Once we pull away, I waste no time asking, “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Rochester sent me here on business, but I can’t stay long. I promised him I wouldn’t.”
A sliver of ice pierces my heart, and several more questions beg to be asked.How is he? Is he back to being a wolf already? Are the children happy now that the curse is broken?Pushing all these questions away, I focus on one I think might hurt the least. “What business could Mr. Rochester have regarding me?”
Without a word, she gestures toward the door and lets herself out onto the doorstep.
Nina and I exchange a glance, then follow her. My sister’s fingers find mine and give them a comforting squeeze. I can’t help the way my eyes prick with tears as a result.
We join Bertha on our front stoop, and I see two of Father’s household servants hefting a large chest between them. They appear to have brought it from a coach that awaits along the sidewalk, one I’ve never seen before. I furrow my brow and look to Bertha. “What is this about?”
She waves a hand from the chest to the coach. “It’s all yours, my dear. Courtesy of Mr. Rochester.”
The chest suddenly makes sense, and I narrow my eyes. “I already told him I want none of his money.”
She grimaces. “Well, I suggest you rethink that. He won’t take it back, nor will he accept the coach to return. He has no need for it. It’s in your care now.”
I’m about to argue when Nina elbows me and burns me with a pointed look. Even without words, I know what she’s trying to convey, and she’s right. I don’t have the luxury of being prideful when it comes to money right now. The coach provides an element of confusion, for it couldn’t truly bemine. With that thought comes the horrifying realization that Elliot could have heard about my situation and decided to save me the indignity of walking to a hotel on foot. But how could word have gotten out so fast? And why would he care, anyway?
“Where do you want this?” one of the servants asks as they reach the bottom step.
“I suppose it should go back on the coach.” My words come out slow, a new plan forming as I speak. Maybe I don’t have to stay at a hotel in town after all. Perhaps I can head straight to a more desirable location at once. But where should I go?
The servants pause, then begin to turn around.
“You should at least look inside it first,” Bertha says.
Again, the men pause and look to me for guidance.
I sigh. “Very well. Bring it just inside.”
Nina and I step out of the way while the chest is brought inside. The two men leave it in the middle of the front hall, then take places near the wall, awaiting further instruction. A sudden trepidation washes over me as I approach the chest. Slowly, I lower to my knees before it only to realize I don’t have the key.
Just as I think it, Bertha appears at my side, handing a brass key over my shoulder. I take it from her with trembling fingers and insert it into the keyhole. Once unlocked, I flip the latches. Bracing my hands on the lid, I pause, my pulse racing. Why am I so nervous to open it? I already know what’s inside. Twenty thousand quartz rounds. Payment for a bargain I completed, despite the fact that I forced Elliot to dissolve it.
Nina crouches at my side and puts a soft hand on my back. “Go on,” she whispers.
With a deep breath, I lift the lid. Inside, glittering orbs of smooth quartz greet me, far more dazzling than the small, oddly shaped chips in my purse. Even without counting, it seems like there are far more than twenty thousand rounds inside. But my attention is quickly drawn to what lies on top of the quartz. A letter.
I lift it and scan the script written in a hand I’ve only noted on a few spare scraps here and there—Elliot’s handwriting. A lump rises in my throat as I read it.
Dearest Gemma,
I am gifting you one hundred thousand quartz rounds. Do not try to give it back, I will not accept it. I also leave you this coach and four. Its services, care, and driver have been paid in full for a year in advance. I have instructed the driver to remain with you upon penalty of death. Yes, he now knows who I am and he will not defy me, so don’t even try to send the coach back. You will not defy me either, for I leave you with one final request, demand, and gift.
Go, Gemma. Be free.
And know that, wherever you go, I will always love you.
Elliot.
I’m so torn and confused, for several moments I can only stare at the letter. Then I read it thrice over, puzzling out his words. Why would he leave me with so much money? Why remind me of his love when we parted on such bad terms?
Go, Gemma. Be free.
And why in the name of the saints did he write it with such a somber air, as if it were a will?
Seeking answers, I turn to find Bertha. But she’s already gone.
