Abby Grahame - Wentworth Hall

Lila knew she’d find her father in his study on the fifth floor of the west wing at this time of day and headed straight to it. Rapping on his door, she didn’t wait to be admitted but walked right in. “Father, is it true that you’re selling off pieces of the estate?”

“Where did you hear such a thing?” Lord Darlington asked, looking up from the financial ledger book he’d been poring over.

Lila hesitated, not prepared with an answer. “I can’t say. But I heard it.”

Her father caught her in a concerned stare. Neither of them spoke. Lila was at a loss for what to say next and guessed that her father was also considering what to say before saying it.

“It’s not true,” Lord Darlington said at last.

She showed him the letter Nora had given her. “I found this,” she fibbed. “If it isn’t so, what does this mean?”

Lord Darlington glanced at the letter. “I can’t imagine you found that letter lying about the house. We will have to have a talk about you being too old to be snooping around my study playing whatever silly game girls your age play. In the meantime, let me put your fears to rest. I wanted our solicitor to handle an insurance reevaluation for me. I requested that he get some up-to-date prices on our art and parts of our property so that our insurance would reflect the current replacement value.”

Lila’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I knew it couldn’t be,” she gushed. “I just had to hear it from you.”

“You needn’t worry, Lila. The Darlingtons may not enjoy the wealth of yesterday, but we are far from destitute.”

Fighting the impulse to throw her arms around her father, a familiarity that always made him uneasy, Lila smiled at Lord Darlington. “Thank you for being frank with me, Father,” she said. “I was so concerned.”

“Don’t think about it for another moment,” Lord Darlington said. “Now, if you will leave me to double-check these estate expenditures.”

“Of course.”

Lila hurried back to her bedroom to give Nora the good news. “It’s all fine. It’s all something or other about having proper insurance. There’s no cause to worry.”

“That’s wonderful,” Nora said happily. “Thank you for finding out, Miss Lila.” As Nora crossed to the desk near the window to pick up the soiled laundry, she looked out. “Did you know your brother was coming home?”

Lila ran to the window to see for herself. A slim, handsome young man with blond hair so like the pale shade of their mother’s had emerged from the passenger side of a shiny motorcar with large, narrow white tires and no roof. The driver was a young man of the same age, a little shorter than Teddy but still quite tall. His honey-blond hair caught the sunlight and made him look quite dashing. She wouldn’t call him handsome, exactly. He wasn’t polished like Teddy or even Wes. But what was really remarkable was his laugh. She could hear it even from here! Lila liked this fellow instantly.

Wesley had spent the early part of the summer in the United States with his American friend Ian who was also studying in Oxford. The driver must be Ian. She’d assumed Wesley was going directly back to school from America but was delighted that he hadn’t.

Not wasting another moment by the window, Lila bounded out of the room and ran all the way down to the first floor. She encountered Wesley and his friend as they were coming in the front door, suitcases in hand.

“Wes!” she greeted him with a happy shout. “Do Father and Mother expect you? They didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Wesley set his suitcase down and hugged her warmly. “Look at you!” he cried, taking her by the shoulders and studying her. “All grown up since I last saw you. You look smashing, Lila!”

Lila felt herself blush as she basked in the warmth of his praise. Wesley turned to his friend. “Ian, this is my little sis I’ve been telling you about, only she’s looking a lot older than the last time she and I were together.”

Ian stepped forward and extended his hand. Somehow Lila knew he meant to shake rather than kiss her hand and she pumped it enthusiastically. “Ian Martin,” he introduced himself. “Glad to meet you, Lila.”

“Glad to meet you,” Lila echoed, grinning. His hand was warm and strong and he had a pleasant, open face.

“Is Maggie around?”

“I think she went out for a walk.”

“Where are Mother and Father?” Wesley asked.

“Father’s in his study and Mother is in the parlor with our houseguests, the Fitzhughs.”

“Set your suitcase down, Ian. The butler will get it,” Wesley said.

Ian gazed around the foyer, clearly awed by it. “Better stick close to me, you two. I could get lost in a place this gigantic.”

“Your place in Newport was this big,” Wesley said.

“Not by half,” Ian disagreed. “This is a palace.”

Percival the head butler greeted them and Wesley requested that the rest of Ian’s and his luggage be brought in. “You can put Mr. Martin’s things in the guest bedroom next to mine,” he instructed.

“Very good, sir.” In minutes Percival enlisted two butlers to bring in the rest of the bags. Percival himself carried several issues of a newspaper. “These were on the floor of the car, sir. What would you like me to do with them?”

“Thanks, Percival,” Wesley said. “I’ll take those.”

“Why are you keeping those old papers?” Lila asked.

“They’re part of the reason I came home. I want to talk to Father about them. See for yourself.” Wesley took the top paper and set the rest of them at his feet. Quickly flipping through it, he soon found what he’d been searching for and handed the open paper to Lila.

Not sure what she was looking at, Lila began to read aloud. “The Worthless Saga,” she said. “This sounds funny.” But as she scanned the article, her eyes widened with horror. “Wes, this is about us!”

“I think that’s a pretty safe guess,” Wesley agreed.

Lila’s head was reeling with disbelief. Was she the character they called Doodles? She had to be! Constantly overlooked, forgotten about! How completely humiliating! How mortifying! This was horrible!

“Who could have written this?” Lila asked.

“I have no idea,” Wesley replied. “But one thing is clear enough: The author of this is someone living here at Wentworth Hall.”

Therese stood by the kitchen window watching Michael and Maggie talking out on the path. Was Maggie crying? From this distance it was hard to tell. Therese was the one who should be crying after the way Maggie had spoken to her that morning. She didn’t feel like crying though. Instead, she was more curious to see what was going on outside.

Today’s walk had confirmed the suspicions that had been forming in her mind from the first moment she laid eyes on Michael. Seeing him up close and then experiencing Maggie’s rage at the sight of him with the baby and Therese had cast away all doubts. What she suspected was true. It seemed every generation of Darlington had secrets to answer for.

Couldn’t Michael see it? Was it her duty as his friend to point it out? It didn’t seem fair that the upper classes could keep secrets to protect themselves, regardless of how it hurt other people. She knew all too well the pain of that.

“Therese,” Mrs. Howard’s voice cut through her reverie. “Where is James?”

“He is in his crib, Madame,” Therese answered. “He naps at this hour. I thought to slip away for a moment or two.”

“Good, then join us upstairs in the dining room,” Mrs. Howard commanded. “I need to address the entire staff.”

“Oui, Madame.” Therese reluctantly left the window and followed the head housekeeper up the servants’ staircase to the dining room where the rest of the servants were already assembled.

Therese stood alongside Nora. Scanning the anxious faces around her, Therese wondered if some of them were about to be fired. It could be a hundred other things, of course, but that was what was on each of their minds. She could see it in the darting eyes and bitten lips of her coworkers.

Mrs. Howard held a newspaper over her head. It was the Sussex Courier. “As some of you may already know,” she began, “Master Wesley has just returned home. On his journey back to Sussex, he came across a newspaper publishing thinly disguised satires about the Darlington Family.”

Mrs. Howard put down the paper and waited until the buzz of shocked murmurs had subsided. “Master Wesley believes that this embarrassment to the Darlingtons contains information that could only be gleaned by someone living at Wentworth Hall. And since it targets the family, it is most probably a member of the serving staff.”