Chapter Twelve
In the days that followed, Annette slowly submerged herself into her new life. Though she found her new Mistress bawdy, and at times a little loud, Lottie proved to be one of the most adequate teachers she had ever had. Once she had been set up in a room of her own and there were not customers to distract her away from her objectives, Lottie took the young girl out behind the tavern and proudly showed her the lush fruit trees that were growing along the edge of the property. As they picked apples and stored them in the folds of their cotton aprons she explained to Annette that the grounds had belonged to a childless inn-keeper and his wife. Their family had purchased the property many generations ago and after years of toiling through the harsh soils and the bludgeoning rainstorms they eventually cultivated a little sliver of paradise. Back in the day (so she said) a whole town surrounded the inn and people would come far and wide to share a pint and exchange news. When the city expanded most of them left for better work but the inn never really snuffed out. It became a stop for weary travellers and a refuge for anyone who longed for the old days.
Lottie had happened upon the Grey Gosling almost the same way Annette had. She stumbled through the front door one evening trying to escape from the rain. She was tired, cold, and had been rejected by her former mistress after being accused of stealing silverware. The innkeeper and his wife could not bring themselves to turn her back out onto the streets and so they offered her a job right then and there. Thus she began her life working at the inn.
For many years Lottie proudly worked for them and earned her wages as a cook and a housekeeper. The regular customers grew fond of her food and loved to hear all the stories she had about her childhood in Ireland. Though she never garnished any fortune from her work she lived comfortably for a very long time. When the couple died four years ago they left everything they had to Lottie. Though she wasn't their daughter their regarded her as the closest thing they'd ever had to one. Out of respect for the hard work she devoted to them, they'd left her all they'd ever owned. In return Lottie made sure that the Grey Gosling never closed it's doors. She stayed there by herself, toiling away a hard but decent living. Though the town had whittled away, the Grey Gosling stood strong and Lottie was proud to still be it's mistress.
She was no farmer by any means but over time Lottie purchased all the livestock she needed to keep her business running. She had a cow to provide her with fresh milk, a couple of goats for cheese, and several chickens to ensure there were always fresh eggs for baking. On the rights side of the property there was a thick forest where blackberry bushes could be found. On multiple occasions Lottie took Annette out and showed her which bushes to pick from, warning her never to venture too far. “These woods are old and thick,” she explained as she pointed past the bush they were gathering berries from. “Wander too far and you'll never be found again.”
Near the back of the inn Lottie had cultivated a humble garden where she grew vegetables and strawberries for her cooking. There was also a rose garden with an old stone bench and a great big willow tree that served as the focal point of the entire backyard. Lottie explained to her that the rose bushes had been planted there by the former owners. They used the fragrant flowers to comfort them every time they suffered the loss of a child. Every time the wife suffered a miscarriage another would be planted, until there was a whole rainbow of flowers growing at the back of their large estate. Annette felt a sting of sadness when she heard this story but Lottie merely smiled and told her that it happened many, many years ago. The couple lived a happy life despite their many losses and the garden had stopped being a monument to death years ago.
Once they had finished picking fruit they carried it all back inside. Lottie escorted her into the kitchen where they both dumped everything into a large basin filled with warm water. Lottie had Annette wash every single piece of fruit as she whisked away to fetch lard, sugar, and flour. “So tell me miss,” She said as she placed everything onto the counter and watched as Annette finished off the last of the apples, “What kind of things did you bake before you were shut away in his Lordships estate?”
Annette froze. “To tell you the truth ma'am,” She mumbled out of the corner of her mouth, finding herself averting her gaze away from the other way. “I've never actually baked anything. The cooks wouldn't let me touch anything when I was still serving as a maid in Blackthorn and before that all I ever did was wash laundry or iron sheets.”
“What?!” Lottie raised her voice as she slapped a bag of sugar onto the wooden surface of the kitchen counter. “That's preposterous. Surely at least your mother taught you something back when you were a wee little lass!”
Lottie's brow furrowed when Annette gave a firm shake of her head. “My mother was a laundress who could not afford to purchase baking supplies. We barely had enough penny's for bread.” She explained to Lottie while stacking the clean fruit into a bowl that was resting on the nearby kitchen table. “She did teach me how to turn day old fish into a tasty stew though...” As she explained herself Annette noticed that Lottie had turned towards her and that aside from the strumming of her dainty fingers across the kitchen counter the room was all but silent. “Is that a problem?” She asked when she had finished, dreading to think what might be going on inside that woman's head.
“Tis not what I expected from a girl of your upbringing,” The older woman replied as she looked over at the apples that Annette had stacked into the bowl for her. “but I reckon you'll learn just as easily under my care. Just you wait little miss, I'll have you baking all sorts of things by the weeks end I swear! ”
Lottie proved to be a kind and patient teacher, one which Annette would have gladly given her right arm to have back when she was still under Lord Derricks thumb. For the rest of that day she taught Annette all the basics in cooking, everything from how to roll out pie crust without making it stick to the proper way to carve things without nicking your fingers. By the evening Annette was dicing away at the apples she had picked earlier and basking in the scent of flour and cinnamon as Lottie put together a dozen pies. By nightfall their first customers were pouring in and Annette was tasked with having to help serve them. With an extra set of hands to help her, Lottie commented that the work was much easier. She took down orders with little ease and used her newly acquired helper to ensure food was carried in and out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. As the night wore on more people trickled through the door; some to drink, others to feast upon the pie that Lottie had made earlier. The fire crackled in the corner of the room as men huddled around it and swapped news. City folk on their way to visit distant relatives stopped in to rent rooms for the evening while patrons that had drunk too much were shoved outside onto the street if they got too bawdy. By the time the last customer had slipped out into the night Annette's feet were tired and aching. She could hardly remember sweeping the floors before Lottie dismissed her for the evening and she retired to her room.
She loved her new home much faster than she thought she would and after she had gotten used to the silence of the countryside she couldn't imagine living any other way. Lottie was the ideal employer, and was patient with Annette not matter how many mistakes she made. In the past Annette had resented being taught. Besides Mr. Kent she had learned to despise many of her instructors as most of them were harsh in dealing with her. They treated failure like a crime and punished her for every single mistake. Lottie was a teacher of a different kind. She was patient and gentle. She taught without criticizing and never sought to punish Annette's missteps. She forgave all blunders, whether they were breaking a dish or burning a whole pot of stew. She was never shrill or prone to raising her voice. When Annette tripped she was more likely to laugh than to scorn her, and when she blackened a entire batch of blackberry tarts Lottie simply had her pack them away into a bundle and gave them to a farmer from another town so he could feed them to his pigs.
She paid Annette for her work of course and the first thing she did with her earnings was buy a new dress. The one she had worn in her escape from Blackthorn was tossed shortly thereafter. Though Lottie protested seeing such a fine garment discarded with such haste Annette would hear nothing about it. She was happy to see it leave her life. With the next few allowances she bought new shoes, stockings, and a nightshirt until all that was left of her former life was the ring that she wore around her finger every so often. Though she was quick to strip away everything else, somehow Annette could not bring herself to throw away the one precious artifact she had taken from Blackthorn. Late at night she would sometimes examine it and remember all the times she had seen it in the paintings that hung throughout Blackthorn. It must have been worth a fortune, but somehow she felt that there was more to it than it's monetary value. Though she couldn't exactly put her finger on it, she knew there was something special about that ring, and so she held on to it in secrecy.
As it turned out Lottie had a great deal to say about Lord Derrick. Though she was not by any means a wealthy woman her engagement to Herald Kent had exposed her to many of the upper classes families living in the city. “I don't go near them often but I've seen a few passing by these parts. They're a pretty lot those folk. Closer to the angels than all the rest of us,” she explained as she carved up apples for another batch of pies. “When I was a tiny lass I'd always dream of being a gentlewoman. I wanted nothing else in the world but to have someone call me Lady.”
Annette was not impressed. “I've met my share of the elite already,” She said with a sour taste on her tongue. “I have nothing good to say about them. They're a bunch of spoiled ponies who take everything they have in this world for granted and snub their noses down on everyone beneath them.”
“I think you're being a little bit unfair with that judgment m'dear.” Lottie sighed as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Being wealthy don't make you wicked. And money isn't always the source of a spoiled heart. I've seen poor men with a greedier streak than nobles have.”
“They were less than kind to me when I was made to share a social event with several of them.” She replied with a heavy sigh. “It was only a few hours but I received more hostile looks in that one night than I've ever had in my entire life prior.”
“Ahhhh, you must be talkin' about the ball where you met my Herald at.” Lottie chuckled as she set the cut of slices into a bowl and reached for another apple. “I know of it. He spoke to me about it in great detail. I can tell you miss you're declaration is still misguided. It ain't fair to judge 'em all based off of that night. There were only a few families present and when you share blood with someone you tend to think like them.
“What do you mean?” Annette replied as she sorted through a batch of blackberries, picking out the unripened ones and tossing them aside. “There were at least a hundred people at that ball. Perhaps even more. Surely they weren't all related!”
“They most certainly were.” Lottie replied with a casual shrug. “Lord Derrick's part of a circle of old and vast families. They're the kind that had enough cousins and distant relations that they can form their own circle without needin' any outside help.” Lottie explained how there were three main households that all mingled. There was Lord Derrick's of course whom once were the most influential in the circle but had dwindled as their members died off. Then there were the Friztgal's and lastly the Bryont's. Despite of the fact that there were virtually hundreds of other elites living in the city these three houses seldom interacted with anyone else. They fancied themselves as the last threads of a 'better' decade. They disdained the prospect of a future in which they shared their power with self-made millionaires and lesser classes. Annette absorbed the information with a mild interest, recalling that she had met members of the other two households at the ball. “They're nothin' like the rest of the elites.” Lottie said as she finished all her slicing. “I've heard stories enough 'em. They're an odd folk. Don't even enjoy Herald's company at times. If his father wasn't teachin' all their children they'd never want to talk to him.”
“Is that why they disliked me so much then?” Annette asked as she stepped away from her work for a moment. “When I encountered Countess Milla at the ball she seemed really angry with me.”
“Old Milla's on the prowl still is she?” Lottie snorted, filling the room with her high pitched laughter. “That old boot wouldn't like you if you were the Queen m'dear. She has it out for anything in a skirt that gets too close to Lord Derrick.”
“If she truly wants him then I wish her all the luck in the world. I'd be delighted if another woman stole him away.”
“She doesn't want him for herself silly. She wants him to wed one of her daughters.” Lottie explained while wiping her hands off on her apron. “Back when Milla was only a young girl herself there was a lot of talk about her marrying Lord Derrick's father. Traditionally those two families married into each other every other generation so it was expected that Milla would be the next one to follow the tradition. But then he went and met Lady Catherine one day and changed his mind. Catherine wasn't part of the families that were in Milla's circle. She was an elite, but not one of high social standing. And her parent's didn't have very much money to provide her with any dowery or wedding present. So when Milla got snubbed for another woman that was considered less valuable it left a real sour note between the two families. When Derrick was born Milla made Catherine swear he'd marry one of her daughters when he grew up and she's been holding onto that promise ever since.”
“I don't see why she'd feel threatened by me then.” Annette shrugged as she watched Lottie pull out the ingredients for the pie crust now. “I'm not exactly rolling in wealth or status...”
“You're a woman and you have his attention. That's threat enough.” Lottie emphasized as she reached for her rolling pin. While she watched her, Annette casually swiped a slice of apple from the nearby bowl and began snacking on it quietly. “I can't blame Milla for what she does. She ain't in a good state of living right now. All she had for children were daughters and she's got a husband who refuses to leave any money to them when he passes. If nothing's done she'll be out on the street and so will her girls. They need a wedding before that fool gets a cold and dies on them. I cannot blame her. I have seen many a' desperate woman do worse to spare their hide.” She paused at that point, looking over to Annette with a queer expression before she added; “Look what you have done in your short life. How many other Ladies have climbed out of a window in the middle of the night?” Annette resented the comparison but she didn't dispute the matter. A small part of her actually agreed with what Lottie had said.
A month passed by and no Lords or Ladies stumbled through their doors. Annette was fully adjusted to her new life by the time the weather began to show signs of changing. Eventually news trickled in from the city about the infamous Lord that she had escaped. Though it had been sometime since Annette found herself climbing out a bedroom window her past had not been erased from her mind. She still sometimes found herself watching others out of the corner of her eye in fear that he might be lurking there. When she started to get news about him she soaked up every detail that she could. She learned that despite the passage of time he had not forgotten her. Gossips now spoke about her nightly as they sat around drinking. The rumours often referred to Annette as a former mistress or a lover. Her defiant escape had been washed away and was easily replaced instead with stories of how she'd merely stormed off one evening after a quarrel. They were not as unfair towards her as she had anticipated though many people believed her decision to leave was foolish and irrational.
Time had not eased the obsession Lord Derrick had over her. Fuelled perhaps by the damage she had inflicted on him before leaving, he had become obsessed with locating her. Supposedly he became more determined every day and offered a large reward to anyone who could locate her. A vague description of her appearance spread like wildfire throughout the city but those who knew of it could only recall minors details. For awhile she found herself looking over her shoulder and out the window. When it got too quiet she would feel her stomach knot although every time she turned around to look there was always nothing there. She never told anyone about it, but from the moment she heard news of Lord Derrick's search she began locking her bedroom door.
Lottie asked her about Lord Derrick near the end of the second month right around the time that cold began sweeping in. She caught the poor girl off guard one day when they were out enjoying the last few days of clear weather and the moment it happened Annette felt an odd numbness wash over the surface of her skin. Though she knew the question was long overdue the thought of having to face all her memories still made her uncomfortable. What had transpired in Blackthorn had not left her mind yet though she had tried her very best to banish them. Somehow, despite her anxieties, she stumbled her way through a confession. She described her life in manor she had once lived and the way Lord Derrick had become enamoured with her. She spoke of how he'd conspired to become her guardian to seize control over her life and the way she'd spent her first few nights under his roof. Though she didn't dare express every vile detail she managed to provide just enough information that the other woman's face lit up with astonishment. She seemed especially mortified when Annette went on to tell her what happened the night of the ball. Her face scrunched up and she didn't say anything at first but Annette could tell that she was disgusted by the tale. With a mournful expression she clicked her tongue and solemnly stated; “No man should ever mishandle a lady that way. Don't matter if she's a whore or a saint, she don't deserve being treated like that. Tis a sort of violence that just ain't natural in civil men.” Lottie never asked another question about Blackthorn again though she sometimes caught her staring off in her direction with a melancholy expression.
Eventually Herald Kent started dropping by. He came bristling in for a chat or a little visit when his father wasn't occupying his time and the weather was pleasant. He always brought the heavy stench of the city with him and a broad smile that seemed to warm any room that he entered. He always wore the same long brown coat that was fraying near the bottom from heavy travel and a hat with a wide brim. He'd sit it on the countertop of Lottie's kitchen and she would raise a fuss about all the dirt covering it. Annette was more than happy to receive his company though he remained a lingering thread that connected her to her old life. Something about the way that he talked put her at ease. Whenever he came in he'd look around for her. He always greeted her before taking off his jacket. And then he would ask her how her day was or what the weather had been like in the country these past few days.
In his ventures to and from the city Herald often encountered the countless members of Lord Derricks social circle. Though the elite families Lottie had told her about retained a hostile attitude to an outsider they permitted him to tutor their children and engage them in deep conversation. Sometimes he would walk with Annette while she collected eggs or picked berries and would amuse her with all the rumours he'd heard. He spoke of how Lord Derrick had doubled the reward for anyone who found her. And that people were bringing fourth any blonde maiden they could find in an attempt to pass her off as Annette. He talked of how the cost of wigs were suspiciously high now, and that an old widow in the market was raving non-stop about seeing a girl exactly like the one Lord Derrick was hunting for. Everything he said was described with obscene laughter. Sometimes she would chuckle along with him.
Whenever Herald was around Lottie seemed a bit more distracted than her usual self. In the presence of her fiance she became both impatient and clumsy. She would burn a pie or drop a broom in the midst of a sweeping. Her plates got chipped more frequently during his visits and her chopping went from elegant strides to butchered hacks. Somehow she never seemed to notice the errors, even if someone else mentioned them to her. Observing her in these moments became a sort of morbid curiosity to Annette. She would often find herself following Lottie around, observing her like an animal in a zoo and wondering what she was thinking.
To be frank the girl was curious about her, and the way she went about her life as nearly married woman. Though Lottie pretended to be mostly indifferent Herald had a way to breaking her cold exterior. Together the pair often escaped outdoors into the rose garden where Annette would sometimes eavesdrop on their conversations. They would sit together on that stone bench and murmur back and fourth about the intimate details of their life- things she knew she had no right to be listening to but desperately wanted to know.
Lottie Brokeshanks, as she learned, had never expected to find herself engaged. Well beyond her prime and neither a grand beauty nor a wealthy one, she had long resolved herself to life as a spinster. When Herald Kent walked into the Grey Gosling two and a half years ago seeking warmth and shelter for the evening she didn't think anything would come of it. He was another traveler in her mind; here to stay only because night had fallen too soon. It all happened on a winters evening when a strong frost had twinged the edges of the leaves and grass. Herald saw something in her that she just didn't see herself though he never said what. Only that from the moment he laid eyes on the innkeeper, with her wild hair all braided down her back, he wanted to know her. He stayed there for the whole week just to have time with her and after he went on his way he made sure to write down the name of her inn to make sure he could come back. That was how it started. No trickery. No scheming. Just an ordinary desire to meet and know someone. Somehow overhearing all of this made Annette's chest feel heavy and she'd sometimes had to stifle a whimper. If this was how courtship was naturally done then whatever had transpired between her and Lord Derrick was beyond the realm of natural.
Their wedding was meant to happen six months ago but had to be canceled after Herald's younger sister suffered a case of sweating sickness. They'd rescheduled for the early spring and despite the fact that it was only another season away Lottie still regarded it as a thing of the distant future. When they ran out of things to say they would linger side by side together while a silence passed through them that was deafening to all who could behold it. Listening to them was profound for she had never seen a couple and observed their habits before. She sat with her back pressed against the kitchen wall with the door opened just enough to be able to hear them. Lottie would giggle sometimes and she knew by the rustle of fabric when he was kissing her. Then as they sat together in a warm embrace she would sink towards the floor with her arms wrapped around her chest and tears prickling the corners or her eyes. She hated those moments. Because her emotions betrayed her and she would remember all that things she'd sworn to forget. The truth, as sad as it made her feel, was that she envied Lottie. Lucky Lottie Brokeshanks, who had found more love in one person than she'd ever had in a lifetime.
