Black Lace and Betrayal Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Black Lace and Betrayal

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  The chairman of the jury awaited

  the judge’s nod to proceed and then cleared his throat.

  “Judge Watson, we find the defendant guilty of the crime.”

  Aaron cried out, his pain more than he could bear. He attempted to rise but was held firmly by the Carnes. The judge banged his gavel and demanded silence. In the dock, Hannah laid her head gently on her arms. Her slender back shook with muffled coughs.

  Judge Watson glared at Aaron. “Interruptions to this proceeding will not be tolerated.” He turned his attention to Mr. Brockton. “Sir, your client will rise to receive her sentence.”

  Brockton tried to get Hannah to her feet, but she fell forward and would have dropped to the floor if he hadn’t caught her. The clerk assisted, and between them they held her upright facing the judge.

  “Hannah Winstead, a jury of your peers has found you guilty of murder. What say you before I pass sentence upon you?”

  Hannah said nothing. Her head drooped forward, and coughs racked her emaciated body.

  The judge paused, regarding her, but then seemed to resign himself to his duty and continued. “For the crime of murder, I sentence you to death by hanging.”

  Black Lace

  and Betrayal

  by

  Jocelyn Kirk

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Black Lace and Betrayal

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Joyce E. Back

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First American Rose Edition, 2018

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1923-0

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1924-7

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Heather,

  the best daughter,

  the best friend.

  Chapter One

  Richmond, England, October 1838

  Hannah felt a slight tremor as she entered the parlor and observed the expression on the face of her guardian. Mr. Hargrove Godder was not usually warm or loquacious, but on this occasion, his air of gravity informed her something serious was afoot.

  “You wished to speak with me, sir?”

  “Yes. You may have surmised the purpose,” he replied, looking closely into her face. “You are seventeen years old now, and so it might be natural for you to expect the sort of conversation which will now take place.”

  “Indeed, sir, I have no idea of your purpose.” As she spoke, she attempted to conceal any hint of anxiety in her eyes. Mr. Godder often used fear as a useful ally.

  “Very well. I have summoned you, Hannah, on a matter of great importance. If your attitude toward this…event…is the correct one, it will be a happy occasion for you. But you are a girl who is not always compliant with the wishes of her elders. However, let us not assume trouble before it occurs. Seat yourself, and pray hold your tongue until I am finished speaking.”

  Hannah sat in a brown brocade wing chair, close to the hearth and at the greatest possible distance from Mr. Godder’s stance at the open door. As he closed the door and faced her, she clasped her hands in her lap to quell their tremor and attempted to convince herself, as she did often, that she had nothing to fear from the man. After all, he and his wife had been her guardians since she was three years old. Why, then, did she tremble in his presence? She inwardly scolded herself and endeavored to give him her whole attention.

  Mr. Godder was lighting his pipe, and Hannah’s intractable thoughts wandered again to Mrs. Godder, who saw to her needs and was somewhat kind to her. But even Mrs. Godder did not allow her a great deal of personal freedom. She was not suffered to go out for social engagements unless one of them accompanied her. The solitude of her life in Pinley House had led her to take refuge in books, and within the covers of the various volumes she had covertly carried to her chamber from the library, she learned as much as possible of the world around her. Even there she was sometimes thwarted, for if Mr. Godder caught her with books he considered unsuitable, she would be subjected to the humiliation of listening to an angry tirade about obedience. This circumstance, to her dismay, had turned her into a sneak. After dark when the servants had withdrawn and the Godders had retired for the night, she would gather a few books and read them in her chamber by candlelight, returning them to the library before anyone knew they were missing.

  She was pulled from her ruminations by Mr. Godder’s voice. “Hannah,” he began, sucking on his smoldering pipe, “I will not trifle with your curiosity. The matter is, a gentleman has made an offer for your hand, and I have accepted.”

  Hannah stared at him, unable to comprehend his meaning. An offer for her hand—marriage? No, it could not be! She had had no suitors. No young men had been to call at Pinley House, and she had attended very few balls and soirees. Who could possibly have noticed and sought her?

  “I-I do not understand, sir.”

  “You might well be shocked, as young as you are and not a beauty, I might add. But you have caught the fancy of one of the most illustrious men in England. He called last night to press his suit with me. I felt sure you would have the sense to realize how fortunate you are, so I made no scruple to close with him.”

  Hannah could feel her face growing hot as she stared at her guardian. A visitor last night—Lord Earling had been the only visitor. Surely not he!

  “Sir, with all due respect, I am having a great deal of difficulty in understanding this matter. Are you telling me someone asked you if he might marry me, and you replied yes?”

  “Indeed, that is exactly the case.” Mr. Godder leaned back in his chair, stroked his beard, and regarded her carefully. “I truly hope that you are not going to show an unbecom
ing streak of independence. You have been raised to know your duty, and I trust you do know it.”

  “But, Mr. Godder, I do not even know the name of this gentleman who has so unaccountably sought my hand! You say he visited last night—there was no one here but Lord Earling!”

  “And Lord Earling is the man. He gave me a full accounting of his wealth and property, and I was satisfied you will live a life of prosperity and ease. I will have no fears in turning you over to him.”

  “In turning me over to him! Mr. Godder, forgive me, but I am not a heifer to be sold to any gentleman offering a fat check! I have no intention of marrying Lord Earling! It is quite out of the question!”

  Hannah rose and in her anger and distress moved toward the fire. Her back was turned to Mr. Godder, so she did not know he had moved from his leather chaise until he seized her arm.

  “That is exactly the type of nonsense I feared!” he declared angrily. “But let me tell you something, Hannah! You are my ward, and I have every legal and moral right to dispose of you in marriage. You will marry Lord Earling! Financial arrangements have already been made, and I have given my word as a gentleman!”

  Hannah jerked her arm away. “You gave your word! Without consulting me or my feelings! I despise Lord Earling, and I will never—”

  The door to the study opened, and Mrs. Godder entered. She was wearing a violet silk tea dress for she was on her way out to the carriage for a round of early afternoon calls. A dainty lace shawl fell gracefully from her shoulders, and pearl earrings glowed softly amid the golden curls that played about her face. She appeared, as always, completely soft and feminine.

  “What on earth is this to-do?” she asked, looking from one angry face to the other. “My dear”—to Hannah—“I am afraid Mr. Godder has frightened you with his abrupt manner. Come, let us go into my parlor.”

  She led Hannah gently across the highly polished oak floor of the main hallway and then preceded her into a charming, feminine room. The drapes were pale pink watered silk, and the furnishings were covered with delicately printed fabrics that echoed the soft tone of the drapery. Hannah did not feel any more comfortable in this room than she did in Mr. Godder’s study. His room exuded all masculine strength and power, while Mrs. Godder’s room was so soft and feminine that it seemed to Hannah to lack something—character perhaps—or strength and courage. Mrs. Godder was harsh to the servants, and yet she feared her husband. She attempted to hide the fear, but Hannah was well aware it was present.

  The parlor affected Hannah as the study could never have. It made her cry. While the study made her angry, the parlor made her feel ungrateful and mean. It was so now as Mrs. Godder settled her on a flowery settee.

  Mrs. Godder smiled. “My dear Hannah, despite how frightened you are feeling at the moment, you must admit, you have made a great conquest. Lord Earling is one of the most powerful men in England.” She hesitated as Hannah dropped her eyes and fumbled for a handkerchief. “You may not be aware, my love, but you have become very, very attractive in an interesting, different sort of way. You are not a classic beauty for your face is too thin and your eyes seem to overwhelm your other features. But your hair is lovely with its scarlet sheen, your figure is slim but elegant, and on the whole, your looks are very pleasing. These attributes, combined with that air you have of innocence and serenity, have completely captivated poor Earling. He came to Mr. Godder quite in distress last night, saying he fell in love with you last spring at the Ramseys’ ball and could not get you out of his head. Charming, is it not?”

  Hannah dabbed at her face and did not answer. There was a sinking feeling inside her, a feeling that Mrs. Godder would have her way no matter how she, Hannah, felt about the matter. There was no escape for her.

  Mrs. Godder spoke even more softly. “My love, you are very young and know little of the world. When a man such as Earling proposes to a woman, she does not refuse him. To do so would be madness. He will make you into a wealthy, titled woman. You will be Lady Earling, and your sons and daughters will be born into nobility.”

  Hannah lifted her face and gazed in distress at her guardian. “But, madam, I do not care for him. How can I be his wife? You speak of my children, but to have children with such a man! The thought repels me!”

  Mrs. Godder laughed gently. “Oh, Hannah, that is nothing to be concerned about. Every woman, when she weds, learns to do her duty in the matter of bearing children.” She leaned gracefully forward and seized Hannah’s hand in her slender manicured fingers. “Think of your life, my dear! Although you were well born, you are now a penniless orphan. There are very few men of good birth who could afford to marry you. This is an opportunity for you, and—I must be frank, my love—it may very well be your only opportunity. Would you prefer to grow old here, never having a home of your own and living always on the charity of Mr. Godder and myself? No! It is not what your dear mother and father would have wished!”

  Hannah’s tears began again. Her mother and father! She did not have so much as a memory of them. They had died when she was three years old, victims of cholera in India. Without the Godders, what would have become of her? She was ungrateful and mean to give such trouble. She was only seventeen, so surely Mrs. Godder knew what was right for her better than she knew herself.

  A great weariness suddenly came over her, as if she could see her entire dreary future spread before her. There would be a wedding, a honeymoon voyage to France or Spain, and then a settling in to married life. She would host charity balls, make tea visits, and enter innumerable drawing rooms on the arm of her husband—a man she did not like.

  But the alternative—a life here at Pinley House, more resented every year by Mr. Godder for the cost of her upkeep. Reading alone on rainy afternoons, cutting flowers with Mrs. Godder in the garden, watching herself turn slowly into a bitter old maid.

  “Very well,” she whispered, so softly that Mrs. Godder leaned closer to be sure she heard. “Very well, I will marry him.”

  Mrs. Godder took her by the shoulders and raised her up. “Let me embrace you, my love. You are doing what is right, and your reward will be your own happiness!”

  She kissed Hannah on the cheek, then glanced at her gold filigree watch and took her leave. Hannah stood at the window in the hall and watched her guardian’s elegant figure step into the carriage. Then, overcome with sadness, she plodded wearily to her own chamber.

  The next morning Hannah found to her dismay that Lord Earling was expected to dinner and he had been given permission to begin the courtship of his future bride. Hannah knew this meant she must spend some time alone with him. After dinner, she would be encouraged to stroll in the garden with him, and she would need to pretend to be interested in his conversation. Lord Earling talked of only two subjects: fox hunting and the wealth being generated by his properties in Jamaica and America. Hannah did not like fox hunting and knew nothing of business. She sighed to herself as she brushed her hair and gazed into her mirror. Why had he chosen her? What sort of madness had made him think of her as a wife? She slowly set down her brush and stared into the mirror at her figure in its white muslin camisole. She saw a thin, small-busted, angular body, large, expressive hazel eyes, pale skin, and a tangled mass of reddish hair. What was there in that picture to attract a man like Lord Earling?

  Hannah turned away and began dressing. She would take a walk. Although it was October, the weather was warm and dry. A walk would clear her mind and give her energy to meet her new duties. Resolutely, she took her shawl and set off, informing Mrs. Godder’s maid of her intention as she slipped out the kitchen door.

  Hannah’s walk usually took her across a meadow to a shimmering pond in a small grove about a mile from Pinley House. But this morning she set off down the London road. The city lay seven miles in the distance, too far for a stroll, but Hannah thought it might be amusing to walk as far as the crossroad, where the road to London intersected with that to the village of Richmond. There, one could sit on a fine old log at the sid
e of the road and observe the coaches and carriages that occasionally passed by.

  She reached the crossroad in half an hour and settled herself upon the log to rest and look about. It was a lovely fall day, with scarlet and golden leaves drifting on the breeze like fairy dancers. She breathed in the sweet, fresh air of the country and gazed at the fields, still green in the autumn sun and edged by forestland as colorful as a Gypsy’s gown.

  Having not slept well the previous night, Hannah began to doze in the warmth of the sun. She was sitting comfortably on the log with her back against a wide branch, hearing nothing but cicadas and the songs of birds. The monotonous singsong, combined with the hazy heat of the day, drew her gently into a dream.

  Suddenly, a loud voice calling, “Hallo,” startled her. Her eyes flew open, and she beheld a man looking at her intently, his head at an angle as he attempted to see through the tangle of leaves and brush. He stood in the road at the head of a gray horse, which was harnessed to a two-wheeled chaise.

  “Oh!” Hannah cried, sitting up. “I did not hear your carriage!”

  “Are you quite all right?” he called.

  “Yes,” she replied, climbing as discreetly as possible from the log. “I’m ashamed to admit I fell asleep.”

  Hannah wrapped her gown closely about herself to prevent snags and made her way through the tangle of trees and brush to the roadside. The gentleman bowed.

  “Pray forgive my waking you. I stopped to check my horse because he seems to have developed a limp. I was quite surprised to see you there and did not know if you were asleep or injured. I thought you might be in need of assistance.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “You’re very kind. I need no assistance, but perhaps I can assist you. Shall I hold the horse while you check his hooves?”

  Hannah felt no fear of the young man before her, for he was of good appearance, with a tall, straight figure, light brown hair, and an open expression. He spoke well and his handsome mouth looked as if it smiled and laughed often. His blue eyes twinkled as he assessed her in return.

  “I would appreciate your help very much. May I introduce myself? I am Aaron Clarke.”