The Secrets of Hartwood Hall

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLCpenguinrandomhouse.comCopyright © 2023 by Katie LumsdenPenguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.DUTTON and the D colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATANames: Lumsden, Katie, author.Title: The secrets of Hartwood Hall: a novel / Katie Lumsden.Description: New York: Dutton, [2023]Identifiers: LCCN 2022019021 (print) | LCCN 2022019022 (ebook) |ISBN 9780593186923 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780593186930 (ebook)Subjects: LCGFT: Gothic fiction. | Detective and mystery fiction. | Novels.Classification: LCC PR6112.U47 S43 2023 (print) | LCC PR6112.U47 (ebook) | DDC 823/.92—dc23/eng/20220727LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022019021LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022019022Cover design by Dominique JonesBook design by Nancy Resnick, adapted for ebook by Estelle MalmedThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.pid_prh_6.0_142549203_c0_r0 CONTENTSCover Title PageCopyrightDedicationPrologueVolume OneChapter IChapter IIChapter IIIChapter IVChapter VChapter VIChapter VIIChapter VIIIChapter IXChapter XChapter XIChapter XIIChapter XIIIChapter XIVChapter XVChapter XVIChapter XVIIChapter XVIIIChapter XIXChapter XXVolume TwoChapter IChapter IIChapter IIIChapter IVChapter VChapter VIChapter VIIChapter VIIIChapter IXChapter XChapter XIVolume ThreeChapter IChapter IIChapter IIIChapter IVChapter VChapter VIChapter VIIChapter VIIIChapter IXChapter XChapter XIChapter XIIVolume FourChapter IChapter IIChapter IIIChapter IVChapter VChapter VIChapter VIIChapter VIIIChapter IXChapter XVolume FiveChapter IChapter IIChapter IIIChapter IVChapter VChapter VIChapter VIIChapter VIIIAcknowledgmentsAbout the Author_142549203_ FOR NICK When I think of Hartwood Hall, there are moments that come back to me again and again, moments that stain me, that cling like ink to my skin.My first view of the house: a glimpse of stone, of turrets and gables, tall windows and long grass.The sound of Louis’s laugh. Bright and golden, eager and young.Paul’s hands in my hair, his body pressed against mine.The silver locket, the dim portrait of the lost girl faded and worn within.Lying cold in my bed at night, covers pulled tight around me, listening with my good ear to murmurs and taps in the darkness.A figure in the distance, a shimmer beyond the lake. There, in the corner of my eye one moment. The next, vanished, leaving an empty impression behind.The sound of a gunshot in the dark, running footsteps, burning flames, and black, black sky. VOLUME ONE CHAPTER IFour weeks after we buried my husband, I found myself in the back of a carriage, trundling slowly uphill. The road was rough, the carriage ill-built, my black dress heavy, my eyes heavier. I had that kind of tiredness running through me that comes not from lack of sleep but from lack of rest, lack of calm. My body ached for something new.Beyond the windows, I could see sweeping hills, tall grass swaying in hedged fields, rows of trees in distant apple orchards. We rattled by farmhouses and far-off villages, passed great houses set back from the road. Then green-brown wilderness for miles, not another carriage or even a laborer in sight. The sun streamed down on rivers and pathways, on dairy fields and scattered trees. This was a quiet part of the world, all mud and sun and sky.I had caught the Great Western Railway from London to Bath the day before, emerged into a busy station in a cloud of steam. I’d stayed overnight in a quiet inn, then taken the post-chaise to a town I had never heard of. From there, a carriage was sent to meet me. I had thought at first it must be from the house, but when I inquired after Mrs. Eversham, the driver only scrunched up his nose and said, “I don’t know, ma’am. Never heard of Hartwood Hall before now.”He had been instructed from afar, I supposed. He knew no more about Hartwood Hall than I did, and that was precious little. That the mistress was called Mrs. Eversham. That she, like me, was a widow. That she, unlike me, had a child. Louis Eversham. My new charge. A boy of ten years old.And that was all. I had met only with an agent in London—a stout woman of around fifty with iron-gray hair. The study in her house in Cheapside was gray, too, with dull-colored furniture and cushionless chairs, a huge ledger adorning the pedestal desk.“And you have been at several places, I see?” she’d asked, surveying my references.“Yes.”“You are nine-and-twenty?”“Yes.”“This last character is from three years ago.”I swallowed. Another mark against me. “I have been married, ma’am.”She glanced up, taking in my black dress, my widow’s cap, with a quick nod. “A recent loss?”I hesitated. If I told her how recent, she would think ill of me at once. “A little while ago,” I said slowly.That seemed to satisfy her. “You play the pianoforte, of course?”“Yes.”“French? German? Latin?”“Proficient in all, ma’am.”“You can teach mathematics and the sciences as well as reading and writing?”“Certainly.”She glanced back down at her desk. “I see you have some trouble hearing.”“None that has ever caused me difficulty, ma’am,” I said at once. “I cannot hear in my left ear, but my right is very good. You will see, I think, that my former mistress mentions it only to note how little it affected my abilities.”Once more she nodded, and I shifted uneasily in my chair. I needed work. I needed something. I had lost positions before because of my bad ear. Some mistresses caught word my hearing wasn’t perfect and decided another woman would be more suitable for their child.“That won’t be a problem,” she said. “I believe I may have something for you, Mrs. Lennox.”I breathed out. Here was salvation. A life to build. A fresh start. That was a week ago. Characters from my previous employers had been sent, letters had been exchanged, and finally