I could tell he had questions, and was grateful he wasn’t asking them. “Thank you,” I managed.
He left and I stood in the middle of my new room, turning in a slow circle. It was a nice room, really. With its size, it was obviously meant for two maids to share. There was even a small, shuttered, glassless window. It would be miserably cold in the winter, but it was summer now and a window would be welcome, both for ventilation and for light. I tried not to cry as I arranged my possessions, wondering which I should sell.
There was a knock on my door and I wiped my eyes before answering. It was Mr. Thompson, a warm smile on his face. It had been many years since anyone had smiled at me like that. I felt my lips wanting to turn up in response.
“Come downstairs,” he said. “It is time to earn your keep.”
“What?” I asked, blinking in confusion. Did he mean there was a way I could stay with them? I didn’t know what he charged, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford it for long if I didn’t find some sort of work.
“Miss Hodges will give you a free month’s room and board if you tell your story. She’s very curious to hear it. We’d only just had your letter. Come, she needs the distraction.”
A flash of pain crossed his features with his last sentence. Deciding now wasn’t the time to ask him about it, I filed it away for future reference. Mr. Thompson wasn’t a reticent man. He would tell me what was troubling him when he was of a mind to. “Are you sure?” I asked, aware that a month’s rent was much more than my story was worth.
“We’re both sure,” he said.
“Thank you.” I wanted to say more, but I didn’t know what to add.
“Think nothing of it, Mrs. Younge,” he said. To my surprise, he reached out and caught my hand in his, squeezing it lightly before letting go. “It’s the least we can do for a friend. We’ll be waiting for you.” He turned and walked down the steps.
I stared at the hand he’d clasped, aware it was shaking. Sucking in a deep breath, I tried not to think about what I would have done if they hadn’t let me in. I’d often felt unlucky in my life, but not in that moment. Having Mr. Thompson and Miss Hodges as my friends, true friends, was the most fortunate thing that had happened to me since I was a young girl.
Composing myself, I made my way downstairs to Miss Hodges’ apartment. Somehow, they’d contrived a meal for me. I’d eaten sparingly on the road, since I knew that a few extra pennies would be needed in the future. Between bites, I told them everything, including my early suspicions of Mr. Wickham.
“He tried to bribe you with future employment?” Miss Hodges asked when I’d finished. Her eyes were bright with interest, but she seemed smaller than before, and frail. Perhaps I’d just forgotten how tiny she was. “Why not promise you money?”
“Because she might be gullible enough to believe in the promise of employment, but I doubt anyone would be foolish enough to believe his offer of money,” Mr. Thompson said.
“Yes. It would have had to be enough money for me to feel I wouldn’t need to find employment, since allowing him access to Miss Darcy would, obviously, ruin any chance of me finding another position,” I said. “I might have trusted Wickham if he offered me five pounds immediately, but not if he offered me a thousand pounds in the future.”
“Well, you can have employment here,” Miss Hodges said. “I find I am no longer able to carry out the task of managing a lodging house. Mr. Thompson has taken over much of the work, but at the expense of his own employment. If you’re willing to do the work, you would be a Godsend.”
I wasn’t entirely sure how honest her vehemence was, but I was touched by the offer and could little afford to turn it down. Still, I looked to Mr. Thompson, gauging his feelings on the matter. He nodded encouragingly. If anything, he looked hopeful.
Promising myself that I’d be the most worthwhile employee Miss Hodges could have, I smiled my gratitude. “Thank you. It would be a Godsend for me as well.”
Chapter Fourteen
You must have managed to look quite menacing.
It soon became clear that Miss Hodges and Mr. Thompson really did need more help. The job wasn’t a sinecure, but I thought myself up to the task. Dealing with tenants was new to me, but running a household wasn’t.
As I did with every new position I took, I spent the first several days of my new job seated in Miss Hodges’ parlor, familiarizing myself with the books. Everything seemed to be in good order until recent months. About three months ago, Miss Hodges’ handwriting had become shakier, and some of her figures had stopped adding up. As I sat in her parlor, working my way through the errors, I realized one of the lodgers hadn’t paid his rent in months. Miss Hodges had been carrying him. I looked over at her where she dozed in her chair.
“Miss Hodges,” I said, my tone soft enough not to wake her if she was deeply asleep.
“What?” she asked, blinking rapidly.
I smiled, waiting patiently for her to realize who I was and where we were.
“Mrs. Younge,” she said. “How nice of you to sit with me.” Her eyes dropped to the ledger open on the low table before me. She frowned, but then her expression cleared. “How are the books?”
“They’re in good order, Miss Hodges,” I said. At least, they were now that I’d set them right. There was no reason to trouble her with that, though. “This one tenant, though, Mr. Williams, he hasn’t paid his rent in several months.”
She sat up straight in her chair. “He hasn’t?”
“No. He hasn’t.” I shook my head.
“Well, he has to go. This isn’t the first time. I told him, next time, he had to go.”
I nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
She smiled and settled back in her chair. I waited until she dozed off again and retrieved some of the older records. It pained me to do it, but I felt I must confirm that Mr. Williams had indeed been derelict in the past before I carried out her order. I didn’t want to falsely penalize the man.
I was relieved to discover she was not mistaken, and thought maybe I was worrying too much over the recent change in her ledgers. She’d said, after all, that she didn’t have the energy to see to all of her duties. She’d likely been hurrying through the ledgers of late. Well, she wouldn’t need to hurry any longer. I would take care of things for her.
That evening, when Mr. Williams returned from his work, I went to his room, knocking in as authoritative a manner as I could muster. After a moment, I heard footsteps and the door opened. Mr. Williams was a burly man, a bit taller than I was. He looked me up and down in a way I didn’t appreciate.
“Yes? Can I do something for you, miss?” he asked.
“It’s missus,” I corrected. “Mrs. Younge. I’m afraid I have bad news, Mr. Williams. You haven’t paid your rent in three months. You must either pay your back rent by the end of the week or gather your things and depart.”
His brows came together to form a dark line. “Aren’t you the new tenant?”
“I am the newest resident here, and Miss Hodges’ assistant.”
“So says you,” he said. “I’m not handing over a penny.”
“So says Miss Hodges,” I said. “I’m afraid I’m serious, sir. Do you agree to pay your back rent by Saturday?”
He shook his head, his expression mulish. “It’s not my fault the old lady didn’t collect. She didn’t come for it, so I spent it. That’s that. Her own fault.” He leaned a bit closer to me. “If you’re nice about it, I’ll pay next month’s.”
I resisted the urge to slap him, taking a step back. “Are you saying, then, that you refuse to pay your rent?”
“I am,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.
“Then I must ask you to vacate this lodging house.”
He laughed, taking a step back into his room and closing the door.
I stared at the door for a long moment, his chuckling fading as he moved away. I hadn’t anticipated his response, and it filled me with impotent anger. I realized running a place of l
odging wouldn’t be quite the same as managing a household for a landed family. There, everyone had to obey me or face being let go. With Mr. Williams, I had no real power. I could go to the constabulary, but there was no way to know if they would feel moved to help.
I knew someone who would feel moved to help, though. Turning on my heels, I headed for Mr. Thompson’s office, knowing he was working late. I didn’t want to ask for his help, as my purpose there was to free up his time for his work, but I saw no alternative. I only hoped he would have more success than I had. Mr. Williams seemed like a complete ruffian.
I found Mr. Thompson in his office, bent over his desk. The doors to his office were open, although the house was closed for the evening. I stood for a moment in the doorway, the tension leaving me as I watched his graceful hand moving across a page. He was surrounded by candlelight, and looked almost more ethereal than real, like some sort of guardian angel. At least, to me he was.
He looked up and I schooled my expression. I wasn’t sure what look had been on my face, but worried it hadn’t been an appropriate one. I tried not to notice how the candlelight downplayed his scar and missing eye, and heightened his strong jawline and well-formed mouth.
“Mrs. Younge,” he said. “What a pleasant interruption. May I help you with something?”
“I’m afraid so, Mr. Thompson,” I said. It seemed odd to call him that after the thoughts I’d been harboring before he spoke. For the first time, I wondered what his given name was. “One of the tenants needs to be evicted. He hasn’t paid his rent in several months, and now owes four months’ rent. When I offered to give him until the end of the week to supply it, he said he would never pay. I asked him to leave, but I’m afraid he doesn’t recognize that I have the authority to do that.”
“Mr. Williams?” he asked.
“How did you know?”
“He’s been derelict before. Miss Hodges told him he wouldn’t be allowed to shirk his payments again.”
He carefully cleaned his pen before setting it aside and standing. He came around the desk toward me with a purposeful stride.
“Thank you,” I said. “I don’t mean to take up your time with my responsibilities.”
“It’s no trouble,” he said as he led the way back to Mr. Williams’ room. “He isn’t the sort of person Miss Hodges should have rented to.”
I trailed after him, feeling as if I’d somehow failed. I hung back as he knocked on Mr. Williams’ door. I didn’t think having me by his side would help.
“I told you I--” Mr. Williams’ angry rumble broke off when he opened the door to find Mr. Thompson standing there.
“Williams,” Mr. Thompson growled in a much more menacing rumble than I’d ever heard from him. “I understand you were asked to leave.”
I couldn’t see Mr. Thompson’s face from where I stood, but I could see the hard set of his jaw. I tried to picture how his scarred, one-eyed face might look in the dim light in the hall.
“I . . . I was,” Mr. Williams said. “I, uh, I’ll pay my rent, though. I have the money for this month.”
As Mr. Williams’ tone had risen to a pleading whine, I could only assume Mr. Thompson had transformed his visage into something at least as intimidating as the voice he was using.
“And the three other months you’ve missed?”
“I’ll get it to you in a month. Two months at the most.”
“I’m afraid that is not an option,” Mr. Thompson said.
“You’ve done it before.”
“You lost any grace period when you told Mrs. Younge you wouldn’t pay your back rent. You now have only two reasonable alternatives left. Gather your things and leave now, or pay one month’s rent and leave in a week. If you refuse either I’ll be forced to help you find your way out.”
“I’ll go. I’ll go,” Mr. Williams said. “Give me a couple hours. I have a friend with a wheelbarrow. I don’t have much, but I’ll need it. I can’t carry it all at once.”
“I’ll give you one hour to reappear with this wheelbarrow,” Mr. Thompson growled. “If you aren’t back, I’ll chuck everything in this room on the fire.”
“You can’t burn my things,” Mr. Williams gasped.
“The way I see it, they became my things the moment you refused to pay your rent,” Mr. Thompson said. “Your hour’s already started,” he added, stepping aside so he was no longer filling the doorway.
Mr. Williams scuttled past him.
“Williams,” Mr. Thompson said. He held out his hand. “Your key. You won’t need it. I’ll be waiting for you out front.”
Mr. Williams fumbled about, producing the key. He handed it to Mr. Thompson and hurried away, not even looking at me as he rushed past. Mr. Thompson watched him leave before dropping his gaze to meet mine.
“Let’s go in and see if we can pack for him,” he said. “I’ll feel better once his things are out of his room.”
“You offered him an hour,” I said, coming forward. I had no sympathy for Mr. Williams, but I didn’t want to dump his possessions on the street. I was too familiar with the feeling of being turned out to wish it on anyone.
“We’ll keep them just inside the door while we wait for him,” he said.
“You wouldn’t burn them?”
“Of course not.” He grinned at me. “That would make a mess, I’m sure. We’ll keep them for a day or two, but not let him in his room again. If we put them outside, they’d be stolen. I wouldn’t mind if some poor, needy soul ended up with them, but it would probably just be the first dishonest passerby. If he doesn’t come this evening, I’ll make him ransom them.”
“You mean, you’ll charge him for storing them.”
“I put it better.”
“Well, you are the writer,” I replied, giving him a smile.
Mr. Williams did return, just as we’d carried the last of his possessions downstairs. I stood inside, not wishing to interact with the man, as Mr. Thompson helped him secure the lot of it in the wheelbarrow. It did fit, though not well, but they tied it round with twine and I was sure Mr. Williams would be able to move it well enough. With a few murmured words, Mr. Thompson sent our former-tenant on his way. He moved back to the base of the steps, where I joined him. Together, we stood in the dwindling daylight, watching Mr. Williams wheel his possessions down the street.
“You must have managed to look quite menacing,” I said to Mr. Thompson once Mr. Williams was out of sight.
He gestured to his scarred face. “It’s the patch and scar. I look like someone who’s been in real fights.”
“It’s more than that,” I said. “You were very assertive.”
“It helps that I must be four or five inches taller than the fellow.”
I looked up at him, his amused visage turned downward, toward me, and reflected that Mr. Thompson was probably four or five inches taller than most men. He was slim, but I knew he was also strong. I’d seen him do enough heavy work around the house to prove that. I didn’t think the former tenant would know that, though. He should have seen a man of slender build who spent most of his time behind a desk, yet he’d been intimidated.
“Still, I’m surprised at how well your tactics worked,” I said. “I can’t imagine you actually harming anyone. Not over rent, at least.”
“You don’t realize, though, that you aren’t the only one who can act,” he said.
As I watched, the sparkle of laughter in his eye transformed into a chilling glower. His lips curled into a fierce grimace, pulling back from his rows of even white teeth. I had to admit, when coupled with the violent looking scar and the patch over his eye, he really was quite menacing.
Not to me, though. I laughed, shaking my head, and he returned to normal. “You’re right, that was exceedingly scary,” I said. “Much more frightful than the look you actually gave him, I’m sure. If I ever need that look, I’ll signal you like this.” I brought my hand up and pushed my hair back from my face but, instead of letting my hand fall afterwards, I drew a line wit
h my little finger from my forehead to my chin, pausing for a moment beside my eye.
“I’ll remember,” he said with a smile. He offered me his arm and we ascended the front steps.
Chapter Fifteen
Poor man. He actually had to go out and work for a living.
Thinking about how thin Mr. Thompson was, and how Miss Hodges seemed to be growing smaller before my eyes, I employed my skill at managing households to come up with a plan to help everyone in the lodging house eat better. After discussing it with Mr. Thompson and Miss Hodges, I arranged for regular meals for anyone who was willing to pay for them.
Previously, the tenants usually bought their meals from stalls in the street or cooked in the fireplace in their room. After we started offering meals, most of the tenants bought the breakfast every day, and the dinner much of the time. The food wasn’t fancy and the variety was minimal, but we all ate well enough. Having the funds to purchase more food at once helped me broker better deals. It was more profitable to sell me a whole lamb at a discount than to sell smaller cuts for more, but without the assurance they’d all be bought before turning bad.
Though the meals improved our lives and those of our lodgers, they also created too much temptation for the cook. Instead of planning meals that used the supplies I bargained for wisely, she deliberately cooked too much of each day. At first, I thought she was just incompetent and tried to work with her. Eventually, though, after positioning myself near the kitchen, I realized she was selling off the extra food. I was so infuriated that my effort to make all of our lives better was being taken advantage of that I didn’t need Mr. Thompson’s help to sack her.
Miss Hodges and I interviewed new cooks, alerting me to another problem. Miss Hodges’ increasing deterioration was growing out of hand. I’d been trying to ignore her fading health, but could no longer deny that her mind was slipping. I let her offer the job, on the spot, to an incompetent applicant who caught her fancy, not wanting to make a fuss. Once I had the woman settled into the cook’s quarters, I climbed up to my attic room, locked the door, and cried.
Pride & Prejudice Villains Revisited – Redeemed – Reimagined: A Collection of Six Pride and Prejudice Variation Short Stories Page 20