14. Chapter 11
Caroline returned home determined to search the library for any hint of mythology about vampires but, Mrs. Thomas intercepted her at the door.
“Miss Evans called for you today. I told her you were volunteering at the hospital and she left a note for you,” the housekeeper said as she held out a small cream envelope.
She missed her best friend. It had been more than a week since they last saw each other, which was the longest they had gone without seeing each other in years.
Typically, they sent letters daily and would get together for tea and gossip a few times a week, but Caroline was so busy she fell behind on their correspondence and hadn’t answered Diya in a few days.
Frankly, it was surprising it took this long for Diya to show up.
“Thank you,” she said, shoving the card in her pocket so she could worry about it later. “You didn’t tell her she could wait for me, did you?”
“No, I told her you would call for her when ready. I let her know you have been quite busy and are under much stress.”
“Thank you,” she said, turning to walk to the staircase.
Caroline had been ignoring Diya because she didn’t know what to tell her about what was going on.
Especially not when the vampire behind it all may be sleeping in one of her guestrooms. So no, it was not the time to have anyone over.
Even if she left before sunset, she wasn’t going to risk her best friend.
“Mr. Hall, the bricklayer, is in the kitchen.”
Caroline stopped and closed her eyes just before she reached the staircase. Her investigation would have to wait after all. Turning back to her housekeeper, it took all her strength to keep a neutral expression on her face.
“And what does he say? Is he able to fix the kitchen hearth?”
Bricks had periodically fallen down the chimney, but the last chimney sweep reported several holes after his last cleaning, so the problem could no longer be ignored.
“No, he wants to speak with you.”
“Are you sure? Cook would be the best to answer any questions. Or even you. I don’t know anything about chimneys or brickwork.”
“He asked for the man of the house, and that’s you.”
For the second time that day she wished she hadn’t sent her father away.
Or that Edgar was there. He really should be the one handling this, as it was his money that would fix it.
With the lack of men in her home, she trudged to the kitchen, sending up a small prayer that it wouldn’t take long at the very least.
Walking into the kitchen, she saw Cook standing at the wooden table in the middle of the room, chopping vegetables and shooting occasional dirty looks to where a man leaned against the brick hearth.
He looked to be a handful of years older than her with light brown hair peaking out beneath a dark wool flat cap.
His clothes were covered in a light dusting of ash, but that wasn’t a surprise if he had been crawling in the hearth.
“Hello,” she said, mustering up all the authority she could. “I presume you are Mr. Hall. My housekeeper said you wished to speak with me.”
“Aye, I got a look at your chimney, and it’s not in the best shape. Lots of missing bricks and whoever built it in the first place took some shortcuts, so the foundation needs work as well.”
All of which sounded so wildly expensive she wanted to cry, but there wasn’t any other choice.
They needed the hearth, not just for cooking meals for the household, but that was where the bread was baked for their tenants, and it heated most of the house since she had been rationing their wood so very few rooms had a fire going.
“Go ahead and complete any necessary repairs. Cook will be able to work around you, and once you’re finished, draw up the bill, and I’ll approve whatever payment.”
“See, that’s why I wanted to speak with the man of the house.”
“I assure you, I’m the one you need to speak with.”
A fire lit within her at the implication that he shouldn’t be speaking with her because she was a woman.
For all intents and purposes, she was the man of the house.
She ran the estate and the leases, kept track of all the household finances, balanced the books, and had even chosen the newest vicar. This was her estate.
“See,” Mr. Hall said, pushing himself from the wall, “I might have never been to Blythe Manor, but I’ve heard of your family up here, and I know you can’t afford these repairs.”
Her breath caught and her face was so hot it felt as if she was on fire from within. She had been handling her family’s money problems for years, but she hadn’t realized it had become gossip. She tried so hard to keep their troubles private, and to know she had failed was a punch to the gut.
“I assure you we have never had an issue paying any craftsmen. You will get every penny you’re owed.”
“So far,” he said, shrugging before putting on a smirk that made her want to scratch his eyes out. “But we all know this house is falling apart and sooner or later, it will be too much to fix it all and I won’t be the one who loses out on a paycheck because you can’t stop buying dresses.”
Her hands clenched to fists at her side. “I don’t know what information you have, but it is incorrect. We can pay this bill. I’m about to get married to one of the most successful businessmen in the area. We don’t need your concern.”
The man laughed. “Yes, your fiancé who’s been missing for days. I’m sure he’s the one you’re desperately trying to get money out of, but I can’t trust that he hasn’t run off with someone else. I’ll do this job as long as I get half the cost right now.”
“That’s absurd,” she said, voice wavering. “No one has that kind of money sitting around. Give me a day or so, and I can get the money.”
Even without the exact number, Caroline knew it was more than she could get her on such short notice. Even only half of the payment would be too much, but she would figure something out. It was what she did best.
“No, I get the money now, or I walk. I don’t trust you have enough to pay even a quarter of the cost now, and I won’t chance not getting paid for my work.”
White-hot rage poured through her even as shame heated her face. Was this what the people in her village truly thought of her? Her tenants? Household staff? Was everyone waiting for her to fail?
“You can ask any member of my staff, and they’ll tell you their wages are always on time and in full.”
Cook’s careful chopping was the only sound to her humiliation.
God, he’d been with her family for as long as she had been alive, but surely he wouldn’t make it through the death rattle that was the end of the estate.
Hopefully when he did leave, he would make it quick. She couldn’t stand a drawn-out goodbye.
“For now, but I’m sure that won’t last much longer.”
“Out,” a deep voice said behind her. “We all know the only reason you’re demanding payment up front is that your work is shoddy. Leave her alone and crawl back to whatever hole you came from.”
Mr. Hall’s face reddened, and he moved towards Cook, but he lifted an eyebrow as he held his sharp knife and the aggrieved bricklayer stalked off instead, muttering things beneath his breath that should have shocked her as a well-bred young woman.
The chopping continued as Caroline just stood in the middle of the kitchen, her feet rooted to the spot even as her eyes burned.
“You didn’t have to defend me,” she finally said softly.
Cook snorted. “I only spoke the truth. The Blythes have always been good employers, and everyone around here knows it. He thought he could intimidate you into giving him the money, but we’d never let anyone get away with that.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. She was touched, but she also couldn’t quite believe it. Loyalty had a cost, and she needed Edgar’s money to keep it all afloat.
“I promise your wages aren’t at risk.”
Caroline would starve before she didn’t pay her staff.
“I know.” Cook shot her the same glare he gave her when she tried to sneak a biscuit before dinner. “You worry too much. Your Mr. Andrews will return soon, and he’ll take care of everything.”
She ground her teeth to keep from snapping at him about the idea Edgar was saving her.
Technically, his money would be her salvation, but it wasn’t as if he would suddenly become integral to running this estate.
Much like her father, he would be more than happy to let her do all the work while he got all of the glory.
Her breaths came in ragged gulps, and she rushed to her room before anyone could witness her fall apart.
Lucy caught her in the hall outside her room, trying to ask about her day, but Caroline snapped at her to leave her before slamming her bedroom door behind her, turning the lock to make it known she wanted to be left alone.
Later, she would feel bad for snapping at Lucy, but for now all she wanted to do was cry.
Her legs gave out halfway between her sitting room and her bed.
It would have been more comfortable, but the desperate, gasping sobs that ripped from her throat told her she wouldn’t be able to move for quite some time.
She had been too successful with locking away her misery, rage, and desperation for too long, and it was all coming out now.
No matter how hard Caroline fought, it didn’t make a difference.
The house was still crumbling. Their accounts were trickling dry, and every crop yield was lighter.
Even with Edgar’s money, there was a chance the estate would still die, but instead of a quick, dignified end, it would hobble through years of misery.
Alternating between hope and devastation before the damned house finally put her out of her misery and collapsed into a heap of splintered wood and broken brick.
She wailed even harder at the thought that she could sell herself to Edgar only to lose everything anyway.
“Cara, what is this?”