“I don’t understand,” she began, but Birdie only shrugged.
“Neither do I, miss. I only know what the housekeeper said to me this mornin’, that Greta and I was to wash you and fetch you a gown upstairs. If you’ll come this way, we’ll dress ya before ya tray comes this way.”
Beatrix patiently suspended her disbelief as Birdie and Greta retrieved several articles of clothing. To her great relief, the garments were lovely but simple, not ridiculous in either fashion or fabric. Still, they were fresh and clean and finer than any attire Beatrix normally wore.
Only moments after she was dressed, a soft knock at the door was followed by another servant rolling in a cart and wheeling it over to the small table. The covered dishes were set out and tea poured from a delicate pot before the servant left again without having uttered a word.
“Well then, we’ll be off,” Birdie said, tugging Greta’s sleeve. “I’m sure ya can ask for one of us should ya need somethin’.” They curtsied slightly and left the room quickly, and Beatrix noticed the familiar guard beside the door who shut and locked it after them.
“I see that hasn’t changed, at least,” Beatrix said aloud, not caring whether the guard heard her. “So the master of the house has only exchanged one prison for another…”
At least there is something of a diversion in the books, she decided, before wandering over to the shelves and sifting through the titles. She ran her fingertip along the leather-bound spines, cocking her head slightly to read the fine gold printing.
“Careful, you may develop a painful crick in your neck,” a man said behind her, causing Beatrix to jump.
“What are you doing in here?” she cried, turning to face the man.
“Well, it’s my house, and I tend to wander through it as I please,” he answered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. He smirked at her and asked, “Do you see anything that suits your liking?”
Beatrix’s eyes traveled the length of the room before settling on the man. She scoffed and replied, “No, nothing at all.”
The man coughed lightly, embarrassed by her rebuttal. “I’m glad to see you’ve had the chance to freshen up and put on something perhaps more to your liking.”
“What, this old thing? I had it stowed in my travel bag simply on the by chance that I should end up visiting with some noble lord of the manor for a few days,” she answered, rolling her eyes at his attempt at a compliment.
“This conversation is not going as I had intended,” he said by way of explanation, “so I will speak plainly. I had hoped that we might dine together today and have a chat.”
“Well, hope is a dangerous thing. It tends to lead to disappointment of the most severe kind,” she answered in a dull tone, still looking bored as she studied the shelves.
“Then let me rephrase my request,” he said, standing up straighter and speaking seriously. “It is my intention that you dine with me this evening.”
“Why is that?” Beatrix asked, finally turning to face him. She stared him down, taking delight in his uneasiness.
“I wish to discuss our impasse and see what resolution we can reach.”
“I did not realize we were at an impasse,” she answered. “I knew only that I’ve been kidnapped by a terrible stranger, locked in an underground room, then brought up here to be toyed with mercilessly.”
“You have not been kidnapped—”
“Wonderful news! Then I shall be taking my leave now,” she answered, striding towards the door.
“—but I cannot let you depart until I have my mother’s property back,” he said, blocking the door when his arm shot out to grip the frame.
Beatrix stopped, the man’s arm mere inches from her. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of seeing her recoil from the closeness of him. Instead of staring her down, though, he smiled kindly as though to reassure her of his reason for being there.
Beatrix was not so easily won over and refused to return his gentle smile.
“Is there something else you require? I wish to be left alone in my cell,” she stated, noting how he winced at her description of the room.
“I should have thought this would be so much more pleasing to you,” he said, nodding towards the spacious suite.
“What does it matter? A fancy room in the Duke of Snooty’s mansion or a thatched-roof cottage in the wood… tell me, which would you prefer if only one of them meant you were free?”
“Free? Free to rob others and steal that which does not belong to you?” he asked, his temper starting to rise.
Beatrix smiled wickedly, knowing she’d gotten the best of him. “What has convinced you so of my guilt? Did you see me remove your bag?”
“No,” the man finally admitted. “But I do know that you were the ruse your associates used to distract my men and ambush us. You said they were your ‘family,’ if that’s to be believed.”
