Lyon Hearted, page 2
“Oh, leave off the veil, Li-Na. The two of us look like old crows sometimes, and I’m not of a mind to feel that way today.”
As was customary, the lady wore her usual widow’s attire, but the veil was dumped in the corner. And whereas Li-Na didn’t exactly wear mourning, her grey dress was so dark as to be black and her veil made it seem as if they were two old ladies huddled in the back of a church.
Ever obedient, Li-Na pulled off her veil and folded it carefully in front of her, then she stood waiting. Mrs. Dove-Lyon released a heavy sigh as she gestured to the chair set beside her.
“Sit down, please. Li-Na, we’ve known each other for five years and yet you still act like a pensioner around me. Are you truly that unhappy here?”
Li-Na titled her head in confusion. “I am very happy.” She had food, clothing, and safety. Given that Mrs. Dove-Lyon had won her in a card game from a slaver, Li-Na would do anything to prevent a return to her former life. Plus, she was well paid for her services. That was an extraordinary life for a servant. But she also knew that could change, and so she remained respectful and never took liberties unless invited. “I appreciate my life here, Bessie,” she said. Her voice softened into informality as she as she settled on the chair.
“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”
Li-Na didn’t answer. She knew that Bessie prized honesty between herself and her employees, but it went too far against Li-Na’s training for her to mention unhappiness about anything. She’d become a maid at the age of six and learned quickly that she lived a blessed life as companion to a wealthy girl. She had food, clothing, and an education absorbed as she sat next to her young mistress. Even now, after the hideous manner of her move to London, she had much more than the people who had sired her. They might be in China, but she had food and a job in cold, grim London. Only a fool would risk losing that.
Meanwhile, Bessie could not stop her reforming spirit. “You are no longer a slave, Li-Na. You may speak freely.”
“You bought me from the slaver—”
“He lost you at the gaming table. You are free.”
Li-Na looked down at her hands. Free was a word she didn’t believe in, mostly because it made no sense. Rich and poor made sense. Well-fed and hungry made sense. Free meant nothing if one was poor, hungry, or sick. She went where she had food, money, and health, and she never, ever complained about it because that was the fastest way to lose whatever she had.
Meanwhile, Bessie pursed her lips. This was an old conversation between them. They shared tea together regularly and every time the woman coaxed her to talk. They had found common ground when discussing the den’s finances and the lady’s reforming passions, but Li-Na never lost awareness that she could be thrown out on a whim. And then where would she go in this cold, foreign land?
“Have you given any more thought to taking a holiday?” the lady pressed. “England has some lovely corners that an artist like you could paint. A seaside retreat, perhaps?”
Li-Na shook her head. The idea appealed, of course, but not what would happen here. If she left, then other girls would take her place in the cage. They would tally the den’s receipts, and what would she do then? The other girls—the British girls—could find jobs. They could take their skills to other businesses, other towns. As women, it would be hard but not impossible. Li-Na was a foreigner. People did not trust their money to women such as her. Only Mrs. Dove-Lyon did such a thing, and Li-Na would not risk losing her place. No holiday now was worth starvation later.
“Li-Na.”
Her name was spoken with such exasperation that she looked up in surprise.
“Your job will be here when you come back. Can’t you trust me in that?”
Trust was another word she couldn’t embrace. No matter how many reassurances she received, Li-Na never lost the fear of being thrown out in the cold to die. She believed that Bessie did not intend to abandon her, but how often did a woman have control of the world around her?
Which meant the squiggles twisted her belly into knots. “What do you wish me to do?”
“Enjoy yourself? Go to a party?”
Li-Na tilted her head. How was she to do that? She wasn’t ever invited to parties. Fortunately, Bessie waved her hand as if brushing aside a small matter.
“Don’t look so horrified. It was a joke, I suppose. Though it would make me supremely happy if you did either of those things.” The lady sighed. “I acknowledge that your entertainment options are limited. You’re not the usual sort to mingle with the upstairs girls.”
“And the wealthy ladies will have nothing to do with either of us.” Bessie had the same social problems Li-Na did.
“Which is why I believe it’s time for you to find different company. Just for a short time.”
The squiggles froze solid inside her as did everything else.
“A friend of mine has asked me for help. His older brother has died leaving a widow and two small children. The lady cannot manage the large estate, so he has stepped in to help. But the accounting books are in disarray, and he does not trust the steward.” Bessie pinned Li-Na with a firm stare. “I have told him that you can help him.”
“Me?”
“Of course, you. You’ve set up our accounts so that even I understand them.”
“You are much smarter than you pretend.”
“Naturally,” the lady said with a smile. “All clever women are, including you.” She took a small piece of cheese off the nearby tray and nibbled delicately on it. “The estate is in Cornwall, and he has purchased a ticket for you on tomorrow’s coach.” She passed a thin piece of paper to Li-Na. “He’ll meet you at the posting inn and set you up.”
Li-Na gaped at Bessie. Her breath was short, and it felt as if the squiggles inside her had puffed up to bursting. She felt choked by them. “Tomorrow?”
“Morning. Evie will take your place in the cage. She’s ready, isn’t she? I’ll just have to remind her to whisper.”
Li-Na wanted to lie, but she couldn’t force herself to betray the woman who had saved her from a much worse fate. Slaves could not be legally traded in England, but those who came in a slave remained so. Unless lost to Mrs. Dove-Lyon in a card game. “Please don’t send me away,” she whispered. She only felt safe when she was near Bessie.
The lady sighed, the exhale accompanying her as she drooped in her seat. “I’m not sending you away,” she said. “Half the country has gone off to paint Cornwall. It’s beautiful. Surely you can find some enjoyment there?”
Li-Na mimicked the lady’s sigh. “London is beautiful. Surely I can find some entertainment here.”
“If so, you would have done it in the last five years. Indeed, I’d hoped your friendship with Baron Easterly would help you come out of your shell some.”
Baron Easterly had helped her. Three years ago, she’d tired of being the mystery woman every gentleman wanted to seduce. It was her friend Amber Gohar, now Countess Morthan, who had suggested the arrangement. The baron needed people to believe in his “sexual prowess,” and she had needed a protector to keep everyone away. So she and Bessie had spun a lively tale, and he kept everyone away from her. Including himself.
They’d spent several lovely evenings playing cards, and she had learned that not all men were beasts. But now with the baron’s gout paining him, he no longer came to London and had released her as his “mistress.” The gentlemen once again tried to prey upon her, which had forced her to become more reclusive than before. Which is why she had run in terror when that man had tried to talk to her in Hyde Park.
But Bessie was right. Life was becoming too restrictive. She sometimes felt like she spent every day in a cage of her own making. Perhaps it was time to escape the tight confines of London. She could do it for a week. Perhaps. But the idea still made her tighten with fear.
“Now don’t look so glum,” Bessie pressed. “You can come back as soon as Lord Daniel is satisfied with your work.”
“Perhaps he will be satisfied with Evie’s work,” she offered. Evie was a strong woman with a sharp mind. She also excelled in fisticuffs learned from the bouncers at the den. “I will go somewhere for a holiday. Perhaps down to Dover for a week.”
Bessie reached forward enough to wrap her fingers around Li-Na’s clenched hands. “This will be good for you. You’ll get out of London for the summer while it’s so beastly hot.”
“The whole summer?” she gasped.
Bessie nodded. “Do you really want to molder away here for the rest of your life? Before long you will be old and wrinkled having never seen more than this place and Hyde Park.”
“I like it here.”
“You are stuck here. Like a frozen woman inside a picture frame. It’s time you broke free. Now don’t fret. You’ll be perfectly safe with Lord Daniel. He’s…well, he’s eccentric, but he won’t hurt you. Plus, I’ve negotiated with him on your behalf. You’ll only work mornings then have the rest of the day to do whatever you want. Think of it like a holiday. You can paint or wander. You’ll be perfectly safe there. You have my word and Lord Daniel’s promise on that.”
A promise? That was like free. It meant nothing if circumstances changed. She’d learned to live inside a few square miles of London, and now she was being sent to where? Cornwall? She knew nothing of that place. How would they react to a Chinese woman? Would Lord Daniel protect her like Bessie had? Doubtful. Would she be expected to do more than just the account books? She wouldn’t.
“Unless…” Bessie said, stretching out the word to pique Li-Na’s interest.
“Yes?”
“Sell some of your paintings. Give them to me and I will see that they—”
“No.”
“Why not? You trust me, don’t you?”
She did. The woman had proved herself honorable many times over. But selling her paintings was like trying to sell her thoughts. And the one time she shared herself that way, her entire life had ended. She had been sold to a slaver the very next day, all because she’d put her love on paper and given it away.
But those thoughts she kept close. Instead, she chose a convenient truth. “In England, women do not usually sell their paintings.”
Bessie nodded. “True, true. But what if you could?”
Li-Na’s hand tightened on her cup and her breath froze in her chest. It wasn’t a small reaction. She literally couldn’t breathe. And though she tried to hide it, Bessie saw it nonetheless. Her eyes widened and she immediately rose from her chair. She gripped Li-Na’s hands in hers and said slowly, “You are safe. No one is here to hurt you. No one will take your paintings.”
Eventually, her breath eased. In time, she could look away from Bessie’s concerned expression. And once she could do that, she could admit the total irrationality of her reaction. There was no reason for her response, and yet, this is what happened whenever she thought of giving away or selling her art.
“Why does this happen to you, Li-Na?” Bessie pressed. “What is it?”
“It was how I came to be here,” she whispered. “It was why I was sold to the slaver.” Because she had given a painting to the man she loved. And in return, her entire life had been forfeit.
“That won’t happen again.”
Probably not. But she had no control over her body’s reaction and so her paintings would remain her own. Meanwhile, Bessie sat back down and regarded her with troubled eyes.
“You need a change, Li-Na. Something—anything—that will break you from being trapped here.”
No, no, no! But she could see that Bessie’s mind was already made up.
“It’s time for you to stretch your wings, and Cornwall has plenty of room for that. I’ll still be here when it’s time to come back.” She paused as she studied Li-Na’s face. “He’s paying you handsomely for the work.”
“I don’t need more money. You give me plenty.”
“I don’t give you anything, Li-Na. I pay you. You’re free.”
There was that word again, but it only meant something if she had somewhere to go. She didn’t. In London she had food, shelter, and a job. She wouldn’t have that even in China. And she had no idea what waited for her in Cornwall.
“You’re going,” Bessie said, her voice firm. “If you can’t trust him, trust me.”
Li-Na felt her head dip in a resignation. Inside, her squiggles finally burned out, turning into ash that coated her tongue and deadened her belly. If she was so free, then how could Bessie order her to leave?
Chapter Three
She appeared to Daniel like a lump of fine loam, which is to say, Miss Lina looked like dirt. She wore a dust-covered dark cloak, a tattered widow’s veil, and he heard the heavy clomp of men’s boots as she descended from the mail coach. He knew her immediately, of course. Despite the way she seemed to drop from the carriage onto the ground. He knew she was taller than she appeared, but she had chosen to be small now. Her hands were hidden, her valise was minimal, and she moved as little as possible as she looked around the inn yard.
And yet as he looked at her formless shape, all he saw was potential. He knew the things she painted in the morning when she thought no one cared. He knew because Mrs. Dove-Lyon had shown him then. She’d also explained that Miss Lina had come to England on a slave ship, been freed by Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and had worked as a bookkeeper ever since.
A bookkeeper! When she could paint such amazing things? It was criminal, and so he vowed to bring her here where she would have sun, good food, and room to grow.
He stood as was his wont, with his hands in his pockets and his face shielded from the sun, though it was nearing dusk. He didn’t move from his place next to his horse in the corner of the posting inn. He was there to see that his housekeeper found Miss Lina, greeted her respectfully, then escorted her to his home. He employed Mrs. Hocking because she had a good eye for what he wanted disturbed and what he did not. She also made excellent cream tea and hevva cake. He’d sent her to pick up Miss Lina because Mrs. Hocking was the only female in his household and therefore a better choice than his gardener. Unfortunately, he was mistaken in that.
Mrs. Hocking was busy eating her dinner from a basket meant for Miss Lina. She hastened to finish it as the other passengers scattered, leaving the lady to stand awkwardly in the center of the yard. His housekeeper finished her food, cleaned up the crumbs on her dress, then hopped down from the cart seat.
“You Miss Lina?” she called, her voice loud enough to be heard throughout the courtyard.
His new bookkeeper turned at the call. If she said anything, he couldn’t hear it.
“A’right. Toss yer things in there.” Mrs. Hocking pointed to the back of the cart. It was not the proper way to handle a lady, but then Mrs. Hocking wasn’t a London servant who knew how to greet a woman. She was all business which—up until now—hadn’t bothered him.
Fortunately, Miss Lina didn’t seem to mind. She set her bag in the back of the cart, then stood there with her head bowed and her hands hidden away.
“Best use the privy ’ere,” continued his housekeeper. “His lordship got the only good pot and it’s a long haul taking yer piss out at the castle.”
Daniel frowned. What a thing to say! And it wasn’t true, was it? But what did he know about his servants’ privy habits?
Miss Lina hesitated, probably because she didn’t understand Mrs. Hocking’s heavy accent.
“Go on, then! Right over there.” Mrs. Hocking stabbed her fingers in the appropriate direction, but in the end, she had to lead the way. Miss Lina followed, still looking like formless dirt somehow floating across the innyard. Daniel waited, his misgivings gnawing at him. Should he have picked the girl up himself? Mrs. Dove-Lyon had told him Miss Lina was skittish around men, and it would be best if he had a woman to settle her in. How a woman who worked in a gaming hell could be skittish around men was beyond his understanding. Either way, he’d selected Mrs. Hocking and now his housekeeper was eating more of Miss Lina’s food while the lady used the inn privy.
Hell.
He was about to take over when Miss Lina emerged. She glided back across the yard to where Mrs. Hocking was climbing into the cart. Miss Lina made it to the side and waited as if she didn’t know whether to climb onto the bench or into the back of the cart with the sack of last season’s potatoes Mrs. Hocking purchased at the inn. Eventually his housekeeper jerked her chin toward the bench.
“Up you go,” she said.
There was a moment’s hesitation and no wonder. Miss Lina wore a great deal of fabric. She had to gather her skirts as she climbed. Eventually she managed it while Daniel admired the flash of shapely calf. Then he watched Mrs. Hocking shove the half empty basket into Miss Lina’s lap before clucking at the mule that drew the cart. A moment later, the animal started plodding his way to the castle.
Daniel watched them go, frowning as he mounted his own horse. It would take them the better part of an hour to get to his crumbling front door. He’d make it in a fraction that time if that were his destination. Unfortunately, he had work to finish in the opposite direction. It had been a wet spring, but summer was drying things out quickly. He had one last wheat field to walk, checking for areas that needed water, and then he would go greet his guest.
That was his plan, except nothing ever went according to plan. There were dry patches in his tenant’s field, so he helped carry water as needed. That was backbreaking work that he did alone because his tenant Bob Mellin was laid up with a broken leg. Truth be told, Bob Mellin was often laid up. The man was a drunken sot, but his wife and two children deserved better, so Daniel helped when he could.
Didn’t make it easier, though, when he heard the bastard cursing his wife and kids from his bed while Daniel kicked the mud off his boots from doing the man’s work. Bob Mellin was a waste of a human being.
“Hello, Anne,” he called out as he knocked on the open cottage door. “How are you doing today?”
