Page 116 of The Keeper and I

“I’m fine,” he said and brushed some of the debris off his jacket.

“Good. I’m not cut out for popping bones back in. I would do it for you, but you’d have to be okay with me getting sick, like, immediately after.”

A fleeting smile graced his lips, but it disappeared when he looked at the shadowy opening that yawned before them. “Ready to go in?”

“God no, but I suppose we must,” she said.

“Aye, so we must.”

He led the way, and Laci held up the light. He shielded her from the protruding fractured wood with his body and let her step inside. She aimed the light around the room, and her stomach dropped when she saw canvases lining the wall. They were all portraits of what appeared to be her around the estate, only she was in Regency dresses, her hair curled and pinned in a debutante’s hairstyle. Jordan stiffened at her side when he took them in as well.

“Fucking hell…” he murmured.

“I…” she trailed off. “It’s Caroline.”

She couldn’t explain it, but more than the face, she recognized the art. Brief, murky images swam to the forefront of her mind of when she saw them for the first time. She could see the paintings, but the thing that stuck out more was the pride on Samuel’s face.

“Laci.”

Jordan’s voice, and a nudge from his elbow, brought her out of her stupor. She looked at him and then followed where his finger was pointing. In the corner sat a large wooden chest. She turned the light toward it to get a better look. It had no locks, so she figured whoever placed it there must have intended for the lock on the door to do its job.

“Should we open it?” she asked.

“Who’s gonna stop us?” he returned.

She conceded that point, and together they approached it. As she stretched out her hand to flip the top up, an overwhelming heaviness sat on her chest. It was as if she could feel Caroline’s presence, not only within her, but around her as well. It was not only her will, but Caroline’s influence too that guided her arm toward the chest.

Jordan helped her lift the top. The musty smell of age wafted out from it along with a few plumes of dust. Laci shined the light inside at a few dresses. Time had faded the color, but they were recognizable as some of the ones she wore in the paintings. A thick, leather-bound book rested on top of them.

“What is that?” Jordan wondered.

“It’s her diary,” Laci said automatically.

The only explanation she had for knowing that had to be the connection to Caroline was true. She carefully picked up the journal and opened to the first page. The parchment was aged and dry, and some of the ink had been soaked up so the words weren’t clear. But the first date was September 24, 1813.

As she gazed at it, Laci could picture Caroline up in her room, the same one Laci had today, at her desk, her hand sliding over the page as she wrote the words in neat script.

“Father hired a new fencing instructor for the boys today,” she read aloud. “His name is Samuel. Samuel MacPhairse. I’ve never seen a man so handsome, not in all of London. But, perhaps, it is also his kindness that makes me so drawn to him. He actually looks at me. After two seasons as a wallflower, I was beginning to feel altogether invisible. But I think he sees me.”

Laci flipped ahead until she found another entry that was legible.

“Today Mr. MacPhairse asked me to call him Samuel, but I feel that is entirely too familiar at this time. Suitable for my private thoughts, certainly, but not for out in the world. Though I will mention the way he says my name, even when he is calling me Lady Caroline…I will say I’ve never quite understood the word ‘swoon’ until rather recently.”

Laci skimmed forward

“I learned today that Samuel is an artist,” she went on. “I was out for my morning walk in the garden when I saw him sketching some of Mama’s roses. He confessed to me that he is more adept at painting, but since he was traveling all the way from Scotland, he didn’t feel he could bring his supplies with him. I am resolved to get him some when we go into town next week for my new dress. I would very much like to see what he comes up with.”

She skipped ahead again, this time much further, until the date read 1815.

“Lord Seymour is beginning to concern me,” she read. “He is not the most gentlemanly of men. He seems more interested in my dowry than he is in me. And his eyes…so frightening and icy blue. They look almost wild at times. I cannot imagine looking into those eyes for the rest of my days.” She looked meaningfully at Jordan before she continued. “Not that it matters as I have promised myself to Samuel. In fact, in every way but on paper, Samuel is my husband. All that is left is to tell my family and then we plan to elope in Scotland. I wish we could go sooner, but Samuel insists on being honest.”

When she turned a few more pages, an envelope slipped from the back and fluttered toward the ground.

Jordan caught it before it landed and turned it over in his hand. They saw the name written on it. Caroline.

He cast a hesitant, sidelong glance at Laci, and she gave him a nod. The envelope wasn’t sealed, so Jordan was able to tug the letter out with ease. He unfolded it and began to read aloud.

“Caroline,” he began. “Your father has learned about us. I don’t know how he discovered it, but I told him the truth. The whole truth of what we are to each other. I am to meet him at dawn for a duel. I intend to aim my pistol at the sky. I am writing to tell you just once more how much I adore you…”

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