Sea Horses:
Chapter Thirty Seven:
It's an extremely early morning. Ridiculously early in Amaira's opinion, but she is nonetheless arriving at the stables just as the sun finally pokes its head out. Tommy greets her with a yawn, which sets her about yawning, and somehow they've silently agreed that it's too early for conversation. So early. Morning chores and still sleepy limbs don't mix well, so she and Tommy are klutzier than usual. Still, everything gets done. Mr. Applyby comes in as they're finishing up the riding horses. They take a quick break after the morning horses have been picked up. Soon it's back to work however, a massive amount of grooming and tacking up to do. They quickly learned that Tommy is hopeless at weaving ribbons through manes and tails, and Amaira's too short to tack up some of the larger draft horses. Mr Appleby sets her on a stool, and he and Tommy take turns passing her horses to plait. The assembly line style works. Tommy grooms, Mr. Appleby tacks, and Amaira does the intricate braids required for each team. Thank goodness for her cheat sheet they made yesterday. As they finish each team, they'll each take a pair of horses out to the carriage yard to hitch up. Drivers start showing up and picking up their carriages finally, so space starts clearing out. They've just hitched the last team when Amaira's mother arrives, side stepping around a departing team.
"Is she all set to go?"
Mr. Appleby nods. "You ladies enjoy your night, Tommy and I will finish up."
Tommy grins at Amaira, and she shoots him a glare, trailing after her mother.
Amaira changes in the tack room. She exchanges her work clothes for one of her mother's dresses, emerging a moment later only to be wrangled by her brush wielding mother. She glares daggers at a sniggering Tommy while her mother brushes her hair. Thankfully, her dress is at least her favorite color. It's red, with a muted yellow cutting through the center of the bodice and continuing down the center of the full skirt. Hair brushed, her mother deftly ties the bow before her daughter can escape out the door.
"Honestly Amaira, you're the only little girl I know who doesn't enjoy dresses."
Amaira shrugs. "Let's see them tack a horse."
Amaira's mother sighs and leads her out of the stables. They start the short walk from the center of town to the Havorford Manor where the ridiculous party is being held. Amaira watches the carriages pulling up as they approach.
"I spent hours tacking and grooming those horses for a five minute arrival."
"Oh to be rich," her mother laughs.
Just before they reach the door, Amaira's mother pulls her aside.
"Now I expect you to be on your best behavior alright? Please and thank yous. Be polite. I mean it Amaira, you can't just spout out whatever comes to mind in front of these women. Now, when we get to the door, you're going to curtsey alright? Then we'll find you a nice quiet table and get you some dinner. Mommy needs to shake hands with a few people tonight, but then I'll come find you and we'll go okay? Please just promise me no animals, and no Izzy tonight."
"But-"
"Amaira promise me."
"I promise," she dutifully replies.
"Good."
Her mother straightens, grabbing her daughter's hand and leading her to the door.
Amaira sits at the table, legs swinging unconsciously back and forth, her young limbs too short to reach the ground from the high backed chair. She watches disinterestedly as her mother mingles across the room, seamlessly blending in with the posh crowd. She plays the part well. She laughs when the others do, although the crinkles never form by her eyes. She's mastered the art of demure blushing, brushing away praise which only prompts them to continue to shower compliments upon her. The ladies next to Amaira let out a collective tittering laugh, causing her brown curls to tumble over her shoulders as she turns to investigate, blue eyes wide and absorbing. A serving boy appears to be the source of their amusement. She turns back to her table, fidgeting in place, fingers drumming along the edge of the table. This so-called party is incredibly dull. She debates slipping away to the manor's awaiting carriageway, deciding against it however when her mother catches her eye. She slumps further in her seat.
There's a steady clinking coming from the wine table now, the hostess is gathering everyone's attention. With blonde curls piled artfully atop her head, she easily garners a few head turns from her gentlemanly suitors. There's something about what an honor it is to host this party, and how the tradition's been in her family for years. Amaira stops listening only a few minutes in. She regards the adults of the room almost scornfully. Such stress and fretting, not to mention the emphasis placed upon the party seems like a waste. She folds her arms together, setting her chin on their crossing; sure, she must look a sight to anyone "proper", but it's getting late and staying awake is only made that much more difficult when the event you're trying to stay awake for is boring you to tears. Amaira sighs. Her eyes pick up motion off to the side and her head lifts to investigate the first interesting thing all night. It's a young boy hurrying towards her, and is that...why yes it is, it's Tommy. She hops down from her seat, only stumbling slightly as she meets him halfway.
"What are you doing here!?" She whispers in the far-too-loud-to-be-anywhere-near-covert way of young children.
Tommy grins. "Couldn't leave yah by your lonesome now could I?"
Amaira raises an unimpressed brow.
"Alright, so I got dragged along too. Turns out Mrs. Fieldson's husband wasn't feeling well, so she volunteered to watch the siblin's so long as yours truly brought up her pies."
Their hushed conversation garners a few glares from the surrounding adults who are apparently finding some value in whatever Clarissa Havorford is still prattling on about. Amaira catches a dark haired woman's pointed glare and hastily grabs Tommy's hand, tugging him back toward the corner of the room. They slide down to the floor, Amaira relishing the cool relief it offers, just now noticing how stuffy the crowd has made the room. She leans her head back against the wall, surveying the room and pursing her lips.
"What's even the point of this?"
"The party?" Tommy shrugs. "My ma said it was the day when they built the manor, and all the people knew it would be a permanent village. From then on, they've thrown a party to celebrate, although the early version was more about feeding the villagers than the upper class displaying its wealth."
Amaira processes this, still staring out at the crowd. "So what do we do now?"
An hour passes with Tommy and Amaira occupying themselves with games in the corner, transitioning from I Spy to impressions of the gathered people as the evening wears on.
"Hey who's that over by your mum?"
Amaira interrupts her mimicking of a more portly man currently hoarding cheeks full of pastry cake that would rival even a squirrel's to follow Tommy's pointing finger.
The man is tall, blonde, and reasonably attractive in the sense that he, and a good half of the attending females, knows it too.
"Dunno. He's been around her all night. Client maybe? Either way he might wanna get something to eat. He's starting to resemble Frantic Freddie when breakfast is a couple minutes late."
Tommy opens his mouth to respond, then seems to reconsider. She is only 6 after all. Tommy's spared continuing the slightly awkward conversation when a spaniel trots in. Amaira abandons any semblance of conversation in favor of the heavily feathered liver and white creature wagging its stub of a tail and bounding towards her.
"Oh, you adorable thing you," she coos, dropping to her knees and using both hands to scratch behind long ears.
Tommy chuckles behind her, before taking a knee beside her.
"Heya pup. Where'd you come from fella?'"
Eyes bright with excitement, and tail still wiggling ferociously the dog rolls onto his back, begging for a belly rub. The children happily oblige.
"'M surprised they let the hunting dogs in with all the company."
"How so? Charlie seems right at home here. Clarissa must like him. And how do you know he's a hunting dog anyway?"
"How do I know? How do you not? He's got the long ears ain't he, and the nose. Sides he's a spaniel, use 'im for flushing out the birds, so you can shoot 'im down."
Tommy mimes pulling back the string of an arrow. He pauses then, canting his head to the side.
"Now wait a minute how do yah know his name's Charlie?"
If Amaira's eyes go wide for a split second too long, Tommy doesn't seem to notice. "Well, well he looks like a Charlie doesn't he? And what's to say his name isn't Charlie, hmm?" she defends, arms crossed over her chest.
"And what's to say it is?" Tommy challenges.
"Oh shut up Thomas. If I want to call him Charlie, I will!" She finishes with a stomp, lip protruding in a pout.
"Alright, alright, no need to get your knickers in a twist, I'm only teasing."
"My knickers are just fine thank you." Tommy watches as the angry flush fades from her cheeks only to be replaced with confusion. "Why on earth would they be twisted?"
He smirks. "Not actually, stupid, it's an expression. Means you're in a fit. You know, angry over nothing."
"Oh...well you're stupid, stupid."
She sticks her tongue out at him, only to bite it in her haste to get her mouth shut. Her mother is coming. Sarah strides briskly over to her little corner.
"Good evening Tommy, does your mother know you're here?"
"Yes 'm, she sent me along with Mrs. Fieldson's pies."
"Oh alright then, do you know where she is? I've been meaning to catch up with her."
"Uh she was over admirin' the cakes not too long ago, might still be there."
"Oh could I trouble you to go check? I'd like to have a word with my daughter."
Tommy shoots Amaira a sympathetic wince before darting away.
Her mother turns toward her, and Amaira watches as her mother restrains from tapping her foot.
"Amaira what did I say about animals?"
"But-"
"I said not tonight, didn't I? Was I not very clear?"
"Well yes, but-"
"Did you let that dog in here?" She motions towards Charlie.
"What, wait-"
"You put him back where you found him right now."
"Would you just let me-"
"Three"
"But I didn't-"
"Two."
"MOTHER!"
Her shout draws the eyes of a few people on the outskirts of the crowd, and Sarah's cheeks flush scarlet.
"Amaira listen to me right now-"
"I didn't let the dog in!"
Her mother pauses.
"He was already in here. He came over to me. Charlie's says he's one of Ms. Clarissa's favorites."
Her mother exhales, running a hand up to check the pin holding her hair, before crouching next to her daughter.
"Oh darling, I'm sorry. C'mere. I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry. They've just got me so nervous. It's alright. C'mon I'll take you back to your table. Do you want something to eat? A pastry puff? Maybe a sweet roll? Oh, there's a berry tart, your favorite, you want me to get you that?"
Amaira nods glumly. "I guess. You said we were only gonna stay for a bit. How much longer?"
Her mother sighs, forehead crinkling slightly, "You're tired. I know. I know. Um," she bites her lip, "Can you tough it out for a few more hours? Maybe I can find you somewhere to rest, um-"
"Mum it's fine. Go do...whatever it is you're doing."
"There's my brave girl." Sarah brushes a curl back behind her daughter's ear. She lifts her daughter back onto her chair. "I'll go get that sweet hmm?"
Amaira resumes her bored surveillance of the crowd until her mother returns a moment later, promised treat in hand.
"There you are. If you need something, you can come find me alright?"
Amaira nods. Her mother hesitates.
"Go on then. I'll be fine mum, just not too much longer."
"Good girl," she murmurs dropping a kiss to her forehead, before gliding back across the floor and rejoining the crowd.
Alone again, with neither Tommy nor Charlie to keep her company, Amaira picks disinterestedly at her tart. In all fairness it is her favorite, but she might as well be eating sawdust for all she tastes. She's awake for about another half hour, before tired eyes give out. Soon she's leaning forward, dozing with her head pillowed on her arms. It's not till she feels a tugging on her dress that she awakes. She grumbles slightly, looking up expecting to see her mother ready to go. Instead there's nothing. This wakes her up instantly, and her gaze shoots to the bottom of her skirt. A white, freckled muzzle has the hem of her dress clamped between its jaws. Two paws meet her knees, and then telltale long brown ears as the spaniel scrambles onto her lap.
"Charlie?" She yawns. "Who's your friend?"
"Not much time. Kestrel came up from below. Said he smelled smoke. Went to check it out for myself and, by the birds, is he right. It's cloudin' below right now. So thick you couldn't see a pheasant between your own paws I tell you."
"None of the master's helpers are down there either. All of them are up here with you lot. Most of the pack's outside, but the few of us in here are trapped as much as you are. Tried to tell the feeder and he shooed me off. Called me silly he did." The black and white setter adds with a shake of his head.
"Smoke...Did either of you see the fire?"
"Stick around for the flames to lick at you? No thanks. Cleared out as soon as I found out Kess was right. Can you open the door? Get us and your own pack out?"
"And it's burning right now?" Amaira slides down from her chair as both dogs nod. "Um." Her eyes dart around the room, searching for her mom.
"Charlie, that woman who shooed you away from me...do you remember what she smells like?"
"Do I remember? Wouldn't be much of a dog if I couldn't!" The spaniel sets his nose to the ground, ears trailing along with him. "This way." The dogs set off in a trot, Amaira following after them. When Amaira spots her mother, she runs ahead, weaving around skirts and long legs. Her mother's talking in a small group, but Amaira pays this no mind, coming up and tugging at Sarah's skirt much like Kess did to her. Her mother glances down, seeing her frantic daughter.
"Excuse me a moment," she murmurs, before leading them a short ways away, the pair of dogs joining them.
"Amaira what is it?"
"Look, I know you said no animals..."
"I did..."
"But Kestrel and Charlie here have, um, well...The manor's on fire," she eventually blurts out.
Her mother recoils, "Amaira you've made up some stories in the past, but fire... You listen to me, fire is no joking matter!"
"I'm not making it up! If you don't believe me, just come see! The dogs know where it is." Amaira doesn't give her mother a chance to refuse, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the stairwell. In her determination, Amaira misses brushing past Tommy, the boy calling a startled, "Where are you going?" after her.
"Amaira this is ridiculous!" They pass through the stairwell's opening, Sarah grabbing her skirts with her other hand as she stumbles along with her daughter.
"There is no..." Sarah's voice trails away, "fire."
Smoke is pouring up the staircase now, and Amaira can hear the crackle, pop, and hiss of unchecked flames coming from below.
"Oh my god!" Sarah bolts back up the stairs, death grip on her daughter's hand.
"Fire!" she shouts as she reaches the landing.
The crowd stills at the shrieking woman, then, as they process what she's saying, a ripple of panic crosses over the mass of people. It's chaos then, all shrieks and shouts as the people make a break for the windows and double doors that lead outside.
People are pushing and shoving, ignoring everything in their desperation to get out. Amaira's yanked away from her mother at one point, but she can hear her frantic mother as people push them further apart. She glances back to see smoke infiltrating the ballroom now, the gray cloud creeping forward steadily as the crowd makes a mess of getting out. Smoke is unforgivingly fast, Amaira decides as it presses in around her, about halfway out at this point. Coughing is intermingled with the panic now, and Amaira herself grimaces, holding an arm over her mouth. Thankfully the dogs are still beside her, and she latches onto the setter's collar, trusting him to get them out in this gray haze. The dogs are more careful than the people she decides, watching them trot dutifully behind the crowd, never crowding the ones ahead of them, and thus able to maintain a steady clip. Their size is working to their advantage too, not only lower to avoid the worst of the smoke, but also able to weave between people now foolishly caught up to their neighbors and effectively stuck. Nonetheless she breathes a sigh of relief when they pass through the open doors and into the awaiting courtyard. The moon's high in the sky, and large enough to provide plenty of light. She has yet to let go of Kess's collar, whether by conscious decision or not, and the setter weaves them outside the crowd and back onto a hill. The grass has dew on it, and Amaira can feel it soaking through the hem of dress, sending up a chill by her ankles as she walks.
The little girl and two dogs watch from atop the hill, seeing the people swarm from the house like ants from a destroyed nest, and then quite stupidly mill about. She's not sure who makes the decision, but she sees a few young boys sent running towards the center of town, and the crowd itself gradually makes its way back from the manor and onto the street. The dogs stay put, Amaira absentmindedly finger-combing through Kess's feathering. The town fire wagon, drawn by a set of Percherons, rapidly approaches the smoking house, wheels bouncing over ruts in the street and horse harnesses jingling in response to the quick pace the whip sets. She sees people dart around the wagon, cracking open the wooden barrels and starting a bucket brigade, the bravest tossing water inside the house. The house itself is lucky, the flames have yet to spread and the still night air will prevent them spreading any further. Groups of ladies are forming, couples embracing each other off to the side, and most of the men helping to throw water on the fire. One person, however, is darting from group to group. Amaira quickly deduces this to be her mother and starts down from the hill, dogs in tow.
Someone has lit lanterns she muses. The irony isn't lost on her that the very force destroying the house is the force being partly relied on to save it. Her mother finally spies her from across the street, and her relief is obvious, a visible weight lifted off her shoulders. She runs over to her daughter, pulling her into a desperate embrace. Amaira returns it, lips pressed into an unworried smile.
"Oh baby I was so worried," she whispers, pulling back slightly. "Are you alright?"
"'M fine mum. Kess got me out."
"Kess?"
Amaira pats the dog who thumps his tail against the ground, with the attention now fixed on him.
"Oh you good boy," Amaira's mother gushes, thumbs stroking at the dog's cheeks before scratching under his ears. "Smart boy, wonderful dog, beautiful thing you."
She stands from the dog with wet cheeks, swiping at them quickly.
The head of the fire brigade lets out a whoop then and all heads snap towards him.
"We're clear folks! Damn lotta smoke damage, but the fire's out."
A resounding cheer goes up.
Someone calls out, "Any idea what caused it?"
The man shrugs. "Probably a fireplace spilled over. Dunno yet, I'll have a look once the smoke clears a bit."
It's not long before the man declares the house fit to enter, and the Havorfords are at the front of the line, Clarissa dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief while hanging off the arm of a dark haired man. The majority of the party is still milling around outside, Amaira is sitting at her mother's side as Sarah and a friend talk in hushed tones. A shrill cry comes from the manor and it's almost comical the way everyone turns, Amaira wonders if a few of them have hurt their necks in their haste. The head of the brigade comes out a moment later.
"If I could ask all you folks to remain here for the moment."
"What for!?" Someone shouts, and a resounding murmur washes through the crowd.
"I'm afraid the fire wasn't an accident. Who was it that first noticed the fire?"
Amaria watches as Sarah pales. A few in the crowd point to her.
"Ma'm if you don't mind." He motions them back to a table on the patio, largely obscured from view by a garden screen. Sarah follows after him numbly, her grip on Amaira's hand tightening.
"Have a seat ladies," he offers, pulling out chairs for them. He sits opposite them. He's older, gray intermixed with brown in his short beard and whiskers. His bushy eyebrows remind her of Mr. Clemen's wire-haired pointer. He's got a trace of wrinkles on his forehead, and the telltale crinkles by his eyes of a life full of laughter. Amaira likes him immediately.
"Now I'm sorry to hafta put you through this so soon, but it's for the best."
Amaira's mother nods, and Amaira almost asks her what has her so nervous, but decides against it at a glance at the man across from them.
"So it was you who found the fire then ma'm?"
"Yes," she answers immediately, squeezing sharply on her daughter's hand. Amaira bites her lip and looks over her shoulder, wishing one of the dogs was here so she'd have something to do with her hands.
"And how did you find it?"
"Well, I was walking towards the stairs when I thought I smelled something, so I headed down them, saw the smoke and came back up. I yelled fire, and then we were all trying to get out. It all just happened so fast," Amaira's mother whimpers, wiping hurriedly at her cheeks.
"It's alright ma'm, everyone got out 'n that's what matters. Here," he passes her a handkerchief.
"Thank you," she murmurs, dabbing at her eyes.
"Now did you see any flames?"
"No, 'm afraid I got so scared I ran straight back up."
"Perfectly alright. Did you happen to see anyone go down the stairs about midway through the party? Maybe someone acting strange?"
"No I can't say that I did. How could anyone do such a thing!? Sure everyone has their private little tiffs, but setting a fire with so many people inside? It's unthinkable!"
The man pats Sarah's hand before turning to Amaira.
"Hello there little miss, what's your name?"
"Amaira."
She feels Sarah stiffen next to her.
"And how are you tonight Miss Amaira?"
She shrugs, "Fine I guess. Tired."
"Pretty late for you to be out huh?"
"Not really." Amaira yawns then and the man chuckles.
"Of course not. Well did you see anything little one?"
Sarah squeezes her hand sharply again.
"No."
"And you got out okay then?"
Amaira brightens, "Mhmm, Kess is really smart."
Amaira's mother inhales sharply, and Amaira shrinks back wondering what she's done wrong.
"Oh? And who is this Kess?"
Sarah interrupts, "Please you'll have to excuse my daughter, she's-"
The man waves her off. "Amaira, who's Kess?"
Amaira glances up at her mother. "Nobody."
"Oh I think you were gonna say something weren't you? Hmm? What was it? It's okay you can tell me, who's Kess?"
"He's a setter."
"A sitter?" The man looks confused.
"No, a sett-er, a hunting dog. Kess likes birds."
"Ahh." The man grins, and Sarah smiles back tightly."Alright, I think we're done here. Feel free to head home, oh and if you think of anything, please come find me."
The man is back the next day.
"Amaira can you get that!?" Sarah shouts from the kitchen, brushing hair out of her face and smudging flour across her cheekbone.
Tiny feet patter over to the door before it swings open. The chief's eyes drop down to Amaira and he smiles.
"Hey there darlin'." He stoops down to her level, while Amaira looks at him skeptically.
"Amaira who is tha-" Sarah strides over to the door, pulling off her apron, "Oh!" She halts then, mouth slightly agape, before she remembers herself.
"Chief, please come in!" She ushers him over to their modest little table, and the man obligingly pulls out a chair and takes a seat.
"Can I get you something to drink? Eat?"
He waves her off, "Not at all ma'm."
Sarah fidgets, snatching up her apron and draping it behind the counter, "Please excuse the mess, I wasn't expecting company this morning."
"I apologize for dropping in like this ma'm, but well, some, uh, inconsistencies arose last night and I'd just like to clear them up, you understand."
Sarah swallows, "Amaira, baby, why don't you go play in your room for a-"
"That's not necessary."
"Oh well I just don't want to-"
"No really, I insist."
Sarah freezes, before dropping nervously into a chair.
"Surely you don't think-She's only six- I mean-"
"Ma'm." He stops her. "Amaira, would you be so kind as to have a seat with us, darlin'?"
She can read the anxiety written on her mother's face, and she doesn't understand. Hesitantly she takes a seat as well.
"Now last night you told me that you were the one who found the fire."
"I was."
"But I, uh, have it on some very good accounts that, uh, say well, it was your, uh, daughter who found it. Came over and got your attention."
"Well I mean she did come over and get me, but its not like it matters. She wouldn't have known what to do anyway. I mean was it really worth mentioning?"
"I'd say so."
"Eh, I wouldn't."
"Mmm," the man's smile looks more like a grimace."Well, uh, how did she find the fire?"
"Oh you know she was coming to find me, passed the stairs." Sarah shrugs.
"Did she now?"
"Well, yes. Chief, she's six. I mean honestly."
"Now that's funny because uh, some people saw her sleeping at a table not five minutes before. Out cold. And uh, you weren't anywhere near the stairs. Wouldn't have really had to pass them to find you now would she?"
"I'm not sure I like your tone."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Are you implying something chief? That a-that a six year old little girl- You said so yourself she was sleeping right before!"
"So you admit she was sleeping."
"Well I don't know, I wasn't near her."
"So for the time leading up to the fire your daughter was unsupervised."
"No I'm not saying that-I mean I was keeping an eye on her- She hasn't done anything wrong!"
"But she was alone right before the fire started."
Sarah's mouth opens and closes a few times before she shakes her head. "I think you need to leave."
"I think I'm exactly where I need to be."
"No really. I insist." Sarah's voice is icy.
The man raps his knuckles on the table before letting out a defeated sigh.
"Look I tried to do this pleasant, but uh, I can take you into town if you'd rather do this in town hall."
"You have no right to-"
"Oh honey I have every right. The Havorfords put a lot of money into this little town, and if someone messes with them, well they're messing with the entire town." The man shrugs. "Now I'm not saying your daughter did this, but chances are, she does know who did, and I'm not going to let some dress-maker tart get in my way. We clear?"
Sarah gasps indignantly.
"Now if you want to go play in your room for a little while..."
Amaira can practically hear her mother sizzling, but Sarah pops her lips and gives the man a scathing smile, "I'll get right on that," and stomps into her workroom, slamming the door behind her. Amaira sits there awkwardly for a moment, eyes flitting up and immediately back down, as she curls in on herself slightly, body language screaming that she's not a threat. There's a crash from the work room that makes her head whip around followed by a muffled string of expletives. The chief steeples his fingers together on the table, patiently waiting for quiet. He's granted it a minute later.
"Am I in trouble?" Amaira squeaks out, flinching back as the man turns more directly towards her.
"Hey now, none of that. You've no reason to be afraid little miss, your mama's just kicking up a fuss."
Amaira gnaws on her lip, gaze still directed at her lap.
"Now how did you happen upon the fire? Someone take you down there, tell you to get your mama."
"I don't think I should say. Mama wouldn't like it."
"Well what does your mama say about lying?"
"She don't like that neither."
"And you wouldn't wanna lie to me now would yah?"
"No sir."
"Then how 'bout you tell me what you saw."
Amaira risks a glance up, it doesn't appear to be a trick.
"Well I was just having a nap when Charlie woke me up. He had Kess with him.
"There's a good girl."
Amaira relaxes a bit at the praise.
"An' Charlie said that there was a whole mess of smoke downstairs. Said we should get out. And so I said I didn't know where mama was, but Charlie found her. She didn't believe me when I said. She thought I was lying, but I swear sir I wasn't. I don't lie. I don't, honest."
"Course you don't. What happened then?"
"Well she didn't believe me, so I brought her down the stairs and showed her. Then she came back up and yelled and so everybody left."
"Uh huh so you didn't see anyone light the fire?"
She shakes her head.
"Now this Charlie can you describe him for me? What color hair does he have.
"Brown."
"Eyes?"
"Brown."
"And about how old was he?"
"Four."
"Oh come now he must've been older than that. Was he your mother's age?"
"No. He's four."
"He couldn't have been four."
"He could so! He was just a pup two springs ago, but he kept up with the rest of the pack. They paired him up with Kess just last year."
"Now whaddaya mean he was a pup?"
Amaira looks confused. "I'm not sure-I-Well you do know what dogs are don't you?"
"Dogs? Amaira we're talking about Charlie here right? The one who told you about the fire."
"Oh yes. Charlie told me."
"Uh huh and is this Charlie a man?"
"Oh goodness no, he's a spaniel."
"A spaniel..." the man whistles through his teeth. "You mean to tell me a dog told you about the fire?"
"You're mad. See I told you I shouldn't've said anything. Everyone always gets mad."
"Now Amaira we were just talking about lying right? And you said you didn't. Now please for the love of god tell me what happened."
"I-I-I just did."
The man rolls his eyes. "Amaira dogs don't talk. I don't have time for this. Who told you about the fire?"
She sits there wide eyed, "I don't know what you want me to say. You and mama both say don't lie, but when I tell you the truth you don't believe me."
The chief rubs a hand over his face.
"Amaira, did you light the fire?"
"What? No!"
"Because it's starting to sound like you did. You were the only one there, no one else knew about the fire, but you, and now you're making up stories about talking dogs."
"I didn't! I'm not even allowed to. Mama always makes the fires! She says she'll teach me when I'm older."
"Did your mother light it then?"
"What? She didn't even know about it 'till I told her!"
The man sighs, rubbing wearily at his forehead. This has been an enormous waste of time. The mother's guilty of hiding something, that much is obvious, but there's no way she would've had time to light it. And despite the little brat's lies, she is far too young to have started it. Looks like he's back at square one.
"I'll be leaving now ma'am," he calls in the direction of the workroom. "Again if you remember or hear anything of use, please contact me."
Sarah re-enters as the man leaves, sending an explicit gesture in parting. Still fuming she turns and notices Amaira.
"If I ever catch you doing that I will skin you alive."
Needless to say Sarah catches her flipping off Tommy a week later.
The chief catches the arsonist less than a week later. The arsonist, a disgruntled servant using the fire as a diversion so that he could smuggle out Mrs. Haverford's jewels, is promptly arrested, a makeup ball scheduled for the end of the month, and the incident largely forgotten. Except for Tommy. Amaira has caught him looking at her oddly, seeming just a little too interested in her dealings with the horses. He'd questioned her about the night of the fire, but she'd brushed him off, dismissing his concerns with a simple wave of her hand. He's since dropped it. Well, at least openly. Her mother practically has a heart attack when she mentions it in passing, leading to a complete "shut-off" of animal conversations for a week. Things go back to normal, and it's winter before anything of note happens again.
Author's Note:
Sorry, sorry, sorry. As per usual super delayed. Hopefully 5,000 words makes up for it?
THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES TO MY LOVELY BETA don'tlikehugs18!
Reviews are my lifeblood!
Thanks for reading,
~TheSparkedInfinity