Songs of Yesterday Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Free Offer

  Scarlett Hall Series

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Defiant Brides

  Regency Hearts

  Songs of Yesterday

  Secrets of Scarlett Hall

  Book 5

  Jennifer Monroe

  Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Monroe

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Would you like to receive a free ebook? Go to www.jennifermonroeromance.com and get yours today!

  Secrets of Scarlett Hall

  Whispers of Light

  Echoes of the Heart

  Voices of Shadows Past

  Silent Dreams

  Songs of Yesterday

  Although this story can be read as a standalone, it is best read in order of the series. Many characters we meet in this story appear in the prelude, A Lady’s Promise, available for free on my website: www.jennifermonroeromance.com.

  Prologue

  Scarlett Hall, October 1806

  All was quiet throughout the estate of Scarlett Hall during the early morning hours. The only sound was the faint scratching of quill on parchment as Lady Eleanor Lambert sat in the study penning an entry into her journal.

  She studied the half-filled page. If it were not for her journals, she doubted she could have endured all that had been thrown at her over the years. Many tomes like the one in which she currently wrote sat locked away, each hiding hundreds of entries written by generations of Ladies Lambert.

  Eleanor hoped the next matriarch of Scarlett Hall would continue the tradition started more than a hundred and fifty years prior. Not only so the family’s secrets would be available for future generations, but to also keep the tongue from revealing that which it should not. How often had she found herself in hot water with her mother when she was a child because she could not keep secrets to herself? All too many! That had stopped the moment she confided in her writings.

  With a sigh, she continued with her entry.

  Annabel is now married, leaving only my youngest child, Nathaniel, to take his rightful place as heir to Scarlett Hall. He continues to earn high marks in school, and I have received nothing but outstanding reports from the headmaster.

  Charles would have been proud of how well his only son is performing, and I must admit that I, too, have a great measure of pride for his accomplishments. He will be able to hold his head high when he returns, and it will be based on his own achievements rather than those of the men who came before him.

  I find it curious that, because the estate is so grand, many believe its inhabitants are without fault when nothing could be further from the truth. Yet, is that not the case for most households? Do not the majority of families hide from the outside world that which would bring them the greatest shame? Scarlett Hall is certainly no different, for its walls hide away generations of secrets no Lambert would wish revealed.

  The secrets I have kept, those that these walls have locked away, have been dealt with, and for the first time in many years, peace has finally been restored. Laughter and love will ring in these halls once again, for I have come to terms with what has occurred in the past. No more secrets exist, and never have I felt so free when it comes to my family.

  However, what concerns me this day arises not from issues within my family but rather from an old friend, Lady Rachel Prescott. I have not spoken to Rachel for more than twenty years when she was forced to leave Rumsbury carrying the child of a man who rejected her. We lost touch over the years, which is not uncommon when one moves far away, but I thought of her often. Although she had been a confidante to Charles before he and I married, she and I had become closer than Charles cared to admit.

  Rachel has requested I visit her in London, for she wishes to confide in me a secret. What that secret is, I cannot imagine, but the fact that she has reached out to me after so long says much about whatever she is facing.

  One thing is certain; I will do whatever I can to assist her. As I become older—and dare I say a bit wiser—I have come to realize that, despite the fact that what I had hoped to have with Charles never came to pass, the children we borne together made every moment worth what I was forced to endure.

  Now that my family has been put to rights once more, I am able to give aid to an old friend without worry for those about whom I care so deeply.

  Eleanor wiped the excess ink from the nib of the quill and replaced it in its holder. If Rachel was contacting her after all this time, what she wished to share was dire, indeed, for she would know that the doors to Scarlett Hall were always open to her.

  “The carriage is ready.”

  Eleanor glanced up at Forbes, the family butler—and close friend—standing in the doorway. Like Eleanor, he had aged over the past few years, the silver in his hair becoming more prominent by the day. He stood with his usual austereness, but if one were to look closely at his eyes, they would see the kindness he had within him, especially when it came to the Lambert family. He was a man Eleanor could trust, not only with her own secrets but with the wellbeing of her children, as well.

  “Thank you, Forbes,” Eleanor replied, snuffing out the candle just as the first rays of the sun illuminated the room.

  Eleanor led the way to the foyer, where Forbes placed a wrap on her shoulders. Regardless of what was behind the urgency of Rachel’s letter, she could not help but feel a sense of excitement at seeing her old friend again. How could she ever have allowed their friendship to become so distant?

  “And what could be causing such a wide smile?” Forbes asked. “It has been missing for some time now.” He handed her a hat with a long peacock feather and a grouping of purple flowers that matched her wrap.

  Eleanor did not realize she had been smiling and she could not help but laugh. “I suppose it has been misplaced lately,” she said after a moment of thought. “But the stormy days are now past, and I see nothing but sunshine in our future.”

  “I for one am pleased to see it returned.”

  He had yet to remove his hand from her shoulder, and with heated cheeks, she patted his hand and said, “Scarlett Hall has a strength, a sturdiness that will weather any storm. I am but a ship on its current.”

  Forbes chuckled. “I believe it is your strength that determines the future and not the strength of the mortar of a house, even if it is a home as grand as this. Otherwise, I agree with your statement. It feels as if a burden has been lifted and the air is now cleaner and lighter, pushing away the last of the sh
adows that attempted to linger.”

  Eleanor chuckled. “And when did you become such a poet?” she asked affectionately.

  “I? A poet? Not likely. You are the writer here. I simply exist in your presence.”

  Taking his hand in hers, she looked up at him. “You never ‘simply exist’,” she whispered. “I am uncertain what I would have done without you all these years. Thank you.”

  He gave her a polite nod. “Gratitude is not necessary,” he said, although his cheeks colored. “Now, I suggest we leave before the roads become too busy.” He opened the door to the sun pouring into the foyer, and Eleanor squinted against its brightness. Morning dew clung to the blades of grass, the sun glinting off the droplets adding to the glare.

  Eleanor stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look back at the house. Even after all these years, the magnificence of Scarlett Hall was breathtaking with its jutting parapets and grand towers. She looked forward to the day Nathanial would return home for good, for it had been much too long since a lord of the manor had taken his place as the head of the household.

  She had not released Forbes’ hand, nor had he hers, and together they walked to the carriage. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before helping her into the vehicle, and once the door closed, he took his place in the driver’s seat.

  Eleanor only used her driver when propriety called for it, but that was not required for this journey. When it came to matters of family and heart, Forbes was the only man she trusted.

  As the carriage pulled forward, her mind went to Rachel. How wonderful it would be to see her friend again!

  Chapter One

  Miss Rose Skylark stood in fascination as she watched a bird from her window. The tiny creature flittered around as if it wished to gain entry into the house.

  “I am sorry, my friend,” she whispered. “I will not be able to sing to you this morning.”

  As if comprehending her words, the bird circled about and then flew away.

  Sometimes Rose would open her window and sing, although now she was more careful after what had transpired the previous week. She had been singing as she was wont to do when a man she had not seen standing on the footpath below called up to her.

  “What a lovely voice you have,” he had said.

  She had gasped and closed the window, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. It was a fine compliment, but she suspected that his flattery had been less for her singing and more for his admiration that she was in her nightdress! So few people were up and about so early in the morning that it never occurred to her someone might be watching her. That had been the first—and last—time anyone had been present to witness this morning ritual. She made certain to note if anyone was in the general vicinity—and that she was properly attired beforehand.

  “Your Aunt Eleanor will be here soon,” her mother said, stirring Rose from her thoughts.

  Turning, Rose smiled at the woman she thought the most beautiful in all of England with her hair brighter than the sun and an elegance unmatched by anyone else.

  “Are all your things packed?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Rose replied, motioning to the bags and trunks at the end of the bed. “I have everything I will need.” She sighed. “I wish you did not need to travel to Paris. It would be such great fun if you were able to accompany me.”

  “Some things are out of our control,” her mother said, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she crossed the room. “You will be in good company with your Aunt Eleanor, and I promise your time at Scarlett Hall will be better than you could ever imagine.”

  Although Lady Eleanor Lambert was not her real aunt, nor had she met the woman, her mother had insisted Rose address her as such. And, of course, Rose would do so, for there was no rule or task her mother commanded that she did not obey—her upbringing would not allow it.

  Her mother stroked her cheek. “My little girl has become a woman,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Mother? Are you all right?” The woman appeared more worried and was much thinner as of late. “Perhaps I should go with you to Paris. It would be lovely to see that great city.”

  “Nonsense,” her mother replied as she patted Rose’s hand. “I will be much too busy with my business appointments to spend time with you. Plus, you must ready yourself for your debut into society. Perhaps you will even meet a gentleman while you are at Scarlett Hall. But if you do not, I know the right man will find you and capture your heart.”

  Rose giggled. “I am sure he will.” Then she covered her mouth and gasped. “Oh, no! I forgot that I had promised Mrs. Danderton I would help at the charity table at St. Mary’s next week.” Panic overtook her for a moment. She had never been one to go back on her word, especially when it came to commitments concerning charity.

  Her mother chuckled. “Do not worry. I will inform her that you will be in the country visiting your aunt. It warms my heart that you always think of others. However, remember that you are to think of yourself in the coming months.”

  “I will,” Rose promised. She studied her mother’s face to etch it into her mind. “How I will miss you, Mother! But knowing we will not be apart long does ease my apprehension.”

  Her mother embraced her. “When Eleanor arrives, I would like you to remain here, or in the drawing room if you prefer, until I send for you. I have several important things I must discuss privately with your aunt.” Her mother stood. “Now, be sure you have everything you need.”

  After her mother left, Rose glanced around the room one last time. What remained on the vanity table could stay, for she would return once her mother came for her. There was nothing more she would require, so she returned to the window and gazed out once more.

  London was forever busy, and Rose smiled as a couple strolled past, a young boy no older than three wobbling beside them. The man laughed and then swooped the child into his arms, the boy crying out in laughter as his father spun him about.

  Watching fathers with their children had always brought a sense of loss to Rose. Her father had died before she was born, and although her mother had loved her enough for both parents, that sense of wanting never left her. Granted it was not as strong now as it once had been, but it remained, nonetheless. One day, when Rose was married, she would have a child of her own and that child, God willing, would not suffer without a father as she had.

  A carriage approached and came to a stop outside the house. The time had come for Rose to leave her childhood home and find her way out in the world for the first time in her life. Her Aunt Eleanor was gracious to allow Rose to join her at Scarlett Hall, and Rose would do everything to make her mother proud.

  Hurrying from the window lest she be caught spying, she sat on the edge of the bed waiting for the moment when her mother sent for her. Thoughts of the days ahead caused a mixture of worry and excitement to fill her, but she had to admit she was much more enthusiastic than concerned.

  ***

  The London streets were filled with people, as they typically were. Young children in tattered clothes dashed between carriages, causing more than one driver to shout obscenities for the startled horses they left in their wake. Couples wearing the latest fashions strolled between the various shops while those of less means hurried on the various errands they had been assigned.

  The ladies who accompanied the gentlemen flaunted dresses and hats in styles Eleanor had not yet seen; more than likely of the latest trends from Paris. A palette of blues, greens, reds, and yellows moved along the streets at a leisurely pace, strolling about so they could praise one another for trivial matters. Eleanor found the idea of spending one’s time in such a way confounding. Did they not have more important affairs with which to focus their attention?

  The carriage turned down a street filled with elegant homes, all flaunting new white paint with windows trimmed in a variety of colors. When they stopped in front of one of the houses, its windows trimmed in red, Eleanor’s heart fluttered with excitement. What news did h
er old friend have for her?

  In her excitement, she did not wait for Forbes to help her alight from the carriage.

  A low iron fence surrounded the front garden, and the gate groaned when Forbes opened it for Eleanor, sending a shiver of foreboding down her spine. Before she reached the door, it opened to a woman she recognized without fail despite the many years they had not seen one another.

  “Rachel,” Eleanor whispered.

  “I will see to the carriage,” Forbes said with a bow.

  Eleanor waved him off, barely hearing what he had said as she studied the woman she had known all those years ago. Her beauty had not withered despite her haggard appearance. The emerald dress she wore hung from her thin frame, but she retained her regal stance. Her hair had lost some of its previous luster, its auburn tones evident despite the gray sprinkled through it.

  “You came,” Rachel said as she kissed Eleanor’s cheek.

  Eleanor thought she saw the woman grimace in pain, but it was so brief, she dismissed it almost immediately. Knowing that Rachel was ill may have made her see what was not there.

  Rachel moved aside. “Please, come in. I must admit that I have missed you terribly all these years.”

  “And I you,” Eleanor said as she stepped into the foyer. The space was decorated with the simplest of décor. It touted the same stateliness as its owner, its walls painted a light yellow and trimmed with white.

  Eleanor followed Rachel down a short hallway that led past the staircase.

  “I trust your journey was safe?” Rachel asked as she opened the heavy wooden door.

  “It was,” Eleanor said, following Rachel into a large room. It contained two chairs with purple fabric and a matching sofa, all of which sat on a massive square of white carpeting before the now empty fireplace. “We encountered no problems along the way.”