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Authors: Valerie Wood

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas, #Romance, #General, #Historical

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BOOK: Far From Home
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Such nerve, she bristled. ‘I am related to the Newmarch family by marriage,’ she said coldly. ‘You must be from another branch of the family?’

‘Yes, ma’am, my family came originally from the west of Yorkshire. They were – in the mining business.’

Perhaps they were. She continued to watch him. But as coal workers, not as owners. ‘And so you decided to take a chance in America? Did you come alone?’ she asked pertinently.

Could this be true? But why is Allen using Edward Newmarch’s name? I must find out before I challenge him.

‘No.’ He appeared to hesitate. ‘I came with a – friend, but we went our separate ways. He – we were staying in New Orleans, then he moved to California.’

One of the staff came up to Wilhelm Dreumel. ‘Beg your pardon, Mr Dreumel, but your table is ready.’

Wilhelm Dreumel turned to Georgiana and asked if she would care to join them for supper.

‘Thank you, no,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you and Mr
Newmarch
,’ she emphasized the name, ‘have much to discuss. Miss Kelly and I have a table in the corner.’ She indicated a table already set for two. ‘And we need to make plans.’

‘Of course.’ Dreumel bowed and Allen backed away, a grim expression on his face. ‘I trust that we will meet again soon.’

He’s such a nice man, Georgiana mused, thinking of Wilhelm Dreumel. I can’t let him be taken in by that impostor. And what has happened to Edward? She thought of her cousin May, totally without means of her own and dependent on her father. I must write and tell her. If Edward is dead, for that blackguard could have disposed of him, then she might be able to get her dowry back. If there’s anything left of it.

‘Miss Gregory!’ Kitty whispered. Her blue eyes were wide as they sat down at the table and waited to be served. ‘That’s Robert Allen! Mr Newmarch’s valet! I met him once when I went with you to see Mrs Newmarch. He was cleaning his shoes! Mr Newmarch’s shoes, I mean!’

‘I know,’ Georgiana answered in a low voice. ‘And he knows that we know. But what to do? That’s the question.’

Kitty’s eyes grew even wider and her red hair seemed to stand on end. ‘Suppose – do you suppose that he’s done something dreadful to Mr Newmarch?’

‘I do hope not,’ Georgiana said, then as their food was brought to the table, murmured, ‘Kitty, get on with your supper. We must act as if there is nothing untoward until I have had time to think.’ She began her soup. ‘I don’t think he’s wearing his own clothes: they don’t seem to fit well.’

‘He’s mebbe had to buy more,’ Kitty whispered hoarsely. ‘Mebbe the others got bloodstained and he had to get rid of them!’

‘Kitty!’ she admonished, though the same thought had crossed her own mind. ‘We must remain calm until we find out the truth.’

The truth, or what was deemed to be the truth, came later that evening. They finished their supper, took a short walk into one of the nearby gardens and then returned to the Marius. Robert Allen was sitting by himself in the hotel lounge with a glass of ale on the table in front of him. He rose from his seat when he saw them enter, obviously intending to speak.

‘Go on up, Kitty. I mean to have a few words with Robert Allen,’ Georgiana said in a tight voice.

‘Are you sure, miss?’ Kitty was alarmed. ‘He might be dangerous.’

‘He’s hardly likely to attack me in full view of the hotel staff!’ Georgiana asserted. ‘Off you go. I shall be perfectly all right.’

With several backward glances Kitty mounted the stairs and Georgiana moved towards Allen, whose expression was pinched and nervous.

‘So, Allen.’ She refused to afford him the dignity of a prefix to his name and saw him flinch. ‘You have assumed another name, and one which does not rightly belong to you!’

‘Miss Gregory! It is not what it might seem. Won’t you sit down and I will try to explain?’

‘It is not what it might seem!’ she said coldly. ‘
What
is not as it might seem? It appears to me that you are masquerading as someone else. That is perfectly obvious from where I am standing, no matter what it might
seem
to be!’ She didn’t sit down as he had requested but remained standing firmly in front of him. ‘What has happened to Mr Newmarch?’

He pressed his lips together and shuffled his feet. ‘We parted company,’ he muttered. ‘He, erm – he became acquainted with a Spaniard in New Orleans. They had a disagreement over something and Mr Newmarch went into hiding. He didn’t come back, so I set off for New York. That was well over a year ago. I’ve not heard of him since.’

She gave a thin smile. ‘So you’re using his name, wearing his clothes and spending his money?’ Or May’s money, she thought, for she still held that charge against Edward Newmarch, even though in the eyes of English law a wife’s possessions belonged to her husband.


Not
his money,’ he insisted. ‘I haven’t used his money. I only drew what was due to me. His name, yes. I thought I would stand a better chance of success by using his name and background.’

‘And what if he should want to use his own name?’ She sank down into a chair. ‘Or is he not in a position to need it?’

He didn’t seem to grasp the implication of her words for he replied, a trifle arrogantly, ‘This is a big country, Miss Gregory. There are many men with similar names.’

‘Who come from the north of England?’ she said derisively. ‘Come, come, Allen. You can surely do better than that!’

‘I never thought—’ he began.

‘You never thought that you would be found out! Well, I can tell you that you are found out and that I shall inform Mr Dreumel at the earliest opportunity! I shall also write to my cousin, Mrs Newmarch, to tell her that her husband has disappeared, and an impostor has taken on his identity.’

She stared Allen in the face. His cheeks had become quite ashen. ‘If you have any decency left in you at all, will you tell me whether I can inform her if her husband is dead or alive?’

He shrugged. ‘He was alive when I last saw him,’ he said. ‘I swear that he was.’

‘Is there proof of that apart from your word?’ she asked bitingly. ‘Is there anyone else who can verify it?’

‘No,’ he muttered. ‘He said he needed to hide away for a couple of weeks.’

‘Why didn’t you go with him if he was in trouble? Why did you come to New York?’

‘He told me to wait, that he would come back when things had died down. I don’t know what kind of trouble it was except that there was a woman involved. I was ill in New Orleans. The climate didn’t suit me at all. I had malaria. So – when he didn’t return, I decided to leave and come back to New York.’

‘Come back?’ she asked.

‘Yes, we had a few hours here on first arriving in America. I liked the feel of it. On the journey back I met Dreumel.’

‘It still doesn’t account for your using Edward Newmarch’s name instead of your own!’

‘It doesn’t, does it?’ His face became devoid of expression. ‘But whatever I tell you, Miss Gregory, you’re not going to believe me.’ He lifted his chin and gazed back at her. ‘So believe whatever you want. But I’ll tell you this. Wilhelm Dreumel depends on me and if you tell him who I really am, he’ll probably dismiss me and all the work we’ve done will come to nothing. He’ll lose money and so will his partner.’

She was stunned. Whatever should she do? She rose to her feet and he did also, so that they stood facing each other. ‘I shall think about telling Mr Dreumel,’ she said at last, and saw a flicker of relief on his face. ‘Though I shall definitely write to my cousin,’ she added. ‘She must be informed.’

‘As you wish, Miss Gregory.’ He gave her a brief bow and left, speaking first to the desk clerk then striding swiftly upstairs.

She followed more slowly and on entering her room found Kitty sitting by the fire, sewing a button onto one of her gloves. ‘Did you get any sense out of him, Miss Gregory? Did he tell you what’s happened to Mr Newmarch?’

Georgiana sat down. ‘No, not really. Allen said he was alive when he left him. That was in New Orleans. Allen’s up to something, no doubt about that. But what?’

‘Poor Mrs Newmarch,’ Kitty said, biting off a piece of thread. ‘It’s bad enough her husband going off and leaving her, without somebody else spending his money.’

‘He said he hasn’t,’ Georgiana murmured. ‘But I’m not sure that I believe him. I must write to May immediately.’ Having made the decision she rose quickly, going across to the table which also served as a writing desk. ‘He said, Allen, I mean, that he last saw Edward in New Orleans over a year ago. So—’ She tapped her finger on her lip. ‘Good heavens,’ she said. ‘He could be anywhere.’

Kitty looked up. ‘Why – you wasn’t thinking of going to look for him, Miss Gregory? Was you?’


Were you
, Kitty,’ she answered vaguely. ‘Not wasn’t. No, I wasn’t. Edward Newmarch means nothing to me, though I’d like to track him down for May’s sake and give him a piece of my mind.’

Kitty looked confused over the corrected grammar but simply asked if it was far to New Orleans, because if it wasn’t, perhaps they could go and see if he was still there.

‘It would take weeks, Kitty, and I’ve other more important things to think of.’

She thought of them all night long, tossing and turning in her bed as she deliberated whether or not to tell Wilhelm Dreumel about Robert Allen. Finally, as a rosy dawn was breaking, she decided what she must do and promptly fell into a deep sleep, not waking until nine o’clock when Kitty knocked on her door and asked if she wanted breakfast.

She struggled to a sitting position. ‘Yes,’ she croaked, ‘but I’ll have it up here, Kitty. Would you go down and ask them to send up coffee and toast and marmalade?’

Ten minutes later, Kitty returned carrying a tray laid for breakfast. ‘They were busy downstairs, miss, so I brought it up,’ she said. ‘Folk just arriving on ’morning coach and other folks leaving.’ She put down the tray and opened the curtains. ‘I’ve just seen that nice Mr Dreumel leaving with Robert Allen.’

‘What? Oh no!’ Georgiana had decided during the night that she would tell Wilhelm Dreumel about Allen after all. It wasn’t something that should be hidden. She got out of bed and rushed to the window, but the street was empty.

‘Did they get on the coach?’ she asked.

‘Yes, miss. That one that goes to catch the river boat.’

Confound it! This is Allen’s doing, she thought. He’s persuaded Dreumel to go back to the mine before I get a chance to talk to him! She finished her breakfast, washed and dressed and went downstairs to the reception desk.

‘Could you tell me when Mr Dreumel will be returning?’ she asked. ‘Has he rebooked his room?’

‘Mr Dreumel has a permanent room, Miss Gregory,’ the clerk said. ‘He doesn’t need to book.’ He reached under the desk. ‘He asked if I would give you this letter.’

She took it from him and went to sit by a window to read it. ‘Dear Miss Gregory,’ he wrote. ‘I’m sorry that I have had to rush away, but Newmarch brought news of importance and it is imperative that we leave immediately. I shall be away for several weeks, I fear, but trust that I shall still find you at the Marius on my return. You must ask the staff for anything that you require and they will do their best to oblige you. Should you have any difficulties or problems during your stay in New York, John Charlesworth would most certainly be able to help you for he knows many people.

‘I send you my very best regards,

‘Wilhelm Dreumel.’

Bother. Bother. Bother! Now what do I do? I must do something! She sat fuming. I didn’t expect to have to deal with complications like this! I came to find a new life, for heaven’s sake! A life for myself, and here I am, running around after everyone else. She knew that she couldn’t let the matter drop. She owed it to May and also to May’s father, who had been responsible for her when she was a child. She could not just ignore the problem.

Kitty came down the stairs and stood beside her. ‘What are we going to do today, Miss Gregory? I’m at a loose end not having any jobs to do.’

‘How would you like to go on a journey, Kitty?’

‘That would be nice, miss.’ Kitty beamed at her. ‘Very nice. Where to?’

Georgiana look a deep breath. ‘I don’t know yet. But somewhere.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Edward and Rodriguez chatted well into the afternoon, Rodriguez topping up Edward’s glass with malmsey and then ordering coffee to be brought in. The coffee was strong, sweet and spicy and Edward felt his heart thumping.

‘Perhaps you would like to take a siesta, Mr Newmarch?’ Rodriguez proposed. ‘It is our custom after luncheon, though we are a little later than usual. I suggest,’ he said with a smile, ‘that you might prefer to rest before driving back to your hotel – unless, of course, I send one of my boys to drive you, though they too will be sleeping now.’

‘No, please, don’t trouble, señor. I will just close my eyes for ten minutes before leaving.’ Edward did not want to overstay his welcome.

‘Then, come!’ Rodriguez clapped his hands and a black boy appeared. ‘Take Mr Newmarch to a guest room. Make sure he has everything he requires.’

‘Yes, señor. If you would come this way, sir.’ The boy led Edward out of the room, along the landing and opened a door into a bedroom. The curtains were drawn, making the room cool and dim. A large draped bed with a mosquito net over it had the sheets laid back ready for occupancy. On a rail near a marble washstand were soft white towels and a white cotton robe.

‘If you’d sit down, sir, I’ll unfasten your boots,’ the boy said. Edward obeyed, holding up first one foot and then the other. He took off his jacket, which the boy hung up. He handed him the robe.

‘There’s fresh orange juice and water on the table, sir, but if you want anything else just ring.’ He showed him a silver handbell placed on the table beside the bed. ‘I’ll be right outside.’

Edward took off his trousers and shirt, put on the robe and slipped beneath the mosquito net. Within minutes he was asleep.

When he awoke it was evening. The bright sunlight had dimmed and a cooling breeze was blowing the curtains. He sat up. Good God! What time was it? He looked at his fob watch, which he had placed on the table. Six o’clock!

He quickly dressed, first washing his hands and face with scented water which was in a bowl on the washstand. He poured a glass of orange juice and drank thirstily. His head was throbbing, the effect of too much wine.

BOOK: Far From Home
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