Fenella J. Miller Read Free

and mother. Why had his beloved never mentioned having a distant cousin living with them, especially as she must be about the same age?

Chapter Two
    “T HERE Y OU A RE , Miss Baverstock, you’ll feel more the thing when you drink the tisane that Cook has prepared for you. It will ease your sore throat and help you sleep.”
    Elizabeth accepted the hot drink gratefully. “Thank you, Mrs. Blake, you are all so kind to me and I don’t deserve it.”
    “That you do, my dear, we’ve watched you grow up. It’s criminal how you’re being treated now when this has been you’re home since you were in leading strings.”
    This was a familiar topic of conversation and one with no future in it. “Mrs. Blake, I beg you not to keep reminding me how things were. I must be thankful I have a roof over my head. Poor Grandfather was taken so suddenly he had no time to arrange a settlement for me. I must make the best of things, at least I’m still living in the house I love so much.”
    Mrs. Blake snorted but said nothing further on the subject. “That young man who carried you home is most concerned about your welfare. George is to tell him how you fare.”
    “I’ve finished, Mrs. Blake, thank you. There’s a good fire in the grate and with the curtains drawn I shall be perfectly snug. Please do not trouble yourself to be running up and down after me, I have a jug of lemonade and that is all I require at the moment.”
    The housekeeper bustled off and Elizabeth settled down in her narrow bed. Lady Hartford had refused to allow her to exchange it for something bigger. This was meant for a child and her long limbs were difficult to organise comfortably. If two of the footman had not moved the bed against the wall, no doubt she would frequently fall out onto the boards.
    In spite of the sparseness of her accommodation, she was content up here away from the constant criticisms and sharp reminders she was no more than a drain on their resources. Occasionally Eleanor crept up to be with her but she was too afraid of her mother and sister to risk being discovered where she ought not to be. However, knowing not all the family hated her was a great comfort in the dark hours of the night.
    As she was drifting off to sleep, something Eleanor had told her when she had returned from Town last week popped into her mind. Sir James Worthington was coming to stay for the festivities and was expected to make an offer for Eleanor. Could the gentleman who’d done his best to kill her in the snow be the very same person?
    If he was, then he was not right for Eleanor. He was too forthright, too dictatorial and would scare his would be bride into accepting him. He must be an eligible parti , a wealthy man of impeccable breeding, for Lord and Lady Hartford to consider him suitable for either of their beautiful daughters.
    He would be more suited to Amelia. She was as sharp as her mother and would not take kindly to being dictated to by anyone. Indeed, she was her papa’s favourite, the older of the two by a few minutes only, but one would think she was her sister’s senior by several years at least.
    It would be interesting to watch how this developed. She was glad she was not often asked to dine with the family as she preferred to eat her meals in the kitchen or on a tray in the nursery. When she was obliged to join them in order to make up the numbers, she was either ignored or constantly reminded of her good fortune to be still living at Hartford Hall.
    With so many guests expected over the next two days there would be no need for her. The enormous table in the dining room would be quite full enough. She had often slipped in to the grand drawing-room and hid herself behind a convenient pillar in order to listen and observe on similar occasions. She had every intention of doing so this time.

    “Duncan, what can you tell me about Miss Baverstock? It’s quite plain she’s being taken advantage of here.”
    “Everyone below stairs is only too