Crown Phoenix: Night Watchman Express

by Alison DeLuca

Chapter 4

  A Very Unpleasant Scene

  unlight filtered through her lashes. Miriam stretched and winced as her head struck the floor. Looking around, she realized she had fallen asleep after all. Had she dreamed at all during the night? She couldn’t remember.

  Her stomach rumbled. Not bothering to change her clothes, she got up and listened at the door. There wasn’t a sound from the hallway, so she slipped out into the hall and crept down the stairs.

  In the kitchen, Mrs. Williams stood at a broad wooden table, kneading something in a bowl. Her back was to Miriam, so the girl darted in, grabbed a piece of bread from a plate and darted out again.

  “Stop that, now, you thieving varmint!” the cook shouted. “I’ll not have all my bread stolen by the likes of you!”

  Miriam ignored her and raced to the library. She pulled out the book of Arabic tales she had been reading the day before. She sat behind one of the large armchairs, opened the book and bit into the bread.

  About an hour later, she heard the other occupants begin to move about in the house. Doors banged overhead. A bell rang, and the stairs creaked as Nelly slowly went up to the bedrooms. Miriam vaguely heard the maid mutter to herself, “Indian tea, and black coffee, and a pot of chocolate. Would yiz fancy a pint of porter as well?”

  Her footsteps died away and Miriam became absorbed in her story again. Her half-eaten bread forgotten, she pushed her hair back out of her eyes and smeared crumbs over her face.

  When she reached the end of the story, she looked up and sighed. It had come out just right. The beggar had defeated the evil Grand Vizier to win the hand of the princess.

  “Perhaps in that drawer,” someone murmured.

  Miriam froze. Somebody – no, two people – had entered the room while she read. She had been so absorbed that she hadn’t heard them come in. She poked her head cautiously around the side of the chair.

  A man sat at her father’s desk, leafing through some of the bills. As Miriam watched, a woman stepped in front of the desk with another sheaf of papers. “These don’t seem to be of any importance, Virgil,” the woman said. “I’m going to burn them in the fire.”

  “Better let me look at them first, Theodosia.” The man stretched out one arm. “Never know what could be written on the back of a simple handbill.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Although, I doubt he would have kept it in such a public place; I really think we’re wasting our time here.” She picked up a large ledger and began to turn the pages, looking at them from top to bottom in a suspicious manner.

  “True as always, my dove. However, every man to the deck, and no shirking one’s duty, eh?” The man laughed nervously. The woman ignored him and started to pore over the pages of a large ledger.

  Miriam burst out from behind the chair. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  The woman shrieked, and jumped. The heavy volume she held in one hand fell to the floor with a loud thud. “Who in God’s name is that!” she screamed.

  “Why are you looking in my father’s desk?” Miriam demanded again.

  The woman turned a brick red, but whether it was from embarrassment or anger, Miriam couldn’t tell. “How dare you–” the woman began. But the man behind the desk put down the document he had been reading, stood up and came forward. He put one hand on his wife’s arm.

  “Theodosia, my dear, please,” he cautioned. He turned to the girl. “Miriam – it is Miriam, isn’t it? - We are Mr. and Mrs. Marchpane, but I hope you will call us uncle and aunt. Uncle Virgil and Aunt Theodosia, eh?”

  “What are you doing with my father’s things?” Miriam ignored the hand he held out to her.

  “Insufferable manners!” The woman drew in a deep breath through her thin nostrils.

  “Theodosia, please.” The man smiled, showing a lot of long teeth, and turned back to Miriam. “I am your father’s partner, my dear. One-time partner, I should say. Em, sorry about his, you know, death, and all that, eh? My wife and I have come here to set everything in order, as set down in your father’s will. We hope to ensure that your father’s fortune is held securely for you, as well as -”

  The woman came forward and interrupted him. “Virgil, enough. We are now your guardians, Miriam. As such, we will need to make some changes, of course, and you will simply have to adjust to them.”

  Miriam’s clothes were crumpled, since they were the same ones she had worn the night before. Untidy black ringlets hung in front of the girl’s sallow face. Her eyes were as dark as her hair. Her elbows poked out of her sleeves, and her stockings puddled in wrinkles around her bony ankles.

  “Did you sleep in those clothes?” Theodosia sniffed. “Disgusting. First we will have to make sure that you are washed and dressed properly. You should be in black, as befits the occasion.”

  “Don’t think you can talk to me like that!” Miriam shouted.Theodosia, surprised, took a step back before she could stop herself. “Get out of my house!”

  “Now, now.” Virgil came forward and baring his teeth in a huge smile. His eyes darted in a desperate way between the furious little girl and his wife, who looked just as angry. “No need for scenes; let’s just make the best of a bad situation, eh?”

  Miriam turned to him. “I will not! Get out of my father’s desk! Get out of my house!”

  Theodosia stepped forward and grasped the girl’s wrist. “See, Virgil? I knew how it would be. We will send her up to her room at once. Ring for the servant,” she panted, holding on to Miriam’s arm as the girl pulled and tore at the tight grip on her hands, and applied her teeth to the woman’s bony fingers.

  “Little wildcat!” Theodosia swore, jumped back and released the girl. “Ring at once, Virgil, do you hear? Come back here, you –”

  Miriam managed to twist loose. She ran over to the desk, where she pulled a pile of papers off and scrambled over to the fire. There she thrust them into the heart of the blaze.

  Virgil, who had been standing like a statue to one side, suddenly took action. He hurriedly applied his finger to a brass button near the door on the wall.

  Miriam had gone back to the desk to pile more papers into her arms. “You won’t! You can’t! I won’t let you!”

  He tried to rescue some of the documents that had caught fire and were now burning merrily. A cinder in the grate popped and sent forth a shower of sparks onto his shirtfront, and he jumped backwards with a loud oath. Miriam came forward with another armful of papers, and he caught her arms to stop her from throwing them in as well. She immediately twisted away and began to scream, a thin wail that went on and on, rising in volume, until she was as loud as any train engine’s whistle.

  Theodosia put her hands over her ears. “Stop it at once!” she shouted. “Stop that! Be quiet, you untidy brat!” Her shouts also increased in volume as the girl screamed louder and louder.

  The door opened and Furnace stood, looking into the room without showing any emotion. “You rang for me, sir?” he asked.

  Instantly, the noise stopped as quickly as it had begun. For one moment, Virgil, Theodosia, and Miriam stood like a group getting a photo taken: ‘Portrait of a Disturbing Scene.’ Theodosia pointed one long, knuckled finger at Miriam.

  “Take this child back to her room.” Her voice shook with anger. “Find her a black dress, or some decent mourning wear. And she will stay there without supper or tea until she says she is sorry to my husband and me.”

  Miriam marched over to Furnace and glared at Theodosia. “I’m going,” she announced. “And I’m not saying I’m sorry. Not to you. Never.” She marched out, and Furnace followed more slowly.

   Virgil rushed to the fireplace and applied the poker and tongs. He stepped back from the grate and dusted off his trousers. “I managed to save most of the documents, anyway. They’re a bit scorched, but I think the ones she burned were worthless, really.”

  Theodosia stood at the window, her arms held stiffly down by her sides. Looking out at the neat lawn and clipped hedges through the w
indow, she said, “I have never been spoken to in such a manner by a child. Never. I shall tame her spirit, Virgil, believe me.”

  He blew some ashes off the pile of papers he held and brought them over to the desk. “Er, my dear.” He pulled down the corners of his mouth and looked at his wife. “That is, she is just a child, you know, and she has recently lost her father, and, you know, all of that.”

  Theodosia turned from the window and raised one hand as if brushing away a fly. “Nonsense. We have a great deal to do, Virgil, if we want to get our business project started. We must begin our work on that score very soon. We have to see to the settlement, and find the catalyst engine for that Machine, wherever Pearson left it.”

  “Quite, my dear,” he began, but she cut him off and clicked her tongue with annoyance.

  “For goodness sake! I entirely forgot I wanted her moved out of her bedroom so that it could be prepared and fumigated for our son! Now that she has been sent upstairs I cannot toss her out. I will have to wait now. It is all her fault that I forgot to do so!”

  “You are right, as always, Theodosia. I only meant that we should show some spirit of kindness to Pearson’s daughter, or people might start asking questions.” He set the papers down, sat on the edge of the desk, and looked up at her. “And it is a dashed awkward time for people to ask questions, if you take my meaning.”

  She sighed with exasperation. “Virgil, leave the child to me, while you get things in order. You have too much on your mind to worry about a little baggage like that. What do these papers here show, in any case? How is the company holding up since Pearson’s death?”

  Virgil felt for his handkerchief and began to dust off a ledger of names with figures written next to them. “Oh, quite tolerably. He was a stickler for organization and a tight profit, despite his shortcomings in other matters. It’s just too bad that he didn’t agree with my proposals regarding the use of – well, we won’t go into all that now, before breakfast. However, Theo, I think I can get everything up and running in a month or so, and we may begin the new project.”

  His wife bent her head. “I’m sure you will; you may appear to be a complete fool, but I suppose I cannot deny your business knowledge. As I’ve said before. Now.” She straightened her spine and headed to the door. “A few hours of hunger will calm the girl and bring her around to our side. Besides, a little fasting never hurt anyone. I guarantee you that she’ll bend to my will by tomorrow, indeed, if not by this very evening.”

  Virgil looked up from the ledger, huffed with relief, and kissed his fingers to her.

  Simon chose that moment to burst into the room. “What’s going on? We heard a terrific row. Who was shouting their heads off?”

  Theodosia stopped at the doorway and looked at her husband. “You see?” she said, with a great deal of feeling. “She has damaged our family and our son already. Now, I’m on my way.”

  She strode out and nearly ran over Neil. Scorching him with an impatient look, she pushed past him in the hall. Neil, who had flattened himself against one wall to let her pass, let out his breath with a loud “Whew!”

  Those who work behind the scenes, in the kitchens and washrooms and gardens of a large house, learn very quickly what is going on with the occupants. Before lunch, everyone, including the gardeners, was aware that the new mistress was what they called a right terror. She swept through the house, ordering changes throughout. Paintings had to be moved, glassware was to be put away and lists were to be compiled of the contents of closets and storerooms. “She even,” said the cook, folding large arms, “was so bold as to inquire after My Pantry.”

  Mr. Pearson’s rooms had to be cleared out and the bed made up with fresh linens, and the Marchpanes’ trunks were moved in to the large suite and unpacked. On her tour of the house, Theodosia stopped in front of Miss Miriam’s door (which was firmly closed) and had been about to enter, but she seemed to reconsider and moved up to the next floor to view the attics.

  There, the maids’ rooms had merely warranted a quick glance, but the large room that was used as a storehouse for old books was investigated thoroughly.

  Mrs. Marchpane had “poked her long nose into every corner,” George, one of the footmen, said bitterly, “and she wanted them big crates moved and opened. And it was the same with the box room!”

  “And I heard tell, she has inquired after a skilled dressmaker in town,” one of the maids said and poked George with her elbow. “Think she fancies herself in silk and satin? Can’t you just see her in a ball dress, or a morning gown?”

  “She should stick to puce,” George responded. “It would match her face.”

  “That’s enough from you, George,” Furnace said. “Mrs. Williams, if you would be so kind as to pass the mustard. They are our new master and mistress, and as such, must be obeyed if we want to keep our positions. And,” he pointed his knife at them, “meanwhile, Miss Miriam lies in her room, not having eaten a bite all day.” He added a slice of cheese to the bread he had liberally spread with mustard.

  Mrs. Williams, the cook, put down her cup of tea and sighed. “She may be a charge and a handful and a little terror, but it takes my appetite away, Mr. Furnace, to think of it. Never in my household has a child gone hungry or wanted for a meal. Never, Mr. Furnace. How long can she last, do you think?”

  Nelly, the maid, and George looked at each other. Furnace put his bread and cheese into his napkin, folded the cloth around it, and said, “For as long as she needs to, Mrs. Williams, if you take my meaning. Would you have any spare apples in the pantry?”

  Mrs. Williams laughed, and her large bosom wobbled. “I would indeed, Mr. Furnace. Be careful with that meal; I’m sure you want to keep your position!”

  Nelly spluttered with laughter, and George choked on his bite. Furnace returned from the pantry with a large apple in one hand and favored them with a mild stare and one raised eyebrow. “But of course, Mrs. Williams,” he murmured, polishing the fruit and adding it to the pile in the large napkin. “We must keep our places, so we can look after things, as well as after our late master’s only daughter.”  He put the folded packet into his breast pocket and left the room.