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Chapter Twenty-Five
Ariadne’s morning started with a short trip to the studio. She was currently working on perfecting the shovel’s design, but her mind couldn’t help but return to the lamp again and again. It was indeed her greatest invention and Ariadne wasn’t certain she would ever forget about it.
“Can I do something with it yet?” she murmured under her breath.
Just as she picked up the lamp in her hand, there was some commotion behind her. Moments later, the door burst open and a constable burst in through the door. He had a long stick in his hand that was mostly used to subdue criminals but now he shook it at her. “You girl, out.”
Ariadne scowled at him. How dare he come into the studio like this and threaten her? “This studio belongs to me,” she said calmly. “As it belonged to my father and he passed it on to me upon his death.”
He took out a scroll of paper from his hand and thrust it at her. “The deed seems to say otherwise.”
Frowning, Ariadne stepped forward to receive the paper. Her blood turned cold at what she read in the papers. “This isn’t right,” she said. The paper fell out of her grasp. Behind the constable, Mrs. Tula entered the studio, giving her a wicked smile. “I assume you’ve read the papers. Now you know your true place, girl.”
“This is a lie. This is one of your tricks,” Ariadne snarled, balling her fists at her side. She tried to take a few steps toward the other woman but the constable blocked her path.
Mrs. Tula laughed. “No, my dear. The deed is true. I managed to retrieve it from my late husband's possessions. Turns out your father and he had made a secret deal wherein he was allowed to build the studio but the land remained in his name.”
“My father told me—”
“Your father wasn’t the most reliable man in this world. I remember how he used to forget about you often and leave you to fend for yourselves while he locked himself up in the studio. Poor Ariadne had to run door to door, begging her neighbors for food.”
Ariadne’s anger was rising swiftly. She had buried those memories deep inside her when she had vowed to herself, years ago, that she would never beg again. The old pain seared through her skin. “You’re besmirching my father’s name.”
“I’m only telling you the truth. The constable will show you out,” she said.
“No,” Ariadne made a move toward Mrs. Tula but the constable stopped her. He grabbed her by her elbow, his grip on her rather painful as he started to drag her out of the studio. Ariadne protested against him but it was to no avail. He managed to drag her outside all the while she squirmed. “Let me go.”
“Arrest her, Constable,” Mrs. Tula said matter-of-factly. “I’ll go by your home later to collect the keys. There is nothing valuable inside there to be stolen anyway. I can’t wait to burn all of the trash.”
Ariadne was still struggling in the constable’s hard grip when she managed to stomp on his feet, hard. The constable cursed but his pain caused him to let go of her. Ariadne stepped away from him. The constable looked up, snarling in pain. “Stupid girl. You.” He reached for her hair but then, suddenly, Lord Brexley entered.
“Hold up there,” he said from a few feet away. His walking cane tapped against the muddy street as he drew nearer. He was frowning. “What seems to be the problem here?”
Leda came running behind him, engulfing Ariadne in a tight hug. “Are you all right?” she asked. Ariadne nodded, but the rage was still burning through her. She briefly wondered how Lord Brexley happened to be here.
Leda seemed to have read her thoughts. “Emma urged me to write a letter to him after what Mrs. Tula did yesterday. I told him that she was hell bent on throwing us out and I guessed it wouldn’t be long before she did something drastic. Looks like I was right in my hunch.”
“This girl has illegally possessed this building and the space on which it was built. It is by the complaint of its rightful owner that I’ve evicted her,” the constable said. He continued to scowl at Ariadne.
“It’s a lie!” Ariadne exclaimed. “This land belongs to my father.”
“We can settle this in an amicable manner,” Lord Brexley said calmly. He walked up to Mrs. Tula. “Name your price for the studio and you will have it.”
Ariadne started to protest. She couldn’t accept such help from him. Before she could protest, Mrs. Tula said, “Will you be buying the flats then? All of them?”
Lord Brexley was silent for a beat before he nodded.
“My Lord, you can’t—” Ariadne began but Mrs. Tula cut her off. “If you’re truly so keen to buy then I would suggest you take up the matter with the Duke of Bromswell, for he is the current owner of the flats and the studio.”
“What?” Ariadne said. No, not this must be a mistake. Edward’s father had bought her home. But why?
Mrs. Tula sneered. “A small price to pay to get rid of you from his son’s life.”
Ariadne took a step back as if slapped by her words. “This can’t be true.”
“His grace doesn’t want a woman of your character anywhere near his son,” she said, “so he paid me to send you packing out of here.”
Lord Brexley frowned. “What do Lord Whitely and his father have to do with you? I didn’t know you were familiar with either of them.”
