Page 25 of Firethorne
“I think so.” I was still frowning, and Cora noticed.
“Why do you look like you have a thousand questions you need answered?” she said, as she kneaded dough, flour dusted all over her hands and up her arms.
“Probably because I do,” I replied. “But maybe I need to start with the most important one.”
“Which is?”
“Why am I here?”
Cora laughed, but it wasn’t in a mocking way. No. It was in a kind and motherly way.
“Isn’t that the question we all ask ourselves?” she said as she continued to knead the dough.
I went to the island and sat on one of the stools, my eyes fixed on the way her hands twisted and moulded the dough as she hummed to herself. She seemed happy here, content with her life. She even spoke back to Damien, which I guessed not many people did, especially not staff. She fitted in, and yet she appeared normal, like me. Not like them.
“Everyone here is...” I took a moment to think of the right word. A word that wouldn’t insult Cora, seeing as she seemed so attached to the Firethornes. “Different.” Not the best word, but it got my point across.
Cora stopped what she was doing, took a cloth from the counter to wipe her hands, and sat on a stool opposite me.
“Different doesn’t always mean bad. I’ve worked for the Firethorne family for thirty years, and yes, they can be difficult, but there’s so much more beneath the surface.”
“Lysander seems nice,” I said, starting with the positive.
“Lysander has always been the golden child. He was so placid as a baby. The apple of his mother’s eye growing up. But he has his problems, just like the rest of us. He can be vulnerable at times, but he doesn’t show it. He likes to make people happy.”
“I can’t believe they’re brothers,” I said on a whisper, my eyes pinned to the counter in a daze as the words came out before I could stop them. I knew they were half-brothers, but I wasn’t going to disclose that I knew that.
“They’re more alike than you think,” Cora replied. “But Damien is guarded. He doesn’t trust many people. Life hasn’t been kind or fair to him, so he acts accordingly. But I will say, if you are one of the lucky ones, the ones he trusts and accepts into his inner circle, he’ll do anything for you. He’s the kind of man you want on your side.”
Because having him against you is lethal, I wanted to reply, but I kept my thoughts to myself and asked, “And Miriam?”
Cora chuckled.
“Miriam can be a little minx. But I know she has a heart of gold.”
“I know she’s their cousin,” I went on. “And she spends a lot of time here, but where does she live?”
“She lives in the village. Her mother is Mr Firethorne’s sister. But she spent most of her childhood here at the estate. Mr Firethorne practically raised her as his own.”
“And Mr Firethorne? He’s quite... foreboding.”
“He’s firm but fair. He’s always been a good employer to me.” She stared into her lap, smoothing her apron as she spoke. “They’re not like you and me. I know that. They’re aristocrats. The life they’ve lived is a far cry from what we know. But it doesn’t make them bad.” She looked up at me with a pleading yet pleasant smile.
“Just different,” I added with a wry smile.
“Perhaps.” Cora nodded in agreement. “I guess you’re right. But you’ll get used to them soon enough.”
But I wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t get used to secret messages being left for me. Or necklaces with emergency phone numbers on. Or having visitors treat me like I was an object for them to abuse.
I wouldn’t get used to men skulking around the woods like Damien did this morning, or snide comments from the other staff like Beresford.
I wouldn’t get used to any of it. But I was here now. Here for my father. And the minute I’d saved enough money to leave, we’d be out of here.
Chapter Eleven
The Firethornes
