seemed to believe you had work here. I'm sure that you turned down work to do your job, whether it was real or imagined."
"That's not the point," James answered. Mary pressed herself against the wall; they were right through the doorway beside her, and all she had to do was step through. Then they'd all know she was there.
"Of course. So I'm prepared to offer you a severance, in spite of the fact that you don't contest that you have no contract. I think you'll find fifty pounds, plus the one that you've incurred in wage, to be more than fair. Don't you think?"
Mary's eyes fluttered shut. He had the money, she knew. He'd borrowed that much and more from her father.
Some part of her had been willing to accept that everything had been a big misunderstanding. That Oliver had made some bad gambling debts and that they'd needed to be paid off. The rest of it could all have been a series of coincidences.
But a fifty pound severance to a steward that had been working for a week? That was as much an admission of guilt as she would ever receive from him.
For a long time, as Mary held her breath, nobody spoke. Then she heard Oliver again.
"Davis? Richard? Remove this man from my family's estate. He's deranged, and possibly dangerous. Take care with him. He's a large fellow, and he served in His Majesty's armed services, so he'll be capable enough."
Mary chanced a peek out through the door. Four or five large men stood with their backs to her. James was facing toward her, and as soon as she moved her head out she knew that he saw her. He didn't betray it in his face, but something in the hardness of his expression changed. He clenched his jaw and waited for them to come and take him.
Two men stepped forward. A third stepped up to join them, and Mary ducked her head back behind the wall before one of them saw her watching.
She could hear James struggling against them, but it was a losing fight. He was strong, she knew, and without a doubt he was capable enough in a fight, but three largish men had him whipped without a fight. Everyone knew it.
The last thing she heard before the door closed behind him was James shouting, either to her or to Oliver or to both:
"This isn't over! I'll find proof, and then I'll be back!"
20
James
Mary would understand why he'd had to leave without saying goodbye. When it came to distractions, angry conversations were the best, and he'd stirred up a hornet's nest. She had to understand, if she'd heard the conversation—and he knew that she had. That didn't make James feel any better about it.
He let out a long breath and watched the world whip by as he took the train to Canterbury. He'd thought it might be smart for him to take Mary's transcribed copy of the address where they could find this "Pearl" person.
In the end, he'd been right. He hadn't gotten another chance at it. Lucky for him that he hadn't needed a second shot at it. Mark one for preparedness.
He'd been away from her barely a few hours, and he missed her already. It tore at his gut, but he couldn't do anything but keep the promise he'd made her as he left. He'd get his proof, even if it killed him.
He surprised himself when he tried to think of her as someone else's wife, and couldn't. She was his, whether he deserved her or not. Before, he'd thought it was a purely sexual attraction, and he'd regretted every minute they'd spent together the past two nights.
But now, he was beginning to wonder if there weren't something more to it. He felt something deep inside him stirring, and he pushed it away. There would be a time when he would be able to take a look at his feelings and figure out what he had on his hands.
Until then, he needed to be focused on the task at hand. Distractions were dangerous, for himself and for Mary.
The sun was already dipping on the horizon, when the train pulled into the station. It wouldn't be the least bit polite to call, unannounced, so late in the evening. The trip would need to take
"That's not the point," James answered. Mary pressed herself against the wall; they were right through the doorway beside her, and all she had to do was step through. Then they'd all know she was there.
"Of course. So I'm prepared to offer you a severance, in spite of the fact that you don't contest that you have no contract. I think you'll find fifty pounds, plus the one that you've incurred in wage, to be more than fair. Don't you think?"
Mary's eyes fluttered shut. He had the money, she knew. He'd borrowed that much and more from her father.
Some part of her had been willing to accept that everything had been a big misunderstanding. That Oliver had made some bad gambling debts and that they'd needed to be paid off. The rest of it could all have been a series of coincidences.
But a fifty pound severance to a steward that had been working for a week? That was as much an admission of guilt as she would ever receive from him.
For a long time, as Mary held her breath, nobody spoke. Then she heard Oliver again.
"Davis? Richard? Remove this man from my family's estate. He's deranged, and possibly dangerous. Take care with him. He's a large fellow, and he served in His Majesty's armed services, so he'll be capable enough."
Mary chanced a peek out through the door. Four or five large men stood with their backs to her. James was facing toward her, and as soon as she moved her head out she knew that he saw her. He didn't betray it in his face, but something in the hardness of his expression changed. He clenched his jaw and waited for them to come and take him.
Two men stepped forward. A third stepped up to join them, and Mary ducked her head back behind the wall before one of them saw her watching.
She could hear James struggling against them, but it was a losing fight. He was strong, she knew, and without a doubt he was capable enough in a fight, but three largish men had him whipped without a fight. Everyone knew it.
The last thing she heard before the door closed behind him was James shouting, either to her or to Oliver or to both:
"This isn't over! I'll find proof, and then I'll be back!"
20
James
Mary would understand why he'd had to leave without saying goodbye. When it came to distractions, angry conversations were the best, and he'd stirred up a hornet's nest. She had to understand, if she'd heard the conversation—and he knew that she had. That didn't make James feel any better about it.
He let out a long breath and watched the world whip by as he took the train to Canterbury. He'd thought it might be smart for him to take Mary's transcribed copy of the address where they could find this "Pearl" person.
In the end, he'd been right. He hadn't gotten another chance at it. Lucky for him that he hadn't needed a second shot at it. Mark one for preparedness.
He'd been away from her barely a few hours, and he missed her already. It tore at his gut, but he couldn't do anything but keep the promise he'd made her as he left. He'd get his proof, even if it killed him.
He surprised himself when he tried to think of her as someone else's wife, and couldn't. She was his, whether he deserved her or not. Before, he'd thought it was a purely sexual attraction, and he'd regretted every minute they'd spent together the past two nights.
But now, he was beginning to wonder if there weren't something more to it. He felt something deep inside him stirring, and he pushed it away. There would be a time when he would be able to take a look at his feelings and figure out what he had on his hands.
Until then, he needed to be focused on the task at hand. Distractions were dangerous, for himself and for Mary.
The sun was already dipping on the horizon, when the train pulled into the station. It wouldn't be the least bit polite to call, unannounced, so late in the evening. The trip would need to take
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