"The arrangement, I believe, was that you would look after Jamie, and I would stay as payment." Nan barked, perplexed by Sir William's antics. "There are tailors in Ashfern that could fit me with a dress or two for nearly a third of the cost. There is no need to send to London for an overpriced seamstress." Nan rebuked, not noticing until she had finished speaking just how Sir William was regarding her.
Sitting behind his desk, his hands clasped across his stomach, he stared up at her, seemingly amused by her scolding. If the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth was any indication.
"I was unaware that your tiny hut contained an entire wardrobe of women's attire. Tell me, were they as grand as the frock I found you in? Did you have a gown for every occasion? Season? A dress for every day? What of your undergarments? Or were those, too, the rewards of Carrie's generosity? Second, third, mayhap in even forth hand petticoats, corsets, and bloomers. I would add stockings, but by the state of your feet when I brought you here, those had gone to rot quite some time ago. Not even your shoes were made for you." He replied with ease, though there was a fine edge to his words Nan could hardly miss. "And what of your boy?" he continued, his tone losing most of its previous amusement. "Did he, too, have a multitude of ensembles to choose from? Or merely the scraps of those multitude? Would you deny him—"
"I would deny him nothing!" Nan cut in, anger and panic rising up her spine as she glared at the man seated before her.
"Then, do not deny me!" he snapped, lunging up from his seat. "What I give to you, the brat receives only because he is yours. Deny me, and you deny him. Is that understood?"
"Yes." Nan answered, her ire restrained only because of Jaime, and what this man could and most likely would do to him if she lashed out. "Have you finished with your...terms?"
"I have nothing further to add on this matter." He shook his head, reclaiming his seat.
"Then I would take my leave."
"As you like." Sir William nodded, waving a dismissive hand towards the door as he picked up an idle paper from his desk. With a small curtsy, Nan bowed her head and turned for the door, stopping short as William's voice sounded once more. Turning to him as he addressed her, "I sup at seven o'clock. I would like very much for you to join me tonight."
"As you like," Nan replied with a short nod, then turned and left.
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Nan wandered the halls of Stonebrook with only half a mind to explore her new home. Or was it a prison? Her thoughts, normally an easy meandering path to follow, had converged into one central focus. Her host and his tactics to make her stay. She should not have been surprised that Sir William Horton, the Black Knight, would seek to use Jamie against her. He was her weakness, and well, Sir William knew it, not that anyone with half a mind wouldn't. For Jamie, Nan would do anything, suffer any fate, and even be the companion to the devil himself if she had to. Though, she was beginning to think that may be just what she had agreed to.
Nan had never spent much time worrying over men with quick tempers; they seldom had the presence of mind to know it was safer to think themselves out of a problem rather than fight. She'd seen the outcomes of such stupidity stumble, drag, or be tossed from Banger's Pub more times than she cared to recall. And she'd heard Sir William Horton was of that same lot. However, her experience with him thus far stated he was far from quick-tempered. Merely bored, and in many ways, a bored man was worse than a quick-tempered one. Bored men sought amusement from those around them, giving graciously until they were no longer entertained, and when that happened, their search for amusement could become twisted and dangerous. Nan had seen it many times with Carrie's girls. She did not fancy it happening to her.
She would have to be careful with Sir William, watch him, learn what he found so interesting about her, and milk it for all it was worth. She needed to make herself invaluable to him or, at the very least, irreplaceable because if he ever did feel the need to relieve himself of her, she did not think such would bode well for her or Jamie. And if she tried to escape him...she quickly dashed that thought to the rocks. With men like Sir William, escape was only afforded in death, either his or hers. She saw neither happening anytime soon.
Still, despite his strong-arming her into being his Mistress or rather companion as she preferred to look at it, the situation he had forced her into was far more agreeable than trying to spend another winter in her little house, with its drafty walls and fickle fire. Sir William had seemed sincere in his willingness to take care of her and, by extension, Jamie, but still, she could not shake the question of 'For how long?', women were often accused of being fickle, changeable creatures, yet men were often guilty of the same crime where their pleasures were concerned.
Nan did not know Sir William well enough to know his nature or the duration of time in which her company would please him. She had only heard rumors that were thus far quite contradictory to what she had seen of him. He was a calculating man with some degree of patience, though how far and who it was afforded to she was not certain. If his earlier comment had been true, then she was among those few. But why?
He had called her fearless, and she had told him she was not. He had remarked bitterly of his scars, and it vexed her when he did. He had continued with his life after receiving his burns; he'd not shriveled into some useless ball of self-pity and tears, which told Nan he had a strong fighting spirit. He had all of Ashfern in terror of him, which said he was powerful, but whether that power was benevolent or malevolent, she had yet to discover. She had heard he was not a good man, but she had known men thought to be good when, in actuality, they were anything but.
It was hard to place Sir William. All of Ashfern said he was a shadowy minion of the devil, yet he had not been unkind to her or Jamie. Somewhat underhanded, but if she recalled his questioning about his scars and what he had said about his friends, she saw that more as a desperate attempt for companionship. He was lonely. It was plain enough to see. She would not begrudge him for that; it was hard to be alone and to be alone when others were near even harder, though she still did not like his methods for keeping her.
Destroying her house, had that really been necessary? He could have simply offered to put her and Jamie up for the winter. He hadn't needed to go so far. She was prideful, not stupid. She would have seen the benefits of staying, if not for her, then for Jamie. To be sure, she would not have stayed for free as Sir William intended her to. However, she was beginning to wonder about her definition of free.
With a growl, Nan slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor. Cupping her face in her hands, her elbows pressed to the backs of her knees. It was not at all ladylike for her to be sitting in such a manner, but Nan was no lady and had long since stopped caring what others thought of her. It was the actions of others that had brought her to her beggar's life, and here, she could live as she wanted. No one bothered to look too closely at the propriety of a filthy homeless beggar.
Well, almost no one.
"Are you all right, Miss Harris?" a male voice sounded some feet away. Quickly, Nan pulled her head from her hands as she looked at the voice's owner, Sir William's Butler. The elder man stood only a foot away, staring down at her, concern shining in his aged eyes. It was rare Nan saw such a look aimed at her, and for it, a blossom of warmth filled her heart for the Butler.
"Yes, Mr. Baringer. I'm all right." Nan nodded with a smile. "I just needed a moment," she informed him as she got to her feet, brushing the sides of her dress, the look he gave declaring he didn't believe her.
"If you need to rest, Ma'am, I could take you to the parlor. I'm afraid my wife and daughter have not finished cleaning your new chambers." He replied tightly, pushing his worry to the side in favor of the cool nonchalance she had seen many men of his ilk dawn, like the armor of a knight placing his duty before all else.
"Wife and daughter?" Nan repeated, ignoring his coolness.
"Yes, Ma'am, my wife Mary is the Housekeeper here, and the maid who has been attending to you is my daughter, Ann." He answered stiffly.
"Oh, yes, she's very nice." Nan nodded, remembering the maid who had brought her meals, filled her bath, and changed her bedding on a daily basis. Nan supposed she was afraid of Nan leaving vermin on the sheets. "And what is your name, Mr. Baringer?" Nan asked with a warm smile that seemed to disarm him, if only a little.
"John, Ma'am, though I do not think addressing me by my first name would be proper." He added.
"Yes, you are right." Nan nodded, her smile dropping some and her eyes taking on a light sadness before they reconnected with Mr. Baringer's. "By chance, would you happen to know where Jamie is? The boy that was brought here shortly after I was. I find I require his company."
"Of course, Ma'am, if you'll follow me." Baringer nodded, turned.
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What Nan found upon entering the kitchen startled her more than the shouting she and Mr. Baringer had heard before they had even set foot inside it.
Somehow, her sweet little Jamie had made it on top of the old iron chandelier dangling from the center rafter of the ceiling and was terrorizing the cook and her assistant with fists full of flour from the sack he had managed to haul up with him. And the things he was snarling at the flustered women had Nan feeling like a piece of twine being pulled in two different directions. On one hand, she was thrilled to see him in such high spirits even if he was shouting profanities at Sir William's staff; on the other, she was terrified of what Sir William would do to him if he were to walk in and see the fuss Jamie was causing not to mention the flour he was wasting as he continued to fling fists full at the shrieking women.
"Jamie!" Nan shouted, glaring up at her boy when her sense returned enough for her to be outraged with him, though it had more to do with his carelessness than his assaulting the kitchen staff. Her hands fisted on her hips; Nan stood just in the kitchen doorway watching as Jamie hastily climbed off the chandelier, dropping onto the heavy wooden table below it. His now half-empty sack of flour set gently on the table as he sheepishly made his way to Nan.
"Sorry, Nan." He said softly, head tucked down close to his chest, shoulders raised, eyes glued to the floor, making him look like a terrified puppy afraid of being hit, though Nan had never laid a hand on Jamie and would not tolerate anyone who did.
"Now, what ye apologizing to me fer? I ain't the one ye been terrorizin' with fists full of flour." Nan bit, looking over to the two women standing by the oven, dashes of white powder staining their dark uniforms, wearing the same stunned expressions as they took in her now meek boy.
With a slight grimace, Jamie turned to face the women. "I'm sorry, I got ye nice kitchen all mussed up and dirtied ye dresses." Jamie said in the same sheepish voice he had apologized to Nan with.
"And?" Nan added, watching as Jamie's head tucked lower and his shoulders rose a bit more.
"And if ye tell me how. I'll clean up what I done." He added.
"And?" Nan prodded further.
"And I promise I won't do it again."
"Good," Nan said, then took his arm and turned him to face her, kneeling before him so she was eye level with him as she raised his chin from his chest with a gentle hand. "Now, tell me why ye did it in the first place."
"They said I was to get a bath." He grumbled, and Nan burst out laughing.
"Oh, love." She grinned at the child before her, cupping his face as she kissed his forehead. "I think for the time bein' yer safe. Now, do as the ladies say and clean up yer mess." Turning him back toward the two bewildered women. "And if he gives ye any more trouble, just come find me. I'll set him right." Nan informed the women with a smile, before casting a sideways glare at Jamie that made him wince.