Daughters of Fortune: A Novel (6 page)

“It wasn’t my fault,” the younger girl insisted, a slight tremor in her voice.

Elizabeth snorted. “Of course it wasn’t. It never is.” She scowled up at her sister. “Wait until I tell Granny about this.”

With that, Amber burst into tears.

“Girls? What’s going on?”

Elizabeth and Amber both looked over to see their mother in the doorway. Before Elizabeth could explain, Amber fled from the room, howling loudly.

“Amber!” Isabelle called, but the girl didn’t stop. After a moment, her bedroom door slammed shut.

Isabelle turned reproachful eyes on her eldest daughter. “What on earth’s the matter with Amber?”

“She’s being a drama queen. As usual.” Elizabeth explained about the broken necklace.

“Well, it sounds to me as if it was an accident,” Isabelle said tentatively, once she’d finished.

Elizabeth made no effort to disguise her outrage. “An accident! You know full well that she shouldn’t have been going through my stuff.”

Elizabeth wondered why she bothered. It was just like her mother to turn a blind eye to anything Amber did wrong. Three nannies had told Isabelle that she was far too lenient on her spoiled youngest daughter.
“You’re storing up a lot of problems for later on,” the last one had warned. “She can’t be allowed to feel that acting out is an acceptable way to get your attention.” Elizabeth had wholeheartedly agreed—but, yet again, Isabelle had failed to listen, allowing Amber to wear makeup and clothes that were far too old for her, no matter what William said.

Now Isabelle lowered her voice. “Please, Elizabeth. You know this . . . well, none of this has been easy on her.”

“It hasn’t exactly been easy on any of us, has it, Mummy?”

Elizabeth waited for an answer. When none was forthcoming, she sighed. That was the problem with her mother—she was weak. She always took the path of least resistance. Like having this Caitlin O’Dwyer come to live with them. Elizabeth didn’t understand why she couldn’t have just said no to William—told him that it was unfair to her and his two legitimate children. But, as usual, she let herself be walked all over. What kind of woman stayed with someone who had humiliated her like that?

The girl gave an impatient shrug. “Anyway, I should have a shower.”

“Yes, of course.” Isabelle glanced at her watch. “You’d better get ready quickly. Caitlin—”

“—will be here soon,” Elizabeth cut in. “Yes. I know.”

Isabelle looked pained at the scornful tone in her child’s voice.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said quietly.

Elizabeth was about to snap off a reply, when a sound from outside—car tires creeping up the gravel driveway—stopped her. Instinctively, both mother and daughter turned toward the window.
Damn
, Elizabeth thought. There would be no time to shower or change now.
She
was here.

_________

“Miss?” The chauffeur glanced in the rearview mirror. The girl was lost in a daydream, staring blankly out of the tinted car window as she had for the past three hours, during the long drive west from London to Somerset. Of course now they were off the motorway, the scenery had improved. But even as the Bentley sped past lush green fields dotted with fat sheep and grazing cows, the English countryside at its best, Perkins had a feeling that the view was the last thing on his charge’s mind. Hunched up by the door, chin buried in her hand, she looked very young and very sad, her gray mood at odds with the bright summer’s day outside. He almost felt bad disturbing her.

“Miss?” he said again, more loudly this time.

She started at his voice, automatically turning dull eyes toward him.

“Hope I’m not bothering you, Miss Caitlin,” he said gently. “But I thought you’d want to know that we’ll be arriving at Aldringham soon.”

“Thank you,” she said, polite but listless, then resumed looking out of the window before he could try to engage her in any further conversation. She hoped he didn’t think she was rude, but she couldn’t care less about reaching the Melvilles’ estate. She didn’t care about any of it. How could she, when the only reason she was here in the first place was because of what had happened to her mam? She felt her eyes filling with tears and impatiently brushed them away. She’d promised herself earlier that she wouldn’t cry again. Not until she was alone, at any rate.

It was six weeks since her mother’s funeral. Everyone had told her
that it would get easier after that. What did they know? The previous evening, she’d gone to pack up the cottage. Under William’s instructions, it was to be sold as soon as possible. Going through her Mam’s belongings had stirred up so many memories. When she hadn’t been able to face it any longer, Nuala had offered to take over. “I’ll know what she’d have wanted you to keep,” the older woman had said kindly.

However, if Caitlin had thought that was bad, it couldn’t compare to today: to leaving Valleymount. Róisín hadn’t understood why her friend wasn’t more excited about embarking on her glamorous new life with a wealthy family. But for Caitlin, saying good-bye to all the places and people she knew was like losing the last connection to her mother. The flight—her first; the seat in business class; being met at Heathrow by the Melvilles’ driver with the sleek black car . . . All these luxuries meant nothing given the circumstances. No wonder she didn’t feel like making small talk.

They drove on in silence for a while longer, through small towns and picture postcard villages and onto a series of increasingly winding lanes bordered by pretty stone cottages, until Perkins finally pointed into the distance.

“That’s where we’re ’eaded.”

Out of courtesy rather than any real interest, Caitlin leaned forward to get a glimpse of her new home. But then, as it came into view, she let out an involuntary gasp. To Caitlin, Aldringham looked like a Roman palace. It was a more accurate description than she realized. In fact, it was a Palladian mansion, typical of the lavish countryside estates built during the eighteenth century, when the newly excavated ruins at Pompeii fostered a neoclassical revival in England. Perkins saw her reaction and grinned. “Impressive, ain’t it?”

Imposing, more like. Set on the crest of a hillside, it seemed to dominate the surroundings for miles. Late afternoon sunshine glinted off the white Portland stone and marble façade, blinding Caitlin for a moment. She blinked, trying to focus her vision. She couldn’t decide if she liked the building or not. On the one hand, it was undeniably beautiful. The vertical lines and symmetry of the architecture gave the house a feeling of grace and elegance. But there was also something cold about the strict geometric design, as though nothing out of the ordinary would be tolerated.

Five minutes later, Perkins turned onto a private road that led up to
the entrance to Aldringham. Electronic gates swung soundlessly open, and the Bentley pulled into the sweeping carriage driveway. Great cedars lined the roadway. Through their leafy branches, Caitlin caught a brief glimpse of the grounds: fifty acres of untamed parkland rising to meet formal, manicured gardens leading up to the back of the house. A moment later, the landscape passed out of sight again and the car finally came to a stop.

Up until that point, Caitlin hadn’t given much thought to what her new situation would be like; she’d been too preoccupied with her grief. But suddenly, for the first time, she felt a shiver of trepidation run through her. However bad everything had been over the past few months, at least then she had been surrounded by friends, people like Nuala who cared. Now, she was going to live in a house full of strangers, who probably didn’t even want her there. Trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach, she got out of the car.

William stood on the north front waiting to greet her. He looked just as intimidating as she remembered. Growing up, whenever she’d imagined what her father would be like, she’d always thought of someone like Róisín’s dad—a simple, kind man, someone familiar. William Melville was nothing like that. He was distant and aloof, with his upper-class accent and stiff manner. Caitlin still found it hard to believe they were related.

She stood awkwardly as he bent to kiss her on each cheek. “Welcome to Aldringham, Caitlin.” He turned to a well-kept woman who hovered a little way behind him. In an expensive-looking cream suit, her fair hair pulled neatly back in a French twist, she looked terribly elegant. “This is my wife, Isabelle.”

Caitlin felt a fresh set of nerves ripple through her. But, while she had been expecting a hostile greeting, Isabelle surprised her. Without any prompting, she walked forward and embraced Caitlin.

“We’re so pleased to have you here, my dear.” Her tone was soft and surprisingly sincere.

“Good,” William said, clearly pleased by the display. “Let’s go inside. My daughters are waiting to meet you.”

The hallway was every bit as magnificent as Caitlin had imagined, with a flagstone floor, oak-paneled walls, and a grand staircase that disappeared up into the rest of the house. She had no time to take it in, though, as William whisked her through a labyrinth of long, dark
corridors. She tried to memorize her way back to the main hall but eventually gave up.

Caitlin couldn’t help wondering what Elizabeth and Amber would be like. Growing up, she’d always wanted brothers and sisters, but she wasn’t sure she would have anything in common with girls who had been brought up in a place like this. As William pushed open the drawing room’s heavy mahogany doors, Caitlin plastered on a friendly smile and hoped she was about to be proved wrong. She wasn’t. Two resentful faces greeted her.

“This is Elizabeth.” William indicated a haughty blonde, sitting straight-backed on a velvet chaise longue.

Caitlin felt at once intimidated and envious. She couldn’t believe Elizabeth was only seventeen, just two years older than she was. She looked so
sophisticated
. Even in her tennis outfit, following a grueling afternoon on the court, she looked immaculate, not a hair out of place. Caitlin suddenly felt ashamed of her own slightly shabby appearance, her hand instinctively reaching up to smooth down her unruly thick locks.

“Hi, Elizabeth.” She gave a tentative smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Elizabeth smiled coolly up at her. “So nice to meet you, too.” There was the faintest hint of sarcasm in the clipped upper-class tone.

Caitlin’s smile wavered. Elizabeth made no move to say anything else. She continued to stare up from her seat, flicking her long, fair hair back in a dismissive gesture.

Amber was another matter altogether. While Elizabeth seemed hostile, Amber clearly had no interest in the new arrival. As soon as she’d said hello, she asked to be excused.

Isabelle shot an apologetic look at Caitlin. “No, of course you can’t go yet,” she said, clearly embarrassed. “Caitlin’s only just gotten here.”

Amber scowled in answer. Caitlin couldn’t believe it. Mam would never have allowed her to be so rude at that age. But then Amber was like no eleven-year-old she’d ever met. She was a beautiful little girl, her porcelain skin and pretty white blonde ringlets making her seem almost cherubic. But her natural beauty had been spoiled by the way she’d been done up—to look like an adult. Her off-the-shoulder sundress looked out of place on her prepubescent body, as did the hot pink lipstick and blue eye shadow. The whole effect was grotesque and unsettling.

There was a long silence. Caitlin studied the floor. William looked at all three girls in turn, frowning as though he couldn’t quite understand why they weren’t bonding immediately. It was Isabelle who jumped in to cover the awkwardness.

“Why don’t I pour everyone some tea? Caitlin, you must be hungry after your journey. Can I get the cook to fix you a snack?”

Caitlin, who had lost her appetite during the uncomfortable introductions, said she really wasn’t hungry but did accept a cup of tea in a ridiculously fragile cup. As she sipped it carefully, terrified she might spill something on the expensive-looking rug, she wondered if this was going to get any easier.

It didn’t. Caitlin couldn’t help feeling relieved when, half an hour later, William finally suggested she go to her room to unpack.

“That will give you a chance to settle in before dinner,” he said. His gaze landed on Elizabeth, who was already on her feet. “Why don’t you show your sister to her room? She’s going to be in the Rose Suite. And perhaps you could give her a quick tour of the estate as well, so she can get her bearings.”

For a horrible moment, Caitlin thought that Elizabeth was going to object—but a look from William silenced her.

“Fine.” Sharp green eyes flicked onto Caitlin. “Well? Are you coming?”

Caitlin had to run to keep up with Elizabeth, as the older girl hurried her along another maze of corridors and then up two flights of stairs. These were a different set from the sweeping staircase in the hallway. Steep and covered in a dark blue carpet—“the staff staircase,” Elizabeth explained briefly. We’re only using it because it’s the quickest way to the East Wing, where your room is.” Other than that, she didn’t venture any small talk along the way.

They finally reached a cream door. Elizabeth stopped outside and handed Caitlin the key. It was almost like being in a hotel.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted, so why don’t we skip the tour?” She didn’t give Caitlin a chance to reply. “Dinner’s at seven-thirty. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t be late. It’s the one thing that pisses Daddy off.”

She turned away, with a toss of glorious honey hair, leaving Caitlin standing alone in the hallway.

As Caitlin watched her go, tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t thought she could feel any worse than she had these past few months.
But being treated like that, with such utter disdain, made it all so much worse. In that moment, she’d never wanted her mother more.

Shoulders hunched, she unlocked the door to her new room. It was beautiful, of course—huge and luxurious. But Caitlin had no interest in the antique furniture or the breathtaking view across the gardens and parklands. Instead, she went to lie down on the four-poster bed, curled up into a ball, and cried.

“She’s
so
weird.”