Until now.
“Paintings and any small items of value first,” the short man said to his henchmen. “Pay particular attention to shiny baubles. Those items will fetch the best prices.”
This cannot be happening.
Saffron gaped as strangers trod all over her carefully washed floors with their dirty boots. What could she do to stop them? She barely had enough notes for a carriage. The shop that had bought her mother’s jewelry was not open until the morning.
She rushed to the bank manager’s side. “P-Please…” She searched her memory for a name. “Mr. Grummet. I am sure we can come to some kind of understanding.”
The man ignored her. He was too busy barking commands at a cart driver outside.
Saffron’s head pounded. She wasn’t a man and therefore was not worth his attention. She clenched her back teeth together. If he would not listen, she wouldmakehim. She had to get allof them out before Angelica or Rosemary came downstairs and discovered they were pillaging the house.
“Mr. Grummet,” she said loudly.
The man spun around, scowling. “Cease your screeching, woman. The terms of the mortgage your brother signed are clear. Upon default, the bank has the right to auction the house and everything inside it. If you have a grievance, you can apply to—”
She stepped forward, donning her best smile. “There will be no need for that, my dear Mr. Grummet. Have you seen our…” She searched the house in her mind for something that would convince the man to leave, something of value she could give to him to stop this madness. She could not remember what she’d eaten the previous day, but she could recall every word of a conversation that had happened more than three years ago. Mr. Grummet had expressed a desire to purchase several of Basil’s books, but Basil had insisted they had not been for sale.
“Our library,” she said. Her face felt as stiff as starched linen. “My father was a collector, you understand. There are several very rare volumes.” She leaned forward. “They could be yours, Mr. Grummet. Not the bank’s. Are you a collector?”
The man narrowed his eyes. “What manner of volumes?”
She knew what she had to say, but she choked on the words. It went against everything that was important to her.
“What are those men doing?”
Saffron jerked her head around so fast that fire erupted in her neck. “Angelica, return to your room. I will deal with this.”
The fear on her sister’s face broke Saffron’s heart anew. Her task was difficult enough without Angelica there to witness it.
Angelica flew down the stairs and linked her arm with Saffron’s, then faced the bank manager.
Mr. Grummet shuffled his feet. “The books?”
“We have never read any of them, of course,” Angelica said before Saffron could speak. “What use do we have for books?” She sniffed. “Take the entire library. It will give us more room for dancing.”
Saffron’s eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. She would mourn the loss later, with Angelica tucked in her arms. The most important thing was to evict the strangers from their home so they could regroup.
The bank manager stuck out a hand. “Might I see those papers, Miss Summersby?”
Saffron realized they were stuck beneath her arm. She hadn’t looked at them. She was too afraid to see what they would say. She shoved them at the man.
Mr. Grummet leafed through a few pages, then nodded. “I must apologize, Miss Summersby. It appears I read the date wrong. You have another month—”
“Three months,” Saffron said. “Many of the books are first editions.”
Mr. Grummet clenched his jaw. “Very well. You have three months to pay what is due before we can legally claim the property.” He snapped his fingers again. The workmen set down the pieces they were carrying and made their way toward the steps.
“An understandable mistake,” Saffron said tightly. The floor dipped and bucked beneath her as if she was on the deck of a ship. She clung to Angelica to keep upright. She could not waver until the awful man was gone.
Only then would she allow herself to feel.
*
The memory ofmen carrying armfuls of books down the steps would haunt Saffron for the rest of her life. They had treatedthose precious items like any other trinket, letting the covers flop open without a care for the spines. It was enough to make her bite her tongue to keep from screaming. Saffron peered out the small window of the hired carriage. Water droplets flicked the glass and trailed away in long lines, clinging to the window before whipping away into the night. The woods on either side of the road blurred past, a stream of brown and green like two paints that had spilled together. The rain hammered against the roof and drowned out the rattling of the wheels.
That morning she had penned letters in response to three families seeking a governess, but she had little hope they would respond. There were many young ladies applying, and not enough positions available.
