"Ah. It's fairly obvious I've never done this before, isn't it?"
"Obvious. No, not at all."
Anna gave a light laugh as she took the shirt from Hewlett. It was still pretty soaked - he hadn't wrung it out properly - but she wouldn't batter his pride too much this morning. Snapping it out she threw it back over the line, carefully pinning it in place.
"See? If you don't straighten it, it will wrinkle."
"And we wouldn't want that," he murmured, daring to run a hand down Anna's arm. Her own sleeve was horribly creased.
He meant it as a kind joke of course, but the simple acknowledgement sent something hot churning in Anna's stomach. She normally took great pride in her appearance, though she'd woken this morning feeling heady… drowsy… achy and sporting a surprising pair of muddied feet. There'd only been just enough time to wash and throw on yesterday's gown, tripping out the door to start on her chores. First and foremost had been mending her nightgown. When had it torn? Perhaps there was a rusting nail on her bed, mischievously catching against the fabric… No matter. It wasn't anything to dwell on, certainly. Nor the fact that her nightgown was also stiff with salt, sporting grass stains along the hem and a tiny branch caught in the collar. That was fine too. Something within Anna told her it was fine. She'd just washed it with the other linens. She'd had an off night was all.
… although, a part of Anna acknowledged that her nights had been 'off' for quite some time now.
Hewlett cleared his throat, startling her. Anna realized she'd been staring at said nightgown, drawing Hewlett's gaze as well, and for one sickening moment she thought he realized… something. But then his expression changed, shifting into lidded eyes and a raspberry blush. He was only a man, intimidated by a woman's intimates.
Anna smiled.
He was only a man.
"It's no surprise you wouldn't know this," she said softly, kindly. "How many men bother with laundry?"
Hewlett let out a dry chuckle. He valiantly tried to snap out a pair of pants. "None, so far as I know. Without you we'd all be lost, certainly."
"Women, or me personally?"
It was flirty, more than Anna usually dared, but for all her feelings of unease she also felt bold. Assured. Like she'd done this before and already knew the dance. Anna glided closer to Hewlett, paralleling their bodies, the only thing separating them now was a line and a dripping wet cloth.
"Good morning!"
And a voice.
Anna paled at the same time Hewlett scowled, the two of them turning to find Simcoe striding towards them, his Ranger's uniform glinting in the early sun. For reasons she couldn't justify, Anna thought that it should be mudded - like her nightgown, like her feet - and the cleanliness of his appearance threw her even more than his knowing smile.
Simcoe hid something large behind his back.
"Beautiful day, isn't it? What tepid weather we're having, particularly for this time of year. What luck. It's the perfect temperature for communing beneath the stars." His eyes raked over Anna and she felt a painful, answering throb between her legs.
Hewlett noticed none of it. "You'll have to wait a few more hours for stars I'm afraid," he said, turning back to their laundry. "Either that, or your senses are addled. Perhaps you need more sleep."
"Yes. Perhaps." Simcoe's smile didn't waver. "Sadly, some of us have true work to attend to."
If Hewlett received the jab he didn't answer it.
"Though not all work is a chore. I'm quite pleased to go about this errand. Mrs. Strong? I have a gift for you."
Anna hadn't budged since Simcoe approached, but now she jumped, her body running through a ragged shiver; her hands landing up around her mouth. She didn't know why a 'gift' scared her so. All she could do was school her features before Hewlett looked once more.
He seemed pleased with her pale cheeks. "The lady wants nothing from you," he said. Smug.
"Well, perhaps we can let the lady herself decide."
From behind him Simcoe pulled a cage, so large Anna wondered how he could have kept it hidden. The bars were a thin, brittle, beautiful gold, arching up to a point that rested in his palm. The bottom wasn't lined with anything so common as brown paper or straw, but rather a layer of lush, vibrant leaves. They were greener than anything growing this time of year. None of them curled and none of their edges were brown.
Anna was so focused on the cage itself that it took her a moment to notice the thing within it. A bird. Acrow. Poised at the front with one foot hooked around a bar. It stared at her, unblinking and just a little too intelligent.
"It's not fighting."
She drew in a breath, surprised by her own words, but Anna knew them to be true. The crow was compliant in its cage, seemingly unconcerned that a man had trapped it - that it could no longer fly. Anna reached for the bird without conscious thought. She didn't hear Hewlett's grunt of concern, nor see Simcoe's smile turn twisted and sharp.
"Indeed," he agreed. "Pretty things… they know when they're caught, and they cease striving for freedom. Here you are, Mrs. Strong. Yes, heavy isn't it? Might I suggest you keep him by your bed? He'll be such a good companion during Setauket's colder nights."
"Yes," Anna whispered, her voice hardly her own.
Simcoe leaned down, eyes wide and dilated. He gazed upon Anna as one does a worthless, yet oddly entertaining child. His pale hands nudged her towards the house. "Go place him now."
"Yes," she said again and began the trudge up the hill. Anna didn't hear Hewlett's call - his voice tinged with true fear now. It was Simcoe's voice that followed her through the grass, winding up her legs and piercing through to her heart:
"I'll see you tonight."
"Tonight," Anna whispered. One finger slipped between the cage's bars and the crow came to her, nudging its feathered head against her skin, welcoming her.
When the crow bit, it drew a seas' worth of blood.