Midnight Capers

by Rebecca King

It was difficult to know what to do. Pheony knew she should rush to the private parlour to find out what Augusta wanted, if only to stop her shrieking and upsetting the tavern’s other patrons again, but something within Pheony rebelled against it. If Augusta wanted to make a show of herself then that was up to her. Pheony refused to be humiliated by her guardian anymore. Consequently, when she left the tap room, she didn’t hurry to see what Augusta wanted but made her way to the front door instead.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Carlotta gasped just as Pheony was about to leave. Carlotta glanced hesitantly back at the private parlour as if expecting Sophie or Francis to appear at any moment. It was evident from her furtiveness of her movements that she was worried about being caught talking to Pheony. “Augusta is going to lose her temper if she finds you outside. You had better go and see her. She is in a terrible temper because you didn’t sort her a better room out.”

  “How am I supposed to sort her a better room? It isn’t my fault the inn isn’t big enough for her,” Pheony gasped. “Why should I get the blame for the tavern not being able to provide Augusta with the facilities she demands? The inn keeper has already told her that he cannot offer her anywhere else. We can’t move because the carriage is damaged. I suppose I am going to get the blame for that as well, am I? Do you know something? It makes me wonder who Augusta would blame if I was not around.”

  “Me, probably,” Carlotta muttered with a rueful grimace. “She wants you to fetch her a few things out of her bed chamber. You had better hurry, or she will be in a frightful temper all evening.”

  Pheony refused to budge. She folded her arms and glared at Carlotta. “Why don’t you go and fetch them?” She lifted a brow and watched Carlotta look blankly at her, as if she had never heard anything so outrageous in her life. “You are her daughter. You go and fetch it.”

  “But-”

  “But nothing, Carlotta. You are her daughter. If your mother wants something doing, go and do it for her.”

  “Why, you ungrateful wretch,” Carlotta snapped, outraged at being so pertly reminded of her duty to her parent.

  “When your mother agreed to take on my guardianship, at no point did the solicitor agree that your mother could use me as an unpaid maid. In fact, I do believe that Augusta is being paid handsomely from my trust to provide for and look after me,” Pheony snapped, wishing she was already five and twenty so that she could get her hands on whatever was left of the trust fund her father had left her. However, she had at least two years to go yet, and Augusta clearly intended to make the most of them.

  And it is going to be an exceptionally long two years at that.

  Carlotta pointed to the private parlour. “You get back there and go and see what she wants.”

  “You know what she wants.” Pheony looked coldly at Carlotta. “If you had just gone and fetched her things yourself you would be back in the parlour by now and she wouldn’t be getting so annoyed. Why are you pestering me to do something you are perfectly capable of doing yourself?”

  “Because I-I am not you. That is what you are here for.”

  “No, I am here because Augusta thought she could use my trust fund to provide for her while having an unpaid maid in the house,” Pheony drawled. “But I am no longer nineteen, Carlotta.”

  “So go then,” Carlotta snapped, pointing to the front door.

  “It would serve you right if I did,” Pheony retorted. She immediately wished she hadn’t said anything when she saw the suspicious look in Carlotta’s eyes. The last thing she wanted was to even hint at what she had planned because Pheony knew that she wouldn’t be able to breathe without being watched or, worse, Augusta would lock her in her room again like she did the last time Pheony had tried to escape.

  Escape. Escape. Who should feel the need to escape their guardian?

  But Pheony did. She had to escape, for her own sanity if nothing else. She had to get away from the draconian spite of her guardian and her waspish daughters. Between the four of them, they all pulled at her, sniped at her, demanded her attention, and her servitude while scorning her, scolding her, and treating her like she was beneath them all. They all felt able to criticise her whenever they chose. They all felt able to tell her what to do with her life, how she should act, what she should say, where she should go and when while they all lived off the money that she brought into the house.

  Face it, I have no more freedom than a slave, but I am not paid. I pay them to live like this.

  Unfortunately, the last time that Pheony had tried to speak to the solicitor about it, she had met with dispassionate disinterest. The solicitor had abruptly informed her that it had been her father’s wish that Augusta be her guardian, and if Augusta demanded that Pheony remained in her house then that is what had to happen. Besides, the solicitor had said, it would build character if she learnt to run a house. While Pheony wasn’t required to cook for the spiteful family, or clean up after them, she was nothing more than an errand girl, and a whipping post if any of the women felt particularly spiteful or wanted someone to bully.

  And there is no way out, Pheony thought as she gazed at the busy road through the open door just a few feet away.

  She longed to be out there while at the same time the very thought of it filled her with terror mostly because she had no way of surviving by herself. With nothing more than a few coins in her pocket, she had no hope of being able to put a roof over her head or food in her stomach. Given that she wasn’t anywhere near home, she couldn’t take most of her personal possessions with her either. They were still back at Augusta’s house. It galled Pheony to have to leave them behind, but there really was no choice.

  “What do you have planned?” Carlotta demanded, squinting suspiciously at her.

  “Nothing,” Pheony snapped dismissively. “I can’t do anything, have a voice, or have a life apparently. I have nothing and can go nowhere.” Suddenly, as if something had just snapped within her, Pheony allowed Carlotta to see the full force of her fury. “Now, she is your mother, your flesh and blood, Carlotta. Rather than come and try to me to bully me into running around after your mother, I suggest you go and fetch what she wants.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that?” Carlotta snarled, showing Pheony all the meanness that ran through her soul.

  Pheony refused to fear her. She knew that if she allowed Carlotta to treat her like this any longer, especially when Augusta was not around to learn of it, Carlotta would be insufferable. Consequently, no matter how sick it made her feel, Pheony stood her ground and hissed: “Oh, I dare, Carlotta, or I am going to tell your mother about you sneaking off to meet with Patrick Galman in the village the other night. I saw you, and so did Bert, so don’t even think about trying to deny it,” Pheony growled.

  Carlotta blinked at her in shock. “You wouldn’t,” she breathed. With a blink, and a sniff, Carlotta squared her shoulders. When she spoke, her tone was casual as she said: “She wouldn’t believe you anyway,” as if certain of the fact.

  “Really? Are you sure about that?” Pheony crossed her arms and lifted a brow at her guardian’s eldest daughter.

  “God, I hate you,” Carlotta hissed. “I wish you were dead.”

  Inwardly, Pheony flinched at the malicious jibe. Outwardly, she didn’t bat an eye, or even look at the patrons who were just entering the tavern. One gasped at the malice behind the declaration.

  “Are you all right, miss?” the young man asked.

  “Yes, I am all right, thank you,” Carlotta murmured to which the young man gave her a pointed glare.

  “I wasn’t asking you,” he snorted before lifting a brow at Pheony. “Miss?”

  Pheony nodded but glared at Carlotta, who was now looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I am fine, thank you.”

  Once the man had gone, Pheony turned her back on Carlotta and made her way to the stairs.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Carlotta demanded as if she had every right to ask.

  “I am going to bed. D
o I have your permission to? I am sorry, tell me, at what point did I become a prisoner?” Pheony demanded loudly and with more than a little sarcasm. “At what point did I commit any crime that gave you the right to pretend that you are a gaoler, and I am some sort of servant or prisoner you can confine?”

  Carlotta’s cheeks flooded with colour when she realised that several patrons sitting near the doorway of the busy tap room were listening intently to what was being said.

  “If your mother wants something, you go and fetch it,” Pheony informed Carlotta coldly.

  “You are sharing a room with me tonight.” It was clear from the look on her face that Carlotta was horrified by it.

  “I should have known that Augusta would be too tight to buy rooms for all of us,” Pheony snorted contemptuously. “Which one?”

  “What?” Carlotta looked puzzled.

  “Which room is ours?” She waited for Carlotta to refuse to tell her.

  “Number four, at the top of the stairs.”

  Pheony bowed mockingly. “With your permission, of course, I would like to go to bed, if that is all right with you, miss?” Pheony didn’t wait for Carlotta to speak but issued her with a dark look before climbing the stairs.

  “You will pay for this,” Carlotta hissed after her. “How dare you embarrass me like that?”

  “I didn’t embarrass you, Carlotta,” Pheony drawled. “You embarrassed yourself by being so arrogant. Be careful, dear, you are starting to behave like your mother.”

  She threw a snide look over her shoulder because she knew that for Carlotta, that was the biggest insult of them all. Augusta was belligerent, arrogant, and made no qualms about being cruel and spiteful if anybody was bold enough to try to cross her or warn her about her crude behaviour. She ruled her house with an indominable will that was unfair, cold, callous, and outright nasty at times. To make matters worse, she had no qualms about lying about Pheony whenever people questioned Augusta about why Pheony was treated differently to her daughters. Pheony was sick of them all. She was sick of her life.

  If I am to have no life of my own, then I have nothing to lose by standing my ground against them and making them stop thinking they can control my every movement.

  “Pheony!”

  Carlotta smirked and folded her arms. “She is calling you.”

  “I am not going,” Pheony called, continuing to climb the stairs slowly and steadily. She didn’t care if Augusta continued to shriek for the rest of the evening, Pheony wasn’t going to race around after her anymore.

  Once in her bed chamber, Pheony contemplated what to do. She wasn’t going to be allowed to stay in the room. Augusta was going to be livid that she hadn’t appeared the instant she had been summoned and would either send one of her daughters to drag her down to the parlour or would come up herself to find out why Pheony was being so wilful.

  “I have to find somewhere to hide and wait for them to go to bed. Then, I have to make sure I get out of here before dawn.” It helped that they were due to leave tomorrow morning, and there was no need to unpack their bags.

  Pheony rummaged around in her bag until she found what she needed to wear for her disguise. She left everything at the top of her bag where it was easy to reach. She then positioned the bag beside the bed, right next to her for when she needed it. Pheony then took a moment to study the yard beneath the window and tried to decide how she was going to get out of the building when the time came. The more she began to plan, the more Pheony realised that she had a lot of decisions to make. It wasn’t just about how to get out of the building. She had to think about where she was going to hide once she was outside, for how long, and where she was going to go when she had secured her freedom.

  Otherwise, I am going to get caught dawdling and trying to make my mind up.

  When she felt her indecision weighing her down, Pheony decided that it was best to try to get some sleep. But, once she was settled in bed, she realised that her thoughts went no further than the handsome investigator with the Star Elite who was probably still propping up the bar downstairs. Not only did she wonder why the Star Elite were in this somewhat nondescript little travelling inn in the middle of nowhere, but Pheony began to wonder why he, a veritable stranger, had captured her interest so firmly. Could he help her? Should she approach him? If so, how could she ask for him to help her escape the clutches of her abusive guardian without having him laugh at her and return her to Augusta just to be rid of her petty problems?

  “Problems?” Dean muttered when he saw Hamish slide another cautious look around the busy tap room.

  “There was a young woman watching us,” Hamish whispered.

  “Do you recognise her?”

  Hamish slowly shook his head.

  “Who she was looking at? Was she a patron, or a doxy?”

  “We don’t have any doxies in this establishment,” the inn keeper snapped, scowling darkly at Dean as if offended.

  “Who are the newcomers? Besides us, of course,” Hamish asked before the man could leave.

  The inn keeper rolled his eyes. “That old harridan who keeps shrieking ‘Pheony’ every five minutes, and her brats.”

  “Do you have a Pheony?” Hamish murmured, finding it funny thanks to numerous tankards of ale.

  The inn keeper grinned at them and playfully ducked down to peer under the bar. “Ah, no, not on me. She is probably hiding upstairs somewhere.”

  “It was probably that timid looking thing I saw standing in the corner of the room just now,” Hamish drawled, unsurprised to find the space now empty.

  The inn keeper had a twinkle in his eye when he nodded. They all cursed when another ‘Pheony’ rippled through the building.

  “I am going to bloody warn her she is going to get thrown out if she keeps that up,” the inn keeper growled, pushing away from the bar.

  “Who in the Devil’s name is that?” one of his regulars called. “Go and tell her to shut up, Ralph. What in the Hell’s wrong with her?”

  “She is demanding one of her daughters,” another customer said.

  “I don’t think that’s one of her daughters,” Dean muttered. “Not if Pheony is the one I am thinking about. There are three young women with that hag who all look strikingly like their mother. However, the fourth is nothing like them.”

  “Aye, that’s Pheony,” the inn keeper replied. “God only knows what she is doing with them. If I were their servant I would bloody quit and go and work on a farm.”

  Hamish grinned. “A farm?”

  “Cattle,” the inn keeper muttered with a rueful look. “If you are going to work with bloody bleating cows you may as well be a farmer.”

  With Hamish and Dean laughing, the inn keeper sauntered off to go and speak to the mouthpiece in his private parlour. With as much disruption as she was causing, he really didn’t care if she left.

  “You noticed her then,” Hamish drawled conversationally once the inn keeper had gone.

  Dean slid a look at him but didn’t speak. He took a long sip of his ale and stared down into his tankard for a few moments.

  “What was it that struck you about her first?”

  “That she doesn’t seem to fit in with them, but she cannot be a maid because she was travelling inside the carriage with them. Besides, she is too well dressed if a little outdated and shabby. She is timid too, while the others are brash, coquettish, and arrogantly spiteful.”

  “They scream of trouble,” Hamish sighed, a little relieved that they were only staying at the tavern for one night.

  “I don’t care what kind of trouble they cause. It isn’t mine to sort out. I am just here for the ale.” Dean removed his gun and placed it onto the counter beside his tankard. “Although, I may have to use it if she doesn’t stop screeching for Pheony.”

  Hamish grinned but didn’t argue or ask who Dean intended to shoot. As far as he was concerned, so long as the woman in the private parlour kept her voice down there was no need for him to get involved either.

&nb
sp; CHAPTER THREE

  Pheony waited. She waited, waited, and then waited some more. Eventually, Carlotta slammed into the room sometime after ten o’clock. Oblivious to the occupants of the rooms on either side of them, she proceeded to make as much noise as possible while she prepared for bed. Pheony refused to move and continued to pretend that she was asleep because she suspected Carlotta that was trying to wake her up and upset her. While Carlotta hadn’t come to find her after she had left her at the bottom of the stairs, Pheony knew that Carlotta could bear grudges and wouldn’t forgive her for standing her ground and arguing with her like she had.

  It seemed to take an age before Carlotta settled down, stopped tossing and turning, and eventually began to snore quietly. Only then did Pheony ease slowly out of bed. She froze when Carlotta snuffled and snorted and flopped over. When she had settled back down, Pheony tugged the covers high on the bed so that Carlotta wouldn’t feel the chill in the room, and then picked up her bag. She crept out of the room on tiptoes with her heart pounding and her knees shaking. She was amazed that an escape was really going to be this easy.

  “Good night,” a jovial man called as he staggered past her in search of his bed chamber.

  Pheony, who still held the bed chamber door half-open, mentally winced but bravely squared her shoulders and called a soft ‘goodnight’ before easing the door closed. She waited for a moment and listened intently for sounds of movement coming from inside the room. When nothing happened, Pheony heaved a sigh of relief and hurried downstairs.

  “Damn,” she whispered when she reached the bottom of the main flight of stairs and heard Augusta’s booming voice emanating from the parlour. It was clear from the petulant tone of her voice that she was moaning to Francis about something else that didn’t suit her. The faint murmur of a reply warned Pheony that it was likely that both Francis and Sophie were still awake as well.

  “Damn it.” Before she could decide what to do, Pheony sensed movement on the stairs above her. One glance was all it took to instil real fear in her. In desperation, Pheony instinctively looked around for a place to hide from Carlotta who was now descending the stairs. With nowhere else to go, Pheony was forced to race for the tavern’s kitchens at the back of the building, through the door she had seen the maids use when they had been taking trays of food to the tavern’s patrons earlier.