Page 31 of A Lady Most Wayward
‘Um. Yes. Miss Winters is an old chum from finishing school. She knows of our situation and has offered to help.’
Making no move to take them into the house, Callum kept his sharp gaze on Philippa. ‘Isn’t that so very generous of her?’ But his tone implied no compliment. Indeed, he seemed much like a bear guarding his den. ‘I’ll have a word with you in private, Olivia.’ His eyes never left Philippa as he spoke.
‘You’ll do no such thing. Wherever she goes, I go.’ Philippa raised her eyebrow like a guillotine blade ready to claim its next victim.
‘Is that because you don’t trust me, or you don’t trust her?’ Callum tipped his chin in Olivia’s direction.
‘I don’t trust anyone, save myself.’ Philippa strode forward and stopped toe to toe with Callum. ‘Now, take us to Hyacinth so we can collect her and be on our way.’
‘I shall not do a blasted thing until I speak with Lady Smithwick.’ Callum fisted his hands by his side. His jaw muscles clenched, and he held his ground against the duchess.
Satisfaction that at least she had made a good choice in leaving Hyacinth with Callum filled Olivia with some comfort. He might not like her daughter, but he was willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect her. Few men had the courage to stand against Philippa. Even less would do so on behalf of a girl they hardly knew.
Philippa narrowed her eyes. ‘Fine. But be quick about it. We were attacked by highwaymen on our journey here. They carried with them a note outlining our route, so someone is working against us. The same person might have sent others here if they have even a hint of suspicion as to Hyacinth’s whereabouts.’
Callum held his ground for another moment, no doubt digesting the information. Glancing at Olivia, he tipped his head toward the house.
‘Come inside. You, stay out here.’ He jabbed his finger at Philippa, and Olivia couldn’t stop the smug smile curling her lips. Finally, a man was willing to stand up to the beautiful woman instead of shrinking back in fear. Philippa caught her gaze. Her eyes darkened. She threw her shoulders back and jutted out her chin, a warrior holding back her charge, but not for long.
Olivia sailed by a fuming Philippa and entered the sparse, but meticulously clean cottage. She had spent a few days there with Hyacinth when they first fled London, making sure her daughter was settled and that she would be safe before Olivia returned to town to collect her prize. The snug home was designed with the front door opening right into a small parlour. Beyond that was a hallway leading to the back of the house, where the kitchen and larder could be found facing the sea. On her right was a staircase leading up to the bedrooms. The parlour was empty, and there were no sounds of voices in the rest of the house.
‘Where is Hyacinth? Is she well?’ The words came out in a rush. Olivia wanted to grab his arm and shake the information free.
‘She is as well as a spoiled, selfish, spiteful girl could be expected. If I’d known how much trouble she’d be, I wouldn’t have agreed to this, no matter how much my mother esteems you.’
‘You didn’t agree. She did.’ Mrs Hughes was once Olivia’s nanny. She had been young Olivia’s favourite person for all her childhood, and that affection only grew as she transitioned from girl to woman. ‘Where is she, by the by?’
Callum’s dark eyebrows lowered over his grey eyes. ‘With your daughter. They’re thick as thieves, those two. Miss Hyacinth has Mam convinced she should be taking more walks. They’ve gone down to the shore. Mam’ll probably fall on the rocks and twist her ankle following that wild hellion.’
The news of her daughter forming some kind of connection with Mrs Hughes when she had no interest in Olivia struck a chord of jealousy within her that twanged painfully. But she pushed away the disloyal feeling and chose instead to focus on defending Hyacinth’s honour. ‘She’s hardly a hellion. The child had to make do without a mother for ten years. It’s no wonder she’s formed such a connection with yours. She was always so kind to me when I was a child.’
Mrs Hughes had been a part of Olivia’s life from the moment she was born until a few weeks before Olivia’s marriage. Mrs Hughes found a sweetheart of her own. A handsome farmer with a young lad of four who needed the kind of help Mrs Hughes was ready to give. She married and made the move to the Cornish coast. While saying her goodbyes, she promised to always be there if Olivia needed anything. Even then, Olivia imagined Mrs Hughes knew Olivia’s future would not be easy. Her nursemaid never liked Percival, though she wouldn’t say a word about it to Olivia’s father.
Olivia wrote to Mrs Hughes during the first few years of her marriage, and the sage woman shared advice, encouragement, and understanding. She became Olivia’s anchor in a troubled sea until Percy dragged her kicking and screaming across the Channel to an asylum in Germany.
The Home for Wayward Women believed in horrific treatments to cure their patients, but they weren’t as strict as some of the asylums in England. They allowed patients to write and receive letters if they showed exemplary behaviour, though they also used this as a tool to ensure obedience. When Olivia received her first letter from Mrs Hughes, she thought it was a cruel joke. How could she possibly know where Olivia had been sent? Percy was adamant no one find out where he’d imprisoned her, reminding her when he left the asylum that she was completely alone. But the informational network of the servant class was second to none. Mrs Hughes kept in touch with several of the maids in Olivia’s house, and they had informed her of the gossip surrounding Olivia’s sudden disappearance. No doubt one of them had seen the correspondence between Percy and the lead physician of the asylum and put the pieces together.
Mrs Hughes was the only person who wrote to Olivia in the asylum. Her letters came once a month without fail, though Olivia wasn’t always allowed to receive them. At times, the doctors and nurses would withhold the missives until Olivia submitted to whatever treatment they deemed necessary to cure her of the sexual depravity raging through her system. Once, a particularly nasty orderly burned Mrs Hughes’ letter in front of Olivia before she could read it. Punishment for refusing to voluntarily enter the ice baths.
But every time she was allowed to read the precious words from her nursemaid, she felt hope stir in her chest. Mrs Hughes made sure to fill her letters with silly details that brought tears and smiles in equal measure. The normal beauty of life captured by ink on parchment reminded Olivia of everything she fought to regain and everything she was missing. The bees buzzing over Mrs Hughes’ roses. The cat who curled up on her lap when she was trying to knit. Callum, the child of her heart, if not her body, who grew into a man as Olivia read letter after letter in her solitary cell. Even the tragedy Mrs Hughes experienced when her husband passed from acute angina after only nine years together was a reminder to Olivia that life was always changing and nothing would last forever, neither sorrow nor joy. Mrs Hughes’ grief at the loss of her husband, and ability to heal from that grief to a place of gratitude for the love they shared filled Olivia with longing for somethingmore. And on the rarest occasion, Mrs Hughes would hear word of Hyacinth. Those letters were the hardest to read. The ink would run with Olivia’s tears.
Mrs Hughes’ correspondence reminded Olivia there was an entire world outside her four walls where the sun shone. The rain fell. The wind blew. And people lived. Even after experiencing tragedy. They didn’t just survive. They savoured honey on fresh bread. Walked through frothy waves on a sandy shore. Hummed melodies and tapped their toe to the rhythm of life. Olivia refused to believe she wouldn’t one day rejoin the living because Mrs Hughes ended every letter with the same message of hope:Until we see each other again, I hold you in my heart.
The first letter Olivia wrote upon being released from the asylum was addressed to Mrs Hughes in her little stone cottage on the Cornish coast. And she was the only person Olivia trusted to offer sanctuary when she needed it most.
Callum crossed his arms over his chest again. ‘She is the kindest woman I know. And I won’t be exposing her to any danger. Not for you nor your daughter. So, tell me, who is this Winters? Can we trust her?’
‘We can trust her to fight for her interests. And right now, it is in her interest to get Hyacinth to safety.’
‘Why might that be?’ Callum’s hard stare dared Olivia to lie.
Because then I’ll tell her the identity of the Crow. And she will make sure to hold me accountable for my crimes.
‘I have something she needs.’ It wasn’t the full truth, but neither was it a lie.
Callum exhaled through his nose. For a man of only twenty, he carried himself with the weariness of a much older person. ‘Fine. The sooner you leave, the sooner things will return to normal. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since your daughter walked through that door.’
And as if his words conjured her from thin air, the lilting sound of Hyacinth’s laughter carried above the distant crashing waves. A door in the back of the house creaked open and slammed shut.
