<strong>Ashburne - Amberthorne</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i284.photobucket.com/albums/ll4/ElusiveGypsyRose/1%20-%20Characters/Lady%201.jpg)<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Abigail Meghan<br/>O'Hourihane<br/>aka Meg Haney</strong></span></div></div><div class="floatleft">(http://)</div><br/>That the situation of her host and rescuer was grave was not hard to discern, even if she had not heard something of the conversation. There was tension in the air that was palpable, though of the three men, Lord Bray seemed the least tense, though Meg did not think his demeanor stemmed from any lesser investment.  Perhaps he was one of those men who simply refused to entertain the possibility of defeat, whatever challenge might present itself.<br/><br/>The simple realization came close to swelling her throat closed with emotion, but to give into it would not honor her family, but rather allow those responsible for its destruction to write its close in ignominious failure -- or worse.   Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment to cloak herself in calm, and then took the chair that Asher offered, sinking into it rather stiffly.<em>"Thank you, Captain Bray."</em><br/><br/>Though she had been given excellent care in the time that had passed, she had pushed herself well beyond the demands her body had been used to, and every muscle felt it still today, for all Sara's ministrations.   Though she had slept, her mind had settled on no set course.  Though there was no guarantee of what her father's adversary would do.    If her brother still survived ... if he, too, had fallen ... either might increase her danger, or a measure of safety.   She had only her instincts to fall back on, and her instincts led her to trust her mother's instincts.  She had been determined that Meg would survive, and it was that determination rather than her own survival, that had guided her choice.  It had led Meg to cross the path of two lords that had intervened to prevent injustice, where many would not.  It had granted her time to breathe, to recover, and hopefully she could put that time to good use.<br/><br/>However, the presence of Lord Ellery's advisor, whatever official capacity he possessed, presented an additional quandary.  While her instincts told her that she could trust both men who had come to her defense, she did not know Lord Stanton.  However, his insistence to that Lord Ellery appeal to the king for assistance had not sounded like blind faith in a mythical being who wore the crown, but rather a familiarity with the process, and suggested he might well have contacts and knowledge that might be invaluable ... could he be persuaded to employ them in her aid.<br/><br/>Yet, for all that she wanted to trust, her father's adversary was also a man of some means.  What would he offer simply to have the danger to his plans eliminated?   Enough to turn the fortunes of the Ellerys, and thus those who aligned with them, around?<br/><br/>Her eyes moved from man to man to man, settling on Graham as he spoke.  Oddly enough, the fact that he did not rush to assure her that all would be put right in her favor was a mark in his.  She had seen many an empty-headed lord, soldier, or commoner alike lose all sense when offered the opportunity to save a damsel in manufactured distress.  If he had been such a fool, in all likelihood she would be lost.<br/><br/>There was a pause between Graham's final words and her first while Meg attempted to pick a stable path from the scant possibilities laid out before her.  Her face did not hide her indecision, nor her fear -- not so much for herself as for the potential of failing.   Yet a choice must be made, and when one did not have knowledge, then one must rely upon other gifts.  One last time, she glanced at each man in turn, and then nodded her head.<br/><br/><em>"The men who pursued me, my lord Ellery, served no lord of my family.  My father's allegiance belonged to the king and the king alone, though mistakes of his youth had seen him dismissed from court.  His name is Albert O'Hourihane, and though he had fallen from the king's favor, there are none who would call him thief, nor his children ... though I have heard that my brother once spent a month as a stable hand after stealing a pie from the window sill of a neighbor as it cooled when caught with the stain of its berries upon his shirt and lips."</em><br/><br/>Meg gave a small smile at the remembrance, though the recent events were still too raw to allow much humor.<br/><br/><em>"Some months ago, my father learned that a former contemporary was engaged in what my mother called 'questionable activities'.  He, believing my father's situation had made him bitter toward the throne, drew my father into his confidence, and my father thought to discover more in the hope that, should what he learned prove to be valuable, it would allow him ... us ... a return to court.   Unfortunately, things did not go as he had planned.  We received word of my father's murder, and warning of the danger, with little time to prepare.  I am afraid there is little that I can offer as proof of my words, save for the good word of those who knew us.  My father's name is Albert O'Hourihane, my given name is Abigail, though Meghan is my second name, in honor of my mother's mother, late of Carsley."</em><br/><br/>She had considered dissembling, but that seemed poor thanks for their rescue, and she had learned from experience that truth served better than any lie.  It was her father's lies that had, ultimately, been his downfall, however pure his motives.  Had he simply gone with what he knew to those equipped with more than heart and hope, perhaps he would live still -- with less gratitude, perhaps, but how much use was gratitude to the dead?<br/><br/>Meg's eyes stung, but she blinked it way.  Tears would serve no purpose here and now, save to weaken.