Ward of the White Worm

The small but well appointed room had its curtains drawn to keep the chill of the weather outside from seeping through the poorly fitted window. The fireplace was aglow with the warmth of a small fire, largely hidden behind a firescreen painted to reflect the better days of the Brynemoor with small farmsteads and cozy looking churches. The walls were covered in blue wallpaper that crinkled slightly in places hidden by the tasteful and simple oak furniture.

Henrietta had originally sat at a chair placed next to the bed that Olli was resting in, but oddly Olli only briefly slept for perhaps an entire hour before she awoke. She did not have the confused and somewhat alarmed face she did earlier, but did not want to answer what sort of terror had gripped her earlier. Henrietta decided rather than make her relive such awful nightmares, to instead encourage the child to practice on her sewing in the combination of candle and firelight. Henrietta herself then retired to an oak table where her box of crafts sat open, sitting at it with the chair turned to allow her to still face Olli.

“Do I need to?” Olli grumbled as she fiddled with string and needle.

“Idle hands are sinful hands,” Henrietta answered, having taken up her own needle to work on fixing a sleeve on one of Olli’s coats she had brought with her into the Inn.

“I hate sewing,” Olli muttered bitterly.

“It is not a matter of love or hate, but gaining a proficiency that ensures future usefulness to you,” Henrietta said from her spot, her neat close-packed stitching was almost effortless, and completely mindless to her. It allowed her to focus part of her attention instead on the newspaper that was on the table she sat beside. The paper, titled the Running Caller, itself was a week old, and a pinned note asked that whomever was reading it to leave it in the room or otherwise pay a three shilling fee for removing it. Henrietta felt this was rather unnecessary since the newspaper clearly labeled itself as being only seven pence.

The front page had lurid headings such as ‘FIRE AT DAIRY CLAIMS SEVEN’, ‘JILL THE KNIFE TAKES ANOTHER MAN’, ‘HER MAJESTY’S FIFTH-PREFERRED TAILOR CAUGHT WITH LADY DELIGHT; SUSPICIONS OF BIGAMY ABOUND’. None of these titles were what Henrietta felt safe for the eyes of young children nor the spreading of honest news from afar.

There was a knock at the door and Henrietta straightened up, “hello! I am sorry, we are not currently in need of anything. Thank you!”

“May I come in anyway?” Theodore’s voice replied from behind the door, slightly muffled.

“Yes!” Olli said, nearly throwing her needle in joy at the possibility of escape.

“You may, sir, if you wish,” Henrietta spoke, then lowered her head slightly differentially as the door opened. She was a little surprised to see Theodore walk in, bearing a tray with a small pot of hot cocoa and three cups on one hand easily as he shut the door silently behind him. He then paused to glance around the room, his pale eyes swept over both Henrietta and Olli, then over the furniture. His brow furrowed a little and then he walked towards the table Henrietta sat at to set the tray down and then sit himself down in another chair. “Sir?”

“I apologize for coming in so abruptly,” Theodore said with a slight frown, “however I felt it was very rude of myself to abandon you both so quickly to hide myself in the dining room.”

“Ah,” Henrietta raised her brows slightly and quickly mastered herself to avoid any coloration of shame touching her sharp features. It was not that Theodore had abandoned them, more that she had told him that she had everything under her power involving the child and to not worry himself much more. With the time that had passed, although only a short few hours, Henrietta now felt ashamed of how she treated him. She was used to taking charge of her wards, both in health and illness, and rarely did fathers seem to concern themselves much with said children’s health unless the child was on the doorstep of death. She had seen the occasional exception, indeed even her dear uncle was such, but they seemed more to prove the rule that men did not want to associate with sickly children.

But here was Theodore, sitting with them, and having even brought a tray of hot cocoa for them all.

“Do not take any blame upon yourself, sir,” Henrietta said. “I am more responsible. I did not mean to exile you from the room.” Then she looked to Olli, who was still sitting in her bed. “Miss Olivia, come sit with us.”

Olli needed no other invitation to hop out of her bed and scuttle up beside them, sitting at a third chair and looking intently at one of the cups. “...Please can I have some?”

“Oh, so prompt and polite,” Theodore said, picking up the pot and pouring the contents into one of the cups, handing it to the girl. “Would you like some as well, Miss Marsh?”

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate the offer,” Henrietta said while some part of her mind was spinning with slight bewilderment. An earl, a member of the peerage and a person with the blood of divinity in his veins, was… pouring her hot cocoa? How odd and yet appreciated. She was suddenly very aware of how cold she felt, and the exhaustion in her limbs. The earl set the cup in front of her, before focusing on making his own.

“Has the ride been tolerable for you two so far?”

Olli nodded, and Henrietta nodded as well.

Theodore took his spectacles off to set them in his vest pocket, leaning against the chair he sat in. “When we are at the capital, things will be different,” he finally spoke drearily. “There are more requirements for me to leave and… socialize,” the way he said the word ‘socialize’ was full of disgust and discomfort.

“I understand you have duties in Parliament,” Henrietta nodded.

“What is a ‘parliament’?” Olli asked.

“We have not spoken about civics yet, Miss Olivia, we will leave that lesson to when we arrive in the city,” Henrietta said. In truth she should have been teaching Olli such lessons, but the girl’s education was so deficient in the basics of being a young lady that she had not the time to broach the subject yet.

“What you need to know is that I spend much of my time in a large poorly ventilated room next to a offal filled river, having grown men scream at me, and yelling back at them,” Theodore sighed wearily. “Then I must go out later to have dinners with them.”

“Are we coming?” Olli asked.

Theodore made a face, one of sudden horrified realization. “...Likely, yes.”

Olli loudly slurped her drink, looking over the rim of her cup at Henrietta. Henrietta herself was between admonishing the girl for poor manners and trying to think of some statement to soothe the earl. There was a tense silence with only the rain outside to keep the ears aware. Finally she said, “sir I will assure you that if such situations happen, we will both be on our best behavior.”

“It’s not your behaviors I worry about,” Theodore muttered, “it’s the behavior of others that concerns me.” His face then cooled as he got up and gave a short bow to the two. “I will now be retiring to my room. Thank you for allowing me in to speak with you both.”

“It is a pleasure sir,” Henrietta bowed her head to him, her legs did not want to move.

“Bye Uncle Theodore!” Olli waved.

Theodore gave them both a smile, then put his spectacles back on and left.

Henrietta picked up the pot of cocoa and found it was still both warm and half full. “Miss Olivia, you may have another cup if you wish.”