I felt wrong, terminally wrong, for allowing these thoughts about her to enter my mind.
She was looking for work. She was a young woman who needed help. Maggie had even told me she’d been in tears, terrified of the mess she’d left back home. I could help her, and in turn, she’d want to help me. She’d be indebted to me, and loyal; everything I was looking for, and more. Seeing her as anything more than an asset to the business would be a very foolish move, and I knew that.
There was her experience, too, with death, and illness, and being generally useful. I could use someone like that. She could be perfect for Crowthorne House, absolutely perfect.
And here I wanted to tear her robe off like a monster.
I paced the room, calming myself, so that she wouldn’t detect any of these feelings I wanted to disguise.
My eyes fell on the heavy, ornate wooden carving of the crow which stood faithfully on its tall column by the window. I observed its knowing eyes, its proud, detailed coat of feathers, tufted at the collar, the curve of its aloof beak. The emblem of Crowthorne since long before my childhood; my companion, for all this time. His constant presence reminded me what truly mattered when I was in times of crisis. I tapped his beak for good luck.
She was waiting for me, dutifully, in the meeting parlour when I arrived. She rose when I entered, but I gestured for her to sit. I busied myself with making two cups of tea, remembering how she liked hers – sweet, and milky.
“Now that you’ve slept on it, are you still certain you’dlike to work here?” I asked, setting her tea down in front of her. “Because if you like, I can have a car take you home in comfort.”
She looked alarmed for a moment, with her dark eyes – which so resembled my own – ablaze with fear.
“I could still have the damage repaired at your house, Grace, with my contractors. If you’re worried about the bill, I want you to stop immediately. I can see from our account logs that you’ve already paid for your mother’s service in full; it’s a hefty sum. The cost of a window repair, some brickwork and plastering, maybe, the labour...it’s hardly a dent by comparison,” I said.
“You’re so kind,” she said, gulping. “But I have some money. My parents were morbid folk...they had money set aside for their own funerals. There was enough to cover my father’s costs, and my mother’s when her time came. I managed to spare enough to tide me over for a short while until I find my feet. I can pay for the window, if you’d be kind enough to send your trusted contractors to my address at Heather House.”
“Nonsense, Grace. Consider it paid,” I said abruptly. I couldn’t stand to dance around a good deed like that.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. She was flushing pink at the neck, and she wanted to look at anything but me.
“It’s Nicholas. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you still wish to work here, having had some time to think it over?”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “Very definitely, I do.”
It was music to my shameful ears, even against my better judgement. Hiring someone I was so attracted to could be a big mistake.
I sat back on the arm of my sofa and watched Grace’s face for a moment; saw how her expression changed as she finally looked back at me, noticing things, wondering things. The youthful curiosity in her eyes made her seem so much younger than her twenty-one years, as if that wasn’t young enough, and yet in other ways, she seemed older than me. I wondered about her, too, and we shared a silence, listening to the low crackling of the fire.
I slapped my knees and stood up. “Well then. We’d better take a tour around the house so you can get your bearings. After that, we’ve a lot of work to get to.”
“Nicholas,” she said, her voice sounding timid and a little afraid. “Could I ask you something?”
I smiled at her child-like question. Of course she could ask. She was already asking.
“Of course,” I said.
She cleared her throat, looking down at her lap with a frown. “I was told you were...that you could be rather brusque. But you’ve given me a place to stay, and you’ve decided to take me on without even really knowing – ”
I chuckled, wondering who could have told her that. There were so many people delivering our funeral care now that I met more staff than I would ever remember.
“Are you complaining?” I asked.
“No, no, of course not,” she said.
“Then don’t think too deeply on it. I have a hunch about you, and if I’m wrong, I’ll drop you to the train station myself,” I said, making for the door. I had it halfway open when her small voice spoke up behind me once more.
“Butwhy?”
Sighing, I smiled. She really seemed perfect. Not oneto be easily dismissed. One to ask questions, eager to understand. I knew she’d infuriate me at some point, and I liked that.
“What are you really asking me, Grace? You know, you remind me of someone I knew a long time ago, when they were your age.”
“Louisa,” she said softly, blushing as the small word left her mouth.
