Prologue

1802

"Can you believe her?"

Mrs. Haynes sent a warning look to the younger woman. "Mind your tongue, Mary," she said. "That is the mistress you're speaking of and you best not forget it, do you hear?"

"But to come without warning like that? And with a child no less! And then to complain that the bed is damp and the room stuffy," sixteen-year-old Mary said, shaking out her towel with a snap. "What could she have expected? Am I to just take her scolds when they are not deserved?"

"I might not know what the mistress thinks, but I do know what I expect of you," Mrs. Haynes said sharply. "No gossiping. There're big ears in the room and she doesn't need to be hearing you spout your opinion."

Mary glanced over to the table where a six-year-old girl sat watching them both. "Poor little tike." Mary lowered her voice. "Where do you think she came from?"

"It is the captain's daughter, of course," Mrs. Haynes said, quickly losing patience with the maid. "Why else would the mistress bring her to Meadowbrooke?"

"When was the last time the master was at Meadowbrooke, though? Why would the mistress bring the child here?"

Mrs. Haynes shook her head, refusing to be drawn into gossip and speculation with the teenager. The bell against the wall startled them both with how loud it rang. "Go on with you," the housekeeper said, straightening her shoulders. "I'll prepare the tray for the mistress' breakfast."

Heaving a sigh, Mary gave a nod and untied her apron. She hurried past the oak table and left the kitchen. At the table, the little girl scraped out the last bit of porridge in the bowl. "Did you have enough to eat?" Mrs. Haynes asked, pouring boiling water into the teapot. The little girl nodded slowly. "What's your name, child?"

"Papa calls me Ellie," the girl said, her voice soft. "Is my papa here, ma'am?"

The question sent a chill down Mrs. Haynes' spine. "No, child. Captain Burke isn't here. Last I heard, he was to be in London with your Mama."

"She is not my Mama." Ellie's soft voice held a note of resentment. "She is my step-mama."

Before the housekeeper could press further, Mary came racing into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed red. "Mrs. Burke wants her morning chocolate, and she has demanded the carriage be made ready for her in one hour."

"Chocolate?" Mrs. Haynes repeated. "Where are we supposed to get chocolate? This isn't London!"

"I know that!"

Mrs. Haynes shook her head. "Well, you'll just have to take up the tea and inform her it is the best we can do. And then run for the livery and let them know to send back the carriage."

Heaving a sigh, Mary lifted the tray and hurried out. Mrs. Haynes turned her attention back to Ellie. "It seems you are to leave us, little miss," she said. "You'll be glad to go back home to your papa."

Ellie shook her head, her blue eyes wide. "Papa isn't in London. She said Papa is gone."

Worry churned in Mrs. Haynes' stomach but she kept it to herself. While Mary ran to the livery stable in the village, the housekeeper left off her preparations for baking the bread for the day to take the child up to the nursery. She cleaned the child up and found a clean frock in the small trunk that had come with the girl.

When the hour was up, Mrs. Haynes had Ellie waiting at the front door. The carriage was at the gate. Mary dragged down Mrs. Burke's trunk and managed to get it to the door where the driver heaved it onto his shoulder. But of Mrs. Burke, there was no sign.

In fact, it was nearly a half hour before the woman made her appearance. She came down the stairs with her head high. Her bonnet was already tied on and she was tugging her gloves onto her hands. Mrs. Haynes made the correct curtsy as the woman came to a halt in front of them.

"Well, I trust you will see to the child," Mrs. Burke said with barely a glance at Ellie.

"Ma'am?" Mrs. Haynes asked, startled by the statement.

"The child. I leave her in your care until I decide otherwise. Captain Burke is dead. She has no family left. I must see to my own daughter. In London, so she is to be left here until I can make arrangements."

"But-" Mrs. Haynes tried to protest, but Mrs. Burke strode to the door. The housekeeper glanced once at Ellie, who was staring at her stepmother with a stony expression. "Now, wait just a moment! Mrs. Burke!"

She rushed to the door. "I'm sure she won't give you any trouble. She's a quiet, strange creature," Mrs. Burke called over her shoulder. "I must be off. I have a long journey."

"Mrs. Burke!"

But the woman closed the carriage door. At her command, the driver set off. Mrs. Haynes stared after her in confusion. When she turned back around, Mary was standing in the doorway with her hand on young Ellie's shoulder. Taking a deep breath, the housekeeper slowly walked back to join them.

"My papa isn't coming back, is he?" Ellie asked, her voice trembling. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Kneeling down, Mrs. Haynes broke every unspoken rule of a servant and embraced the child. "Don't you worry. We're going to look after you."

What else could she do?