Free The Secret Woman by Victoria Holt Page A

said we should get Aunt Charlotte to bed at once. I was to make hot sweet tea for her because she was suffering from shock. He thought she had been lucky for no bones were broken.
    As I made the tea, Ellen said: “What a night this has been! Do you know, I reckon this could knock years off her life. A fall like that, at her age…”
    And I know that she was thinking of taking her legacy to Mr. Orfey.
    ***
    Life changed after that. It was the beginning of the disastrous period. Aunt Charlotte had injured her spine in the fall and this had aggravated her arthritis. There were days when she could not walk except to potter about the house and sometimes she could not even do that. She could not always go to sales; I had to go. I became a well known figure at them. At first I was treated with mild contempt; but this so angered me that I determined not to miss anything and I became more and more knowledgeable, so that they had to respect me. “She’s her aunt all over again,” it was said. And I was rather pleased because the only way in which I could bear to resemble Aunt Charlotte was in her knowledge.
    More than anything Aunt Charlotte had changed. I made excuses for her in the beginning. A woman with her energetic mind must find it tragic to be physically incapacitated. It was small wonder that she was irritable and bad tempered; she had never been convivial but now she seemed to hate us all. Continually she reminded me that I was responsible for her condition. It was her concern for me that had made her come to my bedroom; it was because she was so upset by my conduct that she had carelessly walked into the edge of that table and tripped. I had cost her her health and vigor; I owed it to her to repay her in any way I could.
    The household had never been gay; it now became grim and melancholy. She would sit propped up in her chair in her sitting room on her good days and go through the accounts. She never allowed me to see them; she herself did most of the buying. She would allow me no authority although my knowledge was growing and was not far behind her own.
    I began to experience once more that feeling that the Queen’s House was a prison; and just as in the old days I had dreamed of reunion with my mother as my means of escape, now I thought of that evening with Redvers and I told myself: He will come home from his voyage and when he does he will come to see me.
    The months passed and I heard nothing of him. The autumn was with us—the smell of dahlias and chrysanthemums in the garden; the damp mist was rising from the river and it was the anniversary of that evening and still I heard no news of him.
    Aunt Charlotte was getting more crippled, more irritable. Scarcely a day passed during which she did not remind me where my duty lay.
    I went on waiting and hoping that one day Redvers would seek me out, but he never did.
    It was Ellen who brought news to me. Her sister still worked for the Creditons. She had married the butler and had come up in the world. Lady Crediton was pleased with her and although she was not exactly a housekeeper, she was in charge of the maids which, being the butler’s wife, was very convenient.
    Ellen said to me one day when she was helping me to take some Ferrybridge pottery from one of the cabinets and pack it for a customer: “Miss Anna, I’ve been wondering whether to speak to you since yesterday morning.”
    I looked at her in some alarm; she was clearly distressed and I wondered whether Mr. Orfey had grown tired of waiting for her legacy and turned to someone else.
    â€œI went up to the Castle yesterday to see our Edith.”
    I avoided looking at her; I must handle the pottery very carefully. “Yes,” I said.
    â€œThere’s news of the Captain.”
    â€œThe Captain,” I repeated foolishly.
    â€œCaptain Stretton. Something awful’s happened.”
    â€œNot…dead?”
    â€œOh no, no…but some awful disgrace