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ALLISON STOOD IN THE great hall of a beautiful white stone house on Chapel Street in Belgravia, her heart pounding in her chest. Over the last few weeks, she’d looked at dozens of houses, but this was the one for her. She’d felt it the moment she’d walked through the front door.
It had all the modern conveniences that her family’s ancestral piles lacked—indoor plumbing, gas lighting, and a coal furnace. The house wasn’t nearly the size of her brothers’ homes, but it was large enough to entertain, and she’d fallen in love with the walled back garden.
The house was brand new, and the smell of fresh paint and wood filled her senses, so different from the ancient homes she’d grown up in. She loved everything about it.
“What do you think?” she asked Heather the moment the solicitor left them alone to talk about it.
“Well, it really isn’t up to me, is it?” Heather said without rancor. “This is a huge decision, and I don’t want to influence you.”
Allison pouted a little, then spun around in a circle, taking it all in, knowing that her friend was right. This decision was hers to make, and in her heart, she knew she’d already made it.
“I think it’s perfect. I’m going to make an offer today!”
Heather grinned and pulled her in for a hug. “I think it’s perfect too! I was hoping you’d pick this one!”
One of the reasons that Allison liked the house so much was the wonderful servants’ quarters, with large, sunlit rooms that would be comfortable in both the summer and winter. The difference in stations had never been something that had come between her and Heather, but she loved her friend and wanted her to be as comfortable as possible.
Now that she thought about it, she’d never even ventured into the servants’ quarters of her brother’s house. It was frowned upon for the owners of the house to intrude upon the servants’ private space.
Feeling the same sort of disquiet she’d had upon learning that the women of Mercy House did not like the restrictions she’d placed upon them, she forced herself to meet Heather’s gaze. “Are the rooms upstairs agreeable to you? Are they better than those at Hawkesmere House?”
“They are much better,” Heather told her warmly. “I will be very happy here, as will Joseph and whomever else you choose to hire.”
Allison stared at her friend pensively, wishing she could simply give Heather one of the bedrooms on the second floor next to her own, but it just wasn’t done and would cause problems with the other servants. Plus, she very much suspected that Heather would refuse her.
Her excitement somewhat diminished, she went to talk to the agent. Once again, it was entirely clear to her that her life would be entirely different if it were not for Roger's death. Not many women had this sort of power over their own future. Then again, she wouldn’t have this financial freedom if not for the horrible things Roger had done.
