If he intended to cow her into submitting herself to a life she did not want, then he was sorely mistaken. She had to inform Albert and the rest of the servants of the decision their employer had made. She would have to start writing those recommendations and see them situated in respectable households before she could leave.
Yes, she would do just that.
Now that she had a clear plan, her fear ebbed.
Pushing off the door, she mentally recounted the things she had to do when a jarring knock sounded at the door.
She was not expecting anyone until later in the evening. This would be another unexpected visitor, and if it was anythinglike the first, she was not sure she would like the coming conversation.
2
The knock came again, louder.
Talia frowned, wondering who it could be. The morning was already full of too many unpleasant surprises, and she would not be surprised if it was an even more unpleasant conversation she did not have the stomach for.
For all she knew, it could be Derrick coming to ask for her hand again, heady on the courage his father had no doubt given him. But she was in no mood to entertain or play coy.
Her energy had been drained by the sword that now hung over her head.
Marry or find other accommodations.
Could her day get any worse?
She made to move away from the door, but the knock came more insistently, and she was forced to answer.
“Come back tomorrow,” she called out.
“Me business cannae wait until the morrow, Miss Collins,” the stranger declared. “It is imperative that I speak with ye.”
“I am in nay mood for conversation.”
“Please, Miss Collins,” the stranger begged. “I have to speak with ye.”
Devils!
She turned to the door.
What is it now?
She unlocked the door and opened it, taking a step back to admit whoever it was. Once he stepped inside, she backed away from the door, not looking at him.
Albert appeared at her elbow.
“Daenae worry, Albert,” she told him. “I will see to our guest.”
He nodded, but gave the man behind her a disapproving look and left them alone. She had no doubt he would head to the main kitchen to gossip with the cook and the housekeeper.
Exhaustion weighed her shoulders at the turn of the day’s events. Mr. McCain’s final words hung in the air like a cobweb just out of reach, and all she wanted to do was rid herself of it.
If the new stranger wanted to speak, she would let him. That did not mean she had to listen to anything he had to say.
She vaguely heard the stranger speaking behind her, but for the life of her, she could not make out anything, which was exactly how she had wanted it to go. When he realized it, he would give up and leave her to her grief.
She moved to the small kitchen beside her workroom to make herself some tea. She could always think better when she had had something sweet.
She did not think too much of his presence. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have by now. And she did not offer him tea because she did not think he would stay long,andshe did not want him to stay long.
She needed to be alone to begin writing recommendation letters for the servants, as well as begin sorting her belongings. It was a task that filled her with nostalgia as she looked around the familiar space.
