Forever Phoebe by Chalon Linton

Escape to Everly Manor: Chapter 1

England, 1813

Elizabeth Stafford would not quit. Her fortitude was vital if she had any hope of keeping her brother, Thomas, from being shipped off to Ipswich to join the crew of the merchant vessel the Vendetta. Lizzy had heard stories of the unjust beatings, the perilous jobs given to young boys, and the despicable conditions that existed on such a ship. Beyond that, Thomas would have difficulty surviving the demands associated with life at sea. He was, after all, but nine years old.

Thomas was Lizzy’s half-brother and junior by ten years. Her own mother had passed away when she was eight. Her father mourned for two years before Miss Esther Gale had captured his attention and they’d married. Lizzy’s stepmother had treated her kindly, and theirs had been a close-knit family. Memories of sleigh rides, laughter, and joy cycled through Lizzy’s mind. Those memories and Thomas were all she had now.

Lizzy wondered, for the hundredth time, why her father and stepmother had ventured from Town that fateful day four months ago. Why did they not let the storm pass and the roads clear before attempting to return home? Surely Thomas would have understood their delay of a day or two in celebrating his birthday. Any child would agree that having one’s parents arrive a day late was preferable to having them arrive in a coffin.

Lizzy decided to tell Thomas of his situation when she met him in the nursery for lessons. Rather than review Latin vocabulary, Lizzy suggested they go for a walk. After wandering through the herb garden, she led Thomas on the path to the orchard, far enough into the copse of trees to be hidden from the house. She knelt down and took Thomas’s hands in her own.

“I’ve something very important to tell you,” Lizzy said. Thomas scrunched his brow but remained quiet. “You know things have been different since Uncle Cline has arrived at Downey Place.”

“You mean it’s grown colder?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, it has.” Lizzy rubbed her hands up and down Thomas’s arms. “I’m afraid that’s not bound to change soon.” Thomas stood like a statue, waiting for his sister to say more. “Uncle has decided to send you away.” Thomas’s shoulders sagged. “Don’t worry. I have a plan,” Lizzy said.

“A plan?”

“Yes.” Lizzy hoped her smile conveyed more confidence than she felt.

“What is it?” Thomas asked.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not, Lizzy? That’s not fair.”

Lizzy squeezed Thomas’s hand in her own. “Listen to me, Thomas. Uncle is going to tell you all of the arrangements tonight. He wants you to work on a merchant ship and help the captain and the sailors.”

Thomas’s brow pinched together. “I don’t want to work on a ship.”

“I understand, but you must play along. You must make Uncle believe you are agreeable to the idea, and then you must trust me to take care of the rest.”

“How?”

“I’m still working out the details. Just know I plan to ride in the carriage with you to Ipswich, and I will not allow you to set foot on that ship.”

Thomas blinked and hung his head. “I don’t want to be a sailor.”

Lizzy placed her fingers under his chin and lifted his face to hers. “I know. But can you pretend for a few days? Imagine you are going to become a pirate, like we read about in your storybook. Can you do that?”

Thomas shrugged.

“Thomas.” Lizzy fixed him with a stern glare. “You must play along. I won’t let you board that ship, but I can’t do this alone. I need you to be brave.”

Thomas stared at his sister for a long moment. “I can do it, Lizzy. I’ll be brave.”

Lizzy realized Thomas had grown to look like a miniature version of their father. Thomas’s blue eyes matched his father’s and Uncle Cline’s and punctuated the soft lines of his face. His trusting countenance lacked the strength their father had possessed, but Lizzy loved his naivety. Her own eyes were almost golden, ringed in black and flecked with darker brown. She had inherited her eyes from her mother, and Lizzy considered them her best feature. Her light-brown hair matched Thomas’s, and she had a handful of freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose.

Lizzy pulled her brother into her arms, inhaling the sweaty warmth of Thomas’s hair. “There’s a good boy. Now, you must convince Uncle you are excited to go to sea.”

Thomas’s lips pulled sideways. “Like a pirate?”

“That’s right.” Lizzy reached over and mussed his hair. “Like a pirate.”

That night at dinner Lizzy retained her mask of compunction and granted her uncle ideal responses. She hoped to ask Uncle if she might escort Thomas to the docks at Ipswich. Thomas was to leave in two days’ time. Lizzy planned for her and Thomas to run away along the route. The more miles between Downey Place and their escape, the better.

Lizzy had witnessed Uncle’s temper. She would never forget the burning red fury in Uncle’s eyes when he had backhanded her. Mr. Palmer, her father’s longtime solicitor, had left shortly after Uncle’s arrival, and Uncle Cline had hired a new man of business, Mr. Monroe. The night Mr. Monroe read the will, Uncle had demanded Lizzy turn over her mother’s sapphires. She had refused to tell him where she’d hidden them—Father had promised the gemstones would one day belong to her. Aside from a handful of memories, they were the only connection Lizzy had to her birthmother—but the will stated otherwise. The document gave Uncle Cline everything: guardianship of herself and Thomas and ownership of the estate, including the sapphires.

When the new solicitor left, Uncle had demanded the jewels. Lizzy had protested, insisting there was some mistake—Father had promised—and then Uncle lost his temper. He’d grabbed Lizzy by the shoulders, shaking her fiercely as her teeth knocked together, before his hand connected with her cheek. Lizzy’s vision had turned from grey to black. Through the darkness she’d heard her butler, Mr. Clarke’s, voice. She did not remember his words—only that Uncle had tossed her onto the couch and stormed from the room. Lizzy had clamped her eyes closed, retreating to a dark corner of her consciousness until she could awaken from the awful dream.

Mr. Clarke had cleared his throat and laid a warm hand upon Lizzy’s back. Marlow, her maid, had then appeared, whispering soothing refrains, and with Mr. Clarke’s assistance, the two had carried Lizzy to her room and tucked her into bed. The next morning Lizzy had discovered the jewels were no longer in their hiding place beneath her wardrobe, and the events of that night were never discussed again.

Lizzy pushed the vile memory from her mind and forced a wide smile. She sat on the sofa in the drawing room and turned to Uncle Cline’s mistress. “Have you ever seen the sea, Miss Masterson?”

The redhead harrumphed. “Of course.”

“I’ve only been once, many years ago,” Lizzy said.

Miss Masterson looked at her askance and moved her eyes in the direction of the door. Lizzy knew her presence was not wanted; Marlow had related the rumors from the servants in regards to Miss Masterson and Uncle Cline. But tonight Lizzy was on a mission.

She sat straight-backed and clasped her hands in her lap. “Uncle? Would you consider allowing me to escort Thomas to his ship?”

Uncle lowered the paper he was reading. His eyes narrowed. “Why would you want to ride in a carriage for three days, just to turn around and come back home?”

“Well, it’s highly likely Thomas will fall in love with the ocean and never wish to return to Downey Place. Or I could very well be wed by the time Thomas completes his service, and circumstances may not allow me to travel to see him.” Lizzy clasped her hands against her chest. “I had hoped to spend just a little more time with him.”

Miss Masterson snickered. “Wed? You?”

Instead of the glare Lizzy wanted to give, she fluttered her eyelashes and offered a dreamy sigh. “I won’t be out of mourning until my twentieth birthday. Would it be conceivable to have a Season at that time?” Lizzy turned to Miss Masterson. “You’ve experienced a Season, Miss Masterson. What is your opinion?”

Miss Masterson looked over Lizzy’s personage. “You might be able to snag a fortune hunter or an old bachelor seeking an heir.” Miss Masterson’s lips twisted in amusement.

“Well . . . that is something, I suppose.” Lizzy’s hands fell to her lap.

Uncle folded his paper in half and set it aside. “Not to worry, niece. I have a solution.” Miss Masterson adjusted her posture like a cat poised to pounce on its prey, and Uncle Cline continued. “I’ve recently met with Mr. Simpkin, and he has agreed to accept your hand.”

Lizzy’s blood turned to ice. Mr. Rudyard Simpkin was the last person on earth she could ever marry. He was boorish, demanding, full of his own self-importance, and Lizzy’s senior by at least twenty-five years. She would rather become a cabin boy herself than become affianced to such a man. But, first and foremost, Lizzy needed to take care of Thomas.

Lizzy’s lungs seared in pain as she swallowed past the bile in her throat and struggled to maintain her smile. “Are you certain he will have me?”

“Quite.” A feral grimace smeared Uncle’s otherwise handsome features. “As executor of your dowry and the one who must consent to your marriage, I’ve met with Simpkin and he is agreeable to my terms.”

“It does sound like an ideal arrangement.” Lizzy’s stomach hurt.

“Indeed.” Uncle Cline smirked.

Lizzy mustered every theatrical talent within her. She had to convince her uncle to send her to Ipswich. She clapped her hands. “It’s Providence! I can escort Thomas to sea and get a glimpse of the Vendetta. And when”—she held up a single finger—“or if, he returns, I will be a married woman, mistress of my own household.” She tipped her head sideways and fluttered her eyelashes some more. “May I please go to Ipswich, Uncle Cline?”

With a grunt Uncle answered, “There’s no harm in it, I suppose. I’ll talk to Simpkin and arrange for you to be wed upon your return.”

“Splendid.” Lizzy clasped her hands together tightly. “It’s so many changes. I can hardly wait.”