Hermione Steele
The third book concerning the lives of Hartley brothers and their adopted sister, Natalie, now the Duchess of Lonsworth, takes place in 1864.
Robin Hartley, the Earl of Manningley falls madly in love with a beautiful young widow, Jonquil Jamison, Duchess of Allerton. Unfortunately Jonquil’s marriage, though of only six weeks duration, was so appalling she is terrified to remarry, so although she falls in love with Robin she rebuffs his advances.
In the meantime Robin’s younger brother, Brian, now a successful artist living in Paris, has fallen hopelessly in love with Miss Jenny Helliwell, and she with him. Jenny, a young lady rescued from dire circumstances by Robin, is secretary to the brothers’ grandmother, Lady Pepper. Alas, due to a misunderstanding upon their first meeting, Brian believes Jenny to be Robin’s intended so, to Jenny’s utter dismay and his eternal regret, does not declare his love.
The two men’s predicament is not aided by each believing that the other has designs on the lady he loves. But after a spring and summer of torment at balls in London, the races and a church fête at Epsom they all return to their homes in Yorkshire where two startling incidents occur that change their lives forever.
Hermione Steele was born and raised in West Yorkshire, England then lived in London for five years while working in the theatre. After marriage she moved to the U.S. and resided in various states, but most of her adult life has been spent in the Maryland/Virginia area. She uses these three areas London, West Yorkshire and Virginia as the settings for her books. Hermione now lives in Southern California.
The West Riding of Yorkshire, January 1864
As he waited for his coach to come to a halt he became aware of a small commotion at the workers entrance some twenty yards up the hill to his left. A young woman appeared to be pleading with the watchman. This was not an unusual occurrence, employees who were late returning to work frequently pleaded, not always politely, to be allowed through the gates. After all, missing an afternoon’s pay was not something to be taken lightly. The pleading never worked, and most did not even try, they knew the watchman would lose his job if he let a worker through the gate once it was locked. Usually they would just shrug their shoulders and go on their way.
But there was something about the girl that held Robin’s attention. Her hands were grasping the vertical railings of the gate, her forehead was resting on the cold metal bars between her hands. There was an air of desperation about her. He could not hear what either was saying; he could only see the watchman vigorously shaking his head, no doubt anxious to get back into his little hut with its brazier on such a cold day. His curiosity was aroused; he walked toward the scene being played out a short way up the hill.
The girl did not see him approach so remained where she was until the watchman said, “Good afternoon, milord.” The man removed his cap and held it with both hands. He sounded and looked nervous. “She was late back, milord.”
“Yes, I gathered that.”
The girl turned and looked up at him; she was, perhaps, five feet three, about the same height as his sister, Nat. He was startled by the blue of her eyes, while they were not the deep sapphire blue of his sister’s they were still unusual in color. Her flaxen hair, what little he could see of it under the shawl she was drawing closely under her chin, was curly. He noticed that her gloves had holes in them, and that both the shawl and her coat were threadbare; her dress had been very neatly darned in several places around the hem, which was showing considerable wear. But she was extremely clean and neat; she was also, Robin noted, very young and remarkably pretty even though her face was pale and drawn.
She spoke in little more than a whisper. ”He will not let me in, my lord. Please have him open the gate, please. I desperately need the money.”
“You know you are not allowed through the gates if you are late, my girl, and I will not make exceptions. What happened to make you late?” He did not know why he was taking such an interest; something in the way she had been leaning disconsolately against the gate, no doubt, and because she looked half-starved.
Her shoulders sagged, again she spoke in a whisper, “The bailiff’s men, they came this morning and took everything I had. My neighbor was waiting to tell me when I left work at dinnertime. I do not usually go home, there is not time, but I had to go today, I had to see if they had left me anything.”
Her accent was not that of the usual mill worker, she sounded to be of the middle classes. It raised his curiosity higher. He was also curious as to why she found herself in this plight, the wages he paid were better than any other mill in the area, so why was she so poverty stricken that she had lost all her belongings and was dressed in rags?
“What is your name?”
“Jenny Helliwell, my lord.”
