Afton made her way tentatively down the stairs of Holland House, which seemed to her as big, as cold and as empty as a castle. On her quest to find the dining room, she spotted just one other soul, and him only from behind—too small in stature to be the young Mr. Holland she met last night, she thought him to be nearer her own age, though it was hard to say, for she only glimpsed him for a moment before he disappeared into one of the house’s many unfamiliar rooms. 

Left so utterly to her own devices, Afton leaned on her intuition as she searched out the dining room, supposing it to be on the ground floor and somewhat near the kitchen. Fortunately, there was nothing wrong with her nose, which led her invariably to her destination within a short matter of time. 

The dining room was long and dark, with only a single occupant seated at the end of the grand table, an older man with a large dark frame which provided a silhouette for a small white Maltese who sat up suddenly in his lap, eating the food he offered her directly from his plate.

“Thomas Green’s child,” said the man as she entered the room. Afton stood very still as he looked her up and down. “I see the resemblance, yes. Come in, girl.”

“Mr. Holland,” she began very carefully in what she hoped was a strong voice, “I must be allowed to thank you, sir, for your kindness to my poor father and to me, by allowing me to come here and—”

“Oh, none of that,” he cut her off disinterestedly. “What did Thomas call you? After his wife, I suppose.”

“My given name is Afton, sir.”

Mr. Holland snorted. “He named you after the river, did he? The absurdity is very apt. And what would he have named his son? Thames?” He laughed, amused by his own joke, then sobered. “Oh, Thomas…” he sighed.

“If I may venture a question, sir,” Afton said, fairly burning with curiosity—so curious, in fact, that she forgot to be self-conscious of her lisp, and spoke all the more clearly for it. “You seem as though you knew my father quite well, but I am sorry to say he never spoke of you. How were the two of you acquainted?”

“Never spoke of me, eh?”

“Only at the end, sir. He scraped together the strength to write a letter to his ‘one time benefactor,’ then assured me my future was secure. Those were some of the last words he ever spoke to me.”

Mr. Holland listened somberly while the dog in his lap pawed his forearm, impatient to be fed.

“One time benefactor, is it? But the old fellow had it all wrong, for it was I who was indebted to him. Not that he’d ever let me repay him,” he mused thoughtfully. “Yes, I owe your father a great debt, my girl. In fact, one might say I owe him everything…”

Afton listened, spellbound, her imagination running wild. What did Mr. Holland mean by such a statement? Had her father saved his life in their youth? Stopped a runaway carriage perhaps, just before it ran down the young Mr. Holland, or fought off highwaymen who’d tried to kidnap him? Perhaps they’d been in a seaside port, and brigands had attacked, or—but no—these explanations did not fit with her late father’s character, whose idea of a rousing evening had been one spent by the fire with a new book on medieval courtly manners. Afton wanted very much to know the particulars of Mr. Holland’s debt to her father, but somehow it seemed inappropriate to pry, when no explanation had been volunteered. So, she resumed her speech of gratitude, which she had prepared in advance.

“Sir, you must allow me to properly express my thanks—”

“No, no,” he cut her off once again. “These demonstrations aren’t necessary—anyone can see at a glance you are a very ‘good’ sort of girl, for indeed, your father was a very plain and good sort of man, one would hardly have expected any differently of his daughter—but, no, you needn’t go through all the motions of gratitude when they are so very dull.”

“But, sir! I am most indebted—” 

“Oh, you are very grateful, I have no doubt. Where else would you have ended up without my generosity but in the poor house? And, since you are no doubt sensible of this, and given the excellent recommendation that comes naturally with having such a father as Thomas Green, I am confident I may be assured of your exemplary behavior in the future while you are under my roof,” he said, and he pinched a bit of mutton from his plate and fed it to his eagerly waiting pet.

“This is Stella, a most loyal and affectionate girl. She doesn’t argue with me and she doesn’t spend my money frivolously as though there were no end to it, so I am quite fond of her. In fact, I might go so far as to say she is my favorite child,” he added with a chuckle that, to Afton, seemed colored with a very self-satisfied emotion, which struck her somewhat strange, and also, perhaps, just a bit cruel. 

“Now, you must sit with me, Miss Green,” he ordered. “Eat.”

Afton obeyed, taking the chair he indicated where a clean setting lay before her, lovely silver and china patterned with blue. At Mr. Holland’s bidding, she served herself from the dishes of excellently prepared chops, eggs and potatoes and began to eat.

While she did this, she helped herself to little glances at her benefactor, a man of about sixty years with a high forehead and a large nose which pointed to the right. With a little imagination, Afton could picture how he slept on his stomach and pressed his face into the pillow, slowly shifting his nose to one side over the years. His hair, though tinged with silver, was still quite golden, and his eyes were cold and blue.

Besides feeding himself and Stella, Mr. Holland spent the breakfast hour quizzing her on various subjects, from history to French conversation, the former subject of which she was able to answer satisfactorily, while the latter demonstrated further education to be desired. Upon concluding these quizzes, Mr. Holland pronounced her to be a girl of moderate intelligence, whose slowness of speech was to be put down to her nervousness, which was more true than he realized, for he could not have known the mental distress she was under, now once more anxiously monitoring her every word lest her old habit resurface, and the dreaded lisp slip out. To her immense relief, it did not, and the interview concluded with her having left a good if not excellent impression on the older man. 

As for her own impressions, she found him to be forthright, open and unashamed in his prejudices as well as his sense of humor. Her account of her treatment the previous night, for instance, he seemed to find particularly amusing.

“You mean you actually fell asleep in the hall? In the dark all on your own?”

With her ears burning, Afton could only nod that this was true.

“Oh, that was abominable,” he declared, letting Stella onto the table to lick his plate as he chuckled to himself, then burst out laughing. “Abominable treatment of our guest, Ezra! Lord, I’ve seen puddles of tadpoles with more cumulative intelligence and civility than that boy!” His laughter echoed around the large room, and left Afton feeling very small and insignificant.

“And then you slept in the nursery? On Esther’s old bed with no blanket or anything? Abominable, I say!” he declared, still laughing heartily. “Yes, it’s true I had intended it to be your room, but not before sufficient preparation had been made. Until the servants return to make a proper room of it, you must sleep in one of the guest rooms. Aubrey will see to it, won’t you, Aubrey?”

“Yes, sir.”

Afton jumped in her seat, startled by an unexpected voice. She looked to find a young man standing just off to the side of Mr. Holland, so still and unassuming she had not observed him until this moment, and she was left to wonder when he had made his appearance, or if indeed, he had been present for the entire conversation.

“Miss Green, my secretary, Mr. Aubrey. Aubrey, you see my ward, Miss Green.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Green.”

“Likewise, sir.”

“And with that, I will leave you,” announced Mr. Holland, rising from his seat with Stella tucked securely under his arm. “My youngest is returning to school soon, and I shall be escorting him to London to conduct my business there. Aubrey will manage the estate in my absence, but do not trouble him with every trifle—Esther will see to your needs, she is a competent enough woman, I daresay, though given to extravagance. Aubrey, take care she does not spend through her inheritance in my absence.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, young lady,” he turned to Afton with an imperious look. “I leave you to your own devices. Get along as best as you can, and don’t expect anyone to look after you. You are my ward, not my child, and there must and will remain a sharp distinction between Thomas Green’s offspring and my own. Short of lending yourself out to menial domestic labor, you must make yourself useful wherever you can to earn your keep, and, on the whole, do your utmost to stay out of everyone’s way.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Afton murmured, never once having dreamed it would be otherwise.

“As to your education, when the governess returns from her holiday, you shall join Esther in her lessons. Though my own daughter will naturally have the first claim upon her time, where Miss Walling’s duties permit, Aubrey will inform her of the areas where you are deficient, that she may make what improvements she is capable of.”

“Thank you, sir. That is most generous.”

Mr. Holland snorted. “I have paid enough to engage the woman, I see no reason why that money shouldn’t be put to good use. Make the most of it, girl. Make something of yourself, if you can. I owe it to your father to give you that much of a start in life, at least.”

“Thank you, sir…”

Silently, Afton watched Mr. Holland’s back as he left the dining room, then she turned her face to Mr. Aubrey, who remained where he’d been standing before, looking so austere and put-together in his white high collar and crisp gray suit, he seemed more statue than man.

After several seconds of silence, it was Mr. Aubrey who spoke first.

“I think, perhaps, Miss Green, that you have finished your breakfast?”

“What? Oh, yes!” she cried, fairly throwing the napkin from her lap into her plate with the mutton bone.

“Then, you will allow me to escort you to your temporary living quarters?”

“Yes, of course!”

Afton followed Mr. Holland’s secretary from the dining room, thinking him a very stony, difficult sort of man to read. Mr. Aubrey led her up the stairs to ‘the lavender guest room’ at the corner of the house, one of several which were always prepared to receive Mr. Holland’s guests, she was made to understand. After being entrusted with the key to her room, Mr. Aubrey proceeded to lead her down the hall to a room opposite of the one she thought to be Mr. Ezra Holland’s from last night, and rapped sharply on the door. From within, a groan could faintly be heard.

“Miss Holland tends to be a late riser,” Mr. Aubrey informed her.

“You mustn’t trouble her on my account,” Afton protested. Just then, a young maid of perhaps nineteen came scurrying up the hall with a silver tray.

“Oh, Mr. Aubrey, you mustn’t disturb the young mistress! She hasn’t had her morning tea, yet.”

“Well, have her slip on a dressing gown and take tea with Miss Green.”

“Oh, no, sir! Miss Holland is very particular about her appearance, especially in the morning. I’m afraid she’ll be indisposed for two hours at least.”

Mr. Aubrey put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat with only the slightest alteration to his countenance, a faint twitching at the corner of his mouth, which Afton took to be an expression of disapproval. Still, he made no remark on the subject, and instead turned his attention to the maid.

“Kit, kindly inform your mistress that Miss Green has arrived and requires her assistance in settling in just as soon as she is able.”

“Yes, Mr. Aubrey.”

“In the meantime,” he turned stiffly to Afton, “I must leave you to get along on your own. I’m afraid I have several pressing matters I must attend to before noon, and I won’t be able to show you around.”

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Aubrey. I can manage.”

Mr. Holland’s secretary nodded without expression, his dark eyes flitting briefly around the hall before offering her a slight formal bow, and excusing himself without another word. Meanwhile, the maid Kit had disappeared inside Miss Holland’s room, leaving Afton once again quite alone in this big, empty house…