Page 5 of Lady Audacious
‘I don’t believe that Mr Sandwell has made a mistake.’
‘Even so, men are not to be trusted,’ she insisted darkly, ‘and you are being manipulated.’
The mistrust of the entire male species was a fond lament of Miss Mackenzie’s and one that she didn’t hesitate to trot out at regular intervals, but one upon which no amount of cajoling could persuade her to elaborate. Miss Mackenzie had probably been a handsome woman in her prime, but whatever expectations she might once have harboured had not been fulfilled. Presumably a man had made promises that he didn’t keep, and Miss Mackenzie did not have a forgiving nature.
‘I must know that you intend to return before the end of the summer holidays.’ She tutted, shaking her head when Odile failed to offer the required assurance. ‘All this gadding about on a whim. I don’t know what the world is coming to. Anyway, unless I hear from you, I shall have to fill your position.’
‘Best advertise it anyway,’ Odile said. ‘I should hate to cause more inconvenience if I am somehow prevented from returning.’
Miss Mackenzie seemed as discomposed by the idea as Odile herself felt. It amounted to an irreversible severing of all ties to the only world she had ever known, but this way she couldn’t have second thoughts and fall back on a livelihood that had never satisfied her thirst for adventure.
She had not told her former employer of the goodly sum she had inherited along with the house. The reassuringly large amount that Mr Sandwell had provided her with to “tide her over” represented an opportunity to free herself from her current limitations. She would only find the courage to do that by moving away from the dull routine of the school to which she had grown accustomed.
Odile took her place on the crowded coach, squashed against the window by a stout woman with a caged bird on her lap and an equally large man who spent the entire journey alternately sniffing and sneezing into a handkerchief. A younger man seated across from her sent her occasional speculative looks, but Odile pretended not to notice and ignored him. A nursemaid with two squabbling children took up the remaining places.
Perhaps she would indulge in a carriage of her own, she thought, smiling at a prospect that was now somewhat unbelievably within her grasp. Of course that would require her to employ a coachman, since she knew nothing about horses, had no idea how to drive and had never ridden. Even so, she reminded herself, it was never too late to learn, especially now that she had the wherewithal to please herself.
There were so many things she had never done that the over-privileged girls she had taught these past five years took for granted. But all of that was about to change, she reminded herself, sitting a little straighter and staring out the window at the passing scenery. She had yearned for adventure and it had fallen into her lap in the most unexpected manner.
Odile would inspect her new home, decide if she wanted to live there and then instigate enquiries into the property itself. She would never rest until she knew why she had been singled out for such largesse. It was impossible not to be curious. More to the point though, if she was an heiress, why had she had been obliged to scrape a living teaching other people’s children for so long? Was she being tested? Had someone been watching her before deciding that she was a worthy recipient of her inheritance? Were inheritances given out that whimsically? Questions that she had no answers to rattled round inside her brain.
Common sense dictated that her windfall had something to do with her family—a family about whom she had absolutely no recollections, which was beyond frustrating. But if they had lived in the house that was now hers, there were bound to be clues. Perhaps walking into Fox’s Reach would stir memories, always supposing that she had lived there before the accident. Someone local would remember her parents, surely?
She spent the rest of the uncomfortable journey contemplating the dramatic turn that her life had taken. Mr Sandwell must have some idea, but seemed determined not to share what he knew with her. Perhaps he had been forbidden from so doing. But why? The obvious explanation was that her father had made provision for his only child. Only child as far as she was aware, Odile conceded with a scowl.
It was so frustrating not to be able to recall a single element of her life before disaster had struck. It sometimes felt as though she had been born ten years old. She fingered the scars on her left arm that matched those on her thigh, aware that there were similar, less obtrusive but infinitely more damaging scars beneath her hairline.
As well as inside her head.
It was the damage to her brain that had caused all memories prior to the accident to evaporate, or so she had been told by the doctor who tended her. Not having an identity and only being aware of her name from her birth certificate that had been found amongst the wreckage had taken its toll, wearing away at Odile’s self-esteem. If she had been travelling with her parents in their private carriage, then why hadn’t anyone come forward to claim her? It was all so confusing, but at last Odile sensed that she was on the verge of finding answers to the questions that had plagued her these past eleven years.
The smell of the countryside and the noise of the rumbling wheels lulled the woman beside her to sleep, and her head fell onto Odile’s shoulder. The motheaten feather in her hat tickled Odile’s nose and caused her to sneeze. The odorous smell coming from the woman’s clothing and the bird’s cage made her feel nauseous and she shifted a little closer to the window, only to have the woman take up more of the seat. Odile lowered the window, ignoring the complaints of her fellow travellers as she filled her lungs with fresh country air.
The coach arrived at the Chichester turnpike, at which point the dozing woman woke with a snort and straightened her hat. The bird tweeted and she cooed at it.
‘The Anchor Inn,’ the coachman called out as he guided his team between the arches that led to the coaching inn’s yard.
Odile remained in her seat while her fellow passengers collected up their possessions, struggling beneath their weight as they alighted. No one offered to help Odile with her valise, but at least no one had attempted to make off with it either, a circumstance that Miss Mackenzie had predicted was bound to occur, what with Odile being a young lady travelling alone and not being versed in the evil ways of men.
Not quite as naïve as Miss Mackenzie assumed, Odile had taken the precaution of securing her valuables in a belt that she had tied around her waist beneath her clothing. She wouldn’t mind too much if anyone felt a pressing need to steal her valise, which contained her despised grey gowns and equally uninspiring undergarments, but she would regret the loss of her books. Her newly found wealth, on the other hand, she felt duty bound to protect, leaving just a few shillings in her reticule for the expense of the journey.
She enquired after a private carriage to take her to her destination and was soon installed in a gig, conveyed by a tired horse and driven by a small man who didn’t smell much better than the woman in the coach. The narrow seat didn’t afford her much more space either, but she managed to avoid colliding with the driver by taking a firm hold of a handle and took interest in the scenery as the horse plodded towards Arundel.
Odile gasped as the gig entered the old town with a castle standing sentry above it on a hillside.
‘Just been restored by the duke,’ the driver remarked, speaking for the first time and nodding in the direction of the castle. ‘He’s started a church school, an’ all.’
‘Really?’
No more schools, Odile thought uncharitably, wondering if her life was destined to be forever linked with education.
‘Aye. He’s done a lot, has the duke.’ The driver sniffed as he steered his horse through a bustling market square and along a street beside the river, passing well-kept houses, the fields behind them on the chalky escarpment populated by sheep. ‘The place you want is out the other side of the town,’ the driver continued.
Given that he seemed to have found his voice at last, Odile took the opportunity to tap into his local knowledge. ‘Who lived at Fox’s Reach?’ she asked.
‘Well, there’s a question.’ The answer to which required another long silence and indifferent sniff. ‘Been empty for as long as I can remember. Lots of speculation about its owner, but ain’t no one knows who that is.’
He drove on, having supplied information that only added to Odile’s determination to find answers. A feeling of belonging had been encroaching upon her since they left the town, and the closer they came to Fox’s Reach, the stronger that feeling became.I have been here before,she thought.But when and under what circumstances remained tantalisingly out of her reach, as did all of the brief flashes of recognition that had occasionally gripped her over the years.
