Chapter Twelve
That evening
Ashlyn relaxed against the comfortable pillows she’d plumped up behind her bed and withdrew her diary from under her mattress, where she’d left it that morning, before going down to breakfast with the countess.
Before arriving at Ravenswood, she hadn’t written since she and Elizabeth had gone sightseeing.
And after tonight, she would have written twice in a day.
But so much had happened in the meantime that she was anxious to write, especially considering what had transpired since her leaving the hotel in London.
As she leaned against the headboard, she thought about the accident and how she got here—to Ravenswood, in the company of the Earl of Ravensthorpe, the most handsome man she’d ever seen—and needed to tell her diary.
Then there was Elizabeth’s elopement, something she was still having trouble reconciling.
Just thinking about her cousin made her heart hurt.
She dearly hoped Elizabeth had been right about Matteo and that she had been wrong.
And, of course, she had to write about the carriage accident—even thinking about that still made her shudder.
At least Billy hadn’t been hurt any worse than he was.
And if she could stay awake, she might write about Gabriel’s assistance with stitching up Billy’s injury.
She got up from her bed, sat down at her desk, and prepared her pen and ink.
“It may take more than this evening to get everything in here,” she whispered, silently vowing to do better with her diary.
Ashlyn enjoyed updating her diary—she had been writing in one ever since she was thirteen, and found it calmed her.
She had written volumes of diaries, all left on a special bookcase her father had built in their home in Connecticut.
Satisfied that she was ready, she dipped her pen and began.
Dear Diary,
Two entries in one day! I wish it were all good, but there is sadness and guilt and frustration blended into one knot that is twisting in my chest. Because I am continuing this ruse, these lies, to these good and kind people who have helped me and given me shelter.
To them, I am an American heiress named Elizabeth Vickers.
I am not. I am Miss Ashlyn March, daughter of a talented and successful physician and his equally talented wife, and while my parents have done well for themselves, they are in no way rich.
I wish things had been different and that I could have just told the truth from the beginning, instead of being forced to lie and say I am Elizabeth.
Oh, my dear cousin, why did you put me into this situation?
I suppose I cannot fault Elizabeth for falling in love with the Italian painter.
Although her parents will be heartsick, furious, and devastated.
Take your pick. I’m heartsick and worried about her myself.
She claims he’s the son of a count, yet he borrowed money to elope to Italy.
By now, she may have already become his wife.
“Let’s have our portrait painted! What lovely gifts we can give our parents,” Elizabeth had said in that way that only she could, with equal parts excitement and thirst for adventure.
I remember shaking my head. Having one’s portrait painted certainly did not constitute an adventure…or so I thought. As it turned out, it was an adventure of a lifetime for Elizabeth.
Oh, Elizabeth, I truly hope you are now happily married, and that your Italian painter is everything you dreamed he would be and more. And that you are both madly in love.
Dear Diary, I must confess that in a strange way, I welcomed the storm.
Once we were out of danger, of course, I thought it would make it impossible for me to attend Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s house party and that eventually I could return to London and hide in our suite until Aunt and Uncle arrived.
But Lady Ravensthorpe and Gabriel worked out a way for me to attend, insisting that Gabriel ride with me.
With all the lies I’ve told in an effort to keep up this pretense, thanks to my cousin, how could I refuse?
Ironically, I had been looking forward to attending my first social event in England. Oh, I did not na?vely think that I would fall in love and meet my future husband. I am not full of such silly notions. The daughter of a physician would never be the belle of the ball.
But I was set to enjoy myself as Elizabeth’s cousin, happy to watch her charm every eligible bachelor in England.
And hopefully meet someone who would make her heart flutter…
the way Gabriel does mine. Ah, who am I to even presume to think that the Earl of Ravensthorpe might fall in love with me, Ashlyn March?
I wonder if Gabriel would have truly seen me if he had met me for the first time at the house party instead of here at his own home, where we have both had the gift of time and privacy to know each other. Here, at least, I am truly myself in every way except my name.
I don’t know the answer to that question.
But what I do know is that my feelings for Gabriel are growing with each passing hour.
Just as my affection for his mother and Caro are growing.
But I cannot appreciate it as myself. Instead, I must hide behind a ruse.
A lie. And I am in so deep that I must continue this charade and see it through to the bitter end.
Ashlyn shook her head, trying to dispel the troubling thoughts of her cousin. Her aunt and uncle would arrive soon, and she hoped Elizabeth would return before then.
I dread the thought of being the one left to explain Elizabeth’s elopement to her own parents.
Somehow, all her schemes always land me in the position of enlightening my aunt and uncle.
But this…this is different. Elizabeth should be here to tell her parents.
For once, I do not want to be the intermediary between my willful cousin and her worried parents.
Nothing about Elizabeth’s elopement feels right.
With each lie I am forced to tell, I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into a hole I am afraid I cannot escape.
I don’t know what else to do except to keep up this ruse, for the sake of Elizabeth.
But what about my sake? The sake of my honor?
Yes, when I eventually return to America, I will likely never see or hear from these lovely people again.
But in my heart, I will weep for the loss that my lies have cost.
Staying here at Ravenswood has been a heartwarming respite. The countess reminds me of Aunt Beatrice, and the earl is truly the Prince Charming of every girl’s dreams.
But there is a little girl here who is now in my heart and shall remain there for the rest of my life. Caroline, who lost both her parents in a tragic accident three years ago, when she was only four years old. Who has not spoken a word since the accident and has reverted to sleepwalking.
I am relieved that I have a little more time with this family, with Caro and the countess and the earl.
The house party has been postponed to the weekend, given the weather conditions, but in the meantime, I will cherish every memory I make here at Ravenswood.
Memories that will live in my heart for the rest of my life.
Dear Diary, I bid you good night, and I shall return with another entry very soon. Until next time…
~A
Just as she was tucking her diary beneath her mattress, Alice rushed into the room with Ashlyn’s freshly pressed dress. “I thought you’d enjoy the yellow chintz dress today. It’ll be lovely with your beautiful hair, Miss Vickers.”
“Thank you, Alice,” Ashlyn said, hoping the maid hadn’t seen her tuck her diary away. It was for her eyes only, even though she was certain she could trust Alice.
“Mrs. Flinters told me that the countess is looking forward to seeing you at dinner.”
“But we have plenty of time before dinner,” Ashlyn said, once again leaning back against the comfortable pillows.
“No, we do not, miss. I want to take my time styling your hair and getting you dressed so you’ll look perfect,” Alice said.
“Thank you. It seems each time I go, it’s a different way. This house is immense.”
“It’s been expanded many times, miss, and according to Eugenia, one of the maids I’ve gotten to know, there are lots of different ways to get to places in here.”
“Nobody can look perfect.”
“Please, miss, indulge me just this once,” Alice said with a hopeful smile.
“Very well. You may do your best to tame these unruly tresses!” Ashlyn giggled.
An hour later, she made her way to the dining room with Alice by her side.
Truth be told, she did feel beautiful. Alice had outdone herself, Ashlyn saw when she observed her reflection in the looking glass.
She was taken aback by her appearance. Alice had indeed worked magic and made her look like a regal princess.
Wispy curls framed her face in a half updo resembling delicate lace that complemented her violet-blue eyes.
Lovely pearls adorned her neck, while her elegant yellow chintz dress was embellished with small white pearls woven into the bodice.
“Miss, you do look like a princess, I must say. I do excellent work,” Alice said with a wink.
Ashlyn shook her head at her maid’s cheeky comment. “You are nothing if not modest.”
They passed down an unfamiliar hallway on their way to the dining room. “I haven’t been down this way before,” Ashlyn said, in awe of her surroundings as she walked. She looked up at the wall where life-sized portraits of the earl’s ancestors and his immediate family looked down.
“One of the maids showed me this way early this morning,” Alice said. “It’s a more direct way to the dining room.”
Just as they approached the end of the hall, Ashlyn stopped and gasped at a stunning painting that caught her eye. What looked like an older version of Gabriel smiled down at her. “This must be his father,” she whispered. “The late earl.”