Page 1 of Ashwood (Wallflowers and Demons #1)
Wicked Things
KATHERINE
T he thudding wheels of the golden barouche rattle over the cobblestones of Grosvenor Square, echoing inside the frostbitten night. I wonder if any ghosts have followed me from across the oceans.
Nora clutches the edge of the seat, and as the carriage rolls to a stop, she shakes her head.
“I just can’t stop thinking about it, Your Highness.
All those men searching the water, I’ve never seen the docks in such a state.
What’s in heaven’s name? What do you think that was all about?
The Bow Street Runners were already there, and not just for some petty quarrel. There had to be at least twenty men.”
My hand brushes against the curtained window as I peer out to take in the imposing grandeur of Hawthorne Manor. “They were looking for someone. We should not think about it. ‘Tis none of our concern.”
The wrought-iron gates stretch vertically, flanked by stately stone pillars and steps that lead up to the entrance lined with manicured hedges.
Lamps from inside shine a golden yellow.
It feels homely, yet unfamiliar. My pulse quickens.
I’ve no time to worry about someone else’s life when my own is in such a state.
I step out of the carriage, my silk slippers unaccustomed to hard stone as my maid, Nora, exits behind me.
She reaches for the luggage in the boot.
Nora, with her delicate frame, fiery red hair and submissive posture, is a reprieve of familiarity.
The voyage from China was unkind to everyone.
A foreign princess on board was nothing short of dangerous.
I was forced to remain hidden, confined to a small, windowless room.
With Nora, there is a firm loyalty, something I learned to use to my advantage during those moments of great solitude.
She was my only friend.
“Nora,” I gesture to the rear of the carriage. At this late hour, I am without a footman. “Help me with the rest of the things.“
The maid complies. A Butler greets us at the doors, then Nora and my belongings are swept away.
Inside, the Marquis and Marchioness await me in an elegant drawing room, painted in olive green, and my parents’ arrangements become glaringly obvious.
Money had exchanged hands for my care, for my presence.
The Hawthornes are eager to make me feel as though I am in the lap of luxury for their good name and that of the Prince Regent’s.
“Princess Xu, we are honoured to have you in our home,” the Marquis greets with a smile.
His wiry frame is immaculately dressed, and his Christian piety is evident in his grey eyes as they watch me with feigned kindness.
He sees me, perhaps as more of a charitable case than a guest. “We trust that you will find our humble abode suitable for your needs.”
I smile. “Thank you, my lord. I’m sure it is more than adequate.”
The Marchioness, a robust woman, with dark features, who stands beside her husband, nods. “We are delighted to have you here, Your Highness. My dear Genevieve has spoken of you often in her letters. You speak English quite well.”
“That is kind of you to say, Lady Hawthorne. I owe it all to Genevieve.”
Genevieve Hawthorne.
We have been writing letters for some time now, since Paris finishing school, when I was still a young and naive girl.
Since then, our correspondence has become a lifeline.
Genevieve had sent letters full of flirtatious wit and personal anecdotes that kept me entertained for hours.
The Prince Regent who’d learned of our friendship, was quite persuasive about my residence, or so that is what Genevieve insists.
I know better. To secure the silk trade?
The Prince Regent would promise anything, and my father, a Prince of the Qing Dynasty — is unscrupulous.
“Your family has been so generous, my lord and lady,” I say, lowering my eyes. “I do not take this kindness lightly.”
The Marquis nods, perhaps too proudly. “It is our duty, dear girl. Christian charity is a cornerstone of our lives.”
I can’t help but smile at the irony.
Christian charity, indeed.
The conversation remains brief, polite, and perfunctory.
Soon after, Genevieve steps into the room, dressed in a pale green gown and her midnight hair perfectly coiffed.
Brown eyes light up as she sees me, then, without hesitation, she crosses the room and pulls me in a tight embrace. “Oh, Katherine! How I’ve missed you!”
My heart lifts at the sight of my friend. We are, after all, sisters in spirit — each other’s escape from the burdens of their lives. More so now than ever. I return the hug. It brings me a kind of joy I did not think I would ever find. “I’ve missed you too, Genevieve.”
The opulence of my surroundings engulfs our hug. The high ceilings, the grand piano at one end of the room, and the golden drapes framing the windows — it is dizzying. Overwhelming.
“Come,” Genevieve says and trembling, grips my hand, “we must show you your room. We had it painted before your arrival.”
Genevieve leads me up marble stairs, down the hallway, and toward my assigned room.
It is filled with the scent of lavender and rosewater and is modest in comparison to the grandeur of Hawthorne Manor, yet, it is still luxurious.
Set at the rear of the estate, away from the activity at the front, it provides me with quiet.
The walls are painted a soft lavender, and the curtains are made of delicate lace.
The bed is large, with a thick canopy draped over it, and linens that are white and inviting.
A small writing desk sits by the window, papers neatly piled, as if I have been here for years, not minutes.
I open a cupboard and see that my things have already been unpacked.
I walk over to the window and gaze out over the back garden, carefully manicured with flowers, and all glimmering underneath a yellow moon.
Genevieve approaches me. She is concerned as she always is.
“If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be close by. ”
“It seems forever since we’ve spoken.”
A Lady’s Maid arrives and our conversation comes to an abrupt end. “Her Ladyship wants to see you,” the woman says.
“I’ll be right back,” Genevieve turns to the door, “Mamma is calling. ‘Tis probably most likely about this evening’s soirée.”
“Soirée?” I reply without moving from my spot, but she is already gone.
There is no time to catch my breath. Nora enters my chambers with a quick knock. Her expression remains calm but it’s her eyes that betray her. “Princess, it is time. His Majesty expects your presence at the soirée this evening. You must be ready. Guests will be arriving soon.”
I blink, stunned. I have not been informed of any evening engagement, let alone one of such significance.
My thoughts, already overwhelmed by the strangeness of the estate and customs I barely understand, burgeon with haste.
And now—this? I massage a knot out of my shoulder, sore from the jostling carriage ride.
“But I just arrived—surely the Prince would understand that I need some more time to adjust and—”
Nora interrupts me with her usual no-nonsense attitude and both hands on her hips. “His Majesty’s invitation is not one to be refused. He sends a missive that he will be attending this evening. You must go.”
The Prince Regent himself. I thought I had more time, but I am not offered even a single day of respite. “This is all so soon,” I rub my cheek. “I don’t know how to act… I don’t know what to wear…”
Nora doesn’t pause. She moves toward the wardrobe, opens it and pulls out a gown.
It is elegant, but not garish. It’s a soft shade of blue, delicate yet dignified, with intricate lace detailing at the neckline.
Not a colour I’d normally entertain and I prefer silk before lace.
“This is the one,” Nora says. “We’ll make you presentable.
You’ll need to learn quickly, Princess. The Prince Regent’s eyes are always watching, and there is little room for mistakes. ”
Nora assists me with the gown and I become a mere doll being dressed for a performance I never asked for.
As Nora fastens the laces behind me, my reflection distorts in the mirror.
It is a frown I wear, and most unbecoming for a princess or a lady.
The girl staring back at me is a stranger.
She is dressed in clothes she never would have chosen for herself, with hair arranged in a style that is foreign and unfamiliar.
It is the reflection of a life lost, once full of quiet choices, now dictated by the needs of others.
“I barely know anyone here,” I whisper. “They’ll have me for supper…”
Nora glances at my reflection, then secures the pearl-encrusted, and golden crown, on top.
“Your Highness, you are expected to know, to learn. There is no room for mistakes. The Prince will be watching, do not make him look a fool or only you will suffer the consequences. The Hawthornes are hosting. You will not be alone and you do not have to travel.”
My heart races at the thought of the Prince Regent. I have heard much about him. Namely, his power, his influence, and the sway he holds over all matters of state. To embarrass him in front of the ton, he will have my head if I do not comply.
“Do you think they will notice me?”
Nora pauses, her hands still as she looks me over, then answers with a small, unreadable smile. “Princess Katherine, you are impossible to ignore, and that my dear, is the problem. The sooner we find you a husband, the sooner the rumours will be laid to rest. For I assure you, there will be many.”
Nora adjusts the final details of my appearance. When she steps away from the mirror, I feel out of place. Stressed. But there’s no time for fear. I’ve already committed to this life, whether I am ready for it or not. My father, my mother, my sisters. Everything I’ve ever known is gone.