The Girl in the Gatehouse by Julie Klassen Read Free Book Online Page B

legs giving him the look of a stuffed goose on peg legs. One of his arms was crooked behind his back, the other bore a green ledger. Mariah’s heartbeat began to quicken in time with the man’s choppy, brisk steps.
    When she opened the door to him, he lifted his black hat in the faintest of acknowledgements before replacing it on thin fawn-colored hair.
    “Miss Aubrey. How do you do. I am Hammersmith, steward to – ”
    “Yes, I know who you are. Won’t you come in, Mr. Hammersmith?”
    “Thank you, no. This won’t take a minute.” He adjusted his spectacles but did not open the thick ledger. Mariah wondered if he carried it merely as a sort of shield. “I am here to inform you of an increase in your rent to twenty pounds per quarter, effective immediately. You have until the thirtieth of April to pay or vacate the premises.”
    Twenty by the thirtieth? Impossible. That was only six weeks away. It had been nearly a month since Henry took the manuscript, and she had yet to hear one word from him. Had the publisher even looked at the book yet? What else could she sell? She thought of her aunt’s chest. But surely if Aunt Fran had possessed anything of value, she would not have left it in the gatehouse attic.
    How could she raise the funds?
    Mariah was on her feet, pacing. So when a knock sounded on the kitchen door, she answered it herself.
    Her aunt’s man, Jeremiah Martin, stood there, letter in hand, looking decidedly uncomfortable. There would be no further summons to Francesca’s bedside. What could he want?
    “Hello, Martin. May I help you?”
    He breathed in slowly. “Unlikely, I fear.”
    There was a quiet dignity about him, Mariah noticed, though he could not be an educated man.
    “Did you need something?”
    “I don’t need much, Miss Aubrey, you will find. And I am useful in my way.”
    “I am sorry. I don’t – ”
    “Your aunt has left me to you.”
    Confusion buzzed in Mariah’s brain. “Excuse me?”
    The man sighed and handed her the folded paper in his hand. “I trust this will explain her wishes.”
    Frowning, Mariah unfolded the sheet and saw that it was a brief letter signed by her aunt. The words seemed out of focus, so little sense did they make.
    Mariah,
    I leave you my manservant, Jeremiah Martin. He has been with me for more than a decade, the only servant I brought with me when I remarried, for reasons which would take longer to write down than I have left.
    Hugh has never liked him and will no doubt sack him before the last shovel of dirt fills my grave. So, I give him to you. I have left him a bit of money, and he shall work for you in return, for as long as he is able, or until Hugh runs you off the place. Insufferable boy. Never liked me, of course. And never approved of my letting you have the gatehouse. Did it to irk him, you know. Well, until we meet again on the other side of that river.
    Francesca Prin-Hallsey
    “I don’t know what to say.”
    “That’s all right, miss. Never cared for chatty girls. Look, I know it’s irregular. So either tell me where to sleep or send me on my way. Makes no nevermind to me.”
    Dixon appeared at Mariah’s elbow and asked in a terse whisper, “What does he want?”
    Wordlessly, she handed the letter to her. While Dixon read it, Mariah’s eyes were drawn to the man’s hunched shoulder and hook. It was difficult to look, but almost impossible to look away.
    “Saints preserve us,” Dixon muttered. “We don’t want him here.”
    Mariah forced a smile. “Would you excuse us one moment, Martin?”
    “Aye.”
    Mariah closed the door gently and turned to Dixon, a finger to her lips.
    Dixon whispered, “The old lady must have lost her mind when she lost her health. Him, here, with the two of us? In this little place?”
    “You read the letter; he’ll have no place to go.”
    “I could tell him where to – ”
    “Dixon, that is not very kind in you.”
    “Have you smelt the man, Mariah?”
    “Perhaps we can devise a way to