cookies 'n' cream and rocky road
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Helping Hands
Rating: G
Challenge: Rocky Road #14: on the road, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #29: shake
Toppings/Extras: none
Wordcount: 1,102
Summary: In the dead of night, Anne Bartlett receives help from an inexplicable source.
Notes: So, this is totally random.
Well, this certainly is awkward, Edward Ashdown thought, fixing his gaze on the curtains and wishing that they were open so that he would at least have something to look at. It was the middle of the night and his private carriage trundled through the black London streets with a clatter; the horses shook out their manes as they went and the wheels struck against puddles and slurried them through the cobbles.
Opposite to the nineteen-year-old was a girl even younger at seventeen, shivering uncontrollably with her gaze fixed on her knuckles, which lay clenched on her lap. Her mist-grey dress was raggedly torn and there was a small smattering of blood travelling from one of her shoulders across the front of her bodice. Edward knew that it wasn’t her blood.
Her name was Anne Bartlett and her eyes were rimmed with red. When he reminded himself that she was the same age as his sister would be had she not died the previous year, Edward sighed inwardly.
“There is a blanket beneath your seat, Miss Bartlett,” he said into the fraught silence. Her eyes flicked up at him, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, and then she quickly reached down and pulled the warming, slippery sheet of fur out from beneath the seat and wrapped it around her shoulders quickly. It engulfed her easily.
“Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice. “Not just for that, I mean… everything.”
Edward shrugged.
“It was Mr Prowse’s fault,” he said, before reflecting on his choice of words. “Or rather, decision.”
Anne glanced up at him again, smiled weakly and then went back to staring at the floor. London high society was entwined in every direction and Edward had known Anne since their youth. They had never been particularly close-even as a child Edward had been hard to get along with, and his natural disdain for others as a teenager was not appreciated. He didn’t like how they all clustered together and laughed at him. Anne was one of the many girls who seemed to find him odd and intimidating, and the two had never had much contact as a result.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they arrived at Anne’s family residence. As the carriage crunched to a halt on the gravelled drive, they heard Prowse’s footsteps and after a moment the door was opened by the faithful aide. There was a trail of blood across his front, considerably larger than the one on Anne’s dress, and one of his hands and most of that sleeve was drenched in the stuff.
He hesitated and then held up his opposite hand to help Anne down from the carriage. She gave him a slightly warmer smile, the curls falling limply from her mouse-brown hair. When she made to take the blanket from her shoulders, Edward waved a hand at her easily.
“Keep it,” he said, voice tight and curt, before gracefully sliding out of the carriage after her. Prowse closed the door quietly and strode towards the house ahead of them. Edward fixed his pale blue eyes on the girl next to him. “Is there anybody awake?”
“One of the maids… Joan Hartford,” she muttered, sounding ashamed. “I asked her to stay up for me. She’ll be by the servant’s entrance.” She cleared her throat. “Er, Master-… Mr Ashdown, what I was doing out in the city…”
“It is no concern of mine,” Edward replied stonily, and as they arrived at the servant’s entrance he nodded for Prowse to knock on the door. His managed only one rap before it was thrown open by an anxious-looking maid. Her eyes widened as she saw the unexpected visitors, and then she squeaked at the blood she saw.
“Miss Bartlett!” she uttered. “What happened-?”
“She was out in the city and ran into some trouble,” Edward said, voice devoid of emotion or disapproval. “Mr Prowse saw fit to intervene and discovered it to be someone we knew. Bringing her home was the least we could do.”
“Oh, Annie-!”
“Thank you,” Anne said, turning away from her maid and gazing at them through the darkness for a long moment.
“You are welcome,” Edward said, clipped as ever. “Good evening, Miss Bartlett. Or rather, good morning.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond, instead striding away back towards where his carriage was, Prowse following behind after a quick bow. Once he had let the driver know that they were now returning home, Edward stepped into the carriage. When Prowse went to take his usual place on the footplate at the back, Edward cleared his throat.
“You may ride inside for the journey home, Mr Prowse,” he said.
His aide seemed apprehensive as he stepped into the cushy interior, taking a seat opposite to him and closing the door. Almost instantly, the carriage began to move. Edward regarded Prowse for a moment.
“Well, that was bothersome,” he said eventually. “God only knows what will be drawn from that little encounter.”
Prowse looked up from the blood on his hands.
“Are you saying I shouldn’t have helped her, sir? He was going to-…”
“Of course that isn’t what I’m saying,” Edward replied, wrinkling his nose. “Not that I could have stopped you, in any case. Your desire to dive in and rescue absolute strangers is near-pathological.” He tapped his fingers on the carriage seat idly. “No, it is merely an annoyance. I cannot offer her any reason for driving around London in the middle of the night… I expect she’ll assume I was visiting the local brothels.”
The very thought made Prowse choke, though he managed to turn it into a mild cough.
“I doubt it, sir,” he replied innocently.
Edward arched an eyebrow at him and continued-
“There is also the fact, Mr Prowse, that she saw a man who is supposed to be my clerical assistant stab a man violently in the neck. The connotations to that are quite unfortunate, I fear.”
“Lots of men are trained to fight, sir,” Prowse said.
“Hmm. Not quite in the same way you are, Mr Prowse, but I’m sure she will give us the benefit of the doubt.” Edward finally settled back against the seat-it wasn’t often that Prowse saw his master in any state of relaxation, and he was a little unsettled by it. After a moment, the teenager pulled an immaculate white handkerchief from a front pocket and tossed it to him by two fingers. “Get some of that blood off of your hands. You’ll give the poor housemaids a fright.”
Raising his eyebrows, Prowse did so in silence.
Title: Helping Hands
Rating: G
Challenge: Rocky Road #14: on the road, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #29: shake
Toppings/Extras: none
Wordcount: 1,102
Summary: In the dead of night, Anne Bartlett receives help from an inexplicable source.
Notes: So, this is totally random.
Well, this certainly is awkward, Edward Ashdown thought, fixing his gaze on the curtains and wishing that they were open so that he would at least have something to look at. It was the middle of the night and his private carriage trundled through the black London streets with a clatter; the horses shook out their manes as they went and the wheels struck against puddles and slurried them through the cobbles.
Opposite to the nineteen-year-old was a girl even younger at seventeen, shivering uncontrollably with her gaze fixed on her knuckles, which lay clenched on her lap. Her mist-grey dress was raggedly torn and there was a small smattering of blood travelling from one of her shoulders across the front of her bodice. Edward knew that it wasn’t her blood.
Her name was Anne Bartlett and her eyes were rimmed with red. When he reminded himself that she was the same age as his sister would be had she not died the previous year, Edward sighed inwardly.
“There is a blanket beneath your seat, Miss Bartlett,” he said into the fraught silence. Her eyes flicked up at him, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, and then she quickly reached down and pulled the warming, slippery sheet of fur out from beneath the seat and wrapped it around her shoulders quickly. It engulfed her easily.
“Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice. “Not just for that, I mean… everything.”
Edward shrugged.
“It was Mr Prowse’s fault,” he said, before reflecting on his choice of words. “Or rather, decision.”
Anne glanced up at him again, smiled weakly and then went back to staring at the floor. London high society was entwined in every direction and Edward had known Anne since their youth. They had never been particularly close-even as a child Edward had been hard to get along with, and his natural disdain for others as a teenager was not appreciated. He didn’t like how they all clustered together and laughed at him. Anne was one of the many girls who seemed to find him odd and intimidating, and the two had never had much contact as a result.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they arrived at Anne’s family residence. As the carriage crunched to a halt on the gravelled drive, they heard Prowse’s footsteps and after a moment the door was opened by the faithful aide. There was a trail of blood across his front, considerably larger than the one on Anne’s dress, and one of his hands and most of that sleeve was drenched in the stuff.
He hesitated and then held up his opposite hand to help Anne down from the carriage. She gave him a slightly warmer smile, the curls falling limply from her mouse-brown hair. When she made to take the blanket from her shoulders, Edward waved a hand at her easily.
“Keep it,” he said, voice tight and curt, before gracefully sliding out of the carriage after her. Prowse closed the door quietly and strode towards the house ahead of them. Edward fixed his pale blue eyes on the girl next to him. “Is there anybody awake?”
“One of the maids… Joan Hartford,” she muttered, sounding ashamed. “I asked her to stay up for me. She’ll be by the servant’s entrance.” She cleared her throat. “Er, Master-… Mr Ashdown, what I was doing out in the city…”
“It is no concern of mine,” Edward replied stonily, and as they arrived at the servant’s entrance he nodded for Prowse to knock on the door. His managed only one rap before it was thrown open by an anxious-looking maid. Her eyes widened as she saw the unexpected visitors, and then she squeaked at the blood she saw.
“Miss Bartlett!” she uttered. “What happened-?”
“She was out in the city and ran into some trouble,” Edward said, voice devoid of emotion or disapproval. “Mr Prowse saw fit to intervene and discovered it to be someone we knew. Bringing her home was the least we could do.”
“Oh, Annie-!”
“Thank you,” Anne said, turning away from her maid and gazing at them through the darkness for a long moment.
“You are welcome,” Edward said, clipped as ever. “Good evening, Miss Bartlett. Or rather, good morning.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond, instead striding away back towards where his carriage was, Prowse following behind after a quick bow. Once he had let the driver know that they were now returning home, Edward stepped into the carriage. When Prowse went to take his usual place on the footplate at the back, Edward cleared his throat.
“You may ride inside for the journey home, Mr Prowse,” he said.
His aide seemed apprehensive as he stepped into the cushy interior, taking a seat opposite to him and closing the door. Almost instantly, the carriage began to move. Edward regarded Prowse for a moment.
“Well, that was bothersome,” he said eventually. “God only knows what will be drawn from that little encounter.”
Prowse looked up from the blood on his hands.
“Are you saying I shouldn’t have helped her, sir? He was going to-…”
“Of course that isn’t what I’m saying,” Edward replied, wrinkling his nose. “Not that I could have stopped you, in any case. Your desire to dive in and rescue absolute strangers is near-pathological.” He tapped his fingers on the carriage seat idly. “No, it is merely an annoyance. I cannot offer her any reason for driving around London in the middle of the night… I expect she’ll assume I was visiting the local brothels.”
The very thought made Prowse choke, though he managed to turn it into a mild cough.
“I doubt it, sir,” he replied innocently.
Edward arched an eyebrow at him and continued-
“There is also the fact, Mr Prowse, that she saw a man who is supposed to be my clerical assistant stab a man violently in the neck. The connotations to that are quite unfortunate, I fear.”
“Lots of men are trained to fight, sir,” Prowse said.
“Hmm. Not quite in the same way you are, Mr Prowse, but I’m sure she will give us the benefit of the doubt.” Edward finally settled back against the seat-it wasn’t often that Prowse saw his master in any state of relaxation, and he was a little unsettled by it. After a moment, the teenager pulled an immaculate white handkerchief from a front pocket and tossed it to him by two fingers. “Get some of that blood off of your hands. You’ll give the poor housemaids a fright.”
Raising his eyebrows, Prowse did so in silence.