by Merry Farmer
“I shall be blunt, Miss Bond. The lease on this cottage is up on April first. As your father is no longer here to renew the lease, it will be terminated as of March thirty-first.”
Elaine’s jaw dropped as a wave of fear overtook her. The cottage was her home, practically the only home she’d ever known. She shut her mouth and swallowed, fighting to keep herself from losing her head.
“I have full authority to determine my own financial matters, Mr. Sudbury,” she said, her voice hoarse with the effort not to panic. “My father left me with a comfortable sum of money. It’s not enough for a lavish lifestyle, but it’s certainly enough to pay the rent on a cottage of this size.”
“Your ability to pay the rent is not an issue here, Miss Bond,” Mr. Sudbury said, his lip curled as though dealing with something distasteful. “If you had bothered to comport yourself at Burton Manor last night and to listen to the advice of your betters, you would have seen that we all had your best interest at heart.”
“Who are the lot of you to think you have a right to determine my best interest?” Elaine snapped, standing straighter. Anger was so much more comfortable than fear, though it still had her shaking like a leaf on the inside.
“Without a male relative to take you in hand, you are like an orphaned child—the responsibility of the governors of the town of Brynthwaite.”
“I am not an orphan. Well, not in that way. And I have a male relative, an uncle in London,” Elaine insisted.
“Then I suggest you go to him,” Mr. Sudbury went on.
“I will not leave Brynthwaite.” She tried not to stomp with her declaration. “This is my home. It is where my friends are, where my life is.”
Mr. Sudbury sighed with impatience, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Then please, avail yourself of those friendships. Those of us with any influence at all have been trying to impress upon Mr. Wall the benefits of marriage to restore social order to Brynthwaite and to bring you in line, Miss Bond.”
“Mr. Wall is my friend,” Elaine shouted. “He is not some pawn to be moved about in your game simply because you cannot stomach the sight of a female living a happy, independent life. I will not let you use or abuse him in any way.”
Mr. Sudbury pursed his lips and huffed through his nose. “It is beneath my dignity to argue with a hysterical female.” He reached into his jacket pocket, drew out an envelope, and handed it to Elaine. “Here is your official notice of eviction. You have a fortnight to remove yourself and your property from my cottage. The matter brooks no further discussion. Good day, Miss Bond.” He executed a sharp bow, then turned, fixed his top hat on his head, and marched off.
“Wait, Mr. Sudbury,” Elaine marched after him, waving his letter. “This is unjust and unfair. You cannot do this to me.”
He stopped at the corner of the house and spun back to face her. “I can and I have. Good day.” He walked on.
Elaine continued to chase after him. “What kind of a cruel tyrant would cast a defenseless woman out of her home with only a fortnight’s notice?”
“This one,” Mr. Sudbury called back without turning around or stopping.
Fear began to overtake fury in Elaine. “But what am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go when this is my home?”
“To your uncle in London,” Mr. Sudbury said from the lane, where a horse that must have been his was tethered. He mounted in one swift motion.
“But Brynthwaite is my home. Brynthwaite is where I belong,” she pleaded with him.
The horse danced as he turned it around. “Then marry Mr. Bond if you want to stay, and put the rest of us out of our misery.” He kicked his horse into a trot and rode off without looking back.
Elaine stood where she was, in complete shock. She stared at Mr. Sudbury until he rounded the corner and disappeared, then she stared some more. It couldn't be happening to her. The wretched man couldn’t possibly have just come and taken her home, her freedom, from her. And without so much as a hint of shame.
“Oh, Miss Bond, I’m so sorry,” June said, stepping up behind her and laying a friendly hand on her shoulder. “How unforgivably wicked of that man.”
“What am I going to do?” Elaine gulped, pressing her hands and the eviction letter to her stomach. “This is my home, my father’s home. He brought me here when I was barely ten years old, after Mama died.” She turned to gaze at her perfect, cozy, beloved home. “He’s in the walls, in the furniture, in everything about the place. I couldn’t possibly leave him.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
Elaine turned to June to find the woman’s eyes glassy with tears. The sting of defeat was too much. She couldn’t go down without a fight.
“Mr. Wall will know what to do,” she said, balling her hands into fists and heading toward the lane. “He’ll know exactly what to do to beat these bullies at their own game.”
“Good luck,” June called after her. “I’ll just finish up with the wash.”
Elaine barely heard her. She had a mission in front of her, and nothing would stop her from accomplishing it.
Love made men into fools, but Basil wasn’t enough of a fool to believe that Ramsey, Crimpley, and their lot wouldn’t enact the repercussions they’d threatened as soon as possible. He paced his bookshop, scaring away a few ladies who had come in looking for the latest novels and journals, waiting for hell to break loose. There had to be a way to stop Crimpley—who was certainly the ring-leader behind it all—from bullying Elaine.
Of course, that way was obvious. If he married her like everyone wanted him to, the bullying would stop in an instant. Furthermore, even though marriage would mean Crimpley won, Basil had no doubt that he and Elaine would be blissfully happy together. At least, until she discovered the pile of lies their friendship was based upon.
He reached one end of the shop and turned to pace back to the other. The letter from Malcolm weighed heavily in his mind. As dangerous as the truth was, there were things he might be able to do as the Earl of Waltham to protect Elaine and to silence her bullies that he couldn’t do as a humble bookseller. The people of Brynthwaite would continue to balk and cringe at Elaine’s unconventional ways, but if she was known to be the ward of an earl and a peer, they wouldn’t dare speak out against her. The trouble was, they wouldn’t speak to her at all. She’d be even more isolated than she already was, and chances were she’d feel so betrayed by his secrets that she wouldn’t speak to him either.
Not that she could if he was all the way in London, where he surely would be once Malcolm dragged him back to his old life.
“Do we have the funds to replace the carpet?” Andrew asked from the shelves that he was reordering to make room for new books.
“I beg your pardon?” Basil asked, glancing up at him with a frown.
Andrew wore a teasing smile. “To replace the trough you’re wearing in it with your pacing.”
Basil managed a weak grin at the quip. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“I can see that.” Andrew nodded, then continued his work with the shelves. “What mad-capped escapade has Miss Bond launched now?”
There was no point in denying the truth.
“She’s in danger,” Basil said, continuing his pacing.
Andrew lost some of his humor. “From what?”
“I’m not sure yet. Crimpley attempted to ambush the two of us at a formal dinner at Burton Manor last night. He has Lord Ramsey involved. Mr. Sudbury too.”
“The landlord?”
Basil nodded. “I’m worried that—”
The front door of the shop banged open, causing the bell to jangle in alarm. Elaine rushed in, looking pale but for her bright red cheeks, her eyes wide. Basil was battle-ready even before she said, “He’s thrown me out of my house!”
A strange sort of relief spilled through Basil as his pacing changed to a sudden rush to meet Elaine just inside the shop door. Now he knew what he was up against, which weapon the enemy had chosen to use.
“Are y
ou all right?” he asked, clasping her arms and stopping just short of drawing her against him in an embrace.
“No,” she gulped. “I most certainly am not all right. He’s evicting me from my home.” She held up an envelope clenched in her hand.
“May I?”
When she nodded, Basil took the letter and opened it. His heart immediately sank. It was a legal document, signed and witnessed, and as far as he could tell, perfectly legitimate, ousting Elaine from the cottage she thought of as her own in no uncertain terms.
“He can’t do this to me, can he?” Elaine demanded. Behind the anger in her question, Basil heard despair. She knew what he could clearly see as he scanned Sudbury’s eviction notice.
“He owns the property,” he said carefully, refolding the letter and stuffing it back into the envelope.
“That may be, but I’ve lived in it for twenty-one years. Papa was never late with his rent, and neither was I. We’ve maintained the property, poured so much of ourselves and our efforts into it.”
It was a rare sight to see Elaine undone and defeated. Basil hated it, and he hated the men who had sapped the excitement and vitality from the woman he loved. She was frantic and on the verge of tears. In the two years he’d known her, the only time he’d seen her in tears was when her father died. It hurt then, and it was agony now.
He did the only thing he could. He swayed forward, closing his arms around her and pulling her tight against his chest. She molded instantly against him, hugging his waist and resting her head against his shoulder with a pitiable moan of grief. Basil’s heart burst within his chest. Every fiber of his being rejoiced as fiercely as they mourned. She was soft and warm, and smelled of sunshine and her garden. Her hair fell in silken waves across the backs of his hands. Her fingertips pressed into his muscles as though he was all she had left to hold onto. It was bittersweet torture to hold her so close under such circumstances, but he cradled her tenderly all the same, suspended in the bliss of embracing her at last.
Marry her, you fool, a voice whispered inside of him. The two of you were made for each other.
“What am I going to do now?” she implored, inching back and glancing up at him. Painful as it was, she could see the truth of the situation as clearly as he could. The enemy had struck a killing blow. “Where am I going to live?”
Basil let out a heavy breath as he released her. He rested a hand on the small of her back and led her to the faded sofa in the reading nook she’d suggested he set up on one side of the shop. “You’ll live here,” he said, sitting with her.
Elaine blinked, the glassy defeat in her eyes flashing to confusion. “Here? In the bookshop?”
Basil was well aware of Andrew listening in, but he continued with, “No, upstairs, in the flat.”
“But you live in the flat,” she said, a different sort of perplexed look coming to her eyes.
He nodded. “I’ll ask Ted Folley if I can move into one of the rooms in The Fox and the Lion across the street until…until we figure out what to do next.”
He would have to marry her, there was no getting around it. If she’d have him. If he was brave enough. Even though they’d been pushed into it by the combined force of the town of Brynthwaite and its allies. All that remained was to decide whether he would be a rogue and a bastard and marry her before revealing the truth of who he was, or if he would do the honorable thing, tell all, and risk losing her.
“I suppose the flat would be the perfect place for me to live,” Elaine said, picking at her skirt, staring at the floor with an unfocused gaze. “I love books, you know I do.” She glanced up and met his eyes. “And I could do things for you as well, cooking, cleaning, and things. As thanks.”
Basil’s throat squeezed at the innocence of her offer, the complete lack of guile in her expression. He hadn’t known many women who would think to repay his kind offer with cooking and cleaning rather than with their bodies. He half wished she had made that suggestion. The fact that she hadn’t only made him want her more.
“It will be all right,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I would never let anything truly bad happen to you.” His voice turned gruff as he made his promise. In all likelihood, he was the bad thing that was about to happen to her.
She drew in a breath, straightened, and squared her shoulders. “I think this might work. I think I might be able to live this way after all.”
“Um, sorry to interrupt,” Andrew said, stepping gingerly closer to them. “But you do realize that having Miss Bond live above the shop could, in fact, make things worse instead of better.”
“Worse?” Elaine blinked innocently up at Andrew. “How would it be worse? I’d have a home. Mr. Sudbury doesn’t own this building, does he?” She turned to Basil in question.
“No, he does not,” Basil answered. In fact, he’d purchased the building and half the rest of the block through a broker before moving to Brynthwaite. Crimpley wouldn’t be able to oust either of them the way Sudbury had Elaine. She was as safe in the bookshop as she was going to be anywhere.
“You know what people will say,” Andrew went on, his expression sheepish. “It’s bad enough that you employ a man of African birth, sir,” he added with a self-effacing smile. “But to keep a woman in your flat? You may run out of customers by Friday.”
“It will be all right,” Basil said. There was no need to raise suspicions by admitting that he could never sell another book and he’d still have the money to maintain the shop until his dying day.
Andrew didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. He shook his head. “Begging your pardon, sir, but why don’t the two of you just get married?”
Basil clenched his jaw, but he refused to show any other outward sign of his annoyance at the question. He counted Andrew as a friend, regardless of the fact that he was asked the same question every day by nearly everyone he met.
Elaine shifted, and when he looked to her, she wore an inquisitive look that had his blood running hot and cold. Because he could see it in her eyes, whether she knew it was there or not. She, too, was asking him why he didn’t just propose. Only, along with the question, he could see an answer in the depth of her thoughts. Because he had a reason why he hadn’t proposed already. He was certain she could see it. Otherwise, why hadn’t she asked him straight-out to marry her? That was something Elaine would most certainly do.
The silence dragged on so long that a proposal formed on the tip of Basil’s tongue. But Elaine answered, “I don’t believe in marriage.” Basil’s brow shot up. Andrew’s lips twitched in amusement. But Elaine stiffened her posture and fluffed her skirt around her. “Marriage is just another social imposition by a society that wants to keep women caged. I don’t ever want to be married. I believe in free love instead.” She wouldn’t meet either his or Andrew’s eyes.
Because, of course, she was lying through her teeth. Basil wasn’t convinced she truly knew what the term “free love” meant. She’d likely read it in one of the journals he indulged her with. He was old enough and wise enough and knew Elaine deeply enough to know that, underneath her fierce independence, she wanted to love and be loved. She wanted marriage and children. She wanted the large, loving family she’d never had. And he wanted to give it to her.
But not yet. Not until he straightened the rest of his life out. His old life. Because it was closing in on him fast—as fast as Malcolm Campbell could find him.
“Enough of this worry,” he said, standing and faking a smile. He offered a hand to Elaine, helping her up. He didn’t want to let her hand go. “Let’s face what we have to face. If Sudbury wants your cottage, let him have it. I’ll help you pack up everything that matters to you and find a safe place to store it. There’s not much room upstairs, but it’s warm and safe, and for as long as you need it, it’s yours.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wall,” Elaine said, swaying on her spot as though she wanted to throw her arms around him in another embrace. She didn’t, though, which came close to breaking Basil’s heart. “I
don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Chapter 5
“Miss Bond, should this go in the crate with things from the parlor or the one with items from your father’s bedroom?” young Lawrence Smith asked, holding up a worn smoking pipe.
Basil glanced up from where he was packing the last of Elaine’s books in the parlor to see Elaine toss aside the curtain she was folding. She crossed the room to take the pipe from Lawrence’s hands, lifting it to her face and closing her eyes as she sniffed.
“It still smells like him,” she said in a tiny voice.
Basil hurried to her side, standing just behind her in case she needed him. And she had needed him in the last two weeks. Almost constantly. They’d been in a race against the clock to sort through Elaine and her father’s belongings in time to meet Sudbury’s deadline, set in the eviction notice. It had been no easy task either. William Bond had been something of a hoarder. Every nook and cranny of Elaine’s cottage was stuffed with trinkets, mementos, and odds and ends that Basil considered useless. He’d only met the man a handful of times before his sudden passing, but shifting through the detritus of his life had given Basil the sense that William Bond would have been his friend. It also gave him a deeper understanding of the tragedy Elaine was facing in being ousted from her home.
“I’ll put this with my things,” she told Lawrence, clutching the pipe to her heart. “It’s too special to go in a crate I might not unpack for years.”
“Yes, miss,” Lawrence said with a kind smile, returning to his work.
Elaine gazed at the pipe for a few more moments before sighing heavily and crossing back to the trunk of her most personal belongings that sat open in the doorway between the hall and the parlor. “There might not be enough room for everything in here,” she said, hinting to Basil that she knew he was there by her side. “Papa did like his things.”
“If it’s too painful for you, I could find a charity that would accept all of this and get them into the hands of those who need them,” he said. “I’ve heard good things about the Salvationists and their efforts to help the downtrodden.”
