The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,4
intention, what’s done is done.” Fixing her hand to her hip, Calliope’s aunt sniffed and looked pointedly at the clock resting on the mantle. “The morning hour grows late, and we are entertaining mourners at noon. If there is nothing else, Mr. Highwater-Cleary, I must kindly ask you to depart.”
“Of course.” But he didn’t move. “I…ah…that is to say, Lady Shillington…”
“Out with it,” she snapped. “I haven’t all day.”
“Very well.” He squared his shoulders. “This is no longer your legal residence. It now belongs in its entirety, with the exception of you and your daughter’s personal effects and belongings, of course, to Miss Haversham.”
The countess’ mouth curled. “What are you implying?”
“I am not implying anything. I am telling you this house is no longer yours, and it is my duty to ensure the earl’s last will and testament is enforced, which means I must ask you to vacate the property with all good haste.”
“We have to leave?” Beatrice said incredulously.
The solicitor nodded. “Indeed. I believe you will find your mother’s settlement more than adequate, and I can recommend several rentals in the Mayfair District that would be available for immediate occupancy–”
“You would have us live in the Mayfair District?” Lady Shillington said, aghast. “It is a veritable den of lower middle class! Not to mention a ten minute ride by carriage to Hyde Park. No. We couldn’t go there. That you would even dare suggest such a thing is a grave insult, sir! No one who is anyone lives in the Mayfair District.”
Mr. Highwater-Cleary stiffened. “I live in the Mayfair District.”
“Oh.” Lady Shillington paused. “Well, you’re a solicitor.”
“You can remain here,” Calliope said quietly. While the idea of moving her aunt and cousin out of the house held immense appeal, she couldn’t in good conscience toss them out on the street. Even though she knew that was precisely what they had been planning to do to her.
“You dear, dear sweet girl.” Dropping her daughter’s hand as if it had suddenly caught fire, Lady Shillington crossed the parlor and wrapped her arms around Calliope in an awkward embrace of flowery perfume and false affection. “I knew you would never cast us out. We’re family, after all.”
“Yes.” Wiggling free, Calliope sprang to her feet and ducked behind a chair before her aunt could grab her again. Clutching the top of the arched wooden backrest, she managed a smile. “We are family.”
And they were. Like it or not, Lady Shillington and Beatrice were the only relatives she had left. Her parents were gone. Her grandparents as well. Now her uncle. The last blood relation she possessed in this vast world of uncertainty was standing four steps away looking at her with thinly veiled dislike.
“This is so very kind of you, Calliope,” Lady Shillington continued to gush. “Isn’t it kind, Beatrice?”
“So very kind,” Beatrice repeated, but she’d not yet learned to mask her true emotions as well as her mother and her voice was tinged with a sarcastic tone that had Mr. Highwater-Cleary’s neatly trimmed eyebrows swooping up towards his thinning hairline. He turned to Calliope.
“Are you certain this is what you want?” he said in a low voice that was for her ears only. “Forgive me for speaking with such frankness, Miss Haversham, but I do not believe your aunt has your best intentions in mind.”
“I know,” Calliope sighed. “But she is my family, and I cannot ask her to abandon her home.”
However much I would like to, she added silently.
After everything her aunt had forced her to endure over the years, from sleeping in a bedroom the size of a broom closet to wearing Beatrice’s old gown to her first ball (and being mocked unbearably for it) to treating her as if she were a servant instead of a niece, it was tempting to point her finger at the door and demand her aunt and cousin leave at once.
She knew no one would blame her. In fact, she was willing to bet a few shillings of her newly inherited fortune that most people – like Mr. Highwater-Cleary – would be baffled as to why she wouldn’t throw them both out at the first opportunity. But Calliope had made a promise to herself long ago that she wouldn’t allow Lady Shillington’s ill treatment to turn her bitter, and it was a promise she intended to keep.
No matter how easy it would be to break it.
“If you’re sure…” said the solicitor doubtfully.
“I am,” Calliope nodded.
He tipped his hat. “You’re a better person than I,