Hawthorne

3 - Heir

Camilla White

Every time yesterday's phone call replays in my head, I cringe.

Mrs Elizabeth's attorney called me to request my presence today on her will's reading and I blatantly told him to read it again because I was the housekeeper and not a family member. 

Thank God the man only chuckled and said: "I know silly, but she requires your presence as well." 

To say that I was shocked was an understatement.

I mean, why would the Duchess want me there?

Is this where I learn that I will finally be fired and kicked out of the Mansion?

Even if it feels like home, even if it is my home, it is not my house and I have no right to demand, ask or even beg to stay there.

"Okay Camilla," I talk to myself before taking a big breath.

The high building is modern and sleek, entirely covered in darkened glassed walls.

The double glass doors, slide open and I head directly towards the reception.

"Good Morning, can I help you?" 

"Good Morning, I have an appointment with Mr Harry Langford?" 

"Let me check," the receptionist says, typing on her keyboard. "Mrs White?" I nod. "You're early, but you can already go up. It's on the tenth floor. Go ahead." 

"Thank you," I tell her with a smile and head towards the elevators.

I press the button and stand awkwardly in front of the metal doors, waiting for one of the five lifts to come down here. This building is probably twenty floors high, if not more...

"I must confess, I am still very much intrigued as to why my aunt would want you here today," a low husky voice startles me from my left side and the hairs on my skin rise in recognition.

When I look over my breath hitches. I knew it was him, but the sight of him is still breathtaking.  It always is.

I start to bow, but his arm catches onto my elbow, pulling me back up. 

"Not many people know I am here so please, don't do it. I hate it," he confesses. "It will only bring unwanted attention." 

The sight of his hand on my arm brings a slight blush to my cheeks but I don't let it stop me from answering him.

"I have been wondering the same thing, Your Grace. All I am interested in is not losing my job," I mumble.

"Why would you lose your job?" he frowns.

"Why would I be able to keep it? I am sure the person who's getting the house won't want a foreigner they don't trust, knowing of their personal life and taking care of their new house. Especially when I am so used to doing things the way the Duchess wanted." 

"Well, you shouldn't be so quick to judge," he frowns down at me and I sigh.

"I am not judging, Your Grace. I'm just taking into account a possible outcome," I answer, my voice thickening with each word. 

By the end, I clear my throat, trying to contain the emotion that overcomes me. He wouldn't understand that is all I have left that is connected to my loved ones.

When I steal a glance at him, he's looking down with a clenched jaw and a pensive look. I enjoy his distracted moment to ogle a little bit. His face is covered with the neatest five o'clock shadow, and his nose is one of the straightest I've ever seen.