Beatrice

by King, Rebecca

  “Shall we eat in here?” She suggested when she couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer.

  Ben studied her and wondered if he had crossed an invisible like somewhere along the way, and made her worry that he was pushing for more than she was prepared to give. However, he had asked for nothing more than a repeat of the kiss they had shared in the kitchen, and she had enjoyed that. They had certainly done nothing to cause her alarm in any way. So why did she suddenly look as though she wanted to crawl under the table and hide?

  “I think that’s a good idea,” he murmured.

  They collected the trays of food and, after ensuring that Maud had indeed gone back to bed as instructed, they took a seat on the sofa in the sitting room and began to eat.

  “You seem thoughtful,” Ben declared when the silence had gone on far longer than he was comfortable with.

  Beatrice studied him for several long moments. “Can I ask you something?”

  Ben nodded and waited.

  “You have helped me out so much since we left the church on Sunday that I don’t know how to repay you. I am really extremely grateful to you, but cannot help but think that I have put upon you far too much. I mean, up until Sunday, I didn’t know you at all. Although we saw each other in church on Sunday, the only time we have actually met before was when you picked me up off the floor.” She winced when Ben suddenly grinned.

  That fateful afternoon, three years ago, when she had first set eyes on him, seemed like only yesterday. She had suffered the indignity of stumbling over a loose cobble on the main street in Tipton Hollow, and had landed in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Ben, being the only gentleman nearby, had helped her to stand and made sure that she was alright before he had hurried off. He had been completely unperturbed by the entire event, however was in such a hurry to get away that he hadn’t even bothered to wait for her to thank him. Beatrice meanwhile, had been left to stare after him with her mouth open and her senses awhirl. It was something she had never been able to forget; not least because the memory of it was so stark, so fresh, and so intriguing.

  “I was a heap on the floor,” she muttered glumly.

  “You were a very beautiful heap on the floor,” Ben mused teasingly.

  Beatrice smiled at him. “As I recall, you looked at me as though I was going to lunge for your throat, or drag you down onto the floor with me. You hurried off a fast as your feet would carry you.” Although her words were light and jovial, there was a small tinge of hurt hidden in her voice that Ben couldn’t ignore.

  “I was too stunned for words, Beatrice. You were – are, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.”

  Beatrice’s cheeks flooded with colour. She wasn’t sure quite what to say to that. A wild thrill of delight coursed through her and she stared nonplussed at her plate while she tried to get her wildly swinging emotions under control.

  Ben smiled at her and leaned toward her so he could capture her chin with gentle fingers. He eased her around to face him and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “I have not been able to forget that day; I have to be honest with you. The first time I looked into your face, something changed within me and I haven’t been the same since. Each time I have closed my eyes since, I have seen you. You are there throughout each waking moment. Right now, there is nowhere else I would rather be. I need to be here for me as much as you. Because of the way I feel about you, I cannot sit back and allow anyone to hurt you. Not you, Beatrice.”

  “Ben, I don’t know what to say. You have always seemed so aloof; so unapproachable, that I had no idea you felt this way,” she replied quietly. A part of her was thrilled, but another part of her was incredibly wary. “Each week, at Sunday service, all you seemed to do was glare at me, and I never really knew what I was doing that I offended you so much.”

  Ben scowled “I wasn’t offended. You could never offend me, Beatrice. You are by far the most wonderfully kind, considerate and thoughtful person in the village. Everybody says so and, if I was scowling at you at church on Sunday and it made you feel uncomfortable, then I apologise because it certainly was not intended.” He sighed and studied his plate for a moment while he thought about his determination to go to service just to see her. “I have to be honest with you Beatrice, that while most of the county go to church, I am not an overly religious man. My parents always went to church, and forced me to go, but it was always a burden of mine that I have endeavoured to break myself out of as an adult. However, since I moved here and met you, I have found myself going again, but only because your pew was directly opposite mine.”

  He looked up at her gauge her reaction; she looked more than a little puzzled.

  “You go to church because I am there?” she asked with a small frown. “But you never made any attempt to speak to me.”

  “I know,” he sighed. “That’s always because you hurry out of church after each service as though you just realised that you have left a pot of water on to boil. You don’t even stop to speak to Harriett, or any of your friends. Unless I decided to chase you across the churchyard, I have had little opportunity to speak with you, so had to make do with at least being able to see you.”

  “I always meet with my friends at Harriett’s tea shop on a Monday,” she replied quietly. “I am shocked; I had no idea that you wanted to talk to me too,” she added and meant every word.

  “You wanted to talk to me too?” Ben asked incredulously. He was relieved, yet strangely sad at the thought of all of the time they had wasted when they could have been together.

  She nodded. “After we met on Main Street, I heard that you were new to the area. You were so incredibly handsome; I wanted to know more about you. I asked Harriett about you. She told me that you had just moved in to the Old Bakery on Church Street, but nobody knew all that much else about you.”

  “What do you want to know?” Ben asked, and carefully picked up her hand and held it.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty nine. You?”

  Beatrice smiled. “Twenty four.”

  “What do you do for a job? Do you work?”

  “I work,” Ben replied. “I am an artist. I sell my work through an agent in London, and mainly work on commission. My parents are deceased and I inherited their wealth, although have invested it because I earn more than enough to live a relatively comfortable life.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” Beatrice assured him, and hoped that he didn’t think she was nosing into his private affairs.

  “It is important information, Beatrice. I told you; you didn’t ask. I like fruit cake – a lot, and Eccles cakes, but my favourite food is strawberries. I don’t like going to church; enjoy being out in the countryside, and mainly draw and paint landscapes and still life. I don’t do portraits because I don’t have the patience to coax someone to sit still for as long as it takes to draw anyone, although I would like to do at least one to see how it turns out.”

  Beatrice’s smile dimmed when he looked at her meaningfully for several long moments. “Oh no. Not me.” She shook her head frantically. “You are most definitely not putting my face down on paper.”

  Ben smiled at the mulish tilt of her chin and decided to set the issue aside for now. He had no doubt that at some point during their lifetime together he would coax her to sit for him but, right now, he wasn’t going to push for anything she wasn’t happy with.

  “One thing I want you to understand about all of this, Beatrice, is that while I would prefer it if you were not in danger, and didn’t have all of this mystery to contend with, I am not going to let you deal with it by yourself. I will be with you every step of the way while we solve this. While I do have work to do at home, there is nothing that cannot wait for a few weeks, and cannot fit around my need to help you.” He looked at her a little sheepishly. “One thing I meant to add to my list of ‘likes’, is that I love a good mystery.”

  Beatrice groaned and shook her head. “Oh, so that’s why you are helping me,” she t
eased and smiled when he laughed.

  “What about you? What kind of things do you like?” He asked when the mirth had faded.

  “I love to garden, and enjoy being outside in the sunshine. I want to keep myself busy, but am not sure what I want to do with my life really.”

  “I thought I heard somewhere that you were looking into purchasing Mr Montague’s old haberdashery in the village,” he replied with a frown.

  Was the gossip wrong again?

  Beatrice sighed. “I am still not entirely sure it is the right thing to do. The only reason I thought about buying it was to be able to get out of the house and meet people. I love to sew and make things, and thoroughly enjoy the Circle. We talk while we make things and discuss all sorts of topics, like books and the trips we would like to go on. Purchasing the haberdashery initially seemed like a good idea, especially now that I am here all by myself. You see, I have inherited my parent’s wealth and have invested it, but I cannot keep living off it without putting anything back. At some point the well will run dry, and then I am going to have a serious problem on my hands.”

  Ben nodded. “A shop is going to take a lot of your time up though, Beatrice. In order to be really profitable it is going to have to be open for long hours, and will restrict your ability to, say, have tea with your friends on a Monday. While I fully agree that you need to find something to occupy your time, I just wonder if running this house, and a shop, is a little too much?” He held a hand up when he read her instinctive objection. “I just think that you are young yet. Life can change. You could marry and have children. What then?” He frowned at the table. “While investing in property is always a good idea, why don’t you look at renting the shop out? At least then you won’t have to run it yourself but will have the rental income to live off.”

  “I hadn’t thought about buying the shop to rent it out,” Beatrice admitted with a frown. “Because of everything that has happened around here since Sunday, I really haven’t given it a moment’s thought. At some point I have to sort out the mess in the conservatory, and the study, but I just cannot bring myself to tackle such a mammoth task. I cannot help but think that purchasing the shop will bring yet more problems.” She glanced at him and smiled ruefully. “Right now, I have more than enough to contend with.”

  “I admit that clearing out the study and conservatory will be time consuming jobs, but I will help you with them, if you would like me to?”

  “You have helped me so much already that it doesn’t seem fair to expect you to wade through my uncle’s old things as well.”

  Ben considered his words carefully for a moment while he thought over what he wanted to say. “Beatrice, I want you to think about something for me?” He waited for her to nod and ran a thumb over the backs of her fingers. “I want you to consider our association to be more of a proper relationship, not just a friendship. We are more than just friends; in spite of our shot acquaintance. I think that we owe it to ourselves to consider these wonderful feelings that lie between us and see where they take us. Because of that, I want you to consider letting me become a larger part of your life. Let me help you with this mystery. I can also help you with your uncle’s things, and will offer any advice you need relating to the shop.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair though. I mean, you are doing all of this for me but I cannot return the favour.”

  “The only thing I want in return is for you to consider allowing me to become a more permanent part of your life.”

  Beatrice smiled ruefully at him. “I think you have been dragged into my life whether you want to be here or not.”

  That made him chuckle. “I didn’t do too much screaming and kicking, I assure you.” It was the truth. While he hated the thought that the plant had brought her so much trouble, Fate did appear to be smiling down on them because he had, for once, been in the right place at the right time. It all made him feel as though his relationship with Beatrice was meant to happen.

  “So, can we consider that we are in a relationship now?” Ben asked when Beatrice had started to clear the pots away.

  Beatrice placed the cutlery on top of the plate and turned to face him. She nodded before she could think too carefully about it, and settled comfortably into his arms when he drew her toward him.

  “I warn you now though,” he added with a mock frown. “There is going to be a lot more of this.” He placed a tender kiss on her lips. He leaned back to look into her eyes, and was relieved to find nothing but acceptance, and a little humour, shining back at him. He slid one hand into her hair, and ignored her gasp when his fingers dragged the silken strands of her hair loose and showered them both in pins. Her hair cascaded round her shoulders in a wild mass of silken delight that smelled slightly of lavender, and curled lovingly around his wrists to ensnare him in a gentle hold.

  “This,” he whispered, and captured her lips in a considerably deeper kiss which branded them both and left them both wanting more.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The following morning, Maud was considerably better and was busy clearing away the breakfast pots when there was a knock on the door. Beatrice was in the sitting room doorway by the time the housekeeper reached the hallway.

  They looked at each other in concern.

  Beatrice knew that Mark and Isaac had already gone to London. Ben wasn’t due for another hour and they were not expecting anyone else.

  “Wait here,” she whispered to Maud, and hurried upstairs, into her uncle’s bedroom at the front of the house. Although the black carriage wasn’t at the end of the driveway, she recognised the man on the doorstep: Sigmund Hargraves.

  She quickly made her way back downstairs, and winced when several louder knocks hammered loudly against the front door. She glanced at Maud. “Is the bolt across the back door?”

  Maud suddenly scuttled off to slide the bolt closed, and draw the curtains. Beatrice followed her, and felt her anger begin to build as she watched Maud peer through the gloom at the contents of the table. Without the shutters closed there was just enough light to see, but it was a struggle, and an utterly ridiculous situation to be in.

  Determined not to be cowed by such an odious creature as Hargraves, Beatrice walked up to the kitchen window and slid the curtains back. Her startled gasp was loud as she saw Hargraves, mere inches from the glass on the outside, but she glowered out at him defiantly.

  “I want to talk to you,” Hargraves called through the window.

  “I am going to report you to the police. You have been told to go away, now do so,” Beatrice replied firmly and quite pointedly turned her back.

  She ushered Maud out of the kitchen, and deliberately ignored the threats Hargraves was shouting at her. A desperate glance at the grandfather clock warned her that she had nearly an hour before Ben was due to arrive. Although it was unfair to drag him into another of her problems, she fervently wished that he was there now to help her deal with the persistent little man on her doorstep.

  When the heavy thumps restarted on the front door, Beatrice stopped suddenly in the hallway. Here she was, at twenty four years old; an owner of her own home, frightened into living behind locked doors by one rude, persistent, and vile little man. What chance would she have in life if she was ever challenged by something that threatened her? How would she fare, holding her own against spiteful gossips, if she was cowed by an ill-mannered oaf like Hargraves?

  She had never shied away from anything in her life, yet here she was practically willing Ben to be there to act as a buffer between her and the unpleasant side of life. He had already done so much for her over the last few days; far more than even her uncle had ever bothered to do. Although Ben had said that he didn’t mind, she didn’t want to become the kind of woman who ran to the man in her life for answers and direction on how to live. This was her house; her home; and she had to be the one to defend it.

  “I am independent woman,” she muttered aloud.

  “Pardon?”

  She turned to Maud. “Do you kn
ow what? I am sick of living behind locked doors because of that man. I am a grown up; a woman, and should be able to make my own decisions about what happens in my life. I should be able to walk around my own garden without the threat of him turning up to threaten me off. I have had enough of this.”

  She marched toward the kitchen door with the determination of a general marching off to battle, only to turn around and retrace her steps back into the sitting room. The iron poker was heavy in her hand, but even that didn’t stop her from heading toward the back door, the knob of which was now rattling as Hargraves tried to get in.

  “Beatrice? What are you doing?” Maud demanded as she hurried after her.

  Beatrice ignored her. She slid the bolt back with a loud snap and yanked the door open with the same hand, while the other hand held the poker aloft. She stepped outside, and saw Hargraves’s eyes widen as she charged forward and almost walked into him. Given that he was in her way, she gave him one almighty push and watched him stumble backward with is eyes locked firmly on her weapon.

  “Now, I have told you time and again that I do not have anything of yours,” she shouted as she stomped toward him. She had no idea where the raw fury came from but nothing, and nobody, was going to stop her now. The red mist of anger had descended from somewhere and would not be appeased until this man was out of her sight.

  “You’ll listen to me,” Hargraves spat.

  She swung the poker at him, and watched him stagger back several paces.

  “’Ere, missus, I ain’t here for no trouble,” Hargraves snapped in a voice that was the complete opposite of the urbane gentleman he purported to be.

  “You are nothing but trouble and should go back to the slums where you belong. I don’t know who paid you to get your hands on that plant but, whatever it was, it wasn’t enough to take me on I can assure you. If you think for one second that I am some helpless female you can bully then you can think again.” Her voice was as cold as an arctic frost.