The Last Heiress
Authors: Mary Ellis
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Cover photos
©
Chris Garborg, Bigstock / Voy
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE LAST HEIRESS
Copyright © 2015 by Mary Ellis
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ellis, Mary,
The last heiress / Mary Ellis.
pages; cm
ISBN 978-0-7369-5052-7 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5053-4 (eBook)
1. HeiressesâFiction. 2. AbolitionistsâFiction. 3. Man-woman relationshipsâFiction.
4. United StatesâHistoryâCivil War, 1861-1865âFiction. I Title.
PS3626.E36L37 2015
813'.6âdc23
2014027020
All rights reserved.
No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherâwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author's and publisher's rights is strictly prohibited.
This book is dedicated to my friends Carolyne and Alan Way of Gosport, England, who provided background information on the garment industry of western England during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Carolyne's grandfather owned a coal mine in the Lancashire area that supplied the mills. Thanks also for helping with British slang and customs.
How lucky I am to have British friends willing to open their home and hearts to me.
Contents
Thanks to the countless authors of history I have pored over for years, including Shelby Foote, Bruce Catton, Ed Bearss, James M. McPherson, and Brian Pohanka. My favorite sources for this book were
Walking to Cold Mountain: A Journey Through Civil War America
by Carl Zebrowski, and
Fort Fisher 1865
by Chris E. Fonvielle Jr. This book contains a collection of photographs taken by T.H. O'Sullivan, apprentice to Mathew Brady, who worked in the Washington studio managed by Alexander Gardner, both famous Civil War photographers.
Thanks to Noah Janis and Caitlyn Rifenburg at the Fort Fisher State Historic Site for patiently explaining the minutiae of the fort and historic battle.
Thanks to the wonderful guides at the Bellamy House, the Lattimer House, and the First Presbyterian Church of Wilmington. Special thanks to Janet Davidson, historian at the Cape Fear Museum in Wilmington, for answering an inordinate number of questions and providing archival photos of the area during the Civil War.
Thanks to the Western Reserve Historical Society, Cuyahoga Valley Civil War Roundtable, the Peninsula Valley Foundation of Ohio, and GAR Hall, whose appreciation for Civil War history has kept my passion alive locally.
Thanks to the Wayne County Writer's Guild Novelists, especially Ruth, Bobbie, Christina, Darrell, Cyndi, and Kira, for your great brainstorming help.
Thanks to my agent, Mary Sue Seymour; my lovely proofreader, Joycelyn Sullivan; my editor, Kim Moore; and the wonderful staff at Harvest House Publishers. Where would I be without your hard work?
Manchester, England
February 1864
A
manda slumped in the dressing table chair, thwarting her maid's efforts for the third time.
“Please stop fidgeting, Miss Amanda, or I'll never finish your hair. At this rate you may miss breakfast altogether.” As she spoke she swiftly fastened the coiled braid to the back of Amanda's head with a half dozen long hairpins.
“I'm sorry, Helene. I don't know why I can't cut it off since it's such a bother, or at least wear it down until noon. After all, it's only my family at table.” Amanda stared at her wavy reflection in the mirror. The dreary winter had robbed her cheeks of all color. She was as pale as the ghost the staff insisted roamed the attic of Dunncliff Manor.
“You can't wear it down because you're not a child anymore. Young ladies must have fashionable
coiffures
unless they are abed with the fever and their continued earthly existence appears in
doubt.” Helene winked at Amanda's reflection in the mirror. “And cutting it off is advisable only if you plan to book passage to India disguised as a man.”
Amanda chuckled at the mental picture of herself dressed in flannel and tweed. “I've seen you in the garden of the carriage house with your hair plaited down your back. And you're older than I.”
“True enough, but I'm the widowed daughter of your papa's coachman. My appearance ceased to be of much interest the day I married. But you, Miss Amanda, should make a good impression wherever you are, no matter what time day or night.” Helene bent to whisper close to her ear. “How else will you catch a fine husband like a viscount or an earl?”
Amanda emitted a rude noise that would have appalled her mother. “Your suggestion sounds dreadfully dull. Instead, maybe I'll become an actress and travel the world, or perhaps a famous opera singer and appear on the finest stages of Rome, Vienna, and Paris.” She closed her eyes, imagining the sound of thunderous applause.
Helene freed two tendrils to soften the severe look of Amanda's upswept hair. “To be a famous opera singer, one must first be able to sing.” She tugged on a lock playfully. “Go to breakfast before your mama sends her maid after you.”
Without an alternative, Amanda dutifully obeyed. On her way downstairs, she heard rain pelting the window with chilling relentlessness. This time of year
any
career someplace warm sounded preferable to winter in Manchester.
“There you are, my dear. I feared you'd taken ill to be this tardy.” Agnes Dunn maintained a hawkish perusal of her daughter while sipping her tea.