Siren | Cutler Beckett

Five

It had been raining the entire morning, the plumy housemaid frowned when she looked out of the window. As any other day, her work had begun early, before most of the other servants were awake in the large mansion. Lord Beckett had made it thoroughly clear that he wished his tea to be served at eight o'clock each morning, the time when he often started his work at his home office. Her first task was always to put on a kettle of water in the kitchen, which was located in the back of the estate, where the food was cooked, the dishes cleaned and the clothes laundered. During the days, or right before the Lord was having a significant guest over for dinner, the large kitchen was always crowded with busy servants and footmen. The housemaid enjoyed how quiet and peaceful it was in the early hours, before the rest of today's tasks were taken care of and she was alone. The only thing Miss Goodwright heard was the rain which violently pattered the panes of the roof. She wondered if the whole sky had collapsed when she removed the now boiling water from the stove. On the silver tray she had prepared, stood a tea cup along with the kettle, a small spoon and two sugar cubes. She checked one more time to be certain she hadn't forgotten anything, but could not see anything that seemed to be missing, so instead she carried the tray through the kitchen and up to the living courters of the house.

When she had approached Beckett's office, she carefully knocked on the door to let him know his morning tea was ready. To her surprise the Lord's didn't tell her to come inside, as he commonly did, in fact he didn't tell her anything. With a puzzled expression on her slightly red face, she leaned in and knocked on the wooden door once more. This time she was a bit more determined in her movement. First, the maid figured perhaps he couldn't hear her because of the noise the rain caused. So as a last attempt she moved the tray to her right hand and slowly opened the door.

"Lord Beckett," she called out while she did her best to balance the tray and not let the tea spill. "You're tea is ready" she understood that the Lord would be displeased with her for entering his office without permission, still Miss Goodwright took a step within the room and ran her eyes over the desk. The chair was empty. Unless Lord Beckett had decided to have his morning tea beneath his desk, where he might could have been able hide without the housemaid to sight him, which was highly unlikely, she made the conclusion that the Lord was either at his office at the town, or still asleep.

To be frank, the maid had not heard them arrive the previous night and did not for certain know for how long they had stayed on the party. Although she figured that Miss Lockhart and the Lord must both have had a long night. This wasn't the first gathering the Lord had attended, however, and no matter how much he had been drinking or how few hours he had gotten to rest, he still always sat at that desk at eight o'clock. Of course, these morning the dark circles around the slight man's eyes were very much more visible than commonly. When the Lord had gotten his sleep, he wasn't much for small chats early in the morning, but at these mornings, Miss Goodwright had avoid all conversations with the man save for the most essential phrases. So it was with large eyes the maid finally realized that this particular morning, Lord Beckett wouldn't have his tea at eight o'clock, and she slowly walked out of the office and closed the door behind her.

Although the sun wasn't shining, the brightness from the window made Beckett cover his face with his hands while he slowly opened one eye. The gloominess outside made it impossible for him to decide just how long he had been sleeping. At least until afternoon, he guessed, considering how late they had finally gotten home the previous night. He decided he would have to work late the night to follow in order to compensate for the lost morning. As for the meetings he most likely would or already had missed, he would have to think of some fair excuse. To mention the actual circumstances of his delay was not an option.

When his sleep drunken eyes had gotten used to the light, he cast a glance to his right. Jade didn't shift much in her sleep, he realized, for she had remained in the exact position as when the Lord last had seen her. With her mouth slightly opened, he could hear how she still breathed heavily. She had mostly seemed motionless throughout the night, save that she had sunk down and now rested her dark mess of hair against his upper arm instead of his shoulder.