Misleading The Marquis

6 - Bane

"I'll show you to a room immediately," the innkeeper nodded emphatically, his double chins wagging in his urgency. "Boy!" he called to what could only be his son who stood just behind him, eyes wide as everyone else's at the sight of Bane and George.

Bane glanced around the room that acted as the common area for guests and realized it was a bit shadier than he might've chosen for... a wedding night.

There was a group in one corner playing cards, a fog of pipe smoke haloing them and a pile of money between them.

Another table played host to two characters who had barely looked up from their conversation since Bane and George had burst through the door, hooded, they bent close to one another, a Board of Runes between them.

And still yet, there sat perched at every other bar stool working women who could be bought for the night's company - all eyeing George in horror. Bane looked at her too, for the first time since they'd come inside.

She was covered in small cuts across her face, there were pieces of glass in her hair, the growing promise of a bruise blossomed on her right cheek bone.

There was all manner of dirt, grass and leaves stuck at odd angles through her hair and clothes, dirt smudged her face where there was not blood or bruising, and a sleeve of her blouse had torn somewhere along the way so that it hung down pitifully, nothing like the respectable linen thing it had begun the day as.

And besides all this, he knew she was in pain, limping as She'd the whole way there, it had taken them three times as long than if he'd walked alone.

Bloody lovely job he was doing as a husband so far, he chastised himself as the innkeeper led the way to a set of stairs, his son following them from behind.

Anger surged through him towards George in that moment... would any of this have been a problem had she not turned out to be a liar?

He would not even have the burden of a wife with him now if She'dn't cast such a pitiful character being beaten by her male relatives.

Gruffly, Bane released his hold on her and followed the innkeeper up the narrow staircase ahead of her, leaving George to hobble up on her own.

"I will send someone for the magistrate directly," the innkeeper was saying, his oil lamp held aloft to light their way. The place was small, run down... Bane felt deeper regret still. What would George think of him? Bringing her to a place like this?

"We don't have a doctor for a few towns over, but the missus will do her best by your lady -" and then there was a sound behind them that had both men turning to look over their shoulder.

George was falling backwards, down the stairs.

The image of her body, limp, limbs at odd angles, falling down the darkened stairs... it was so much like that horrible moment when Cora...

"No!" Bane roared, lunging for her, but missing as she tumbled backwards still. The innkeeper's son dropped the linens he was carrying and held out both arms to catch her.

George landed awkwardly against him, her fingers clutching wildly for something to hold onto, eyes wide in panic and surprise. Bane felt his chest constrict against his will.

This sudden memory of Cora's death and an unbidden fear over losing George in the same way all of the sudden made him uncomfortable, and he instantaneously pushed it away, replacing any emotions that might've been trying to break through with anger alone.

"Get your hands off of my wife!" he bellowed to the boy below them on the stairs, who was holding onto George much more tightly than was strictly necessary.