A Vagabond's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 9 - "The vagabond girl turns out to be a lady."

Gigi froze as her heart dropped to her stomach.

"Genevieve," Lord Brixton said.

At the sound of the deep, authoritative voice, Gigi's mouth went dry. She turned around to find Lord Brixton standing in the doorway of his study. He held his hands behind his back. His expression looked as if it was carved from stone. Her heart banged away inside her chest, the sound so loud in her own ears she wondered how it didn't wake the whole manor. The color drained from her face as she waited for his next words.

"Come," he said.

The barely spoken command instantly had her moving forward, even though every part of her wanted to bolt up the stairs. He stepped back into his study and Gigi followed.

Lanterns lining the walls, illuminated a room made up of dark wooden shelves filled with pristine books. An imposing desk lay before two leather chairs. Atop the desk were stacks of neat papers and rectangle parcels. The room smelled of lamp oil, pipe smoke and ink. Moonlight filtered through the clouds and fell in through the only tall window.

Lord Brixton gestured for Gigi to have a seat in one of the chairs. She sat on the edge, her back straight and her hands folded on her lap. She hoped the picture she presented was far from the ragged vagabond she felt herself to be in that moment. Lord Brixton gave her clothes a brief glance. Her cheeks flushed scarlet. Suddenly the loose, worn shirt weighed twice as much.

He turned away and moved to the window. His posture was rigid, his silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. Gigi itched to move, to speak, but she clenched her jaw, keeping her words captive. The clock in the room ticked on, the sound seemed to add to the disapproval that was stifling the air.

"Where were you?" Lord Brixton asked, his voice barely hinting at his emotions.

Gigi swallowed hard, trying to push the words though the dryness in her throat.

"I was out in the square, where the troupe was performing," she said, the words small.

At her response, Lord Brixton faced her. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

The questions of concern broke off a piece of Gigi's worry. She shook her head.

"I am not. I am fine."

Her grandfather nodded, relief touching his hard features. The betrayal of emotion was enough to break the flood gates of her mind and let the tsunami of words gush out, but held them back.

"Genevieve, do you understand how dangerous it was for a young lady like yourself to go out into the city on her own at night?"

Huck popped into Gigi's mind but she held the knowledge of his presence to herself. Her grandfather's worry would be worse if he knew she had been in the company of a man, even if was her cousin.

"I do, sir," she said, gripping her hands.

He gave a slow nod, seeing the sincerity in her eyes.

"My dear child." He walked back to his desk and stood behind the upright, winged chair. "Do you understand now that your position has changed? You are a Lady. Some may want to exploit you for the title you hold. For this reason you must act in a manner that befits your station."

His gaze darted down at the ragged skirt, the skirt that couldn't hold a candle to the gowns she had grown accustomed to. Guilt wiggled its way into her mind, seeing how she looked before him. As if she had tossed aside his kindness. The hours of lessons climbed up her arms and settled on her shoulders, weighing them down. She found she couldn't raise her head, the foolishness of her actions gnawing at her.