The Lost Bee Read Online Free

impatient. What was happening?
    “Miss Gray.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Is there some service I can render your poor family?”
    “What’s wrong, Morgan? Why did you not come to see me?”
    She followed his nervous glance to the navvies bunched together at the fresh grave, hats crushed in their work-worn hands and tears streaming down their faces. Mr. Davies from the bookshop stood not far away with the rector. They quickly looked away, embarrassed.
    Susan’s stomach turned again. They were embarrassed for her .
    “Mr. Baker.” All was lost, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You were going to speak to my father.”
    “But that’s all changed now, isn’t it? You have no father.”
    “What…Morgan, what are you saying?”
    “Nothing. We can have nothing to say to each other.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I’ve considered my position carefully. I was bewitched by your strange gray eyes. But now I’ve come to my senses. I’ll not degrade myself with a…”
    She steadied herself against the headstone.
    “I wish you no harm,” he said. “I mean to say nothing of what passed between us. But neither will I be dragged into the gutter.”
    With a lift in his step as if he’d battled a dragon and survived, he jumped into the curricle from Millam Hall, Papa’s curricle, and drove away.  
    The next afternoon brought a reply to Susan’s letter to her grandfather, not written by the old gentleman but by her uncle. He sent no condolences, no words of comfort, no welcome to the new heir.
My Dear Miss Gray,
 I can only imagine what your father must have told you, but let me assure you that your assumptions are quite misplaced. If there was ever a legal union between my wife’s brother, John Gray, and your unfortunate mother, I invite you to produce the proof.
You will not find it.
In short, as a bastard, your brother is heir to nothing.
Furthermore, some few days before your letter arrived, I received correspondence from a Mr. Morgan Baker of Carleson Peak who begged to introduce himself and apprise me of our impending relationship through marriage. I was obliged to respond and make him aware of the circumstances of your birth, thus saving him from a most injurious connection.
If you insist upon passing yourself off as a respectable member of this family, I must continue to expose the wretched truth. Do not write to me again, nor to any of the inhabitants of Grayside.
In all sincerity,
Mortimer Caversham
    Mama was of no use. She couldn’t remember the town where she and Papa were married or name the church where the banns were read.
    Susan’s pitiful little family, like cast-out angels, had fallen far from heaven. All was not lost. The new duke took an interest. He offered to find Susan a governess position, but she had to refuse. What if her uncle found her out and exposed her as a bastard? She couldn’t bear the humiliation.
    “I’ll think of something,” she told Millie.
    “There is a position at Gohrum House in London, first under-housekeeper,” he said. “Quite respectable, and it would ease my mind to know you were in a secure place.”
    Her pride screamed against it, but she forced herself to consider. Gohrum House was in St. James Square. London would be fascinating. She’d be a member of the upper staff, respected. In many grand houses, the housekeeper was related to the family. The truth was , she had nowhere else to go.
    “Thank you, your grace.” It was the only logical answer. “I am most grateful.”
    The duke placed young John with one of his tenant farmers at Millam. He said it was out of respect for John Gray, though Susan suspected his innate goodness was as much the cause. John was thrilled. He hated school. Now he’d learn farming and land management. He hoped to do well enough to one day to be land agent for the Gohrum properties.
    Susan found a place for Mama through Mr. Davies, the book seller, whose aunt in Bath let rooms to respectable old