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Chapter One
“Blood is thicker than water?” Marianne muttered with a snort. “Is that Papa’s reasoning for everything?”
She kicked a small stone out of her way and watched it sail through the air and land in the grass. She wished she could kick some sense into her father’s head. Nothing too painful. Just a swift kick to make him see how wrong he was.
“Calm down, Mary,” her younger brother insisted. “You’ve been muttering that since we left the house. You wouldn’t want to return to Penmare in this condition. What would the housekeeper say? She’ll likely scold you and tell you that you cannot serve the Liltons in this state. A maid must always have a smile on her face. Is that not what you always say?”
Marianne shot him an unimpressed look. “Are you saying that because you’re worried I’ll lose my position at Penmare Manor? Thereby being unable to pay for the life you and our family have grown accustomed to?”
She earned a modest wage, which, together with the small amounts of rent from those who used a portion of their land, made her family’s life relatively comfortable for commoners. Unfortunately, their insistence on living beyond their means consistently left them with no savings whatsoever for a rainy day.
“No,” James quickly assured her. “It’s just that I know you enjoy working there. You wouldn’t want to lose your job simply because you were in a bad mood. Do not let your argument with Papa ruin your day or worse. It’s not worth it.”
Her younger brother’s words had some merit. Marianne enjoyed working at Penmare Manor, but at the end of the day, being a maid was not her first choice. Her dream was to become a seamstress, but taking care of her family had pushed those hopes aside. Now, they wanted to take even more from her by making her marry Zacharia Kane, a local baker who fancied her. The worst thing was that they wanted her to marry him not because they wanted to secure her future with a man who could provide for her but because her older brother, Peter, was in debt.
“I know you’re upset,” James continued, “but being so incensed doesn’t change the situation.” He adjusted her bag on his shoulder. “Just consider what Papa said. We really need your help. Those men that came to the house the other day looked dangerous. Peter really made a mess this time.”
“And now I must clean up after him?” she cried, her voice rising with growing anger. “I am his sister, not his maid! As the eldest son, he should be the one taking care of the family, not getting into trouble.”
Marianne sighed, suddenly tired of the entire ordeal. She spent her free day with her family, only for them to try to back her into a corner with their demands. It wasn’t fair that their first solution was to marry her off to the baker, and in return, he would pay off the debt. Peter should stop being lazy and get a job instead of wasting money at gambling halls.
“But you’re the most responsible one out of us all,” James pointed out. “Peter has barely worked a full year in his life, Hannah has never lifted a finger to help anyone, and Thomas and I are still too young to do much. You’re the only one we can turn to.”
Marianne scoffed. “Whose fault is that? Certainly not mine!”
She was the middle child and the one her parents had paid the least attention to. Their neglect made her self-sufficient, and she learned to take care of herself from a young age. Little did she know that her ability to thrive would lead to looking after the family.
“No, it’s not your fault,” James agreed. “But you know that if you don’t marry Zacharia, they’ll hurt Peter or worse. They might even harm other members of the family. Also, Zacharia really likes you and has for some time. Would marrying him be so terrible?”
Marianne’s hands clenched into fists. She wanted to pummel her brother’s chest and tell him to stop heaping troubles on her head. He offered to walk her to Penmare Manor so she wouldn’t be alone after the heated argument with her father, but it seemed he had ulterior motives.
“If you think like the others, then you better give me my bag and return home,” she snapped, holding out her hand. “I do not need your fake concern.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” she interrupted. “Give me my bag and go home. I will not repeat myself.”
James sighed and hung his head. He wordlessly handed her the measly little bag of belongings over, tucked his hands into his pockets, and turned away. Marianne experienced a little guilt for being so short with her brother, but instead of being on her side, he was only worried about avoiding trouble with the men who were after Peter. It wasn’t her fault that her older brother got into debt at a gambling hall! They couldn’t possibly expect her to marry the baker when she felt nothing for him. Zacharia was as thick-headed as the Liltons’ cook’s dense tea cake and unable to understand that not all women aspired to become wives and mothers. Some had dreams and wishes that had nothing to do with having a family.
Speaking of the tea cake, she could do with the dense goodness of juicy and fat yellow and black raisins soaked overnight in brandy-infused tea, combined with nuts, cherries, and flour to create a delicious concoction that made its way to the Liltons’ table at least three times a week. Sometimes, when Marianne was lucky, Lady Penmare would leave a slice behind for her to quickly stuff in her mouth when no one was looking. Marianne smiled. There were undoubtedly some perks to being a first-tier maid, but they weren’t always enough to put up with Lady Penmare’s daughter’s tantrums. More often than not, she preferred to be a second-tier maid, but there was no changing the housekeeper’s mind once a maid reached the first tier.
The first, second, third, and fourth tiers—all levels of servants present in the household—were a way for the butler and housekeeper to maintain a high level of service. The first tier earned the most and handled all the front rooms, the second tier cleaned the rarely noticed areas, the third tier was the kitchen staff (excluding the cooks), and the fourth was the laundry maids. Marianne began at Penmare Manor as a laundry maid and quickly rose to the first tier through sheer hard work and a need to support her needy and lazy family.
“Yet this is how they repay me!” she yelled, kicking another stone.
She immediately regretted her actions. This stone was bigger than the last one and had scuffed her shoe a little. Marianne couldn’t afford to damage her shoes because there was no telling when she could buy a new pair. Whatever little she scraped together was used to purchase fabric pieces to create dresses from her visionary journal. She was a seamstress at heart and a very talented one at that. Her dream was to open her own modiste shop and sew dresses that even the queen would gush over. She wanted to dress ladies in the finest garments tailored to enhance their feminine beauty as modestly or immodestly as they wished—she didn’t mind either way. Unfortunately, that dream was set aside when her family began demanding more and making her feel guilty about being unable to give more. She wasn’t even the eldest in the house!
Marianne paused and tilted her head back to stare at the clear blue sky. She focused on her breathing rather than the panic rising at the base of her neck and slowly engulfing her head. The eldest sibling—Peter—recently took to gambling and grew too cocky after a good running. The idiot didn’t realize that the gambling hall had likely allowed him to win a little money, only to make him lose it and more. He currently owed fifty-two pounds to a group of dangerous men. Marianne didn’t even know what fifty-two pounds looked like! Her wages could never cover that debt, so they wanted her to marry Zacharia. Apparently, the baker offered to pay the debt in exchange for Marianne’s hand.
It wasn’t the first time the twenty-eight-year-old had expressed his interest, but her parents initially didn’t pay him much attention. However, with Peter’s debt looming over their heads, they wished to sell her off and save him. Marianne was only twenty—under the age of legal consent. Her parents were within their rights to agree to the match.
“Peter should get a kick to his rear end for putting us in this situation,” she cried angrily. “I should do it for him and gain the satisfaction. Him? A golden child?”
She snorted. The golden child was supposed to be beautiful, intelligent, and talented. Peter was none of these things. Some women might find him handsome, but he was indeed a fool who couldn’t keep a job. Whenever he was fired, he blamed his employer and failed to mention his shortcomings. Tardiness, unwillingness to work hard, loose tongue, and a need to flirt with every woman within a mile radius. Marianne was surprised no one had come to her family claiming they were with child—his child.
Hannah, the second eldest, was no better. She was pretty and depended on her looks to get by in life. It was too bad that her fiancé ran off with her best friend and was nowhere to be found. Marianne was the next sibling, followed by Thomas and James—twins both in school but doing terribly because they refused to study. Marianne wanted to secure them an apprenticeship for the following year, but she was afraid they would blacken her name with their self-entitled behavior. Marianne couldn’t understand how commoners could possess as much pride as an aristocrat. It was maddening, really.
“Good thoughts, good thoughts, good thoughts,” she muttered, massaging her temples.
Marianne imagined herself sitting in the corner of Lady Penmare’s garden and sketching a new design. Of course, it was during her free time—usually around her afternoon break—and when no one was around to look over her shoulder. Lady Penmare was kind enough to give Marianne all her used art supplies, so she had a selection of paints to bring her creations to life. Deep reds, loud blues, alluring purples, calming greens, and more graced the pages of her journal, revealing dresses, gowns, and accessories that could rival any modiste in fashionable London and Bath. She just needed one chance to show everyone how talented she was. However, if she had been gifted, she would have had some success by now. She wouldn’t be stuck as a maid needing to take care of her family.
Marianne had asked for work in most of the well-known modistes in the country, but they all refused her because she lacked experience. They wouldn’t even look at her designs or give her a task to test her abilities. They simply took one look at her and decided she wasn’t worth their time. Moments like those made her question her abilities and worth as a seamstress. Not even her parents supported her dreams, but that was mainly due to selfishness. She earned good wages at Penmare Manor, so they couldn’t afford to let her leave to pursue her dreams.
Marianne released another heartfelt sigh. No matter how angry she was with her family, she couldn’t allow them to suffer. Zacharia’s proposal couldn’t be her only option, though. It just couldn’t.
She paused in front of a tree and wagged her finger. “Do this, Wife,” she said in a deep voice. “Cook my food, clean my house, give me children, wash my dirty laundry, fold my clean laundry, let my family walk over you because you are simply a child-bearing maid in this household.”
She snorted and planted her hands on her hips. She was already a maid and didn’t intend to become one in her own home. It was one thing to take care of her home, but another to be treated like it was the only thing she was good for. She was more than what she could do for others.
Adjusting her little bag of belongings, she jogged up the little hill before her because strolling on an incline made her calves burn. Marianne was fit and walked often, but she hated overexerting herself when she didn’t need to. Strolling up a hill was undoubtedly too much work.
She quickly reached the top and paused to look around. She could see Penmare Manor, part of the river that ran through the estate, and a few houses scattered between farmlands. A cluster of woods bordered one side of the estate and continued to the road, offering shade to anyone walking along. Since it was winter, Marianne preferred to have the sun shine on as much skin as possible and…
“What is that?” she murmured.
A rather large bundle of what appeared to be a bulky coat lay on the grass just inside the woods. It didn’t make sense for anyone to throw away their belongings unless something was wrong with them. One of the maids at the estate once threw a pillow out the window because she saw a spider. She was promptly scolded and demoted to the second tier without hesitation, warning the other maids to keep their fears to themselves.
Marianne approached the bundle out of curiosity, only to see it had limbs. It wasn’t just clothing but a person! That made her pause. She didn’t understand why anyone would wish to sleep in such an odd place, especially when it was cold.
“Probably drunk,” she muttered.
It wouldn’t be the first time she had found a drunk person sleeping on the side of the road, but that was usually during the warmer months. They had a tavern near her home where the locals congregated daily and momentarily forgot their worries. The problem was that many of them took it too far and grew mind-numbing drunk, stumbling around like calves just birthed.
“Oh, goodness,” she said with a sigh.
She couldn’t just leave the person there, but she was in no mood to deal with someone who could hardly stand and might just empty the contents of their belly at her feet. Marianne could handle many things, but that was a definite limit. Just the thought of it made her dry heave.
“Please, please, please do not be covered in the curdled remains of your belly,” she begged as she cautiously inched further.
She continued talking to herself, a habit she developed when she began speaking. Her parents grew worried that people would think she was mad and tried to deter her, but their efforts never worked. Talking to herself cleared Marianne’s head, put her thoughts in order, and kept her amused. In a household of seven people, it was easy for one’s voice to get lost when others wanted to be heard, so she was her own best friend and confidant.
As Marianne drew closer, she waited for the wave of alcoholic fumes to reach where she stood just feet away from the figure on the ground, but she smelled nothing besides nature. She inched even closer, lifted her head to sniff the air, and still came up with nothing. Most people reeked of alcohol after a night of drinking, but a few were fortunate enough to not smell. She happened to be one of those people. Not that she had ever been drunk, but she once consumed enough alcohol to grow tipsy and wake up with a headache the following day. That was the first and last time, but oddly, no one was aware of her slightly inebriated state because she didn’t smell awful or look terrible. Marianne assumed her habit of drinking tea and chewing on herbs throughout the day kept horrible smells at bay.
Moments later, she was finally close enough to tell the stranger was a man. She nudged him with her foot, but he didn’t stir.
“Mister,” she said. “You cannot sleep here. You’ll grow ill in this weather. It might not be snowing yet, but it’s cold enough to freeze your fingers off. You need those, don’t you? Mister?”
She frowned. Marianne was sure she was loud enough to wake the dead, and her nudges were not soft but a little jarring. Drunk people tended to sleep like the dead, so some force was necessary. She gasped as a terrifying thought came to mind. He could be dead. Marianne stepped back.
“Mister?”
He was facing the forest, so she couldn’t see his face, and he was bundled up in a rather thick coat, so she couldn’t tell if he was breathing. But she should be able to see him breathing because sleeping people breathe deeply, and ill or injured people breathe shallowly. She sighed and held her head for a moment. She would have to turn him over.
“Do not be dead, do not be dead,” she whispered.
She slowly bent down and reached for him but quickly pulled back. Finding someone to help her would make her life easier, but her conscience would plague her to no end. She had to see what was wrong with the man before making any other decisions.
Marianne released a squeal of discomfort and quickly turned the man over, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth to stop the scream rising in her throat. His lips were blue, and his skin was terribly pale. He appeared dead, but she couldn’t be certain. She wet her finger and held it by his nose. A slight, warm gust of air blew against the wet finger. He was alive. She was both relieved and worried about her discovery. Concern for the man led her to kneel on the cold ground and put her hands in his coat to investigate his body for injuries.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” she told him. “I have brothers, so I’ll just imagine you’re one of them.”
She inspected his chest, arms, and legs and steered clear of everything else. Marianne found nothing concerning, but something was undoubtedly wrong with the man. She sat back on her heels and placed her hands on her thighs. He wasn’t responsive, and she certainly couldn’t carry him around. The closest house was in Penmare Manor, so she had no choice but to leave him and call for help.
“Just hold on a little longer, mister,” she said, rising.
The weather was bitingly cold, so she removed her coat and covered him with it. She wore a thinner one underneath and immediately felt the cold, but the man needed it more. Securing her belongings, she took off on a run and headed to the estate through a shortcut. It was good that she was accustomed to running around, or she would have been out of breath before reaching the halfway mark. To her luck, she spotted Lord Penmare riding his horse in the fields. He could arrange for servants to help the unconscious man much quicker than she would. The words of a woman were sometimes disregarded or not seen as worth attention. Marianne hated that about the world she lived in.
“My lord!” she cried, running toward him. “My lord!”
Lord Penmare frowned and turned toward her. “Marianne?”
Marianne reached him and blew out a gust of air. She hadn’t run that fast in a while, and certainly not over uneven ground. Still, she was nimble and young, with limbs strengthened from years of manual labor.
“Why were you running like that?” he asked.
“My lord, I was on my way here when I found an unconscious man on the side of the road,” she explained. “He’s breathing, and I cannot find an injury on him, but there’s something undoubtedly wrong with him. He’s not drunk,” she added. “Just ill or injured internally. He’s deathly pale, so he must have been there for several hours.”
Lord Penmare’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Indeed? Goodness! Did you say on the side of the road?”
She nodded. “He’s in the woods, but only just. You cannot miss him.”
Lord Penmare looked behind him briefly. “I’ll have one of the servants bring the wagon,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “I’ll return to him and keep watch until you arrive. I’ll reach him quicker through the shortcut. The wagon will have to use the road—the shortcut isn’t wide enough.”
“Yes, of course,” her employer replied. “Go ahead—we’ll see you in a moment.”
Marianne nodded and set off running again. It was more exercise than she intended on her day off, but it was for a good cause. She reached the unconscious man moments before Lord Penmare arrived with the servants and carefully placed him on the back of a wagon. She was ordered to climb in and sit beside him to ensure he remained breathing. He was promptly taken to the butler’s cottage and placed in a spare room while someone left to call the physician at Lord Penmare’s insistence.
“You should take care of him for now, Marianne,” her employer said. “You have some experience, yes?”
He spoke of her brief experience working for a physician in another town. Unfortunately, the old man took a liking to her and tried to turn her into his mistress despite already being married, so she made an excuse about returning home and took off.
“Yes, I can help,” she said. “But I’ll need to report to Mrs. Howard to let her know I have arrived.”
“I’ll inform Mrs. Howard and have her reduce your duties so you can care for this young man,” said Lord Penmare. “I wonder how he came to be in this condition? I hope he is able to recover, but we’ll know for certain once the physician sees him.”
Marianne nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” her employer said and left the room.
The male servants had removed the unconscious man’s damp clothing while she was out of the room and put him in clean clothing, and now, as she carefully wiped his hands and face with warm water, she really took a good look at him. He was rather handsome and pretty, a combination not often seen. His chiseled jawline was all male, but his full, plump lips and small button nose were decidedly female. This man likely had women and men chasing after him.
“I wonder who you are and where you come from,” she said, gently dabbing his brow. “Your family must be looking for you, or perhaps you do not have a family. You should wake up and tell us, yes?”
He remained still, but she expected that. Tucking in the covers a little more tightly around him, she picked a few twigs out of his hair and sat down to wait for the physician.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Whispers of Regency Love", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello my dears, I hope you enjoyed the preview of my new book, it holds a special place in my heart! I will be waiting for your comments here, they mean so much to me! Thank you. 🙂