Prologue
A knock on the door startled Olivia as she stared out of the window. A dismal, damp, gray day with a bitter north wind. The perfect weather for a funeral.
I thought I’d be safe in the morning room - that no one would think to look for me here. If I don’t answer, then whoever it is might go away.
She needed to be alone that day; she craved solitude. It wasn’t much to ask for, just a short time on her own, to calm her emotions and find the courage to face the world again. She could cope with the pain, the bandages wrapped around her shaven head. One day those bandages would be peeled away, and she would see her new identity.
There would be scars, and the doctor had been very specific in telling her to prepare herself for a changed appearance. She must, he had told her in somber tones, prepare herself for a life living with disfigurement.
I can live with physical scars. But the intense pain of losing Frederick and Mary will always be there. How could this have happened?She clutched at the velvet curtain, feeling the softness between her fingers.
I must be brave. I have to pull myself together for Jocelyn’s sake. She has lost both her parents.
Her fingers flew to the bandages and the strange sensation of no hair covering half her head. The next day, she would get Ellen to cut the other half short. It would be better to look even on both sides while her hair grew back.
I don’t need to look in the mirror. I know how I feel inside, that’s all that matters,she thought to herself.
The knock came again, more insistent. The noise resounded in her head, the pain in her temples throbbing at the sound. A whining, whimpering noise began in the corner of the room. Olivia looked toward the King Charles spaniel sitting on its cushion near the fire. Her sister-in-law’s tiny companion, Marguerite, looking toward her with enormous eyes.
Poor little thing, you’ve lost your family too, and you’re just a puppy.
“Come here, Marguerite,”she called to the dog.
She lifted the little dog and held it close. Mary had always had Marguerite close to her, and the tiny scrap of soft fur was bewildered, continually keening for her mistress.
“I miss her too,”murmured Olivia.“Jocelyn and I will look after you, don’t worry my little friend.”
Olivia capitulated to the knocking and called, “Enter.”
She breathed a sigh of relief to see Mrs. Jennings, the housekeeper.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, miss. The guests who came here after the funeral have all gone, except for Sir Jonathan Ellington. He’s still here and asked to speak to you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. In the depths of this sadness her beloved Jonathan had stayed to support her. Her fiancé was an anchor in her time of turmoil and change.
Would their marriage need to be delayed now she had entered a period of mourning? She smoothed down the skirt of her mourning gown of black bombazine silk. She hoped they could marry soon, then Jocelyn could come and live with her, rather than with her new guardian, her Uncle Harold, the new Earl of Riversmead.
“Thank you, Mrs. Jennings. I’ll see him now. Please show him in.”
“Very well. I’ll bring tea for you both, miss,” said Mrs. Jennings as she left.
She had not had a chance to speak with her fiancé at the service or in the churchyard. He entered the morning room with an air of confident authority, tall and handsome, reminding her of the statue of a Roman Emperor she had once seen in a museum in London.
Her eyes relaxed at the sight of his concerned face. He came immediately toward her and took both her hands in his.
“My dear. How are you?” he asked with gentle concern in his voice.
“As well as can be expected,” she responded. “I’m glad to see you Jonathan,” she said as she smiled into his flint gray eyes, expecting him to kiss her on the forehead as he usually did when they met. He didn’t kiss her though, and she thought fleetingly that this was no doubt because it was the day of the funeral for her brother and sister-in-law.
“Come, sit,” he said, somber and serious. “Does it pain you?” he asked as he gestured toward the bandages covering the side of her head.
“Not really,” she said, trying to smile and put him at ease. “The doctor said I’m healing well, and he will remove the bandages next week.”
Jonathan was concerned for her, and her heart melted with love for this man.
Olivia took a seat on the sofa but, to her surprise, Jonathan didn’t sit next to her, instead taking a seat on a chair, a little distance away from her.
“Erm, this is difficult, Olivia,” he began, “possibly one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I was awake all night thinking this through and there really is no alternative.” He avoided looking at her, his eyes staring at his polished hessian boots.
