“You used tolove me.”
And this, too, she remembered now; his complete inability to see things from anyone’s point of view but his own.
“It’s not about you. Du Montfort has lawyers coming out ofhis ears.”
“You don’t want me around, is that it?” The sweetness was gone from his eyes. “What exactly do you do here? What kind of job has you dressed like this? For God’s sake, Millie, you are just a country girl. Now you’re wearing a chain around your ankle like a geisha. I was the only man that ever loved you.”
He never really loved me. He loved that Iloved him.
“I am sorry, Henry, I still cannot help.”
“I know you, Millie. This isn’t going to end well. Look at yourself, you’re not a spring chicken anymore. These people are rich, and they will use you and throwyou over.”
Memories flashed through her mind. Four months ago, she’d stood in the hallway of her small flat, rooted to the spot while Henry spoke cruel words to humiliate her.
“When they’re finished with you, Millie, what are you going to be? An aging ex-secretary with grey hair and sagging tits.”
She searched for her self-protection.
I don’t need to stand here. I can walk away from him.She turned and walked up the stairs, her feet slow. It was hard to walk away while someone was speaking to her. It was rude, surely.
No. He is rude. I deserve respect. And I will respect myself by walking away from abusive words.
Henry’s voice went up a register as he spoke to her back. “Mills, now, we can make something of this opportunity and make a nest egg for ourselves. You can’t even stay on this steaming island if your boss is sick of you. No. He owns the place, Millie. He can just kick you out. And you would be homeless with nothing to show for all your work but a silly ankle bracelet. Mills?”
Just when she’d made it almost to the top of the stairs, Millie heard footsteps and the squeak of wheels. She looked down to see Joanie walk out to the hall, pushing Du Montfort in his wheelchair. Millie nearly choked. He must have come down in the lift. And with Joanie’s help?
Mrs B and Liamfollowed.
Du Montfort looked intimidating, his face serious, proud, almost regal.
Henry quickly snapped to attention like a sentry and bowed his head. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Henry Wainwright, at your service.” He pulled his briefcase open and produced a business card which no one tookfrom him.
Du Montfort spoke fast,in French.
Millie wanted to laugh. Henry’s French, if it existed at all, probably was no more than ten words. He stared at Du Montfort with a mixture of deference and confusion. It washilarious.
Even more hilarious were the words. She bit the inside of her lip to stop herselflaughing.
“I am sorry, Your Grace. I don’t understand.”
Liam looked up at Millie; he, too, was fighting giggles at the ridiculous “Your Grace.”
Joanie, in a fake heavy French accent, translated. “Ze seigneur, ee says thank you, but we don’t think you are suitable for ze job. The gardens are very big, and we have a big problem with ze dead leaves and grass. You look too thinto do it.”
Henry shook his head and tried for an ingratiating smile while defending his dignity. “I am not thegardener—”
But the old man interrupted him in a voice that had silenced greater men than poor Henry.
Again, Joanie translated. “We asked for a labourer gardener with more muscle. Please take apologies to ze employment office, but we need a strong man.”
“I think there is a misunderstanding. Icame to—”
“Oui, oui,let me translate.” Joanie turned to the old man and said something obscure. Henry waited humbly for the translation.
“We understand, you are not the gardener? But we don’t want the gardener, only the assistant to help collect the refuse.”
Du Montfort looked to Mrs B. “Madame Baxter,s’il vous plaît, demandez au panier pour l’emmener.”
