The Girl Underground

Chapter 20: A Home by Any Other Name

"Of course she is, foolish man, she witnessed the murder!"

"And was beaten ruthlessly for it."

"Brandon was there to help her!"

"There, that as well! What was he doing in the market at such hours?"

"He does fancy Malia, does he not? Perhaps he was following her, like he told us."

George wasn't too sure of that. Brandon and Malia were good friends from what he knew, but even with what little attention he paid; he could tell that Brandon held no such deep feelings for Malia. That he was following her that night was something he could entertain, though.

"He has said all that he wants on the subject," Mrs. Boatwright reminded him. "If we question him more, his answers won't change. Malia was being attacked and he saved her."

"But he said nothing about her witnessing the murder."

"Perhaps because he wasn't there himself," Mrs. Boatwright held up a hand. "We will wait for the Magistrate to bring more answers. I myself have more than a thousand questions for the man, but we will accomplish nothing trying to solve this mystery ourselves, George. It is like you said; she is protected now, even if I don't like that she is no longer here. But how she will fair under that roof with Abigail Quincy is another mystery..."

Now, Mrs. Boatwright could not stop pacing, wondering. She wanted answers as soon as she could get them. She did not care for what the community thought of this, most of them had nothing else to do but gossip, she only cared for what would happen to Malia, someone she considered as close as family. But life had to go on as normal and they could not be set back from this. After all, what did it matter so long as Malia came out of it safely?

But she still had so many questions! Would news ever come?

Mrs. Boatwright halted in her pacing and stared thoughtfully at the door. Perhaps the fault was on her for sending Malia to the Quincy home alone. Naturally, Malia would have wanted nothing more than to have the privilege of going outside more often after that. They were both at fault for keeping her so close at hand before, they had to expect that she would react in such a way when given those liberties.

Why had they done that, kept Malia inside for so long? Had they been ashamed of her, of having her in their home? Mrs. Boatwright liked to think that she wasn't. But had she been before?

Oh, what did it matter now? Malia was now under the same roof with a woman who was likely to tear her apart. Abigail Quincy would relish ordering Malia around, Mrs. Boatwright wished there was something she could do about it. But what? She couldn't threaten the woman!

If only there were something to use against her to keep her silent...

Mrs. Boatwright doubted there ever would be. Abigail was, after all, despite being a hellcat, a woman with a slate cleaner than most. There was no taking that from her.

But not for the first time, Mrs. Boatwright wished that Abigail's slate was as clean as her character. Then she would worry about Malia less.

XXX

Malia woke up in her brightly lit room and stared around for a moment, unsure of her surroundings. She knew where she was, but she felt almost immediately that she didn't belong. At Dawn-Bridge, she was at home. Here, she was among strangers. One young maid, Addison, was very kind to her, and came into her room almost every other hour to chat her up, but other than that, Malia felt incredibly lost an alone.

"I don't have a lot of friends here," Addison had said to her. "So I know you and I will get on just fine."

Malia sat up in her bed and placed a hand on her abdomen, waiting for the stinging pain to come. When it didn't, she sighed with relief. She tired of feeling weak and helpless. She wished there was something she could do, but she didn't even know what her duties were! Was she a housemaid like Addison? Was she merely the caretaker of John's daughters? What was she here?