A Woman’s Innocence Read online

  When Julia and Frances crowded through the door together, they found Sam just crawling out from beneath the billiard table, staring in dismay at Lucy’s tear-stained face. He rose to his feet.

  “May I help ye?” he asked her, then turned to look questioningly at the other two women.

  Lucy’s stare focused on his face, and Julia wondered if she was trying to see past the beard, past the years that had etched lines fanning out from Sam’s eyes, to the amiable big brother Lucy had only known for six short years.

  Frances closed the door, and the sound seemed to break some sort of spell.

  Lucy licked her lips and whispered, “Are you my brother?”

  He betrayed not a single emotion as he glanced at Julia. “What’s goin’ on here?”

  “Stop it!” Lucy cried. “I asked you a question and I deserve an answer!”

  He still pinned Julia with his stare, until she almost felt guilty. “She saw me standing beneath my portrait.”

  Sam took a deep breath and faced Lucy again. His whole demeanor softened, gentled, and his smile held a love that made Julia’s eyes sting.

  “Yes, I’m your brother.”

  Julia expected more anger, but Lucy simply flung herself at Sam and began to sob. He folded her tightly in his embrace and just hung on.

  “It’s all right, baby,” he murmured, over and over again.

  Frances wiped away a tear and smiled at Julia.

  As the truth was slowly explained, Lucy fired question after question at Sam, never letting go of his hand. They told her almost everything, because how could they keep it a secret and allow her to risk her life by saying the wrong thing? But they didn’t let her know that Lewis’s henchman was nearby, a constant threat.

  When Sam finally stopped speaking, Lucy just stared at him for several moments.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know it was you,” she said softly. “Your hair color, your eyes—”

  “It’s been a long time, and we’ve both changed. You’ve grown into a lovely young woman.”

  “A stupid young woman,” she said, blushing.

  “Don’t be upset, Lucy. My training is such that if you had recognized me, I wouldn’t be doing a very good job. Henry already proved that to me.”

  “Henry knows, too?” she cried in dismay.

  “Shh!” Frances looked over her shoulder at the closed door. “This is why you weren’t told. You’re much too loud!”

  “I can be quiet! How can I help?”

  Sam rose to his feet and looked down at her sternly. “You can help by staying away from us and behaving in a normal fashion. There are dangers all around us, and if we’re captured, I don’t want you brought to the attention of the law.”

  “But—” Lucy glanced at Julia for the first time, then looked away. “Surely I can help, if Miss Julia is.”

  Julia leaned toward her and spoke with deep sincerity. “My life is at stake, Lucy. By helping me, Sam has put his own life on the line, and that scares me more than anything. But at least I know he can take care of himself. Please don’t make me worry about you, too! I don’t know what I’d do if you—or any of Sam’s family—were hurt.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she tried to wipe them away with her fingertips before they could ruin her cosmetics. She felt Sam’s gaze on her, knew he wanted to comfort her, but would not in front of his family. She understood his motives, though feeling like their relationship was a shameful secret hung heavy on her heart.

  He looked solemnly at his youngest sister. “Lucy, remember it is our duty to help Miss Julia.”

  Julia felt mildly annoyed by his words and tone.

  “She is one of our employers, and without her family, our life could have been severe. We should be grateful.”

  Grateful? Julia was appalled at such submissive advice. She could not imagine why he was going on in such a way. But she could hardly question him in front of his sisters.

  To distract herself, she brightly said to Lucy, “Do you know I remember when your sisters and I used to pretend you were our baby doll?”

  When Lucy smiled, Frances said, “Not me, of course. I was too often saddled with the real responsibility of watching over you. And you’re still a difficult child.”

  Lucy laughed.

  Smiling, Sam chucked Lucy under the chin and walked to the door. “Ladies, I have much left to do today, so I’ll bid you farewell.”

  He left, closing the door behind him, and the three women looked at each other.

  Julia found herself the sudden object of Lucy’s scrutiny.

  “So you’ve spent a lot of time with Sam,” Lucy began slowly.

  She willed herself not to blush, and prayed the cosmetics would hide any suspicious color. “He rescued me, and is doing his best to prove my innocence.”

  “Does he talk about his family at all?”

  Frances started to scold her sister, but Julia shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ll answer that. It’s been very difficult to be here and not tell his family who he is. He loves you all so much. We don’t want any of you in danger.”

  “But so many of us know—why not our mother? After all, she hasn’t seen her son in fourteen years. And God forbid, if he’s killed in this dangerous situation, how will she feel when she discovers that he was so close and wouldn’t see her?”

  Julia’s stomach twisted with sickness and fear at the thought of Sam lost to her—and his family—for all time.

  “If my mother knows the truth,” Lucy continued patiently, “who is she going to tell, when she so seldom leaves the cottage?”

  “Why doesn’t she leave the cottage?” Julia asked with concern.

  “She’s not well. She insisted on coming to the harvest dance last night, but we were all worried for her health. She talks about Sam a lot lately, and I know she feels like she’s going to die without ever seeing him again.”

  Julia walked away from the sisters, looking out the window as if she could see the little gardener’s cottage nestled within a riot of colorful flowers. She’d always thought it looked enchanted, with its pretty thatched roof and air of peaceful stillness.

  What if Sam’s mother was truly ill? If Julia continued to keep mother and son apart, how would she live with herself if Mrs. Sherryngton died?

  But Sam certainly would not listen to this argument. He would think his family’s safety was more important. Maybe Julia was thinking with her heart, but she felt it was telling her strongly that Sam and his mother should be reunited, regardless of the danger.

  “All right,” she finally said, turning back to the Sherryngton sisters. “We can’t tell Sam to go to his mother—he’ll refuse, thinking he’s protecting her.”

  “Then we’ll have to trick him,” Lucy said, with a bit too much glee.

  Frances sighed heavily. “He’ll be upset with us for lying to him.”

  “But your mother will be comforted,” Julia said in a gentle voice.

  So together they agreed on a plan.

  During luncheon with the staff, it took every bit of Sam’s attention to focus on staying within his character, rather than dwelling on his unsuccessful search of the house. Lucy and Frances were not in attendance. He overheard that they’d gone to shop in the village together, which made him worried. But at least they were together.

  Sam wanted to take out every bit of his frustration on their attacker’s face, but he reminded himself that this case was closer to being solved than before. He was beginning to think they’d need Lewis himself to wrap everything up.

  After luncheon, in her no-nonsense constable voice, Julia requested a moment of his time. When they were alone in their private sitting room, standing as far from the door as possible, she looked up at him with her big soulful eyes and asked what they were going to do about the statue.

  He blinked at her, wondering how she could so easily affect him with just a look. He felt a desperation to be a part of her again, like time was slipping away from them. And it was. These brief mome
nts with her, this enforced intimacy, would soon be gone. Two constables couldn’t just remain at Hopewell Manor indefinitely. There wasn’t much left to search.

  The statue had to be the key.

  “We need to talk to my brother about Venus,” Sam said grimly. “He’ll be better able to tell us when Lewis had it brought in, who did the work. Maybe he can discover if the base is hollow.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go find Henry.”

  Sam was disappointed to find out that Henry wouldn’t be on the estate for the rest of the day. He looked back at the manor, fists on his hips, and thought of finishing the indoor searching, but he just couldn’t do it, not when there was a statue with hidden secrets.

  And nagging at his thoughts was a dark shadow, a question about why Henry, who was as dedicated to his work as their father had been, would leave for the day. First Frances and Lucy, now Henry. Was someone in their family ill?

  Julia softly spoke some of his thoughts aloud. “Sam, we can’t wait another day to find out about the statue. If Henry can help us—”

  “I know. Let’s walk to the cottage. We’ll keep to the main path for safety’s sake.”

  As they walked through the gardens and past the orchard to the gardener’s cottage, he constantly surveyed their surroundings. He almost wanted their assailant to strike right now, so Sam would have an excuse to relieve his frustration. Thoughts churned through his mind. Lately, he’d been experiencing the strongest urge to take Julia’s hand, to show the world what she meant to him.

  For what purpose? he asked himself bitterly. Was he just trying to show everyone that the gardener’s son could seduce the daughter of the household?

  But he knew it wasn’t that. It was Julia herself he wanted to convince, to show her that their brief time together meant the world to him.

  Too soon they reached the kitchen garden on one side of his brother’s cottage.

  He slowed down. “Why don’t you go inside and ask Henry to come out?”

  Julia had only gone past the gate when suddenly the front door opened. Sam stared in shock as his entire family started spilling out, coming down the stone walkway: Henry grinning; Abigail and Alice wearing sunny smiles; Frances and Lucy looking guilty but pleased; and lastly his mother, who stared at him while tears ran down her face.

  Julia gave him a little push. “Go on, they’re waiting,” she murmured.

  This was all wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking a few hesitant steps up the path, even as he looked about to make sure no one else observed this startling family reunion.

  And then he had his mother in his arms, and Abigail and Alice tried to hug him at the same time, their pregnant bellies bumping him and each other. He closed his eyes and just hung on.

  “Oh, Samuel,” his mother murmured over and over again.

  From behind, Henry laughed. “Why don’t we let him come inside, Mama? He still needs to keep his secrets.”

  Sam grinned down at his mother, who slipped her hand around his arm and let him escort her. When they were all inside and the door was closed, the house was noisy and overly warm with so many bodies—but full of the good smells and sounds of home. Sam knew that Frances, Julia, and Lucy had tricked him into coming here, but he tried not to let himself worry. It was too late for that.

  His mother didn’t let go of his hand as he answered all their questions. He only told enough not to worry them too deeply, and he promised that he and Julia were close to finding out the truth.

  His mother turned to study Julia. “I thought I knew you from somewhere, miss, but never thought you were hiding your gender. Certainly fooled Lucy, who has talked of nothing but Constable Fitzjames for days.”

  Lucy’s face went fiery red once again. “Sam taught Miss Julia to hide herself, and she did it well.”

  Sam grew uncomfortable when his mother looked from him to Julia, then narrowed her eyes in worry. He knew what she was thinking. She’d always warned him that he was too close to the daughter of the household, that he would only get himself hurt in the end.

  And she’d been right. But he couldn’t do anything else but helplessly follow Julia as long as he was able. She needed his protection.

  Yet for her sake, he also needed to put as much distance between them as he could—even if only during the day. With resignation, he let his mother draw him into Henry and Sarah’s bedroom, which had once been her own.

  She held his hands and looked up at him. “Even after all this time, Samuel, you still look at Miss Julia without the proper respect.”

  He closed his eyes. “We’re friends, Mama. I can’t help that.”

  “But you always want more than you should have. And it can only come to a bad end.”

  “I know, I know. I’m heading back to the army as soon as I’m finished here.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You only hurt her by letting her think otherwise.”

  Hurt her? Even though the cold truth was between him and Julia? Didn’t his mother know how hurt he was?

  But she was right, and he understood that. He had to show Julia that nothing could change between them—even though everything had.

  His mother smiled at him. “Come spend time with us before you leave again, Samuel. You have been gone too long.”

  He kissed her cheek and led her back into the main room of the cottage, understanding her unspoken worry that she might not be here the next time he came home. He didn’t know what to do or say, but he couldn’t linger here, regretting the past.

  Sam turned to Henry. “We need your help in the gardens. Can you come now?”

  When the brothers walked to the door, their mother rose too slowly to her feet. Sam winced.

  “Samuel, when will you come back?”

  “Not until this is over, Mama. It’s too dangerous for everyone involved. And two of your daughters knew that.”

  He glanced at Lucy and Frances, who both quickly looked away.

  His mother patted his hand. “It’s enough to see you again, to know in my heart that you’re alive and healthy. I’ll keep you and Miss Julia in my prayers.”

  “Just don’t be whispering those prayers aloud,” he said, kissing her forehead.

  Chapter 22

  The afternoon was full of a mellow warmth and hazy sunshine as Sam, Julia, and Henry stared up at Venus in puzzlement. Henry had tried everything short of using his tools on the statue, and was just offering to fetch those when Julia shook her head, understanding that Sam had something else in mind.

  Henry scowled. “But if we don’t open it—”

  “Oh, we’ll see it opened,” Sam said, giving a cold smile. “Only we’ll be watching Lewis do it. It’s time to lure him north.”

  Julia and Sam closeted themselves in their sitting room the rest of the afternoon to work on the letter to Lewis. She was ready for Sam’s demeanor to change this time, and she watched it steal over him in fascination and dread.

  Every tender expression on his face, in his eyes, the ones that she cherished whenever he looked at her in private, disappeared. He had a distance, a coldness in his eyes, in his voice when he began to talk about Lewis, about what they would have to do to lure her brother to Hopewell Manor. She always felt at times like these that she was glimpsing Sam the Soldier, a man who had to submerge his good-natured qualities to take on a role that didn’t come easily to him.

  “We can’t write anything about the clues we’ve discovered in the house,” Sam said, “or he’ll think it’s either us or one of his servants. I’d rather pretend to be a villager, someone who saw him take money from the statue one night.”

  “But what if the money isn’t hidden there?”

  He gave her a brief smile. “We’ll just say that we saw him take the money, but not from where, that maybe we think he’s involved in the crime with his sister. That way we’re not claiming you’re innocent, which might make him suspicious of us. The letter could be from a disgruntle
d merchant who was owed money for a long time.”

  “That’s all well and good, but what will we do once he gets here?” she asked. “Won’t it only be our word against his that we saw him go to the statue?”

  “That’s why we’re going to consult someone beyond reproach,” he said with satisfaction. “I’m sending a note to my old spymaster, Colonel Whittington, to ask his advice. He’ll know the best way to prove to the government that you’re innocent, and that your brother is the true criminal.”

  Julia shivered at the thought of revealing their whereabouts. “Are you sure he can be trusted? After all, you, Nick, and Will all believed I was guilty.”

  From across the desk, Sam started to reach for her, then pulled back. “We have proof now, Julia. We can convince the colonel. I’ll get Henry to take a letter by train to Lewis in London—”

  “But won’t Henry be in danger?”

  “I’ll make him promise to leave the letter without being seen.”

  “And what about the message to Colonel Whittington?”

  “I’ll ask Abigail’s husband to help us. I remember him from long ago—although I never would have thought my sister would fall in love with him.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Can you trust me?”

  Oh, she trusted him. But there were clouds in his eyes, hiding his thoughts, and she wondered if he trusted himself.

  For two days, while they waited for their letters to work, Julia watched Sam immerse himself in his ongoing search of the manor. During the day he seemed to hold her away, now that the end was approaching. He treated her with a deference that bothered her, as if he were already putting her back on her pedestal as the master’s daughter. Their partnership seemed fragile, no longer equal. He actually deferred to her about the order of the rooms they searched, as if her station in life mattered more than his knowledge and experience.

  Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to reunite him with his family. She vividly remembered the sad way Mrs. Sherryngton had looked at her, as if she understood Julia’s every emotion, and knew Julia would be hurt in the end—when Sam went back to his place in life, his station beneath her.