Free Redemption by Rebecca King

bothering to
look out of the window. “They needed an airing, that’s
all.”
    “An
airing,” Lizzie repeated dully. She had never in her life
considered that wool and ribbons needed to be aired but there
Patty’s were, out on the washing line, in the wind and
rain.
    A small
tendril of worry began to filter into her subconscious and stayed
there for her to think about later. Her aunt clearly was not as
together as she first appeared. Was Patty mentally unstable, or
just a little – well – eccentric? Her cousin in Scotland, the
eccentric one, suddenly flashed to the forefront of her mind. Did
eccentricity run in the family?
    “Yes,
dear. They also keep the birds out of the garden.”
    Lizzie
thought about that for a moment, and considered the cake her aunt
had just thrown out of the door. “But I thought you just gave the
cake to the birds?”
    “I did
dear. They do so like cake,” Patty replied.
    Lizzie
decided to let the matter drop for now and helped clear the rest of
the table. Once the room had been tidied, she collected her carpet
bag and followed her aunt up the stairs to the small bedroom that
overlooked the washing line.
    “This is
your room, dear. I will fetch you some clean linen. The wood pile
is out the back, so help yourself if you wish to light the fire in
here. It can get a little chilly at night, especially now that we
are approaching winter. Now then, I need to go and meet with my
sewing circle friends so will be out for a while. Help yourself to
anything you need while I am gone. I shan’t be long.
Ta-ta.”
    Lizzie
opened her mouth to speak only to find herself suddenly alone. She
hurried to the door, followed her aunt down the stairs, and watched
Patty gather up her cloak and knitting and disappear out of the
front door, all the while muttering to herself about making more
stale bread and cakes for tomorrow.
    Silence
descended once she had gone.
    Unsure
what to make of what she had just witnessed, Lizzie sat on one of
the steps and stared at the front door in disbelief. She had
anticipated Derbyshire to be entirely different to London; but not
quite this much. The wilds of the Dales she could live with – just
- if she absolutely had to. However, her aunt’s curious behaviour
was a little startling. Was it just absent mindedness? Or was there
something more disturbing going on? If so, how was she supposed to
deal with it?
    It was
only when she was half-way up the stairs to her room that she
realised her aunt hadn’t given her any linen for the bed. That
wasn’t too bad, she could look for the linen cupboard herself.
However, what bothered her most was that her aunt had gone to the
sewing circle, or so she claimed. Why then, had she taken her
knitting?
    Later
that night, when she was tucked up in her new bed watching the logs
crackle and pop in the fire grate, she reluctantly allowed her
thoughts to turn to London and, in particular, the one man she
least wanted to think about.
    Where
was he? What was he doing? Had he thought about her since they
parted at the ball? Did he know she had left London? Did he
care?
    They
were questions she suspected she would never get answers to now,
and that upset her even more. She wished she could see him one last
time, but knew she couldn’t. The pang of homesickness she felt for
the man, and the life she had left behind was so strong that it
brought tears to her eyes.
    “Ben,”
she whispered, and let the tears fall.
    She
closed her eyes tightly and allowed the memory of his handsome
features to come forth. He seemed a million miles away. In another
world entirely to the one she was forced to live in. She stared
blankly into the fire and willed herself to think of something else
but it was impossible because she couldn’t forget just how
wonderful it had been to be in his arms on that fateful night at
the ball. He was so tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, in
addition to being wonderfully kind and tender. He was everything
she had ever wanted. What