Seductive Lies (Secret Lives Series) (5 page)

“Do you think me mad?” Harriet asked.

“No, my child. I believe this…this ability was given to you for a purpose. What purpose…I don’t know. It will be yours to discover. Though, I would listen to your grandfather. People fear what they don’t understand.”

Harriet had not needed to be reminded. The looks and whispers from that incident never faded. She understood well the need to keep her visions to herself. She had never told Arthur. There had not been a need…until now.

The ring he had given her wasn’t what it seemed. Arthur told her it had been his mother’s, but how did Arthur’s mother have a ring connected to Meriwether Carlisle?

* * * *

The
morning dawned. Harriet found her spirits lifted with the sun. The dark thoughts of the night were momentarily forgotten. She had a full day ahead of her with the alterations needed for her London gowns. She needed the diversion. Otherwise, she would lament she had not heard from Arthur in a few weeks.

She had
been warned such would be her life while Arthur served in His Majesty’s Navy. Communication was slow at best. Ships rarely docked and the rendezvous with the ships scheduled as needed. Harriet had played down Arthur’s warning that it might be up to two years before his return to English soil. Two years! However would she survive!

She
slipped out of bed and readied herself. Her aunt had promised to have her a lady's maid by the time she departed for London. Until then, Harriet dressed herself as had been her habit.

Harriet
exited her room and walked toward her grandmother’s chamber. Since her grandfather passed away, her grandmother rarely left her room. The elderly lady’s mind rambled with incoherent thoughts. It began before her grandfather’s death, but seemed to have only worsened. At times, she didn’t recognize Harriet.

Her grandmother had been the only mother she had ever known. She had been much different back when Harriet was younger…vivacious, energetic, and so animated when she talked and she loved to talk. Harriet’s fondest memories growing up were of sitting and listening to her grandmother talk…for hours on end.

Harriet loved to hear stories of her father and took them all to heart. Without question, her father had been her grandmother’s favorite son. Handsome, valiant, brave, Major Henry Burke had been a highly decorated officer. He had done his family proud…until the scandal.

Her grandmother was Harriet’s protector, hiding her from her aunt’s wrath when needed…which was more often than Harriet would care to admit.

“Harriet,” her grandmother would say. “You are going to have to learn not to irritate your aunt so. But while you are here, why don’t you sit down and I’ll call for some tea. It will do you well to learn how to pour.”

That was how it was. Her grandmother would never openly talk bad
ly about her daughter-in-law, but subtle things…things that Harriet well understood even at a young age…told Harriet that her grandmother cared little about the woman.

Harriet didn’t know why she irritated her aunt so…well…perhaps she did. Did not her aunt continually harp upon the fact her parents tarnished the
Burkes’ good name. The nerve!

Harriet pondered her aunt’s reaction to the sequence of
 unfortunate events that unfolded after her marriage. How disillusioned her aunt must have been with the scandal and taint to the Burkes’ name.
A stain that could not be erased
as she so often told Harriet.

Harriet could only imagine her aunt’s reaction, not for the tragedy that encompassed the affair, but for the loss of status in the eyes of the
ton
. Her aunt’s hopes dashed so quickly…she had been married less than a year when the events played out.

To overcome so many obstacles in her life and finally marry gentry, the former Miss
Constance Palfrey had to have been disheartened. Not that Harriet considered her uncle a catch, but she supposed that in the eyes of the world around her, Walter Burke would be deemed a favorable match.

At the time, her uncle was a young widower with three young children, having lost his first wife after the birth of Bessie. The future squire of Beebe Manor needed a wife worthy of his position. The former
Constance Palfrey came from a respectable family, a descendant of the infamous Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of England on her mother’s side.

Miss
Constance Palfrey’s life had not been carefree. At an early age, her father, Captain Silas Palfrey, deserted his family for his mistress and moved to Nova Scotia to begin a whaling station.

Left to fend for her family,
Constance’s mother used her connections to set up a prominent girls’ school. When she had come of age, Constance became headmistress. Long considered on the shelf, Constance was introduced to Harriet’s uncle while he was on holiday in Bath. He wed her shortly afterwards and brought his bride back to Beebe Manor.

Not prone to emotions, her aunt was a rather tall woman. Painfully thin with no figure to speak of,
she had an elongated face with deep receding dark eyes that would never allow her aunt to be considered a beauty. Harsh and prim in her manner, her large hands had more than once backhanded Harriet when Harriet spoke her mind. The sting taught Harriet not to counter her aunt’s remarks, but did little to contain Harriet’s spirit.

Despite her aunt’s enmity towards her, Harriet was
greatly indulged by her grandparents. Harriet gave no thought of being ignored by her aunt and uncle until her grandfather’s death. Then everything changed.

The estate suffered under her uncle’s guidance. Whereas her
grandfather connected to the land and the people, her uncle seemed incompetent in the affairs of running an estate. It did not take long for Beebe Manor to fall into a state of disrepair. Beebe Manor’s crumbling walls did little to discourage the financial demands placed upon the estate.

Her aunt’s finery had not suffered
, nor had her cousins’, Clarissa and Bessie. Her aunt seemed obsessed with her daughters making a great match, one deemed worthy of their
station in life
. Harriet hadn’t been included in this obsession.

Harriet could not remember the last time she herself had a
new gown before her engagement. After her grandfather’s death, she had taken the gowns no longer worn by her cousin, Bessie, who, despite being only a year older than Harriet, was of the same stature, and the gowns needed little alterations.

The disdain of her aunt towards Harriet had not
carried over to her cousins. Moreover, Harriet enjoyed their company. Poor Clarissa could no more please her mother than Harriet herself. The poor thing had suffered through three Seasons without a hint of an offer. Then to the dismay of her aunt, Bessie’s debut this last Season produced no acceptable results. Not that either cousin was distasteful to look upon, but neither were great beauties and without a fortune, it left little chance of an acceptable match in the eyes of Aunt Constance.

A
Season for Harriet had never been mentioned, nor had Harriet expected to have been included…not after her grandfather’s death. She dreamed of love, but dared not hope…until Arthur.

Her aunt
did little to conceal her animosity towards Harriet.
Harriet had never been a poor relation, but not being a pauper did little to raise her ranking in her aunt’s eyes.
Her aunt blamed their dire straits upon Harriet’s parents.

In truth, Harriet felt that distinction fell
upon her eldest cousin, Reginald. Being seven years her senior, Harriet saw little of her elder cousin.

Reginald
looked much like his father. A stout fellow with flabby, reddened cheeks, a large belly and a disagreeable attitude, he held little affection for either his father or mother. He only seemed to make an appearance at Beebe Manor when the need for money arose…which, according to the servants’ whispers, was often indeed due to Reginald’s vice for horses, cards, and women. Giving way to speculation of his appearance last night…

Harriet paused only a moment before she opened her grandmother’s door. Harriet found her as she did most mornings.

Rosemar Burke sat with her blanket wrapped tightly around her legs in a chair facing the open window. Slumped slightly, the woman stared blankly in front of her.

Her thin
gray hair was combed back under a lace cap. No evidence of the beauty she once held was apparent. Dressed in a black gown, a cameo pin was attached to a white lace collar at her throat. The cameo had been the last gift Harriet’s grandfather had given his wife. Despite her state of mind, most days Harriet’s grandmother found comfort in the small piece of jewelry.

Harriet
gave Mrs. Arabrams, her grandmother’s loyal maid, a pleasant smile. “How is she this morning?”

“She’s
been restless, Miss Harriet. Asked for you, she has.”

Harriet
looked questionably at Mrs. Arabrams. Her grandmother hadn’t said anyone’s name in over a year. Harriet moved forward to face her grandmother. Kneeling down, Harriet grasped her grandmother’s hand in a loving manner.

“Grandmother,
you wanted to see me?” Harriet asked, not expecting an answer.

For a
moment, Grandmother sat without responding. Then she turned her head and looked straight at her granddaughter. Studying her for a time, she uttered in a low voice, “Harriet. Harriet, I’ve been worried…”

Her voice
faded without finishing her thought.

“I am
fine, Grandmother,” Harriet said in a reassuring manner. “Remember, I’m to be married to Lieutenant Arthur Carlisle. You’ve met him. I introduced you to him before he departed for the war.”

Grandmother
tilted her head when suddenly her expression altered. Her once dim eyes ignited. Her aged hand gripped tightly to Harriet to the point where the strength of the grip startled Harriet.

“Harriet
needs to leave this place. They are after her. Tell her. Go.”

“Grandmother, I’m fine…”

Harriet darted a look at Mrs. Abrahams. She sensed the maid’s growing anxiety about her grandmother.

“I don’t
know what to do with her, Miss Harriet. She’s been like this all morning. Keeps saying they are plotting against you.”

“Nonsense, Grandmother
.” Harriet tried to soothe the disturbed lady. “Calm yourself. Nothing is going to happen. I promise.”

“Perhaps I should give her some laudanum to calm her,” Mrs. Abrahams said. Not waiting
for permission, she stepped toward a table holding a tray of water and the bottle of the medicine.

“But, of
course,” Harriet said. She released her grandmother’s hand and began to rise. “I have never seen her like this…”

“Harriet!” Grandmother called. “Oh dear Lord, protect my child!”

Harriet dropped to her knees. In a gentle fashion, she reached up and softly said, “I am here. Don’t worry…”

Grandmother
grasped hold of Harriet’s hand. She paused and stared down at Harriet’s hand. The ring sparkled in the morning light. A confused look swept across Grandmother’s face. She looked up at Harriet. “Georgiana?”

“I believe I liked the green the best.”

Harriet ceased stirring her tea. “The green one?” she asked. The truth was she hadn’t been listening to the conversation.

“Silly, we were talking about the green taffeta gown,” Bessie said, with
inflection of enthusiasm that Harriet did not feel. “Of course, Mother said a lavender shade would be best for your complexion. Though, you will have to add to your wardrobe if you go to the duke’s before London. It will never do to wear the same gowns.”

“I’m sure I have plenty. I do not know how I will wear what has already been ordered,” Harriet insisted.

Bessie laughed. “You will be fortunate to make it through the first week with the wardrobe you have now. You are to be the future Viscountness of Daneford. You will find yourself quite busy.”

“Harriet is set,” Clarissa said, placing her teacup down. “You need not worry about her. Lord Daneford will not allow anything less than a total success.” She glanced slightly over to her left at Harriet. “But that is not what concerns you. Is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Harriet admitted. “I checked in on Grandmother after the fitting. She’s sleeping comfortably.”

“Grandmother?” Bessie asked.

“Grandmother is having a bad time of it today.” Harriet exhaled deeply. “She is getting more confused with each passing day.”

“You need not worry, Harriet,” Clarissa said. “I will care for Grandmother. I have no plans to go to London this year. There will be no need.”

Harriet looked over at Clarissa, who betrayed her happiness by the gleam in her eye. A smile emerged on Harriet’s lips. “It is Lionel Rutland. He’s going to ask for your hand.”

Clarissa conceded. “He has asked Father for an audience.”

“It is wonderful!” Harriet rose and hugged Clarissa. “I know you have waited for this day. I’m so happy for you.”