The Ruby in the Storm

Chapter 30: The Provincial Rose

Chapter 30: The Provincial Rose

***TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter makes mention of drug addiction and suicide. If these subjects are sensitive to you, discretion is strongly advised!***

Mary Boatwright sent all the women off to bed for the night. She stated in quite clear terms that she didn't wish to speak of the past or anything at all for the night, and that the women must have been tired from their journey anyways. Lucy accepted it, but she knew a conversation was coming, or perhaps even an argument. Either way, it was clear that the mother of James Boatwright would not take kindly to the woman accused of killing him.

And, just as she had suspected, a conversation came. Lucy had woken earlier than Charlotte and her mother, and had decided to wander about the house alone. She tried to imagine her life of innocence within these now cold and empty halls. She had played her so many times, both her and James. Had she ever been so young? She couldn't imagine. But those memories were quite vivid. Young, portly James, Lydia with her bright golden locks, and Lucy... God, how naïve she had been.

Lucy ran her hands over the bannister and paused right in front of the spot where James had confronted her at the ball last year. It felt like a millennia ago, but only a year had passed since that fateful confrontation. Lucy stood there and watched the scene unfold again before her eyes. It was the day she had lost a friend; the day James's innocence had really died. He had not expected a rejection that day. To be frank, he had not expected a rejection the day he died either. James's downfall was that he always expected he would get everything he wanted and, sadly, he often did. So when something did not come to him easy, he would rage, as all men of his status did. He would rage and moan and fly into a fury at the expense of everyone else.

In Lucy's eyes, James was less of a man for it. And now he was a dead man.

"Lucy?"

Lucy stiffened and turned to see Mary Boatwright standing there, watching her with a blank expression. "Apologies, Mrs. Boatwright, I was just... I couldn't sleep."

"I can see. It is quite early. As it is, I do not sleep much these nights either, what with a dead husband and a murdered son."

Lucy held her breath. So she did believe the Magistrate's ludicrous accusations. Of course, why wouldn't she? Lucy had been the last person to see her son alive. It was hard to miss him from her position when he was trying to rape her.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Mrs. Boatwright asked. An odd question to ask, of course, seeing as she had just mentioned her dead son.

Lucy nodded, still dazed. "O-of course. I will join you."

She really wasn't hungry. Being back in this house and remembering that night had rid her of any sort of appetite. But she had to make nice with Mrs. Boatwright, at least for the time being. She knew why her mother brought them here—no one would think that Lucy would stay in the house of the mother of the man she was accused of having killed—but that didn't mean she liked it. She felt uncomfortable here, and she was clearly unwanted.

Mrs. Boatwright's sister, Cecily Harrington, was still abed, which Lucy appreciated. She had run into her the night of their arrival, and she was perhaps the most cold and severe woman Lucy had ever met. If Mrs. Boatwright wasn't openly displaying her hatred for Lucy, Mrs. Harrington had no problems doing just that. It was obvious she judged Lucy greatly, and would have relished in her leaving forever. Lucy hoped to give her that soon; she had no intentions of overstaying her welcome.

"Who is the woman that came with you and your mother?" Mrs. Boatwright asked Lucy when they were both seated over bowls of porridge. "Charlotte, right?"