Chapter One
December 1873
Pearlbelle Park
Kent, England
Ivy Knight rolled out of bed and sat on the floor, rubbing her arms against the bitter mid-December chill. There was a fire in the grate, but even its cheery warmth couldn’t force back the cold. Pulling a blanket to the ground and wrapping it around herself, she stared absently at the wall, organizing her thoughts for the morning. Another day at Pearlbelle Park—and she wasn’t optimistic about it.
Alice and Kitty weren’t here right now—Alice had probably gone out riding with Mr. Knight and Kitty liked to wonder down to the kitchen. Nettie didn’t even live in the house. And, of course, Mummy was too busy to help her at the moment.
Which meant the only person to take care of her was—
The door banged open behind her, and Ivy jumped.
“Miss Ivy, what are you doing on the floor?”
Ivy raised her eyes to the maid’s face, taking in her pointy nose and pinched face. She blinked once, twice, and tried to think of a suitable reason.
“Stand up. It’s time to get dressed.” The maid, Elsie, marched across the room and jerked Ivy to her feet before she could move.
Ivy gasped but stood still while she was stripped of her nightgown. Now she was even colder, and the shivers threatened to cut her in two. Elsie tossed some of Ivy’s clothes on the bed—not Ivy’s favorites but the scratchy ones everyone insisted she wear.
She sighed and submitted to Elsie’s rough dressing. She could dress herself—truly she could. Nettie had made sure of that. But Elsie never wanted to wait for her; she said Ivy took too long, and she had other things to do. Ivy didn’t know what Elsie had to do. After all, it was her job to take care of Ivy, wasn’t it?
“There.” Elsie gave a tight nod. “Let’s comb your hair. We can’t have you looking any more like a wild thing than you already are.”
Ivy winced. Why did Elsie always have to say such things?
The brush came out, and Elsie ripped it through her hair. The maid didn’t understand, Ivy supposed, that when one had “beautiful, thick hair,” as Nettie always said, one had to start from the tips and work upward.
Elsie didn’t have pretty hair, so perhaps that was why she didn’t understand how much it hurt to rip through lots of long tangles in one stroke.
Ivy wasn’t a baby; she didn’t whine. But she couldn’t help the tears that trickled down her cheeks.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Elsie’s eyes rolled in disgust. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
It did. But Ivy could bite her lip and look away and try to think of other things if it made Elsie happier.
At last, her hair was brushed and braided, far too tight, and Elsie rubbed a cloth over Ivy’s face, which made her cheeks burn.
“There. You’re ready.” Elsie’s critical gaze moved over Ivy’s entirety, and she nodded. “As ready as you’ll ever be. Heavens, I’d die if I had a child with eyes so vacant! Why don’t the Knights send you somewhere?”
Ivy blinked. Her eyes were vacant? What was vacant? It must be a bad thing if it meant the Knights—she supposed that was Mummy, now, and Mr. Knight—were to send her away over it.
The thought of being sent away from Mummy had more tears starting, no matter how much she tried to stop them. Didn’t Elsie understand that sometimes words could bite? Nettie would never have said such a thing. Nettie wouldn’t have even thought such things!
“Eh, there you go crying again.” Elsie turned to make Ivy’s bed. “As if you can understand me! Well, perhaps you can, but not much. You’re not like the rest of us, Miss Ivy. Why did I ever take this job? If it weren’t for my mum needing the extra money, I never would have …”
Elsie went on talking to herself, and Ivy walked across the room to peek out the window, trying to think of other things. If she kept her mind elsewhere, the tears wouldn’t start again. Ivy didn’t want Elsie to complain about how often she cried anymore.
All of Pearlbelle Park was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. By noon, winter sunlight always took on a harsh look, but the mornings were beautiful, causing the frost to sparkle on the grass and the trees and everything else.
Ivy didn’t like winters, generally, because they were so cold. The cold seemed to reach her quicker than Alice or anyone else she knew, sinking through her skin and making her heart shudder. Alice said it was because she didn’t have any meat on her bones, but Ivy thought it was because cold was evil.
As if on cue, Ivy’s twin sister came running into their bedroom, cheeks rosy and hair flying out of her braid. Alice glanced around the room, narrowing her eyes slightly when she saw Elsie.
“Elsie, are you almost done?”
Ivy loved nothing more than the sound of Alice’s voice when she was in control, and Alice was always in control. If only Ivy could speak to someone like that, compelling them to react by the sound of her voice.
Elsie bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, Miss Alice. I believe everything’s been tended to, unless you need something.”
“No, I’ll tend to myself. Run along.”
Elsie scurried away, and Alice went to her dresser drawers. “Come here, Ivy. Let’s wash your face.”
Ivy sniffled and rubbed her sleeve under her nose—then scolded herself, for young ladies didn’t do such things. “I-I’m not sad.”
“I know.” Alice crossed the room, handkerchief in hand, and lifted Ivy’s face. A few gentle dabs had most of the tears gone. “Was Elsie horrid today? I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s all right.” Ivy tried a smile. “I’m all right.”
Alice didn’t seem convinced, but Ivy was determined to convince her. She puffed up her chest and took a firm stance, looking up at her sister.
They used to be at least similar in height, but suddenly Alice had grown—and grown and grown. Ivy supposed it was because they were almost twelve, but she didn’t feel like she was almost twelve.
Alice looked it.
Ivy forgot what she was going to say and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Did you have a nice ride?” she asked at last.
Alice set the handkerchief down. “Yes, I did.” She undid the remains of her braid. “Papa and I rode to a part of the estate we hadn’t gone to yet. It was lovely.”
Papa. Ivy wondered if she should try harder to think of Mr. Knight as Papa. So far she hadn’t managed it, but then, she wasn’t sure she could think of him that way.
He was just a man who had come into their lives suddenly and now seemed to think he had a lot of privileges that Mummy had, like hugs and good-night kisses and telling bedtime stories.
He hadn’t earned them yet. Perhaps he never would.
“It’s almost time for breakfast.” Alice put the finishing touches on her new, much neater braid and turned to Ivy. “Are you ready? Did Elsie forget anything?”
Ivy rubbed at the crown of her head, remembering once again the harsh brushing. “No.”
“Ivy, look at me.”
Ivy raised her eyes to Alice’s. Her sister had the prettiest eyes, all dark and sparkling. “Alice, what’s vacant?”
Alice cocked her head. “Empty. Why?”