“When I learned she’d hurt you,” he continued, “I got down to the mine and brought help. Another team leader patched you up and helped me carry you here.”
“Where’s here?”
“My father's house, where I normally live,” he relayed, confirming their location.
“Whose room is this?”
“Mine.”
Ranelle swallowed, glancing around the room, intimidated by the beautiful atmosphere Gideon had been brought up in.
“Since unattached miners live in dorms, I insisted that I live there as well. It's only fair.”
Ranelle nodded slightly, looking around the room with a mixed expression.
“What's wrong?” he asked, trying to interpret the look on her face.
“It's just hard to believe that someone would give up these luxuries willingly,” said Ranelle earnestly.
Gideon smiled at her. “Would you like a tour when you're feeling better?”
“Of course,” she replied with a smile as a clump of her newly butchered hair slipped down from behind her ear, falling over her eyes. Before she could swat it back in place, she watched as Gideon reached up slowly, brushing the hair back with his fingers. As they came face to face, the sudden intensity in his gaze startled her, his large brown eyes capturing her and holding her still, trapped inside that moment. A second later, however, and they were both startled as the doorway rushes burst open, and a woman bustled in with a tray of food.
“Rest!” barked the woman who wore an apron around her rotund waist, “she needs rest, boy!”
“Ranelle, this is Wilma, our housekeeper,” Gideon said with a sigh, leaning away from Ranelle and gesturing to the woman with his hand.
“Housekeeper?” the woman barked, shaking her head, which was covered in long, light brown hair pulled tightly into a bun, “more like an animal tender if you ask me.”
“Come on now, we were just talking,” said Gideon sheepishly.
“I'm sure,” she said with her eyebrows raised as she set the food tray down on the bedside table. “Your father wants a word.”
The smile on Gideon's face faltered. “Wilma will take good care of you while I am gone,” he said as he stood, then walked across the room to collect the jacket he’d left on the stuffed chair.
“Yes, yes, we’ll be fine–shoo now!” scolded the woman, sweeping him toward the doorway with her hands.
“Bye,” Ranelle waved weakly as she laid slowly back down in bed. She was grateful for a break as their conversation had brought on a nasty headache, and her injury now throbbed with each heartbeat.
“You must be exhausted,” said Wilma as she tucked Ranelle in and fixed her blankets.
“I am,” she said with a small smile. When the woman was done settling Ranelle, she placed a slotted metal cover over the pyrus lamp, darkening the room significantly, then excused herself so Ranelle could rest.
“The young master and his father have business to attend to today, but he’ll probably be back later to check on you,”
“He’s very kind,” replied Ranelle, attempting to stifle a yawn.
“He’s very persistent,” groaned the old woman. Before Ranelle could ask the housekeeper for clarification, she had left the room.
Ranelle shrugged to herself, then let her mind settle on her last comforting thought. As her eyes drooped and her body succumbed to sleep, Gideon's smile floated around softly inside her head, whispering the words she’s been demoted, over and over like a lullaby inside her mind.
Ranelle slept on for many hours. Wilma returned several times to check on her; however, Gideon's chair remained empty.
When Ranelle had finally slept enough to feel rested, she sat up slowly, testing her injury to see if she would be sick again. This time, the pain was brief, and no dizziness or retching followed, which made Ranelle happy.
Wilma had left a tray of snacks for her earlier, which looked quite tasty now as her stomach growled in response to the visual cue. She pulled the tray across the bedspread and began eating, slowly at first, then more steadily as her appetite grew.
This isn’t food from the food hall.
On the tray were several delicacies that Ranelle had only heard about, but never tried. There was dried kelp from the river, as well as river shrimp, truffles, and cooked kava roots. As she nibbled, she heard footsteps in the hallway before the door rushes slid open, and Wilma bustled in.
“How are we feeling, dear?” she asked sweetly as she approached Ranelle with a hand extended to touch her forehead.
“Better,” she said in between mouthfuls of food.
“Don't they ever feed you, child?” she asked, pulling her hand away and eyeing Ranelle sadly.
“Yeah, I've just never had most of these,” said Ranelle pointing to the food on her dish. “Plus, when we eat at the food hall, we have to hurry on to our assignments, so we can't take the time to enjoy it.”
“Well, go easy while you're here,” the woman replied kindly. “The young master will be back to pester you soon enough!”
“He means well, I think,” said Ranelle thoughtfully.
“Oh, you should have seen him when you first came! He marches in here, an unconscious girl in his arms, barking out orders like he runs the place!” said Wilma with exasperation.
“I'm sure it was a shock; a couple of team leaders bursting in, bringing a bleeding miner girl in for care,” Ranelle laughed at the thought.
“A couple of team leaders? No, no, it was just Gideon who carried you in,” said the housekeeper absentmindedly as she tidied the room.
“But he told me that another miner helped patch me up and bring me here,” said Ranelle confused.
“No dear, when he heard what that girl had done, he flared up something awful! Ran down there to find you and patched you up himself. He wouldn't let anyone else touch you!” The woman took Ranelle’s tray off the bed and held it while she talked. “Then he carried you all the way here.”
Ranelle thought to herself for a few moments. Gideon had told her he was already on his way down to the mines when he’d met up with Abree. He also said he had help getting her to the surface and to the manor. She couldn't believe that he had managed to get her all the way up from the mines alone. Suddenly, she again felt the increasingly familiar pang of guilt in her stomach.
“Then,” continued Wilma, “he had to face his father when he got back. Boy, wasn't he furious!”
“Furious?” Ranelle repeated quietly.
“He’s been helping his father with some special projects, but he just up and left in the middle of his work.”
“Why?” Ranelle inquired, trying to sound conversational instead of nosy.
“He told his father that his mining duties were too important to neglect. His father was fuming, but Gideon left anyway,” Wilma replied, her eyes wide. Ranelle got the distinct feeling that Mr. Warren wasn't a man that people should cross.
“Perhaps I should be leaving,” said Ranelle as she pulled the bedspread aside, swung her legs off the bed and set her feet on the floor. Before Wilma could protest, she stood up, wavering on the spot for a moment before falling onto the floor in a heap.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Wilma, setting down her burdens quickly to try and help.
“What happened?” came a man's voice from the doorway.
“Silly girl,” replied Wilma, “trying to walk before her head has healed, the poor dear.”
A strangers' hands suddenly braced Ranelle's elbows as they helped her get carefully back into the safety of her bed.
“I'm sorry for all of the trouble,” groaned Ranelle, leaning back; her head was pounding again, and her eyes watered.
“Sir, I have kitchen duties to finish up, but I will check back in a little bit,” said Wilma, her eyes questioning.
“Yes, well, don't let us stand in your way,” said the stranger, waving his hand dismissively to her.
The servant nodded, and a moment later, the rushes slid closed behind Wilma, leaving Ranell
e alone with the stranger.
“So, this is the girl who’s disrupted my household?”
“Your household?” asked Ranelle quietly, realizing who the stranger was. Obadiah Warren looked down at Ranelle, an expression of curiosity on his aged face.
“Yes, my dear,” he said kindly.
“I'm sorry, Sir, I was trying to tell Wilma that I should be leaving,” Ranelle placated, eyeing the floor nervously, scared that getting up again might bring her back down upon it abruptly.
“There’s no need,” Obadiah said as he waggled his finger toward her with reassurance. “My son brought you here because undoubtedly, you need our help, and you’re welcome to it. Yes, I was upset when Gideon left his tasks. However, I understand and admire his commitment to his duties.”
As the senior man spoke, his blue eyes twinkled in the faint pyrus light. Ranelle could make out the delicate embellishments on his clothing–stitched with gold-colored thread to outline the luxurious blue fabric of his tunic. His cycles were advanced; she saw him wince when he made specific movements, and his back arched a bit, causing him to haunch over slightly. His hair was thinning; bits of his scalp could be seen through his neatly trimmed brown hair and a thin beard covered his wrinkled face.
As Obadiah finished speaking, Ranelle smiled. “Your son has been very kind, but it's too much. I don't deserve the attention.”
“Well, my dear, I haven't known you long enough to judge your character. However, my son has my trust. If he brought you here, then you are most welcome.” He smiled warmly as he stood up and retreated to the doorway.
“Sir?” Ranelle said as Obadiah reached for the rushes.
“Yes, dear,” he said, looking back at her.
“Do you know when Gideon will return?” she asked as she adjusted her pillow.
“Late, I would imagine, since this is his first day at his new assignment,” replied Obadiah with a thoughtful smile.
“New assignment?”
“Yes, he is working in the administration offices now. Mining is far too dangerous for a young man with his status and expectations.”
“He isn't a team leader anymore?” asked Ranelle, her smile quickly fading.
“I'm sorry, child, but Gideon has many more responsibilities to Ashbourne, besides leading a mining team. I allowed his fostering into the trade as is customary, but it has gone on long enough. He is old enough to start training to be the next Regent,” explained Obadiah simply.
Ranelle blinked stupidly, attempting to process the information, “the next...Regent,” she repeated slowly, as if hearing the word for the first time.
“That's right,” Obadiah nodded kindly, “you didn't think he would stay working in the mines forever, did you, dear?”
“Well,” she sputtered stupidly, “I guess I just didn't think about it much.”
“I'm sure you didn't, my child,” he smiled, “that's my job! To think and plan ahead for Ashbourne’s future.”
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly, looking down into her lap.
“Rest now, my dear, I will see to it that you recover in peace before your departure,” Obadiah said with finality in his voice. Ranelle watched as he exited the room, gently pulling the doorway rushes closed, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Chapter Seven
Hours after the Regent had left, Wilma returned to check on her, carrying yet another food tray against her hip.
“Here are some hearty fixings to help get your strength back,” Wilma said with a wink, “it'll put some meat on your bones!”
Ranelle had the distinct feeling that Wilma was of the mind that she was too skinny. Not wanting to displease the housemaid, she ate every bite of the fish and kava root stew she had made for her. When the delicious meal was done, she set it aside and slid back down into her comfortable bed.
Gideon's bed.
As she mulled over that thought, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Why did even just thinking of Gideon cause such a physical reaction? She hated it, hated the fact that her body betrayed her feelings so blatantly.
It doesn't matter how I feel about him, he’s privileged, I'm not.
That settled it.
Feeling relieved with her renewed determination, she laid back in bed comfortably, her full belly dragging her into a restful sleep.
Later that night, Ranelle was awakened by the soft sound of the doorway rushes being pushed aside, as a figure entered the room quietly, attempting not to be heard. She watched as Gideon, tired from what Ranelle guessed was a long day’s work, pulled off his jacket and kicked off his boots. He plopped down into the overstuffed chair and stretched his legs out, rotating his sore ankles.
“It's late,” said Ranelle in little more than a whisper. Despite her effort, Gideon jumped and rose to his feet.
“Yeah, sorry...I didn't mean to wake you,” he said, yawning as he ran his hand through his already ruffled hair.
“Your father visited me today,” Ranelle said plainly, sitting up in the bed, her covers falling lightly to her lap. She could tell that her news surprised and shocked him.
“My father?” he repeated as he crossed the room, approaching her beside.
“Yes,” said Ranelle, looking up at him, “when were you going to tell me that you're done in the mines?”
Obviously, Gideon had been afraid of her finding out. He sighed heavily with resignation. “I was going to tell you, Elle,” he placated, reaching his hand out to her.
“No, you weren't,” Ranelle said coldly as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaving Gideon with his arm extended, his gesture unanswered.
“Elle, please,” said Gideon, his voice was desperate, “I was going to tell you when the time was right.”
“Gideon,” Ranelle replied curtly as she held her hand up to keep him from speaking further, “I'm an unprivileged orphan who works in the mines. I understand how this goes.”
“But Elle that's not how I want it to be,” Gideon pleaded, kneeling by her bedside, he tried to take her hands into his.
“Ranelle,” she corrected, pulling away from him, “and it doesn't matter what you want Gideon. Your father made that quite clear.”
“What did he say?” he asked, obviously hurt by her words.
“It doesn't matter,” she said, resigned, “nothing is ever in our control.” Gideon went to speak again, but Ranelle waived him off and ducked back under the bed covers. “Goodnight,” she said, effectively ending their conversation.
Waiting under the blanket, barely breathing for what seemed like forever, Gideon eventually left her beside. She listened, her heart breaking as he gathered his belongings from the overstuffed chair and quietly left the room. After the soft sound of the doorway rushes being slid closed met her ears, Ranelle let her breath out slowly as tears crept into her eyes. She battled the current futilely before letting go, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, absorbed into the soft sheets of her luxurious bedding. She wept for some time before remembering what Obadiah had said as she closed her eyes, the look of hurt on Gideon’s face, when she had refused him, was still fresh in her mind.
“Why do things have to be this way,” she whispered into the night. She knew she couldn't have anything with Gideon, his father would never allow it. Plus, he was predestined to do extraordinary things with his life. Ranelle's cheeks burned in the night air. She felt foolish for accepting any of his attention. As she laid in his bed, she looked around the room and realized suddenly that she didn't belong in Obadiah Warren's house.
Ranelle gathered her strength and crawled out of bed. Her mining clothes had been washed and folded neatly by Wilma and now sat on the small side table by the bed. Slowly undressing, she changed back into her familiar mining uniform. Feeling more like herself, she quietly slid the doorway rushes aside, peering out into the darkened corridor. She was met with silence, as the household inhabitants were either asleep or busy with other tasks. Venturing out into the passage, she carried the small pyrus hand-lamp from her room, to lig
ht the way.
As she crept through the house, unsure of which way to go, she saw fascinating things everywhere. Tiptoeing past many rooms, each designed for a different purpose, Ranelle couldn’t believe one house could be so massive.
What a waste of space.
Her mouth hung agape as she walked past a room filled entirely with bookshelves, each one mounted high with volumes that appeared older than her. Another area contained a single wooden table with chairs. Ranelle counted twenty-four high-backed chairs around the table as, unable to help herself, she slowly ran her hand across its smooth, polished surface. She’d never seen furnishings like this before. She inspected a chair; its vibrant red cushion was held to the wood with metal pins. Ranelle had never met a craftsman with the skills required to create such masterpieces.
Where did this furniture come from?
Ranelle burned with curiosity, but her goal was to get out of the house unhindered, so she decided the mystery of the furniture's origins would have to go unanswered.
She reluctantly left the room with the giant table in it, giving it one last glance as she continued in the direction of what she thought might be the exit. As she slinked through the manor, the lamplight illuminated different objects, forming weird shadows on the walls as she passed by.
Eventually, she entered a spacious hallway, broader than those she’d seen so far. As the lamplight flickered in the chilled air, she could barely see what looked like a large door at the end of the hall. Hoping it was the way to the exit, Ranelle crossed to the end of the hallway, her footsteps silent on the stone floor. As she reached the door, she set her lamp down on a small table that stood to the right of the doorway.
Peering up at the massive entrance, the door itself was yet another mystery to her. Made of wood, it stood several feet taller than Ranelle, with large scrolling metal hinges and hardware holding it in its place. The handle, which was also metal, was polished to a brilliant shine and looked as if it was made to perfectly fit a persons’ palm as it was turned.
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