Haven House Page 3

  “What…?”

  The sheriff watched me, his long dark hair glinting in the sunlight while the verdant green of his eyes reflected on me. Like a deep pond, I wanted to fall into them.

  He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Coultihan asked me to bring you in. She wanted to talk to you about something.” The trill of his accent, southern and drugging, captured me.

  I needed a moment to throw off the confusion that filled my brain. “I…”

  At Haven House, we’d been warned such men as this were dangerous. They’d take our chastity, use us, and throw us away when they were done. Yet for all the danger in the broad set of his shoulders and the slashing of his heavily stubbled chin, there was no thrum of alarm running through me. I wondered in that moment if this was another of their controlling mantras. The only men who’d scared me in my time at Haven House had been Junior and Master. No other men were allowed into the house proper. I’d need to think about that.

  “Come,” he said.

  He reached out a gloved hand, and I took it, glancing quickly over my shoulder to the forest behind me. I’d wasted my opportunity to run, so I walked beside him.

  “You’ve had time to settle in here now.” He said it more like a statement, and I glanced at him.

  “Not really. I mean, I don’t have a purpose or some way to fill my days.” The urge to curse my unruly mouth was a heavy weight.

  “It’ll come.”

  We reached the flagged steps, and he urged me up and took the treads one at a time, stepping sideways in an ungainly fashion.

  “Are you okay?” The words just slipped out.

  He grimaced. “Fine. Getting over an accident.”

  At the door, he stopped. “I’ll follow you in a moment, Miss Amaryllis.” He tipped his hat, turned, and headed for the young groundskeeper who strode into view.

  I pushed the strange conversation from my brain as I entered the house.

  “So, as you can see, Miss Amaryllis, if you wish to be of assistance to these ladies, then you will need to start by going out and meeting with them.” Delilah Simmonds sat on the edge of her seat, nodding at her own plan.

  Of course, I wanted to help the others who’d left Haven House and the horrible church they claimed was “God’s Will on Earth”, but fright held me tight in its fist. In the week since the sheriff’s visit—and I still didn’t know why he’d been here—I’d spoken with Gloriana about my future. Neither she nor Andrew saw any reason for me to change, but I wasn’t a girl to whom sitting still came easily.

  We’d discussed my painting, what I wanted to achieve with my life, but I’d kept so much in. The one thing Gloriana had pressed on me was a journal this morning. “Keep it with you, dear. When you’re ready to plan your future, this might be the first step in sharing it.”

  The tiny book resided in my pocket right now, and I surreptitiously patted it.

  Gloriana touched my knee lightly, bringing me back to the matter at hand and the women who’d gathered in the parlour. I’d lost track of the conversation and now knew all eyes rested on me.

  “Uh, forgive me, Mrs Simmonds. I was not attending fully.” I hated to admit I had no clue what they needed from me because I’d been lost in my own thoughts.

  “I was saying to your dear sister Gloriana that we could begin the visits tomorrow. Letitia Hemingswood is in a bad way, so very sick, and the future looks grim for her. Her children will be lost without her. You could visit with her, maybe take her a basket. That would be an ideal introduction to the women who’ve left Haven.”

  Letitia. The name didn’t ring any bells for me, but that meant little. She may have been one of the other scion’s wives.

  I glanced at Gloriana, well aware that I would need guidance and help. She nodded her assent, though her gaze was thoughtful as it rested on me.

  “Yes, of course,” I answered and then gave my attention to Mrs Simmonds once more.

  “Good,” she cooed, rising. “Let me know how you get along, Ms Coultihan.” She extended her hand, and I shook it, still very much at sea in the situation. Then I trailed Gloriana to the door.

  Once Evie shut it behind the woman and her entourage, I turned to Gloriana. “I don’t understand.” I moved back into the room, settling into one of the deep armchairs.

  “It’s a long story,” she answered, rubbing the tip of her finger over the creases that appeared on her brow. “Letitia was Reverend Cunningham’s last wife. I know much of the story from word of mouth, but I believe it to be reliable. She was very young and innocent at the time of their wedding. When the reverend passed on, his many wives were parcelled out like gifts. Some to his sons and others to men of the church. Only Junior and Master didn’t take any on. Letitia was given to the oldest man in the church, a man they considered to be worthy. He beat the children, particularly Letitia’s oldest child, and her because he said they were wicked. Letitia ran away with help from non-believers is what I understand. You didn’t hear about this?”

  I shook my head. “After you left, we were refused outside society, except the matrons and wives who were deemed worthy.”

  Gloriana’s countenance took on a thoughtful cast, as if she were considering what role she played in the drama of my life.

  “Daughters and the unwed were kept far away. All we knew was what the wives told us as we went about our chores.”

  Gloriana nodded. “Tomorrow, you and I will call on Letitia. It’s been some time since I visited with her. The children, by the sounds of it, will need some consideration if she is indeed as ill as Mrs Simmonds suggests.”

  “Of course.” I expected to be dismissed, but Gloriana continued to study me. “Is something amiss?”

  “No, dear. Just… I know you’re not happy. Is there anything I can do to assist?”

  I started at her query, nerves jumping just below the skin. “I’m not unhappy…” My voice petered away.

  Gloriana’s eyes widened with surprise, but she kept quiet while I thought about how to continue.

  My hands were clasped in my lap, and I held them tight, hoping not to betray my unease further. “I don’t know what you and Andrew expect of me.” I couldn’t help the lost tone from emerging and shrugged. “I’m here surrounded by this lovely… I don’t know what you want of me. I’m happy to clean, to cook, or anything. Just let me be useful.” The words tumbled free, and much as I may wish to call them back, there was no way to do so.

  Gloriana sighed and slumped farther down in her seat. “I know how you feel, but things are different in normal society. You’re the sister of the master of this house. You’re not supposed to work—”

  I opened my mouth, but she stayed me with a raised hand.

  “I understand, Amaryllis.” She nodded. “We were raised to believe a woman must be useful to the house in which she lives before marriage. To contribute to the overall good of those around us and their comfort. To prove our worthiness for marriage with assistance, expecting nothing back.”

  These words were the mantra I’d grown up by in that horrible house. Words that bit like acid deep into my brain. They may as well have been engraved into my skin, because they were words I’d abided by for so long.

  She reached toward me, entreating me to listen. “We can find a way forward, Ammy. One that suits both your needs and your new position.”

  “But what?” I couldn’t control the sudden need that bloomed in my chest. I needed to be useful, not for marriage or any other subservient will of the men of Haven but for me. To at least feel that I’d regained a bit of my personal identity.

  Gloriana moved so she now crouched on the floor in front of me. It was an incongruous sight, this woman, self-assured and immaculately dressed before me. “We start by showing others that the way of Haven is wrong. That we are worth more than simply to breed their next generation.”

  I wanted that so badly that I shook with the intensity. I clasped my hands together, trying to keep my body from vibrating. “I want to be useful.”

  She nodded. “Yes. So the first step is to dress you for the role you’re going to fulfil.”

  “Dress me?”

  Gloriana’s eyes glowed with something akin to unholy glee.

  “Yes. We show them that there are ways to be useful, not to be downtrodden. We dress you appropriately to your new status. We go out instead of cowering here like fragile glass. We take control.”

  Oh my. Those were indeed fighting words.

  “But what’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?”

  Gloriana smiled. “Nothing, but they’re mine. You have a style of your own, and we’ll show them we are unafraid to be individual.”

  “How?”

  “The dressmaker will be here soon, Amaryllis. We outfit you—”

  I shook my head. “The cost—”

  “Leave that to me. We won’t order more than you’re comfortable with, but you will need at least a full range of clothing. Day gowns, visiting gowns, and evening wear.”

  Shock filled me at her words. “I’ve never owned…” I gulped. “It’s too much.”

  She shook her head. “No. These are the basic and minimal needs of a woman in our world. The world you now inhabit. Let me guide you.”

  A step into the unknown if I took it, but one that would give me my place in a society I didn’t know. “Fine, then. But promise me I won’t be expected to marry without making my own choices.”

  “Your brother and I would never do that. If and when you’re ready, you make your own choices.”

  I nodded. “Then I accept.”

  Gloriana exhaled. “Excellent. Mrs Maycroft will be here soon to measure you and take on the ordering of your new wardrobe. Once that is arranged, we can order shoes and boots, wraps, gloves, and hats.” She rose and headed to the sideboard. “Have a cup of tea with me before we prepare.”

  I let her pour and accepted the cup she offered while silently considering what I’d agreed to and wondering what would come next.

  Did I make the right decision?

  Only time would tell, but it didn’t stop the sudden knotting in my belly.

  Chapter Three

  I looked at the boxes of clothing that were carted into what had become my bedroom. Shoes and various accoutrements seemed to cover every chair and side, while mounds of gowns, wraps, nightwear, and even fine underthings hid the bed from view.

  “Do I really need all this?” I whirled to face Gloriana, and she smiled.

  “Yes. This is just the start, my dear. She could rework clothing already in her workshop to arrange for an overnight delivery, and the shops had some of the other items we needed. Now, let’s see. Perhaps the violet walking gown with the white boots. You’ll need a matching cloak and gloves. I’ll send Evie along to assist you to dress and attend to your hair.” There was laughter in Gloriana’s words and a grin on her face.

  “But you said—”

  The grin fled, and the mirth was replaced with a serious look. “This is nothing compared to what many of the more well-to-do ladies have, Amaryllis.”

  So much stuff! I gazed back at the piles and found it hard to explain why I felt so discomforted with more than I’d ever had. Then I realised. I was out of my depth. Of course, Gloriana understood. She’d grown up in the same household. So why was I struggling when clearly she didn’t? “How did you manage it?”

  Gloriana touched my cheek. “How did I manage what?”

  “Come to be comfortable like this? With everything you need and more on hand.”

  She sighed and took my hand. “It takes lots of time, Ammy.”

  I clearly had no compass. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  “I know” was her response before she left me there in the room alone.

  The woman standing before me was one I didn’t know. Hair piled on top of my head, fastened with large metal combs, the gown hugging my body, so every aspect of my form was emphasised. Previously, the gowns I’d worn had been cinched in with a sash, ensuring the fit, while the bust was hit or miss, depending on which item of clothing was allocated to me daily.

  My shoes hugged my feet, but there was no sagging at the toe or heel, and they were new. Fitted for me.

  Evie returned and clasped the cloak around my shoulders. “Well, Miss Amaryllis, you look very nice indeed.”

  My eyes shone, emphasising the violet tinge, and when I accepted the tiny bag Evie thrust into my hands, I felt like another woman.

  “I still can’t believe this is me.”

  She grinned, and I returned it with a shy smile.

  “We should go down now. Miss Gloriana said she’ll wait, and they’ve ordered the horseless carriage for you both.”

  Horseless carriages. I knew Master and Junior had one, the invention making the most of the new steam-powered electric system, and I’d ridden in one during the fraught trip here, but apart from that, I’d never been in one.

  “Why don’t they have horses?”

  Evie smiled. “They do, but for these visits, Miss Gloriana prefers the horseless carriage. I think it’s so she can make a statement to the likes of her father and brother.” As if horrified, the maid slid her fingers over her mouth, eyes wide with remorse. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  I waved her concerns aside. I could well understand Gloriana’s thinking. She could and had made a good life for herself despite the stones her family had tossed at her. “I knew what you meant, and I take no offence. We should go down now.” I smiled at the maid. “Will you be accompanying us?”

  Evie shook her head, face still a hot red blush. “No, miss.” She ducked her head as I exited the room.

  At the bottom of the stairs waited Gloriana. She smiled and nodded as I descended the stairs. “Beautiful. Just as I hoped.” When I reached her, she took my hand and wound her arm around mine, so we were side by side and arm in arm. It was odd. I felt strangely pleased with her action. My experience left me wondering why I felt this way.

  She tugged me through the door, and I stepped up in the carriage after her. The door closed us inside, while the coachman sat in a tiny stall at the front.

  This time, I listened as we drove. It chugged and whirred, the wheels rolling down the drive and crunching on the stone. The gates clanged shut behind us, but not before I got a look at the inside of the gatehouse. Large rods and wheels turned.

  “Is that where the electricity for the house is generated?” I wondered aloud.

  Gloriana shook her head. “No. It merely powers the gates and the security systems.”

  I blinked. “Security systems?”

  “Yes. On that note, you must never venture outside at night without checking with Andrew or myself. We have automative dogs patrolling. The human handlers working with them carry tiny devices that allow them to deactivate them should the need arise, but Andrew assures me they bite just like a real dog.”

  I leaned back into the squabs. Automative dogs, electric lighting, and a steam-driven electric carriage. All things I knew nothing about. “Andrew… he’s rich. How did he make so much money?”

  Gloriana smiled. “He’s particularly clever with automatives. In fact, he designed our security dogs and several other automative things, including carriages. The royalties from his work paid for the house, staff, and everything else you see. He’s got several other patents pending. You should ask him about them over dinner.”

  I turned and looked out the window, amazed that we were almost in Haven's township. It hadn’t changed, and that seemed the most amazing fact of all, given the way my life had since I’d been whisked away some ten weeks or so ago.

  We drew close to the house where I’d lived for so many years. An imposing three-storey structure plonked down on the highest point in town. Some years ago, during one of the praise sessions Master headed, he’d told the story of them building the major portion.

  “And so, after travelling here for so long, my father noted Haven. A perfect place for the settlement of our people. The green hill close to a water supply and much flat land. Here we set down our roots. Here we planted the seeds of Haven, and here we will remain until the coming Rapture.”

  Master surveyed his domain, the florid colour in his cheeks betraying either his excitement or the various glasses he’d quaffed. Which one took precedence over the other, I couldn’t say. He raised his glass. “To one and all who embraces Haven and her ways, the doors of Restoration shall open to thee!”

  As one, the body had answered with fervent “Amens.”

  Thinking back now, I couldn't believe anyone actually accepted the words he’d professed to abide by. Maybe I’m questioning it because I never truly believed?

  The carriage slowed its stately roll and came to a stop outside a small broken-down haberdashery store. The walk was tilting, and the roofing appeared not just flimsy but broken and ready to fly away on the next gust of wind.

  “Here we are, Ammy, dear.” Before the driver could let himself out, Gloriana had the door open and was climbing down.

  I followed her, noting the small faces pressed against the dirty glass. “This is…?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I tried to find her a house and settle her medical bills, but she’s proud.”

  It occurred to me that Letitia Hemingswood had little but her pride left if this was where she lived. Gloriana picked her way along the boards, some broken and others rotted, holes appearing so one needed to be careful where they stepped.

  Before we knocked on the door, it swung wide, held by a woman in her late twenties. Her hair, sparse as it was, was striped with silver, her frame little more than a skeleton. “Mrs Coultihan, it’s a pleasure.”

  Once invited within, the children gathered around as Gloriana met each by name. “Now, Francesca, I have chalk and boards for you, as well as some books. If you’ll settle your sisters and brothers by the fire, I’ll pass some time with your mother and Amaryllis.”

  The oldest child, a girl of maybe thirteen or fourteen, looked at her with dull eyes but accepted the gift in silence.