The Wolves of Lilyfield

 

The Wolves of Lilyfield

How far will they go to protect the ones they love.

 

To protect their livelihood, servants conceal their master’s death.
Suspicious neighbors and an eccentric nephew endanger their secret.
At costume balls and country picnics, alliances will form and romances will begin.
Happiness and freedom are within their grasp
if they are willing to risk everything to protect their little kingdom.

 

BOOK ONE: WE SHALL BE MONSTERS
“It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world;
but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.”
― Frankenstein’s Monster, The Modern Prometheus, by Mary Shelley, 1818

 

(Some era terms and slang are simplified for easier reading)

 

Wolves of Lilyfield – Book 1 – Chapter 1 – The Ball

 

Becca fluffed up her dress from the long carriage ride, adjusted her mask, and absorbed the enormous mansion before them. It had elegant Roman-style stone pillars that reached for the sky. The setting sun was slowly disappearing behind the mansion and the glow from the towering windows made it seem as if the ominous structure was devouring the light. This would be the biggest building and the most distinguished gathering she had ever entered.

“I can barely believe this is happening,” Becca whispered as she tried to swallow her apprehension and follow William.

Muffled laughter and music made the radiant windows seem to flicker with excitement. She prayed that she wouldn’t faint from her gut-squeezing nervousness. The snug corset didn’t help. 

They stepped in line with other costumed guests heading up the wide stairs.

“Thank you for letting me share your family’s invitation.” Becca had already thanked William a few times, but she wanted to emphasize her appreciation. Then she had to shake off a bloody memory that threatened to spoil her evening. Once again, she assured herself that William was a good person, and so was she.

“I’m delighted that you finally agreed to join me.” His youthful smile beamed. “I would never come to something like this by myself.”

Becca repeatedly adjusted her posture, her smile, and even how she held her hands together, trying to emulate the relaxed yet sophisticated mannerisms of the other women in line. It was hard not to be intimidated by their poise and inexpensive costumes.

Although most ladies were in full costumes, Becca noticed a consistency in narrow waist sizes and how dresses hung loosely on the shoulders. Apparently, even in costumes, being fashionable was still a priority. Expensive-looking gloves and hand-held fans were popular. Becca hadn’t even considered such extras. She thought attaching different colored ribbons all over her dress and on her borrowed dance shoes was a festive idea; this was supposed to be a holiday ball, after all. Plus, she was able to strategically place the ribbons in a way that helped downplay her shapely figure. She hated anything that might elicit a lurid reaction from men. It reminded her of how people treated her promiscuous mother. But as Becca compared herself to other women heading to the ball, she feared all the ribbons just looked silly.

The French family throwing the ball was new to the area and was clearly trying to win favor with the community by inviting many people they did not know well. Becca hoped this meant she wouldn’t be inspected too closely. William’s paper wolf mask was surely acceptable, but she worried that her inexpensive ribbon-covered dress wouldn’t meet with approval and they’d be turned away. She also worried that somehow her lavender powder wasn’t strong enough. The smell of mopping floors, grimy dishes, and her associations with sordid people always seemed to follow her. Becca feared no amount of washing could completely chase away the stench of her past.

***

At the grand vestibule, William presented the invitation to the formal greeters. “We are invited guests.” It was just a general invitation to all the wealthy families in the area, but William couldn’t have been more proud to be there — with Becca as his lovely escort.

“Welcome,” the door footman said. With a quick inspection of the invitation, the footman motioned William and Becca into the bustling lobby.

Just as William had been told, there were no introduction announcements at a ball like this. Too bad. He wanted everything tonight to be special so Becca would feel like a real high society lady.

As he repositioned his wolf mask and moved into the main hallway, with Becca at his side, William’s senses were flooded with festive music, laughter, and a barrage of colorful costumes. The scent from burning bundles of mint in the fireplaces filled the gaps between all the strong aromas of perfumed women walking by. Angelic music seemed to fuel the glow of the room with its playful tempo. Being new to high society, he had never experienced anything like this.

“This is all so entirely splendid,” William announced with a bounce in his step. People often hinted that he looked young and frail, but he refused to be intimidated by such a grande event. He was a new man now. A man who gallantly vanquished enemies. He didn’t succumb to fear anymore — except maybe when it came to giant horses, angry bees, and ghosts. Of course he was still afraid of those things. Wasn’t everyone?

While most costumes were merely regular dinner suits and dress gowns decorated with a cape or an amusing hat or bonnet, everyone wore some type of mask. Most were merely solid colors, but some had elaborate feather headbands or mirror pieces in intricate mosaic patterns. A few even had long comical noses.

What a wonderful event, William thought, so glad he could share this new experience with Becca. Inviting her was a friendly gesture, but secretly he hoped she would see it as a romantic gift.

“This way.” William steered them through the crowd, making sure Becca was still following him when the passage grew too narrow to walk side-by-side.

***

“Everyone looks so… sophisticated,” Becca said, trying to not sound jealous. One lady’s dress was decorated with playing cards, but the cloth holding it all together was elegant. Another lady had a paper bird perched in her hair with colorful feathers draping a long cape that looked like it was made of fine silk. Many women wore elaborate hair wraps covered with exotic flowers. Becca only had her thick hair tied back with a large ribbon to match her dress and mask.

Fortunately, no one was paying her and William any real attention. Most people were either dancing, absorbed in jubilant conversations, or too busy looking for their friends and relatives.

Even with her senses overloaded, Becca kept a watchful eye for any tall male who might be Thomas. While keeping William company was the official reason for coming to the ball, she relished the idea of encountering Thomas one more time. She may not be Cinderella, and there was surely no happy ending waiting for her, but just the thought of another conversation with Thomas made her heart flutter.

“Stay close so we don’t get separated,” William insisted, interrupting her furtive search.

He tried to take Becca’s hand, but she acted as if she needed to hold up the edges of her dress with both hands to avoid tripping. She didn’t want William to get the wrong idea about their association, for many reasons.

They passed under a decorative row of fresh greenery braided along the archway as they entered the largest room Becca had ever been in. The flow of guests spread out across the banquet hall and around the active dance floor. Though it was now past sundown and no light shone through the soaring windows, the room was incredibly bright. Three glowing chandeliers hung across the room, and elaborate sconces along the walls held clusters of candles. Ornate steel panels partially covered raging fireplaces that were large enough to fit a horse. The pastel-patterned walls were highlighted with bright white trim, and the side tables were accented with vibrant flowers. Everything seemed to shine, even the people.

“Beautiful.” Growing up in the back rooms of a stark brothel, Becca had heard tales about sparkling palaces. This was only a private mansion in the country, but it made Becca realize that she didn’t have the imagination to fathom what a real palace might look like.

***

“Over here.” William found a clearing among the party-goers where they could see more of the dance area. The dancing was wonderful to watch, but William couldn’t help marveling at the music. Set up in the room’s corner, six string instruments made delightful harmony together, with strict regard for every pitch.

Becca said, “I’ve never heard so many instruments played at the same time.”

William’s mask slipped. “Fiddlesticks.” He struggled to align the eye holes to his own eyes. 

“Here, let me help.” Becca stepped behind him.

The bulky mask had a large wolf nose and pasted broken dinner plate chips along the bottom for teeth. It was also rather hot to wear. Now he understood why most men were wearing formal waistcoats with a simple colored bandit-style mask or a decorative top hat. Still, he liked thinking of himself as a wolf now.

Once William’s head string was retied and the mask properly placed, he thanked Becca, gave a perky wolf growl, then went back to watching the festivities.

***

The growl reminded Becca of William’s recent ‘incident.’ A rush of frightening imagery bombarded her: splashes of blood, shards from a shattered vase, screaming, and William triumphantly shouting “Victory!” This sweet-acting young man was capable of incredible horrors. 

Of course, it was easy to accept William’s frightening actions because his sins helped her to feel less guilty about her own.

She shook off the tainted thoughts and refocused on the colorful surroundings.

“People of high society laugh a lot,” William said. “Everything amuses them,” he giggled as if trying to join the merriment.

Liquid spirits and the lively music no doubt helped, but Becca figured that giving into laughter was a lot easier when the world was filled with so many things to laugh about. Most of these guests were probably not working folk, and most didn’t have dark pasts haunting them.

“I’m not sure I can follow dance exactly,” William said, “but I’ll try if you like.” He held up a hand.

Watching the synchronized patterns of people gently shuffling around each other made Becca a little dizzy. “No, thank you, William.” The dancing was intimidating, but she knew she would be willing to try it — with the right person. She imagined herself drifting around the dance floor with Thomas holding her close. It was a silly girl’s dream, but she couldn’t resist.

A gorgeous woman twirled by with her partner. Her content expression taunted Becca. She was either a mermaid or an exotic fish, with a scale pattern on her shiny green dress and hair covered with an assortment of seashells that likely took hours to arrange. The lady might have been in costume, but she looked stylish enough to take high tea with the queen.

Becca glanced down at her little ribbon-themed dress with shoes stuffed with shredded parchment to help them fit. She was nothing but a tarnished penny in a giant treasure chest of jewels. She shouldn’t be here. For the first time ever, her tiny room in the dreary servants’ quarters actually seemed comforting.

“I think… ” Just before suggesting they should leave, Becca spotted a familiar silhouette. Across the dance floor, a man in an all-black suit moved through the crowd with a regal stride. He wore a simple white mask, but his jawline and hair were exactly like Thomas’s. She was almost positive it was the man who held a tight grip on her thoughts for the last few weeks.

The crowd swallowed him up, and Becca wanted to run over and knock people out of her view, but she restrained herself. If it was Thomas, she had to be prepared to talk to him. What would she say? Would she continue to lie or reveal herself to him? Every word that she imagined speaking felt painful inching toward her lips.

Maybe Thomas’s presence wasn’t a good reason to stay; perhaps it was the best reason to leave.

***

“Frogs and snails,” William said, his gaze darting around the crowded room. “Daniel said there’d be refreshments, with frogs and snails.”

“I want to go home,” Becca moaned. 

“Why?” William huffed. “I had to dig a grave and scrub blood out of my church shoes so we could come here.” He wasn’t angry, but this was very upsetting. He had envisioned a whole evening that ended with Becca being so thankful that she would actually see William as more than just a friend.

With a stiff smile, Becca shushed him between her teeth. She sighed and whispered, “We cannot hide what we really are.”

“What we really are?” He checked his hands, expecting to see something he hadn’t noticed before.

“You know… ” Becca leaned toward William. “The bad things.”

“Oh, that we are wicked murderers?” he said, very amused. He and Becca surely shared a wonderful bond that would last forever.

“William!” Becca glanced about with an exaggerated smile under her ribbon mask. “Quiet, please. We shouldn’t say such things–“

“Treats!” William cut in with excitement, eyeing a far corner of the room. He grabbed Becca’s hand and led them toward a table loaded with exotic finger food. Weaving through the crowd, he threw “Pardon me” in every direction, not checking whether it was acknowledged.

“Not so fast!”

***

Struggling to keep up, Becca stumbled over the hem of her dress. She pulled free of William just in time to brace herself as she crumpled to the floor. She crashed hard and her mask flew off. People gasped and parted. The music stopped. One woman covered a loud giggle with her fan. 

Heart pounding, Becca cried, “I am so sorry,” to everyone around her. Frantically adjusting her dress, she made sure her ankles and cleavage were well covered. “Excuse me.” She collected her mask and tried to act dignified while getting up, ignoring the pain in her knees and elbows. A hand from behind took her arm and eased her back to her feet.

“Rebecca?” Thomas sounded angry as he released her. “What are you doing here?”

 

—

Three Months Earlier… 

Wolves of Lilyfield – Book 1 – Chapter 2 – It Started With A Scream

Honor, duty, reputation: were these things not what mattered most? Was having everyone’s respect enough of an accomplishment in life, or was something missing? Tobias pushed his plate away. He hadn’t noticed if the pheasant was good tonight; he didn’t care.

The dining table was a magnificent piece of art, carved out of imported mahogany. It could easily fit twelve people, but Tobias sat alone, recalling the view through the tall windows. It was nighttime and cloudy so there was nothing to see now, just the flicker reflection of the candles in the room.

During the day, there was an expansive view of the estate’s property. Occasionally, local farming tenants could be seen between the clusters of trees, but they were too far off to taint the view. It wasn’t the largest estate in the county, but the natural privacy in all directions made it seem like a little kingdom.

Another day had passed and Tobias hadn’t gone outside. His kingdom felt too big now, like his clothes which seemed to be growing on his old body which slowed and creaked a bit more every year.

He wiggled his empty wine glass. “I will take another.” His speech was slurred. “To the top.”

The only other person in the room was Blake, a brawny valet dressed in formal servant attire. He hurried across the long room to serve the master. “Very well, sir.”

The house was short-staffed lately, and Blake was helping with duties not traditionally under his title. A lot of the staff seemed irritated by this, but Tobias was tired of worrying about everyone’s happiness but his own. What had trying to be a generous landowner ever gotten him?

Tobias yanked the bottle out of Blake’s hands. “Just give it to me.”

“Are you sure? Perhaps you have had enough for tonight, sir.”

“Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best life is intoxicated,” Tobias replied snidely. He wasn’t sure if he was reciting the Byron quote correctly, but it made Tobias feel sophisticated while drinking away his troubling thoughts.

“Very well, sir.” Blake backed a few steps away and stared straight ahead.

Tobias took another gulp, challenging himself to take in more than he ever had.

Looking about, he couldn’t escape the feeling that his little kingdom was different now. Tobias had always adored his fine home and exquisite collection of art, tapestries, and custom furniture. When he wasn’t hunting or riding for pleasure, he could often be found admiring his horses or inspecting his art. But not anymore. Now he just read, drank, and stared out the windows complaining about the weather, always claiming it was too hot or too cold to go out. But it was just an excuse to do nothing except sit inside and drink himself into another day.

After finishing his glass, Tobias struggled to stand while keeping the open bottle upright.

“Let me help you, sir,” Blake offered.

“Out of my way.” Tobias pushed past his servant and into the hall, steadying himself against the walls.

I don’t need help, Tobias thought. I don’t need anyone.

Staggering toward the study, he inspected the family portraits lining the hall. They were picturesque glimpses of a life he could barely remember. His confident, youthful gaze mocked him. His beautiful wife and handsome son looked so real he wanted to reach out and touch them. But his wife was dead and his despicable son was off in the navy. The paintings were a collection of dreams long gone — people and moments he would never enjoy again.

Drifting further down the hall, he scowled at his surroundings. What use was his house, his horses, his garden, and everything else? They only reminded him that his sole purpose in life was being an employer, and he wasn’t even good at that anymore.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” he muttered. With the estate in financial jeopardy, he felt like a king who had let his people down. “Sell it all. Let the vultures pick through my bones.”

With a swig from his wine bottle, he gave an honest look at himself in a hall mirror. He saw a withered shell of a man.

Honor, duty, reputation: no, these were not what mattered most. Petty words couldn’t smother his longing for one more moment of beauty, one more moment of feeling loved.

***

Blake had never seen the master so belligerent. He straightened his livery, trying to believe the troubling behavior was the alcohol and not something more serious.

After watching Tobias make it down the hall and disappear into the study, Blake sighed, took his arm napkin and wiped down the chair where his master had spilled some wine.

Daniel stepped into the dining room with a scowl etched into his face. He was a heavyset butler and house steward in charge of the staff. A bossy, fat bastard, as far as Blake was concerned.

Blake knelt to scrub wine drops out of the fine Persian rug.

“Did you question his drinking?” Daniel demanded as he gathered the wine serving supplies.

“I didn’t mean to,” Blake insisted. He hoped to avoid another lecture about keeping a respectful tone toward his superiors. Trying to change the subject, he said, “The old man is getting worse.”

“It is not our place to judge. And the master is not to be referred to as ‘the old man,'” Daniel ordered. “Just do your duty.”

“Cleaning food and wine off the floor should not be my duty,” Blake said. Under his white gloves, his sore knuckles reminded him of his long days on the railroads. He couldn’t lift anything heavy without being thankful that his brother had died, opening the footman’s position for Blake. Being a valet to the master’s son was no easy task. But when Frederick went off to the navy, Blake helped with valet duties for Tobias. Going back to footman and maid duties felt one step closer to where Blake had started years ago.

“A servant’s title does not grant privileges unless the master declares it so,” Daniel said, “and maintaining the order of the house is all of our duty.”

Blake vigorously rubbed the spot off the rug. “Do you suspect that his excessive drinking has anything to do with releasing so many staff? Maybe Melissa is right; there really are financial troubles.”

Daniel extinguished some candles. “We are managing just fine.”

“We have been down to minimal staff for months,” Blake argued as politely as he could. “He even sold the hunting hounds and most of the horses, including Abigail. He loved that horse. I suspect that animal is why he never remarried.”

Daniel gave Blake a critical glare.

Blake continued with a wisp of a smile. “Then suddenly he sells Abigail? Did she have an affair?”

“Do not be crude,” Daniel said. “Clearly the master has changed his priorities.” 

Blake attacked the carpet with the fresh side of the napkin. “And what if these new priorities involve releasing even more staff? Soon we’ll be doing the gardener’s duties and working in the stables. Or maybe he’ll even relieve us from service.” This filled Blake with dread. The newspapers offered constant reminders that there were very few jobs available. New textile and farming machines were squeezing laborers out, there was an influx of immigrants fleeing an Irish famine, and hundreds of returning war veterans were trying to find work. There had even been a food riot in a city not too far away.

“Surely the master is merely tired of the extra expenses. His sister is too busy to visit, and most of his hunting friends are too old to enjoy traveling here. A full house staff is entirely unnecessary. Plus, the master had nothing to do with our loss of a proper housemaid.”

Daniel gave a knowing glance as Blake continued scrubbing. “You should be happy to cover for Lydia so the master doesn’t notice her absence.”

“Yes, I know.” Blake hated talking or even thinking about his ill wife. “If there are not financial issues, what’s all the drinking about?”

In a low tone, Daniel answered, “I suspect that the master is finally getting lonely. There is little company other than us, and I do not think he feels that we are company at all.” He sighed. “I’m sure the drinking will pass. The master merely has to adjust to being older and alone, at least until Frederick returns from the navy.”

Blake cringed thinking about Frederick’s many torments and how he stabbed a prized horse with a saber and tried to blame it on the staff. All the servants prayed that the navy would make Tobias’s son more agreeable to work for. If Frederick didn’t acquire a more honorable demeanor, Blake might need to take work elsewhere, even if it meant going back to the railroads. Hours in the sun, hammering stakes and lifting steel, had to be better than working for Frederick. Hopefully that day was a long ways away.

Blake stood up and tried to determine if he had removed enough of the spill. If only life’s problems were easy to remove with a little scrubbing.

With just a twinge of guilt, Blake imagined what would happen if some terrible accident befell his ill wife. Or better yet, something unfortunate could happen to Daniel as well. Doors would open again. With a prestigious promotion and his wife gone, Blake could earn a good recommendation letter from Tobias and leave the estate before Frederick took over. Blake wasn’t proud of these ugly thoughts, but he had them a lot lately.

Mary peeked out from the kitchen entrance.

“The master has retired to his tobacco for the evening,” Blake assured her.

“Splendid.” Mary started clearing the table. She was a quiet, young kitchen assistant with plain and simple features. She always seemed proud of this. Her hair was neatly tucked into a work cap, and every stitch and hem was perfect thanks to her precise handwork.

Mary covered a yawn after she returned from taking the uneaten pheasant to the kitchen. “I can’t wait to get to bed. THe master’s schedule is too erratic these days.”

“I agree.” Blake liked Mary, she was sweet, but a little uptight and self-righteous for his tastes. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to be intimate with her. Blake preferred women with more passion about them, like his wife — before she became ill. Still, on lonely nights, he wouldn’t say no to a visit from Mary. But it was merely a shameful desire to escape his stress and worries. Another ugly thought he should probably ignore. 

***

Daniel cringed at the way Blake treated his ill wife and occasionally leered at Mary and Becca. If Blake’s wife wasn’t a good person who needed care, Daniel would have spoken to the master about having Blake removed. But decent jobs were scarce and Daniel didn’t want to jeopardize Lydia’s situation, even to spite a terrible man like Blake.

However, Daniel could not deny that Blake was right. Daniel wanted to keep everyone calm, but there was something unusual happening with the master, and financial troubles were a real possibility. As much as Daniel worried about his own work security in these dark times, now that he had a daughter, the fear was compounded.

Daniel spit into a large serving spoon to give it a good polishing.

Best not to think about the estate’s future. Focus on his duties. Hard work and devotion to the master would surely keep his fears from invading his reality. And maybe some good sleep would help.

“Let’s hurry up,” Daniel ordered, “so we can all head to bed.” Even though the table only had one place setting, there was still a lot to do. There were candles, flowers, and a full spread of utensils that had to be carefully stored away.

A loud, echoing bang came from somewhere in the house. They held the silverware still and listened. There was a soft breeze outside, and Daniel could hear Melissa in the kitchen cleaning pots.

For several moments they didn’t move at all, listening to the creaking of the house and the rustling leaves outside.

 Daniel broke his silence. “The master probably just slammed a door or dropped something.”

Blake said, “I’ll go check on the master when we’re done.”

Mary returned to sorting candlesticks.

Daniel politely ordered, “Check on Lydia as well, just to make sure it was not her.”

“I will,” Blake confirmed with a frown.

Though Lydia should still be tucked safely away in the servants’ area downstairs, her random emotional outbursts could be loud. Daniel needed to have another serious talk with Blake about what to do with his wife.

“But I am sure she’s fine.” Blake insisted, but he didn’t sound confident. “She’s feeling much improved lately.”

Daniel shot Blake a skeptical glance as they worked.
Blake removed the unread newspaper from the table. “Did you see the article in the last Pioneer issue, promoting the voting reform act? It said, ‘We may have freed our colored folk, but we still have just as many slaves as the Americans.’”

Daniel knew Blake was just trying to change the subject, but he didn’t like the subject Blake picked.

“Without the vote, workers are chained to the whims of the elite, just like the French before they revolted.” Blake smiled. Provocative books and recent protests were spreading bold ideas about individual rights. Some feared it, some welcomed it, but Blake obviously could barely contain his anticipation.

Daniel scoffed. “The reform does not give the vote to people like us, just smaller landowners. And my uncle and father suffered terribly fighting Napoleon, so excuse me if I despise hearing the French being praised for anything, especially rebellious behavior.” He pointed at Blake. “I’ll not have any more seditious talk in this house. You are a servant in a respected English house and you are to act like one.”

In a soft but snide voice, Blake said, “Forgive my blasphemy, sire. Please don’t have me flogged.” He added a curtsy, holding the tablecloth like the edges of a dress. “I repent, I repent.”

Mary giggled.

Daniel hated Blake’s mocking, but there was no point making too much of it. Occasionally, if the master wasn’t about, Daniel tolerated some uncouth behavior to help ease the tension in the house. Anything to reduce the stress they all felt.

A terrifying scream rattled them. They stopped folding the tablecloth mid-crease. It was a young woman’s scream.

Mary grasped her hands and muttered a prayer.

As another scream rang down the hall, Daniel moved. “I know that voice!” It was Becca, the wayward young lady who showed up a year ago claiming to be his daughter. What trouble was she up to now?

The hall seemed longer than ever. When Blake and Daniel finally burst into the study, they froze.

“Oh, no.” Blake muttered.

Daniel struggled to interpret the confusing sight. Tobias was spread out on the floor in a pile of ceramic debris. With messy hair and a dirty servant’s apron, Becca stood over the master. She was trembling. A pool of blood grew around the elderly man’s motionless body and snaked into the fireplace.

Panicked, Daniel juggled several questions. “What? How? Becca, what are you doing here?”

 

---

 

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