Margaret Hale stared at the words on the paper. She had read them countless times already over the last few days, and they had yet to change. But she still could not let go of the letter, or stop rereading its tragic news.
"Regret to inform you… death of Mr. Adam Bell… funeral in Oxford…"
Yet another death, another loss, another blow to her heart – and somehow this one seemed the most devastating of all. For with this death, her own life was all but over.
She had no options now. There was no way out. She was trapped. She could now only wait for the walls to close in around her.
How much her life had changed in such a short time. Could it really be less than a year ago, when she had been living happily in Helstone? She pictured her parents, sitting there in the parlor. Her mother would be working on embroidery, her father poring over a volume of Plato or Shakespeare, or preparing his Sunday sermon. No hint of the troubles to come invaded their quiet tranquility.
Then Mama had become ill. Margaret could not recall when it had started. Her mother made light of her symptoms for a long time. Margaret remembered the night she realized the seriousness of her mother's condition. Mama had finally relented and allowed her to fetch the village doctor. The look on his face as he left her mother's bedroom told Margaret what her mother had tried so desperately to hide.
The illness had progressed quickly at the end. Mama cried daily for Frederick, the son separated from her forever, banished from England for the crime of mutiny. Being well known in Helstone, Frederick could not risk his life to return to the village to see his dying mother. Without her son, Mama had seemed to give up on life, seeming to care little for the company of her husband or daughter. She let the sickness overtake her without a fight.
After the loss of his wife, Mr. Hale faded into an empty shell of his former self. He went on delivering his sermons on Sundays, ministering to his congregation, even spending time with Mr. Bell. But the man inside was missing, even while going through the motions of his life. One Saturday he left for the church to prepare for the Sunday service, and never returned home.
Her father's sudden death upended Margaret's world. She had suddenly been forced to leave her beloved Helstone, her picturesque home where she had been so content. Their house was swiftly appropriated by the new minister's family. Even their parishioners had not mourned Mr. Hale's loss for long. They greeted their new additions eagerly with hardly a thought for their former parson.
Margaret's thoughts drifted back to the man who had been such a saving grace to her during that time. Mr. Bell had helped her with the onerous tasks of dealing with her parents' possessions. He had delivered her to the care of her cousin Edith in London, her only remaining relation. He had visited her frequently in the time since, taking her on outings, reminiscing, and providing a companionship she had failed to find elsewhere. It had often occurred to her that he was her only real friend.
Mr. Bell's visits had also provided a welcome reprieve from the attentions of Henry Lennox. Despite her rejection of his proposal in Helstone, Henry still behaved as though he and Margaret were engaged to be married. He, along with Edith and Maxwell, seemed to regard their eventual union as an established fact.
As her mourning period came to a close, Margaret knew she could not avoid Henry much longer. She increasingly suspected that she would not be allowed the choice to continue to remain as a single relation in this home. She had even begun to consider the drastic step of suggesting to Mr. Bell a marriage of convenience.
A life with Mr. Bell would certainly be preferable to marriage with Henry Lennox. It would not be a love match, of course, although she did care for Mr. Bell a great deal. And she knew he cared for her, and respected her, valuing her ideas and opinions. She enjoyed spending time with him. Above all, it would provide her an escape from this home, the home that had now become a prison. She did not know if he would expect certain aspects of marriage – but that hardly mattered now, anyway. Mr. Bell was gone, and her hope for freedom with him.
Freedom. How strange, that she now longed to be free from the Harley Street home she had been so fond of, and from Edith, who had once been as dear to her as a sister. How had Edith changed so much? Since Edith's marriage and Margaret's move back to Helstone, the two of them had gradually drifted apart, their interests becoming increasingly different. After the death of Aunt Shaw, Edith had pulled away from their friendship even further, focusing solely on her husband. But still, Margaret thought, how can she understand me so little? Why doesn't she care at all for my feelings? How can she be so selfish? Not for the first time, she wondered whether it was truly Edith who had changed, or if Margaret was now seeing her as she had always been.
A knock at the door announced her cousin's entrance. "Margaret!" Edith walked into the room without waiting for a response. "Henry has been here for over an hour now. Why have you kept him waiting?" She glared at Margaret, her lips twisted in annoyance.
"I told you I had a headache, Edith. I did not ask Henry to wait for me." In fact, Margaret had hoped he would take the hint and leave.
"Margaret!" Edith's tone was harsh. "You cannot keep treating Henry this way! He has been very patient with you, allowing you your mourning period. And now to behave so foolishly over a man you barely knew! Mr. Bell was not even a relation. It's rather embarrassing, Margaret. As a barrister Henry has many important dinners he needs you to attend with him. It is time you stop your sulking and behave properly."
"I have no intention of attending any dinners with Henry, Edith. I have never given him any indication that I would. If he needs a dinner partner he must look elsewhere."
"Margaret, you are so stubborn!" Edith threw her hands on her hips, shaking her head in irritation. "That is ridiculous. You are to be his wife. You know he has only been waiting for your mourning period to be over. You should be grateful, many men would not wait so long."
"Edith, I shall not be his wife. And he knows I shall not." Margaret's voice trembled with frustration. "I have already turned down his proposal, in fact. I do not know why he still persists in believing otherwise."
"Of course you will marry him!" Edith was shocked at what she was hearing. "You cannot mean that. It is a perfect arrangement."
"I will not! And if I need to tell him so again, I will do so, quite clearly."
Edith scowled in indignation. "You will do no such thing! You will accompany me downstairs and you will behave civilly, as a proper lady. You will accept Henry's proposal when he makes it, which he will soon, and you will marry him. I do not see any other eligible suitors vying for your hand, Margaret. Maxwell will not be willing to financially support you forever. And certainly he will not continue to support the woman who rejected his brother." She sighed. "Not that we will be able to afford to, the way he's gambled through Mama's money…" Her words broke off, and she turned sharply away.
Margaret stared at Edith, a cold horror spreading through her chest. Her worst fears had just been confirmed. Margaret would not be allowed to turn down Henry. She had no choice. Her life had been decided for her. She would be forced into marriage, to a man she increasingly disliked. And she saw no other path she could take.
"Excuse me, miss," A maid appeared in the doorway. "There's a gentleman here to see you."
"Who is it, Agnes?" Edith snapped impatiently.
"It's a gentleman to see Miss Hale. On business, he says. He's waiting in the drawing room."
"Business? With me?" Margaret asked, confused. "Thank you, Agnes. I'll be right down."
Edith followed the maid to the doorway. "We'll be in the parlor with Henry. Do be good enough to pay us a visit when you've finished your important business." With a roll of her eyes, she flounced out of the room.
Margaret did not recognize the man awaiting her in the drawing room. He was a bit portly, and not terribly tall, with thinning hair that was mostly grey. His clothing reflected upper middle class respectability, though not wealth. His face was lined, but he had an open countenance, with warm brown eyes and a friendly smile.
"Miss Hale, thank you for seeing me. Charles Taylor, at your service." He spoke with an unfamiliar accent that she found strangely pleasant. He held out a hand to Margaret.
Margaret glanced down at his hand, confused. He surely could not be expecting her, a lady, to shake hands like a man. She regarded him again without moving.
"Oh, forgive me, Miss Hale. My Milton customs. I do forget that is not how you do things in London." He lowered his hand and gave her a slight bow. "I am the solicitor for Mr. Adam Bell. I understand he was your godfather. My sincerest condolences on your loss."
"Yes, yes he was. I thank you. I was very saddened to hear of his passing. It was quite a shock." Margaret sat on a small settee and he resumed his seat on a chair across from her.
"Of course. I am so sorry, Miss Hale." The man's sympathetic expression seemed genuine. "I believe he did not want you to know how ill he was. He didn't wish for you to worry about him. I know he was very fond of you."
Margaret blinked back the tears that suddenly appeared in her eyes. "He was dear to me as well."
"And that brings me to the purpose of my visit." Mr. Taylor pulled some papers from a case on the table next to him. "I have here Mr. Bell's last will and testament. As you may know, Bell had no living relations. His will stipulates that his entire estate, all his possessions and properties, are to go to you, Miss Hale."
Margaret stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. "Pardon me? I – I don't understand."
"He left everything he had to you. You are Mr. Bell's sole heiress. Everything he owned is now yours. That includes a substantial bank account." He gave her a direct look. "Miss Hale, you are a wealthy woman."
Margaret's head began to feel foggy. The room spun around her. She placed a hand on the armrest beside her in an effort to keep herself upright. Mr. Bell had given everything he owned to her? She was his heiress? Had she truly meant that much to him? She felt a wave of affection for her departed friend, and her eyes filled with tears. Even on his deathbed, he had thought of her. He was caring for her even now, from beyond the veil.
"I know this must come as quite a shock." Mr. Taylor's voice was sympathetic. "I believe Bell had hoped to have more time and would have told you himself. He planned to bring you to Milton to show you your properties."
"My… properties?" Margaret felt bewildered. "I have properties in Milton?"
"Oh yes, Miss Hale. A number of quite valuable properties."
Suddenly it struck her what this meant. She was staggered by what Mr. Bell had truly granted her. He was not only providing her with wealth; he was giving her freedom. Her life was now in her own hands. She no longer had to depend on someone else for financial support. She could make her own decisions, choose her own path. She would be dependent on no one. She had no obligation to marry anyone. She was free.
Margaret lowered her head, overcome with tremendous relief and gratitude. He knew, she thought. He knew what this would mean to me. She closed her eyes and whispered a silent thank you, hoping wherever Mr. Bell was, he could hear it.
"I have the details for your properties and accounts here. Would you care to review them?" Mr. Taylor pulled out another stack of documents.
He was interrupted by Henry Lennox, who sauntered into the room without knocking. "Margaret, Edith said you were meeting with a man alone on some sort of business." He eyed Mr. Taylor with hostility. "What business do you have with Miss Hale?"
Before he could respond, Margaret rose from her seat. "Mr. Taylor, please forgive the interruption. This is Henry Lennox, my cousin's brother-in-law. Henry, this is Mr. Taylor. He was just informing me that Mr. Bell left me a small gift in his will."
Giving Margaret a quick searching look, Mr. Taylor stood and shook Henry's hand.
"Mr. Taylor, I insist in the future you will meet only with me. As Miss Hale's lawyer, I will handle her financial interests."
"We were just finishing, Henry. Mr. Taylor is leaving for another appointment."
"Indeed, Miss Hale." With another sharp glance at Margaret, Mr. Taylor quickly gathered up the papers and put them back in his case. "I appreciate your taking the time to meet with me."
"Think nothing of it. I will show you out. Henry, please let Edith know I will join you shortly."
Henry seemed irritated to be so dismissed, but Margaret ignored him as she accompanied Mr. Taylor to the front door.
When they were alone in the front hall, Mr. Taylor spoke quietly to Margaret. "Miss Hale, am I correct in assuming that you do not wish to employ Mr. Lennox as your lawyer?"
"No, indeed, I do not. In fact, I would like him to know as little of my affairs as possible."
"I understand, Miss Hale. Perhaps we could meet again at another location to discuss further. I am taking the last train to Milton tonight, but I could arrange a trip back to London next week…"
"Mr. Taylor, do my properties in Milton include a home where I could live?"
He gave Margaret a rather startled look. "Well, your holdings do include a small house in Crampton. It is nothing fancy, but respectable enough. The most recent tenants have vacated and it is currently empty."
"That sounds perfect, Mr. Taylor. Might I ask – Would it be too much of an imposition – May I accompany you back to Milton tonight?"
Mr. Taylor regarded her shrewdly. "Miss Hale, are you unhappy in this home?"
Margaret looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "Yes. I need to leave. I cannot stay here any longer."
"I see." He nodded thoughtfully. "You know, I have a daughter not much older than you, Miss Hale. I would hate to think of her in a situation where she was unhappy, and I would hope that someone would help her if they could." He gave her a small smile. "Could you be ready to leave at half past six?"
"Yes, Mr. Taylor. I thank you so much." Margaret sighed in relief. "And please, do not come to the door. If you will hold your carriage at the end of the street, I will meet you there."
"I understand, Miss Hale. Then I will bid you a good day. Until this evening." With a firm press of his hand on hers, he walked out the door.
Making her way back to the parlor, Margaret felt rather dizzy. Am I really going to do this? Was she actually going to run away from this house, from her only remaining family, off to a place she had never been, with a man she had met only half an hour ago? Was she crazy to be contemplating such an action?
Entering the room, the first voice she heard was Henry's. "Margaret, what was the meaning of that scene? Taking a meeting with a strange man without me?"
"I hardly think your presence was necessary, Henry. He had business with me." Margaret tried to keep her tone calm and not betray her annoyance.
"You received an inheritance from Mr. Bell's estate? What did he leave you?" Maxwell surprised Margaret by addressing her directly. She did not miss his calculating look.
"Oh, he had some books and papers of my father's in Oxford. I believe he thought that I would like them." Margaret was startled at how easily the lie fell from her lips.
Maxwell turned away, Margaret's presence of no more interest to him. Henry was still fuming, and she could see he was ready to begin another tirade on the inappropriateness of her behavior if given the chance.
"I apologize, Edith, but the meeting with Mr. Taylor seems to have brought back my headache. I need to go lie down again." Margaret touched her fingertips to her forehead.
Edith sighed audibly, but instead of arguing, she only waved her hand dismissively. As Margaret stepped into the hall, she felt a painful pressure on her arm. She turned to see Henry grasping it tightly, with a grim look on his face.
"Margaret, that will not happen again. You will not be alone with another man."
Margaret struggled to keep control of her temper while she tried to loosen his grip. "Pardon me, Henry, but I do not think you have the authority to give me orders."
"Margaret, you know perfectly well I have only been waiting for your mourning period to be over to formalize our arrangement. You cannot continue to behave in such a way. It is not befitting for my future wife."
"Future wife–" Margaret gasped. "Henry, if you will recall, I refused your proposal quite some time ago."
"Foolishly, yes. But, Margaret, are you in the same position that you were then? Do you still have a father to provide for you? Any other suitors asking for your hand?" Henry's sneering tone shocked her. "What is your position to be able to refuse me now?"
His words sent a strange calm through her mind. Her position. Little he knew of her position. She was Mr. Bell's heiress. A wealthy woman. A free woman. The knowledge gave her a secret serenity. She smiled at him. "Yes, Henry. I suppose you are right. I do need to consider my position."
Her placid tone and conciliatory words seemed to assuage him, and he let go of her arm. "Yes, well, good, Margaret. We will speak of this again soon."
Margaret gave him another slight smile, and a nod of her head. Turning, she made her way back to her bedroom.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Margaret threw herself onto her bed. How could she possibly absorb all that had just happened? In the space of half an hour, her life had irrevocably changed. She would no longer be dependent on anyone. She could escape this house that had become so unbearably oppressive. She would not be required to marry Henry Lennox; she would not need to marry anyone unless she wished to.
She thought about what she was about to do that very evening. Was she really going to run off to Milton, a place she knew little about? What would she find there? Is this really what I should do? But the alternative was to remain on Harley Street and be pressured into marriage with Henry. That was unthinkable.
Yes, she would venture to Milton. She could start a new life in this strange city, as Mr. Bell's heiress. She would see what this Milton had to offer.
She opened her wardrobe and gazed at the dresses inside, contemplating what she should bring. She was done with her black mourning gowns. Mr. Bell would not wish her to wear them for him. It was time to begin a new chapter. She must pack sparingly, though. She would only be able to take a small travel bag if she wanted to be able to depart undetected.
And she must leave a letter for Edith. She crossed to her writing desk and picked up a pen, debating what to write.
Should she be honest about her plans? After all, they could not truly force her to stay, could they? She was of age, and no one had any legal right to keep her here against her will.
However… if they knew where she had gone, she had no doubt they would come after her and try to make her return. She considered how Henry would react. A slight shiver of fear ran down her spine at the memory of his eyes today, how painfully he had gripped her arm. Perhaps it was cowardly, but she would keep her destination hidden, for as long as possible.
Margaret bent her head, placed her pen on the paper, and began to write.
When Agnes came to fetch Margaret for dinner, she was surprised to find the room unoccupied. The maid winced when she saw the envelope lying on the bed. She knew it would be up to her to deliver the letter to Mrs. Lennox. And Mrs. Lennox would definitely not be pleased.