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…worried you’ve been for me? How many sleepless nights you’ve spent praying for my safe return?
‘-many social events I’ve had to reschedule because of you?’
Oh, my dear aunt! It’s so nice to know how deeply you care for me.
‘Two balls, three dinner engagements, and one walk in the park with Colonel Spencer - all arranged for nothing! He’s gone to India now, and he’s such an old fool he might actually have taken you!’
Isn’t it wonderful to have such loving relatives? They always give you such a warm welcome home.
Reaching the end of the stairs, she pointed the feather duster as if she meant to skewer me with it. I took a few more steps back.
‘Such a pity,’ I said, meekly lowering my head. ‘I would really have liked to meet Colonel Spencer.’ Preferably with a large mallet in hand and no witnesses.
‘Oh, you would have, would you?’ My aunt’s eyes sparked. ‘To think I might have had you out of the house by now, properly married and taken care of… And now you’re back, costing me even more housekeeping money!’
‘I’m really sorry. Truly, I am.’ A very, very large mallet.
My back hit the door at the end of the corridor, and I was forced to stop. Moments later, a feather duster poked into my ribs. To my relief, there were no hidden spikes or blades.
‘Sorry? That’s not good enough, girl!’
‘I’ll do the dishes for a week aunt,’ I promised.
‘Not good enough!’
I bit my lip. What could be a worse punishment than doing chores?
‘I’ll go out every day to meet as many young men as possible! I’ll attend every ball, every feast, everything there is. I’ll practically throw myself at every young man I come across.’
‘Still not good enough by half! You, young lady, are in need of a thorough dressing-down!’
My eyebrows shot up. Wasn’t she already taking care of that? And most thoroughly to boot?
‘Not by me,’ she told me as if she had read my thoughts. Her voice had a coldness that almost rivalled that of Mr Ambrose. ‘Turn around, girl!’
Reluctantly, I did as she said, and for the first time realized where my backward steps had led me: upstairs, at the very end of the corridor - in the forbidden zone. I stood right before the door that lead to the domain of the dread lord of miserdom, the gates to the lands of death and desolation and spanked bottoms for little five-year-old girls who had been so brazen as to peek inside.
I stood in front of my Uncle Bufford’s study.
I tried to say something, but no more than a croak escaped my mouth. Half turning back to my aunt, I shot her a desperate, pleading look. But she looked back at me like a hangman escorting the prisoner to the gallows.
‘I will see if he’s ready to receive you, girl.’
The door to the study creaked ominously as she opened it to step in. With her inside, for a moment, I considered running. I could be out on the street and away from the study of terrors before anyone could say Jack Robinson. But… where would I go? I had no money to rent a place. I still hadn’t received my first pay cheque. That happy event was still a few days in the future, and the thought that Mr Ambrose might give me an advance was too laughable to think about. And even if I’d had money… I was still a minor. They could haul me home whenever they wished.
‘Girl!’
I jumped. Without my noticing, my Aunt had come out of the room again and was holding the door open for me.
‘He’s ready to receive you. Go in.’
Too late to run now. ‘Aunt, couldn’t you…?’
‘Go! Now!’
Taking a deep breath, I straightened. There was no escape. I had to get a grip and bite the bullet, like any brave soldier faced by inevitable death and dismemberment. Raising my chin in defiance of the enemy, I stepped into the study.
A Study in Golden
