The Earl's Keeper

Thirty-Two: Hounds of Bischester

"This way." William beckoned.

They had been back on the estate for a few weeks now. The journey home had been a far cry from the one they had initially took to London. George had almost upturned his stomach several time at the canoodling lovebirds. They just couldn't keep their hands off each other. Then there was the younger two. Bethany and Charles were like two frosty flakes, drifting past each other on a cold, silent breeze. Their mother had joined then and taken up residence in the late Earl's rooms. It was surprising the amount of travel luggage this particular noblewoman could need.

A precarious and strange evolution had begun in her attitude towards her children. The haughtiness was still present, of course. Her pride was too great to drop it altogether. Many years of habit could not be rid of in a singular night. Her words were not quite so sharp nor her intolerance of Mia or George as great. The disapproval posed from her pores, of course. But she was trying though, and that was something in and of itself. Plus George didn't give a shite what she thought of him.

Most surprising of all, Mia realised she was glad to be back. Of course it was the same area she had grown up, her father's land was barely a few good minutes of galloping away - but the manor itself...had begun to feel like home. Or the person who occupied it had begun to make her feel like he was part of her home. It was a tender feeling that they both nursed with each look and gentle touch. So much had changed since they had first left. It was incredibly scary and amazing.

"Will!" Mia huffed a little. She was far too nosey to be left in the dark for more than a minute. "Tell me!" She whined like a child.

"Hush, love, look we are here!"

"Wow." She deadpanned. They had not travelled more than a couple hundred meters to the back of the estate. "What a whole new world."

He pinched her cheek. "Tongue as sharp as thistle and yet such a valued tool ." He looked at her with all the crassness of a horny teen.

"Pervert!" She grinned, swatting him away in jest and looking towards where they were going. Adjacent to the stables and barns, there was a smaller one with a large fenced area housing the kennels. She was very familliar with it all, having toured endlessly around the estate since her arrival. She could more often than not hear the creatures barking away and the clamouring excitement when the beasts were released for a hunt. Oh the din they made then!

She felt a sliver of nerves. Horses, yes, cats, yes, fowl, sure. Chicken tastes great. But dogs? They made her nervous.

"The hunting hounds?" She couldn't hide the dissapointment from her voice.

"Not a fan of dogs?" Will was not deterred, his mood bright and contagious.

She shrugged. "It's a religious thing," she studied the kennels. "Mum...wasn't very fond of having dogs in the farm, especially in our home. Outside was fine, but not so big on touching either. Old habits die hard i suppose?"

"Well, wait till you see this."

He waved cheerfully at the kennelman hunstman, the kennelman and just about glimpsed the two whippers-in that assisted the day-to-day care of the hounds. "Andrew, Leo, hello!"

The older gentleman, and kennelman huntsman Andrew, stroked his moustache. "Came at the right time, just about to feed the bitch."

Mia had to hold in her immature burst of laughter at his use of the word. While techincally correct, her mind associated it as an insult these days. They nattered on like old friends, Mia asking particular questions about the hunt, how the pack was kept together with which commands or calls. She was eager to see the hunting horn too.