Page 11 of Beyond Her Manner
“You can deliver them yourself. Or throw them at her. I’ve been inclined to do that a few times. You should take her catback to her too,” he said, pointing to the side of her at one of the windows. “That’s hers un’all.”
“Cat?” Viola said, her eyes shooting to the window, where a black cat was sat, watching them with an air of quiet judgement.
She turned back, only to find the postman sauntering up the drive, whistling to himself. He stepped aside to allow a grocery delivery van to pass, it was right on time. She was desperate for a coffee, but with the delivery from John Lewis with her new coffee machine, crockery, and other essentials like bedding not due until later, she would have to wait.
By the time she’d unpacked the shopping and made it to the drawing room where the cat was last seen, she found it curled up on one of the Chesterfield sofas.
“Hello there,” she greeted the animal. “How did you get in? Did you sneak in when I wasn’t looking?”
The cat opened one eye and then closed it again.
Giving the cat a stroke on the head to gauge its temper, she said, “You’re a cutie, aren’t you?”
The cat purred.
She ran her hand over the sofa. Although clearly old, they both had a worn-in charm that appealed to her. Discovering the place could come partially furnished had been a pleasant surprise.
“I have to kick you out, kitty,” she said, turning to the task at hand. “This is my home now, and I don’t think it will go down too well with your mistress if you move in with me.”
Brushing her hand over the cat’s back, she slipped her other one under it and picked it up, cradling it against her. Grabbing the pile of post on her way out, she carried them both up the driveway, grateful the cat wasn’t putting up a fight. It seemed quite content being held, and although she couldn’t hear it purring over the sound of the gravel crunching underfoot, she could feel the vibration in her chest.
She’d always wanted a cat, but her penthouse in London wasn’t ideal for one, and life on the road made pet ownership difficult. Perhaps having one so close on the property would help her feel more like she had a cat in her life. Reaching the lodge, she pulled the rope hanging from a bell.
“I believe these are yours?” Viola said, handing a pile of letters to Gillian as she opened the door.
“Not content with taking my home and throwing my horse, now you steal my cat?” Gillian said as she took the letters.
Viola let the cat down, and it ran inside. “I’m returning your cat, not stealing it. It was inmyhouse.”
Gillian sniffed.
Was that the woman’s gripe? She thought she had taken her house from her. Technically that was what had happened, but why would she sell her house if she didn’t want to? After the postman’s comment, Viola was beginning to wonder if it was a financial decision, very likely something Gillian had been forced into. A pang of empathy rose inside her for the woman, but then she pushed it away. This woman was worthy of no one’s empathy.
With that thought, Viola gave her a flat smile and turned, calling back, “I’d appreciate it if you’d redirect your post in future.”
The woman’s financial problems weren’t her concern.
CHAPTER 4
Viola woke the next morning to a pressure on her stomach. Peeking through one barely opened eyelid, she spotted a black cat curled up asleep on her.
“Not you again,” she groaned. “You’re going to get me into serious trouble.”
She was of half a mind to shoo the cat off. Instead, she extracted herself from under the duvet and hurriedly dressed under the watchful eye of her new friend. The builders were due to start work today, so she needed to get moving. Just as she finished dressing, the sound of a bell rang through the house. She opened the front door a minute later to discover a man of later years breaking through the seams of a tightly fitted tweed suit.
“Miss Berkley, it is an honour to welcome you to our little village. Or is it ‘Mrs’?”
Viola groaned internally. “Miss.”
“Major Hargreaves, at your service.” He gave a light nod. “Everyone calls me Major. I wonder if I might discuss a matter with you regarding your land?”
Feeling as if she had no choice, she stepped back and gestured for him to come in.
“Thank you,” he said, removing his flat cap as he stepped past her and strode into the great hall, turning into the drawing room without further invitation.
Viola followed.
“Ah, Agatha,” the major mumbled. “Fancy seeing you here.” He turned to Viola to add, “I didn’t realise you’d bought the cat as well as the house.”
