Page 5 of Beyond Her Manner
“In which case I definitely made the right decision.”
Apart from the fact her hair still desperately needed a cut and colour after she’d cancelled her last appointment — she couldn’t risk her card bouncing — Gillian had felt no desire to see anyone other than Bridget. She’d cut off all contact with the village following the wake six weeks ago and had no wish to show her face.
“You still haven’t told me why you decided against it,” Bridget said, following Gillian into the drawing room and seating herself beside a sleeping Agatha.
“Haven’t I?” Gillian was hoping to avoid answering the question. She couldn’t bear to face the village, not after her speech declaring how she would be taking the helm and all the changes she would be making. The humiliation was too much. She’d been lady of the manor all her adult life, and now she was lady of nothing. The villagers looked to Kingsford Manor and herself as a constant in the community. She exhaled slowly, her breath heavy with the weight of everything pressing on her. “Oh, how am I going to show my face in the village again?”
“People understand it isn’t your fault,” Bridget urged as she stroked Agatha’s head.
“It doesn’t change the fact it’s happened. The last thing I need is pity!”
“You’ll have to come out of hiding at some point. We have the summer flower show to organise.”
“I am not hiding,” Gillian bit back as she began pacing the room, knowing it was exactly what she was doing. “Where are we to hold the flower show now? Where are we to hold any event?This building was more than my home; it was the very heart of the village.”
“We’ll have to use the village hall.”
Gillian’s top lip curled.
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Bridget replied with an optimistic grin.
“It’s not so good either. It’s not Kingsford Manor for a start.”
“We’ll manage. Who knows, the new owner might be as amenable to hosting village events as the Carmichaels are — were.”
“No one is as amenable as the Carmichaels,” Gillian replied, pushing aside the thought of having to attend, let alone organise, all the village events in what would be her former home. “We’ve prided ourselves on opening our home to the community, providing them with jobs for over four hundred years, and now we are reduced to this? Simply being one of them?”
Bridget grinned and rolled her eyes.
“We don’t even know much about them,” Gillian added, her voice beginning to crack. “They could be some ghastly city type who will erect a six-foot steel fence around the entire estate.”
“They couldn’t do that even if they tried, not with a public footpath going through it.”
A new thought caused a chill to run through Gillian. “The only reason the footpath is there is because we never disputed it.” She leaned forward in her seat, hand clutching her stomach. “What if the new owner reroutes it around the outside of the estate?”
Knowing she could legally access the grounds and no one could stop her from returning to the land she’d called home had kept Gillian going. Over the years, it had become her escape — a place to be alone, ride Dudley, and find peace.
“Take a breath. If it happens, then we’ll deal with it,” Bridget insisted. “The whole village will. Together.”
Gillian inhaled slowly, trying to push the fear away.
“What time do you have to be out by?” Bridget asked.
“Three o’clock.”
Bridget looked at her watch. “Shouldn’t the removal men be here by now?”
“We are the removal men, Bridget — or women. The staff moved the few items of furniture I was keeping and everything from the kitchen before they left. There are only what’s left of my personal effects boxed in the hall and in here; everything else has already gone into storage.”
“What about all the tapestries and paintings? All the furniture? You can’t leave it all.”
“They are an integral part of the building. You can’t remove them; they’ve been here for centuries. Anyway, where would I put them? I can only store a few personal possessions. It would cost a fortune to store hundred-year-old four-poster beds and thirty-foot banqueting tables. Walter said the new owner was more than happy for them to be left and that they would include them in any future sale. I need them here for when I return.”
Bridget’s eyebrows shot up. “Return?”
“Yes. I have every intention of getting my home back one day.”
“How?”
