<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/>While listening to a conversation that was not meant for her would have been deemed the height of bad manners by her mother, Meg had fewer compunctions.  That she did not move to press her ear against the wall or the door had more to do with pragmatism about burning bridges for too little gain than any worry about protocol.  Still, the occasional word confirmed much of what she had already ascertained, having deflected many of Sara's questions with her own and making good use of the trait of young maids to want to talk -- particularly to one close in age whose station was questionable and manner was approachable.<br/><br/>The Ellery household was in financial difficulties, and Meg knew only too well the kind of strain that put on a household, and its lady and lord.  Graham Ellery was not married -- so Sara had revealed -- and was apparently not looking to improve his fortunes the time honored way.  That left a much narrower field, or so what she had learned from her family's own situation as her father tried to recapture what had been lost.<br/><br/>Her own intelligence, what she could hear as she admired the paintings on the wall, the furnishings, and the view from the window, and what she had discovered was enough that she could easily grasp the gist of the situation.  Now, all that was left was how it affected her, and how it could be put to use.  Such thinking was cold, she knew, but perhaps what could help her could help this household as well -- but first, she must decide if it was worth squandering her meager resources.<br/><br/>Yet even as she thought of practicalities, Meg could not help but remember how quickly both he and his manservant ... and friend, by the look of things ... had stepped in to save her, when their own situation likely wanted prudence, and no costly trouble that might bring the ire of a foe of unknown resources.<br/><br/>Meg was dressed in a hurriedly altered day dress that Sara had provided.  It was a generation or more out of date in fashion, smelling faintly of sweet herbs that had been folded into it in whatever trunk had been its resting place.  The color was not one she would have chosen, but the daffodil yellow flattered her hair and complexion, making her look as if she had climbed out of the pit rather than was still struggling on its slope.  Her hair was freshly washed, and brushed until it shone before being braided in an attractive style, her best feature certainly at the moment.  Her eyes were steady and determined, with only the bruises beneath them and the faint red cast to the whites to show that she had wept when she was finally left alone.<br/><br/>But weeping was done, at least until she was again alone.  She would not let her mother's, or that of those who had been loyal to her family's, sacrifice be made in vain.<br/><br/>When the elder man exited the room, Meg turned, but did not waste a smile.  The elder's expression told well that he was not in any mood to have the courtesies of strangers forced upon him, though she did incline her head in a gesture of respect that marked her as one who was used to having retainers rather than being in service herself.  She got a quick glimpse of Asher as the door was open, something that reassured her somewhat and lent her courage as she contemplated the wisdom of throwing in her lot with the two men who were, undoubtedly, the reason she still lived ... or at least were in the company of honorable men rather than those who would use her for her own designs.<br/><br/>Of that she was certain, and it was that fact that gave her some hope that she might have something to offer them, even as it furthered her own need.<br/><br/>When the moment presented itself, she made her presence known formally, squaring her shoulders as she took a deep breath and made ready to throw herself once more into the grasp of fickle fortune with little more than hope, and a wing and a prayer.