It was four days before Nan's ten-year-old physician deemed her well enough to leave William's chamber, much less his bed, and during that time, the child had completely ignored Nan's declarations that she was well enough to do both. And in all that time, despite her being bedridden, Nan had somehow managed to avoid answering William's question of payment. In part, because of the diligence with which his staff seemed to wait on the girl, bringing her food, hot water, fresh linens, whatever she needed whether she asked for it or not, but mostly due to the constant interruptions of her ill-mannered brat.
Never in all his life, had William disliked a child as much as he disliked hers. He was beginning to think the boy had not been sleeping as soundly as he seemed when William had questioned Nan upon her waking. His timing was always too spot on, bursting into the room only moments after William had entered. Monopolizing her attention, while William wanted nothing more than to toss the brat out on his ear and lock the door behind him. It was only when the boy was around that Nan smiled. That she laughed. It was only with him she softened.
Even in the small moments when William was alone with her, her guard was up, her face placid and unreadable. Just as it was now as she stood in his study, wearing a dull green dress. The rags she'd been wearing when he had brought her here he'd had burned days ago. The dress, while an improvement over her former attire, did not suit her at all. The sleeves were too long, the bust too big, bagging horribly about her chest, and the color was not at all flattering against her dark hair and pale skin, William noted as he entered his study, watching as she gazed about the room.
Oddly enough, despite her position, she did not seem out of place there. Her eyes were not wide in wonder or fear; her movements were not stiff or clumsy. Her whole being was easy and relaxed, as though she had been in his study a hundred times before. Absently, she glanced about, looking at the paintings, the books, the furniture.
William had told Baringer to have her brought to his study before noon, hoping to cease this wretched waiting and have his answer without interruption from her brat. Who should have been in the kitchen receiving his lunch from Cook at that moment, keeping the child busy and well away from his adoptive Mother.
"I see my staff found you something to wear," William spoke, announcing himself as he entered. Startled, Nan turned to face him. "It doesn't suit you." He remarked as he sat in the dark, plush leather chair behind his desk.
"There's a reason people say beggars can't be choosers, Sir," Nan replied.
"Anything of interest?" William asked, glancing at the far wall of his study, where Nan had been looking when he'd come in. A great deal of the wall space in William's study was made up of bookshelves filled to the brim with their intended items.
"I've not had much call for readin'. So can't say that I do." She gave a light shrug. "Mr. Baringer said ye wanted to see me?"
"Indeed. I want your answer." He stated, not bothering to elaborate on what he wanted the answer to, just so he could gauge her reaction to his words. Idly, he wondered if she'd forgotten their discussion or if she would try to pass it off as though she had. She'd not brought the topic up since he'd made mention of it, telling him she was not comfortable with the idea of paying him. Though, she'd seemed content enough with owing him the two times she had made mention of it.
"Aye, I thought as much." She nodded, looking to the floor, a resigned sigh escaping her lips. "I've not much to offer ye, Sir. Certainly, no money to pay ye. But I can work as hard as any if you'll have me on."
"I have no need for another servant Nan, even one that would work for free. My staff is well in hand." William waved away her offer.
"Then, I doubt you'll be wantin' me skills for healin'," she replied, rolling her eyes with a sigh at his single slow nod. "Then, why don't ye tell me what it is ye'd accept as payment? I'm done guessin'."
"I want you to be my Mistress," William replied, the words slipping from his lips as easily as if he were talking about the weather. He had thought to try and woo her into accepting the position of his mistress, and were he still in possession of his looks, he would have. But her responses had proved startling more than once. It was far simpler to just say what he wanted and gauge how to proceed with her from there. And if he were to be completely honest with himself, he wanted to see how she would react. Outrage, shock, fear. So he watched and waited. Gaining only a slight rise of her brow before she spoke.
"Beggin' ye pardon sir, but don't ye have Carrie for that?" she asked, staring at him baffled by his statement. A small smile tugged the corner of William's mouth as he rested his head in his hand to hide the expression from her view. Indeed, her reaction had not been what he had expected. She didn't seem the slightest bit ruffled by his words, a little surprised, but no more than she had been when he'd entered the room.
"Carrie is a woman whose bed I share when I feel the need to do so. Apart from that, my coin does not pay for her conversation or company, and I'd be a fool to let it." He admitted, dropping his hand from his face.
"So, ye'll pay for mine?" She questioned, her expression caught between amusement and disbelief as she raised a hand to her chest, indicating herself. "Isn't keepin' me as yer Mistress a bit more expensive than keepin' Carrie? I come with a child and not a penny to me name." She declared. "And I told ye once already, I'm no man's whore. I'll work for ye, and pay ye back as best I can—"
"Nan, I'm not asking you to share my bed, though I'd not be averse to the idea. Cleaned up and in something other than rags, you're not at all unpleasant to look at. What I'm telling you," He clarified. "Is there are few whose company I care to keep. And lesser still, who I can hold a conversation with. You, it would seem, are among those few. And if caring for you and that Brat you call a child is what it takes to keep you here. I shall."
"That's a lot to offer a woman I've only spoken to a handful of times. Surely, ye got friends somewhere, someplace that wouldn't mind staying with ye?"
"What friends I had are dead, or vanished when I received these." He gestured to the scarred portion of his face. "Much the same as my wife." He added his tone solemn and bitter as he stared at his desk. "Your answer, Nan. I would have it now." He said, looking back at her.
"Is there even an option to refuse?"
With a deep sigh, William leaned back into his chair, rubbing his jaw lazily.
"Of course. Though I don't recommend it." He remarked. "Life tends to go much harder for those who go against me. Such as your current living arrangements. Your little...house. My man tells me the storm did quite a bit of damage to it. Apparently, one would find it unlivable now. Such a pity." He tsked, though his tone held not the slightest shred of it. If anything his whole demeanor took on a dark malevolence that gave justification to his title as the Black Knight. And for an instant, Nan seemed to hesitate before him.
The idea of leaving her homeless, that she and her brat would have to hide away in alleys and barns for the winter, bothered him more than he liked, though he'd not show her the slightest inkling of it. He was keen on letting her, like most everyone else, believe he was capable of such cruelty, and letting that stir her fearful imaginings to his favor.
He watched with wonder as Nan's blue eyes flashed with stormy defiance, her jaw clenched, as her hands fisted at her sides.
"I don't take kindly to bein' threatened, Sir." She declared, her eyes burning into his. Looking as though she wanted to throttle him, though her voice remained level.
"Few do." He nodded.
"And I don't see how me livin' me own life, would be goin' against ye." She continued.
"It wouldn't. So long as you do it here."
"And Jamie? How will ye be carin' for him?"
"However, you ask me to." He replied easily.
"You're bein' very obligin' for a man threatin' to ruin me life if I don't become your Mistress."
"I can be." He nodded once more, then rose from his desk, placing himself in front of it, leaning back against the edge, arms folded across his stomach as he took her in. "You're a proud woman Nan, strong, and smart. And you don't hide it. I would do better in your company. I would be better for your company."
"Are ye lookin' for a redeemer, Sir? Or a friend? It's hard to tell from the way yer speakin'." She questioned the hardness of her gaze lessening, but only by a little.
For that, she received a small laugh and an equally small smile. "Perhaps a bit of both."
"Well, I'm neither Saint nor Savior. And I don't much like friends who threaten me. Course, I don't much like the title of Mistress either." She remarked, practically sneering the word and, for the first time, breaking eye contact with him as she did.
"Brand our relationship whoever you like. But being my Mistress makes it clear to everyone that you are mine. And here, that is the safest thing you can be." He reached out to touch her.
"Until you've had enough of me," she replied, looking back to him, causing his arm to pause halfway. "And then I may as well be right back on the street with Jamie." She shook her head. "Though as it is, I've not got much choice in the matter," she added bitterly, dropping her eyes once more. "My conversation and company, that's all?"
"And a few other things." He ceded, with a shrug.
"Such as?" She glared at him.
"While you were ill, it was quite remarkable how impeccable your speech was. So, as of this moment, you'll cease speaking like some tavern girl from the docks." He ordered, pushing himself off his desk and moving to her side as he began to circle her. "You'll dress properly, in clothing appropriate to your new station as my mistress." He tugged at her sleeve and then took her chin sharply in his grasp, forcing her to gaze up at him. "And when I call for you, no matter when, no matter where, you will come to me." he released her chin, lightly tracing his fingertips down her neck, his thumb idly brushing against her jaw.
"Is that all, Sir?" she asked, her accent gone through, the defiance remained, her eyes never once wavering from him.
"William. You call me William."
"Is it too much to add a few conditions of my own?" she asked, taking his hand from her neck, bringing his eyes to hers in doing so.
"I'll hear them." He nodded, "Whether or not I heed them," he trailed off.
"You said that caring for Jamie will be however I ask you to. If I stay, and at some point, you do rid yourself of me. I want you to continue caring for him until he is able to do so for himself." She said, watching him as he walked over to a chair by the fireplace, seating himself on the arm in the same position he had set himself on his desk. For a moment, he stared at the floor, before giving a slow nod of agreement. "I want it written down. " This brought his eyes back to her.
"You want a contract." She gave a sharp nod. "I'll write up the details tonight. Once you've agreed to the specifics concerning your boy. I'll have it made legally binding. Your next condition," He waved for her to continue. Though the ease with which he ceded to her first stipulation seemed to catch her up. It was clear she had not expected him to be so...accepting of her terms.
"When you call for me, I will come. But only so long as you ask for me."
"I am not a man to make requests for what is mine." He stated with a glare.
"I've noticed. But I'm not yours, yet. And if you want me, you will ask. So far, you've made it sound as though I am to be more a companion, than a Mistress to you. I have no issue with that. But any friend worth having is one that comes willingly."
It was another few seconds of quiet deliberation before he nodded once more and rose from his seat.
"Fair enough." He nods, heading for the door. Pulling it open to yell for his Butler. Within a few moments, the thin, balding man in his black jacket and breeches came to the door.
"You called, Sir," Baringer said stiffly.
"Have the Master suite made ready for Miss Harris. And call Hoss to me." He instructed.
"As you wish, Sir," Baringer replied, bowing to William before leaving.
"I thought you said I would not be sharing your bed," Nan commented once William's Butler had left, shutting the door behind him.
"And indeed, you will not." he nodded, going back to his desk, pulling out a sheet of paper from a drawer and the quill from his inkpot.
"Then, why, may ask, am I being moved to the Master suite?" Nan asked, watching curiously as he scribbled across the page.
"Because the bed you currently sleep in is mine." He replied as he continued to write.
"You don't sleep in the Master suit?"
"I'm a Sailor, Miss Harris. I prefer smaller quarters." He remarked, finishing his note with a quick signature as a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," William shouted, blowing at the ink as the door opened and Hoss walked in, his dark eyes taking in Nan a moment before turning to William and making his way toward him. His attire was dull and slightly faded, but still in good condition.
"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Hoss asked, placing himself the same distance away from William's desk as Nan stood.
"Deliver this," he folded the paper he'd been writing on before sealing and stamping it closed, then handing it to Hoss. "To Mrs. Borde."
"Will that be all?" Hoss asked.
"Yes. Thank you, Hoss." He said, dismissing the man.
"Who is Mrs. Borde?" Nan asked, looking to William when Hoss had left.
"My wife's seamstress." He replied.
"She lives in Ashfern?"
"No. London."
"London?"
"I'll not have you walking about my house in my maid's dresses. I have means enough to keep you and your boy, so I shall. Was that not also part of our arrangement?"