Chapter 2 #2
Thelma managed a small smile and pulled the girl into a quick hug. “Thank you, Bessie. For everything.”
Minutes later she slipped out the side door, the sky still dark and the air sharp with frost. She left no note.
The journey took three exhausting days.
The first coach was packed and smelled strongly of wet wool and old bread. Thelma wedged herself by the window and watched the gray countryside slide past.
The questions circled endlessly in her head: Is Liliana warm? Is someone feeding her properly? Does she miss me? Does she even remember me after only a few days?
She let the loop run. It was better than imagining the alternative, if she got there and they refused to let her see the baby.
The second coach was half-empty and quieter, but a middle-aged woman opposite her kept trying to draw her out. “Going to visit family, dear?”
“Such a long way for a young lady to travel alone.”
Thelma answered in short, polite sounds until the woman finally gave up and turned to her other neighbor. She felt a flicker of guilt, but not enough to restart the conversation.
The third coach was the worst by far, an old, rattling boneshaker that stopped at every tiny village. Every pothole made her back ache worse. She hadn’t slept properly in months, and these three days hadn’t helped. By the time she stepped down at the last stop, she felt hollowed out.
She took a room at the small village inn and settled in the warm common room with a cup of weak tea that tasted mostly of hot water. Two local women at the next table were gossiping with great enthusiasm.
“Left on his doorstep, they say. Middle of the night, if you can believe it.”
“And he’s actually keeping the child?” the second woman asked, clearly thrilled by the scandal.
“So far. Though I doubt it’ll last long. A duke, still unmarried, suddenly landed with a baby of unknown blood? Tongues are already wagging.”
The first woman leaned in, voice dropping to a stage whisper. “They’re saying the baby is probably his. Why else would someone choose a duke? A man like that doesn’t take in strays unless he has a reason.”
Thelma’s fingers tightened around her cup.
Could it be Liliana?
The timing matched. A baby appeared suddenly at a duke’s door in the middle of the night. Her stomach twisted with a strange mix of hope and dread.
What are the odds?
In a quiet corner of Somerset, how many mysterious babies could there possibly be? But then again… a duke. It seemed too strange, too far-fetched. Her father moved in small circles. How on earth would he even know a duke?
She forced herself to breathe slowly, listening as the women moved on to other delicious bits of local scandal.
The questions kept spinning in her head. If it is her, is she frightened? Has she been crying for me? Does anyone there know she likes her back rubbed when she’s fussy?
By the time she went upstairs, her mind was heavy with possibilities.
The next morning, she set out early, walking the long road to the estate after asking several people for the location.
The house appeared gradually; pale stone glowing against the white sky, far larger and grander than she had imagined, with too many windows and chimneys to count.
The gravel drive seemed endless. By the time she reached the front steps, her heart was pounding so hard she felt dizzy, and her palms were slick inside her gloves.
She had rehearsed her speech the entire way: My name is Thelma Preston. Yvette Gainsborough was my sister. Liliana is her daughter. I’ve come to take her home.
Yes, that is pretty much clear and honest, is it not?
She lifted the heavy knocker and let it fall.
The door opened almost at once. A neat, middle-aged housekeeper with graying temples looked her over, plain dress, tired eyes, small travelling bag, and gave a brisk, professional smile.
“Miss Eliza Hartley? The agency sent word we could expect you this week. You had better come in. The duke is waiting to meet you.”
Thelma froze.
Wait… what?
The truthful words sat right there on her tongue, ready to spill out.
There's been a mistake. I'm not from any agency. I'm here for my niece.
The housekeeper held the door wider. Behind her, deep in the house, Thelma heard it… Liliana's cry. She had heard that sound a hundred times. She knew it the way she knew her own heartbeat.
She's here.
The housekeeper's brows lifted a fraction, waiting.
Thelma thought… if I tell the truth, they will shut this door in my face.
A duke's household does not hand a baby to a woman who appears on the step claiming to be her aunt.
They will fetch a solicitor, or a magistrate, and by the time anyone believes me she will have cried herself sick in a nursery full of strangers.
She opened her mouth.
"Yes. Good morning. I'm Miss Hartley."
The words came out steadier than she felt. The housekeeper smiled and stepped back. Thelma walked through the door.
It closed behind her with a deep, decisive thunk.
She stood in the entrance hall with her bag clutched against her side and her pulse loud in her ears and thought: I will fix this. I will find a way to fix this that doesn't end with me losing her again. But first I have to get to her.
It was not a good plan. It was barely a plan at all. But Liliana was somewhere in that house, and Thelma was inside it, and that was more than she'd had ten minutes earlier.