by Aria Norton
Hopeful, she turned her body towards him. “Do you mean to say that you have employment for me?”
“No.”
Freddi's face fell. “Oh, never mind. What was it that you wished to say?”
"I have a better solution than mere employment. My solution will mean you never have to work a day in your life again. You will be treated like the King himself, or perhaps I should say Prince Regent."
She did not like where this conversation was going. What does he mean to say?
“I do not understand, Mr Down.”
He smiled. “If you accept my offer, then it is imperative that you learn to call me Richard.”
“Please, tell me of this offer.”
But did she truly wish to hear it?
“If you do not find employment, then I would be pleased, no, happy, to accept you as my wife.”
Freddi went cold. Mr Down could not possibly mean what he was saying. How could she marry a man as old as he was? A man near her father's age? No, a little older than her own father? No, this is not a solution that I wish to hear about.
“That will not be necessary, Mr Down, but I thank you for the offer. Now, I really must be going.”
“Wait, my dear-”
“No,” she interrupted. “I must go. Good day, Mr Down.”
“Very well, my dear. My offer still stands.”
Freddi hurried away, not minding her aching blisters. Her mind was too preoccupied with Mr Down's words. Marry him? Surely I am not that desperate? She knew that finding a job was her only answer to her situation, for she did not want to get married to him. Freddi reached the cottage in her fastest time yet, half hoping to see Nash.
“Foolish! Did you not push him away with your harsh words?”
But at that moment, she wished that he might have been the one to ask for her hand in marriage. She would have accepted, she would have forgotten about the past and accepted his proposal.
I waste my time thinking of such nonsense. What I need is a job, and a job I will get.
***
Richard Down watched the pretty woman hurry away, a small grin playing about his thin lips. She would be back, he knew this because she had no other option. His sources had told him that that insufferable fool, Lord Blackmore, had hired someone to destroy the girl's reputation in all of Alfriston. The girl did not stand a chance, it was only a matter of time before she would come to him.
And I shall be waiting with open arms. Any man would want such a beautiful and young wife.
Richard had had his eye on the young woman for some years, but he knew that her father would never have allowed the union.
Too darn sentimental and soft. But look at what Lord Blackmore has done for me! He has delivered her on a silver platter.
He should send a note to the man to thank him. Richard laughed. A note? He had already sent a couple of those, had he not? Whistling, he left the bench, returning to his shop. Business was good, and it would be even better once some people were out of the way. Richard stood at the doorway, calling to his right man.
“Beyers!”
The slightly hunched fellow came out from the back, his beady eyes bright and alert.
“Mr Down? What can I do fer ye?”
“Bring me the books, I need to see our progress.”
“Right.”
“And Beyers, bring me some wine and two mugs.”
“Two mugs, sir?”
“We are celebrating today. It seems that I might be getting married a little sooner than I expected.”
Beyers grinned. “Mr Down, you old fox! I did not know that ye were a-courting a young wench. Who would it be? Is it Summersfields' widow? Or perhaps the daughter of that poor man who ye cleaned out?”
“No, no, even better than those two.”
Beyers heavy brow folded. “Who it be, Mr Down?”
“None other than John Dunn's beautiful daughter.”
The man's jaw dropped. “How did ye manage that? Her father would not allow a man such as yerself to marry his precious daughter.”
"But her father is no more, Beyers, and she requires a man. That fool Blackmore has placed her right into my hands, it is only a matter of time before she realises that I am her only solution."
“This is a cause for celebration, sir! I'll get that wine!
His right-hand disappeared, returning moments later with a large book, a bottle, and two mugs.
“Give me the book first, there are accounts that need my immediate attention.”
Beyers handed him the book, immediately returning to the wine. Richard left Beyers to retire to his room; he needed peace and quiet to do his work. Sitting down with a sigh, he stroked the arms of his leather chair. It was a new purchase, a hidden purchase that had to be smuggled in during the early hours of the morning. It was a terrible thing when a man could not show off his wealth like he wanted to.
Richard had accumulated a tidy sum for himself, and it was all thanks to his intelligence. Who could compare to him? Who else dared to go as far as he had gone? Once you crossed the line, there was no going back, and he did not want to go back to the old Richard, the one that people had trampled on, disregarded, and disrespected. If only John had done the same, then he would not have been six feet under today.
Poor bugger, his goodness did nothing to help him in the end.
Richard opened his book, going to that day’s date. Business was slow, but it would pick up soon enough once he had removed the last remaining barriers. He flipped backwards, grinning at his handiwork. There it all lay, every transaction, deal, blunder, success, and collection he had made over the years. Here was his wealth all in one book. If anyone were to get hold of it, he would be in a great deal of trouble.
But no one will see it because no one is allowed beyond the front shop.
Sure, he was a cobbler by day, but he was a businessman by night. Just a few more days and he would have all that he had ever wanted: money and a beautiful wife to flaunt on his arm. No one would dare look down their noses at him then.
***
Nash stared into his mug, seeing it empty. Where was it?
“That's funny,” he slurred. “It was sloshing over a minute ago.”
Had he drunk it all without realising it? He probably had, but his mind was not on the beer anyway, but on a beautiful woman with soulful brown eyes.
"She had no right to push me away! Does she know of the pain I endured? I came to see her! I came to see her! And she did not give me a chance, not one."
Nash lifted his mug into the hair, signalling the buxom wench for another one. He watched her slap drunken hands away from her as she made her way to him.
“What can I get fer ye, luv?”
“Another beer, no, make that an ale.”
“Will ye be wanting anything else, sir?”
She looked at him suggestively, leaning on the table. If he tilted his head and squinted his eyes, she could look like Freddi. For a split second, Nash was tempted to take what she was offering, but he thought better of it. How could he compare daily wool to the most exquisite silk? There was no comparison.
“Nope, nope, just the ale, please.”
The woman shrugged. “Have it yer way, luv.”
She walked away, swaying her bottom more than was necessary. Nash looked around him, seeing that the tavern was filling up quickly. How long had he been here? Perhaps two hours or more, he was not certain. He pulled his hat lower, not wanting any of the men to stare too long at him.
Nash knew that he favoured his father a lot in his appearance, but his features were more refined. Anyone with an eye for detail could look at him closely and recognise him. What if his father's enemies were about? A man like William Blackmore did not get through life without upsetting people, and Nash did not wish to get into any fight for his father. The wench returned with his ale, smacking it on the table.
“There ye go, luv. Ye just shout if ye be wanting anything a little more sweet, ye hear?”
“
I shall do that, ma'am.”
“Oh!” she laughed. “Fancy ye calling me ma'am! Ye not from around these parts, are ye?”
Whether he said yes or no, he would still be telling the truth.
“No, I have just stopped over.”
“Well, ye have yerself a good time, ye hear? Just call for Molly if ye need anything.”
Nash gave her his most charming smile. “I certainly will.”
The woman returned his smile, looking younger than he expected. If life had been a little kinder to her, she might have been quite pretty.
Nash gulped down his ale, wanting to get to his room as soon as he could. He stood up, gripping the table when the room started swimming.
“Perhaps I have had a little too much to drink. Nothing that sleep cannot cure.”
Nash grabbed his walking stick, keeping a tight grip on it as he made his way to the stairs that would take him to his sleeping room.
“Oi! Look at the cripple!”
A couple of men laughed, but Nash ignored them, moving forward. When a foot appeared in front of him, he stopped.
“Would you kindly remove your foot?”
“No, I will not kindly remove my foot,” the man mocked. “Look at him, Charlie! He thinks himself better than us with his posh words. Needs to be brought down to size, what do you think?”
“I am thinking the same thing, James.”
Nash lifted his head when two men stood up, blocking his path with their two large bodies. He was not looking for a fight, he just wanted to get to his room. Nash turned around, intending to go around them, but one of the men grabbed the back of his coat, pulling him back.
“Where do ye think yer going?”
“To my room. I do not wish to fight with you, please, release me.”
“Are ye scared?” the man called James laughed.
“Of you two? Hardly.”
“Why you-”
Charlie took a swing at him, missing him entirely as Nash ducked. He used his stick to jab into the man's belly, bringing him to his knees. He looked at the man still standing.
“As I said, I do not wish to fight.”
"How dare ye do that to Charlie? Seems I need to teach ye a lesson ye won't be forgetting in a hurry."
James lunged forward, dropping to the floor with a thud when Nash swiftly stepped out of his way and knocked him on the back of his head with his elbow. A woman with a heaving bosom came running out, carrying a pistol.
“I will not have ye fools ruining me tavern! Ye best stop fighting or I might need to put a few holes in ye!”
Nash lifted his hands. "I do not have a problem, ma'am, I only wish to retire to my room."
The woman indicated with her pistol for him to go, narrowing her eyes at the men on the floor.
“Stupid fools! How dare ye cause a fight? Ye should know better!”
Nash left the scene, pausing when he heard the name 'Dunn'. He moved closer to the three men huddled in the corner, listening carefully.
“Now that the Dunns have hit the bucket, poor Freddi is all alone. Maybe she'll have me now and won't be so proud.”
"Don't be daft," another replied. "Freddi wouldn't have ye if ye were the last man in the world!"
All three of them laughed, not seeing him. Martha and John had died? Why did Freddi not tell him? Nash felt regret for not coming to see the couple sooner. No wonder he had not seen them earlier, they were no longer there! Freddi must feel lonesome, perhaps that is why she so readily lashed out at me. He needed to see her just one more time; she needed to know how much he had valued her parents, how grieved he was to hear of their untimely deaths.
If only she will allow me to comfort her, but Freddi is a proud woman.
Still, she would hear what he had to tell her, and then she could do as she wished with his words.
Chapter 4
Clearing out the cottage would have been tedious work had Freddi not found comfort from sorting through her parents’ belongings. Each item held much history, proof that they had lived and that they had lived a good life.
Freddi knew that she could not keep everything, but she would carry a few mementoes with her. It was sad to think that she would never look upon the cottage again as it was, but such was life. She was slowly coming to terms with what fate had dealt her, but it was taking some getting used to.
This is where my parents had made a home, this is where they had raised me. It is no easy task to let it go.
In a way, it felt as though she were losing her parents all over again, and it hurt. If only Lord Blackmore would have afforded her the opportunity to speak to him, to beg him not to remove her from all that she knew. Freddi had been willing to set aside her pride and grovel, but the Marquis had refused to see her, telling the housekeeper to remove her from his sight. Mrs Blunt seemed to take pleasure from doing so, but she had been stopped by Mr Dagwood, who had pulled her aside to speak with her.
The old man had always been kind to her; he had been the one to escort her to the cottage, asking after her well-being. It was then that he had informed her that Mrs Blunt was to take over her parents’ cottage, that was why the woman was so eager to do the Master's bidding.
"Lord Blackmore has promised her the cottage and my parents have not been dead a month! Where is the affection he professed to have for them?"
Dead along with her parents. If only some of that affection had been bestowed upon her, then she was sure that she would have remained here. Sighing, Freddi looked around the room. Her parents had amassed so many things that it was challenging to find a good home for them all.
Their clothing had been folded and set aside for the other servants of Blackmore Estate, but Freddi was keeping a few items such as a shawl, a handkerchief, her mother's wedding dress, her father's pipe, just anything of great sentimental value. She was not certain if she would be able to take all that she wished, but she would try.
“But what of the books? Who will take them and love them as we did?”
Freddi had selected her favourite books, but she loved them all dearly. Would someone be willing to store them for her? Perhaps Mr Down would be kind enough to do so for her until she could find a place to house them. She quickly thought better of that idea. Freddi intended to avoid the cobbler for as long as she possibly could.
His marriage proposal certainly threw me for a loop! I cannot think what has gone through his mind to suggest such a thing to me!
It would have been preferable had he given her work, but she knew that he was a humble man with little means to house a maid. Mr Beyers, his apprentice, did the cleaning and the running of errands, and Mr Down needed no maid.
Just as well, for if he has had that notion of me becoming his wife for some time, it would have been mightily uncomfortable to be in his presence.
The man may assume that he was doing the noble thing by offering for her hand, but it did not sit right with Freddi. Caroline would never agree to such a union for herself, and she was more inclined to lean towards older men. Mr Down is much too old, he has teeth missing, he does not take care of his physical body, and his shop is always a mess. Mr Beyers may be under the impression that he cleans well, but he is sorely mistaken.
