It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of a keen mind must be a funny girl. Add to that the fact that she possessed a rather unattractive independent streak and had a father with nothing to speak of in terms of wealth or title, and Belle Durant was the ideal topic for many afternoon tea time conversations. The only thing to recommend her to polite society was her connection to the wealthiest family in the county, the Fletchers. When Belle was twelve years old, Lady Fletcher heard of her father Maurice's reputation in the village as an artist and commissioned him to paint a portrait of her sixteen year old daughter Prudence, who was about to come out into society. While her father painted, Belle endeared herself to the family, especially Prudence. The two girls became fast friends, and after that, Belle was a frequent fixture at Rosemount Park. When they heard that Maurice struggled to find books to keep up with Belle's appetite for learning, Sir Anthony and Lady Fletcher opened their library to the father and daughter so that Maurice could continue her education, which fostered her creative and inventive spirit. Prudence, to her credit, never became jealous of the affection her parents bestowed upon her friend; like them, she saw that Belle was special and undeserving of the scrutiny to which she often found herself subjected.

Belle rode up the drive to Rosemount Park with her horse Philippe and cart, actually eager to indulge in some gossip with Lady Fletcher and Prudence. The village had been buzzing with the news that Devereux Place had been let at last. Belle had been unable to find out to whom, but as Devereux Place was only three miles from Rosemount Park, she knew Lady Fletcher would know. She directed her horse to the servants' entrance and was greeted by the housekeeper, Mrs. Green. She gave the older woman her usual wave before motioning to the back of her cart. When she was seventeen, Belle invented a device that eliminated the need to wash clothes and other materials by hand. She had wanted a way to contribute to the household income so that the burden didn't fall solely on her father. She had slowly built her clientele and improved her designs over the past four years to the point that she had had to hire two helpers, Agathe and Stanley, to keep up with the workload.

As Belle haul the four baskets' worth of washing to the end of the cart, she heard Mrs. Green fussing, "I do wish you would let the boys do all that. It's not good for a girl like yourself to be doing so much heavy lifting."

"I'm only moving them to the end, Mrs. Green," Belle teased, leaping down from her cart, "and besides, I've read that exercise is good for the body."

Mrs. Green only shook her head in her usual disapproving way before saying, "The Lady and Miss Prudence are having tea with the solicitor's wife. There's a basin in my parlour if you wish to freshen up."

Belle nodded and walked to the front of her cart again as three boys passed her. She grabbed her satchel from its spot on the bench and headed inside. Once inside Mrs. Green's parlour, Belle stood in front of the small mirror, dampened the ends of her fingers, and tried to smooth down the little flyaways of golden brown hair that the ride had loosened. The solicitor's wife Mrs. Morton was a truly odious woman. Whenever Belle spent any period of time in the older woman's presence, she felt as though she were swimming in a pond filled with sewing needles, every word that came out of her mouth pricking Belle to her very core. Removing her apron, she tucked it into her satchel before wetting a small bit of cloth and wiping away the dust from the road. She wouldn't give Mrs. Morton any ammunition if she could help it.

She passed through the kitchen on her way upstairs, receiving waves and greetings from the younger girls but only polite smiles from the older women. Belle could only sigh, having grown used to this sort of reaction. Thankfully the maid that was helping serve tea to the ladies was friendly and escorted her upstairs. As they entered the main floor of the house, Belle smoothed her hands down the front of her blue dress. She paused outside the parlour door as the maid entered, saying, "Ms. Durant, milady."

Belle entered the room to Lady Fletcher and Prudence's twin smiling expressions and Mrs. Morton's usual dour one. Lady Fletcher wore a soft butter yellow dress that seemed to make her dark skin glow while Prudence wore a dress of French lilac. The designs of each dress were simple in comparison to their guest but still seemed finer. Mrs. Morton wore a vertically striped dress that was the color of dirty dish water. The collar of the dress blossomed around her neck with lace accents that made them look like cobwebs in a certain light. Belle stopped to curtsy before saying, "I've delivered your laundry, my lady, and used that special lavender soap you requested."

"Oh, you are an angel!" Lady Fletcher gushed, motioning for Belle to sit down next to Prudence. Turning to Mrs. Morton, she continued, "Belle humors me with all my special requests. Are you sure she can't tempt you with any of her services?"

Mrs. Morton straightened up in her chair and shook her head, saying with a stiff smile, "That is why I have a housekeeper, Lady Fletcher. I see no sense in depriving her of work simply because Ms. Durant here won't find a husband to support her financially."

Belle felt her cheeks and ears burn, and Prudence reached over and squeezed her wrist gently. Licking her lips, Belle said in an even tone, "If only everyone were as lucky as you, Mrs. Morton, to have such an able-bodied housekeeper. Unfortunately, not everyone in the village is, and those are the ones to whom I offer my services."

"Lady Fletcher being the exception," Mrs. Morton insisted with a chortle. "I dare say she employs several able-bodied maids capable of performing the same tasks as you."

Prudence spoke this time, Belle quickly losing her patience and temper. She clenched her jaw tight as Prudence said, "You know how particular Mama can be, Mrs. Morton. Belle is more willing to constantly change her routine more readily than Mrs. Green and her girls."

"I should think that as Lady Fletcher is their employer, they would be willing, nay obligated, to alter their routine to suit her needs," Mrs. Morton said before reaching for her tea.

Lady Fletcher seized that momentary pause, saying a little too brightly, "Prudence, I see that Belle has her satchel with her! Perhaps you'd like to take her to the library?"

Both girls nodded and leapt up from the couch, Belle curtsying hastily once more before following Prudence out of the room. They waited until they were inside the library before Belle let out a groan of frustration and leaned against the door, saying, "Your mother is a saint! I don't know how much longer I could have lasted!"

Prudence hunkered over as she giggled. After a moment, she straightened up and reached out to grasp Belle's shoulder, gasping, "I am...so sorry, Belle. That woman's hatred of you seems unending!"

"No one can quite hold a grudge like Mrs. Morton," Belle grumbled, giving her friend a half-hearted smile. Prudence's face fell and her giggling ceased as Belle pushed off the door and walked to the large table in the center of the room. When she was sixteen, Belle received a proposal from Thomas, Mrs. Morton's son. Belle turned him down, and while Thomas took it rather well and eventually married one of the baker's three daughters, Mrs. Morton took it as a grievous insult. She tried to blacken Belle's name in the village, calling her proud and possessed with ideals far above her station in life. Belle asked Lady Fletcher to intervene, as she had almost completed work on her laundering device and the village was her main source of potential income. Lady Fletcher stepped up and hosted Thomas's wedding to Angelica at Rosemount Park. The event was all anyone in the village talked about, before or after, and his previous proposal to Belle was all but forgotten. Mrs. Morton stopped denigrating Belle in the village, contenting herself with pointed comments whenever they interacted.

As Belle unloaded the books she had borrowed, Prudence came up alongside her, saying, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed. I just swept up on how ridiculous her behavior can be at times."

"There's no need to apologize," Belle insisted, reaching out to squeeze her friend's hand. "I think the reason she still holds a grudge so fiercely is that her daughter-in-law is lacking any substance whatsoever. I've heard her say on several occasions how she can't abide useless people, and Angelica is the very definition of the phrase."

Prudence's eyes widen and she choked back a laugh. "I swear, Belle! That sharp tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble one day! But enough about Mrs. Morton. Let's talk about Devereux Place!"

Belle turned to face her friend, asking excitedly, "Who's the new occupant? I must have heard half a dozen theories as I dropped off loads today!"

"It's Louis D'Meir!"

Belle's eyebrows shot up. "The Louis D'Meir? The Mr. D'Meir that you met last season while in London and have talked of nothing else since then? The Mr. D'Meir who is more handsome than Adonis himself? That gentleman?"

"The very same!" Prudence giggled, her lovely caramel cheeks flushing with excitement. "As you know, he's been exchanging letters with my father since we returned home from-"

"How could I forget?" Belle teased. "You've spoken about their correspondence every time we meet."

"As I was saying," Prudence said, smacking Belle's arm playfully, "he and Papa have been exchanging letters, and in his most recent correspondence, he'd been talking of how he's grown weary of London, how it is so crowded and noisy, and that there is no good sport to be had."

Prudence followed Belle around the library as she replaced the books she had borrowed and searched for new ones, continuing her story. Knowing his daughter's enthusiasm for Mr. D'Meir, he let Prudence dictate a response to show Devereux Place in the best light possible: its ample grounds and surrounding forests perfect for hunting, the village nearby for when he desired company and other diversions, and of course, its relative proximity to Rosemount Park. Mr. D'Meir was effervescent in his reply, saying that it was the solution to all of his woes, that he would begin making arrangements immediately, and that he greatly looked forward to delighting in his daughter's charm, wit, and beauty once again.

"He even promised to bring a single friend or two to liven things up a bit," Prudence finished. Belle looked away from the book she was considered to see the scheming look in her friend's eyes.

"Oh, Prudence," she bemoaned, "please tell me you didn't mention me!"

Prudence ran her fingers along the spines of the books. "I may have had Papa mention a dear friend of the family that we wanted to see happy and in love as she deserved."

Belle rolled her eyes and walked away. She heard Prudence stomp her foot lightly, insisting, "It's true! What's the point of reading all those great romances if you never let yourself live them? I know you value your independence, but who says you can't have that and love as well?"

The two girls fell into an awkward silence and after a while, Belle sighed and paused in her search. She knew Prudence meant well and that she was right with her questions. Pushing the book she had been examining back on the shelf, she walked back to her friend, who had sat down on one of the chairs that decorated the room. Belle sat down on the footrest in front of Prudence and said, "I'm sorry. I was just being stubborn. Still friends?"

She saw a smile tug at the corner of Prudence's lips, who crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed, "Perhaps."

Grinning at her friend's silliness, Belle heaved a great sigh and asked, "What if I said I would let you dress me up in whatever outfit you wish for the dance I'm certain your parents are planning to welcome Mr. D'Meir into the neighborhood? Then would I be forgiven?"

Prudence's face broke out into an excited grin, and she reached forward to grasp Belle's hands. "Really? Because I have this dark blue dress I received just a few days ago that I promise you're going to love!"

The clock chimed, denoting the lateness of the hour, so Belle made quick work of making her next selection of books to take home. The two girls met Sir Anthony outside the library, who wore a wide brimmed hat and a tan flapping jacket. Prudence kissed her father's cheek and asked, "Did you have a fruitful afternoon fishing?"

Sir Anthony took off his hat and jacket, handing them to a footman, and said, "Why yes, I did! Caught several large carps which I instructed Mrs. Reynolds to cook for us this evening. Mr. Morton didn't have much luck, so I told him he and his wife were more than welcome to share in my spoils."

"How gracious of you," Prudence replied, saying a soft goodbye to Belle before rejoining her mother and Mrs. Morton in the parlour.

Sir Anthony turned his attention to Belle, gesturing to the books in her hands and asking, "So Ms. Durant, who are you traveling with this week?"

"A pair of Williams, sir," Belle replied, holding out her selections for him to inspect.

He studied the spines, expressing his love for Blake before exclaiming, "Much Ado About Nothing again, my dear? With as many times as you've read it, I would have thought you'd have had it memorized by now."

"It's my favorite!" Belle gushed, taking back the books and tucking them into her satchel. "The relationship of Benedick and Beatrice... they loathe each other in the beginning of the play before realizing just how much they have in common and in the end, admit to themselves and each other that they're in love! It's magic!"

Sir Anthony smiled. "Well, if you truly enjoy it that much, consider yours. No need to return it."

Belle thanked him over and over again before heading back downstairs to her cart. Mrs. Green gave her the payment for the laundering in the form of a giant basket, full of one wheel of cheese, three loaves of different breads, potatoes, carrots, and two roasted chickens. Belle set it and her satchel in the cart before clicking her tongue and steering her horse the way home. The tiny cottage she and her father called home was an even distance from both the village and Rosemount Park. Her father had bought it from Sir Anthony when she was just a babe and he had returned to England from France after losing her mother in childbirth. When he couldn't make a living off his art, he would fall back on his second passion of tinkering and repair various things in the village. Until their friendship with the Fletchers, it had always been just the two of them, her father preferring not to remarry. When Belle's laundering venture began to take off, he started to going into town less and less, with Belle simply bringing him the village's assorted collection of broken watches, clocks, and the like. He would attend social functions for Belle's sake, but he had gained a reputation similar to his daughter's of being odd and reclusive.

Belle arrived at the cottage just as the sun had begun to sink into the horizon. Agathe come out to greet her, wiping her hands on her roughspun apron. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked up at Belle and said, "Didn't think we'd see you before nightfall, my dear."

Belle climbed down and hugged her, saying, "The gossip was good but not good enough for me to forget about home. Where's Stanley? We'll need help unloading all this if we're to eat dinner at a decent hour."

The man in question came from inside the house. "Asking after me, mam?"

Belle laughed and climbed back into the cart, handing them baskets full of traded goods for the laundering services. Those that could afford it paid in coin, but Belle had determined long ago not to turn away food and the like when it was offered. Both Agathe and Stanley lived at the cottage, Agathe sharing a room with Belle and Stanley sleeping in a cozy crawl space in the barn he organized for himself to better look after the horses and laundering devices. Agathe had left the service of a noble house a few towns over when the lord's son tried to force himself on her. Having no family to speak of and no house willing to hire her, she become a beggar. When she had wandered into the village, Belle took her home that day and Maurice told her to stay as long as she needed. Agathe didn't speak beyond perfunctory responses to questions, and neither Maurice or Belle pushed her to, so for the first week after being taken in, she simply slept and eat. Once she had built up her strength, she finally told Maurice and Belle her story. After hearing the woman's sad tale, her father offered to speak on her behalf to the Fletchers, whom he assured her would be happy to provide her with employment without the threat of assault. Agathe thanked him but stated that she didn't want to be confined to another house again. Belle then offered her a job working for her laundering service. After letting Agathe observe her for a day, the woman eagerly accepted and had been with them ever since.

Stanley came on shortly after Agathe, as a favor to his mother, Mrs. Dwiggins. He came from a farm and was the oldest of ten children. But he had suffered an accident as a child and ended up with a lame arm. His father was a hard man who had no use for a son he saw as lesser, but Stanley grew up with a thirst to prove himself useful. When Mrs. Dwiggins heard through a friend that Belle had been making inquiries about help with her business, the older woman wrote her a letter immediately. Belle traveled the Dwiggins family farm for tea and listened to the mother's impassioned plea for her son. After meeting with Stanley and explaining the work that would be involved, he accepted the job and packed up his meager belonging, heading back to the cottage with Belle that very same day. He was a delight to be around and worked just as hard as Belle and Agathe, waking up before everyone else to ready the barn for that day's work. He rode home every Sunday to visit his family and give his mother a portion of his earnings to help out the large family.

Belle held up the basket from Rosemount Park and announced, "Lady Fletcher gave us two roasted chickens. Between everything in this basket and the strawberry tart Mrs. Hamilton gave us, we shall eat like kings and queens tonight!"

"I love roasted chicken!" Stanley cheered, emerging again from the cottage after taking in a final load. "My mum used to make it every year for my birthday."

Agathe took the basket from Belle, adding, "The carcesses will be an excellent base for a soup stock as well. I think we might still have some onions in the garden."

She headed inside while Belle and Stanley led the cart to the barn. Stanley had already put away the equipment and horses for the day and while he unloaded the washing for the next day, Belle unhitched Philippe, led him into his stall, and brushed his coat. He was her favorite of all the horses, as she had raised him from a tiny colt. Once she finished, she fished out the carrot she had tucked away and fed it to him. She kissed his forehead and whispered, "Good night, my friend.

Inside the cottage, Agathe was busy preparing that evening's dinner while Belle's father was looking over the post delivered earlier that day. As he spent the majority of the day in his small studio, he preferred to read letters and the paper in the evenings. Belle moved to his side, kissing his scruffy cheek and sitting down at the table next to him. He gave her his usual distracted smile, asking, "How are things at Rosemount? I'm to understand there was a big to-do in the village about a beau of Prudence's coming to stay at Devereux."

Belle's jaw dropped. "How did you find out? I didn't learn all the details until I spoke with Prudence directly!"

Her father tapped the end of her nose playfully. "Your old papa still has some tricks up his sleeve, my dear. Now...tell me all about your day; don't leave out a second."

Dinner was simple, as were most evenings in their little cottage. Afterward, Belle helped Agathe clean up, packed a basket of apples, some cheese, a jar of blackberry preserves, and a loaf of bread for Stanley to keep in the barn for his breakfast, and had help from her father organizing the ledger for the laundering business. They both agreed she and Stanley would travel to Devereux Place in the morning to offer their services to its new lord. Her father promised to help Agathe keep up with the washing to be done, as he was almost finished with his latest commission from London. Stanley bid them all a good night and took himself and his basket to the barn. Agathe sat in her little rocking chair by the fire with her basket of mending, another service Belle offered. Belle and her father took turns reading things aloud, to articles from that day's paper to scenes from Much Ado. When Belle let out a yawn in the middle of a line by Beatrice, her father suggested they all retire for the evening. Scrubbing the back of her neck, Belle followed Agathe to their room, each separating into her individual corner. Agathe lit a candle to illuminate the small space while each of them undressed. Belle let down her hair and massaged her scalp with the tips of her fingers. She ran a brush through the loose curls before climbing into bed. The chill of her sheets caused her to shiver, and she curled up onto her side.

"Good night, Agathe," Belle whispered and Agathe replied back just as softly before blowing out the candle.

OOOOO

Adam Lawrence woke with a groan and sat up in the unfamiliar bed, rubbing his aching neck. The opened book lying in his lap told him that he had fallen asleep reading again. Leaning to one side, he tugged on the thick cord that dangled to one side of his headboard. He climbed out of bed, stretching his arms over his head, and walked to one of the windows. He yanked open the curtains and let in the pale light of morning. Louis had been charmed by the roaming hills and trees of the countryside, and Adam could concede there was a quaint beauty to it. He preferred the surroundings of his own estate Villeneuve, but as those close to him often told him, he could not stay there all of the time. Adam had met the Frenchman five years ago only a year after his father had passed away. He had been struggling to restructure Villeneuve after years of mismanagement from himself and his father when Louis sauntered into their lives. Philippa adored Louis and his devil-may-care attitude, and Adam enjoyed having a friend who understood his reclusive tendencies.

There was a knock at his bedroom door and a footman whose name Adam couldn't remember entered. "Good morning, sir. How may I assist you? I'm afraid breakfast isn't-"

"That's fine," Adam said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just send my valet up with some hot coffee, no cream or sugar, and a basin of cold water."

The footman nodded before leaving the room again. He returned to his bed and picked up the book he had been reading last night. Philippa had given it to him before she left to go stay with their grandmother, Violet. She had talked of little else for weeks after reading it and claimed the main character Jane had replaced any previous literary heroines in her eyes. Philippa made him promise that he would read it in exchange for her agreeing to go visit their grandmother in London while he traveled with Louis.

"I thought you liked visiting Granny in London?" Adam asked over dinner the evening before she was to depart.

Philippa nodded, swallowing her mouthful of soup before saying, "I do, but I haven't seen Louis in ages and I love traveling with both of you."

"I just wouldn't want you to be bored," Adam reasoned. "I don't know that there will be any ladies in our party."

"Yes because you will be going to the only village in England without any."

Dinner was rather awkward after that. Later that evening, Philippa came and apologized, saying that she knew that he hadn't been trying to exclude her like before, giving him her copy of Jane Eyre. He apologized as well and promised that her fears were unfounded and that their grandmother truly had been asking for Philippa's company. He told her that he would keep her well informed of Louis's courtship of the lady that currently had his affections.

Another knock at his door pulled his attention from the book. His valet Beckett entered with a small tray, saying, "Good morning, sir. You're up early. Didn't think I'd hear from you for another hour."

Adam closed the book, tossing it back on his bed, as Beckett set the tray on his night stand, Adam replying, "I did had every intention of rising later, but I fell asleep reading again and my neck was not pleased about it."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Beckett replied, pouring him a steaming cup of coffee. Adam took the cup when it was offered as Beckett continued, "I brought up some bread slices and jam as well. Any particular preference on your attire today?"

Beckett picked up the pitcher on the tray and took it to the small washing stand in the corner of the room. As the valet moved about, Adam picked up a slice of bread and, while spreading jam on it, replied, "Something smart, I suppose. I believe we will be calling on the Fletchers today."

"Have you met the lady in question?"

Adam shook his head. "No, but Mr. D'Meir has spoken of little else in his correspondence so I feel as though I know her already."

Beckett paused in preparing the washing stand. "Do you think it's quite serious then?"

"Perhaps," Adam replied, shrugging and finishing off the last of his bread slice. Licking the corner of his mouth, he stood and joined Beckett at the washing stand. Beckett tucked a towel around his neck as Adam continued, "This wouldn't be the first time he has traveled for a girl he's fancied, but something feels different about this one. I suppose I'll have to reserve further judgement until I have actually met her."

Picking up the straight razor, Beckett asked, "Are you keeping the beard, sir? I think your lady grandmother might pay me a few pounds if I were to "accidently" rid you of it."

"No doubt she would!" Adam chuckled. "But either way...yes, I'm keeping it. I've grown rather fond of it, so just the usual maintenance, Beckett."

"Very good, sir."

They fell into a comfortable silence as the valet worked, with Beckett only speaking to give soft instructions. Adam was a person who appreciated such silences. There are nothing he had less patience for than the idle small talk associated with tea times and luncheons. He preferred conversations that had some sort of meaning or purpose, like the running of Villeneuve and its surrounding properties or a novel that he had read recently. Louis and Philippa were the exact opposite with the ability to expound on almost any subject, from the superficial to the serious. Both of them had developed habits of directing conversations toward topics Adam found easy to discuss. That wasn't to say that he relied entirely on them -he was a grown man, after all- and anytime he felt at a loss for words entirely, he would retire to a corner or behind a newspaper. Philippa had told him in the past that some ladies found him to be broody and mysterious in such moments while others just said he was being rude and thought himself to be a cut above the company. Adam would frustrate his little sister no end when he replied that sometimes he was, as he found some of their society friends to be gauche and very tedious.

When Beckett finished, he handed Adam a damp cloth to wipe off his face and neck. They went with a dark blue morning jacket that accented his eyes before Beckett ran a comb through Adam's hair. Completely dressed, Adam retrieved Jane Eyre from its spot on his bed and asked Beckett about the location of the library. Louis had told him in one of his letters that it was supposed to be very impressive, which, Adam replied back, wasn't saying much as a collection of any measurable size would be unusual that far from London. Nevertheless, Adam let himself be convinced as he read between the lines and knew how much his presence met to his friend. He wasn't totally heartless; those days were far behind him.

After instructing Beckett to alert him when breakfast was ready, Adam made his way downstairs to the main floor and took a left. He could hear the faint noises of activity as the staff no doubt prepared the house for its new occupants. After walking down a long hallway, he took another left through a rather ornate-looking door into the library. A squeak told him he was not alone, and he turned toward the noise to see a maid kneeling by the fireplace. Her mouth opened to say something, but Adam cut her off with a wave of his hand, saying, "As you were."

He sat in a chair in a far corner of the room and opened his book once more, returning to the world of Jane Eyre. He was beginning to understand why Philippa was so enraptured by this story. It was certainly leagues ahead of the other Bell brother's offering, Wuthering Heights. So lost in the story was he that he didn't hear Beckett enter the room or say his name the first time. He emerged from the mysteries at Thornfield Hall with a start, causing Beckett to say, "I apologize if I startled you, sir, but you asked me to come get you when breakfast was ready."

Adam nodded and marked his place in the book, standing. "Quite right. Lead the way, Beckett."

Louis and their other traveling companion Albert Cogsworth were already at the table when Adam entered the room. Louis looked to be carrying on a one-sided conversation with Cogsworth, who was reading the morning paper. The Frenchman was dressed in a powder blue jacket with his mousy brown hair in its usual state of casual disarray. He turned toward Adam and said with his usual bright smile, "Good morning, Adam! How did you sleep last night?"

Cogsworth turned down the top of his paper, glaring at Louis. He had on a much plainer jacket as compared to Louis, a simple light gray which accented the silver streaks in his pitch black hair. His frown accentuated his jowly cheeks, making him look like an annoyed bulldog. "Really, D'Meir? Must you be so familiar this early in the morning?"

"What's a little familiarity between friends, my dear Cogsworth?" Louis asked with a grin, winking at Adam. "You English stand on ceremony far too often. You should relax, let your hair down!"

While the two of them bickered, Adam stand down at the table and told the butler Jones what he wanted for his breakfast. By the time Jones had walked away, his companions had stopped arguing enough for Adam to say, "I slept fine for the most part, D'Meir. I fell slept while reading so my neck is a bit sore."

Cogsworth set down his paper and took a bite of eggs, saying after he swallowed, "If it persists, Lawrence, let me know. I have a salve my physician gave me for my joints when they trouble me. Works like a charm! He refilled it for me before I left London when I told him I was visiting the country and would be doing some walking out of doors."

Adam nodded and thanked Jones when he set a plate of food and a cup of hot coffee in front of him. Taking a sip of his coffee, he replied to Cogsworth, "I think I shall survive, but I'll be sure to keep that in mind should I need it. Any news from Town?"

"None as of yet," Cogsworth huffed, picking at his breakfast, "although I expect I shall receive a deluge tomorrow morning. With five children and a worrisome wife, I'm never short of news."

Adam smiled before tucking into his breakfast. Cogsworth talked often as though his family were some great bother, but anyone who spent more than five minutes with the man in the presence of his family could see that he cared a great deal for them. Adam had grown up alongside his children and while the older man -and Adam's grandmother- had failed thus far at attaching Adam to Abigail, the eldest of Cogsworth's four daughters, his only son Brandon seemed quite taken with Adam's sister and Philippa with him. All of the adults involved had decided that, after the trauma of Philippa's previous failed match, they would let things developed at their own pace and gave the young pair ample opportunities to meet and socialize.

"I'm sure Grandmother and Philippa will call on them soon," Adam remarked after a pause. "Philippa told me before she left that she was determined to best Amelia in playing the piano forte."

Cogsworth snorted a laugh. "She faces quite a challenge! Amelia practices day and night. I swear, her mother and I fall asleep and awake to some new composition the girl has acquired."

"That is excellent!" Louis enthused. "Nothing can more beautifully convey the complexities of life than a well-written piece of music. Lady Fletcher and her husband are quite a talented musical duo! Why, I remember a party where Lady Fletcher sang an aria so mournful, I wept like a child! It was exquisite!"

Cogsworth huffed, picking up his paper and saying, "Upon my word, I don't know what to make of you at times, D'Meir! Crying in public...have you no pride at all?"

"Pride crumbles into dust when faced with such a beautiful performance," Louis insisted without a hint of embarrassment.

Cogsworth went back to his newspaper, and Louis turned his attention to Adam and began informing him of their plans for the day. It seems they were to meet up with the Fletchers for a tour of the village and the surrounding area before heading back to Rosemount Park for dinner. Then, at the end of the week, there was to be a dance held in the village hall to properly welcome them to the neighborhood. Adam felt a knot of dread building in his stomach. He detested such gatherings, especially when he was a stranger to everyone attending. Granted, he didn't much care for parties back at Villeneuve, but at least there, he had the advantage of familiar surroundings. His days of recklessly spending his family's money on endless parties with people he didn't care for were behind him.

After breakfast, Adam and Louis decided to take a tour of the grounds while Cogsworth elected to stay indoors. He claimed it was for "important letters of business" to be sent to Town, but the younger men knew the letters were actually meant for his family. But before the two men could go outside, the butler came in to inform them that a young lady from the village had asked to speak with Monsieur D'Mier. Cogsworth excused himself to the library and Adam frowned at receiving a visitor so early in the morning. Louis insisted Martin bring the girl in and turned to Adam, saying, "What a welcoming place, wouldn't you agree?"

Adam simply frowned and gave a noncommittal grunt as Martin brought the visitor into the room. She wore an olive green dress and a white apron with several pockets on it. As she approached them, Adam noted that she carried herself with a self-confidence he'd seen in few other ladies in his acquaintance. Her nose and cheeks were scattered with freckles, and her dark brown eyes held that same confidence as she regarded them. She gave them a little bow, which both men returned, and said, "Good morning to you both. I am Belle Durant, a friend of Miss Prudence Fletcher. I hope I haven't interrupted your morning."

"Not at all!" Louis insisted. "I am happy to receive you, Ms. Durant. I am Louis D'Meir, and this is my companion, Mr. Adam Lawrence. How may we assist you?"

The girl glanced at Adam when he was introduced and Adam inclined his head once again. She returned her gaze to Louis, reaching into one of her apron pockets and pulling out a small envelope. She extended it out to him and said, "I was actually hoping to assist you, sir. I run a laundering service for the village, and when Miss Fletcher told me of your arrival, I thought that I would introduce myself and offer you my services."

Louis took the envelope and gave her a huge grin, saying, "How industrious! I believe Sir Anthony might have mentioned you in one of his letters."

The girl's face beamed with affection and pride and she replied, "Sir Anthony is a dear man if he did. He's been most kind to me and my father. In any case, you'll find a list of all my services as well as the costs of each. I do both bedding and such and more delicate clothing items."

While Louis opened the envelope, Adam spoke up, asking, "I'm curious, Ms. Durant. Why are you making this presentation yourself? Wouldn't your husband be more suitable?"

Her frame stiffened and the smile she had moments before vanished. She clasped both hands in front of her and replied, "I am unmarried, Mr. Lawrence."

Adam pushed. "Your father then-"

"This business is my own, sir," the girl said, cutting him off. "My father doesn't go into the village much, so I started this business to better support us."

By this time, Louis must have noticed the growing tension in the room and he spoke up, saying, "Forgive my friend, Ms. Durant. We rarely encounter such independent spirits such as yourself in our regular circles in London. But I have read your proposal and am very impressed! You may consider me a new customer. Perhaps with a few loads, we can win over Mr. Lawrence."

The girl's posture was still defensive but she looked pleased as she thanked Louis. When she offered to explain her pick-up and delivery schedules, Louis eagerly accepted and sent Martin to fetch the housekeeper, Mrs. Fitz. Adam excused himself, telling Louis that he would be in the library when they finished. He glanced once more at the girl before he left the room, but she was distracted by further explaining her business to his friend. He thought about apologizing for possibly offending her, but given her abruptness and the defensiveness of her reply, he thought better of it and just left. It wasn't as though he had been making any unreasonable inquiries, he reasoned with himself as he walked down the long hall. Women didn't just start their own businesses, especially ones who were still young and single. If all a woman did was work, how was she to find a husband who could properly support her? As he entered the library and received a distracted greeting from Cogsworth, he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the poor girl. She had said that her father didn't go into town much, which obviously meant he was feeble in some way. That sense of familial obligation must have been why she remained unmarried and why she held Sir Anthony in such high regard. He must be a welcomed respite from whatever hardships her father offered at home. Adam huffed as he sat down in a chair by the fireplace, thinking dismissively that, whatever the reason behind her actions, there was no excuse for being so rude to a perfect stranger. Whether her father was feeble or a drunkard, she couldn't expect people not to ask questions about her situation. Putting the funny girl out of his mind, he reopened Jane Eyre and lost himself once again in the story.