Chapter Eleven: Blood Moon by Rosaline Saul
JOSEPH CAME TO fetch her personally.
After she said goodbye to her parents, he helped her into the coach, without either one of them saying a word. The coach bumped and jumped under them on the uneven road. The road to London twisted and turned.
“You are very quiet,” he broke the silence.
Maggie had been sitting, staring vacantly through the tiny window to her side. Her hands were gripped together in her lap and she was surprised when he spoke. She glanced at him, before she replied, “I think apprehensive would be a more appropriate word.”
“Are you a nervous traveller? I know you prefer to walk rather than make use of a coach, judging from the fact you walked home in the rain the first day we met.” He looked at her concerned. “Is the coach going too fast for you?”
Maggie shook her head. She was deeply conscious of his close physical proximity to her in the confined space of the coach. It was an effort just to breathe normally. To ignore the fast pulsing of her bloodstream. Her entire response to his nearness.
“Then perhaps you are upset because I whisked you away with me.”
“I am not upset; I need this position.”
“I need to make one thing clear, Maggie. I do not regard you as a member of my staff.”
She stiffened. Her quick sideways glance was wary. “I do not understand. You offered me employment.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But I would much rather we worked together. Even be friends.”
Unexplained pain lanced through her. “That cannot happen,” she emphasised each word.
“Why not? After all, you will live under my roof, you will be a member of my family.”
“You are paying me a salary, and that makes me an employee,” she insisted. “I would not want it any other way. And while we are on the subject, I would rather you address me more formally.”
There was a moment of silence. “What do you wish to be called?”
She bit her lip. “How did you address Beatrice's previous companion?”
“As Madame Anne.”
“Then maybe we should be equally formal.”
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “The two cases are hardly the same. Madame Anne was a much older woman, and she did not have hair like fire or a mouth that looked as if it tasted like honey. You see the difficulty?”
“If you persist with remarks like those, it will not only be difficult but really impossible for me to work for you. Maybe you should stop the coach right now and I will walk home from here.”
His eyes glittered with amusement. “I am forbidden to give you even the mildest compliment?”
Maggie was aware he was laughing at her. “Not at all, as long as it is directed at your future wife.”
“How dull,” he complained.
Maggie swallowed. “If that is how you feel, maybe you should reconsider getting married.”
“Put your mind at ease, I am becoming more reconciled to my fate with every day that passes.”
“Can you say the same about your future wife?”
“You tell me.”
“And if Beatrice will not accept this marriage you are forcing upon her, what then?”
“I have every faith in your powers of persuasion.”
“I pity Beatrice.”
He shook his head. “You need not pity her. She will be happy. She needs someone who will look after her and prevent her from doing something that will ruin her life.”
“Like marrying the wrong man,” Maggie said bitterly.
He smiled at her. “By the time the wedding takes place, she will not be thinking she is marrying the wrong man, I guarantee it.”
An emotion of anger mixed with a good measure of envy stirred in Maggie. “Heaven help her.”
“They say the best marriages are made there.”
The undercurrent of laughter in his voice made her angry. She said dismissively, “I think whoever they are, talks a lot of nonsense.”
They had arrived in the city, and the coach slowed down considerably as it navigated its way along the crowded streets. When they turned a corner, Manor Burke stood proudly amongst the other houses of London. She had expected something a lot statelier and grand, even intimidating, but the house looked surprisingly welcoming.
She looked up at the four-storey building and murmured softly, “It is beautiful.” She did not realise he could hear her until she caught a flicker of a smile on his lips.
The coach negotiated a gateway to the side of the house and drove into a large paved courtyard. They had barely stopped at the foot of a flight of stairs which led to a massive timber door when Beatrice came running out of the house to meet them. “Maggie, you came. I did not think it would happen. Not when Joseph set his latest prison guard on me.” She gave Joseph a venomous look as he stepped from the coach.
He said, “Mark is not your prison guard. I asked him to keep an eye on you, that is all.”
“It is not needed,” Beatrice said rebelliously.
“I cannot think why you thought of him as your prison guard,” Joseph said coldly. “He is here for business and it is more convenient for him to stay in the house. His presence should not affect you. In fact, I do not want you to speak one word to him.”
“Not speak to him!” Beatrice's voice pitched. “Someone I have known my entire life? Of course, I shall talk to him.” She grabbed Maggie's hand, and said excitedly, “Come and see your room.”
“My luggage.” Maggie hesitated.
“It will be taken to your room.” Beatrice tugged Maggie into the house.
Maggie found herself in a big, shadowy hall with timber panelling, a large open staircase, and wooden floorboards. Narrow windows permitted pools of sunlight. She was pulled toward the stairs and Maggie noticed several closed doors spaced evenly at intervals around the large hall.
On the second landing, they turned left down a short corridor until Beatrice stopped and opened a door with a flourish, before stepping aside. “Here you are.”
It was the biggest bedroom; Maggie had ever seen. Her eyes took in the huge bed which dominated the room, its canopy and curtains in pearl silk and a matching bedspread embroidered in golden thread. The rest of the furniture was made of a dark wood. The far wall had tall shuttered windows and the wooden floorboards were covered in beautiful tapestry rugs in hues of gold and ivory.
“My room is on the first landing,” Beatrice said. “Do you think you will be comfortable here?”
Maggie took a deep breath. “More than just comfortable. It is all quite wonderful. I can hardly believe it.”
Beatrice shrugged. “It is all very old fashioned and Joseph refuses to change anything.” She pointed to a silken rope beside the bed. “If you need anything, ring the bell and one of the maids will come.” She turned to leave the room. “When you are ready, come down for lunch and we will eat.” At the door, she looked back and lowering her voice, she said, “And later we will talk. Make plans.” She vanished, leaving Maggie feeling a little apprehensive.
Maggie took another look around the room, her gaze stopping on the bed, wondering if it was as comfortable and luxurious as it appeared.
Impulsively, she ran across the room and took a flying leap as soon as she reached the bed, landing in the middle of it. She turned over onto her back and tossed her arms to her sides. She stared up at the silk canopy above her. She wondered if this is what it felt like to float on a cloud? She predicted she will sleep well in this bed.
A tap on the door announced the arrival of her suitcase.
Without lifting herself off the bed, she called, “Come in.” As the door opened, she said, “Please leave my bag by the cupboard, I shall unpack it later.”
“As you wish.” The amused voice vaulted her into an upright position, and quickly she started to pull down her rumpled skirts, which were bundled around her knees.
A shocked colour tinted her cheeks as Joseph walked across the room to the cupboard. “I am sorry to have startled you. I decided to bring your bag myself so I could make sure you have everything you need.”
Somehow, she had lost her voice.
He walked back across the room to stop at the foot of the bed. Looking down at her, smiling faintly, he stated, “You like the bed.” His voice was soft, when he said, “This room is considered to be a respectable distance from my room on the top landing. I want you to feel safe here.”
Continue reading Chapter 12/17
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