Chapter 1
Yorkshire, England
July 14, 1775
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The mail coach made its way through the slippery moors on a dismal summer evening. The recent heavy rains had turned the roads into a muddy mess with ruts that tossed the coach’s occupants about. Miss Marlene Sinclair gritted her teeth as she braced herself against the inside wall and prayed that the conveyance remained upright until she reached her destination. She was the only one of the passengers who seemed troubled by the precarious sway of the vehicle, as well as the shouts from the coachman as he attempted to keep the team of six from sliding to their deaths.
She screwed her eyes shut tightly. As someone who had lost both of her parents in a carriage accident, Marlene was quite sure she had a right to be on edge where others didn’t. The sliver of moonlight overhead did nothing to ease the dark, forbidding scenery. In the day, the heather-covered landscape would likely be enchanting with its bright sea of purple and pink, but right now, it looked eerie, seemed to give a warning to turn around.
She clutched her valise and tried desperately not to make eye contact with anyone when she opened her eyes. She didn’t care for the spark of interest in the eyes of the man opposite her, nor did she like the odd cackle from the older woman at his side. The man diagonal from her wore spectacles and appeared to be the most uninterested from the rest as he read his book by the dim light of the swaying carriage lantern.
Marlene would have loved nothing more than to remain in London, but unfortunately, there was nothing left there for her any longer. When her cousin, her father’s heir, had arrived with his wife, he’d cast her out, giving her no choice but to seek an alternate existence. She was the poor, penniless relation who had been forced to accept the position of a companion in this far-off, desolate place, far from everything she had ever known. Her parents were gone, and she would have become a hardship for them if she had remained, at least, that is what he had claimed.
Desperate to survive, Marlene had replied to the first advertisement she had found. With little experience, she’d had small hope that she would be able to secure something so quickly, but to her surprise, she was contacted just three weeks later with the funds to purchase transport on the mail coach to Yorkshire.
Now, here she was, her teeth rattling in her head as she wondered if she would make it to the small village of Rosedale Abbey. There was supposed to be someone to meet her at the mail stop and take her to Rosedale Heights, the manor in the heart of the North York Moors.
She prayed she would make it there by nightfall, as it had already been nearly three days of grueling travel on her own. It was the first time she’d dared to go anywhere without her maid, but Elizabeth was back in London, having been hired as the new servant to the mistress of her father’s former estate.
Marlene dared not consider her precarious circumstances too closely, because if she did, she knew she would break down in tears. She had done that enough when she’d packed up her things the night before she left the city. After that, she realized there was no point in crying for something that would never change. Rosedale Heights would be her new home now, so she was determined to make the best of it.
The coach finally entered Whitby, a seaside village on the coast, and although Marlene would have to backtrack a short distance to reach her destination, at least she could give a sigh of relief knowing that she had reached the White Horse & Griffin coaching inn at long last.
While the coach was still rocking to a stop, the door was wrenched open, and Marlene carefully stepped down to the cobblestones. She held up a section of her plain, gray robe à l'anglaise with its open front and stomacher, covered by a dark blue redingote. The ensemble was topped by a wide, straw bonnet.
She had chosen the simplest attire to wear for travel, and considering she was going to be nothing more than a glorified companion, she didn’t want to appear too high in the instep upon meeting her employers. She had to make a good impression, because she was quite literally at their mercy at this point.
Waiting patiently for her trunks to be unloaded, she adopted indifference when the gentleman who had been eyeing her boldly stepped down to the ground. She swallowed hard as he brushed by her. He might have been attractive with his smooth, brown hair and tall stature, but there was something about his penetrating gaze that made her skin crawl. She prayed that the carriage that was supposed to collect her would arrive soon, or she might find herself in trouble. She had no idea how to defend herself from unwanted advances. Her father had always been there to protect her.
The mail coach soon rattled away from the inn yard, the commotion that had arrived with it, slowing to a dull simmer. At least Marlene could take heart in knowing that the rain had ceased for the moment. Otherwise, she might be a soggy mess by the time she arrived at her new post.
Minutes ticked by as Marlene stood outside the inn. She could hear the merriment going on beyond the doors, but she didn’t dare allow herself to go inside. It was dangerous enough to be on her own without the proper protection.
Marlene tensed as a black, unmarked coach and four stopped before the inn. Surely this wasn’t for her. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when it came to her employer, Sir Alaric Gothry, but it wasn’t such grandeur.
A coachman wearing a black frock coat and breeches with buckle shoes and a tricorn on his head appeared. He had a prominent nose on his face and his beady, black eyes reminded Marlene of a crow. “Miss St. Clair?”
His voice was empty and hollow. It caused a shiver to crawl up her spine, but she found her wherewithal to confirm, “I am.”
He said nothing more but grabbed her trunk and lifted it as though it weighed nothing and tossed it onto the top of the coach. He did the same with the other two, and once they were secured, he opened the door for her with an expectant expression. She walked forward and climbed inside the dark purple velvet-lined interior, and the door was shut behind her.
She released a steady exhale, and as the carriage set into motion, something compelled her to glance back at the inn. Standing outside, puffing on a cheroot, was the curious gentleman. His lips were curved in a perpetual smile, and she quickly averted her gaze and scooted away from the window.
The ride that followed was much nicer than the arduous journey in the mail coach, and since she wasn’t being tossed to and fro, she started to doze off.
When they came to an abrupt stop and the door opened, Marlene roused with a start and gathered her wits. She kept her valise in her grasp as she stepped to the ground before a massive, stone edifice. She didn’t catch more than a glance at the exterior before she noticed a woman holding a lantern in the frame of the front door. She wore a pinched expression, and her stone-gray hair was pulled back into a severe bun.
A chill slithered along Marlene’s spine as she made her way forward.
“Welcome to Rosedale Heights, Miss St. Clair. I’m the housekeeper, Mrs. Bates.”
That was it. No inquiry as to her journey or if she would like any refreshments after her travels. Marlene wondered if she would meet Sir Gothry’s aunt, Lady Erica Marchbanks, or perhaps the master himself this night, but she kept her thoughts to herself as she followed Mrs. Bates down a hallway filled with paintings of various hunting scenes on the walls and shadows around every corner.
She eventually paused before an open doorway that led into a dimly lit room beyond. Marlene assumed that meant she was to enter, so she did, albeit a bit warily. She had been told very little about anything regarding Rosedale Heights, other than she was there to serve as a companion to Sir Gothry’s elderly, widowed aunt. Even the reply she’d received, letting her know she had gotten the position, was cryptic and offered little in the way of further explanation, other than the means to get there. She hoped, now that she was here, she might find someone who could converse on a pleasant level. If she was meant to remain in this mausoleum of a manor, then she had to try to make the best of things. Either that or send out notices to inquire about seeking a new position.
For now, she intended to keep an open mind. Perhaps it wasn’t that the people were harsh, but rather they were wondering about this stranger they had allowed into their midst. Sometimes it took certain people a bit longer to open up.
