Page 77 of Tangwystle
“Fine!” he barked, his neck red. “Under Clause 2.761 of Transaction Creeds I shall acquire your paid servant for damages.”
My stomach dipped, but I only really noticed Baz. I’d never seen him so angry.
The nameless man raised a hand as if to stop the onslaught of yelling. “Now, now. That’s an archaic rule, Rufus. And Coldwell is right. No proof has been submitted of. . .”
He lingered, half looking at Gretel as he realized he didn’t know her name or any particulars of her story. But he did look worried, and I think that had more to do with the way Rufus, the normally uptight, unresponsive man, had thrown her to the ground. This nameless man’s natural inclination wasn’t to the gentleman in that moment, like most would support. But rather, the poor, delicate creature stomped on.
For that, I can be thankful, and somewhat overlook the knowledge that if Rufus hadn’t acted like a fool, this man probably wouldn’t have been as sympathetic.
But the next bit did stun me.
“You refuse to let this whore go to jail where she belongs,” Rufus spewed. “How am I to know she won’t run off in the night as she is apt? Justice will be served. This one shall be brought back to my manor and we will reconvene this conversation before the Council tomorrow.”
Baz stepped forward, and the crowd stepped back. That’s how menacing he appeared.
I trembled. Gretel grabbed my hand, squeezing tight. She’d not uttered a word this whole time, but her green eyes filled with unshed tears.
My heart jumped into my throat. I’d done nothing wrong. At least not anything that I was truly ashamed of. Rufus’s reaction affirmed my decision to hide Gretel away from him.
Only it hadn’t worked.
For a split second, as the stars whirled above us, as the crowd pressed together and foamed at the mouth for scandalous information. As Gretel clung to me and as the nameless man tried to calm Rufus, I met Baz’s eyes.
Those dark blue eyes were void of their usual mischief. For a second, the ballroom faded. My insides scorched with dread and fury.
Because why did this have to happen? Why did we have to throw a ball? Why did Rufus have to come? Why did Baz and Gretel get caught?
Trying to keep Gretel was all for naught. And worse, in that moment, I was the collateral damage.
twenty-one
To this day,I don’t like to look at Clinemell Manor, even if I pass it on the way to the village.
The night was dark, and clouds had moved in to cover any winking stars.
The wide expanse of empty sky was stark compared to the bubble of surprised people clamoring for gossip in the ballroom at Blackwell Manor.
I recall my feet crunching against the dirt path I took to get to Clinemell Manor. I know I stayed as quiet as possible, shirking away from the angry Rufus. His valet with the mustache, who once knocked on the kitchen door, shot me a look of such disdain when I entered the Manor.
I wasn’t a guest and I wasn’t their servant, but rather a hostage. Part of me wondered if Rufus ever thought he’d overreacted by forcing me to his place. Surely, I was more of a nuisance than anything else.
His valet with the mustache certainly frowned in a way to indicate that I was.
I found myself in the kitchen, where Gretel had once worked, and couldn’t help but compare it to the one I’d left behind.
The Manor should have seemed similar to Blackwell’s, but I could only find the differences. And they weren’t small architectural details. The place was cold and still with a silence that made my ears ring.
How could Gretel have worked here for so long? I swore the whisper of her cries haunted me as the image of her whipped skin seared into my memory.
It felt like I’d been pushed underwater. The world tilted to a dangerous degree as I tried to get my bearings.
I still wore the ballgown I’d put on that evening. I suddenly wasn’t sure when I ate last, not that my knotted stomach would have accepted much food.
A large part of me wanted to curl up on the floor. What else could I do?
If Clinemell had tried to take Gretel to jail, I would have rallied. But never in my wildest dreams had I thought I’d be the one pulled from Blackwell Manor.
The male servant grimaced at me. I don’t think he spent much time in the kitchen himself, but I also sensed his disapproval at leaving me alone. He didn’t trust me with the finer things in Clinemell Manor.
