“Who has been filling your head with legal nonsense?”
“I have spoken to Mrs. Fenwick.”
His face hardened.
“You went behind my back.”
“You took the rents for thirteen years.”
“I fed you for thirteen years.”
“You were my father.”
The words landed harder than a shout.
Arthur looked away first.
Then he recovered his anger and advanced toward the desk.
“You think a scrap of paper makes you independent?”
“I think it gives me the right to ask questions.”
He threw the book into the fireplace.
Emily moved before she had time to be afraid.
She seized the iron poker and dragged the volume from the flames.
The leather cover blistered, but the pages had not yet caught.
Arthur grabbed her wrist.
“Leave it.”
“Let go of me.”
He tightened his grip.
A voice spoke from the doorway.
“I believe Miss Harrington has asked you to release her.”
Higgins stood there with the housekeeper, Mrs. Bell.
Arthur stared at the two servants as if they had become strangers.
Mrs. Bell was a broad woman who had worked at Oak Haven since Emily was born.
She stepped into the room without lowering her eyes.
“I saw you throw the book, my lord.”
Arthur released Emily.
“You are dismissed,” he told the housekeeper.
Mrs. Bell folded her hands.
“Then you will owe me six months’ wages.”
Arthur opened his mouth and closed it again.
He had not paid her properly since Christmas.
Emily gathered the scorched book against her chest.
The housekeeper looked at her with a firmness that felt almost like affection.
“Come downstairs, miss.”
“There is a kettle on.”
That night Emily slept in Mrs. Bell’s room with the door locked.
She did not feel victorious.
She felt the exhaustion that comes after years of endurance finally become impossible.
At dawn, she left Oak Haven carrying one trunk, the deed, and a packet of letters from her grandmother.
Higgins walked beside her as far as the lane.
He had resigned before breakfast.
Mrs. Bell would follow after collecting what she could of her wages.
Emily took a room above the village bakery.
The landlady, Mrs. Pike, charged six shillings a week and asked no questions beyond whether her tenant preferred tea or coffee.
Emily chose tea.
She had never been asked such a simple question without someone correcting her answer.
Three days later, Daniel Vale arrived at the bakery.
He wore a plain dark coat and carried his hat in his hands.
