<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/>And so it was decided, at least for the moment. The situation was not ideal, not for Lord Ellery and his household, and not for Meg herself, but it was a good deal better than it so easily could have been.  After the audience was concluded, Meg was drawn aside to provide as much information to help with Asher's inquiries as she could.  It did not help that she had not seen her brother in more than three years, though she did have a couple of letters in her stash of documents, the last ones that he had sent.  Both included a personal note to Meg that had not been read aloud upon receipt as the rest of the correspondence had, and the oldest of the two she held back for a long moment of hesitation before sighing and handing them over for his perusal.<br/><br/><em>"I also have a sister, Therese, whom Col ... Collen ... speaks of in brief in the letter, but I would not recommend any inquiries in that direction, Captain Bray.   She is the child of my father's first wife, and is considerably older than my brother and myself.  When my father was dismissed from court and stripped of his titles save for the most modest that came to him as my grandfather's heir, she was already betrothed.  Had she not severed her ties with our family, her affianced would have broken their engagement.  Her husband's family is ... very conscious of their reputation, and she was ... and is ... very bitter."</em><br/><br/>What her words did not say, her expression and the chill and unexpressed anger in her features said for her.  There was no sisterly love between the two, no wish that things had been different, but rather a deep-seated coldness and anger.<em> "She would be more likely to aid those hunting me than offer aid, especially if it means bring old scandals to light again."<br/></em><br/>Of her brother, Meg's description was practical.  She took after her mother, while Collen favored her father -- blonde hair that tended more to brown than gold, referred to by Collen humorously as the color of moldy hay, straight and thick.  He had worn it long when last she had seen him, and had sported a short, well-trimmed beard that was brown in truth.  The affection between them was apparent in the letters, as was the reason for her reluctance - her brother's concern over an ill-conceived affaire de cœur with a soldier was spoken of with sympathy, but also some degree of exasperation over Meg's mule-headedness.  Her brother had expressed his relief, shared ... coincidentally ... by Meg that their dalliance had not resulted in long-term consequences.<br/><br/>She did not blush nor drop her eyes as he read the letter, but also she did not offer any other details.  Doubtless, Lord Ellery's excellent retainer would find no lack of details if he made the correct inquiries, but the soldier was long gone and unmourned, if not precisely regretted.<br/><br/>As soon as she was able, Meg made her escape, not to solitude but rather the kitchen, where she made a nuisance of herself until her help was accepted, and little by little the fact that she did know her way around the kitchen and other household chores relaxed the tension, thus giving her something to do besides worry and grieve.<br/><br/>There was enough of both in the days that followed, and Meg did her best not to further burden the household.  She was grateful for the refuge, and the time to mourn and heal.  The disposition of her mother's carriage was not discovered, though there was sufficient evidence to make it all but certain that the carriage an those within had been disposed of in some deep pool or mire.  It did not matter; that her mother was dead, she knew, and that she would not have been abandoned Meg also knew.  It would have made her feel no better to have her mother interred in some stone tomb or buried under tended earth, and such things would not have mattered to her mother, who had been one of the most practical minded women she had ever met, for all her love of all things artistic.<br/><br/>Yet she was a guest, and one who had caused much upset and the allocation of time, energy and funds perhaps better spent, in the mind of the household, upon matters more directly of concern.  It was a precarious sort of feeling that Meg did not enjoy, for all her gratitude.  To be a burden, even if it were not said or even intimated at in any way, was not something she wished to do, but her comfort was less important than both survival and the hope that those who had murdered her parents be brought to justice.<br/><br/>The evening was cool, thankfully, and Meg had retired early, more to simply be spared the necessity of making, or requiring, polite conversation.  Lord Ellery had graciously permitted her the reading of anything found in the small library that took her fancy, and she had been given other means of entertaining herself -- watercolors, mending, and needlework -- but such pursuits worked the body too little and the mind too much.  It was late when she slipped on her wrap and quietly left her room, slippered feet making little sound upon the stairs as she headed for the side door that would bring her into the small garden.<br/><br/>The moon was not full, and the light mist that formed with the cooling of the moisture-rich air provided a silvery glow that made it easy for her to find her way to the crab-apple tree that had become her refuge.  It had branches that were the perfect height, the perfect thickness, for climbing, and the activity ... as well as the slight rebellion implicit in te act ... brought a measure of solace.  She was not thinking of her borrowed gown as she pulled herself up to the first branch, and then took hold of another, aided by a foot upon a smaller branch, as she clambered, though the faint rip of fabric caused her some modicum of guilt.  At the same time, she consoled herself that she could repair the ripped seam, and carefully worked her way up to the spot that made an ideal seat, offering a good view and privacy in the darkening leaves.<br/><br/>She had climbed to that perch several times before, but always in the daytime.  It was an easy enough climb that the darkness, or even the wet of the dew, did not concern her overly, but she had not taken into account that the vantage point also offered a rather good view, as she leaned back against the trunk and looked up, of a lit room whose window was open, and the curtains had been parted by the blessedly cool breeze.<br/><br/><br/>Still, she thought nothing of it when she spied Lord Ellery and Captain Bray facing one another,  engaged in what appeared to be a spirited conversation, though she could near nothing of what they said other than the cadence of words.  They were, she had assumed, friends as well as lord and manservant.  Most times, she would simply have shifted her position or sought another seat, but instead she only closed her eyes for a moment.  When she opened them, the two men were in motion, closing the distance between themselves.  Meg's eyes widened, wondering what disagreement had prompted some physical altercation -- she was, after all, not completely ignorant of the more physical tendencies of men when dealing with one another.  Yet as they collided, arms reaching, heads tilting and turning not for battle but rather to engage in what was an unmistakable passionate kiss ...<br/><br/>Meg's foot slipped upon the bark, and she gasped, looking away as she rearranged her thinking.   She had heard of men who chose other men for their lovers ... women as well ... but she had not thought, not suspected ...<br/><br/>Despite herself, and what both politeness and respect owed to her host, and her rescuers, Meg's head turned, and she looked again.   There was no mistaking their embrace, or the passion behind it.  It seemed that Lord Ellery was being divested of his shirt, and Captain Asher's might likely need new buttons upon its laundering.   A soft giggle escaped Meg's lips, causing her to clap her hand over her mouth, as she avidly stared another moment as the two men alternated between passion and tenderness.  She knew she should look away, knew it, but could not.  She was not shocked, not precisely, but ... oh, that damnable curiosity that so often got her in trouble.  Yet it was not only curiosity, she knew in her heart of hearts, as she felt her own breath quicken, became aware of how the wind caressed her skin, brought a chill to the thin fabric covering her body, making it long for the heated press of another's skin ...<br/><br/>Meg's eyes, and mouth, closed with a determined snap.  What courtesy, what decency demanded, was that she quietly retreat and return to her room, and seek this place only in the daylight ... yet her eyes opened yet again, peering through her lashes as she witnessed ...<br/><br/>And then a sound, a movement, from the ground attracted her attention.  Meg froze, a blush finally coming to her cheeks as she contemplated a scolding, perhaps a yell of 'Miss Meg, what are you doing up there?  Come down before you hurt yourself' delivered in a loud tone ... one that might attract the attention of the lovers above and reveal her spying ...<br/><br/>For spying it had become, even if it had not been her intent as she clambered up the tree.<br/><br/>All the more unsettling, even, than what she had seen was the fact that she was almost bitterly disappointed by the interruption.