Scarlett Meadows, April 1899
Amelia was growing increasingly concerned by the hour. She knew her uncle was hardly the punctual sort, but he was supposed to arrive three days ago with the security he had promised.
Every sound of a hammer on a nail, a horse's neigh, or a drop of a fork, sent her heart into a frenzy, thinking that the men had returned to shoot down her estate and make way with her horses. Either that or her father.
She tried to push those thoughts to the side and concentrate on the ledger before her, knowing that dwelling on things that simply may never happen was an utter waste of her energy.
Still, it did not help quell her mind from either the robbery or that somehow her father knew where she was. The thought was enough to make her skin crawl as she felt her breath hitch in her chest. She hoped the day would give her some distraction, rather than allowing her mind to wander where it should not venture.
The sun crept through the curtains, sending shadows along the wooden floorboards as she began the tedious task of checking each number. It was a slow process, yet she kept at it nevertheless. Amelia, ever cautious and vigilant, continued to check every number before her whilst calculating the sums in her head.
She tried time and time again to do the mental arithmetic and yet somehow her mind continued to fail her. She had grown so distracted since the attempted robbery, so much so that even trying to complete the most basic of tasks seemed like a harrowing exercise.
She cursed Josiah in her mind, wishing that for once that he would take something seriously. Amelia knew she was being unkind, but damn him. More and more as the years went by, he grew more unreliable and her far more cynical.
Within the next month, she would be turning twenty-eight, more than a reasonable adult, a woman with her own enterprise, yet the only thing she wanted was the comfort of the uncle's words and to not be let down by him yet again.
Her eyes were starting to glaze over from tiredness and a gentle purr on the side of her temple was making its presence felt.
She knew she was being unfair, regardless of how she felt. She was scared and exhausted, not just from the weeks prior, but from the world around her. The attack had frightened both her uncle and her. She had no idea where the thieves had come from, but the fact that she had fallen victim was all too real, all too vivid in her memory. And that was without the thinly veiled threats of Cornwall's men.
The knock on the door nearly caused Amelia to fall from her seat, even though she pretended that it was because she was distracted by the ledgers in front of her.
'Enter,' she managed to address, taking a large sip of whiskey, hoping that it would calm her somewhat.
'It's your uncle, ma'am,' Mr Jameson spoke, and he stepped through the threshold. 'He has been seated with your guests in the parlour.'
Amelia's eyebrows raised slightly before she leaned back into her chair. Finally, she sighed to herself, feeling as though the growing spring heat has finally abandoned her.
'Thank you, Mr Jameson. Please tell them I will be down in a moment.'
With a nod of acknowledgement, he left the study, closing the door behind him. Amelia would certainly need a moment as she poured herself another large drink and raised it with shaking hands to her lips. It was probably not the best idea to attend to her audience three drinks in, but as the liquor burned down her throat; she needed something to help her focus.
It was a dreadful idea, for the room suddenly felt smaller than usual and the air grew even thicker. The heat behind her eyes crept up much more quickly than she thought it would, although it was hardly unsurprising.
Standing slowly, with a meagre attempt to gauge her state, she fluffed down her dark green fan skirt that had seemed to crumple around the back of her legs from her seating arrangement.
Pulling her hand mirror from the drawer of the desk, she inspected her face, ensuring that she did not look as cockeyed as she felt. Looking much more presentable than she had given herself credit for, she made her way downstairs. Gripping on for dear life to the curved bannister, she took each step gently in a desperate effort to compose herself.
Taking the stairs one at a time, she walked lightly over each step. By the time she reached the marbled entrance hall, she took one last deep breath, allowing the usual air of confidence that the dark brown liquid gave her to consume her mind.
Straightening her back, she tried her very best to appear as though nothing was amiss. If Mr Yates, who stood by the double doors guarding the parlour, noticed anything awry, he made no indication as he simply nodded and opened the door on her behalf.
She entered the room, which was by all measure, her least favourite in the house. Since she spent so little time in there, she never paid much mind to the sickly floral wallpaper, overly fringed seating, and palm ferns wherever she looked.
Within the room sat her uncle, as expected, sitting in the armchair, which was hardly unbecoming of him whilst two other men occupied the double seat opposite Josiah and faced the far wall. Mr Jameson had already taken station behind an empty armchair in the manner of a docile floor lamp.
'Apologies for my delay,' she announced with enough clarity it even surprised herself. 'There was a matter that required my attention.'
Her step was replaced with her usual confidence, unlike what she had felt moments before. Her shoes clipped softly on the wooden floor as she announced herself.
As she spoke into the room, the two guests, one clearly much older than the other, turned over their shoulders to look at her. Standing promptly, they clearly already had drinks in hand. At the very least, Amelia could always rely on her uncle to retain the appropriate etiquette for any guests. It wouldn't do to have the social standing of the house compromised, she supposed.
Striding towards them with a slight side-eye, she stood in the centre and turned herself to face the two guests. Holding out her hand in a gesture of introduction, the silver-haired man took it promptly with a more formal shake than she expected.
'Mr Hosea Matthews, ma'am' he said, placing his free hand on his chest and then gesturing to the man behind him, 'and this is my colleague Mr Morgan.'
She smiled, her blue eyes fixed on both of them. Although both their faces were lined and weathered, when up close, both looked somewhat younger than she initially thought.
'A pleasure,' Amelia commented, smiling towards them both with her usual one-sided smirk. 'Amelia Edwards.'
Making a point of addressing them both directly with eye contact - the way her uncle had always taught her - there was something about this Mr Morgan that made her drop her gaze almost immediately. However, she did not show her nerves by so much as flinching or blinking.
'I see that my uncle has already provided the hospitality,' she nodded at the filled glasses around her, 'may I also introduce you to my advisor Mr Jameson,' commenting on the man who stood behind her, arms folded behind his back.
Both men nodded politely, although it seemed to Amelia that they gave each other the briefest of glances.
Helping herself to the decanter and a spare glass that resided next to her on the round end table, she offered it first to Mr Jameson, who graciously declined with a small shake of his head. Bringing the glass into her lap, she eyed the two men opposite her.
'I suppose that Uncle has already informed you of the situation?' Amelia said, as she crossed her ankles and cradled her drink.
Mr Matthews pursed his lips together before nodding once in confirmation, whilst Mr Morgan continued to stare straight ahead. Shuffling slightly forward in his chair, the older of the two rested his elbow on the arm of the upholstered fabric.
'Indeed. We have been told there was an attempted robbery upon your property?' he commented, as he took another sip of his drink.
She nodded slowly, pondering his words whilst tilting her head slightly. For security, he was well spoken, but not without the typical American lilt. With a short nose and small, kind eyes, she already had a sense of warmth towards him.
His counterpart, however, sat without cheer, his arm resting on his knee seemingly looking at the floor just a foot before him. Evidently, one was the bargainer, the other the slinger.
'Precisely,' Amelia said, turning her attention back to Mr Matthews. 'The most important element is that one of my staff was shot in the leg. Thankfully, he will make a strong recovery. However, it has been a distressing disturbance to the peace that we had here.'
Trailing off, she couldn't help but picture Luke with a clenched mouth and blood pouring from his thigh, the look of sheer fear on his younger brother's face as he clutched a pistol to his chest.
'It appears that after the many years of building a home for us all, it is no longer as safe as it once was,' she said with a level of moroseness that she couldn't keep from her voice.
A small silence passed between them all as Amelia regarded her uncle from the corner of her eye with a slow inhale.
'My uncle spoke of yourselves, trusted with personnel security.'
Josiah nodded sincerely in the rocking chair, placing his drink on the table next to him.
'Their credentials are quite impressive, my dear,' Josiah noted, and Amelia observed the two men.
Both calm and reserved, Amelia couldn't find any good reason to not employ them and quite frankly, she was relieved with the help. They looked rough enough around the edges that she was confident they knew how to use a gun.
'I apologies for my lack of information about the work,' Amelia recited, having practised her words a few times prior to the meeting, 'all I know is that I will do anything to protect my home and staff.'
Scripted or not, she was sincere in her words. The majority in her charge came from all sorts of unfortunate backgrounds: former outlaws, immigrants, natives, and orphans, all from some kind of misfortune. They had suffered enough, and she was not prepared for them to go through any more hardship.
'Perhaps an evaluation of the grounds would be in order?' Josiah suggested, standing and straightening out his jacket.
The men and Amelia followed suit, leaving their drinks behind as Josiah gestured with his arm stretched out.
Mr Jameson followed closely behind Amelia, enough that she felt as though he were a hovering eagle. In a rather predictable fashion, he leant forward to her ear, whispering in low enough tones for the rest of the party to not hear his words.
'Ma'am, are you sure this is a good fit?' his words were kind and cautionary as always, as his moustache tickled her ear ever so slightly.
Smiling, Amelia couldn't help but feel a tenderness for the man. He always truly did have her best interests at heart. She gave a slight nod, just enough for him to see, as she continued to follow the rest of the group outside into the estate grounds.
The fresh spring air and the high sun hit her face immediately. Thankfully, the light grey Gibson shirt gave her some relief in the gentle breeze and she placed her hand on her brow, shielding her from the brightness of the day.
'Mr Morgan,' Josiah began, 'My niece will escort you around the property and show you the ignoble damage.'
She tried to catch her uncle's eye with no such luck. Why was she being lumped with a man that appeared to be nothing more than a mute? Not that one really needed to speak in order to assess security, but it would be bloody helpful.
'Very well,' Amelia smiled as best she could, through slightly gritted teeth. Never mind whose property it was, she supposed...
'Mr Morgan, if you could follow me,' with the slighted dip of her skirt toward her uncle and Mr Matthews, she began to walk into the grounds and towards the stables. It did not go unnoticed to her that Mr Jameson remained in tow, although at a slightly further distance than she would have liked. She quickened her step, feeling an increase of heat in her cheeks as her footfalls clicked loudly over the pebbled path.
'The building you see before you,' Amelia mentioned, pointing towards the two-story wooden structure about twenty yards in front of them, 'that is the stables. I will show you there first as that is where we took most of the damage.'
Nothing. Not a single word. She really was beginning to think he was a mute after all.
He skulked beside her. He wore a jacket the colour of sand, a black leather hat, and a heavy stubble across his face, all of which she was sure had seen better days. Gathering from the snatched glances, she snuck in any way.
His lack of words made her both frustrated and inquisitive in equal measures. It wasn't often she came by a man so... reserved. She wanted to put it down to a sheer lack of manners. Regardless of his connection to Josiah, he was clearly not all that familiar with anything other than eating beans out of a tin. Yet there was something about his silence that made her want to press him further.
The way that his eyes glanced at everything except her made her clench her jaw every so slightly, irritated with his disregard. If he was this impassive whilst learning about the job, Amelia couldn't help but think of his incompetencies in filling out the role.
A stray lock of hair escaped the confines of her bun as it was buffeted gently by the wind. A little flutter caught in her eye and Amelia reached up, plucking the loose piece of hair free and tucking it behind her ear. She could feel Mr Morgan's gaze on her for a slight moment as she kept her eyes focused on the building.
Her uncle made clear that these were not some low-level crooks hoping for a quick bit of dollar. They were contractors – professionals - she was assured. In her rational mind, a job such as this was far beyond both the reach and exhilaration that would entice a bounty hunter or outlaw, regardless of the pay. Not that Mr Matthews seemed to be of an age to chase bank robbers or to be a highwayman in the tundra. However, she couldn't help but wonder what sort of business Mr Morgan had with her uncle.
Clearing her throat in an attempt to distract herself from one's thoughts, they approached the stable. She lifted her skirts slightly in order not to trip over them in the gravelly path. The smell of hay, horses and leather hit her nose. The scent made her stomach growl as Amelia slowed her steps.
'As you can see,' she began, noticing the workers becoming distracted by the new presence, 'the stables took a fair bit of gunfire. We spent some time repairing the woodwork as best we could for a temporary fix -'
'We?' Mr Morgan commented, not attempting to hide the sarcasm from his low, gruff voice.
Not a mute then, Amelia thought as she turned to him with narrow eyes. She could see the flash of surprise on Mr Jameson's face, the usual furrow of his eyebrows that came with any insubordination.
'Yes, Mr Morgan. We.' She narrowed her eyes at him, her pride far outweighing her malaise around the man. 'Speak with my stable master, if you will. It took eight hours for us to finish the repairs to ensure that the horses were not affected by either weather or fear.'
Refusing to justify herself any further, she held her gaze with her guest. Insolence was a word Amelia rarely believe in, a perpetrator of it herself, but this was her home and she was not to be mocked by a stranger.
It was not the first, nor was she convinced that it would be the last that some damned man mistook her for some lady of silk and songs.
Although his face remained expressionless, it did not require too much imagination for her to see him coming up with some retort, as they often did. Before he could make any further quips, she continued.
'Thankfully, the horses remained without too much of a fright, and as mentioned, although one of my hands was tragically shot in the exchange, he is recovering quite well.'
Turning her back towards Mr Morgan, she could feel the slow hum in her head. The sure sign that all of her indulgent drinking earlier in the day was beginning to wane.
Mr Morgan glared at her for a moment longer before nodding his head slightly.
'They try and rob you the same day you got the horses?' He said, his voice gruff and smokey.
'Yes. The horses arrived in the late morning and the attack took place somewhere around midnight,' she said, keeping her tone as formal as possible without letting her annoyance at the man creep through. Although she already found him rude and slightly questionable, she trusted her uncle to provide her with professionals.
They continued walking as Mr Morgan walked around the stable, examining it over with his steely eyes.
'You know where they came from?' he asked, inspecting the structure.
'I didn't see a great deal of it, I'm afraid,' she shook her head, feeling slightly foolish at her lack of information.
He gave a low 'hmm' and tipped his leather hat back from his eyes, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket. He placed one in the corner of his mouth as he offered her one. Amelia looked up at him as she was slightly taken aback by the gesture but took one of the smokes, regardless. Mr Morgan also gestured the packet towards Mr Jameson, who refused.
Taking a match to the bottom of his shoe, he lit his own before offering the flame to Amelia behind a cupped hand. She stepped forward, putting the cigarette into the fire, her chest growing tense at the sudden lack of personal space. She avoided his gaze as she stepped back, taking a puff. The taste of the tobacco flooded her lungs, and with another long draw, she attempted to relax her shoulders.
She wasn't entirely sure what it was about Mr Morgan that made her so nervous. She had only met the man this afternoon, and yet something seemed to unsettle her. Perhaps it's simply that he intimidated her. He was an imposing presence, standing half a head taller than Amelia, with broad, thick shoulders.
However, Amelia had met plenty of men with similar builds, but none made her feel quite as uncomfortable as Mr Morgan. She supposed it was the eyes, a stormy blue with a hint of something dangerous in them. It felt as though there was a secret hidden away in each blink. A message of warning or even a threat.
Amelia found herself looking around, rather sheepishly. What must she be thinking? To allow such thoughts when meeting someone for the very first time was somewhat ridiculous. As if reading her mind, Mr Morgan cleared his throat, and Amelia gave a polite smile.
'If you are all done here, Mr Morgan, we shall continue the discussion inside,' she gestured with her arm back towards the property as the man prowled forward as she followed alongside him.
A few moments later, they were seated at the dining room table, with plates full of food and glasses filled with wine. Her uncle and Mr Matthews sat across from each other. Amelia took to the head of the table with Mr Morgan sitting to her right. As Millie put down the last plate of small potatoes covered in butter and mint, Amelia picked up her cutlery and started to cut into the poached salmon on her plate.
'Mr Matthews, may I ask you a question?' Amelia started, hoping to ease into the conversation.
'Go ahead,' he responded. His eyes were passive as the slight clink of silverware rang around the room.
'Why did you choose to work for my uncle?' She asked, 'Was it simply because you have a talent for security? Or was there something else that drew you to the position?'
Placing the salmon delicately in her mouth, she chewed at the fish. For a moment, her uncle looked at her as though he had no idea what she was talking about. A curiosity layered over his expression.
'Yes, there was. I have always admired your uncle, his business acumen, his attention to detail, his determination...' Mr Matthews said, taking a sip of red wine. 'As his niece, you also seem to possess many of these same qualities.'
'So you did not take the job solely because of the money, then?' Amelia continued with her tenacity. She could see the look Josiah was giving her from the corner of his eye. She was not willing to be told off like some petulant child, and what she asked of was for a good reason. She wasn't about to let some strangers have free rein of the estate after everything that had happened recently.
Mr Matthews shook his head.
'No, of course not. That would be ludicrous. However, I am aware of the way things go. I know how to keep my nose clean and I have experience dealing with criminals,' he said as she continued to feel the glare from her uncle.
'I see,' Amelia replied, feeling somewhat relieved to hear the truth from the man. But as she continued to stare at her plate with the warmth of the salmon hitting her tongue, she was still left with a nagging worry.
A wry smirk hit her lips, and she leant back in the dining chair, reaching for her wine as she could see her uncle was less than pleased with her display whilst Mr Morgan looked between the group.
'I have no doubt that my uncle has made the terms quite clear. Otherwise, Mr Matthews, I doubt you would be here,' she chimed, wanting to see what else the man could bring to the exchange.
Mr Matthews nodded his agreement.
'The terms have indeed been discussed with Mr Trelawney, and we can start our work as soon as that is convenient for you, Miss Edwards,' Mr Matthews said, taking another mouthful.
'I believe that four days a week at the property will suffice,' Amelia said into her drink. 'Adjustments can be made accordingly, but I believe next week will be a suitable start.'
After their luncheon was concluded and several pieces of small talk, Amelia and Josiah escorted their guests to the main door. As they stopped to bid them goodbye, Amelia stood beside the door, facing her new staff.
'Thank you for agreeing to do this, gentlemen. You have brought me much needed relief,' she said with a smile.
'We appreciate the opportunity, Miss Edwards,' Mr Matthews said as he put his hat back on.
With a curtsy, Amelia exited the house with Josiah and watched as her new employees mounted their horses, and rode by them on the porch. Both of the men tipped their hats to them as Amelia kept her gaze solely on Mr Matthews, avoiding the impenetrable stare of his counterpart.
'Well, what do you think, my dear?' Josiah turned to her as he waved off his guests.
'Mr Matthews clearly seems competent,' she noted as they returned to the front hall, refusing to comment any further.
The day was catching up with her swiftly, but she was glad she managed to eat the majority of her meal. She was sure it was the first meal she had in weeks. However, she was thankful that at least their meeting was over and she could speak with Josiah about the other pressing matter.
'Uncle, I must speak with you,' she gestured her head towards the parlour.
She closed the door behind them, ensuring no one else was around.
'I had a visitor yesterday, another one of Cornwall's representatives,' she started, her voice slightly shaking. He looked at her with concerned eyes.
'It was the usual sort of conversation, about buying out our assets...' Amelia trailed off, biting her lip as she cast her eyes down, 'when he left... He called me Miss Fairfax -'
'Good heavens,' Josiah muttered, cutting her off. 'How on earth did he know that?'
'That wasn't all.' She was now visibly shaking, unable to control her emotions and the tears that welled up in her eyes. 'He said... he said,' her breath grew ragged as her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to control herself.
Josiah guided her to the chair, his face tense and concerned.
'What did he say, my dear?' He asked gently.
Amelia shook her head as if to deny it was true, as she sat down on the seat. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.
'He said that my father,' she nearly spat the word, 'sends his regards.'
Josiah was quiet for some time as Amelia twisted her hands in her lap, staring at the floor. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she raised her eyes to meet her uncle.
'It was always a chance this would catch up with us, Amelia,' he said, as he knelt down before her, placing a tentative hand on her.
'But how does he know?! How...?' Her voice rose with anger and her eyes flashed in frustration.
'My dear, I am afraid there is nothing we can do at this juncture,' he replied, removing his hand from her knee. He stood and paced in front of his niece. 'All I know,' Josiah continued, 'is that you will be safe. We have the help from the likes of Mr Matthews and Mr Morgan. The business is secure, the papers -'
'You know what he's capable of!' Amelia yelled, standing. 'I'm not going back there,' she said resoundingly.
Josiah grabbed her by the shoulders gingerly, with the most serious expression she had ever seen him wear in many, many years.
'For now, we keep this to ourselves,' he said firmly. 'Amelia, my caneton, please do not fret. I won't let anything happen to you.'
She nodded weakly, dropping her gaze as she wiped her nose. She knew that he meant well, and it was reassuring, yet she still felt a shiver down her spine. She wished she could just run away. But that was impossible and she knew she could endure whatever was thrown her way - even if it was her monstrous father. She had survived him once before and would do so once again.