Chapter 7
seven
I went about my tasks, not wearing underwear beneath my dress and overly aware of my sticky thighs.
Lunch came, and Baz appeared in the kitchen, making my stomach squirm.
He, of course, showed no signs of discomfort.
His button-down shirt and trousers were perfectly pressed, his sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. His dark hair was somewhat tidier, but even his messy locks added to his appearance.
Along with the growing scruff on his sharp jawline.
“We should eat outside,” he said.
We might’ve just decided he’d give me certain orders, but there were some things I couldn’t abide.
“Outside?” I curled my nose. Yesterday, I'd torn my hands up fighting with weeds. I needed to water the garden, but that would only lead to mud. And really, who liked eating outside?
“The sun is shining for once, Tangwystle.” He lazily played with a lock of my hair, my stomach swooping. “It’ll be good for you to spread your wings, fairy.”
“I am not a fairy,” I grumbled.
He smiled, toying with the strand of hair before letting it drop. He backed away, and then the side door opened.
Part of me had been flattered when he pointed out that the Manor might like me. But now the two were colluding together.
“Come on, fairy,” he called over his shoulder.
“It’s very sunny,” I complained under my breath. I balanced a tray of cold cuts and bread, my boots crushing the grass as I hurried after him.
“Where should we go?” he asked.
There was a great tree in the garden which provided the most shade. But he’d already moved toward the gate, making to leave the property.
“You can’t really mean to—”
“To what, Tangwystle?” Baz interrupted, a glint in his eye. A test.
He really thought of going down to the riverbank to eat. It wasn’t a particularly busy area, but it wasn’t private. Gentlemen in the neighborhood would get word that Baz Coldwell ate lunch sitting on the grass next to his servant.
In some ways, it was so much worse than a gentleman fucking his maid. It implied a familiarity. At best, Baz would be taken as a fool. At worst, I’d be declared a temptress ruining Blackwell Manor and find myself stoned by the town mob.
“Come along, my fairy,” he purred, taking my hand and pulling me forward.
For two glorious seconds, my mind emptied. It was the blue sky, the green grass, my hand in Baz’s, and the beauty of the river.
But then I spotted the lump by said river, and I knew instinctively who it was. Because I had been here once before.
Crumpled on the grass, Gretel’s feet almost touched the river. For one horrible second, I wondered if she wanted the river to carry her away.
Baz’s hand slipped from mine, and the plate in my other hand clattered to the ground. I don’t know which of us ran first. He might not have understood it in the way I did, but he ran too, the moment he saw her on the ground.
“Gretel!” My knees landed with a thump. “Gretel!”
The blood was worse. Or maybe it was about the same as last time. All I knew for sure was the sun that day seemed brighter than normal, and I swear it made things look worse.
“Go, call the doctor,” Baz ordered, lifting Gretel, who moaned. Her golden curls were stained red.
“We can’t!” I ran ahead. I found the side door open and swept everything off the table.
Baz carried Gretel through, laying her as gently as he could.
“Supplies in the cupboard!” I shouted, filling a bucket with water.
“We must call the doctor.”
“And have Rufus Clinemell take the doctor’s fee from her wages,” I replied, grabbing a clean towel. “That’d be another six years of service from her. And that’ll be nothing compared to how he’ll handle the embarrassment.”
Baz blanched. I let him work through his naivety, not that I gave him long.
“Alcohol, Baz,” I snapped at him. His head jerked at the order. But I knew by the way Gretel’s head rolled around and her cries that she needed something to take the pain away.
Baz went for the good stuff, running to his office, and I was glad. I could’ve used the obnoxious tasting sherry I kept in the kitchen, but I wanted the strongest that we had.
We poured it down her throat, and Baz stroked her hair back while I did my best to clean the wounds. Eventually, she passed out; the kitchen suddenly too quiet.
I used the last of the magical balm Master Blackwell had kept and tried to send Baz off to fetch more. By then, the wounds were clean and Gretel slept. But Baz continued to pace, only stopping occasionally to brush strands of Gretel’s curls back.
He needed to move. To get out. And I needed him out of my hair.
“Let me fetch a doctor,” he said.
He’d already said this to me six times, and I was afraid he’d ask me six more. But it turns out Gretel wasn’t in as deep a slumber as we thought.
“No.” The words came so mumbled for a second that I didn’t think it was coherent. But she tossed her head, her face spasming at the movement. She slept on the hard table because she’d cried out the last time we’d tried to move her.
Baz inhaled a breath when he realized what she said.
“You can’t be surprised to find that not all men are as kind as you,” I told him.
He gave me a look, like he wasn’t sure if I was teasing or not. But I smoothed Gretel’s hair, wiping sweat off her forehead.
“You are remarkably calm,” he said. When I didn’t reply, he asked, “This has happened before?”
My hand ran over her hair again. We took turns trying to comfort her, placing a cool towel on her brow and combing her hair. “I do not know the specifics,” I said quietly.
“It is not right for a gentleman to treat his—” He stopped speaking at whatever dry look I shot him. He went back to pacing. “She can’t go back to him.”
I agreed, but, “She signed a contract with him. Clinemell will go to the Council.”
“If he finds her.”
I paused my ministrations. “You risk your own reputation?”
He frowned. “The plan is no one risks anything. No one knows the wiser if she is here.”
“You know she could wake up and decide to go back on her own?” I knew this for a fact because it was exactly what had happened last time.
“I beg to differ.” His strides grew quicker, shorter as he thought. “At the very least she stays right here until she is strong enough to move.”
“On that we agree.” I ran my hands through her hair again. A tiny whimper came from her.
“I can’t possibly let Clinemell get away with it.”
I played devil’s advocate, urging caution, but the truth is that I wanted nothing more than Rufus Clinemell to get his comeuppance.
I think Baz knew that, so he pressed me, hoping I would tip him over a dangerous edge. But one of us had to be realistic.
“It is well known, Clinemell and Gretel. . .” She made a noise, and I broke off. After a moment, I said, “You think if she goes to the Council, they’ll believe that she didn’t ask for it?”
“Who could ask for this!”
I motioned for him to quiet down. “Clinemell is recently married. He won’t put up with what he’ll perceive as you, so lately to town, embarrassing him in front of his new wife.”
Who I guessed didn’t enjoy finding someone as beautiful as Gretel in her husband’s home.
I’d heard whispers the past few weeks, during my trips to the market. I’d blatantly walked away, putting myself out of hearing distance. I didn’t want to listen to anything regarding Gretel. Now I wish I’d paid more attention. It had been weeks since I’d seen her pop in, asking for sugar.
Until Gretel woke up, we couldn’t be sure of the exact details. But I had an inkling that he’d taken things too far. Or maybe his wife had requested he discipline Gretel. For now, we just needed to focus on ensuring she healed.
“Will you go and get her some actual sleep tonic?” I didn’t like how she kept twitching, her muscles jerking at the slightest change in the air.
Baz closed his eyes, steeling himself up. He nodded and came so close to me that I finally remembered that just that morning his hands had touched my bare ass. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and touched his finger and thumb to my chin, holding my gaze.
“Keep her safe for us, fairy,” he requested.
I sat in that kitchen, my fingers running through Gretel's hair for a long time after Baz left us. Things needed doing, but there I sat, combing Gretel’s hair.
She moaned in her sleep, her neck moving slightly, eyes fluttering open.
“Tangwystle.” The name came softly, almost unsure, like this could all be a dream.
I brushed her hair back.
One single tear dripped over the bridge of her nose and splattered on the table.
If Baz had still been there, he could have soothed her. Told her comforting words like ‘It’s okay.’ Or, ‘You’re safe now.’
But we didn’t know if that was completely true yet. I couldn’t even hum under my breath in a pretty way, so I remained silent.
“I knew. . .” Gretel’s thought mixed with a sigh, ripping from her chest. “I knew it’d be you. . .”
Had she known I’d be the one to help because of last time? Or because she knew I always helped anytime she came nagging about ingredients she needed.
Baz came back, a little less than an hour later. We moved her to a bed. I told him to get some sleep, but he wouldn’t leave. Neither would I.
Oddly reminiscent of our nights in the library, we sat in a pair of chairs, watching over a sleeping Gretel.