The Bainbridge Estate

Chapter VII

The first thing I was aware of was that my feet were much too hot and my hands were much too cold. It took a moment and great strength to open my eyes, unsure of what I would face. I saw a fireplace and by the cleaned yet crumbling mantle, I knew I was in my bedroom. I was on the Grecian sofa and someone had moved it closer to the fire. I was covered in wool blankets, heavy, itchy, and warm. The door to my bedroom groaned open and I looked up to see who had entered.

“Miss Margaret!” Anne cooed, rushing to my side. “You woke!” Her wrinkly hands smoothed out my untied hair. “Are you quite warm?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice cracked before I could.

“Oh, dear,” Anne said and she handed me a cup of tea that had been sitting on a table next to me. As I sipped my hot drink, Anne spoke mournfully. “As you slept, your wicked uncle departed for town to fetch the property certificate. He’s buying the land from you.”

I sputtered at this, appalled. “I never consented this!” My voice broke and I continued to drink my tea, enraged.

“I am quite aware, Miss Margaret.” She hmphed irately. “I thank God he’s not buying Henry or myself. We will remain your servants, no matter where we go.”

“Where is Henry?”

“He, my dear, was paid to deliver your uncle to town and to bring him back. Your intelligent uncle knew he would not transport him safely unless he had been bribed, and I must say, Henry has never looked so flustered in his life!”

“But where . . .” Where would we go? This was my house. I had no other! “Does my uncle get all the belongings in the house as well?”

Anne’s birdy face pinched. “I’m afraid so, miss. But I have been gathering together my belongings, Henry’s, and your own, so that when the extra carriage comes back with Henry to take us away, we will be ready to go. Luckily, your mother gave me her favorite books before she passed and several of those I have tucked with my belongings. Other trinkets, such as the vase she received on her wedding day, are mixed with your things and three of the guns your father owned are wrapped in Henry’s things.”

I beamed at her, proud at her conniving scheme. “I assume my chest is my traveling case.”

“Oh, yes. Would you like to see?”

I told her I did and she helped me over to the chest. It was propped open. She unfolded a petticoat of my mother’s and sure enough, there was a vase inside of the cloth. In others, there was my mother’s jewelry, wedding dress and shoes, along with a few carefully wrapped pieces of surviving china.

“Your uncle won’t get everything he’s entitled to,” she said, grinning and I smiled back. “Come, help me finish gathering my things.”

For the next hour we worked, followed by warm cups of tea in my room. We sat and chat, waiting for my uncle’s dreaded return. We spoke about where we would go, deciding on London because I had friends there and enough money to buy a home in the city. I desperately desired to keep the house under my name, but if after several scuffles and periods of terror my uncle still wanted it, so be it. I would give it to him. What I had originally loved about the house was the nostalgia, but Anne provided enough of that.

Henry, my uncle, and the carriage for our departure arrived soon enough. My uncle stormed into the house, shouting, “Get out, you filthy loafers! Get off of MY property!”

“Good God,” Anne commented. We were looking at the portraits of my family, slightly disappointed we would not be able to take them with us. “He sure is obtuse about his purchased inheritance.”