Chapter One
At this moment, Miss Hannah Setterington could
unequivocally state that she was alone. Completely,
absolutely, bleakly alone. As she let her valise slide with
a thud onto the wooden boards of the railway platform, she
looked around in the Lancashire twilight. No building rose
among the encroaching trees. Nowelcoming light beckoned
through a shaded window, no human voices grumbled or
laughed, and the faint city glow that surrounded London
even on the darkest of nights was absent here in the depths
of the country. In-deed, she could no longer see the
outlines of the moun-tains that rose to the north. Night
and fogwere settling over the landscape, the train was
nothing more than a departing rumble along the tracks, and
right now, changing her mind about this position of
caretaker to the marquess of Raeburn's elderly aunt seemed
wise.
But to whom could she announce her decision? The servant
she had assumed would meet her was nowhere to be seen along
the rural road that wound over the hill, past the platform
and out of sight.
And she had a mission herein. She had come here to fulfill
her heart's desire, and she wouldn't leave until she had
done so.
Although she knew it was impossible for her to have made a
mistake, she fumbled in her reticule and brought forth the
letter sent by the housekeeper who had hired her. Hannah
squinted through the rapidly fading light and read in Mrs.
Trenchard's beautiful penmanship: Take the train to Presham
Crossing, arriving there on March 5, 1843, and there depart
it.
Hannah knew the date to be March 5. She glanced up at the
sign erected above the newly constructed platform. Proudly
it proclaimedPresham Crossing.
I will send a coach to bring you to Raeburn Castle, where
the master most anxiously desires your arrival.
Hannah considered the narrow road again. No coach. No
servants. No anything. Tucking the letter back into her
reticule, she sighed and wondered why this evidence of
ineptitude surprised her. In her experience, efficiency was
a commodity she possessed which most others did not.
Indeed, it was her efficiency that had enabled her to run
the Distinguished Academy of Governesses alone these past
three years, and successfully enough that when she had gone
to Adorna, Lady Bucknell, and asked for help in selling it,
Adorna had bought it for herself. โI need something to
occupy my time since Wynter took over the family business,โ
she had said as she wrote out a check for a tidy sum.
Now, at the age of twenty-seven, Hannah found herself in
the enviable position of never needing to work again.
Although she would, of course. From the time she could
remember, she had always worked. Sewing, running errands,
helping out as a maid. Even when she'd studied at school,
she had labored to be the best ... then there had been that
brief, terrible, and wonderful time when she had not worked.
Pulling her cape closely against her neck, she looked again
at the road, but it remained obstinately empty and the
light was fading fast.
Lately she had all too often recalled those days when she
had been useless, unnecessary, a possession. Although the
clarity of her memories discomfited her, it failed to
surprise her. Every time she came to a crossroads in her
life, a time when everyday tasks failed to occupy each
second, her mind drifted back to the past, and she wondered
again. At moments such as these, standing alone while wisps
of fog became drifts and banks, blotting out the stars and
wrapping her in isolation, she pondered what would happen
if she returned to Liverpool, where the past awaited her.
Yet always she rejected the idea. In the end, she was too
much the coward to dare face the consequences of her
youthful misdeeds -- and too wise to brood about them now.
Tucking her chin into her wool muffler and her gloved hands
under her arms, she turned her thoughts along a more useful
path'what to do. The servant had failed her, the village
was nowhere in sight, and the night grew frigid. She would
certainly not give way to panic because she'd been
abandoned.
At least she knew she hadn't been followed from London. One
of the many reasons she'd taken this position was the
recent suspicion that she was being watched. Either that,
or one of the three very somber, identically clad gentlemen
whohad taken the house across the street visited the market
when she did, attended the theater when she did, and even
appeared in Surrey where she attended thebaptism of
Charlotte's second child and visited with Pamela.
And who cared enough about the humbly born owner of a
London business to find her and observe her every movement?
Only one man ... and in all fairness, how could he ever
forget her?
So when a job request came in for a companion for an
elderly lady in Lancashire, she had decreed it to be fate.
She sold her business and slipped away from London. The
ignorant might call this flight. She preferred to call it a
sabbatical.
She nodded firmly. Yes, a sabbatical to consider her
future. The future of Hannah Setterington. Still no coach.
No driver. She considered the ways she had taught student
governesses to deal with such dilemmas -- with good sense
and without rancor. If no one appeared within the hour, she
would step onto the road and start walking, and hope that
whichever direction she chose would be toward Presham
Crossing. From there she would hire someone to take her to
Rae-burn Castle. When she arrived, she would give Mrs.
Trenchard, the housekeeper, a firm but thorough up-
braiding. Gently bred women who took positions such as
governess and caretaker were frequently abused by the
servants below stairs. Hannah meant to start as she would
go on, and that included demanding respect. If that wasn't
possible, then she'd best know at once before she became
attached to the elderly aunt who, she'd been assured in the
exchange of letters, was a lovely lady, if occasionally a
little confused.
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