The Butcher's Daughter

Chapter 16

It wasn't long before Annabelle noticed just how frequently William's moods shifted. He'd promised her safety and had successfully marketed and sold his ability to keep her comfortable and happy both during and after their ride against the bitter winter wind. But he was clearly frazzled, clearly uncertain of whether she would agree to the conditions that they were going to discuss once she was dry and warm.

Despite those indiscreet glances that she caught him taking at the riverbank, he now resigned to openly stating his respect for her modesty. If she hadn't dreamt of him so constantly and witnessed in full effect the gentleman that he was capable of being, she would have believed his cordiality to be merely for show. Especially after seeing the shelter that he'd decided on providing her at this ungodly hour.

"The room is for you," he told her as they crossed the taproom of a small, obviously British-owned inn, "I shall only stay long enough to discuss our agreement and will be by to collect you in the morning. Are you comfortable with this?"

Annabelle inhaled deeply. He was being terribly mysterious. Perhaps it would be wise to take his company in smaller does, after all. To make matters worse, there wasn't a rebel to be found within a ten-mile radius. She felt terribly out of place and the disapproving glances that each weary, seated redcoat extended to William as they passed the bar only added to her discomfort.

"Is something wrong, Annabelle? You seem rather on edge. I can order some tea to be sent up to your room, if you would like."

The faintest smile found its way to her childlike face. How terribly British to believe that tea was a solution to every ailment. Also, and perhaps most childishly of all, Annabelle thought that having a cup, thread and tag to fiddle with would allow her to fidget and escape any difficult subjects that may lie ahead. At least, that is how she had seen Marigold interact with her tea in modern Waterford. "That would be nice, William, thank you."

"What's your poison? Green or black?"

"Uhm... peppermint?" she grinned, shyly. Her only real encounter with tea was peppermint leaves from her father's garden steeped in boiling water, but she was much too embarrassed to say so.

William's smile widened more than it had all night. "Peppermint it is!"

The room was exactly as William had requested it, containing warm blankets and a hearth that he ordered the help to tend to right away. Once the autumnal shades of the fire were rolling and Annabelle was situated in a modest white night gown that William had also added to his tab, they took their tea by the fireplace.

"My plan is very straightforward, but that doesn't mean that it will be easy to set in motion. Voyages out of the colonies are expensive and in high demand at war time. Furthermore, to journey to the safety of one of His Majesty's ports and acquire livable conditions once you've landed will require paperwork. And a respectable name. I have the majority of the income from my commissions set aside and I would like my family to receive a fair portion of my salary as it is earned. And, of course, all of my accumulated wealth should I perish in this war."

"A respectable name?" Annabelle's eyes dropped to the cup in William's shaking hand. He was just as anxious as she and this fact didn't make her feel better in the slightest.

"That is not to say that 'Casey' is a poor name, Annabelle. But it simply isn't-"

"British."

"Well..." it turned out, he would be the one to fidget with his teacup, "yes. To be the wife of a colonel is not an easy life to be sure, but it will keep you safe. And Mabel, through your association-"

"-You ordered my family to be killed, William. And then to turn around and speak so ill of the Casey name-"

"-The hierarchy that you are suggesting is purely systemic. It is not of my own creation. Your safety is my highest priority. I am not seeking to belittle your family in any way."