The Lady in Yellow

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  The Lady in Yellow

  by

  Alyne de Winter

  The Lady in Yellow

  © 2011 by Alyne de Winter

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

  Cover Image: Lillie Langtry by Edward Poynter

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN Enter number here

  For news, updates and more information at: www.alynedewinter.com

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  I hope you enjoy this e-book of Victorian Gothic Romance.

  When young Veronica Everly takes a position as governess to a pair of identical twins, she did not expect them to be a family of werewolves, or to fall in love with her handsome employer, Rafe de Grimston. She is faced with an agonizing choice when Rafe makes her promise to redeem them all.

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  Table of Contents

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 1

  The spindly agent stood behind his shining Chippendale desk reading Veronica's reference letter. The stack of papers neatly squared on his blotter was much higher than the mere covering letter and two references she had sent him. Veronica shifted her gaze to the classical sculptures, the enormous paintings, the imposing floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He'd said he had the perfect position for her: governess to a pair of twins. The bonnet ribbon tied at her throat felt much too tight. When the agent cleared his throat, so did her smile.

  "Miss Everly?"

  "Yes, Sir?"

  The agent leveled an assessing gaze at Veronica through a pince nez perched on the end of his long, elevated nose. She straightened her shoulders, grateful for the support of her stays, and tucked the scuffed toes of her shoes under her hem.

  He set the letter down on top of the stack of papers, squared them, and tapped them with the tip of his boney finger. Then he picked it up again and, pacing away from the desk, perused the missive one more time. He sighed as if he carried a great weight.

  “You must understand, the twins are a bit difficult. Am I correct in seeing in your covering letter that you have had experience with a mad child?”

  "Yes. By God’s grace I was able to help her to live an almost normal life. Sequestered but normal.”

  He sniffed, nodded.

  “The twins are merely unusual. They are identical. White enough to be albinos, but their eyes are pale green. They are also, well, androgynous. Have you ever met a person about whom is was impossible to tell whether they were male or female? That is the case with the twins. So the family decided to name them one for a girl and one for a boy. The boy is called Jacques, and the girl is Jacqueline.”

  “Are they French?”

  “On their mother’s side. They actually own a chateau in the Auvergne but Mr. de Grimston spends all of his time trying to sell it. The family fortune is in a terrible shambles since the tragic loss of his wife. She had all the money, you see.”

  “So, I shall not see much of him.”

  “Indeed. Mr. de Grimston is rarely at home. This position requires a great deal of responsibility and endurance, Miss Everly. You will have to make many decisions on your own.”

  The agent looked Veronica up and down, squinted as if he were scrutinizing her for cracks. Veronica rearranged the folds of her skirt, smoothed them down, then re-folded her gloved hands in her lap.

  The agent raised his eyebrows and went on.

  “Mrs. de Grimston was a very elegant, very beautiful woman. Her children adored her and have refused to accept a governess in her place. But you, Miss Everly, pretty as you are….. Forgive me, but why would such an attractive girl as you are choose to work when you could have your pick of gentlemen?”

  “Well, Sir, my parents are dead so I must support myself. And I do thoroughly enjoy teaching. I got used to all types of children growing up at Saint Mary’s.”

  “Are you a religious girl, Miss Everly?’

  “But of course. Saint Mary’s is a religious institution. We attended Mass every day, though I'm afraid I am not as conscientious about it as I used to be.”

  Frowning and biting his lip, the agent flipped through Veronica’s paperwork, scrutinizing it again. Then he looked up at her.

  “Very well then.” He sighed. “Though you are young….What is it? Twenty-one? Your references are impeccable. Especially the report of your success with the mad child. I will give you the position. Just be aware that the journey to Belden House takes three days and nights by train. You will be far from all you know, and those who know you.”

  “I’m sure I shall make new friends,” Veronica said brightly. “I am so looking forward to this.”

  The contract signed, Veronica’s curiosity got the better of her.

  “May I ask, Sir, what happened to Mrs. de Grimston?”

  The agent cleared his throat. “That is a mystery Miss Everly. No one knows for sure.”

  ****

  It was a very long journey to Belden House. Veronica felt as if she was travelling to some far off country. Who would have thought the land could be so empty, that she could feel so alone? As the train carried her between meadows and rolling, green hills, the sky darkened, and she began to wonder if she’d made a mistake choosing to accept the job at Belden House. A tall, brooding mansion came to mind, poised on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. A lonely, sinister place like the one in the novel she was reading.

  It was dawn when Veronica arrived at her stop. She was grateful to find the chauffeur of a large black carriage with the de Grimston crest on the door, waiting for her. The drive seemed to go on forever across fields of wild flowers and then the woods where the heavy leaf-cover made it almost as dark as night. They emerged into broad daylight on the grounds of a stately home. The sunlight glinted on the many faceted windows so that the whole graceful façade sparkled. There was a wide lawn with trees sloping down to a lake. At least three walled gardens. The only flaw was a rather grim looking tower sticking up at the back that seemed like an intruder from a distant time.

  Two cheerful maids came out onto the steps followed by a cook, a butler, a groom, two working boys, and a tall, auburn-haired lady in widow’s weeds whose face visibly brightened at the sight of Veronica.

  “Good afternoon.” She grasped Veronica’s hand. “I’m the housekeeper, Mrs. Twig. We shall see quite a lot of each other.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Twig,” Veronica said. “I’m Veronica Everly. My, this is a beautiful house.”

  “Yes. The newest bits are Georgian. The tower at the back is tenth century I believe.”

  “Oh my. That’s very old, isn’t it? Is it possible to meet the children right away?”

  “Of course. Come this way, please.”

  Mrs. Twig led Veronica through the elegant high-ceilinged rooms, all so light and airy, and tastefully done. At the back of the house was a large open garden, including a stand of white birches. Two white-haired children of about eight years old were hanging a doll over a wishing well at the base of a mossy hummock shrouded in white lilies. They were singing an old folksong in soft, light voices.

  Green grow the lilies oh, bright among the bushes oh...

  Mrs. Twig called to them.

  “Jack! Come along and meet Miss Everly.”

  Both children looked up. Veronica’s scalp tingled at the eerie duplication of
their faces and the intense gaze of their pale green eyes.

  “Hello, children!” Veronica waved at them as they walked slowly towards her.

  They both wore white, one a simple frock and the other trousers and a shirt. Their skin was glowing and slightly tanned, setting off their chin-length white hair and pale eyes like photographic negatives. Veronica had never seen identical twins before, but she’d heard a superstitious belief that they were magical. In that moment she was sure that superstition was founded on truth.

  “Are you our new governess?” the one in trousers asked.

  “Yes. I’m Miss Everly. And you’re Jacques aren’t you?”

  “Yes. And this is my other half, Jacqueline. Together we are called Jack.”

  “Well, Jack. I’m happy to meet you both. I think we shall be very good friends.”

  “She looks like a deer,” said Jacques to Jacqueline. “A pretty doe.”

  The children smiled in a sudden, shy way. When the sun broke through the clouds, they seemed to vanish in its rays.

  ****

  Tea was in a lovely nook that looked out on the garden. A vase of roses, lilies and ferns graced the table, sunlight sparkled on the silverware.

  “Mrs. Twig, the children are delightful. I wonder why they have a reputation for being difficult,” said Veronica as she dropped sugar into her tea.

  “They aren’t bad children. They’re just different. All the other governesses complained that they were secretive. Elusive,” Mrs. Twig said. Veronica noticed a slight resistance in her voice.

  “Elusive?”

  “Yes. They disappear sometimes. No one can find them.”

  “Like they did in the garden just now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the sunlight. Didn’t you see them vanish in the sunlight?”

  “No…. It must have been an optical effect of some kind. Your eyes are playing tricks on you, Miss Everly. I mean, they hide.”

  “Where?”

  Mrs. Twig sipped her tea.

  “They always come home. Safe and sound,” she said.

  ****

  Veronica made sure the children were in their rooms that night. Their rooms were directly across the hall from each other and looked so alike in their brocade pallor that, standing in one and looking through the doorway at the other, she had the brief sensation that she was looking into a mirror in which her reflection did not appear. Unsettled by the effect, Veronica pulled the twins into her room and had them sit on the sofa by the fire while she took her place in the cozy wing chair. A large blue book of fairy tales lay on the table beside her.

  “Sometimes, we swap rooms,” said Jacques. He was wearing white pajamas.

  “Just like we swap clothes,” said Jacqueline in her white nightgown.

  “Then how can anyone tell you apart?” Veronica asked.

  “They can’t!” They both fell over with laughter.

  “Well, as long as you’re both here. There are two of you. Of that I am sure.” Veronica was determined not to be disturbed by anything they said or did. They were just children after all. “What is your favorite fairy tale, Jacqueline?”

  “Oh, Little Red Riding Hood,” she said.

  “Mine as well,” said Jacques. “Though I prefer the true version.”

  “And what is that?” asked Veronica.

  “The one where Grandma is a werewolf.”

  Veronica read them the version she had in which, to their delight, the woodcutter had to cut Red Riding Hood out of Grandma Wolf’s stomach. Soon the twins were asleep. One by one she carried them to their beds and tucked them in. She gazed down at their pale heads on each of their pillows, the white eyelashes just grazing their cheeks, the straight, narrow noses, the beautiful mouths.

  “Neither male nor female, they are spirits of pure light. Dreams from the mind of God,” she whispered.

  She smiled with contentment and went to her room. The French windows were open to the night, inviting her to step out onto the balcony. Stars streamed across the sky. The moon was just edging towards fullness. She leaned over the railing and inhaled the fragrances of grass, trees, and the late summer roses blooming just below. Frogs sang from the wishing well. Everything was lovely and cozy and just right.

  Veronica was about to go in when she was startled by a movement over the lawn just below. A young lady with long pale hair stepped out of the shadow of the house into the moonlight. She slowly turned to look back with eyes so tragic they took Veronica’s breath away. In a plain white dress with a long, twisting train and a peaked hat that appeared to be made of white bark, she seemed like creature from a dream. A bell began to toll, slow and out of tune. The lady let out a terrible wail, and was blown backwards as if carried by the wind, but there was no wind. In a moment she was gone.

  CHAPTER 2

  *

  “Mrs. Twig, was there a visitor last night? A lady in a white dress?” Veronica asked. Her china teacup rattled slightly on the saucer. She wanted an answer before the twins came downstairs for breakfast.

  Mrs. Twig was ticking off items on her to-do list. She looked startled by Veronica’s question.

  Veronica went on. “She came out into the garden. I don’t remember anyone arriving. Was it a friend of yours?”

  “No. It’s just someone who knows Mr. Rafe.”

  “What does she want?”

  Mrs. Twig pressed her lips together and fell silent.

  Veronica walked to the windows. The twins were in the garden petting a large dog, a kind of Alsatian with long, white fur. When they looked up at her with their identical faces, and bright eyes, she fell in love.

  Veronica turned to Mrs. Twig. “Where did that dog come from? It is very beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you think so. It’s their guardian. Let me show you the classroom, Miss Everly. Come.”

  Veronica tore herself away from the sight of the enigmatic twins and followed Mrs. Twig up the stairs.

  On the third floor, they stopped at a door that seemed to have been closed forever. Mrs. Twig unlocked it and ushered Veronica into a cold, stale smelling classroom. There was a chalkboard, a teacher’s desk, and three students’ desks. A pair of bookshelves flanked a small cast-iron fireplace. The windows looked out on a dark hedge of lofty Irish yews.

  “It can be cozy with a fire,” said Mrs. Twig. “For some reason, the former governess had the carpet pulled up. Then she left. If you want, we can lay another.”

  “That would be lovely,” said Veronica. She quickly perused the textbooks. “These look quite good. I’ve brought some of my own as well.”

  “Why don’t I order the carpet while you get acquainted with the room. The children should be up in an hour. Shall I have your books brought up as well?”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.” Veronica said. “Oh, Mrs. Twig? Why are there three desks? Is there another child?”

  Mrs. Twig stopped short but did not turn around. “It’s just an extra desk.”

  The housekeeper hurried out of the room before Veronica could question her again.

  There wasn’t much to see. Veronica’s desk was quite barren of teaching supplies. A strange little notebook was in the side drawer that looked like it had been left by her predecessor. It didn’t feel right to open it. Veronica shut the drawer and looked out at the yews. About ten yards away, very tall and close-knit, they loomed up like a wall, casting the room into shadow.

  She shivered, went back out to the landing and looked down the stairs. The house was so quiet. Veronica found a hallway to the left. She followed it around a corner and came upon three doors; two facing one another across the hall, and one at the end. On instinct, she hurried to the end door and turned the knob. It opened. Her heart pounding, she trespassed into a most elegant sitting room she’d ever seen. An ornate marble fireplace, with two portraits above the mantel, dominated the far wall. Fine artwork, sculptures, potted trees, silken furniture of ivory, dark green, and gold spoke of wealth and status and education far
beyond her own, but also something uncivilized, if not wild.

  She spun around to see, through French doors on either side of the entrance, a pair of bedrooms that corresponded to the two doors that faced each other across the hallway.

  “This must be the Master Suite,” she said.

  She couldn't help admiring the feminine décor of Mrs. de Grimston’s bedroom with its damask canopied bed, mirrors, and tall windows. A wooden statue of Mary Magdalene with her perfume jar stood on the dressing table beside silver combs and brushes and bottles of scent. His bedroom was on the other side, all leather, raw silk, and wood, ornamented with the peculiar acquisitions of the world traveler.

  Vases of fresh lilies bloomed on every table. The rooms were kept in readiness, perhaps, for Mr. de Grimston’s return.

  Veronica sank down on the sofa and was instantly mesmerized by the two portraits above the fireplace. They were a matched pair. One was of a man, who must have been Rafe de Grimston, and the other of a lady, who was surely his wife, Sovay de Grimston. Veronica wasn’t exactly sure, but it seemed that Mrs. de Grimston looked very much like the lady she’d seen in the garden. Veronica had assumed that Mrs. de Grimston was dead, but perhaps that was not the case. She was a sylphlike creature. Her small, perfect features had the same eerie cast as the twins, but the green eyes, and blonde hair, were a shade darker, as if seen through smoked glass. Rafe de Grimston was handsome in a dusky, dark blonde sort of way. His eyes were large and blue, framed by thick eyebrows and lashes, the line of his jaw was exquisite. His whole aspect suggested physicality and strength.

  “I can’t wait to see him,” Veronica said to herself.

  She went through French doors into his bedroom. The door to the hallway was in a little arched chamber to her right with oil lamps on either side. The room felt foreign with its heavy silks and leather chairs. The dresser was glossy mahogany. A large mirror hung on the wall above it. The glass was very good. Veronica pulled a stray lock of her unruly chestnut hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. She rubbed her frown away. She was always doing that, wrinkling her brow, worrying. A piece of red raw silk went along the top of the dresser and, lying there as if they’d been casually cast aside, was a pistol, a box of bullets, and an invoice for a large amount of sheet silver at a price that made her gasp.