hands full taking care of his mother and sisters and is looking forward to finally concentrating on his own life. Little did he know that a beautiful American woman, claiming to be the Duke’s daughter, would add a twist to this life… Despite his apparent desire to get rid of her, as he believes the duke’s real daughter has perished at sea, Gregory seems incapable of denying her company. Everytime he sees her, he finds himself taken aback by this unstoppable force of a woman, and this irks him to no end. When he begins to doubt his initial belief about her, Gregory finds himself at a crossroad: he must either let his heart trust the woman he just met or protect the man he has looked up to for years…

With so many obstacles to overcome, they find themselves at a heart-breaking dead end. Madeline is driven by her determination of proving the truth, but Gregory is blinded by his sense of righteousness. Will their love survive the encounter of their contrasting motives? Will they be able to put everything aside and be together, or will their pride keep them apart?

“A Lady’s Romantic Journey” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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