Chapter 3
Three
“Iwill ask you once more to leave,” Violet said with as much firmness as she could muster. “Do not make me say it again.”
“And as I have explained already, Miss Beaumont, it will make no difference. I am not some goon. I am not here to intimidate. I am merely an emissary, tasked with delivering a message.”
“That message has been heard, and now that it has been, you will leave at once.” She folded her arms and looked warningly upon the man who stood at her front door. “Now!”
The man’s name was Mr. Blackend, and he worked for the bank. He was shorter than Violet, small in the shoulders, and rather plain in the face. There was nothing intimidating about him, but that did not make him any less terrifying. Well, not him so much, but his purpose.
Violet had been expecting him for some time.
A whole week, in fact—the length of which had been spent with a held breath, and such nervousness that she could hardly breathe.
She’d had a growing sense of foreboding that had become a constant companion of hers over the last three years.
So, when he finally did appear, it was almost a relief, as if to get it over with would bring peace and resolve.
The message he delivered was even worse than she imagined.
“I will say it again,” Mr. Blackend said, sounding not so much pleased, but determined. “You have one week. One week to pay what is owed. If such a payment is not made, your home will be forfeited. My employers will then own it, and you will be forced to leave.”
“I heard you the first time,” she snapped. “Now…” She then pointed over his shoulder. “Leave!”
He bowed his head, offered her a final look that she might have misread as pity, and then turned and walked down the driveway. Violet watched him go, keeping her narrowed eyes on him until he turned a corner and was gone.
Only once he was free from sight did she drop her glare, and did she allow the terror to finally take hold. It was like a hand wrapping around her heart, squeezing firmly, there to remind her of what was sure to happen… and that there was nothing she could do about it.
This cannot be real… There must be something…
“Who was that?” The question came from just over Violet’s shoulder.
Violet was quick to straighten her back and stand tall. She was quick to force a smile that she hoped looked sincere. And she was just as quick to prepare her lie. Not one she wanted to tell, but one that she needed to speak.
It was enough that she lived in a constant state of doom and dread, so why burden her sweet sister with the same? Violet’s role was one of protection, and the lies she was forced to tell were all part of that charge.
“It was nobody.” She turned and held that smile for her sister. “A mistaken address.”
Rose Beaumont had just turned seventeen last month. Far taller than Violet, and with hair so light it looked blonde in the sun, she was every inch their mother, while Violet looked more like their father. Blue eyes, a round face and a button nose; her body was slim, while her freckles were many.
Although she was now seventeen, Violet still saw Rose as that scared fourteen-year-old girl whom she had sworn to protect when their father died. She was bright and perceptive; she was wise beyond her years… and she is and always will be my baby sister.
“Is that so?” Rose narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“What are you doing down here?” Violet asked, desperate to change the subject. “I thought you were in your room, reading.”
“I grew bored,” Rose shrugged. “Besides, reading the same book for the fifth time tends to lose its appeal. Rarely does the story change after the first reading.”
“I am sorry…” Violet grimaced. “I meant to try and borrow you another.” They had sold nearly everything in their townhouse, and even the books they owned were limited.
“It is fine,” Rose said. “You have been so busy. In fact, I thought I should speak to you about that.”
“Oh.”
Rose firmed herself up, even squaring her shoulders as if to appear taller and thus in charge. “I am seventeen now, Violet. Almost a woman grown. And with all that we are going through, I think it is time that I find a job so that—”
“No.”
“You did not let me finish!”
“I did not have to,” Violet said. “You are too young to worry about such things, Rose. A girl your age should not be burdened with a job. You should be…” She clicked her tongue. “Outside, playing.”
“Playing?” Rose laughed. “Playing what, exactly? And with whom? I am no longer fourteen, Violet. And I am not so blind that I cannot see what is going on—how we are struggling. Let me help.”
“I said, forget it.” With that said, Violet put down her head and walked past her sister.
The suggestion was a good one—the right one—and Violet was so proud that her sister had made it.
But she was still Violet’s baby sister, and to force her to help…
knowing that no single job could save them…
it was an admittance of defeat, a final nail in the coffin that Violet had tried so desperately to keep open for three years.
There must be a way to save us from this… There must be something I can do…
“You are being unreasonable!” Rose gave chase.
“Unreasonable is the exact opposite of what I am being.” As Violet had nowhere to go, she walked across the small foyer and up the stairs.
The bedrooms were on the second floor, and she might as well go to her own so that she could close the door and end the conversation.
“Reasonable, is what I am being. Reasonable and… and…” She strode up the stairs, reached the top landing, and turned on her sister.
“And firm. You are not working. Not so long as I am here.”
Rose threw up her hands in protest. “I know who was really at the door just now. I am not stupid, Violet. Please, let me help!”
“You can help by not worrying about that which is not your concern,” Violet said to her. “That is all I ask of you, Rose. Please, just… just let me fix this.” With that said, Violet turned and strode down the hallway.
Thankfully, Rose did not continue to give chase. She knew Violet well enough to know how stubborn she could be, just as she knew that there was no point arguing with her once she had her mind made up.
That stubbornness was starting to become a problem.
Rose was right to want to help, and Violet should have been grateful, even proud.
But she was so determined to fix things on her own.
There was always that slim chance that there was something she could do that would not force her burdens onto her younger sister.
There must be something!
Violet rushed into her room and closed the door.
There, she stood, looking about the empty room as her desperation mounted.
There was just a single cot in the room, as all the furniture had long been sold.
Even her clothing, the few dresses that she owned, were kept in a trunk, rather than a closet.
It was a sad state of affairs, one set to become even worse.
Yes, losing the house was one thing, but if that happened, then Rose, who was not yet a woman, would be forced to go and live with their uncle, a man whom Violet did not much like. She would lose her sister… she would lose her home… she would lose everything!
As for what she planned to do about it? If only she had an answer.
It was the third time that week that Rhys had visited the orphanage.
The first time was to inspect the place that he had poured so much money into.
The second time was to try and find a solution to save it—one that was not forthcoming.
And the third time was to confirm a decision that he knew would change his life forever.
“Please, come in, Your Grace.” Miss Wilks stood quickly when Rhys entered her office. She looked flustered, as well as tired. “I was not sure if I would see you again so soon.”
“I hope I am not inconveniencing you,” he said as he took his seat. “I know how busy you must be.”
Miss Wilks sat back down, and her entire body sagged so that she looked even smaller than she already was. “It has been a rather busy few days, and stressful.” She laughed bitterly. “Mostly, it has been spent trying to find homes for the children.”
“Any success?”
“Little,” she said with another depressed sigh.
“The majority of them will be shipped to other orphanages, most of which are in London. I tried to keep the children together, because I know how hard it is to move about and make new friends. Sadly, such things are not possible. Needless to say, the children have not been taking it well.”
It brought Rhys no joy to hear what was happening to the children.
While most would never know it of him, he was far more sentimental than he let on.
And these last few years especially, ever since he had taken a personal interest in the orphanage, he had found that he cared for these children whom he did not know.
He would have liked to have helped all of them, but that simply was not possible. What was possible, and that which he was determined to do, was to help only the one.
To save her, as I was not able to save… Rhys grimaced at the thought, unable to finish it.
“What of Lucy?” he asked Miss Wilks. “Have you given any thought to my request?”
“Ah…” Miss Wilks brightened slightly. “Now, that is a brighter tale that I do not mind telling. I know you wished to adopt her yourself, Your Grace, but you should know that an American family who has just moved to England stopped by yesterday. She was shy around them, of course…” She laughed and shook her head.
“But they were truly taken with her. A young husband and his wife, wishing to start a family of their own.”
It ought to have been good news, yet Rhys was unable to see it as anything but a tragedy.
“Forgive me for saying, Miss Wilks, but surely I am a preferred candidate to a random couple who you do not know?”