Page 21 of The Duke of Ruin
"Anything for you m'dear," Mr Lawless said with a saucy wink that left Liv rather red-faced. The proprietor of the tavern was seventy if he was a day, but his rheumy blue eyes still twinkled mischievously. He disappeared through a low door, which led to his private rooms, leaving Liv standing awkwardly in the dim tavern.
"So you're the widow Black, that I've heard so much about."
The voice that spoke was accented with money and privilege, though there was a definite slur to the words. Liv whirled around, and saw who it was that had addressed her. A man, of about her father's age, who was seated alone by the hearth, clearly in his cups. His clothes were fine as any Lord's, and Liv knew for certain that she was looking at a member of theton.
"I am," she replied steadily, her voice carrying across the room. She would not walk to him; let him say what he had to say for everyone to hear. "Though we have not been introduced, sir, so I do not know your name."
"Keyford," the man grunted, standing to his feet and swaying unsteadily. "I am Lord Keyford, of Aylesbury. And you my dear are not welcome in this town. Trying to dreg up old ghosts, eh? Well St. Jarvis has been peaceful since that old bat died and the boarding house closed. I won't have it, I won't have you here."
Lord Keyford lunged for Olive, who was so taken aback by his outburst that she was momentarily paralysed with shock. It was only the quick intervention of another customer, a black haired woman who had been dining alone, that saved her.
"Oops a daisy," the woman sang, in a broad Northern accent, as she stood and grabbed Lord Keyford by the elbow. "I think you've had a bit too much to drink, my Lord."
Her voice was firm, and Liv could see that her grip on Keyford's elbow was even firmer. The drunken Lord raised two, thick, grey eyebrows in confusion, as he struggled to register that he was being frogmarched to the door.
"I want to have a word with the Widow Black," he protested, but his captor simply smiled sweetly at him as she blatantly ignored his protests.
"And you shall, my Lord," the dark haired woman crooned, as she opened the creaking door, "But just not tonight."
Olive watched, open mouthed, as the woman gave Lord Keyford a gentle, but firm, push out the door and slammed it in his wake. She stared with satisfaction at the closed door for a moment, before turning to the elderly fishermen, still sat at the bar.
"Fat lot of help you lot were," the dark haired woman grumbled at them.
"I can't bite the hand that feeds me, lass," one of the older men defended himself, glancing apologetically at Olive as he spoke. "Lord Keyford is my landlord, if I'd manhandled him the way you had, I'd be sleeping under a bush tonight."
"Aye," the other men chorused in agreement, staring down at their pints of ale and avoiding Olive's eye.
"I am most grateful," Olive ventured to the woman, "If there's anything that I can do for you, please allow me."
"You're Mrs Black?"
The question was delivered in that abrupt, no-nonsense, Northern accent that brokered no arguments or lies. Olive nodded, her eyes locking with the woman's own, which were a troubled shade of grey.
"And you run the boarding house," the woman continued, still watching her closely with unreadable eyes.
Again Olive nodded, wondering if perhaps this fierce Northerner was going to request a bed for the night.
"I'm Polly," the woman stuck out her hand for Olive to shake, "Polly Jenkins. I'm looking for work around these parts Mrs Black, and I heard you might be looking."
"Oh,' Olive was momentarily taken aback by the directness of Polly's statement. She hadn't expected to find her new maid in a tavern, but the woman looked capable and strong, and Olive liked the straightness of her character.
"I'd be delighted to take you on, Mrs Jenkins," Liv replied, a warm smile creasing her face, for she would be glad to have this Polly Jenkins on her side. Though small in stature, Polly looked strong, and she radiated energy.
"Did I miss something?"
Mr Lawless was back, a pail of milk in his hands, and a look of bemusement on his lined face as he regarded the silent men at the bar, who were avidly watching the exchange between Mrs Black and Polly.
"Only the local lord being escorted out, on account of his rudeness to Mrs Black," Polly replied demurely.
"Old Keyford was in his cups, I should have cut him off after the last pint," Lawless glanced at Liv, his eyes full of apologies. "He's only recently back from Southampton, he always drinks like a fish when he's back from there. And to add to it, he's probably drowning his sorrows, now he's heard that his son in law survived the downing ofThe Elizabeth."
Olive bit back a gasp -- Lord Keyford was the father of her husband's late wife. He had seemed bitter, and now she knew why; to outlive your child was every parent's worst nightmare.
"I'm sure Lord Keyford will be filled with remorse on the morrow," Liv said lightly, not believing for a minute that the old man would. She did not wish to stand and talk about the drunken Lord, however, for now that she knew who he was she felt a stab of pity for him.
"Thank you for the milk, Mr Lawless," she said, with a bright smile, relieving the man of the pail he held. "I will replace it tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Mrs Black," Lawless said with a gap toothed grin, and the men at the bar echoed him. Liv waited for Polly to fetch her bag from the table, and settle up with Lawless for her supper. When she was quite ready Liv led her out onto the quiet road.
