Rule of The Monarch

Seven: Severed Feet and English Tea

@ eccentric_evelynn as well

9 September

The two were standing at the doorstep of a dull-looking flat, identical to the other ten doors on either side.

'You bought a flat for our case Heather?' Astor set down the trunk he carried for a moment, craning his neck at their loud surroundings. They were in Ealdor, Keydon's busiest city and the most productive.

'For our case?' She shook her head, smiling to herself. 'This is where I live Mr. Hemingway. But yes, the centerpoint for our discussions,' she unlocked the door and trudged up the stairs.

'I don't usually go to a woman's house unless we've had a few drinks,' he shrugged his coat off, discarding it by the door.

'You're twenty two and you've lived with your parents your whole life. That was a lie.'

'How would you know? I could own a manor of my own in Aurelius.'

'You can't afford it. The houses there triple in price compared to this flat.' Heather went to pick up his coat. 'And the maids still clean up after you.'

'So where did the prince run off to?' he settled in a chair across from the fireplace.

'Not him, someone else.'

'What do you mean?'

'Read the paper,' she tossed it at him. 'Cup of tea?'

'That would be lovely.'

'I think so too. I'll have mine black. Kettle's in the first cupboard from the stove,' she walked past him, smiling as she opened the front door. 'I'll be back in ten minutes. I'm off to meet a friend.'

'Meet a friend,' Astor scoffed. 'Obnoxious madman. Can't just walk out and leave me in her flat,' he muttered and put the kettle on. 'What if I robbed her? She isn't worried about that.' He opened the fridge for milk but quickly braced himself against the table. The kettle whistled and the door clicked open all at once, sending warning bells off in his head.

'Mr. Hemingway?'

'Bloody hell,' he turned in surprise. 'Don't sneak up on me.'

'I didn't,' her face was clearly amused. 'I know you heard the door open.'

'Well, I— what, it's— there's a severed foot in your kitchen!'

'Oh that!' Heather laughed a bit, scaring Astor even more. 'I forgot about that,' she went to the fridge and handed him the milk. 'I believe you were looking for this. Coldest thing in the room but the milk goes sour by the end of the week,' she muttered aloud.

'Why is there a bloody foot in your fridge?'

'It's a cake,' she said simply. 'Go on, the tea isn't going to make itself. It's not as if you've never seen it before,' she smirked, placing the realistic foot in a paper bag. 'A gift from a friend.'

'Well I've never seen it unattached,' he stated, passing her a mug. 'You said ten minutes. Not five.'

'And you said you worked with the dead. I never thought Astor Hemingway would be such a princess.'

'You say it like it's an insult,' he grinned at her.

'I can see why Amelia likes you.'

'Who?'

'Amelia Prescott. Your old schoolmate,' she sipped her tea, leaning against the wall. 'Just met her in the street. Lovely woman. A bit odd that you have her address.'

'How did you—?'

'Contacts list,' she held up a black book . 'don't know why you'd need one. It's useless if you're going to leave it around.'

'I don't leave it around. It was in my coat.'

'You'd be surprised at how many things you keep in your coat telling your darkest secrets. It's how most well bred ladies have their affairs out in the open,' she returned the book to him. 'Never leave it around. Never let anyone else near it, not unless it's empty,' Heather warned. 'Lesson one, don't trust anyone.'

'Not even the magnificent Heather Carlton?'

'Especially not me,' she pressed on. 'Like you said, I'm mental,' she shrugged and held up his signet. 'And I'm a skilled pickpocket.'

'Why were you speaking with Miss Prescott?' he snatched his family heirloom from her.

'I asked you to read the paper didn't I?' she tsked. 'Men.'

'I heard that,' he called out from the sitting room.

'Good. then you can listen to this,' she set down her mug and took the paper from him. 'Amelia Prescott was reported missing from her family estate at five thirty this morning. The police are still investigating this disappearance. If you happen to come across her, please report to the nearest station. There's a picture attached,' she showed him.

'That is her.'

'Yes, I think we've established that. What we havent is why.'

'Didn't you ask her?'

'Of course I asked her!' she cupped her face in her hands for a moment before regaining her composure. 'She lives here. No kidnapping or disappearance. And her parents were informed when she came here last week.'

'She could be lying,' he said bluntly.

'She isn't lying,' Heather snapped, and glared at him , quite clearly fed up with his clueless mind. 'You don't think I would have checked her pulse while we were talking?'

'How did you— No, nevermind. Where are we going now?'

'Why would we be going anywhere?'

'Your coat—'

'My coat? Really?' Heather groaned. 'Lesson one' Mr. Hemingway,'

'Don't trust anyone,' They said in unison.

'Your room is down the hall,' she pointed in its direction. 'Don't intrude in my privacy and I won't go through yours. Unless its relevant of course,'

'Hold on, what—'

'Whether you earn or not, I expect you to pitch in with the rent like a gentleman,' she ignored his interruptions and headed to the sitting room. 'It's quite early in the evening but I suggest we both turn in. Today was productive, to say the most. I'll need some time to sort out the details and an early start in the morning,' she turned to him. 'How do you feel about pastry for dinner?'

'Depends if there's coffee.'

'There's a cafe down the street that's open until midnight. They have the best apple pies,' Heather rambled on, turning again and headed for her room.

'Is this because I'm slow?'

'Slow?' Heather froze in place, a hand on the doorknob. 'No, no, no. You are not slow,' she stood without facing him. 'Tortoises are slow. Toddlers are slow. Primary school teachers can be slow. You are not slow, Mr. hemingway. I've simply had enough idiocy to deal with for a lifetime.'

'Now you're calling me an idiot.'

'Not an idiot Mr. Hemingway. You simply excel at being a nuisance. You distract me.'

'With my rugged looks?' he said in spite of himself and cringed.

'With your utter unobservant nature,' she sighed. 'I'm tired, Mr. Hemingway. I'll see you at ten for dinner.'

'Its Astor, please.'

'Well then, Astor, bugger off,' she gave a bitter smile and shut the door in his face.

A/N

Was that foot really a cake? Who knows. Don't forget to vote and comment to spread some love.