Page 38 of Beneath the Beastly Duke's Mask
The door suddenly opened, revealing a pretty young woman with a little girl hanging on her leg.
“May I help you?” the woman asked. She had to be a few years older than Arabella.
"My name is Arabella Lockhart, and I used to live here," she said. "My uncle sold the house to you and your husband."
"Oh!" the woman cried, understanding dawning on her face. "You are the young lady. It's so wonderful to meet you. This is Charlotte," she said, stroking the top of her daughter's head. "My husband is at work, but he would have loved to have met you. This home is so wonderful, and we're so thankful to have bought it at such a reasonable price."
Arabella smiled. The woman was as talkative as her. “I'm glad you're enjoying the house and making it a home,” she said. “That is what my parents would have wanted.”
“Would you like to come in and have some tea?” she asked. “Oh! I haven't even told you my name yet,” she cried. “It's Ophelia,” she said, holding out her hand.
Arabella shook her hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Ophelia. I would love some tea, but I have an errand to run. Perhaps another time. I just wanted to meet you. I've often wondered about the family living here.”
"Oh, I see," she said. "Perhaps another time. I'm always home unless it's a shopping day or I go out with my mother and mother-in-law. That is usually every Tuesday and Friday."
Ophelia was far too trusting to give such information, or perhaps Arabella came across as a trustworthy person.
"Perhaps I'll send you a note beforehand, and we can get together to have tea," said Arabella. "I have a day off every two weeks."
“That sounds wonderful,” said Ophelia. “I look forward to it. I rarely get visitors, so it's usually just Charlotte and me. And Peter, but he's still a baby and mostly sleeps.”
“As all babies do,” Arabella replied with a warm smile. “Well, I should get going. It was lovely meeting you both.”
“And you,” said Ophelia.
Mother and daughter waved her off before they went back into the house. Arabella slowly walked around the area, greeting a few people here and there. It was good to be in her hometown again, the place where she grew up and had most of her memories.
There was no reason for her to avoid the town because she only recalled all the good things that happened to her. Her parents' deaths were at the back of her mind, but there was too much good to hold on to the bad.
Arabella paused beneath a tree and sat on the grass, pulling a fresh roll, cheese, and fruit from her satchel. The chef had insisted she carry a little food with her because she hadn't eaten that morning. She had been too nervous, and now she didn't know why. Thetford was as lovely as she recalled. She also had a book with her, so she laid out her little cloth with her food and lemonade and had herself a picnic while she did some reading.
Half an hour later, she put her uncle's letter in the book to keep her place and packed away the rest of her food. The letter contained information about the house sale, her inheritance, and how her uncle had ensured she would have easy access to her money with the town bank.
All her expenses—dresses, cosmetics, books, hobby materials—could easily be purchased whenever she needed the money. Arabella was financially stable, giving her the freedom she needed. She didn't have to depend on a job, her family, or a man to live. If she wanted, she could buy a little cottage and live happily ever after with as many animals as she wanted to keep.
However, she sincerely wanted to find the perfect man and get married, but only after she solved the mystery surrounding the duke. Her parents were undoubtedly happy that she was doing well financially but were likely frowning about her working as a maid.
It wasn't what they had wanted. Her parents wanted her happily married to a good man and a baby on the way—which she also wanted—but she was perfectly content at the moment.
Adjusting her satchel against her body, she set off for the bookshop, taken aback when someone suddenly stepped in front of her.
“Arabella Lockhart, is that you?”
She looked up at the tall figure, inwardly groaning when she saw who it was. “Marcus,” she said, taking a step back.
He had been one of the men she rejected a year ago. While good-looking, his ego was bigger than all of England put together, and he never failed to point out how his father was a wealthy baronet. Arabella had never cared about such things, and she didn't care for his way of dismissing anyone he didn't think was good enough to hold his attention.
“How are you, Arabella?” he asked. “My, but you seem to have grown even lovelier.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “How are your parents and brother?”
"Oh, my parents are just fine, and Anthony is also well," he replied.
“That is good to hear,” she said. “Would you excuse me, please? I need to purchase a few books from the bookshop before I return home.”
“Home,” he repeated, not budging. “Funny that you should say home. I heard you're working as amaidfor the beastly duke. To think I offered to marry you, and you turned me down, only to become a maid for that man. How far you have fallen."
Arabella's lips thinned. “I am happy where I am. It was by choice, not necessity.”
