Inconveniences

Chapter 27

"You could just live here, you know," Mr Lancaster commented thoughtfully as I ate some fruit. "That is, after all, what I do."
"Yes, but Celine and John can get in trouble. So can I," I pointed out to him.
"How?"
"I'm 19, so I am still in their care for another two years. Law enforcement could arrest me or anyone in my family if I just left without a husband."
"Ah yes, the husband clause."
I rolled my eyes.
"Don't remind me," I replied with a small laugh.
"So... How do you feel about marriage?" He asked hesitantly.
I was taken aback at the question, but I tried hiding my surprise.
"I suppose I'll have to get married sooner or later," was the answer I finally decided on.
"I take it marriage does not appeal to you." Mr Lancaster looked visibly relaxed- he leaned back in his chair, his hands were folded over his stomach, and his long legs were stretched out, crossed at the ankles.
"I would prefer the 'later' option, yes."
"How do you think marriage will affect your business?"
"Depends on the man I marry. I would prefer to keep doing it myself, but once I'm married, my husband can do whatever he wants. It will more than likely turn out negatively, unfortunately."
"I have a hard time picturing you giving your business up to your husband."
"I do too, and even if I resisted, remember that he can legally do whatever he wants with me to change my mind."
"Such as?"
"The first thing that comes to mind is beating me, sir. If I refuse him, he can legally hit me until I do change my mind." I said it like a statement of fact- uncaring, unemotional, and business like.
"That does not sound like a fantastic option," he mused aloud.
"You seem rather observant, sir," I joked.
Mr Lancaster's eyes flashed angrily. Honestly, it still made me nervous. I didn't want to be the reason Mr Lancaster gets angry.
"Is this really something you want to joke about?"
"Joke about it or cry about it? I have always been funny."
"I am having a difficult time seeing what is so funny."
"You're always like that, sir. You can never see what's so funny."
Mr Lancaster's hands tensed up slightly.
"I suppose I am rather curious why you find domestic abuse something to joke about, especially since it would be towards you," he said after a span of silence.
"You get used to it after a while," I said with a wry smile. I traced the obvious hand print bruise on my face.
Mr Lancaster just glared at me.
"Oh, lighten up, sir. I think I can marry a man who might like me a little bit. Or, at least, learn to like me. Who knows? Maybe I could run my business too."
He shook his head and pulled out his watch.
"It is past 11, should you return home?"
"I'll stay here for the night. I believe I have bad luck when it comes to walking around London by myself late at night."
"I could escort you. Or have someone else escort you?"
"No, I'll be fine here. It will only be one night."
"Alright," said Mr Lancaster, standing up. "I trust that you know your way around now. I am retiring for the night."
"Yes, I know my way around, I'll be fine," I reassured him.
"Fine." He was almost out the door when he turned around a quarter of the way.
"Miss Hemmings?"
"Yes sir?"
"I suppose that I just do not like the idea of someone hurting you."
"That's... Considerate."
"Good night," he said rather abruptly. Without waiting for my response he left.
"Good night, sir," I called after him. Mr Lancaster gave me a dismissive hand wave, indicating that he heard me.
"Considerate indeed," I repeated softly to myself.
In the distance, I heard Mr Lancaster's heavy steps go up the stairs. Then I heard the sound of a door closing.
I didn't know why, but I felt strange. I was alone in this massive, barren building. The owner of it has fallen asleep, and I was left completely alone.
This loneliness wasn't saddening like the time I started crying in Venezuela, with only the trees and the massive, dark sky, with stars surrounding us and sprinkled on all sides, but only a little bit of it peaked through the tree tops... With Mr Lancaster gently telling me about the Coma Bernice constellation.
It was a peaceful loneliness, one that I could appreciate, one that I could happily bask in.
I finally decided to sleep about an hour after Mr Lancaster left. After I left the kitchen, I heard a soft tapping on the main door.

It's midnight. What could anyone possibly want?

Apparently, I didn't need to answer the door, because an envelope was already on the floor by the door, like it was slipped under. It was plain white, no address, no "to: you, from: me." It didn't even have a seal on the back.
Curiously, I opened it. The handwriting was narrow, and the tops and bottoms of every single letter were pointed. It had the same handwriting as Mr Lancaster's letter- from what I could tell. Even though Mr Lancaster read me the letter, I only got a brief glimpse of it.