The storm had grown progressively worse as the night wore on and Danneel could no longer maintain the pretence of sleep. Though one look at the dark bags under her eyes showed that she needed it.
She had been unsettled by the incident in the library; her imagination had gone wild with scenes of kidnapping or being taken hostage by the handsome brute. Her face blushed hotly as she remembered some of the more risqué encounters she had imagined. But any of those would have been preferable to the aftermath and Horth’s reaction.
The man had been acting a bit off for a few months now, but normality had never been his strong suit. After the attempted theft, though, he had become completely unhinged. Sheriff Eelroy had been sent for immediately and after a long and loud conversation in Horth’s office the large man had left pale with his tail between his legs.
Yelling at the sheriff had done nothing to subdue Horth’s anger. Next he sent for the two gardeners who doubled as security for the entire property; an arrangement Danneel had not been pleased with. On a number of occasions she had brought up the need for a dedicated security force— but had been ignored. When Horth was done with the gardeners, the elder of the two looked like he was going to be sick, while the younger one grit his teeth in an attempt to keep a surge of anger from boiling up. She had made a mental note to keep an eye on his behaviour.
Lastly Horth had called, or more accurately bellowed, for her to come to his office. His face was splotchy and red and a small patch of spittle frothed at the corner of his mouth.
He rambled and cursed, giving orders to keep pressure on Sheriff Eelroy and make sure he didn’t stuff up the investigation, which she had already planned to do and hadn’t needed to waste fifteen minutes listening to Horth’s attempt to tell her how to do her job. But then at the end of that drivel he had the nerve to bring up the security procedures, and blame her.
She wasn’t the one who hired two gardeners that had never held anything more dangerous that a shovel, nor did she refuse to hire any sort of professional, solider, or even some intimidating thugs. This situation was not her fault and she told him just that, not by screaming or cursing but in a calm, cold voice.
He did not take it well.
He screamed and cursed as she walked out of his office, though she couldn’t be sure what he said as his voice stuttered and slurred in his rage. It had been over twenty-four hours now and she hadn’t seen him since.
Another roar of thunder crashed, it seemed closer than the last and Danneel gave up any hope of sleep.
“If I can’t sleep I may as well be productive, and that will require coffee,” she decided as she took a moment to straighten her hair. She had hoped the morning’s execution would have brought this incident to a close, but now things were even more strained. Danneel hadn’t really believed the apothecary boy had been responsible for the attempted robbery, despite his upbringing. Nothing in her file indicated that he had the daring or audacity to plan or commit a robbery, but he was simple enough to be duped into helping.
Though if he was just a patsy why would they bother to rescue him. It didn’t make any sense, and that’s what annoyed her the most.
- - -
The fire in the hearth still burned brightly but she added a few more logs anyway. She could be out of a job any day now so she wasn’t about to bother with rationing now. For all the money the old man had, he was a serious miser. She replaced the half burned candles with fresh ones before slipping out into the hall. She could make out the raging storm through the windows at the end of the hall and she flinched ever so slightly as a crash of lightning ripped through the sky. Then another light at the end of the hall caught her attention. Only very dim, it shone from under Horth’s office door.
He’s still up? she though with surprise as she padded down the hallway in her slippered feet. Perhaps a midnight offer of coffee would help mend the tension.
She lifted her hand to knock when she heard a pained grunt from inside. Her hand flew to the handle in a moment of panic then paused. Disturbing whatever work had him up so late into the night would probably be better received if she had the coffee in hand. Spinning on her heel she turned and headed back down the hall to the service stairs.
- - -
The kitchen was even colder and it seeped straight through the fleece of her slippers. The fires had been doused so not even a single ember still glowed. It would take a while for the ovens to even warm up, let alone get hot enough to make the coffee.
“Bloody stingy bastard,” she cursed with an angry huff while stacking new kindling over the coals and set it alight.
People had often been surprised by her ability to start a fire, though most of those people would barely know how to dress themselves; the well born type. But despite her appearance and demeanour Danneel had much humbler beginnings. Her mother had been a lowly kitchen maid and it had been there that Danneel had learnt the value of gossip and knowledge, and how best to exploit it.
She quickly bustled around the empty kitchen collecting cups, milk and sugar and setting them on a tray. She had just turned to the pantry to choose some biscuits when her foot landed on something cold and wet.
“Eek,” she squealed before she could compose herself. A pile of wet towels had been discarded on the floor and were now soaking into the fabric of her slippers. “Ugh, what the hell,” her foot squelched as he pulled it away. “Who on earth left them here?” She wondered aloud and glared at the wet footprints by the door. “Those gardeners,” she hissed with venom. She should reprimand them both but with all that’s happening and the tension over Horth’s behaviour, it probably wasn’t worth hassling them; but she would still make a note of it in case it became useful in the future.
She discarded her wet slippers then set the coffee pot on the lukewarm stovetop. Almost at once her feet started to ache on the cold stone floor and the coffee would take while, so she made her way back up stairs to find another pair of slippers. She set the candelabra outside her door and was grateful for the extra log she had put on the fire when the warmth of the room greeted her.
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