Through the relentless curtain of rain, it was hard to make out the delicate figure of a woman. Her umbrella offered little protection against the biting wind, and she struggled to avoid puddles coated with a thin layer of ice. Finally, she darted onto the porch of a house, took shelter under the overhang, and knocked on the door. Water streamed from her hat, her boots were soaked through, and the hem of her dress was splattered with mud up to her knees.
“Oh, ma’am…” The maid was clearly startled and flustered.
“I know, Nancy, I’m barely recognizable right now, but I’ve landed in a real mess! I hope my things have arrived?”
“Yes, ma’am, but they’re still in the front hall…”
“Fine, then have someone bring the trunk upstairs. I need to change before I catch pneumonia!”
She handed her cloak to the maid and, leaving wet footprints behind, headed up the stairs.
How good it felt to be back here! The room had clearly been tidied and even decorated with flowers, which meant her father had been expecting her, though perhaps not entirely thrilled about her return. Arabella quickly tossed off her hat and peeled off her gloves. The wet dress clung stubbornly to her, and she wrestled with the buttons and laces for what felt like forever. At last, she stood in just her undergarments, pulling out the pins to let her damp hair fall free. Standing with her back to the door, she didn’t notice it creak open or the tall, lanky young man who froze in the doorway.
His gray eyes caught the most captivating sight: long, slender legs in sheer stockings, the enticing curves of a woman’s body, and dark curls brushing against skin as delicate as porcelain. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, torn between admiration and burning shame. What was he doing, acting like some schoolboy peeping at a woman in her own room? A floorboard creaked under his weight, and an involuntary sigh escaped his lips, betraying his presence.
“Thanks, Nancy,” the woman said without turning around. “Just set the trunk by the bed! I’m freezing…”
When no one responded, Arabella lowered the comb in her hand and glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with the uninvited guest.
“Sorry, I should’ve knocked…” The young man quickly turned away.
He couldn’t come up with a better excuse, but his embarrassed, guilty expression spoke volumes.
“No, I’m the one who should apologize. I’ve shown up out of nowhere. You must be Lawrence?” She disappeared behind the wardrobe door and hurriedly threw on a robe. The young man half-turned his head and nodded, though he remained awkwardly silent. “I’m Robbie. I hope my name isn’t taboo in this house yet, and that Father’s mentioned me at least once?”
“Of course, but…” Just then, Nancy appeared in the hallway with the luggage, and Lawrence had no choice but to step aside to let her pass. Whatever “but” had led him to the young woman’s bedroom went unexplained.
“Alright, if you don’t mind, let’s catch up a bit later!” The guest rubbed her hands together, trying to warm up.
Good thing no one else was home! Arabella knew her father had remarried a woman with two children, but this wasn’t exactly the ideal way to meet a stepbrother. Even Nancy looked scandalized as she slammed the door shut behind Lawrence.
“Shall I help you get dressed, or should I have some wine warmed up first?”
“Dressed!” Robbie shivered, feeling goosebumps all over. She flipped open the trunk and grabbed the first dress she saw. Anything warm and dry would do! As Nancy tightened the laces, Robbie mused aloud. “I’m starting to regret dragging all this stuff with me and not thinking about the weather. That’s what five years abroad does to you! I’d almost forgotten what sleet feels like. But I didn’t forget about you, and I brought something I think you’ll love!”
“What did I do to deserve a gift?” The maid froze, taken aback by the unexpected attention.
“Just by being here and sticking around in this house. Without you, I’d feel completely alone. I doubt I’m in for warm hugs and family coziness.”
Robbie dove back into the trunk, pulled out a shawl, and draped it over Nancy’s shoulders. The fabric was soft to the touch and instantly warmed the maid’s thin frame.
“There! Now no cold can touch you. It’s real cashmere!”
“Oh, ma’am, I don’t know how to thank you!”
“Don’t mention it! It’s the least I can do. And by the way, let’s keep today’s little incident between us, okay? I mean with Lawrence… Promise me, or I’ll have zero chance of making a good impression! Or do you think that’s impossible anyway?”
Nancy pursed her lips. She’d have loved to say what she really thought, but for Arabella’s sake, she tried to be fair. She clearly didn’t care for the stepmother, though she acknowledged the woman’s sharpness. As for the stepsister, Mary, there wasn’t much to say except that she loved jewelry, was learning to play the piano, and was engaged to some wealthy man.
“Well, you’ve seen Mr. Lawrence for yourself,” Nancy grumbled. “He’s as handsome as he is useless at life! A constant headache for your father!”
Nancy had a different opinion of Arabella, despite speaking to a divorced woman. The news of Robbie running away from her husband and ending the marriage had been whispered about, but how could something like that stay hidden? Robbie felt grateful that at least someone was on her side, because expecting support from anyone else would be a miracle! A divorcee. An unfaithful wife. A disgrace to a respectable family and a blow to their reputation! Robbie had no doubt that’s how she’d be seen, but she wasn’t about to lock herself in her room or join a convent.
Once dressed, she gave herself a critical once-over in the mirror and headed to the living room to finally talk with her brother. The rain pounded against the windows, and Nancy had already lit a lamp, making the room feel especially cozy. Lawrence wasn’t there, or at least Robbie didn’t spot him right away. The young man was engrossed in a book—or maybe just flipping through the pages—and in the flickering light, he somehow reminded her of Lord Byron. The same pale, thoughtful face with refined features, and long, slender fingers brushing against the book. The only difference, which quickly shattered the illusion, was the open smile that greeted her arrival.
“Now I look decent enough to say hello properly!” Arabella extended her hand, and her stepbrother shook it with evident pleasure. “I’m not interrupting, am I? Looks like you were reading something serious…”
“First time I’ve gotten a compliment like that! Too bad no one else is around to hear it. Turns out I can be considered a serious person!” His smile was so genuine that it made his handsome face even more appealing.
“Father’s still not back?”
“He’s off on some business, and the ladies are out shopping. We weren’t expecting you this morning…” He hesitated, a bit embarrassed. “Is it okay if I call you ‘you,’ or should I stick to ‘Mrs. Morgan’?”
“Heaven forbid! I’d rather have nothing to do with that name! I should’ve sent a telegram, but something unexpected happened at the station, and it slipped my mind. I found this unusual thing…” Robbie trailed off mid-sentence.
Maybe it was just her imagination running wild, but that girl from the train wouldn’t leave her thoughts. She seemed like a character from a gothic novel—fragile, dressed all in black, and silent. And then there was the antique ring, impossible to miss: a lock of dark hair tucked into a heart-shaped locket. How could someone lose something so precious?
Lawrence was clearly intrigued and looked at his sister expectantly, but Arabella just shrugged, brushing the memory aside. The last thing she wanted was to come off as a superstitious woman who’d read too many ghost stories.
“I’ll tell you about it another time. We’ve got plenty of that ahead, right? You’re not heading back to university before Christmas, are you?”
“Nope, I’m afraid I flunked my exams. I’m no lawyer, much to Mother’s disappointment, so she’s coming at me from a different angle now.”
“Let me guess, Father’s roped you into the family business?”
Her smile turned playful. She liked Larry; she felt like she’d found a kindred spirit, another rebel who didn’t want to live by the rules.
“Exactly. But business isn’t for me! I’d choose painting if I had the money,” the young man said, shoving his hands into his pockets and pacing the room. “But I’ve got to think about practical stuff like owning a home and supporting a family, since I’m constantly reminded it’s time to settle down.”
“So, these are your paintings?” Arabella approached the wall adorned with several stunning reproductions. “You’ve got real talent! If you took it seriously, you’d have clients lining up! You could, say, hold an exhibition. That’s money too!”
Lawrence couldn’t help but laugh at the compliment.
“You really think so?”
“Why not? Trust me, I’m not much like Father, and I doubt I share all his views! You don’t have to buy hotels and stores to make your mark!” Robbie stood beside him, tilting her head to study one of the paintings. The girl in it resembled Lawrence, but lacked his effortless, natural charm. “Is this a portrait of your sister?”
The emerald earrings adorning the young lady looked familiar, and a pang tightened Robbie’s chest. Her late mother’s jewelry—could Mr. Pierce really have given them to his stepdaughter? That was too much, even for a happy second marriage. To get a better look, Robbie stepped back and bumped into Lawrence. He caught her, steadying her by the shoulders, and felt an unfamiliar warmth flood his chest. It was incredible how they could talk like this—as if they’d known each other forever, or truly grown up in the same house. For the first time, he’d met a woman who shared his passions without trying to seduce or lecture him.
Lawrence could’ve spent the rest of the day with his stepsister, but, as luck would have it, the doorbell rang in the front hall. The lady of the house had returned, and an unforgettable introduction awaited.
Mrs. Pierce’s arrival was preceded by Mary’s voice, still arguing with her mother.
“Mom, I’m sick of these lessons. I don’t want to waste any more time on them! And don’t tell me my future depends on it. Mr. Rockshield doesn’t know a thing about music!”
“Maybe not, but you’ll be at receptions with his inner circle. Good looks aren’t everything! Someone will snatch him right out from under your nose, and you’ll have no one to blame!”
“Fine, if that’s what you want, next time I’ll play scales for the guests. I’m pretty good at those!”
She burst into the living room, pulling off her hat as she went. Her cheeks were still flushed with irritation, her expression sour, but it quickly morphed into shock, robbing her of any eloquence.
“You’ve made quite the entrance!” Lawrence couldn’t hold back a laugh as he glanced at Robbie. “Allow me to introduce my invaluable sister, Mary! Mary, this is Mrs. Morgan. I’m not sure if she’ll let such a carefree soul call her by her first name!”
“Lawrence, stop it!” Arabella stepped closer to her stepsister. “I’m so glad to meet you! Don’t mind him. I hated piano lessons too! I heard you were out shopping—anything interesting happen?”
Mary was completely thrown off by such a warm greeting. She blinked her long lashes, unsure of what to say, until she finally overcame her initial surprise.
“Yeah, a little. We didn’t think you’d arrive today! I mean, Mr. Pierce mentioned…” She blushed, struggling to keep the conversation going.
The situation grew increasingly awkward, but it was saved by the arrival of her stepmother. Unlike her daughter, Mrs. Pierce had perfect control over herself. If she was displeased or surprised, she didn’t let it show. After a few obligatory pleasantries and greetings, the family took their seats in the room, looking as if they’d known each other for years.
“So, you’ve come from Amiens? Was the journey too difficult? I hear customs checks nearly every station these days.”
“I can’t say anything bad about it!” Robbie tried to be polite. “It’s like I’ve gone back ten years. Nothing’s changed in town.”
“Are you disappointed? That’s not surprising. Ending up in the sticks… I can’t imagine what you’ll do here. St. Lyds is a small town where everyone’s business is out in the open!”
She paused, a pause that could only mean one thing: “Don’t expect to live off your father!” Arabella had braced herself for this, but it still stung. She wasn’t about to let her stepmother make any more assumptions.
“Actually, I already have a job. You don’t need to worry about me!”
“Really?!” Mrs. Pierce’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know you still had useful connections.”
Mary’s gaze darted between her mother and sister, saying nothing, while Lawrence leaned in, eager to hear the truth.
“No, I don’t have many acquaintances in town. But I work as a translator. I’m collaborating with an author who writes detective stories. He’s very popular in France, so he’s decided to publish a few books in English. Maybe you’ve heard of him—his name’s fairly well-known—Marshal Dupont?”
“A French writer?” It seemed few things could shock Mrs. Pierce this much. “No, dear, I doubt you’ll find any of those so-called detective stories in our bookshelf. Is that really suitable reading for a proper lady?”
“But Mom,” Mary interjected unexpectedly, “you read the crime section in the papers every day. Isn’t that the same thing?”
Lawrence burst out laughing. For the second time today, his sister had lifted his spirits and eased the tension hanging over the living room like a dark cloud.
“Honestly, books like these sharpen your intuition and entertain just as well as romance novels. At least with Monsieur Dupont, that’s the case! I haven’t come across any gory murders in his stories, so no lady will be harmed by reading them.”
“I hope so,” her stepmother said through gritted teeth, “and that you’re paid well enough for such work.”
“Mom, aren’t you ashamed?” Lawrence couldn’t stay quiet. “It seems Arabella came to see her own father, so why not find another topic besides money, as if she’s already in debt?”
“And you, my dear, could stand to think about money once in a while. Forgive me, Arabella, I’m a bit tired, so we’ll meet again at dinner! By then, Mr. Pierce will be back, and I’m sure he’ll be delighted!”
So, Robbie was essentially being dismissed from the living room. She caught the subtle hint and immediately stood to return to her room. First impressions were a flop—that was certainly true of meeting her father’s wife—but there was no point dwelling on it. What did surprise her was Mary, who offered to walk her back to her room.
“I hope you’re not upset,” she said quietly on the stairs, glancing over her shoulder. “Mom sticks to old-fashioned rules. I think she wants the best for me and Lawrence, but…”
“You’re stuck with music lessons, and he’s buried in financial reports,” Robbie smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not holding any grudges. And you know what? Let’s stop by my room—I’ve got something to show you!”
Arabella pushed open the bedroom door. Nancy had already tidied up: the clothes were put away in the wardrobe, scattered items cleared, and the bed remade. The only spot still in chaos was the desk, cluttered with a typewriter and a manuscript.
“Oh, so you know how to type?” Mary’s eyes widened as if she’d seen something extraordinary.
“Of course. You don’t think I handwrite all these stacks of paper, do you? I’d be up until dawn every day. Anyway, it’s not that hard, and right now, I’d rather not talk about myself. Nancy hinted at something—are you engaged?”
Mary blushed with delight but had to tell the truth.
“Not yet, but everyone’s hoping it’ll happen soon.”
“And who’s the guy? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m genuinely curious. It’s a big decision…”
“Why not? I’d love to,” Mary said, idly rearranging trinkets on the table. “It’s about Mr. Rockshield. He’s well-off, young, handsome. They say he’s got great prospects. We’ve known each other for about six months, but lately, he’s been visiting almost every day.”
“I’m so happy for you! And here—this is perfume from François Coty himself. You don’t mind a little gift, do you?”
“No… but this must cost a fortune!” The girl carefully opened the bottle and caught a sweet, delicate scent.
“You’re exaggerating! And besides, I read that this perfume is made especially for young women. They say there’s real gold in it, which is a bit much for me!”
Mary nearly jumped to the ceiling.
“Do you think Richard… I mean, Mr. Rockshield, will like it?”
Robbie nodded and gave her sister a warm smile.
“No doubt about it! I just came from France, and I know exactly what men want!”