Lord Day and Lady Night

52. An Offal Morning

"Miss Weston! Lord Patrick! Oh, how horrible! Something awful has happened!"

Amy yawned, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Shifting, she gently pushed Grace, who must have climbed into her bed at some point during the night, off her chest. Smiling, she reached out to stroke the little girl's hair. Seeking refuge from nightmares in her bed? The irony of that thought nearly made her laugh. It was the first time someone had climbed into her bed in the middle of the night who wasn't likely to give her nightmares.

Da first time? What about when 'is Lordly Lordship decided ta get a comfy cuddle-pillow and—

Luckily, the same voice that woke her a moment ago interrupted her thoughts at that point.

"Oh, Miss Weston! Your Lordship! What a tragedy!"

Dammit, they were loud! Why would anyone make a ruckus like this so early in the morning?

Well...time to find out.

She had just dressed and was stepping out of her room when she saw their gracious host, Lord John Wetherston, racing down the corridor, his face somehow both pale and flushed. "Something awful has happened! Something really awful!"

Amy blinked, taken aback. What could he be talking about? Cautiously, she threw a glance out of the window. Everything seemed perfectly fine and peaceful.

By now, the others were slowly coming out of their rooms, rubbing their eyes and yawning. Karim especially looked like he'd gotten up on the wrong side of the torture rack. His face seemed to be carved from hardwood, and his turban sat at an odd angle, looking rather adorable. Titus, for his part, looked like he hadn't gotten up yet at all, but had merely been replaced by a zombie doppelganger.

"Awful!" Lord Wetherston continued to mutter. "Simply awful!"

"Offal?" Titus the Zombie groaned, leaning against the doorframe, eyes three-quarters closed. "What d'you want offal for?"

Amy shoved him out of the way.

"What's 'appened?" she demanded, anxiety now truly rising inside her at the horrified expression on the nobleman's face. "Out with it!"

"It's the Duke of Arrendyle!" Wetherston exclaimed. "The Duke of Arrendyle's castle burned to the ground last night. It's a horrible tragedy!"

"Mmmm. Offal. Lots of offal," Titus grumbled. "Call me when you find the rest of the chicken. I'm gonna go back to bed till breakfast's ready."

And with another zombie groan, he lurched back into the bedroom.

"I don't like offal either." Yawning, the tiny figure of Grace standing in the doorway to Amy's chamber rubbed her eyes and turned back into the room. "Always tastes like mice droppings. We ain't gonna 'ave mice droppings for breakfast, are we?"

"No sweety," Amy told her, patting the little girl's head. "Go back ta bed."

"'llright."

She turned, and shuffled back into the room, closing the door behind her.

"The castle burned down," Lord Wetherston reiterated, glancing from one of them to another. "The duke's castle."

"All right, darling." Cora patted her husband's shoulder. "So, what's for breakfast?"

"I vote for buns," Jenny exclaimed. "I love buns!"

"In da oven?" Amy innocently suggested, and quickly dodged to avoid Jenny's elbow.

"Is anyone interested in the fact that the duke's castle burned down?" Lord Wetherston enquired.

"Not really, no." Cora gave her husband another gentle pat. "Sorry, darling."