Loving Katrina

Two

The awful heat from this country had dampened Katrina's spirits considerably. It was nice to be able to receive some money from his solicitor in order to obtain new gowns for her and her mother, and passages on the ship to get them here, but Katrina knew she had to save her father. He was in great danger. If she didn't save him, she wouldn't get her full inheritance, and she had gone twenty-four years without money. It was high time she was rewarded.

"Let's hope the attorney is in," Katrina said in a tight voice. "I'm not sure I can tolerate this heat any longer."

"Yes, I'm sure we'll get it soon. Before you know it, we'll be heading back to London." Her mother's shoulders straightened. "Just promise me that you'll be on your best behavior."

Shock washed over her. Best behavior? Had she not been that way since they walked off the ship? "Mother, exactly how do you wish me to act? Have I not been docile this whole time?"

Her mother huffed and shook her head. "I know my daughter well. I realize how upset you have been over this ordeal with your father, but you must put those hostile feelings aside. I don't want to give the solicitor any reason to deny us your inheritance. I can only imagine what your father has told this man about us, and so we must present ourselves as well-bred ladies."

Katrina snorted an unexpected laugh that left her throat. "You have got to be jesting. We are not well-bred ladies, or have you forgotten?"

Her mother scowled. "Katrina, you know I'm quite serious. I have raised you with manners, and I have shown you how to dress and act like a lady—even if our circumstances didn't allow for us to show it very often. However, we are here now, and we will act like refined women. Is that understood?"

"Indubitably," Katrina replied as she lifted her chin, trying her hardest to sound more educated this time. "I suppose my performing skills are well developed since I've been acting most of my life." She struggled to smile since the real feeling running through her right now was not contentment. Far from it, in fact. "Shall we proceed inside now, Mother?"

Her mother patted Katrina's cheek. "That's a good girl."

Katrina followed her mother inside the stuffy building. Several chairs and desks were in the main hall, but nobody occupied the area. The nearest office door was closed. From inside came the deep voices of arguing men.

"Apparently, Mr. Jamison is with another client," her mother stated while walking to a chair and sitting.

Her mother cleared her throat a few times before a fit of coughs shook her chest. Katrina quickly reached into the sleeve at her wrist and pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her mother. The older woman placed the cloth against her mouth until her coughs subsided.

Katrina frowned. Her mother's ailment had been going on for too long and becoming worse by the day. She needed a doctor soon. Hopefully, Katrina would get the money promised as stated in her father's letter that had arrived a little over two months ago. Then they'd be able to pay for her medicine.

The day the letter arrived was so clear in her mind. The tavern had been slow, which meant she and her mother hadn't earned a lot of money. Mother had stepped into the kitchen for a moment when a delivery boy brought in a missive addressed to Miss Katrina Landon. Curious to see who would be sending her correspondence, she quickly opened the paper and read...and then almost fell to the floor in shock. The very man who had abandoned them even before Katrina was born, wanted her to come to Macapá, Brazil. He was sending funds for some new dresses and for traveling expenses. The letter stated he wanted to give Katrina the money he'd set aside for her inheritance, and he wanted to meet with her before he died.

Thinking it was a hoax, Katrina nearly threw the letter in the fire, but then she'd received one of her forewarning visions. She could picture a man with some odd-looking dart being shot into his neck as he stood in a thick jungle. She couldn't see a face, but the man collapsed. The next thing she saw was a house on fire. The trees around the house appeared to be the exact ones that were in her jungle vision. Deep down inside, she knew this was about the letter—about her father. He was in danger.

The very next day after she'd received the letter, a solicitor arrived at their doorstep, explaining he was taking her shopping. It had been a dream-come-true. Still, Katrina was leery of it all. Why would the old man want to give her anything now when he had never acknowledged her as his daughter before?

A bead of sweat ran down her neck, and she swiped her fingers to remove the moisture. Underneath the lacy edge of her bodice, her skin itched. The blasted humidity made her clothes so bothersome.

Across the hall inside the solicitor's office, the men's voices lifted again—one, louder than the other. Obviously, someone wasn't very pleased. She glanced at her mother who was also staring at the closed door.

"If that man doesn't hurry," Katrina stated, "I'll be melted into a puddle by the time he's ready to meet with us."

"As will I, dear."

From her lips to God's ears... Within moments, the door opened and a man stormed out. As soon as he saw Katrina and her mother, he came to a sudden stop. Probably in his early thirties, the man's black bushy eyebrows drew together in a scowl. As he ran his steely blue gaze over Katrina, his upper lip curled in distaste. Huffing, he clamped his hat on his head, and quickly exited the building.

"I wonder what got his breeches in a twist?"

"Katrina dear," her mother snapped, "watch your language."

She threw her mother a confused stare. "What are you talking about? I was watching my language."

From the office door, a man cleared his throat. Katrina whipped her attention to the rotund older man with thinning white hair. She quickly stood as did her mother.

"Good day. You must be Mrs. Lucy Landon and Miss Katrina Landon?"

His smile appeared forced as his gaze moved over both of them. Obviously, he was assessing them to see if they fit the description Katrina's father had probably given. Still, she truly didn't care what her father—or his solicitor—thought of them. She was afraid that if she didn't approve of the lawyer's words, her temper would snap and then her mother could indeed scold her for not watching her language.

The man inhaled sharply, and slowly blew it out between his thinned lips. His tailored clothes and haughty demeanor confirmed his wealthy upbringing. His degrading holier-than-thou attitude greatly offended her. Being raised in the slums of London, she was used to this treatment, but for some reason this man made her feel lower than usual.

The foul names Katrina wanted to call him hung on the tip of her mind, and she tried desperately not to say them—even to the point of clamping her teeth on her tongue. Apparently, this man knew about their dire situation and what type of women they were, thanks to Henry Landon's neglect.

"Indeed we are." Her mother stepped forward first, trying her best to look like a proper, educated, and sophisticated woman.

"Mrs. Landon," he nodded, "I am Mr. Jamison. Would you please come in to my office so we can discuss Mr. Landon's wishes?"

Katrina didn't like the sound of that. His wishes? Did nobody care about her wishes, which right now were to find the nearest body of water, strip off her clothes, and jump into it for a quick cooling down of not only the rising temperature of her body, but her quickly accelerating temper?

I must act like a lady... Starting her performance, she stood tall, inhaled a deep breath, and gave him her best smile.