Free The Harlot Bride by Alice Liddell Page A

her.
    “More likely you decided you knew better what’s best for you,” he said with such a sneer in his voice that her argumentative nature was roused. Lucy pulled herself up, tightened the sash of her dressing gown, and stepped up to face him.
    “Well, perhaps I did! I could hardly be expected to traipse through the hallways in that state of undress, where any of the servants might see me!”
    “That is exactly what I expected,” Lord Tazewell said. “It is of no concern to me what the servants see or don’t see, but it is of great concern to me that my orders be obeyed.” He moved back slightly into the room, as if he were going to close the door.
    “Goodnight, Miss Farquhar. You are dismissed.”
    Startled, Lucy tried to protest, but her words came out in a confused jumble.
    “No, wait!…What ....?”
    “I have no use for a woman who cannot follow even the simplest instructions, and, what’s worse, will not do as she has been told,” Lord Tazewell said coldly. “Return to your room at once!”
    “But…!”
    “I will not discuss it with you, Lucy. Return to your room. I shall address this willful display of disobedience first thing in the morning, before my breakfast, but until then, I’ll hear not another word about it.”
    And with that, Lord Tazewell shut his door in Lucy’s face, leaving her in the dark hallway, shivering, bewildered and fuming. For the briefest moment she considered pounding on the door and demanding entry, but the humiliation he had delivered upon her was stronger than her temper was bold. Crying hot tears of anger and shame, Lucy found her way back to her unpleasant, solitary cell of a room, where she crawled into bed and sobbed herself into an uneasy state of sleep.
     
    ** ** **
     
    It was barely light when Mary came knocking for Lucy to get out of her bed, a good deal earlier than the usual hour at which the maid came to rouse her. Lucy had enjoyed very little rest after the events of the previous evening, and she groaned and put her head under the pillow when Mary pulled back the curtains, not that there was yet much daylight to brighten the room.
    “You’d best be quick, miss. This is no morning to dilly–dally. His Lordship will be here shortly, and I’ve got to get you dressed as he’s said ”
    Here? He was coming to this room? Lucy sat up in her bed.
    “Why ever is he coming here?”
    “Please, miss,” Mary pleaded, avoiding Lucy’s eyes. “There’s no time for talkin’. I’ve brung you up warmed water and you’ll be needing to wash up quickly before it goes stone cold.”
    Still perplexed as to why his Lordship would be coming to the room, when he had never come before, Lucy got out of bed, slipping her feet into the flannel house shoes on the floor by the side of her bed. She shuffled to the washstand, rubbing her hands against the chill of the little room. Taking up the cloth and the bar of soap, she noticed that Mary was making the bed, something she didn’t normally do until later in the morning. Lucy didn’t question Mary about this immediately, happy to have the maid’s eyes occupied elsewhere as she washed, but when she finished her ablutions she turned from the washstand and faced the maid with resolve.
    “Really, Mary. I insist to be told what is going on. You are acting most agitated and everything seems to be out of the normal…”
    Then her eyes fell on the garments Mary had begun to spread upon about the neatly made bed.
    “Whatever…?” she cried out in astonishment. She reached for Mary and took a rough hold of both her arms. “What is the meaning of this? What is the meaning of that…that clothing?” she demanded, shaking Mary hard.
    The young maid pulled herself free of Lucy’s grip, her breathing quick and her face set in defiance.
    “You don’t know anything, do you, Miss Smarty from London!” the maid cried, her accent slipping in her agitation. “You’ve gone and made his Lordship angry and he’s coming to teach you