Never and Always (Emerson Book 6) Read online

  Just as he began packing the trunk which had also been tossed out, Percy came to the door, surrounded by half a dozen boys. Wes took some satisfaction in noting there was still dried blood on Percy’s nose. “You’ve really done it this time, Addington, and there’s no coming back from it, either. You just made yourself a ferocious enemy. And I intend to revenge myself.”

  “I believe the word you seek is ‘avenge,’ and I am just as happy to be leaving.”

  “But where will you go?” sneered Percy. “No one else will take you in, not unless they want to earn a place on my enemies’ list. I know! Mayhap you can go room with your new friend the gimp or bunk with the charity case. I hear their rooms have rats and all sort of horrors. It will serve you right, you know. Because that’s exactly what you are, a rat fleeing a sinking ship.”

  “So you are the sinking ship?”

  Once again, Percy had not thought through his analogy. He narrowed his eyes. “Go on, get out of here. No one will have you. And I will always be watching.”

  Wes packed his trunk under the watchful eyes of Percy’s mates, who took turns calling him all the curse words they knew. Then he dragged his heavy trunk down the hall before sinking down on the steps in despair. Percy was right. No one would invite him to bunk with them for fear of the other boy’s wrath. While he could not be denied a bed since he was enrolled at the school, he also did not wish to go where he was not wanted. And he wouldn’t be wanted by anyone.

  Except by possibly one boy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Robert straightened the cot by the window one more time before sitting at his desk and pretending not to be waiting for a visit from either Mark or Wes. He knew he should not get his hopes up. If there was one thing he had learned it was that optimism often led to disappointment. Yet as hard as he tried, he could not shake himself of the habit.

  He should be thinking about the consequences of angering Percy. The boy was evil. He was a bully and a dullard who would go far in life because he had been born into a powerful family, but a bully and a dullard just the same. Percy and his gang could do anything to Robert in this isolated portion of the school and there was little to be done about it. But that wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. No, the worst was the thought of having asked – almost begged – for the friendship of two boys who would probably reject him.

  He hated that it mattered so much to him. But his one hope in coming to Eton had been to find kindness and friendship when he’d had little of either at home.

  He heard a noise, which sounded like a large thump somewhere down the dark hallway. He hoped it was Mark or Wes, and not Percy. But there was nothing to it but to find out. “Who’s there?” he asked.

  “You certainly live at the end of the earth, Lorton,” said a tired Lord Wesley.

  Robert couldn’t help the grin which lit his face.

  * * *

  Wes hadn’t realized just how long of a walk it would be to Lorton’s rooms until he was dragging his trunk up the stairs. The top floor was almost deserted, except for a light at the far end of the hall. He dragged his trunk down the hall, then looked up to see Lorton standing there.

  “I take it things did not go well with Reynolds?” asked Lorton.

  “He kicked me out of the suite, but not before he and the other boys soiled my things.”

  “Yes, I can smell it from here. Where do you plan to go?”

  Wes had rather been hoping for an immediate invitation, though he had not really earned one. “If anyone takes me in, Percy will make his life a living hell.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. Asking to move into someone’s room was just a bit too humiliating, and Lorton already had enough to worry about.

  Lorton nodded. “Since he has already vowed to do that to me, you might as well move in here. There is plenty of room.” He walked into his room and motioned for Wes to follow.

  It was a large room, with four cots, bureaus and desks. Lorton’s things were neatly arranged in the far corner, but the rest of the room was unused.

  “Why is no one else here?” asked Wes.

  “Because even a school which believes it is perfectly humane to paddle a boy’s bare bottom thinks this room is too inhospitable. It is up all those stairs and frightfully cold at night. No one had used this suite for years until I came to school. My father remembered it from when he was here and insisted it be issued to me. To stop me from being weak.”

  “You are not weak. I could barely make it up here. If I had to do it a few times a day, with your….” Wes wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.

  “My deformity. It is all right to say it.”

  “With your…condition. If I had to do it with your condition, I think I would quit school. Your father sounds like an arse, if you do not mind me saying.”

  “I do not mind at all,” said Lorton with a grin. “Move your things in here, though I will be just as happy when we get them laundered. Then we should go down to dinner. It takes me a while and you know how they hate it when we’re late.”

  Wes had not realized until that moment that he had not just been in need of a place to sleep. This boy was brave, kind and clever, three traits which had been sorely lacking in his former mates. Wes realized he would like to be friends with Lorton. “What about that chap, Jones? Percy said the rooms where the charity students live have rats.”

  “This room has the occasional mouse, so I can only imagine what their quarters are like.”

  “Well, I know I haven’t even moved in yet, but mayhap Jones could stay here, too, if you wouldn’t object.”

  “I would like that,” said Lorton. “I’ve been alone for much too long,” he added quietly, as they began their slow descent down the stairs.

  “I think all three of us have,” said Wes. “By the by, I was impressed with the facer you planted on Percy.”

  That brought a smile to Lorton’s face, despite the strain of the stairs. “But I am not the one who knocked him out, am I?”

  “I had better traction is all. Did your father teach you to fight?”

  Unfortunately, that made Lorton’s smile disappear. “If I learned anything about fighting from my father it was from being on the receiving end of his beatings. But once I learned I’d be going to school, I read up on the subject. It never hurts to be prepared. What about you?”

  “I have two elder brothers who tormented me, though not nearly as bad as Percy and that lot.”

  “How did you come to join up with them?”

  Wes shrugged. “Not certain, really. Percy asked and I joined. Now that I’ve said it, it sounds pathetic enough. I reckon the larger question was why did I stay?”

  “I can answer that. Because it feels good to belong to something, to be part of a group. At least I figure it would. You may have noticed I don’t really have any friends here, but I assume it would make this place better to not have to suffer alone.”

  Wes wasn’t certain what to say to such honesty. He didn’t have much experience with conversations such as this. In Percy’s group, they spent most of their time thinking of new curse words and trying to smuggle in ale and French postcards. If he had started a conversation about the true meaning of friendship, he likely would have been thrashed and had his manhood called into question. “Do you want to be mates?” he asked Lorton before he could think more about it. It simply seemed like a good idea.

  Lorton was startled, then got a suspicious look on his face. “This is awfully sudden.”

  “How long does it usually take to become friends?”

  “I cannot say since I don’t have any. Excuse my reticence, but up until an hour ago you were friends with one of the meanest boys at school. How do I know this isn’t some sort of trick?”

  It was a good question since it was exactly something Percy would do. “All I can do is give you my word. My offer is good, even if you do not accept.”

  Lorton seemed to think it over. “How long will you extend it?”

  “As long as it takes,” said W
es with a grin. “Now let’s get to dinner.”

  In the dining hall they found two seats together at a table with boys who had routinely been mocked by Percy and other boys of his ilk. But if Wes had thought he might find kindred spirits in them, he was mistaken. As soon as Lorton and Wes sat down, the other boys left the table.

  “Do not mind them,” said Lorton. “They are just trying to protect themselves from Percy’s wrath. Do you see Jones anywhere?”

  Wes looked around the hall, suddenly aware that they were the subject of stares from the other boys. But while it was initially disconcerting, he realized he did not mind the scrutiny. There was something freeing about being away from a gang and with an actual friend. “I don’t see Jones.”

  “He must be in the kitchens,” said Lorton. “We’ll find him when the meal is finished.”

  They were unable to find Jones after dinner and Wes figured the other boy must have thought better of associating with them. But they had only just returned to Addison’s suite when Jones appeared. They wasted no time in trying to convince him to move in.

  “For all I know Addington might snore,” said Lorton. “You may need to throw a boot at him from time to time. My aim is rubbish.”

  That made Jones snort. “I already hit two toffs today. I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to stay if I throw a boot at a third.”

  “I’ll say I did it,” said Lorton. “What do you say? Will you join us?”

  Jones nodded and that was how three strangers became best friends.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lynwood Manor, Hertfordshire, Christmas 1828

  Twelve-year-old Violet Kellington loved Christmas. There was always a large reunion at her Uncle Liam’s estate, which meant she not only got to see her aunts and uncles, but her many cousins as well. She loved the cozy estate in Marston Vale where she lived with her parents, Edward and Jane, and her siblings Daniel and Alice. But it was magical to be with everyone at Christmas.

  As the Duke and Duchess of Lynwood, Liam and Rosalind Kellington were often in London, where Liam was a leader in progressive matters in the House of Lords. And Aunt Rosalind was certainly busy enough taking care of their three children, Michael, Charles, and Anne.

  Violet’s Uncle Arthur and Aunt Vanessa also spent much of their time in London working for the Home Office, where Vanessa had once been an operative. Even with three children keeping them busy, they worked to keep England safe.

  Uncle Hal and Aunt Melanie had built a house near Lynwood Manor in the country where their three daughters loved to roam free. They were often in London to oversee efforts to help young women find alternatives to a life of prostitution. Of course, the men of the family thought Violet was too young to even know about such things, but Aunt Melanie and Violet’s mother, Jane, had allowed her to work with them from time to time, in order to give her a better understanding of the conditions of women not fortunate enough to have been born into the privileged world of the ton.

  They had been lessons Violet would never forget.

  Her Aunt Elizabeth was also a crusader for the less fortunate and a proponent of the scandalous idea of women’s suffrage. Her views were so progressive, she might have been shunned in Society, were it not for her brother the duke and her husband the Marquess of Riverton. They had named their eldest daughter Prudence after Elizabeth’s beloved aunt, who was quite delighted to be the girl’s namesake.

  Violet had no shortage of ladies she looked up to, though she admired her mother the most. Jane had worked as a nurse in Belgium during the Battle of Waterloo, which is where she had met Violet’s father, Edward Kellington. It had been awkwardly explained to Violet that events had transpired during the meeting which had resulted in her birth some nine months later. All that mattered to Violet was that she loved her parents very much.

  She had inherited her father’s distinct green eyes and her mother’s fair hair. She loved helping her mother tend to the villagers as Marston Vale’s de facto surgeon and had even begun helping with the births.

  She had two very close friends with whom she corresponded once a week. Ever since she had met Letty and Anna Emerson some five years earlier, the three girls had recorded everything of importance and shared those details with each other via the post. In the summer, the Emersons and Kellingtons gathered at one of the estates and Violet looked forward to the other times during the year when she could see her friends in London.

  Violet had just returned to the Manor after gathering boughs with the children, when her Aunt Rosalind found her. “The Emerson’s Christmas letter has arrived,” she said. “And, of course, there is an envelope for you.”

  Violet took the letter along with two fresh biscuits from the kitchen and ran to her bedchamber to read. There was the usual news about the sometimes frustrating antics of much-loved younger siblings, as well as opinions on the latest fashions. There was also an invitation to visit Ridgeway Manor in the spring.

  Violet set off to find her parents, eventually locating them in the deserted ballroom, where they were kissing under the mistletoe. She often found them that way, even without the presence of seasonal greenery. She cleared her voice, which made her parents look up. They made no effort to move out of their embrace but simply motioned for her to join them.

  “I have wonderful news from Letty and Anna,” she said. “They have invited us to visit them in the spring. May we go?”

  “Of course,” said her father.

  Violet could not have had a better Christmas present than knowing she would soon be reunited with her two best friends.

  * * *

  Mayhew Abbey

  Wes was home for Christmas and everything was as it always had been. The servants had decorated the house with greenery from the woods surrounding the estate. His two older brothers had left behind the excitement of London to return reluctantly to the estate. Wilton, the heir, was six and twenty and spent as much time as possible avoiding their mother who felt the need to lecture him about the necessity of finding a wife. Francis, at four and twenty, was not under quite as much pressure to marry, though he, too, balked at having his future arranged by his parents. From what Wes had overheard, it appeared both of his brothers spent much of their time in London in pursuit of women who were not wife material and spent a great deal of money while doing so.

  His two younger sisters spent most of their time poring over the fashion plates their mother had brought back from London. He suspected it was her way of keeping them quiet and occupied. Wes’s parents were not all that fond of spending time with their children, though he knew from school that it was not unusual for families of the ton to leave the raising of children to nannies, nurses and tutors.

  Wes had been anxious to see his brothers and sisters again, but it appeared none of them were all that interested in spending time with him. The girls would rather talk about fashion and his brothers preferred sleeping, drinking and wagering on the minutiae of country life. He knew they would leave for London at the earliest opportunity and another holiday would be over without much celebrating.

  He wished he could be with his two friends. Ever since becoming friends with Lorton and Jones, Wes had asked his father if he could invite the boys home for Christmas, but the answer had always been the same. Lorton could come since that would be an advantageous connection, despite the boy being, as his father put it, a “cripple.” However, Lorton’s family had refused him permission to come. Wes suspected it wasn’t because they would miss him if he left. They just did not want him to be happy.

  Wes’s father had refused to even consider having Jones join them, given his status as a charity student of unknown parentage – though Wes’s father had not used such polite language in describing him. The earl had said Jones was a bastard through and through and not fit company for any son of an earl, even a third one.

  It was a cold, dreary day as Wes stole two biscuits from the kitchen, then set out to find his brothers. They were in the library, imbibing from their father’s substanti
al selection of port.

  “May I have a glass?” Wes asked, as he closed the door behind him.

  “We were having a private conversation,” said Francis.

  “Pour him one, anyway,” said Wilton. “It’s not like you have to pay for it.”

  “I was hoping to take a few bottles back to town,” said Francis, as he poured Wes half a glass.

  Wes took a small sip of the strong drink and coughed, making both of his brothers laugh.

  “I see Eton has not yet made a man out of you,” said Wilton. “In this or any other way, I reckon.”

  “I never meet any girls, if that’s what you mean,” said Wes.

  “There are plenty of scullery maids and tavern wenches if you really want to dip your wick. Mayhap you do not wish to,” said Francis in a mocking tone of voice.

  “Of course I wish to,” said Wes. “It just seems unfair to take advantage of girls in service at the school.”

  “That never stopped us,” said Francis. “And with enough coin, you can get a chit to do anything. Sometimes you don’t even have to pay them. Our family is certainly proof of that.”

  Both of his brothers smirked, though Wes didn’t know why. “Is there something I do not know?”

  “Many things,” said Wilton. “But there is one thing in particular which might surprise you, if we deign to enlighten you.”

  “What is it?” asked Wes.

  “We shouldn’t tell him,” said Francis. “He is sure to say something to upset Mama.”

  “I will not say anything to upset her.” How could he? His mother rarely spoke to him.

  “He’ll find out eventually,” said Wilton. “And it would serve father right to have his escapades laid bare. Lord knows he is overly concerned about our so-called indiscretions.”

  “He’ll tell,” said Francis.

  “I will not!” said Wes, gulping his drink and feeling the burn all the way down his throat.