Wicked Passions: Book 1 in the Wicked Love Series

The Crumbling Townhome

Chapter 1

February 1875

Amelia woke before dawn and dressed in the dark as she had done for the past four years. No candles or oil lamps were afforded to her. “Sacrifices must be made”, one of her aunt’s most used phrases rang in her ears daily. Doing her best to not make any noise, Amelia gathered her tattered work uniform and dressed herself. After years of meager meals, the once-tight uniform now hung on the girl. Amelia braided her hair quickly, headed out the door to start her morning chores, and bumped into a small desk.

“Damn it.” She hissed.

“Amelia, you know that desk is there.” The voice of her sleepy roommate spoke to her.

“Yes, ma’am, I know the desk is there,” Amelia replied.

“Then why have you walked into that desk every morning for the past four years?”

“I’m sorry. I tried my best not to wake you.” Amelia whispered, but for the life of her she wasn’t sure why. No one else was in the room with them.

“It’s alright child, I’m always up at this hour. Old habits die hard.” The elderly woman swung her feet out of her bed. Mrs. Hunter, the aged housekeeper, had shared her room with Amelia when Lady Winthrop forced the girl to become a servant to pay for Lord Southerton’s funeral arrangements. Mrs. Hunter had offered Lady Southerton her bed, but the young woman

declined and opted for a worn mat on the floor by the fireplace. “Be a dear and help an old woman up.” Mrs. Hunter held up her arm and Amelia helped her stand. “These bones don’t work so well on cold mornings.” She complained.

Amelia smiled, “Maybe we could get more coal for the fireplace.” She offered.

“I doubt your aunt will spare anything more for us.” Mrs. Hunter grunted as she stretched her back. “You get started, your aunt and uncle will be up soon, and they will want to be waited on.”

Amelia nodded as she left the room. She quietly went down the dark back staircase, counting the steps in her head. “One, two, three, skip” and she hopped over the broken step. She was sure if she put her weight on it she would fall down the staircase. Lord and Lady Winthrope could not be bothered to fix a broken step they would never use. She pushed the creaky door that led to the kitchen open to see Nancy, the short and greying cook for the Winthropes, bustling about the kitchen lighting fires and reaching for pots for the day’s meals. Wrapped in a bundle in the corner nearest the fireplace rested Andrew, Nancy’s six-year-old child. The little boy was resting peacefully and completely unaware of what was going on around him. The kitchen was dim, with only the light from the fireplace glowing. Candles and oil lamps were not spared for the kitchen either. Beaten copper pots and pans hung overhead. An old scrub brush and bucket were by the back door waiting to be used.

“Good morning Nan.” Amelia yawned.

“Good morning, Miss Amelia,” Nancy replied in a sing-song fashion that led Amelia to believe that the cook had been up much longer than Amelia.

Amelia grabbed a yellowed step stool from underneath the kitchen table. She stepped up to reach a large pot with a broken handle, and she placed it on the worn tabletop.

“I could have taken care of that,” Nancy replied. Although the cook was short, she was slightly taller than Amelia.

“That’s alright, I should have been down earlier to help you,” Amelia replied.

“Miss Amelia, how late were you up till last night? I know you were mending your aunt’s stockings in the dark again.”

“I don’t know, Nancy. But if I didn’t get it done last night, I would have more to do today.”

Amelia grabbed a large cauldron and tried her best to haul it into the sink. She began pumping water to fill it with her aunt’s bathwater. Nancy rushed over to help Amelia lift the cauldron up and over to the fire. Amelia leaned over the boy bundled up in the blanket and kissed the top of his golden-brown head of hair.

“Good morning, Mr. Baker.” She whispered. The little boy stirred and looked up at her.

“Miss A-m-e-l-i-a.” he whispered back, stretching out the sound of her name. He smiled brightly at her. “Is it morning time? Will we have lessons again today?”

Amelia sighed. When she had free moments in her day, she would work with Andrew on learning his numbers and reading. “I will do my best.” The child smiled again and closed his eyes.

Amelia returned to getting her chores started. Getting her old bucket filled with soapy water, Amelia headed for the foyer. She walked quietly through the empty townhome. No artwork, candelabras, or chandeliers were in any rooms or hallways. Valuable objects were carted up and sold to pay the Winthrope creditors. The ballroom and library were emptied and thankfully locked up. This meant that Amelia did not have to clean those rooms. The Winthrope’s London townhome was once a grand place adorned with fabulous artwork, plush Persian rugs with vivid colors, and fancy brocade wallpaper. Now, the wallpaper was torn and peeling from the walls. The rugs that had not been sold were scattered with holes, and worn so badly that the once vivid colors were now a muddy brown. The only rooms with anything left to care for were the sitting room with the overly worn rugs and threadbare setae of an underminable color and her uncle’s office. Amelia was never allowed to go into her uncle’s office and she was glad. On the few occasions that she was called into his office, Amelia didn’t know where to stand. Paperwork and books were thrown everywhere. She would hate to have been responsible for cleaning up after him.

Starting at the door, Amelia kneeled on the floor and plunged her hand into the icy water. She scrubbed at the chipped blue and white floor tiles of the entryway. It was sad for her to see how badly the once beautiful home had been degraded. She briefly wondered what her father would think if he saw how his sister Beatrice lived. She tried her best to stop thinking of her beloved Papa, it only reminded her of the empty hole she had in her heart that seemed to grow with each passing day since his death. Lord Southerton would be disgusted by the way his sister lived and furious with the way she treated his only daughter. As a child, Amelia heard many conversations between her father and aunt. Her father tried to compel Beatrice to watch her spending habits. He warned her that Charles would bankrupt his family, and shortly before his death, Lord Southerton refused to pay anymore of Charles Winthrope’s gambling debts. Lord Southerton had given Beatrice an ultimatum. She was to leave her husband, retire to the Southerton family estate, and live on a small stipend or she would be cut off from any further help from her brother. Beatrice did not like that option and flatly refused. Her husband may have been a cad, but he never forced her to stop spending money. Amelia couldn’t see how living in a crumbling townhome was better than retreating to the country. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs from her mind.