Chapter 452: The Woman of the Wandering Hart

Chapter 451: The Woman of the Wandering Hart

Lyria’s POV

Obadiah rolled his eyes.

Then he stomped up the stairs with considerably more force than the task required, each step creaking beneath his weight.

The door to the establishment opened at that very moment, and the guards walked in. They moved quietly, as was their custom, their eyes sweeping the room with practised vigilance, marking every corner and shadow as though danger might lurk in even so humble a place as this.

From upstairs came a crash.

Then Obadiah’s voice, loud and indignant.

"’Ere now! Are ye tryin’ ter kill me, woman? I ain’t done nothin’ ter deserve that!"

"Don’t care if ye’re me own grandson! I don’t care what that good-fer-nothin’ official said! Them nobles ain’t stayin’ ’ere, an’ that’s final!" the woman replied sharply.

"Then take it up with the Crown!" Obadiah shot back. "Don’t take it out on me! If ye’re so angry, go an’ meet the official yerself!"

Another crash.

Then a yelp from Obadiah, followed at once by a stream of apologies.

"I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll not speak out o’ turn again, I swear it! Ye’ve every right ter be angry at me, every right indeed!"

I turned towards the others, perhaps to observe their reactions, when of a sudden Tommy shivered visibly, his arms wrapping tightly about himself.

"I am getting a dreadful sense of déjà vu," he said.

Dorian laughed softly.

Robin shivered likewise, and Duke Valenridge’s lips tilted upward into a smile.

I wondered whether they were perhaps acquainted with some one of similar temperament to the woman upstairs, but I had no opportunity to enquire further before Ellis spoke.

"Why, precisely, should you be suffering déjà vu?" Ellis asked Tommy.

Tommy’s eyes widened, and he clutched his own arms more tightly still, as though the very memory itself caused him pain.

"I am acquainted with a lady who prefers to communicate with her fist," he said, his voice pitched low with something akin to horror. "She has struck me upon numerous occasions, and were it not for my own capacity for healing, I should by now be entirely without limbs."

"I daresay it is only that you are excessively stubborn, and so deserved the beatings," Bridget said. "And who is to say you should not be the better for having fewer limbs?"

"I am not nearly so stubborn as you," Tommy replied. "If any one here is to lose a limb upon the strength of stubbornness, it ought rightly to be you, and not myself."

"Now, Tommy," she said, "do you truly wish that déjà vu of yours to become reality this very moment?"

Tommy shifted at once, moving to stand directly behind Dorian, peering out from around him with caution.

"I am not in the least afraid of you," he announced, though he clutched Dorian all the tighter as he said it.

Dorian, it seemed, was to serve as his shield in this matter, whether he willed it or no.

Just then, a door closed upstairs, and footsteps descended the staircase, whereupon a woman appeared.

Obadiah followed close behind her, rubbing his backside with an expression of considerable discomfort, wincing as he took each step.

The woman stopped at the final tread of the staircase.

Her skin was the same shade of caramel as Obadiah’s own, and I felt quite certain I had heard her call him her grandson, though she appeared remarkably young — perhaps only a few years my senior. Her hair was braided as his was, dark and intricately woven about her head. She was plump of figure, with wide, expressive brown eyes, and very handsome besides. Three beaded earrings lined one ear, and two adorned the other.

She folded her arms and regarded the whole of our company with an unflinching stare.

"The only reason I’m lettin’ ye stay," she said, "is on account of me grandson’s insistin’ upon it. An’ just so we’re clear on the matter — I care not a whit whether ye’re nobles or whatnot. Ye’re in my establishment now, an’ ye’ll abide by my rules, same as anybody else what crosses this threshold."

Marquess Silverwyn spoke up at this.

"I understand your position well enough," he said, "but surely you are acquainted with common courtesy. Surely you know to offer your own name, by way of introduction?"

The woman fixed him with a long stare.

"If ye don’t care fer the way I conduct meself," she said, "ye’re welcome ter take yer leave. I know no courtesy whatsoever. I’m but a commoner, after all, an’ such fine manners ain’t been taught ter the likes of me."

I knew well enough this to be a falsehood, for every one understood common courtesy, whatever their station.

"We a-are grateful, that you h-have given us r-room," I said to her.

The woman turned her gaze upon me.

"There’s no cause ter thank me," she said. "I ain’t doin’ it out of the goodness o’ me own heart, I assure ye."

She paused, then continued.

"Me first rule, should ye break anythin’ within these walls, ye shall pay fer it, in full. Me second, I own this establishment entire, an’ before ye do a single thing within it, ye’ll seek me leave first."

"Does that extend to sleeping?" Duke Thorncrest asked her, a smile threatening to break free despite his evident efforts to restrain it.

"Ye only so much as set foot within this place at all because I gave me approval fer it. What more d’ye suppose sleepin’ requires? If I don’t grant ye leave, ye’ll not be sleepin’ beneath my roof, that much I promise ye."

"I understand perfectly," Duke Thorncrest said.

"Should I recall any further rules, I’ll be sure ter inform ye," she continued, and I found myself wondering whether she had invented these rules upon the very spot, for the sport of it. "For now, I must take ye upstairs, that ye might earn me permission even ter sleep beneath this roof."

She turned and began once more to ascend the stairs, her braids swaying with each step she took, and we, having little choice in the matter, fell in behind her to follow.