The Beastkeeper's Bride

28: True Ravensfield Allies

28: True Ravensfield Allies

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ten Years Prior

"Cease your crying, Mildred."

Her father's voice was stern and succinct, compelling Millie to hold back the insurgent sob that was attempting to hiccough past her trembling lips.

Standing behind his stately desk in his study next to Lillian, she knew this was yet another lesson her father was instilling in his daughters. A line of serving staff stood before them, including the house steward and Mrs Dowling.

Unlike Millie, Lillian was cold and assessing, her visage a blank, emotionless canvas. The only indication that revealed Lillian was indeed moved by the proceedings before them was through the subtle squeeze of her fingers as she held Millie's hand.

"Daughters," Derrick began implacably, folding his arms behind his back and regarding both Millie and Lillian with a hard, indeterminate expression. "You have been provided with the details of the incident- now you are required to act upon a decision. What will you choose, Mildred?"

Her lips trembled uncontrollably and tears threatened to fall from the corners of her eyes. Derrick noticed her lack of composure, his eyes narrowing sharply with disapproval or warning- she couldn't be sure. Millie was sure though that she did not want to make the decision her father was referring to.

A pair of scullery maids and a footman had been pillaging small items of preserves and food items from the larder until finally Mrs Dowling noticed the discrepancies in the kitchen stock. The matronly housekeeper had reported her suspicions to Lord Ravensfield and he had utilized the opportunity- as he was wont to do of late, considering Lillian was coming of age to enter society as the Ravensfield heir. The matter, however, was what punishment ought to be meted out to the contrite, weeping women before them.

"I... I-"

"Mildred." His voice was cold and Millie flinched, her throat burning as she staved off another sob. Derrick sighed then and bent low, bringing his vivid gaze directly in line with his distraught youngest's. "Do not faulter, my girl. Merely tell me what you think is best. What is your gut telling you to do?"

At the softening of his tone, his face, Millie began to relax. She inhaled deeply and sensing that she was more composed, Derrick straightened and turned to face his staff once more. "Well?" he urged, gesturing briefly towards them.

"P-perhaps a dock in pay?" Millie hedged. Her hands were wringing ceaselessly within her skirts, especially when she witnessed one of the scullery maids' wince and weep even more prolifically at her suggestion. Her gut certainly clenched at that and her heart felt as if it were about to convulse and rip from her chest entirely. She did not like her role that was encroached upon her small shoulders like the heaviest of burdens. Even in her tender years, she was aware that what she said and what she did would impact the livelihood of the people before her. "And they may resume duties within a sennight?"

Although she couldn't be certain, Millie thought she saw a flash of disappointment cross her father's austere countenance. But he muted it immediately, if it was even there at all. He nodded once before turning to her sister, whose proud jaw clenched under his direct scrutiny. "Lillian?"

And her sister uttered the word with such unhesitating, cold conviction that Millie felt her entire body stiffen with the impact of hearing it.

"Termination."

Later, while she stewed inconsolably in her chambers, Derrick had sought her out. She had sprawled on her bed, her face crammed against a pillow, when her father joined her. His large hand spanned her back, a gesture meant to comfort and console, but Millie could only envision the tormented looks on the faces of the servants that now faced an uncertain future. "Millie," Derrick said quietly, his voice devoid of all stern authority now. "Do you know the meaning of your name?"