"Gods, nay! That was far worse. I just wish ye dinnae have to do anything like this. I like ye, Paisley, but ye arenae cut out for this life."
Paisley carefully rolled over in bed, so that her back was turned to Ava.
"Well, that's a shame, because I don't have much choice, do I? Bills have to be paid, and I need to earn money somehow," she said, keeping her voice light and unconcerned.
Ava sighed and said nothing. Paisley could imagine her sewing, the needle flashing in and out of the material like a tiny silver fish. Ava was good at that sort of thing – sewing, cooking, and cleaning. None of that was how she made her living, which had shocked Paisley to the core at first. But it didn't matter in the end. Ava was Ava and felt like the first real friend Paisley had ever had.
She wasn't sure how she would manage if she had to go back to her bland, genteel Society friends, who never said what they thought and had no aims beyond catching a rich husband and living a comfortable life.
If they met Ava even once, it would kill them,she thought, smothering a smile.They wouldn't mind Dominic though. Some of them might be scared, but all of them would swoon anyway... He wouldn't even need to say anything.
Still, even Ava's dubious attitude couldn't dampen Paisley's optimism, and she fell asleep almost immediately, half terrified and half excited for what the morning would bring.
The morning brought rain, as it happened.
Paisley had woken once in the night to hear the rain pattering angrily on the roof, only a few feet above their heads. It was dark, and she could see the lumpy figure of Ava in the bed opposite. An irregular shape in the corner formed itself into her dress, hem lifted now for greater practicality. She'd fallen asleep immediately again and woke at dawn to hear the rain still thundering down. She dressed quickly and quietly, trying not to wake Ava. Her ankles felt chilly with her new shockingly short hem, but the new length would doubtless prove to be advantageous. She'd get used to it.
Anyway,Ava reminded herself,it's not as if I'm wearing thin satin slippers anymore. I'm wearing hefty boots. You can't evenseemy ankles.
The ground around the Crown was sodden, the paths churned up into mire from countless feet and hooves. Paisley was used to it now, sticking to the slippery wooden paths set haphazardly around the worst of the mud. She neatly dodged a splash of filthy water from a cart rolling past, her mind fixed on what today would be like.
It was early in the morning, she doubted they would have many customers, if any. Would she have to cook? Paisley hoped not. She could barely boil eggs and make tea. Serve drinks? Almost certainly.
I can do that,Paisley thought,I can carry drinks to tables and whatnot. How difficult can it be?
She ducked through the forest path, remembering how she'd dashed through it only the night before, pursued by Dominic. The thought of him sent a thrill through her, a strange, tingling sensation in her gut.
Stop,Paisley told herself fiercely.This is youremployer. You need this position.
Despite all of her mental preparation, her heart skipped a beat and her guts knotted themselves up like a fist when she spotted the pub in the distance.
Best foot forward,she reminded herself, just like Mama used to tell her before a particularly important ball or party.Remember to smile. Be gracious and friendly, but not too familiar. Focus, and stay present.
Taking a deep breath, Paisley pushed open the door and stepped inside.
She blinked, taking in the scene.
She'd been right about the place being empty – or at least,almostempty. A handful of drunks clustered together in the corner, and a lithe, dark-haired man leaned against the bar. Dominic had his back to her, rearranging the liquor bottles on the counter. Paisley smoothed down her dress, shaking outher skirts and straightening her (borrowed) apron, and stepped forward.
"Pardon me, Dominic?" she said lightly, more aware than ever of how jarring and out of place her accent must sound here. "I'm here."
Dominic glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression impassive.
"Ye are late."
Paisley blinked. "Late? I... I don't think that I am."
The dark-haired man chuckled. "Aye, ye arenae late. Dom here is just trying to put ye on the wrong foot."
Dominic shot him a sour look. "Ye can stay out of this, Thomas. Pay him nay mind, lassie. Now, ye wait there, and I'll find ye some work to do."
Paisley nodded, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. She glanced around the pub, taking in the state of the place. It seemed that instead of staying extra late to clean up after a long night, Dominic simply cleaned up in the morning.
Or rather,shewould be cleaning up in the morning. The floors needed a good sweep, and ideally scrubbing, too. Not that Paisley was going to volunteer to scrub unless she had to. Shepicked at the hem of her gown, wondering whether the lace would be a bad idea after all.
In the cold, unforgiving light of day, the pub looked shabbier than ever. Cobwebs clustered in the corners of the ceiling – she would need a duster tied to the end of a stick to reach that– and the windows were in need of a good clean.
With freshly cleaned windows, the light in the place would be cleaner and clearer. She eyed the mezzanine – or whatever the equivalent of a mezzanine was in a place like this – hanging above the bar. There were rooms up there, but they were strictly out of bounds to patrons.
