“Nonetheless, you two were very close. Surely, you must not be that foul-smelling if he was able to stand being so near to you.”
“My father did just pass away, and perhaps as he said, he does indeed see me as a friend, for he was simply asking me in the sincerest of tones, how I was dealing with my father’s death. I have not lied to you Judith, nor would I ever. Charming and handsome as he may be, my best friend is marrying him, and I couldn’t be happier for you.”
Lady Judith’s cheeks glowed crimson. “Dear Wylie, I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Come here…” she gathered her in a hug and held her tight. “I’ve been so ludicrously selfish. Your father just died… I don’t know what’s the matter with me?” The smell of flowers wafted to Wylie’s nose, and she welcomed it. She had been craving a hug from her best friend for several days; so much so that a lump rose in that back of her throat and tears threatened to spring up again, but she held them back.
“I’ve missed you, Judith. The ceremony was small but lovely I wish you had been able to be there. How are you? What is going on? Why did you throw me out of your house so quickly, earlier?”
“Oh dear,” Judith ended their hug by pushing Wylie in front of her. “Please don’t hate me for what I am about to say.”
“What? Goodness' sake, what is it, Judith?”
“It’s my father. He’s found two investors, and the three of them are planning to purchase Lugwallow Parish.”
“What?” Wylie stared at her in dismay, but her friend just looked down at the floor in abject silence.
Chapter Four
“What?” Wylie asked again.
Still no answer.
“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? That means someone with money is going to purchase Lugwallow Parish and clean it up, right? That means that perhaps all the families that live there may receive proper housing, correct?”
“Oh, dearest Wylie, I wish I could tell you that my father had only the best of intentions, but I am afraid it is quite the opposite.”
“Stop being so cryptic, just lay it out!”
“Dad blammit it all, Wylie; it’s not easy to tell my best friend, that my father wants to acquire her home. He wants to acquire all the homes in Lugwallow so the families can be booted out into the streets and the homes can be knocked down to make way for new businesses and upper-class society!” breathless, Lady Judith covered her mouth and stepped back.
“Surely you must be jesting, Judith? Please tell me you’re jesting? Surely your father wouldn’t do that to innocent people?” her voice rose an octave. “Tell me he would not destroy the lives of children, and the old and the sick, all for his own monetary gain?”
“I would like nothing better. I wish it were all in fun, but it's not. You must warn the families! You must get them somewhere safe!”
Wylie couldn’t bring herself to speak for the moment, the thought rolled through her mind of old Thomas Wilfred Fleming the Vicar she paid her rent to. She knew that he was getting up in age, but she had always assumed he would pass the church and the parish of Lugwallow down to his son. Why hadn’t he told her he was selling Lugwallow off?
“Judith, some of those miserable little homes are all those people have in the world. I am not about to tell them to leave, but I can guarantee if your father tries to take our homes, he is going to have a fight on his hands. I may be only one person, but so help me… I will fight to the death for those people! How dare he take advantage of a good man like the Vicar?”
“You stubborn arse!” Judith shouted at her. “You’re going to lose everything; don’t you get it? Everything! Please get out of there while you still can! You have no idea the influence my father has. He could send you to jail!”
“Then let him send me because he’s not getting mine or anyone else’s dwelling without losing some of his favorite body parts.”
Judith gasped, tears welling up in her face, “I was trying to help you!”
“Sounds like you were trying to help your father more, eh? Clear out the houses... make it easier for him to move in. I don’t think so. We’re done here.” For the first time in their entire friendship, Wylie realized why Lord Jameston had discouraged their camaraderie. Lady Judith and Wylie came from two different worlds.
Two worlds that would most likely never merge peacefully without a full-blown war between the classes, much like the one Wylie imagined was going to happen if Ukridge tried to take their homes.
She didn’t know how or when, but she was going to stop him. She may still be a bit young, but she was no chavy of a girl anymore. She was a woman, and she would fight for what was hers, even if it meant giving up all of her wages to the vicar so that he would not sell off Lugwallow.
Wylie finished brushing the mares coats, all four of them, after tucking Chaos back in his stall with fresh bedding and a manger full of hay. Then she filled their feed bins for the night and kissed their noses before heading home. All the while she was thinking of how she would present the issue to the people of Lugwallow. She only hoped they were willing to fight for what was rightfully theirs.
XXX
Whether it was sleep deprivation or the loss of her father still weighing heavily on her heart as Wylie walked home feelings of dread came unbidden. She wasn’t normally one to be anxious, but she highly distrusted Lord Jameston and her mind began to fill with all sorts of possible violent scenarios.
Only moments before she had felt certain she would be willing to fight Lord Jameston tooth and nail, fear gradually became an overwhelming force.
Of course the Vicar would refuse my wages? Obviously it's nowhere near what he would get from Lord Jameston. What if I do rally the people of Lugwallow against him? He’ll likely have us all jailed? What about the children who are too young to care for themselves? What about the widow Turpin? As stubborn as that woman is she won’t last a day in a moldy cell on rations of dry bread and dirty water.
That’s if Lord Jameston is feeling generous. He might just as well have us all hanged, including Thomas Fleming. Maybe I shouldn’t fight him? Maybe I should just run? But then he wins. Papa, I wish you were here. I don’t know what to do. If you were here, you would tell me what to do to make this right.
Wylie covered the distance in short order as her pace quickened and her thoughts raced. Leave her beloved home? It was almost too much to comprehend. It was all she had left of her father, and yet his death made her home just a sad memory. Maybe it would be better for all of them to pick up and move while they had the chance to do so.
Maybe moving will give us the fresh start we so desperately need. So much loss, so much death. The consumption has taken so many of us. Perhaps a new place to live will give us hope. We haven’t had hope in a long time. Yet, I can’t see myself leaving Lugwallow. My beloved Lugwallow. If only Lord Jameston would help us fix up our homes and stay in them. Wylie already knew that Lugwallow Parish was an eyesore, but she dearly loved the Parson Thomas Fleming, and knew that it was his age, not his lack of desire to fix things that kept it in disrepair. If only she could plead her case to a higher up, but that would be wasted efforts.
Wylie arrived home so quickly, she was hardly able to remember the journey. Her thoughts burned with the possibilities of what it would take for her people to fight against a man such as Lord Jameston and win. She knew that the people of Lugwallow would not just follow her blindly into battle against him. His name was too well known as was as his lack of compassion.
Part of her wanted to riot against Lord Jameston, to cause a revolt in Lugwallow. A demonstration so boisterous that the surrounding boroughs would have to sit up and take notice. Another part of her wanted to petition someone greater than she to side with them, someone who would see their plight and take up their cause. Then there was the small nagging voice in the back of her head, the one that in some respects believed what Lady Judith had said about Lord Jameston having Wylie sent to prison, or worse.
She finally came to the conclusion that in o
rder to keep her people safe, she would have to leave. I cannot stay here. I must leave before he comes and takes what little I have left. The people of Lugwallow will have to fight of their accord, or get out, just as I am doing.
In haste, she began to clean out her father’s room.
Better to save a few of my father’s memories than to lose them all to the likes of Lord Jameston.
Hot tears threatened her eyes. What is happening to me? Where was the strong, self-assured woman who had cared for a sick and dying man for months? The one who had worked so hard to keep a roof over their heads, in spite of the fact that she was a woman. She had fed them and even found time to sew and work on gadgets that would better aid her in accomplishing her job in a more efficient manner. At the drop of a hat she was just going to pack her things and leave? She pulled her father’s meager belongings of two shirts and two pairs of trousers from his single chest of drawers.
The smell of him clung to his clothes as if he were still standing right there.
If only he were.
She desperately needed him; needed his help. Leaving Lugwallow to start a new life somewhere else, alone, was not something a woman typically did. Unless they were women of the world, or ‘fallen women,’ something Wylie would never even consider. Not even if she were completely penniless. She would lay dying on the cobbled streets, begging for crumbs before she would find herself in one of those seedy bordellos, like the ones the men in Dobbinsturn liked to frequent.
Wylie laid out a sheet on her father’s bed, placing his shirts on it. She would have to leave the beloved dresser behind, or pass it on to one of her neighbors. As she pushed each drawer back into place, in the dresser that her father himself had built when she was just a girl, she heard a solid clunk within the last drawer.
Wylie slammed the drawer shut again and once more heard the clunk against the oak. She pulled the drawer out and ran her hand around the inside. The weak light of the oil lamp barely illuminated the space, but she was able to detect nothing but smooth wood beneath her fingertips.
Dragging the drawer all the way out she flipped it over, and noticed on the lower left side, near the back, was a small perfect square of dark wood... She knew by its flawless shape that it was not just a chance knot in the wood. Someone had done it on purpose. As she passed her fingers over it, she could feel the tiniest hint of an edge. She used her fingernail to pry at it and as she did so the dark colored square slid open to reveal a small compartment. Then, something solid dropped to the floor.
She picked it up, feeling the weight and shape of it, and determined that it was a pocket watch of some sort. She made her way to her father’s bed and sat down close to the oil lamp. By the light of the lamp she discovered it was indeed a pocket watch case, heavily detailed with a gorgeous, aged bronze exterior. A dragon emblem took up the entirety of the front, and its wings opened to reveal the watch face.
Only, as it turned out, it wasn’t a watch. The dragon wings made up the front of the case, and the head stretched over the top, gripped a chain in its fanged mouth. As the wings came open, the watch face was revealed, except where there should be numbers, there were signs and symbols of stars and moons. The moons were in their different stages, in the center of it, was the metallic cut-out of a flying dragon.
On the top of the case, was a small brass knob, which looked very much like a winding stem, only when she tried to wind it, the wings of the dragon spread wide and a mechanical arm moved a small shiny cog wheel into position over the face of the device. The cog wheel had tiny holes along its rim that lined up with points on the watch face.
“It’s like a constellation!” Wylie exclaimed. She knew all about constellations as she adored studying them. However, this was unlike any constellation, she had ever seen.
She knew that the device must be of great importance, for her father had kept it hidden from her. To her knowledge, he had never hidden anything from her in her life. Why this? She knew as soon as sunlight hit her pillow in the morning, she would travel into Dobbinsturn to find a clockmaker who might tell her its origin. Until she figured out why her father had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep it hidden, she would keep it secret and tell no one how she’d acquired it. She was sure it had to be worth a considerable sum, and that was something that would be useful against Lord Jameston.
Perhaps this is nothing more than Father’s bauble of last resort. He may have intended to use it in an emergency which would explain why he kept it hidden. It will probably fetch a pretty penny, and maybe even help the people of Lugwallow. Maybe this is what would save my small parish! I could give the money to the Vicar! On second thought, would I be able to do that?
For the moment, the emotions of the day caught up with Wylie, and managed to distract her from leaving immediately. She lay back on her father’s bed, curling up on top of the clothes she’d set apart to take with her, closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
The Phoenix Lord (The Dracosinum Tales) Page 18
