Winslow's Web Page 5

  "You did say your uncle was on your mother's side of the family. Are you certain of that?"

  "Oh yes. I do believe so. My mother never said he was her brother, but she did say he was my uncle and she carried a picture of him in her locket. She did not have a likeness of my father, who died before I was born, and it would seem strange to have a miniature painting, to fit a locket, of my father's brother and not one of him, don’t you think? Yet it would be very possible to have one of her brother if they were close."

  Katie lamented at not knowing more about her Uncle James, or where to find him. If this were not so, perhaps she wouldn’t feel so abandoned and at the mercy of this perplexing man. She tried not to accept the possibility that there may be scant hope of ever locating him though. Just the same, she had to admit she had little, if anything to go on.

  Katie had been very young, the one and only time she had ever seen the tall, thin, towering man, who seemed more of a stranger to her, than family. Even then, she had hidden shyly behind her mother’s long billowing skirts. The only reason Katie remembered Uncle James at all, was because her mother had seemed so upset at the time and had begged him not to leave when he had made ready to depart.

  Katie felt a fleeting stab of pain at recalling how her mother had pleaded with Uncle James and tried to make him understand how lonely it was living with her young daughter in their small cottage in such a secluded place as Windy Gates. In spite of her mother’s tears and pleading, Katie could still hear the echo of his laugh as he shrugged, and bowed rather stiffly, saying he was sorry, but he had other plans, and must be on his way. The indifferent tone of his voice, stayed with Katie still.

  As a child, she had watched through innocent young eyes, as her uncle kissed her mother on the cheek and said that perhaps he would stop in again to check on how she and the child were doing. Katie’s smoldering green eyes darkened, like depressed velvet, at the sad reality that her uncle had never returned. Even though Katie often saw the sad expression in her mother’s eyes, whenever she gazed at the little locket that held his portrait, Katie’s mother seldom spoke of him after that.

  The incident had happened so long ago, that Katie wasn’t even sure if her uncle was even still alive. All she did know was that the compelling urge to find the only relative she knew of, pulled at her until there was no other choice but to respond to it, in order to rid herself of the dreadful loneliness that consumed her.

  Sadly, Katie had to consider the fact that her mother never told her much about her own past or even about Katie’s father. Now that her mother was gone, Katie realized how little she knew about the gentle woman, not to mention her father, or Uncle James.

  Katie fumbled with the locket around her neck, as she leaned towards Lord Emerson and opened the little heart to reveal the miniature of her uncle. His gaze took in the upper mounds of her soft white breast, as he peered down at the locket. Clearing his throat, he looked away.

  “Remove it please,” he said in a guarded tone. Her very closeness, seemed to be filling his head, and that was the last thing he wanted.

  Too late, Katie realized her shameless actions, and color flooded her cheeks, as she sat back suddenly and began groping for the latch at the back of her neck with flustered fingers. She was not used to wearing such revealing clothes, and now she felt perplexed at her innocent gesture. She could see that Lord Emerson was completely amused at her faux pas. With a slight smile that played at the corners of his mouth, he rose from his chair. In a few steps, he was behind her, gently brushing her hair aside as he unfastened the clasp for Katie. The touch of his fingers on her neck sent an electric avalanche cascading throughout her body, and she hoped he hadn't sensed it. Not after, she had so blatantly flaunted her breasts in his face! She couldn't understand why his casual touch should affect her in the least, and she felt impatient with herself for being so susceptible to this man.

  Lord Emerson could not help but breathe in the perfumed fragrance of Katie’s hair, as he brushed the soft locks aside. He tried to distract himself from the smell of her as he gave the small likeness of Uncle James a brief examination then, once again replaced the locket about Katie's neck. Katie tried to steal herself against the havoc he was creating on her senses.

  "He doesn't look familiar to me," was all Lord Emerson said, as he let his hand linger on that soft white neck a little longer than he had intended to.

  Katie could not ascertain any hint of emotion in his voice. Had he been aware of the confusion he wrought on her, she wondered? His hand still rested on her neck, and she was trying to decipher the sensations it was causing. There was no time to discover the answer to those questions, as Dodge appeared in the doorway again, his arms now laden with a heavy ledger. Lord Emerson dropped his hand from her neck as the servant spoke.

  “Is this what you wanted to see sir?” He asked, holding the book out to Lord Emerson.

  “Yes, that will do Dodge, thank you.” He took the book and began thumbing through the pages, as he returned to his seat, feeling a little confused with himself and Dodge left them once again.

  “You say your mother’s name was Nancy?” he asked Katie after Dodge had departed, and he managed to concentrate once again on the matter at hand.

  “Yes,” There was eagerness to her voice. “She was scullery maid or something to that effect, I believe. I am not sure if she still worked here after her marriage to my father. She never spoke about him, you know.”

  “Strange,” Lord Emerson murmured, “but I doubt she would have continued to work here after she was married. Maids are not allowed to have relations with men while employed, and if they do marry, their husbands then support them, and they no longer remain as household servants. You understand it would be too complicated having help that is, uh, involved in having children and such.”

  Lord Emerson, feeling a little embarrassed at the conversation, suddenly plunged himself deep into concentration, as he turned the pages of the book, looking for some entry, which would enlighten them both on Katie’s identity. For a while, the room lay silent, except for the turning of pages, and the crackling of the fire. Katie busied herself by peering around the room. She had never seen such an impressive house before, but then she had never left the shelter of her own small cottage, and all of this was new to her.

  The huge fireplace that was framed in white marble, which was carved with scrolls and twining ivy, was a marvel to her. Over the mantel hung an impressive painting of hunters chasing the hounds, and Katie found herself caught up in the scene that was depicted in somber reds, browns, and greens. Two expensive vases of fresh cut flowers graced the mantel, and between the two vases, was a French clock, which ticked the time away softly. Presently she turned her attention to the imported rugs that artistically protected the polished hardwood floor with their intricate designs from some far off foreign land. A hand-stitched tapestry covered one wall, displaying the silken threads of a garden scene laid out in great detail. The plush pastel flowers depicted in overlays of fine expensive thread, and tinny decisive stitches, turning into a wonderland of artistry, were breathtaking to her. Katie, having been a seamstress, had herself spent many an hour laboring over her stitch-work, but she had never attempted anything as detailed or splendid as the piece that hung before her. There was a love seat gracing one corner, which drew her eyes with its attractive plush velvet covering. She wondered, aimlessly if anyone ever sat in it? The pendulum of a Grandfather clock, stroked each second, as it swung its course, in competition with the French clock, and this seemed to mesmerize Katie, as she watched it mark perfect time with the French clock on the mantel.

  At last, Lord Emerson broke the silence of the room as he asked her, in an unusually soft voice, “And if you do learn your uncle’s name... what then?”

  Katie pulled her eyes away from the plodding of the clock. “Why, I should search for him, of course!”

  “And how shall you know where to begin?”

  “Oh, I would probably go to London first and in
quire about until I’ve found someone who knew him.” Katie floundered lamely, realizing how unprepared she actually was to be undertaking such a ponderous search.

  “That could be a rather dangerous occupation for a lady.” Lord Emerson’s brows drew together as he pictured all manner of risks, this beautiful stranger would be taking. “Besides, what would you do if your funds run out?” The woman seemed so ill equipped to even attempt such an undertaking, that he felt an unexplainable pity for her.

  Katie felt he was finding ways to stump her and she looked at him perplexedly. “Must you put obstacles in my way before I’ve even begun?” she pouted. “Perhaps I shall never find my uncle, but at least, I shall try… and if I fail... well then I shall decide what to do when the time comes.”

  Lord Emerson discarded his search of the records for the moment. The woman was maddening! He didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry over her shameless naivety! Shaking his handsome head at Katie, he said, to her astonishment. “You don’t seem to be using your head in this matter at all! Have you not thought this out in the least? You do have other alternatives, you know. Instead of squandering your funds and traveling all over the country, why don’t you invest a few pounds in a newspaper article? Offer this likeness of your uncle for them to reproduce and include your uncle’s name, if you find out what it is, and have the article entered in all the major news sheets, inquiring the where about of your uncle. If he is anywhere in England, he would be sure to see it and contact you. Or perhaps an acquaintance of his may see it and bring it to his attention.” It was just like a woman, he thought, to go off without any practical planning to try and undertake something beyond their means!

  Katie felt like a silly schoolgirl being reprimanded by her teacher. She thought of the tutor her mother had hired with her hard earned money. Master Jamison had been the burden of her childhood, who had constantly drilled her and reprimand her when she got the answers wrong. It was exasperating enough that Lord Emerson was constantly advising her, or taking her affairs into his own hands, but this subtle belittlement was almost more than she could stomach! All of his previous insults only added to her loathing of the man, despite the way he made her feel all trembling inside! Now she felt he was pointing out her stupidity, and she had scarcely known him for two hours!

  She silently churned within at his blithe rudeness, wishing furiously that she could rise to her feet and storm out of the room and back to Windy Gates, leaving Lord Alden Emerson, and his scathing insults behind. However, she calmed her anger with the sobering thought that without his help, she would never be able to continue her search for her uncle. Katie gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold back the simmering fury she would have liked to spit out at him.

  “You are quite right, Lord Emerson.” Her voice was stiff. “It seems I have been going about this all incorrectly. Perhaps you should advise me about everything, since you seem quite comfortable in taking charge of my affairs and belittling not only my character but also my capability!”

  It was about time she realized that he had more knowledge of such things! Lord Emerson resolved as he smiled to himself, and turned his attention to the book again. He didn’t make comment to her remark, and he knew that irritated her. Instead, he consumed himself with the information he was reaping from the forgotten ledgers. Katie noticed that he had been reading the same page for an uncomfortably long time, and she was becoming impatient to know what the cause of his delay could be.

  “Have you found something?” she asked tersely.

  His hesitation was perplexing. “Yes, I think I have.” He said at last. “There is a small entry here, and it may be what you are looking for.”

  Katie’s posture stiffened in anticipation. “Yes?” she urged.

  Lord Emerson’s voice drawled in a monotone as he read the written words. He began with the dates, but Katie found little interest in that part of the entry. However, he finally approached the portion she had been waiting for. “Cook at Emerson Manor: Nellie Dow. Hired also with cook, daughter, Nancy Dow, put on as Kitchen Help. Both good workers and eager in their Duties.”

  Nelly Dow? Nancy Dow? Katie was feeling confused. But that couldn’t be her mother’s maiden name! Dow was her own Sir name! She sat stunned, trying not to believe what he had just read, while Lord Emerson, apparently not affected by what he had just revealed, continued to flip the pages. He paused again. “It appears as though the cook, your grandmother, died not many years after she was hired, and her daughter became an upstairs maid,” he informed Katie.

  Katie stared blankly at him in silence. Tears began to well in her chest, pushing hard against her throat begging to be released, and she fought frantically to hold them back. Could it be true that she was illegitimate and never had a real father? She groped in her mind. Had he never died before she was born after all? If he had died, he had died never giving her mother or herself his name! Yet, she couldn’t imagine her mother having a passionate relationship with any man unless she had loved him. She must have truly loved him! Katie clung to that belief.

  All at once Katie clearly understood why she and her mother had lived so secluded in Windy Gates and why her childhood had not been like other children’s. Her mother had always discouraged any close associations with people, and had not allowed Katie to play with neighboring children in the village. The reason was all too revealing now! As a result, Katie had spent most of her time with her mother, learning how to sew and garden, and do practical things. She had never had the luxury of playing normal childhood games. Instead, she played games her mother devised for her. The only distraction she got was when the tutor came to teach her. It must have all been a ploy to keep her hidden from the discovery that she was not like other children. The reason, Katie had to admit, was because she had no legal father, or legal name.

  Katie’s mind spun in circles as she started putting the vaguely familiar clues together, which explained her mother’s outlandish ramblings just before she died.

  Only a few short hours before her mother had passed away, she had pleaded with Katie, in a groggy sounding voice, “I have not been honest with you Katie. I hope you can forgive me. The clues are all around you!”

  Katie had not understood what her mother was trying to tell her. She thought her mother had been referring to the secret box, a childhood game, she had devised for Katie to play. Katie thought that her mother had been trying to explain to Katie, before she died, how the secret box game had all just been make-believe.

  “There is a secret box,” Katie recalled the soft loving voice of her mother, explaining the game, “and in that box there is a key that opens a magic door. When you find that key, and open that door, you will discover wonderful things are in store for you there.”

  “But where is the box, mother?” Katie had asked.

  “That is the secret! You must find the clues that lead to it. The clues are all around you, but it is up to you to discover what they are.”

  “You must tell me. Where is the door that it unlocks?” Katie would demand.

  “When you find the box and the key, you will know where the door is,” her mother had informed her.

  Try as she may, Katie had never gotten her mother to give her any clues.

  “They are all around you,” was all she would say.

  The clues were never forthcoming though. No matter how hard Katie searched, and she sadly realized that she had never known quite what to look for, or where she should look?

  She thought of her music box, packed in her saddlebags. As a child, she had wished it was the secret box, but it was merely a music box that played a childhood lullaby, which her mother had sometimes sung to her. Sadly, the music box did not hold a key to wonderful things. The only thing it held was the strange sad melody of a long forgotten lullaby. The thought only brought back memories of those carefree childhood days, and the security she had felt as her mother held her close, singing with the notes of that haunting melody.

  But at the time, her moth
er’s ramblings did not make sense, because Katie had always thought the secret box was just a game anyway. Could it be that her mother had been trying to tell her the mystery of her birth, but hadn’t been brave enough to tell her the truth? Had her mother made up the secret box game to help Katie look for clues and seek answers that would eventually lead her to discover something more about where she really came from? Was that the key she was supposed to find, she wondered?

  No! It must have truly only been a game. She could not think of any wonderful things deriving from the discovery that she was illegitimate. Even if a King had been her father, the very fact that she was born out of wedlock would prevent her from claiming his name.

  How silly of her to think that if she found Uncle James, he would gladly be willing to tell her who her father was! Was that the reason Uncle James had not wanted to remain there? Apparently, her mother never wanted her to discover the truth about her birth, or she would have told her at some point, before she died. Now the idea of looking for her uncle, who probably wanted no part of her, seemed absurd! Even if he did know who her father was, what good would that accomplish? She did not want to dig up old skeletons!

  Her confused thoughts were interrupted by Lord Emerson’s calm voice once again referring to the ledger before him. “And here is an entry a few years later… ‘Upstairs maid, Nancy Dow, left Emerson Manor unexpectedly after collecting her wages. None of the household servants could give an explanation as to her sudden departure.’ ”

  Katie was still struggling hard to hold back the furious tears. It was so clear to her now. Of course, she left suddenly when she discovered she was with child, and no father to claim it! If a maid was discovered pregnant she would be tossed out on her ear anyway. Hadn’t Lord Emerson just told her that servants were not to have affairs with men while they were working for the household? No wonder her mother never spoke of her father. No wonder Uncle James was reluctant to stay with them. There had never been a dead husband. There was just no husband at all!