Sophie Dash - Unmasking Of A Lady

“How much do you owe, Giddeon?”

“Nothing I can easily pay back.”

“You mean to duel him again, this Barrow, don’t you?”

“I do not know.”

“He almost killed you last time.”

“Sister, the last time was no duel,” muttered Giddeon, tense, as if waiting for her to send him away, refuse him. “His hired thugs attacked me, tried to shake me up, that was all.”

“But you owe him money.”

“He’s a crook. It does not matter how the cards had been played; he always would have won.”

“He’s been cheating?”

“He has, and I’ll find my proof.”

Harriet heaved a long, humming sigh and kept her neutral gaze on the passing scenery. Far better to scowl at the meadowsweet and foxgloves than at her brother. Though she was only a year older than him, there seemed a greater distance between them, for where he had shunned responsibility and the real world’s harshness, she had shouldered it and done her best to carry on. Women, she had observed in her meagre twenty-two years, often carried far more burdens than the men they loved could ever hope to fathom.

“I know you miss our mother,” said Harriet finally. “Because I do too, more than anything. And I know it has been hard for you, but this cannot go on.”

“I know.”

“You need to talk to Father.”

“I do,” agreed Giddeon, a hand on his shoulder, still sore and stiff. “I am truly sorry, Harry. I have been a fool, I’ve burnt nearly all my bridges and yet here you are.”

“What’s done is done,” replied Harriet, unable to keep the disappointment from her tone. “All there is to do now is move forwards. Don’t punish yourself for the past, when there are others who’ll gladly do that for you. This Barrow, he means to kill you, doesn’t he?”

“Undoubtedly,” said Giddeon. “I cannot pay him and if I cannot prove him a liar, he’ll finish what he started.”

“Then we’ll find the money.”

“How? There’s nothing left. We’ve no backers; there’s no help for us.”

“There’s a ship, The Sapphire – it’s a solid investment.”

“But you can’t invest if you’ve not gathered the funds.”

“I have,” explained Harriet, watching her sibling’s eyes widen, in greed or gratitude, she couldn’t be sure. She’d said too much not to say the rest. “Or, at least, I will soon. There’s still time, though it isn’t long before the vessel’s maiden voyage. I have been assured by varying sources that the risk will pay off within six months, if we can hold on. Only do not tell Father, for if it falls through, his health won’t take it.”

Giddeon slumped in his seat, relieved, head falling back and eyes on the carriage’s ceiling. “How did you end up the sensible one? At least we have you to uphold the family name, Harry.”

Harriet’s expression grew clouded and though she wished to find a dark humour in his words, she could not. “Indeed we do.”

“Although,” observed Giddeon, “if we both flounder, there will always be Ellen.”

Harriet smiled a fond smile. “I have a feeling that she will be the best of all three of us.”

For at this rate, it would not be difficult.

***

The moment that the carriage cleared the trees and rambled up the drive to Atworth House was the split second when Ellen – along with her hound – abandoned her studies and ran full pelt to greet her sister. And when she saw her brother, her green eyes grew ever wider.

“You’re back!” Ellen flung her arms around the young man with no thought to his injuries. And even though she hurt him, he was pleased to see her, for no one could stay unhappy around the girl. “I have so much to tell you! Are you staying long? Please, say you are!”

She chattered on, like a miniature Aunt Georgia, asking question after question while the dog yapped around their ankles and demanded to be picked up (even if it was getting fatter, for Harriet had not been there to prevent it being entirely spoilt).

Their father, under the guise of investigating the noise, came to greet them and though he offered no harsh words, Harriet was all too aware of Giddeon’s guilt and his shame. She left them to talk, knowing that their father was too soft and too kind to ever truly be angry with his son.

As for Harriet, she needed peace – time to think, time to plan. A shadow rested upon her skin – the remnants of a man, his touch, those grey eyes that held intensity, warmth and a remedy to all the doubt she had ever felt about herself. And he was far from her reach, due to her own criminal actions. Did she want him because she could not have him? No, she was not so simple a creature as to fall for such silly fancies. She only knew that whatever she felt had to be forgotten, for her own sake and her family’s.

Though the afternoon was wearing thin and evening was only a few hours away, Harriet took her younger sister to the river with a basket packed with bread and cheese and supplies, to play and breathe the outdoor air they both so loved. Even Harriet kicked off her shoes and hitched up her skirts to paddle in the shallows – bitingly cold, but refreshing after being cooped up for so long. The water was low and the banks steep, for the unusually hot weather had chased the moisture away. Summer’s fair turn would not last, it never did, but Harriet was determined to enjoy it while she could.

There would be risks to take in the days to come, a choice to make that could undo them all.

There was no stopping Ellen from her delight. She threw sticks for Millie, barely pausing to eat, and ran around the fields with a wagging tail following her. It was freedom. When Ellen grew cold, Harriet wrapped her in the blanket she had been lying upon and promised her they would go to the river again soon. Even the dog seemed exhausted as they walked back across the fields, trailed by twilight, to warm up their chilled skin inside.

“I almost forgot,” said Harriet, after they were sat by the drawing room’s fire, with Ellen half asleep as she listened to her sister read. “I bought you a present. I shall give it to you tomorrow morning.”

Though filled with slumber, the words roused the youngest of the pair. “Present?”

“Two matching ribbons for you and Millie: one for her collar and the other for your hair.”

Ellen smiled into her sister’s skirts, mumbling thanks and looking far too young to deal with all that the future would throw at her.

***

Sunday dawned, a dry morning that swept up the dew and promised another warm day with a cloudless blue dome above. Up past the river and over a cart bridge sat the nearby village and its parish church. A service would begin soon and the bells had already tolled, summoning those who lived nearby. The Groves family disturbed jumpy rabbits, looping swifts and darting swallows on their journey there – a short walk that got the blood flowing and put colour into their cheeks. Giddeon walked ahead, his recovery going well as he strode hand in hand with Ellen, fists swinging as they chattered and laughed.

Harriet walked with her father, her arm hooked into his, both with a solemn air. Mr Groves cleared his throat lightly and Harriet steeled herself for the conversation. She knew all he would say, for they were of the same ilk, the same sensibility, the same practicality. As if feeling her muscles tense, her father released a weary sigh.

“I know you loathe this subject, but your marriage to a good, wealthy family would see off our troubles,” he began, voice soft and tired with age. “I am not long for this world and – ”

“That is nonsense, Father,” said Harriet quickly, plucking yellowed grass from her sleeve, as though she could cast aside his words so easily. She had lost one parent not so long ago; she hated the prospect of losing another.