Amelia slept late the next morning. She had been awake most of the night, thinking about what happened and drifting into exciting dreams. The warm sun had been shining on her bed for hours before she finally called for breakfast.
She sighed as she drank her chocolate and looked through the newspaper. Peters the footman, a big man with pale skin, brought in the small round breakfast table like he always did. And like always, Amelia picked up her breakfast and pulled it towards the bed. Mr. James, wearing a little linen gown, slept curled up on a soft pillow at the foot of the bed.
Amelia shivered a little as she thought about the night before. The bandit had come to see her. He had climbed up to her window.
She frowned. This was where her thoughts became more interesting. Maybe he would have said he was madly in love with her. Maybe he would have asked her to run away with him and live a dangerous life. Maybe he would have kissed her.
Her hand moved to her lips as she wondered what that would feel like. Something told her it would be very nice.
She wasn't sure if he was handsome under the mask, but in her mind, he looked like a prince from a storybook. His mouth had looked nice enough, and his eyes were intense. When he looked at her the night he robbed her, she felt like she might faint.
Sadly, Amelia never fainted. It actually sounded nice to faint, she thought, and be carried away by a bold bandit on horseback. Maybe he would take her to a small camp with a fire. Or even better, a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, with the wind blowing through it.
Would she have flowers in the windows? Yes, she decided. If she were a lady bandit, she would. She would grow flowers all around and maybe even keep a big beehive outside to scare people away.
Mr. James yawned, stretched, and walked over to her breakfast. Amelia broke off a piece of muffin for him, and he took it politely before walking away to eat.
It felt wrong to be unhappy. She had a beautiful home, she was comfortable, and she was loved. No matter how exciting the bandit was, she had a duty to her father. She would try to behave better. She would marry a rich man, maybe even someone with a title. That was what her father wanted for her, a proper future.
Mr. James finished his muffin and sat beside her, waiting for more.
"Do you want more, you little troublemaker?" she said, stroking his ears. "Let's call Rosé and get you an apple."
"Miss Amelia," Rosé said, appearing at the door before she even called.
"Oh, there you are," Amelia said. "Mr. James wants his breakfast, and please bring out my yellow dress. I want to go to the bookshop."
Rosé didn't look happy. "I think you should talk to your father first. He wants to see you in the library. Everyone will be there in fifteen minutes."
"What is it?" Amelia asked, worried. "You sound serious."
"You should hear it from him," Rosé said, avoiding her eyes.
"I'd rather hear it from you."
Rosé shook her head. "He's waiting."
Something was clearly wrong.
The walk down the stairs felt longer than usual. As Amelia passed the paintings and the flowers in the hallway, she had a strange feeling she would remember this moment.
When she entered the library, her father stood with his back to her. He looked thinner than usual, and she noticed his hair had gone more gray.
"Good morning, Amelia," he said, turning to her with a tight smile.
"What's going on?" she asked, hugging him. "Rosé looks scared."
His expression grew heavier. "This will be hard for her… and for all of us."
"What will?" Amelia asked, her calm starting to break.
"Sit down."
She sat and held her breath. "You can tell me. I'm strong."
He sat beside her and placed a hand on her arm. "It's all gone. Everything. We have to sell the house, the carriage… almost everything. You can keep your clothes, but I don't know if we can keep Queenie."
Queenie was Amelia's white horse.
Amelia blinked. "What do you mean? How will I ride? How will I travel?"
Her father sighed deeply. "I made bad investments. I trusted the wrong people. I even borrowed money to keep things going."
The words slowly made sense. They had no money left.
"It's been happening for months," he said. "I tried to fix it, but I couldn't."
"That's why you've been worried," Amelia said quietly.
He gave a tired smile. "You all thought I was just being stingy."
"I guess we did."
Everything was gone. They were poor.
"My pearl necklace could have helped, right? And my rings?" she said.
"What the bandit stole?" her father asked. "Yes, maybe. But it wouldn't have saved us."
"It would help," she said.
"A lot of things would help," he replied. "But I owe money I can't repay."
A cold feeling spread through her.
"You'll pay it back, right? If we sell everything?"
"I hope so," he said. "But I'm not sure."
"You could go to prison," she said softly.
"You don't need to worry," he said quickly. "You can go stay with your Aunt Edith. You'll be safe."
"But you could go to prison," she repeated.
"I might avoid it… if we get enough money," he said, though he didn't sound confident.
"We have to do something," she said, standing up. "I won't let them take you."
He hugged her gently. "Don't worry yourself. Let me handle it. Just smile for me."
Amelia smiled for him, but inside her mind was racing.
There had to be a way to fix this.
Losing the house and their things hurt but she could bear it. Losing Queenie hurt even more but she would bear that too.
But she would not let her father go to prison