Chapter Three #2
“Then you have come to the right place.” She nodded to her housekeeper, who then moved to close the front door, shutting out the wind and the rain. “What might your business be here at such a late hour?” she asked.
“My business is to move in. Villa De Lacey is my new home.” He drew the deed out of his breast pocket and presented it to the young lady.
She hesitated before taking it with a slightly trembling hand.
She held it next to her lantern and scanned the deed but seemed to do more for show than anything else.
“I see,” she said, returning the deed to Nate.
“Well, then, you’d best make yourself at home.
I hope you won’t see fit to turn me and my aunt out tonight.
We didn’t realize you’d be coming quite so soon.
We are still digesting the news of my father’s death. ”
Nate swallowed. Damn Edward. He hadn’t said anything about the house still being occupied, and by the deceased gentleman’s daughter, no less.
“No, of course not, Miss…”
“De Lacey,” she supplied.
“Of course.” He nodded.
“Good. Then we can discuss the situation in the morning. In the meantime, Eliza will take care of all your needs.”
She was trying to be strong, but Nate heard the tremble in her voice, and it made him feel like a criminal. Her father had taken his own life, for goodness’ sake! And now she was to be thrown out of her home. Damn Edward. Damn him to the devil!
“Good evening, sir,” Miss De Lacey said, and before Nate could respond, she’d turned and hurried back up the stairs.
*
Bridget dashed to her room, barely able to hold back her tears before she closed the door behind her.
Once she was safely ensconced, the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
Sensing her distress, Bijou jumped off his bed cushion and ran to her.
She set her lantern onto her writing desk and scooped the little dog up in her arms, pressing him to her chest for comfort.
She had known that the new owner would be arriving one day, but she didn’t think he would be coming so soon.
The notion enraged her. How dare he? Her dear papa was only two months gone!
Still, she’d been foolish not to prepare.
Or maybe she’d avoided doing so because the thought of leaving Villa De Lacey was unbearable.
Where would she and Aunt Marianne go? They’d been too busy burying and mourning Papa to think about that awful Squires.
She sat on her bed, setting Bijou down next to her, and wept until it felt as though she’d used up all her tears.
The terrier jumped onto her lap and licked her, trying to comfort her.
She held him, kissed his head, and whispered, “All is well, my love. I feel much better.”
The gesture calmed him, and when she put him back down, he curled up next to her contentedly.
Bridget smiled at the pup. How wonderful to be a little dog with no worries in the world.
She shook her head and then inhaled deeply.
I mustn’t fall apart now. There has to be a solution.
All I need to do is calm down and think.
Bridget bent to unlace and remove her boots.
Then she stood and paced the length of her room in her stockinged feet, enjoying the feel of the plush cream carpet.
Tomorrow, she’d have to speak with Squires—was he a Mr. or a lord?
She frowned. It would be important to address him correctly.
Didn’t Magistrate Hunt say something about him being an earl?
And if he was an earl, surely he wouldn’t want to live at Villa De Lacey.
Perhaps he would allow her and Aunt Marianne to take care of the place for him. She bit her lip.
But he likely had servants to do his bidding.
The servants! Oh dear! I haven’t prepared them for this.
They will lose their livelihood unless I do something.
I must do something! Especially for Cook and dear Eliza.
Villa De Lacey has been Eliza’s home for one-and-twenty years and Cook’s even longer than that!
She walked to her dressing table and picked up a miniature portrait of her papa.
His kind blue eyes looked back at her just as they had done in real life.
What’s the matter, my princess? Don’t cry.
All will be well. There is no problem too big for you to solve.
You are such a clever young lady. You’ll think of something.
The words Papa had used so many times to comfort her echoed in her mind.
Oh, Papa. She kissed the portrait and pressed it to her heart. Why did you leave us? Why didn’t you talk to me? I would have helped you. We could have solved any problems we had together. A fresh tear slid down her cheek.
Placing the portrait back on her desk, she caught sight of her brand-new copy of William Wordsworth’s guide to the lakes. It had been a gift from her papa before he’d left for London—the last time she’d seen him. She caressed the leather volume, picked it up, and flipped through its pages.
“Do you know, my dear, that Wordsworth has made our little part of the world quite famous? Rich Londoners cannot get enough of his book. I predict they’re going to flock here by the dozens.
The number of visitors we have now is surely going to quadruple.
And our peaceful little slice of heaven will become quite overrun.
It’s a good thing we have so many rooms in which to hide. ”
“So many rooms in which to hide,” Bridget repeated. Then a thought struck her, and she felt her heart lift. “I know just what to do, Papa!” she said aloud. “I know how to save our home!”