honeydew with a cherry on top
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Midnight Snack
Rating: G
Challenge: Honeydew #22: midnight snack
Toppings/Extras: cherry (first person)
Wordcount: 731
Summary: Liddy Graham is kidnapped: Edward Ashdown is polite.
Notes: Biggest hangover ever. Happy not-quite-Halloween, everyone. :)
Although was the middle of the night, the room was softly lit with several oil lanterns that gave the place a rustic orange glow. The warm light sank into lavish velvet and tall portraits on the wall, the sleek polished mahogany of Ashdown’s desk and the many ornaments that decorated the place: swords on the walls and little metal boxes and chests, little glass cabinets full of intricate trinkets I could have stared at all day.
My attention, however, was focused on Ashdown himself. He was stood on the other side of the room, watching me with an odd expression on his face. Judging me, I realised. Pulling my thin blue wrap skirt tighter around my legs, I lifted my chin and glared at him. A man I recognised from Papa’s stories as Mr Prowse was leaning slightly against Ashdown’s desk, polishing a small, ivory-handled knife with a pristine square of cloth. He didn’t look at me, but I certainly looked at him and his knife, heart thumping. Ashdown noticed.
“You needn’t worry, Miss Graham,” he said in a viper-soft voice, inclining his head somewhat. “Mr Prowse would not even think about pointing a knife at a young girl. You are not dealing with animals here.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him: according to my father, Lord Ashdown and all associated with him were lying, cheating, manipulative, evil wretches that were better off dead. And there I was in their clutches. I refused to be scared, though-I knew my father would be coming for me.
“I was not worried,” I replied haughtily. Ashdown’s next expression was on the border between a sneer and a smile.
“Good,” he said, striding across the room to a dainty-legged table with clawed feet that stood before a large window looking out over Grand Bahama Town’s port. The heavy red curtains were still open, showing over several pointed rooftops the black glimmer of the ocean at night. There were small rocking lights of ships in the sea and the window was ajar, letting a light sea breeze trickle in. Ashdown walked to a silver tray and lifted the lid from it: underneath, steam rolling out from where it had been trapped, was a succulent meal: meat sponging up thick gravy, pepper dusted across carrots and broccoli. My stomach clenched in joy and longing at the sight of it. “Would you like some food, Miss Graham? I understand that it has been a long day’s travel.”
“Not from you,” I said, my body scolding me instantly for my pig-headedness. But I wanted my Papa to be proud of me, you see. I aimed a glare at Ashdown. “What is it you want from me, Ashdown?”
With a stern clang, he placed the lid back over the food.
“There is no need to be uncivil,” he said, clucking his tongue.
“Uncivil? And kidnapping me is perfectly civil, is it?” As I spoke, Mr Prowse smirked somewhat, although he tried to hide it. Ashdown merely looked put out, his lips twisting somewhat before he straightened his expression into neutral once more.
“If I had a daughter, your father would have done the same thing, I am sure,” he finally replied.
“He would not!”
“You do not know your father as I do, Miss Graham,” Ashdown said idly, moving across the room and standing at the window with his arms folded behind his ramrod-straight back. With his ridiculously glossy coat and vain wig, he looked like everything my father wasn’t. I’d always known about Papa’s feud with Lord Ashdown: I wasn’t sure where it came from, but I’d always known the two of them spent most of their lives chasing each other around the globe trying to kill each other. It seemed like a Man Thing to me, and I left it well alone. “I merely invited you up here to tell you that you will not be mistreated while in my care. After all, it is not your fault who your father is.”
Why did he have to try and be so reasonable all of the time?
“You have me locked in a cell in your garden,” I scowled at him. In response, he smiled very faintly and turned to face me.
“Well, traditions must be upheld, mustn’t they? Now, Miss Graham, will you please have something to eat? I can hear your stomach’s charming chorus from here.”