How to Heal the Marquess by Sally Forbes
Prologue
“Alice,” came a whispered voice from the open door of the drawing-room of Kitteridge Manor.
Alice Kitteridge looked up from the book she had been reading to see the sparkling, dark brown eyes of Betty Riley, Alice’s lady’s maid, staring at her meaningfully.
Alice motioned her inside; her eyebrow raised, curious as to her maid’s strange behavior. Then, she saw that Betty was holding an envelope tightly and well concealed in her hand. Carefully, she closed the door as she entered the room. She glanced around the room as if to ensure that the two women were alone. Then, she rushed over to Alice, and the envelope extended toward her mistress.
“The butler gave me this earlier this morning,” she said, whispering, even though she knew now that there was no one else in there with them. “But your mother and father have been difficult to evade until just moments ago. I brought it as soon as I deemed it safe to do so.”
Alice took the letter, hugging her maid tightly. She nodded, understanding well the need for all the secrecy. She had not yet glanced at the envelope, but she was well aware of what it contained.
Her parents would hardly have approved, and at best, would have had the letter tossed out with the rubbish instead of ever letting it pass into her hands. They disapproved of her secret hobby, which was why Betty, aided by the butler, helped deliver certain letters to their young mistress undetected. And they would make sure the replies were posted in secret too. It was one of these mysterious letters which Alice now held eagerly in her hand.
“Thank you, Betty,” Alice said. “You did very well. I hate to think how Mother and Father would treat you, should they catch you helping me in this way.”
The maid shrugged, giving her mistress a warm, confident grin.
“It would not be nearly as bad as the knowledge that I had failed you,” she said. “Especially with something as important as your rapidly thriving career.”
Alicia bit back her joy. Betty was exaggerating, of course, as Alice humbly knew. However, she hoped the letter in her hand might contain some proof that Betty’s confidence in her was not altogether misplaced. With great excitement, she took her maid’s hand and led her over to the long bench beneath the large windows in the drawing-room, retrieving the letter opener from the escritoire as she passed. The two women sat, and Alice carefully tore open the envelope, reading it as she did so:
Mr. Tristram Tattersall (Care of The Post Office, Kitteridge, Hertfordshire)
From Mr. J.J. Dickins, Printer and Book Distributor
The Strand, London
Dated 28th February 1820
With trembling hands, Alice opened the letter. She bit her lip, giggling as she read Mr. Tattersall’s name at the top of the envelope. Mr., indeed, she thought, laughing again. It was hard to believe the publisher truly thought a person with such a ridiculous name could exist, but she was grateful that he had been taken in. She imagined the surprise on the publisher’s face if he ever discovered that Mr. was actually a lady, and she had to stifle another giggle.
With a deep breath to calm herself, Alice began to read the letter:
