Bessie was led to a study full of book shelves. There was a fireplace across the reading table and a set of sofas in the middle of the room. Bessie was then asked to sit in front of the reading table who was apparently Arthur's working space.
"This won't take long. Would you like some tea?" Arthur asked as he rummaged in a pile of papers on top of the table.
Bessie simply shook her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "No, thank you. But I have a question, if you don't mind."
"Pray tell."
With practiced grace, Bessie cleared her throat, her nerves fluttering like caged birds. "I was just wondering how long do I have to work here for the debt to be paid?"
Arthur's gaze shifted to a nearby stack of documents before he retrieved a specific piece of paper. Seated behind his polished desk, he dipped a quill into an inkwell. "Five years."
"F-five years," Bessie repeated, absorbing the weight of the commitment. "And what would happen, let's say, if something happened to me before then?"
Her question caused Arthur to pause, his quill momentarily suspended mid-air. He looked up, a flicker of intrigue dancing in his eyes. "What kind of thing do you think might happen to you, Miss Wildblood?"
"Well, you see, everyone dies at some point, in the end. We just don't know when," Bessie explained matter-of-factly, her gaze steady. "I sort of wanted to know what would happen to the debt if... I wasn't around to be responsible."
An unexpected burst of laughter escaped Arthur's lips, his composed demeanor momentarily shattered. "You're worrying about what would happen to the debt if you die?"
Bessie's cheeks warmed slightly at his amused reaction. "Wouldn't you consider it, Mr. Kingsley?"
Amusement still twinkling in his eyes, Arthur chuckled. "Oh, Miss Wildblood, you are a unique one."
Not entirely sure how to respond, Bessie settled for a small, genuine smile.
"Rest assured, we would find a way to communicate with your family about the debt if such a situation were to arise. Although," Arthur's chuckle lingered, "I believe our concerns might be more centered on mourning your absence than pursuing financial matters." He shook his head in amused disbelief before sliding a paper toward Bessie. "Nevertheless, you need to sign our agreement."
"Yes, Mr. Kingsley."
Bessie took a quill and began signing her name on the space provided. That action of hers made Arthur tilted his head to one side, impressed. "You can read well."
"Yes."
"A maid that can read well. It's rare."
As Bessie finished signing the agreement, Arthur couldn't help but feel intrigued by her past. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying her closely. "What was your life like before coming here?"
Bessie hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should reveal too much. But something in Arthur's gaze made her feel strangely comfortable. "I used to live in the countryside," she finally confessed. "I helped my family take care of the animals and sell livestock for a living."
"Living in the countryside must have been quite a change from the bustling town," Arthur remarked, his tone sympathetic. "What prompted your move to Havenshire?"
Bessie shifted in her seat, her eyes cast down for a moment. "Unfortunately, my parents passed away, leaving my baby sister with no guardian. I had to live with my aunt and her husband, who seems to vex me and my baby sister. And then that's when I was summoned here. To... payback the debt."
Arthur observed the mixture of emotions in Bessie's eyes—sadness, determination, and a touch of vulnerability. "You've certainly been through challenging times," he remarked softly.
"Yes," Bessie replied, looking back up at him. "But I am grateful for this chance to work here and repay my family's debts. It may take five years, but I am determined to fulfill my responsibility."
Arthur admired her resilience and dedication. "Your family must mean a great deal to you."
"They do," Bessie affirmed. "My parents sacrificed so much to provide for me and my sister. It's my turn to support them now."
"I understand the weight of family obligations," Arthur said, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "Sometimes, the expectations placed upon us can be overwhelming."
Bessie sensed that there was more to Arthur's statement than met the eye. She decided to probe further. "You seem burdened by your own responsibilities."
Arthur's gaze faltered for a moment before he composed himself. "It's nothing for you to concern yourself with, Miss Wildblood. My family has its own share of challenges, but we manage to navigate through them."
"I see," Bessie said, respecting his wish not to delve deeper. "If there's anything I can do to assist, please don't hesitate to ask."
"I appreciate your kindness," Arthur replied with a faint smile. "Now that the agreement is signed, we shall begin working together to ensure the terms are met."
After their conversation, Arthur asked Bessie to excuse herself from the study. Once she left the room, he reached for a hidden compartment in his desk and retrieved a small envelope. Inside was the contact information of a discreet and skilled private investigator he occasionally hired for delicate matters.
Knowing that the truth about Bessie's background could affect their arrangement, Arthur decided it was time to dig deeper. He wrote a letter to the investigator, instructing him to discreetly gather information about Bessie's parents, their past, and any other relevant details that could shed light on her situation.
***
Frederick sipped his first whiskey through his hip flask. His eyes narrowed as he avoid the rays of sunlight. His gaze was focused on one person that stood afar. And the only person who noticed that was Abigail, who joined him in the back porch of their mansion.
"She's pretty," Abigail said out softly, taking a seat beside him.
Frederick looked up, "What?"
"Don't play coy with me," Abigail teased gently. "You are watching her like a detective on a stakeout, hoping to catch a glimpse of some hidden treasure amidst the mundane laundry chores. She seems to have captured your attention."
Frederick sighed, but remained silent.
Abigail studied her brother's troubled expression, her curiosity piqued. "Frederick, what's been bothering you? You seem preoccupied with something ever since God knows when."
Frederick tried to brush it off, but Abigail was persistent. She stepped closer, a cunning glint in her eyes. "Come on, brother. You know you can't hide things from me."
He sighed, realizing his sister wouldn't give up easily. "It's just... complicated, Abbie. I can't explain everything right now."
Abigail raised an eyebrow, her mind already spinning with ideas. "Complicated? Well, let's uncomplicate it then. Tell me what's going on, and maybe I can help you."
Frederick looked at her skeptically. "Help me? Said a mere young girl with wild ideas."
Abigail smirked, enjoying the challenge. "You'd be surprised at what I can do. Besides, if you want my help, you'll have to offer something in return."
He arched an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "What do you want?"
"I have my own little secret, you see," she teased, "and I need someone resourceful like you to assist me in getting the information I seek. In exchange, I promise to lend you my hand unravel whatever... it is troubling you."
Frederick hesitated, torn between his desire for help and reluctance to involve his sister in his mess. "It's not a game, Abbie. This is serious."
Abigail's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Oh, I know it's serious. And that's precisely why I want to be involved. So, do we have a deal?"
Frederick couldn't help but chuckle at his sister's determination. "Alright, fine. But remember, this is private. I don't want anyone know. Anyone, including Father or Mother."
Abigail grinned, sensing victory. "Deal! Now spill the beans, brother, and let's get to work on solving your little mystery."
Frederick turned to Bessie, then back at Abigail. And while raising both of his eyebrows, he said to Abigail, "Well, here's what to do."