Happy Sunday! I hope you've all had or are having a lovely day. My DH and I took our niece and nephew fishing, and it was every bit as boring as I feared. We lasted an hour, before we decided to pack it in and go to the movies. Silly me picked A Quiet Place, which was amazing but also the scariest film I have seen in years. My dreams will be interesting tonight!
Someone asked in a review about the prejudice against red hair, so I had a look for the research articles that inspired that part of this 'reworked' story line. Frustratingly, I couldn't find the specific article I'd used for inspiration that spoke of red hair only being fitting for 'actresses and prostitutes', though there were plenty of articles that mentioned redheads being vilified throughout history. Queen Elizabeth the First's reign saw red hair gain popularity in the 1500s. It became very unpopular during the mid 1800s, the time of the Irish Potato Famine, when England experienced increased migration from Ireland, a population with a much higher than average percentage of redheads (sigh...it seems prejudice against impoverished migrants has always been a thing), but then it gained popularity again at the turn of the 18th century - so, it's had it's ups and downs. :)
xx Elise
~I~
Chapter 8 - The Library
"Miss Brown, you are to clean the library this morning."
Bella's breath hitched at the housekeepers' directive.
A library.
Books.
It had only been a few weeks since she'd left her home, but oh, how Bella missed her books. Attempting to picture the library at Worthington, she refused to allow her thoughts to take her back to the cosy sitting room at Swan Manor. Her grief, when it surfaced, was overwhelming, and she didn't want it to spoil this unexpected opportunity.
"Mike can show you the way," the housekeeper added, putting a dampener on Bella's enthusiasm.
The footman had been hovering, as usual, and took the bucket of cleaning products from her hands. She went to protest, but Mrs Cope gestured for them to move on.
"So, where's your lovely smile?" Mike asked once they were alone in one of the vast corridors.
Bella ducked her head down, loath to encourage him.
"Not in the mood for talking?" He nudged her on the shoulder, taking her stumble as an excuse to put an arm around her shoulder and pull her close to his side.
"Don't do that." She pushed him away.
"Just trying to 'elp." He feigned surprise at her reaction.
"I'm perfectly capable of walking unaided," Bella said crossly before tempering her tone, wary of making another enemy. "But thank you for assisting me."
"Yer very welcome."
"How much further to the library?" She hunched her shoulders, disliking the way he kept staring at her chest.
"Why? Eager to get me alone so ye can 'ave yer wicked way with me?" He waggled his eyebrows in an odd manner.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Oh, come on! A gorgeous creature like ye out in the world on yer own? Don't tell me yer innocent. Most serving lasses 'ave been tumbled and rolled umpteen times by the time they're yer age."
Mike's words reminded Bella of the lewd comments she had heard on the journey from Forkton. She should have insisted Leah enlighten her as to their full meaning or asked Jessica to explain when Angela wasn't around to be distressed by the topic. All she knew was a lady's reputation could be irreversibly damaged if she were to engage in lascivious behaviour, but what exactly that entailed was still a mystery.
Well, maybe not a complete mystery.
Her cheeks warmed as she recalled the way she had felt when Edward stood close to her in the hallway, as if butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. And even though it had come at the cost of a sizeable headache, she would not have foregone the chance to be held in his arms.
"Here we are, Miss Bella." Mike made a sweeping bow, gesturing for her to precede him through the door into the library.
Keeping her distance, Bella walked inside before stumbling to a halt. Leather-bound books housed in dark mahogany shelving stretched along the walls of the vast room, three stories high, with sliding ladders to access the upper shelves. Comfortable chairs were grouped around the room, offering enough seating for at least twenty people. Velvet curtains and rich, patterned carpeting created a surprisingly cosy feel to a room of palatial proportions.
"Heavens above," she whispered.
"It's something, ain't it?" Mike scanned the room before closing the door behind them. "Not that I'm overly interested in books meself. I don't 'ave much time for readin' and the like. More a man of action, that's me."
His words barely registered, unable to compete with Bella's absorption in the wonders around her. That changed when he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her back against the nearest row of shelving.
"Mike, no!"
"Ah, come on. A luscious redhead like yerself? Ye know ye want it."
Gripping her chin, he attempted to force a kiss, while one of his thighs pushed between her legs. Her strength no match for the footman, she struggled to free herself, panic rising in her chest.
"No!" she cried again, feeling utterly helpless, but then the advice Jacob had given her before she had departed Worthy surfaced in her mind.
"I'm sure ye'll be perfectly safe working in the Duke's home," he had said. "But if ye should be subjected to an unwelcome advance, there are actions ye can take to, er . . . discourage a man."
Bella had thought the possibility unlikely but had stored his odd instructions away nonetheless. Letting herself go limp, she sagged against Mike's body. When he stepped back to see if she'd fainted, she brought her knee up between his legs as hard as she could, following with an elbow to his stomach.
The elbow was probably unnecessary.
The impertinent footman collapsed in a heap, cupping his private area with his hands and howling like a hound that had captured the scent of a fox. To Bella's acute embarrassment, Jacob had assured her this was an extremely vulnerable location on a man, but she hadn't expected Mike to respond quite so dramatically to her blow. When a couple of minutes passed, and he continued to writhe and moan, she began to worry she had done him irreparable harm. Seeking help, she raced from the room and straight into the arms of Mr Henson.
"Who's making that dreadful ruckus?" The butler caught Bella by the elbow and directed her back into the library.
"Oh, it's like that, is it?" Letting her go, he reached down to haul Mike up by the collar of his shirt. "That'll teach ye to leave the lasses alone. Ye'll be lucky to avoid a horse-whipping when His Grace hears about this. Ye know his views about harassing unwilling girls."
Mike groaned a garbled protest as he stumbled from the room, a shove in the middle of his back from the butler sending him on his way.
"Are you all right, lass?" Mr Henson asked, turning to face her.
"Yes, sir. I don't know why he thought he could . . ." Bella gripped her hands together to stop them from shaking.
"Don't fret. I was a bit worried you'd be trouble, but you've done naught to provoke the men. You can't help your looks or the delusions that fill a feckless young man's head. Mind you, seems like you can handle yourself well enough." He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Do you need some time to collect yourself, or will you be right to continue?"
"I shall be fine, thank you, sir."
"Very well then, but do let me know if any of the others give you trouble. We pride ourselves at Worthington Hall on providing a safe environment for the staff. His Grace wouldn't have it any other way."
With a final nod, Mr Henson left the library, leaving Bella to collect the discarded cleaning utensils with hands that shook.
Her work was almost finished when she heard a noise.
"Mike, is that you?"
The footman had seemed cowed after she had struck him with her knee, but she doubted she would get the opportunity to best him the Same way twice.
"If that's you, Mike, you'd better stay away from me, or I shall give you some more punishment." The tremor in her voice undermined her forceful tone, so she raised her voice. "I mean it! I don't want you touching me or kissing me. Just leave me alone."
Catching a movement to her right, Bella turned to see Edward stepping forward from a shadowed doorway.
"Oh, it's you." He didn't return her smile, and lowering her head, she quickly dropped a curtsy.
"I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to disturb you." Peering up through her lashes she saw him stalking towards her. Her stomach lurched, as she wondered if he had discovered her link with his friend, Lord Hunter. As he came closer, she saw he was limping slightly, the more likely cause of his annoyance. He must regret putting himself at risk over a mere servant.
Twice in the same morning, Bella found herself crowded against the wall. When Edward reached a hand towards her, she flinched.
He froze, a crease appearing between his brows. "You think I would strike you?"
"No." She shook her head, looking up at him warily. "It's just you're so angry with me."
"Why would I be angry with you?"
"Because of your leg. If you hadn't come to my rescue you'd not have been injured."
"I told you it was nothing, the injury well worth the price of your safety."
Bella forced herself to keep still as he reached for a strand of hair that had come loose during her tussle with Mike. After tucking it back into the bun at her nape, he trailed his fingers down the side of her neck, her skin tingling at his touch.
"The 'Mike' you were threatening, is he the footman who's been shadowing you?"
She nodded.
"It's not hard to guess his transgression, but I'm curious. How exactly did you punish him?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.
"Bella?" he prompted, and she started out of her reverie. He really was quite wonderful to look at.
"Um, well, you see, I remembered something a friend of mine told me about protecting myself from an unwanted advance, and I raised my knee up and hit him in . . ." Unable to put the events into words, she demonstrated, coming close to striking Edward the way she had Mike. Wincing, he stepped back, and Bella covered her face with her hands.
"So, you do have hidden talents. I shall have to keep that in mind."
Peeking at him from between her fingers, she was relieved to see the humour in his expression. "I'm so sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to . . ."
"No need for apology." He took hold of her hands, rubbing his thumbs softly over her knuckles. "I'm glad you were able to defend yourself, though it should not have been necessary." His tone hardened. "You won't have to worry about the footman bothering you again. He'll be gone by nightfall."
Already in poor form with Jessica, Bella was concerned Edward taking such an action would be to her detriment.
"Please, don't dismiss Mike on my account," she asked. "It was just a misunderstanding, as he thought I was someone I'm not. I mean, I am a serving girl, of course, but not like the ones he's used to. I'm unaccustomed to the way things are done, as I have only recently come into service."
Edward's grip on her hands tightened. "You are defending him? Why? Did you invite his attentions and then change your mind?"
"No! I didn't want him to touch me, but he wouldn't listen."
Tears flooded Bella's eyes, and Edward's expression softened.
"It's all right, I believe you," he said, leading her to a nearby grouping of chairs. "Come, sit, and tell me why you are new to service. Where is your family?"
"My father managed the inn where I worked, but when he died, I was forced to leave," she said, before adding the details she had thought of that would hopefully improve the plausibility of her tale. "During the war, he served under your father, and spoke very highly of His Grace. He said if anything happened, I should come to Worthington Hall and seek employment."
Edward studied her intently, one elegantly-clad leg crossed over the other.
"Did your father say why you should make the journey from . . . where exactly did you say?"
Bella struggled to recall if she had given Mrs Cope a specific location. She dared not say she was from Forkton or any of the surrounding locales, so she picked the town she had stayed in with her father when they went on a trip to the seaside the summer after her mother died.
"Mayverton. I came from Mayverton."
"That's quite a journey. You undertook it alone?"
"Some friends accompanied me on their way to visit relatives further north."
Edward nodded thoughtfully. "There's no way you would have made it this far otherwise."
"No, indeed," she muttered.
"I'm curious about your accent," he continued, his expression reminding Bella of her tabby cat when he was stalking a mouse. "It doesn't fit the locale you mentioned or any other that I know of."
"My mother was French," she said then winced, unsure if Lord Hunter would know that about her. "She was from a good family and insisted I receive an education."
"Your mother." Edward remained silent for a moment. "She wouldn't have fled Paris around the time of the Terror by any chance?"
The room spun, and Bella clutched the arms of her chair, fearing he knew she was the young woman Lord Hunter was searching for and was merely toying with her.
"It's all right. You have nothing to fear." Edward knelt beside her chair and steadied her with a hand to her shoulder. Studying her intently, he traced the line of her jaw before trailing his fingers down the length of her arm. "Although it certainly explains a few things. Your delicate bone structure and soft, flawless skin for one."
He stroked the back of her hand, and Bella shivered.
"Did your mother tell you much of her heritage?"
"She didn't like to speak of it," she said truthfully. The Terror had come when her mother was barely in her teens. She had lost her parents and most of her relatives to the guillotine and been forced to flee with only a few faithful family retainers to protect her.
"Understandable." Edward's expression sobered. "And your father, the solider? Good English working-class stock, I suppose. He must have been an exceptional man to capture her attention."
Bella nodded, relieved. While Edward had come close to the truth, he had fortunately interpreted the information she'd given him through the filter of the role she was playing.
"And so here we have the lovely Bella. A sweet little commoner with the grace and beauty of a budding debutante. What an enticing contradiction you present."
After drawing in a ragged breath, she licked her suddenly dry lips. With his gaze focused on her mouth, he leaned in so close they were almost touching. Almost kissing.
"Bloody hell."
Pushing himself to his feet, Edward strode a few paces before halting.
"I don't know if you have any idea how much I want you." He huffed a feeble laugh before turning to face her. "But my giving in to temptation would rather defeat the purpose of you having travelled all this way to find safety. Keeping my distance is the only option."
Bella rose slowly from the chair.
"Would you like me to leave? I have not yet finished cleaning the library, but I can come back later."
"No, I shall leave, but I don't want you working alone in future, is that clear?"
Her mouth fell open.
"That's hardly necessary, my lord. I am quite capable of staying away from you and have no need of supervision."
Edward took a step towards her. "You will not work alone for your own protection. I will stay away from you."
With that he turned and stalked from the library, leaving Bella staring after him, thoroughly confused.
~I~
Good old Edward. It doesn't seem to matter what the era, he ends up saying he'll stay away for Bella's protection . . . and then failing spectacularly!
Thank you so much to those of you taking the time to review. And thank you so much for those of you who have bought this story on Amazon as well as reading it here. If any of you feel inclined to leave a review there also, I'd be very grateful. :)
xx Elise
