Free Beatrice by Rebecca King Page B

as possible. The thought of
having to hand over any amount of control to a husband who would
expect to be head of the household, was something that didn’t sit
too well with her.
    Although
they hadn’t been all that close, life with her uncle had suited her
perfectly. He had lived in his study and only ventured out for
church on Sunday, or mealtimes. She had spent her days doing what
she liked, under the watchful gaze of Maud. It had worked well for
all of them because she had been left to make the important
decisions about the way the house was run without interference, her
uncle had been able to focus on his beloved work, and Maud had been
left to carry out her job as she saw fit. As long as the house was
clean and there was food on the table at mealtimes, her uncle had
been happy, and Beatrice had been relatively content; if a little
bored.
    When the
hallway clock began to chime, Beatrice lay still and counted the
bongs.
    “Oh
Lord, he is going to be here any minute,” she whispered in horror
as she threw the covers back and jumped out of bed. Luckily, her
ankle was now just a little stiff and sore, and no longer painful.
She could now put her weight on it, and was at least able to hurry
to the wash-stand to carry out her ablutions without having to
stumble and hop.
    While
she washed she thought about the meal she had shared with Ben last
night. It had been rather intimate and, although they had been in
the formal dining room, the soft glow of the candlelight and gentle
flicker of the flames from the fire had embraced them both in an
ambience that had been utterly charming.
    A soft
smile curved her lips as she remembered the way his hand had
captured hers while they had sipped their wine. His eyes had seemed
to darken over the solitary candle that had sat on the table
between them, but it was the shimmer of promise in his eyes that
had held her spellbound. The gentle kiss he had given her when he
had reluctantly taken his leave more than an hour later had sealed
that sensual promise, and held her captivated long after he had
turned out of the driveway with one final wave through the
darkness.
    It had been a wonderful evening, she
mused dreamily as she stepped into a clean dress.
    She made
a mental note to thank Maud for the meal, and only then realised
that the house was unusually quiet. There was no clattering of the
grate as Maud swept out the fires, or chinking of pots and pans in
the kitchen as she prepared breakfast. What on earth was going on?
As far as she knew Maud wasn’t due to go to market until tomorrow,
so where could she be?
    A
worried frown marred her brow as she made her way around the bed to
the window. She drew back the curtains and looked out into the
garden in case Maud was pegging the washing out. To her
consternation the garden was empty.
    “What on
earth?” Her frown darkened as she studied a strange bundle of
something at the far end of the garden, right at the edge of the
trees. She studied what looked like a large bundle of rags, but it
didn’t look like a pile of washing. Why would someone leave a pile
of rags at the end of her garden?
    Her
thoughts turned to the strange figure she had seen in the window
yesterday, followed by the visit from the even stranger man. Had he
got anything to do with the object?
    “It
isn’t a man. That’s something somebody has dropped, that’s all,”
she assured nobody in particular as she made her way to the door.
“Maud? Maud, are you at home?” She called as she hurried out into
the hallway.
    Silence
greeted her and she made her way down the stairs.
    “Maud?”
    Maud
usually ran a meticulous household, and kept to a strict timetable
which had not changed since the very first day Beatrice had moved
in. Maud got up at five o’clock, lit the fires, did the first set
of her chores and started to make breakfast at seven. It was now
nearly ten o’clock in the morning, so where was she?
    As she
walked through the house, Beatrice checked each room as she