Fenella J. Miller by Christmas At Hartford Hall

he would wish to marry.
    They were so engrossed in their polishing that none of them heard the door open but all three jerked around in shock when Lady Hartford screeched. “Sir James, Miss Culley, I can’t believe my eyes. I’m mortified to find to my guests doing such a task. I shall never live down the shame. Elizabeth, how could you? Go at once to your chamber! Lord Hartford is waiting to speak to you.”
    Elizabeth dropped the polishing rag as if it burnt her fingers. Without looking to see how her disgrace was viewed by the others, she ran from the room. She prayed his lordship was not actually upstairs and that this was merely a ploy to remove her from circulation. As she fled through the house she kept her eyes lowered, not wishing to see the disgust in the eyes of the guests she passed.
    She was breathless when she arrived at the schoolroom. A pair of stony-faced footmen were waiting by the door. These were recently employed, their loyalty firmly with the present Lord Hartford. Determined not to seem perturbed by being sent to her room like a recalcitrant child, she stared at them frostily and stalked past. To her horror, the room was not empty as she had hoped.
    “Well, miss, this is a fine way to repay my generosity, I must say. When her ladyship informed me that first you had disobeyed her direct instructions and then had the temerity to get my daughter’s intended involved in your menial work, I thought she was exaggerating.” He puffed out his cheeks, swelling before her like a barnyard fowl. He certainly was dressed as gaudily as a cockerel, and with his rubicund complexion and bald pate, he was not a man who impressed one with his elegance and gentility.
    Keeping this image in her mind made it easier for her to remain calm and not show how frightened she really was. “Amelia abandoned the decorations, my lord. I had no option but to go down and finish the job myself. I did not invite any of your guests to join me; they were already in the flower room when I arrived.”
    “Do not attempt to excuse yourself, my girl, and try to place the blame on Amelia. I suppose that Sir James offered to polish the furniture as well? No doubt he occupies his leisure hours in such pastimes at Brackenfield?”
    There was no point arguing with him. She must accept whatever punishment he offered. She held his gaze and was pleased to see him flush. “I beg your pardon, my lord, if doing my duty has somehow offended you.”
    His fists clenched and for an awful moment she thought he was going to strike her, then he stepped back, shaking his head. “As my dear wife tells me you are leaving very soon I shall not give you the beating you richly deserve. However, you will remain locked in your chambers until the time comes for your departure.” He looked around the room, taking in the flowers and fruit, the brightly burning fires and abundance of fuel. “There will be no more logs or coal sent up, and as you have more than enough to eat already, there shall only be bread and water in future.”
    He sneered triumphantly as he reached the door. “If you set foot from this chamber six of the oldest servants will be sent packing, without reference or payment. Also if you have any further contact with any of the guests, expect a further six to be tramping through the snow.”
    Somehow, she remained resolute and continued to stare at him disdainfully, but no sooner had the door closed behind him than the cruelty of his decision overwhelmed her. Perhaps he was hoping she would pack her bags and run away today rather than be treated like a prisoner in an institution. He would not get that satisfaction. She would leave on the appointed day with her head held high.

    James was shocked to the core by Lady Hartford’s outburst. In that moment, he came to a momentous decision — he could not possibly associate himself with this family. To have this appalling, vulgar woman as his mother-in-law would be quite impossible. A weight lifted