Chapter 4 #2
She thought of Catherine who had lived in that cottage for almost forty years. Perhaps that was long enough to transform compulsion into something that felt like choice.
She would find out.
She signed. “So it is all mine now?”
“It is.”
“And I can do with it what I will?”
He frowned and hesitated before offering a nod. “With your quarterly allowance, yes. With the principal, not for a year, yet.”
“Yes, I understand. Can you please summon Miss Dorsey from the outer office?”
His brows rose, but he did as she bid. Once Kitty was seated, Minerva looked at her and said, “I am going to Cornwall.”
Kitty grinned. “Wherever you go, I go. Cornwall or Calcutta or the bottom of the sea. That is simply how it is.”
Something loosened in Minerva’s chest, a tightness that had knotted behind her breastbone since Mr. Granger had said, permanently. For the duration of your life.
Minerva looked at Mr. Granger. “I’d like to ensure that Miss Dorsey receives a portion of those quarterly funds as a direct payment. For the entirety of her life.”
“What? No,” Kitty cried at the same time Mr. Granger said, “I beg your pardon?”
Minerva steeled her resolve, clasping her hands together so the solicitor would not notice their trembling.
Her courage was a fragile thing, easily bruised, yet she held it fast. “Miss Dorsey is leaving Mrs. Barlow’s employ to accompany me to Cornwall.
Her income is forfeit. She will need to replace it. ”
“Hence your decision to settle a quarterly allowance on her,” Mr. Granger said with a slow nod.
“No—” Kitty said.
“Yes,” Minerva said. “If you must come to me for every coin you wish to spend, tension will inevitably arise and our friendship might suffer. I love you too much to lose you. There is enough here for us both. What I intend to settle on you will not alter the course of my life, but it will offer you some small security.” Minerva paused and then whispered, “Found sisters. My sister in all but blood.”
Still Kitty shook her head. Minerva took Kitty’s hand between both of her own. “I’ll not be gainsaid.” She looked to Mr. Granger. “Is it legally possible for me to settle these funds on Miss Dorsey?”
“I must point out the irregularity of such a thing,” Mr. Granger said.
“Irregular but not illegal,” Minerva countered.
“Not illegal, no,” the solicitor conceded grudgingly. “I fail to see why you cannot employ her. You should have a companion. A woman’s reputation—”
“What does my reputation matter?” Minerva cut him off, heart pounding, voice low and hoarse. Where had she discovered the temerity to argue? Was it fear that made one a coward, or the refusal to bow to fear that made one brave?
With the tips of her fingers, she slowly tapped her thigh three times and forced herself to continue.
“I am not the girl I was. I am a woman who lives in a room that would horrify those who were once my peers. My dresses are four years out of fashion, and I wear this black bombazine not because I am still in mourning but because I have not the coin to spend on anything new. I work for a paltry wage, sewing dresses in a shop I would not have deigned to frequent prior to my parents’ demise.
And I am proud of it all. Proud that I survived.
” She made a slashing motion. “This is not about my reputation.”
Mr. Granger did not appear offended by her tirade. “Then tell me what this is about.”
“Before my parents died, I had never made a more difficult decision than the color of my dress or whether to add feathers or flowers to my bonnet.” Minerva’s fingers curled around the arms of her chair.
“Then they died and I was alone, completely unprepared to be so. Without a home. Without funds.” She swallowed.
“Without friends. I had a handful of shillings to my name. I took a room in a shabby boarding house. The place was clean enough and quiet, in a neighborhood that was almost respectable.”
“Not quite,” Kitty said.
“Not quite,” Minerva conceded, for it was only the truth. Mr. Granger looked distressed.
“I live there, too. It isn’t so bad,” Kitty said.
He did not look reassured.
“At first, I was terrified every moment of every day and every night,” Minerva said, her voice low.
“I had a permanent lump in my chest, a knot of grief and fear. It took days before I could manage more than a few moments’ sleep at a time, constantly waking confused and afraid in the unfamiliar surroundings. ”
Mr. Granger drew forth his handkerchief and held it out toward her. Minerva dashed at the treacherous tears with the back of her hand and shook her head to decline his offer. Kitty reached over and gave her forearm a squeeze.
“I went to the shops where my mother and I had once been customers. I pleaded for a position only to discover that the smiles and welcome were reserved for those with money to spend. No one would hire me.”
“More the fools, they,” Kitty said. “You can ply a needle with the best of them.”
Minerva smiled. “As can you.”
“Yet you found a position with Mrs. Barlow,” Mr. Granger said.
“I did not. Kitty did. She found me a place with Mrs. Barlow, taught me which streets were safe, how to elude men who stumbled from the pubs, how to survive in a London so foreign from the one I knew. Without her…” Minerva let the words float away.
“I see,” Mr. Granger said, and Minerva thought perhaps he did.
“You have made your arguments and I have made mine,” she said. “I do value your opinion, sir, but to whom does the final decision regarding a settlement for Miss Dorsey belong?”
“To you,” he said without rancor.
“You will draw up the papers?”
“I will.” Mr. Granger gave her a searching look.
“One final piece of business, Miss Ashworth. A local resident, Mr. Dashiell Penrose, has been attempting to buy Cliff Cottage for some years. Mrs. Todd refused him repeatedly, though I do not believe she provided the full explanation as to why. He came this morning to request that I present his offer to you. He had a lecture to attend, astronomy, I believe he said, or he might have stayed and presented it himself.”
“Oh, I wonder if he was the man we met outside,” Kitty said.
Minerva’s heart did a strange little dance. Dashiell Penrose. She had a name for him now, the man with the copper eyes.
Mr. Granger’s brows rose. “You have met him?”
“No,” Minerva said. “He was leaving as we arrived. He stepped out of the way to let us pass. No introductions were made.”
There came a knock at the door. Mr. Granger excused himself for a moment and went to speak with the clerk.
“Mr. Penrose knew who you were,” Kitty said once the solicitor had left the room. “That’s why he looked at you like that.” She sighed. “I thought it was because he wanted…well, never mind.” She made a face. “He only wanted your house.”
“To be sure,” Minerva said, but as she recalled the way he had looked at her, she wasn’t sure at all.