Christmas Eve, four years later
Heidi placed her hands on her hips and glared at the local butcher Mr. Jones. The elderly man's mouth was moving, but she did not appreciate the words coming out of his lying lips.
"You promised you would save me two pigs for my Christmas supper and town ball. You know we hold one each year at the hall, and now you're telling me there will be nothing for the guests? I cannot merely serve them seafood and turkey, not everyone enjoys such fare, and it will mean people like you and me, Mr. Jones, people who work hard and labor for their funds, will go hungry."
The older man rolled his hands together, a deep shade of pink kissing his already mottled cheeks. Heidi continued to glare at him, wanting him to feel embarrassed and lowly. How could he do this to her?
"Apologies again, Miss Lewis, but I did not think to keep the pork. As much as I do not wish to remind you, it took you several weeks to pay for last year's Christmas fare, and I cannot survive trading with such charity. Another local ordered and paid for the pigs in full, and I had to think of my family and business. I'm sorry, miss. I have not done this to be unkind."
She scoffed, turning away not only out of anger, but because his words made her eyes fill with tears, and she would not let the local butcher or her cook, her only live-in staff, know how much such truths hurt. "Need I remind you that I saw you making merry with the food I purchased for the ball last year? Perhaps you should not attend the village ball this year since we're not worthy of the food you sell. You are only interested in selling to those with titles and influence."
These past two years since her parents died of a respiratory disease had not been easy, and she had done all she could to reverse the damage her parents had bestowed upon the family purse. But there was only so much she could do, and only so long she could pretend to be something she was not.
Mr. Jones's reminder that she was poor and growing poorer every passing year was a reality she had not wanted to face.
Her annual Christmas party had been a yearly tradition that her grandparents had started in the village, and she had wanted to continue it. But this year, the first time she would not serve pork seemed like the first death knell to her Christmas cheer and her status in the community.
"Come, Miss Lewis. I meant no harm," he argued with her.
She shook her head, disappointed in the man more than she thought she ever would be. "I thank you for your honesty, Mr. Jones. Good day to you," she said, leaving the small shop and starting up the village's main thoroughfare to her home.
The seaside village was picturesque and overlooked the sea and the many ships that passed on their way to London.
She glanced up to the sandy shoreline that the town sat against, the ragged cliffs some miles away, and the great estate that loomed over all of them.
Viscount Levinstone's grand Tudor estate was one she had once loved to visit and had spent many a happy day on the extensive grounds. The then viscount's son, Matthew, was her closest friend, but even he, too, had turned on her because of her dwindling financial means. Not to mention the horrible woman he betrothed himself to.
A shiver stole through her at the memory of the woman and her harsh words that had cut her to shreds. Well, that was not entirely true. Matthew's inaction against his future wife had cut deeper still.
How was it that when one needed most friendships and support, people turned their backs, looked the other way, and no longer cared?
Not that she believed Lord Levinstone cared now, for he did not. In fact, she knew who it was that had ordered all the pigs, and the bastard had done so merely to beat her, to ruin what could potentially be her last Christmas party in the town hall. As host in any case.
She ought to travel up to the grand estate and have her opinion shared on what she thought of the obnoxious bachelor and his uppity Christmas ball that he also held on the same day as hers.
Over the years, her attendees had forgone her forever dwindling fare and entertainment to that of the viscount's abundant party. Those members of the village who had money in any case. People like her remained at the village hall, happy not to step into that glittering world of the nobility up on the hill.
Heidi returned to her cottage and, with heavy feet, made her way upstairs. She entered her room and slumped on her bed facedown, only then allowing the tears she had held so stoically to run free.
Her life played out before her through the blurred vision of her bedding. A life of toil, of becoming a maid or cook in a great house like where one of her long-lost friends lived. Of waking early morning and retiring late in the evening to make another's life easy.
How had she allowed her life to become so hard?
Heidi rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling where the paint had started to flake off. Well, she may not be able to change her fate, but she’d be damned before she would allow the uppity Lord Levinstone to get away with acting the selfish prig.
He would get a piece of her opinion on his dealings and his blatant thievery from his neighbors, and she would not sleep until she had her voice heard.
Jumping from her bed, she clasped her shawl and bonnet and, with determined steps, started downstairs and outside, slamming her gate shut before walking toward the great house.
It was time Lord Matthew Stanford, Viscount Levinstone, was brought down a peg or two, and she would relish being the one to do it.
Matthew slumped back into his leather wingback chair and threw the short missive from Mr. Jones onto his desk. He cringed and rubbed a hand over his brow, already feeling the telltale signs of an impending headache.
He sighed, having not known that Mr. Jones had bestowed on his house all the pigs for his ball tomorrow evening, leaving none for the locals.
Well, one local in particular. Miss Heidi Lewis, his once closest friend, now his adversary.
He could picture her now, blowing fire out of her pretty nose, her plump lips pulled into a displeased line.
Matthew ran a hand through his hair, glad at least that his sister was not here this year for his annual ball, having decided to remain in Scotland with her husband, the Earl of Grandison.
She would not have been pleased that his household had taken all the pigs and would have demanded he return some, but how could he? He already knew his cooks were preparing and baking them for tomorrow night's dinner and ball. He would have, of course, had he known the butcher had played such a hand, and would have stopped the order, but it was done now. He would merely have to ensure it did not happen next year.
The wind picked up, and one of the shutters on a front-facing window slammed against the glass. Matthew walked over to the window, opened it, and, grabbing the shutters, pulled and locked them closed. He then rang for a servant, and his butler entered with haste.
"You called, my lord?"
"Yes, there looks to be a storm rolling in from the sea. Please have all the shutters closed so no windows are damaged, and notify the stables to bring in all the horses for the night."
"Yes, my lord," Smithers said, leaving to do his bidding.
Matthew strode over to the fire and threw two more logs on the already-stoked blaze, a dropping chill in the air warning that a storm was brewing.
The sound of unrelenting knocks on his front door made the pit of his stomach drop before the windswept, high-of-color Miss Heidi Lewis stormed into his library with burning, angry eyes, and a finger jabbing dangerously in his direction.
"How dare you— You … you … intolerable, selfish man. How dare you take all the pigs for your gluttonous friends and family? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, and if you think I shall allow you to get away with this, you are mistaken. I'm going to let everyone in town know what a greedy little lord you are, and believe me, Levinstone, you will have zero friends when I'm finished with you."
A crack of thunder rumbled in the sky, making himself and Miss Lewis start. Footsteps sounded in the foyer, up and down the stairs, and Matthew did not have time to reply before the butler entered a second time. "My lord, this storm coming in from the ocean seems fierce and sudden indeed. I fear we're about to get a drenching, and it could make traveling to and from the village impossible."
Matthew looked to Heidi, understanding his butler's words exactly, and the last thing he needed was the termagant before him being caught here. "Excuse me, but what are you saying?" Miss Lewis asked, dabbing at her rain-covered face with a handkerchief. "I just walked through the causeway, and it wasn’t flooded," she said.
A servant ran into the library and passed the butler a note. "Not anymore, Miss Lewis. I just received word young Buckley barely made it through bringing your mare in from the top paddock, my lord. It's rushing through and rising quickly." His butler paused. "You are stuck here, Miss Lewis, for this evening."
"What?" Both he and Miss Lewis said in unison. "She has to leave. She's a maid, and I'm unmarried, and there is no one here to chaperone her," he argued.
Miss Lewis scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Do not think you'll tempt me, my lord. I would rather try my luck out in the storm than be seduced by the likes of you."
He stared at her, wondering if that were true, but then decided to ignore her jibe entirely. "Prepare Miss Lewis a room," he said, glaring at her. "It seems you're here for the duration of the evening and let us hope no longer."