Chapter 1: A Safe Haven

March 1825

“It can’t be far anymore,” Ellen Trilby sighed, more to herself than to her companion, the old shepherdess Mildred, who was following her in the shepherd cart.

In the village behind them, a tenant farmer had given her directions to High Matcham, the manor house, where the Carter family lived and where young Ellen hoped to find shelter.

Two months ago, she had run from her home and from her stepfather. He had not been a bad stepfather, but ever since her poor mother had died, eight months ago, he had given in to drink and gambling. Now he was owing over £200 to his gambling cronies. One of them, Eliezer Crowly, had offered to pay for the entire debt if Ellen became his bride — a revolting thought for young Ellen, for Crowley was approaching sixty years, was as ugly as the sin and made her skin crawl with his lewd gaze.

She had fled her home at night, whilst her stepfather was sleeping off his fresh drunk. She left the only home she’d ever known with two dresses, her good woollen cloak, her sturdy boots, and a few mementos from her mother that had not yet been pawned by her stepfather. She’d also taken what little money she’d been able to hide from her stepfather; £1.16s .4d was all she owned in this world.

She remembered from the tales her mother had told her that Lady Carter had been her friend when she was a young woman and that she was married to Sir Anthony Carter, a Navy captain and a wealthy man. They lived in a beautiful manor house, called High Matcham, near Maidenhead in Berkshire.

She’d been able to beg a ride on a merchant’s mule wagon for two days, telling the man that she wanted to visit her ailing uncle in Peterborough. She could not find further transport from there and continued her journey on foot, staying at small wayside inns for the nights until, after three days, she overheard a haughty sounding man ask the landlord for a run bride, blonde, pretty, and heading south. She barely escaped through the rear door of the inn and hid in a nearby copse for a full day.

She had a lucky break then, for in the next morning, she espied a flock of sheep grazing nearby, tended by an old shepherdess. The woman even had a small donkey cart, and when Ellen approached her, she agreed to take the girl along if she helped with the sheep. The shepherdess, Mildred — Ellen never learned her family name — was quite frail and had some problems herding the sheep, and Ellen had to learn shepherding quickly, to keep the flock going.

She had to be patient, too, for the sheep moved at their own pace and not always in Ellen’s desired direction, but now, after two months, they were close to Ellen’s destination. Mildred had gotten frailer with every day, and Ellen knew that she could not simply say good bye and leave the old woman behind, even if the Carters took her in as she hoped.

Now, Ellen could see a large manor house ahead, and she turned to her benefactor.

“There it is! We made it.”

“That’s good, child. Let’s hope them’ll be nice to you an’ take you in. Ask them if’n I’m allowed to graze my sheep for a week.”

“I shall, Mildred, never worry. The Thames river is near, and the banks should offer ample grazing.”

“Your words to God’s ears, child! You better dress in that fancy dress o’yours an’ that fine cloak. Then run. The weather’s mucked up, an’ you’ll be drenched in no time.”

That was true. The drizzle that had accompanied them all morning was turning into a sleet rain. Ellen climbed into the cart from the rear and found her small bundle of possessions. Taking off the coarse tarpaulin, she slipped out of her second best dress and shivered in the cold. With infinite care, she put on her better dress and then did her best to untangle her long blonde hair and to tie it back into a braid. Then she shook out the good woollen cloak under which she had slept for two months and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Mildred!”

“Good luck, child!” the shepherdess answered, coughing a little.

Ellen set out for the final quarter mile when suddenly she heard hoofbeat behind her. She turned and saw a young man on horseback, well dressed and handsome, if a bit bedraggled from the rain.

“Who are you and what’s the meaning of those sheep on our lands?” he demanded.

“My name is Ellen Trilby, Sir. I am the daughter of Major John Trilby and his wife Siobhan. They are both dead, but my mother used to befriend the Lady Carter, and I had hoped that perhaps she might be willing to give me some help, Sir.”

The young man was clearly surprised over her cultivated speech, but he regarded her with little goodwill.

“You are looking for handouts?”

She lowered her head, blushing intensely with the shame she felt. “My mother always spoke of Lady Carter as a kindhearted woman, and she mentioned Sir Anthony as a fine gentleman who had helped her family and my late uncle. He was a lieutenant under Sir Anthony. I never met him — he perished at sea — but I have nobody else whom I could ask for help.”

She looked up at him with pleading eyes, using her own good looks, and she could see him moved.

“Come along then, girl ... Miss Trilby. I shall ask my mother.”

“Thank you, Sir! Might I ask your name?”

“I am Richard Carter, Sir Anthony’s son. Come along, Miss Trilby!” Clearly, he at first planned to let her walk beside him whilst he rode his horse, but then he reconsidered. “Can you ride?”

“It’s been years since I rode a horse. Please, don’t mind me. I am used to walking by now.”

He sighed. “That won’t do. If my father saw me ride my horse with you walking, I would be in for a lengthy sermon about gentlemanly behaviour. Let us both walk then, Miss Trilby.”

They covered the remaining distance in short time. Once they entered the courtyard, a groom rushed to take care of Mister Carter’s mount whilst he led her up the steps to the entrance of the manor house.

As soon as they entered, two maids came rushing and took care of his wet riding cloak, hat and riding crop.

“This is Miss Ellen Trilby. See her to the visitor’s room! Get her a cup of tea, too. I must speak to Lady Carter.”

It felt so strange to Ellen when a maid took her coat and curtseyed.

“Thank you,” Ellen said in her friendliest voice. “Might I ask if you can find a hairbrush for me? I must look dreadful after my travels.”

The girl curtseyed and ran away, returning with a hairbrush only moments later. “May I, Miss?”

Without waiting for an answer, the maid opened Ellen’s braid and brushed out her damp hair as best she could. Then she tied back Ellen’s bangs, leving the rest of her long hair open for better drying. A look in the big mirror in the entrance hall showed Ellen that her hair looked fetching that way.

“Thank you,” she told the girl who smiled shyly before leading her to a cozy sitting room by the entrance. Ellen had barely sat down on an upholstered chair when another maid came in with a steaming cup of tea, with sugar and milk. “Thank you,” Ellen repeated.

The hot tea was heavenly after a morning spent in drizzling rain, but soon she heard approaching steps and the door opened to reveal a beautiful redheaded lady of middling age. Ellen rose hastily and curtseyed.

“Miss Trilby?” the woman asked in a friendly voice.

“Yes, milady! I am the daughter of Major John Trilby and of Siobhan Trilby, née O’Shaunessy. I cannot remember my father, but my mother often told me of you and of your travels in Ireland and how you helped my late uncle.”

“Why did you come to High Matcham?”

“I had to flee from home, milady. My mother died eight months ago, and my stepfather, Major Meadows, took to drink and gambling in his sorrow. He lost everything, and I was the last pawn he could use for bartering. I was supposed to be married to his main creditor, Mr. Eliezer Crowly, in return for having the debt forgiven. I took what possessions had been left and ran away, for I fear and despise that man.”

“Have you any relatives save for that stepfather?”

“No, milady. I was hoping...”

“Yes?”

“I thought that you might have use for a companion or that you may know of somebody who does. I can also be a teacher’s helper.”

“How old are you, my child?”

“Seventeen years, milady.”

Lady Carter’s mouth twitched. “And how long since you had your last bath?”

“T-two months, milady,” Ellen answered with a blush. “My stepfather or Mr. Crowly had sent somebody to search for me, and I didn’t dare to sleep in taverns for fear of being found. A shepherdess, Mildred, let me travel with her. I slept in her shepherd’s cart with her and had to herd the sheep during the days.”

“Oh, dear, you are determined, aren’t you? Whence are you coming?”

“From King’s Lynn. It’s north-east of Peterborough, milady.”

“Oh, dear! And you walked all the way?”

“I had no choice, milady,” Ellen answered simply.

“I believe you hadn’t. Have you any proof of being Siobhan’s daughter?”