The Lady of Bolton Hill by Elizabeth Camden

Author:Elizabeth Camden
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-31T22:00:00+00:00

Mrs. Lorna Lancaster, born Lorna Tremain, had the exact shade of gray eyes as her brother, but that was where the resemblance ended. Lorna’s hair was a rich auburn she had twisted atop her head, and she wore a smartly embroidered peacock blue jacket and skirt. With a skirt so narrowly cut that she walked in delicate little steps, it was hard to envision Lorna growing up in the same squalid tenement alongside Daniel. Today, Lorna looked the picture of well-bred elegance as she sipped coffee at the Belgravia Coffee Shop in the historic section of Baltimore. The café had brick walls and ancient plank floors that leant itself to intimate conversations.

Clara was grateful Lorna had agreed to meet with her. After the publication of her article in last week’s edition of The Christian Crusade, she feared she might be persona non grata among the entire Tremain clan. She had not seen Daniel since he stormed out of her garden that awful morning, and he’d ignored the series of conciliatory messages she had sent him in the following days.

Lorna was nonchalant about the article. “Business as usual,” she said lightly. “Daniel has always carried on that relentless grudge against Alfred Forsythe. I lost interest years ago.”

As the oldest of Daniel’s sisters, Lorna was the person most likely to have insight into his character. For a man to be so brilliant, so talented, and yet suffer from such a profound lack of moral compass in his business operations was intolerable. It appeared everyone in Daniel’s company and family simply accepted his vendetta against Alfred Forsythe as naturally as the sun setting in the west. Clara could not simply overlook the effect Daniel’s anger had on his soul, and Lorna was her best shot at trying to unravel the complicated threads of Daniel’s life during the long years she had spent in England.

“Daniel was always outrageously protective,” Lorna said. “I knew we didn’t have much money when we were growing up, but he shielded us from that fact. We were never hungry and he always had something for us on Christmas morning. A hair ribbon or a bar of scented soap. The only time I realized how close to the edge we lived was one morning when I noticed the Ansonia clock was missing from the wall in the kitchen. I thought we had been robbed and told Daniel about it when he returned from work that night. The look that came over his face . . .” Lorna’s voice trailed off and her brow furrowed at the memory, but at last her voice continued. “He looked so ashamed. He had pawned the clock and hoped to earn it back before any of us noticed it missing. It was a valuable clock, and he never got it back, but a week later a new one was hanging in its place. It had a cheap oak frame and the hands were made of iron, but that clock means more to me than if it were made of solid gold.

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