“What are you going to do?” Teresa asked as Eliza Hennington sat staring out of the office window, referring to the letter that sat on her desk. It was a summons and she’d been expecting it for some time. Fidgeting with her skirt, she tried to make it drape so it blocked the cold draft on her ankles.

 

“I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” Eliza stated, knowing this was a risk, but the leaking roof was hazardous for their stock of educational material that sat in this warehouse. If things didn’t improve, they would have to find new premises, which would mean a big palaver of moving everything, but better that than a roof that leaked.

 

For that reason, she wasn’t overly concerned if this meeting resulted in the end of her lease here. She needed better facilities for her business, because as it was, she ran the risk of water damage on a particularly stormy day.

 

“Will you go see him? You could write instead.”

 

“Of course I will. I’m in half a mind to tell him how I feel about how he treats his tenants.”

 

It wasn’t the first time the issue had been mentioned, but nothing had been done, so she had stopped paying the rent.

 

Now it appeared the owner of the building had finally called for a meeting—a summoning more like. The tone of the note was terse, requesting her presence at the office of his solicitors. From what she understood, Lord Fortescue didn’t spend much time in London. In fact, she’d never met the man. The lease had been signed through an agent, so she’d never had direct dealings with the man.

 

The letter had also threatened serious consequences if she didn’t have the means to pay the arrears. The statement riled her. It was incumbent on him to provide the property she had been promised—one without leaks. She’d specifically explained to the agent the nature of her business, being that most of her products were made of paper, dryness was imperative.

 

“No, he is in town, so I will have a chat with him about my expectations,” Eliza said and stood. The letter didn’t give much notice, so she expected this was a summons made on short notice. No account was made with regards to her schedule, but she hadn’t expected there would be.

 

Moving to the door, she pulled on her coat, gloves and hat and walked out of her office, through the main storeroom and down the stairs to the streets of Lambeth. It would be a trek to cross the Thames to Temple, but she felt it gave her time to prepare what she wanted to say to this man. Prepare her arguments.

 

London Bridge was particularly difficult to cross with both carts and carriages impatiently trying navigate the traverse. It truly was faster to walk across this section of town.

 

The streets grew less busy the closer she got to Temple, which was a neighborhood of offices and clerks, rather than the warehouses and factories of Lambeth. Even the costermongers were better behaved here, and it smelled of lovely rolls from a bakery as she passed, promising herself she would buy some on her way home.

 

Once reaching the right street, she searched for the law office until she found small gold lettering on a door signifying the right law firm. It appeared to be located on the first floor. The stairs were paneled with dark wood and echoed as she walked up.

 

A bespectacled man surveyed her as she appeared in the office decorated with more dark paneling. It made for a quiet office. “Mrs. Eliza Hennington,” she announced to the man. “I believe I am here to see Lord Fortescue.”

 

The man checked the watch nestled in the pocked of his waistcoat. “I will see if he’s prepared to see you.”

 

“I anticipate he will be, because I didn’t walk all this way otherwise,” she said, holding her head high. Acting so forthright wasn’t her natural character, but she was fully prepared for this battle, and would find other premises if she didn’t get her way.

 

Never would she have achieved what she had with her business if she couldn’t stand her ground when she needed to. Granted, she didn’t like needing to when it was avoidable.

 

There had been a time when she’d been too meek in the face of confrontation and disharmony. She hadn’t had the skills to stand her own ground, and she’d worked hard to not place herself in that position again. She was not someone people disused for the own amusement. Not anymore.

 

The clerk returned to the foyer and smiled weakly. “He is prepared to see you now.”

 

“That is very good of him,” she replied calmly, and then they stood awkwardly for a moment. “Where?”

 

The question spurred the clerk into action and he led her down a corridor with more dark wood to a large office with windows, there was a desk over the far side and a fire for warmth. An office much more comfortable than her own. Her footsteps were absorbed by the thick carpet, not drawing the attention of the man scribbling at the desk.

 

Sandy blond hair a shade between blond and brown, and strong bearing. Fine clothes, but he was a lord, so that wasn’t perhaps surprising. The gentry usually dressed well. It didn’t always make them gentle, however. Or even refined.

 

Finally he looked up and then lifted a paper at his side. “Mrs. Hennington. I understand you are in arrears with your rent. I take it you are here to remedy the situation. We wouldn’t wish to expel you on a lovely day as this. You have inventory you could sell, I believe.” His voice was deep and bored. Perhaps she wasn’t the only tenant he’d had to take to task that day.

 

“I do. In fact, I have the funds to pay, but as I have communicated on several occasions, the property is not up to the standard to deserve it.”

 

The man’s eyebrow rose. “Not to standard?” he said in equally bored tone. “Pray tell, what standards do you feel are lacking?”

 

“The roof leaks extensively. I have lost some of the inventory you just mentioned because the property is not fit for purpose. You have seen fit to do little to remedy the situation, so I have seen fit not to pay you.”

 

Truthfully, she was much more nervous than she pretended to be, and hoped desperately that it didn’t show. Men like him tended to capitalize on weakness. In fact, people in general tended to when they came across it. It was a lesson she’d learned to her detriment, and she’d been ill prepared for it.

 

“Are you a widow, Mrs. Hennington?”

 

No, not a widow, simply abandoned. “No.”

 

“And what does your husband say about this?”

 

“He is not available to comment.” In fact, he was off on the other side of the world the last she’d heard, “but I expect he would notice the roof still leaked as well.”

 

Lord Fortescue placed the paper he held back on the desk again. “So this is a protest.”

 

“Very much so. I insist on the property I was promised when I signed the lease, and I gave you ample time to remedy the leaks. At some point, you must bear the responsibility of your actions.”

 

Obviously she knew she had no rights here as a tenant. Refusing to pay the rent for a substandard roof wasn’t enforceable.     

 

“In all respects, I am a good tenant,” she continued, feeling her nerves build for a moment. No, she had to be strong, even as confrontation wasn’t something she enjoyed.

 

“Except that you don’t pay your rent.”

 

“In pursuit of giving you the opportunity to be a good landlord.”

 

“Opportunity,” he said with a smile. “Hennington. Are you by any chance related to Lord Hennington?”

 

This was not something she wished to get into. “My father-in-law.”

 

“Then it is unusual to find you in a warehouse in Lambeth.”

 

These were things she really didn’t want to discuss. This man was taking more of an interest in her than she’d anticipated. Most of the people she dealt with didn’t delve into the details of who the surname was linked to. To the point where her husband and his family were never mentioned. “We are… estranged.”

 

“I see. So this is your business rather than your husband’s.”

 

“It is.” Surely that would have been obvious. How often do wives sign leases on their husband’s behalf? A thought of Caius imposed on her. She hadn’t thought about her husband for a good while. In fact, she wasn’t sure she expected to see him again. As time passed, certainty had solidified that there would be no reconciliation between them.

 

“I will inform you that I was not aware of the issues with the property,” he said.

 

“It has been highlighted several times.”

 

“There seems to be an issue of communications between myself and the agent I employ. The roof will be fixed.”

 

The resolution surprised her. Just like that, he’d conceded. Coming here, she’d expected she would be requested to leave the property, but she was actually winning this standoff. “Then I will pay all outstanding arrears… at such time.”

 

“You do not trust me, Mrs. Hennington?”

 

It was fair to say her trust had been dented. “Promises are easy to break.”

 

“Yes, they are,” he agreed. “Then I will be delighted to surprise you.”

 

“Not surprise. Merely… gladden.”

 

“Gladden, then,” he said with a bow of his head.

 

Her association with this man seemed to have been very fluid throughout this meeting. To her surprise, he found she liked him, and not simple because he promised to fix the leaks, but maybe because he was so certain he would keep his own word.

 

She blushed slightly thinking how easy this had gone. It was the first time in years she’d blushed, or had been around a man who had the capacity to make her blush. “Then I wish you good day,” she stated, not quite sure what to say now. All her arguments had proved unnecessary, he had simply agreed that her perspective was right.

 

It seemed like it had been an equally long time since she’d dealt with a man who actually wanted to help her. Mostly she dealt with employees, or the men of the charity committees whom she sold her educational material to. But no one had dealt with her correctly simply because it was the right thing to do.

 

“Mrs. Hennington,” he said and rose from his chair to give her a proper, sharp bow. “I bid you good day.”

 

“Good day,” she replied. Feeling awkward for a moment, she moved to the door and opened it, slipping outside before he decided to be chivalrous enough to open it for her. Over time, she’d become unaccustomed and uncomfortable so such gestures.

 

Smiling tightly, she passed the clerk on the way out without stopping, and quickly moved down the stairs to the street below.

 

Once outside, she looked up at the building, seeing no one in the windows. Even as she was pleased, there was something disconcerting about the meeting, because she’d found that she actually liked this Lord Fortescue, and it surprised her immensely. Granted it could just be the man’s charm, and the decisiveness in which he’d chosen to remedy the situation.

 

Liking a man was something she’d discarded in the past. Such things were no longer for her, and technically she was a married woman, even if her husband had given up on the association years ago.

 

Still, it was nice to feel that little flutter that a charming man had been very considerate and helpful. On some level, it seemed as if she’d amused him with her stance, her protest. And in return, he’d promised to solve what was a significant problem for her. She was grateful, and felt awkward with the emotion. For so long, she’d been forced to be entirely self-sufficient.

 

No, it would not do for her to think about helpful and charming men. That wasn’t important in her life, and she couldn’t lose sight of what was—her business.  

 

It was time to relegate this encounter as a successful argument won, and nothing more. Likely she would never see him again, but it gladdened her to think of an encounter and a remote association with what seemed like a decent man. Every time she’d send her rent payment to the bank, she would remember.

 

No, time to put this all behind her, provided he fixed the roof. If he didn’t, she would find somewhere else to lease, irrespective of if she found her current landlord interesting. Now where were those lovely rolls she’d promised herself she would buy?

 

**This short story refers to a scene mentioned in The Nuisance Wife, preceding where the story starts, but I had it so clearly visualised, I had to write it.