Chapter 105
The morning sun hadn’t yet burned away the mist when Rachel arrived at Mr. Camden’s home. The air was cool and quiet, birds chirping faintly somewhere in the garden.
Chloe had dropped her off after they’d both dropped Timothy off at school.
Looking above the building, Rachel balanced a paper bag from the bakery she’d stopped by in one hand, her bag slung over her shoulder as she pushed the gate open.
Everything looked the same and yet, as she stepped inside, the house felt… a bit different. It wasn’t just different. It felt too quiet too.
Normally at this hour, she would hear the faint clatter of someone dusting the living room, or the low hum of one of the housemaids chatting in the kitchen. The Camden home might have been old and grand, but it was never this still.
Today, though, the silence stretched like a held breath.
Rachel frowned, setting the paper bag on the wine cellar counter before glancing around. The air smelled faintly of polish and lavender but no voices, no footsteps, no soft laughter from the younger housemaid, Millie, who always greeted her with a shy smile.
Even the usual background rhythm of life was missing.
Naturally, she wouldn’t have bothered with any of them and would’ve just gone straight to do her job but somehow, she didn’t like that no one was around.
“Hello?” she called softly, stepping into the hall. “Anyone around?” But the only answer was the grandfather clock ticking solemnly in the foyer.
That was strange.
She made her way toward the kitchen and found only one person there. Mr. Hanes, the butler, his back slightly stooped but posture still immaculate as he carefully wiped down a silver tray. The only other sound came from Mrs. Nair, the cook, humming faintly near the stove.
Rachel blinked. “Mr. Hanes? Good morning. Where’s everyone p>
The older man looked up, adjusting his glasses. “Ah, Miss Rachel. You’re in early p>
“I am,” she said with a small smile. “But she gestured vaguely around them “it’s awfully quiet today. Where’s Millie? Or Nora? And what about David — wasn’t he supposed to fix the garden fence p>
Mr. Hanes hesitated, the faintest sigh escaping him before he replied, “They’re… no longer here, Miss p>
Rachel’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean no longer here p>
“They’ve been let go,” he said simply, his voice low. “Yesterday evening after you’ve left, Miss Sandra came by p>
Rachel’s stomach tightened. Sandra, Henry’s granddaughter.
“Let go?” she repeated, stunned. “All of them p>
He nodded grimly. “Everyone except Mrs. Nair, myself and you. She said the house didn’t need so many hands anymore especially since they were not doing much p>
Rachel stared at him, trying to process it. “But that doesn’t make sense. Mr. Camden’s health needs people around. Especially since I don’t live here. What about his laundry and his other needs after I’m gone p>
He gave a faint shrug. “I don’t make sense of her decisions, Rachel. I simply follow what I’m told p>
Her mind spun. It wasn’t just unfair to those workers. It was cruel. How could she just fire them? Those workers weren’t just staff; they were people Henry depended on, people who kept the house running smoothly. And now… only the butler, the cook, and Rachel herself.
Why would Sandra do that when she knew she wouldn’t be here to look after her grandfather herself?
Why would Sandra do this? She frowned as a thought crossed through her mind. Could it be Sandra had done this to make her work harder for her? Was that what this was about?
Rachel forced a steady breath, pushing the thought down. “Did she say anything else p>
Mr. Hanes shook his head. “No. Just that she’d be reviewing the house expenses. She left in a hurry afterward p>
“Of course she did,” Rachel murmured, biting back frustration.
Mrs. Nair looked over from the stove, her round face drawn with worry though shinning with a ray of hope. “It would’ve been really bad for him if Mr Camden hadn’t secretly asked Mr Hanes to sort them out p>
“He did?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
“Yes, he did. He said he wouldn’t let them suffer that way after they’d worked for him,” Mr Hanes said with a fond smile. “He’s such a nice man. I just wish he wasn’t so sick p>
Rachel’s chest softened, her gaze lingering on Mr. Hanes and Mrs. Nair as they spoke with quiet fondness.
Rachel’s throat tightened. She’d come to know Henry Camden was kind but hearing this, realizing he’d gone behind his granddaughter’s back just to make sure the laid-off workers were cared for struck something deeper.
She’d seen people with money, and power and how they rarely thought of anyone beyond themselves. Yet this frail old man, who barely had the strength to walk unaided some days, had still found a way to protect those under his roof.
Her heart squeezed, and she realized her admiration for him just skipped to another level.
“Don’t worry about the work being overwhelming. Nair and I will help out where we can,” Mr Hanes said, pulling Rachel out of her pool of thoughts.
“Thank you, Mr. Hanes,” she said softly. “I’ll manage p>
The butler nodded, offering a faint smile. “If anyone can, it’s you, Miss Rachel. You’ve got the patience of a saint p>
She laughed weakly. “More like the exhaustion of one p>
Then Rachel squared her shoulders, and forced a smile. “Right. If Mr. Camden’s awake, I’ll take his breakfast p>
“He’s not yet, I believe,” Mr. Hanes said. “But I heard him moving earlier. Shouldn’t be long p>
“Good,” she said. “I’ll wait in the parlor then. Thanks again p>
And with that, she went to grab the paper bag and walked down the corridor her steps light just like her heart.
As she passed the portraits on the wall, she caught her reflection in the glass. Her tired eyes, hair slightly wind-blown, determination written in every line of her face.
Sandra might have wanted to make things harder for her by firing those workers.
But Rachel wasn’t going anywhere, neither would she let Sandra get to her.
She set the breakfast tray in the parlor, arranging it with unnecessary care; the croissants on the white porcelain plate, the tea steaming gently in fine china cups.
The house still felt hollow without the other voices. Empty halls echoed with every creak.
She glanced toward the long window where sunlight filtered through lace curtains. The garden outside shimmered with dew.
That was when she made up her mind.
She wouldn’t let the heaviness of the house or Sandra’s petty games win.
Yesterday, she’d seen something spark inside Henry Camden, something that had been asleep for years.
Today, she was going to make sure it didn’t fade.
And if she had to carry the weight of the house on her own shoulders, so be it.
Her gaze drifted to the hallway leading to his study.
“Let’s see if I can get you out of here today, Mr. Camden,” she murmured to herself.
Then she squared her shoulders, smoothed her skirt, and headed toward his room.
The sound of slow footsteps made her turn.
Henry Camden appeared at the end of the hall, his cane tapping rhythmically against the polished floor. He looked surprised to see her, his eyebrows were raised, hair slightly mussed, and he was still in his dressing gown.
“Miss Rachel?” he said, voice rough from sleep. “Good heavens, what time is it p>
“Eight forty-five,” she replied cheerfully. “Good morning.” ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ
“Eight?” He blinked, then frowned at the clock on the wall. “You do realize I said ten, don’t you? Ten, not dawn p>
Rachel grinned and held up the tray. “I brought breakfast. That makes up for it, doesn’t it p>
He gave a faint huff that could have been annoyance or amusement — she wasn’t sure which.
“Here, sit and eat. You can grumble at me after,” she said, just as he opened his mouth to argue.
He obeyed, muttering something under his breath as he lowered himself into the armchair. Rachel poured tea and unwrapped the warm croissants. The buttery scent filled the air, and even he couldn’t hide the faint gleam of pleasure in his eyes.
“Still bribing me with food, I see p>
“Always works,” she replied.
He took a sip of tea, studying her over the rim of the cup. “You seem… unusually energetic this morning. Should I be worried p>
“Not at all,” she said, her tone deliberately casual. “I was just thinking you’ve been cooped up here too long p>
“Oh, here we go,” he murmured.
“I’m serious,” she insisted. “It’s a beautiful day. You should get some fresh air p>
“Rachel p>
“No arguments. It’ll be good for you, I promise p>
He gave her a look, one of those patient, half-smiling stares that usually preceded a dry refusal. “And where exactly would I be getting this fresh air? My garden p>
“Not just your garden,” she said quickly. “Somewhere better p>
“Better?” he asked with raised brows.
“Mm-hmm.” She leaned forward, chin resting on her hand. “I was thinking… maybe a little drive p>