LITMIR.BIZ

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looked to Martha and Martha hurriedly said, “Long enough to know she’s one of the best maids we’ve ever had.”

      So far, Elizabeth had counted three employees at the hotel—four, including Mr. Allen. Were there more?

      The door swung open and Mr. Allen appeared with a freshly shaved face, the pleasant scent of cologne preceding him into the room.

      He scanned the kitchen and his handsome gaze stopped on Elizabeth. “Pascal told me he met you and that you came in this direction.” He let the door close behind him. “I see you’ve also met Violet.”

      “I have.” She took a step closer to him and said quietly. “Are there any more employees I need to know about?”

      “Not that I’m aware of.”

      Martha placed a flapjack on a plate. “Will you have some breakfast before you go see Mr. Hall?”

      “Mr. Hall?” Elizabeth asked.

      “Roald Hall,” Jude supplied as he took the plate from Martha. “My attorney.”

      Elizabeth touched the letter in her pocket, hoping the law would be on her side.

      They ate in the kitchen, and when they were finished, she followed Jude out of the hotel and into the bright sunshine. The morning was cool, though humidity hung in the air and promised to bring more warmth later.

      The Northern stood on the northwest corner of what appeared to be a main intersection. Wide streets fanned out in all four directions, the hard-packed dirt filled with deep wagon ruts crisscrossing from one side to the other. Dozens of clapboard buildings, some complete with false fronts and others fashioned in the same Greek Revival style as the Northern, lined every street, with wooden boardwalks connecting them together. It looked like many of the frontier towns they had passed on their way from Illinois to Minnesota—but it boasted something most others lacked: the rushing waters of the Upper Mississippi River.

      “Mr. Hall’s office is near the ravine.” Mr. Allen motioned for her to cross the road.

      “Ravine?”

      “It’s an old river bed running through the eastern edge of town.”

      They crossed the street, and as soon as they rounded a building on the corner, she was able to glimpse the landmark he’d referenced.

      A bridge crossed the ravine, with wooden walkways on stilts extending out from either side to four different stores.

      Elizabeth tried to keep up with Jude’s long strides, her boot heels clicking on the boardwalk. He was much taller than she and appeared to be just as eager to speak to the attorney.

      Before long, Jude stopped in front of an unremarkable building and pushed open the door. He held it for her to enter and she passed by with nary a glance in his direction.

      The law office of Roald Hall was not much to speak of. A wide desk, two bookshelves and a few wooden chairs were the only items in the room.

      But the man behind the desk lit up the space with a gregarious smile. “Welcome! Come on in.” He stood and waved them inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He looked at Elizabeth, his grin growing wider.

      “Roald, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bell.” Jude nodded at Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, this is Mr. Hall—my attorney.”

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Elizabeth offered her hand.

      “Bell?” Mr. Hall shook her hand and looked from Jude to Elizabeth. “As in Clarence Bell?”

      “Clarence was my father,” Elizabeth said.

      Jude planted his feet and crossed his arms. “I wasn’t aware of it, but apparently Clarence had three daughters, and according to Miss Elizabeth he sent a letter from his deathbed bequeathing his share of the hotel to them.”

      Mr. Hall rubbed his square jaw, his gaze assessing Elizabeth. “Do you have the letter?”

      She dug it out of her pocket and handed it to the attorney, her hands shaking as she clasped them together. Her future depended on that letter. It was the most precious and valuable thing she owned at the moment—yet, was it enough?

      Mr. Hall read the letter, nodding now and again as he perused its contents. Finally, he lowered the paper and looked at Elizabeth. “I don’t see why this letter wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.”

      She wanted to collapse in relief.

      “However, you’ll have to gather several other documents to prove you are Clarence’s heir. You’ll need your birth certificate and his death certificate for starters. You’ll also need to find documents with his handwriting to prove he wrote this letter.” He handed it back to Elizabeth, his face grim. “It could take months, or even up to a year to gather everything you need and present it to a judge.”

      “A—a year?”

      “Not to mention a great deal of money for legal fees.”

      She didn’t have a penny to her name. How would she pay for legal fees?

      “And,” Mr. Hall continued, “until then, Mr. Allen isn’t required to house you and your sisters. You’ll need to find somewhere to live.”

      Elizabeth sank into a chair nearby and tried not to let panic overwhelm her. She’d been in a similar situation right after her father had left, before she found work with Mr. Brown. She had been so desperate to keep her sisters alive and there hadn’t been any work to speak of, she’d almost sacrificed her virtue. Would she be required to make that choice again?

      * * *

      Jude watched Elizabeth collapse into the chair, her shoulders rolling forward in defeat. She hadn’t received the news she’d hoped for—yet neither had he. It was clear these were Clarence’s daughters and they had nowhere else to go. He wouldn’t sit back and let the worst happen to them, no matter what it might cost his business. What kind of a man would he be? Especially when he spent his life protecting defenseless women just like her.

      The Bell sisters weren’t all that different from the others, after all. They were victims of their circumstances and forced to make the best of their lives. Some women went into prostitution to provide for themselves and their families—but Elizabeth had been able to avoid that trap. She was clutching her father’s letter as if it was a lifeline, and in many ways, it was.

      “I have a proposition, Elizabeth.”

      She glanced up, yet didn’t really look at him.

      “I have no doubt Clarence wrote that letter,” Jude said, “and regardless if it’s binding or not, I’d like to propose a solution.”

      “What?” Her gaze finally focused on his face, though mistrust lay deep in her eyes.

      Roald also looked at Jude, though with more calculation than Elizabeth.

      “Shall we take a walk and discuss the terms of the agreement?” Jude asked her.

      “W-What kind of an agreement?” She stood slowly and looked at him like he was about to propose a tryst.

      “It’s a proper agreement,” he said quickly. “I’ll not ask anything immoral of you.”

      Her cheeks filled with color and he looked away from her. If only she knew who she was talking to.

      Elizabeth offered her hand to Roald. “It was nice to meet you.”

      Roald bent over her hand in a great show of aplomb. “The pleasure was all mine. I do hope we meet again soon.”

      Could Roald be the one who would capture Elizabeth’s attention? It wouldn’t be a bad match. Roald was loud and boisterous, but he made a decent living and was a good man. Yet he didn’t seem right for Elizabeth. She was almost regal in her bearing and she deserved someone who would complement her graciousness and

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