Anna was dumbfounded. She didnât expect that kind of reply, especially from a noble woman. But Lady Mayfairâs âexcuseâ for why she was crying snapped Anna back to reality.
âA lost key? Of all things, a lost key?!â she burst out in her head.
She knew nobles were always crying over spilt milk, but a grown and, seemingly, not so feeble woman as Lady Mayfair crying because of a key?! It seemed preposterous. Maybe she was thinking too far ahead, but Anna couldnât shake the feeling there was more to it than keys. Seeing the woman giggling and making jokes like dubbing her âSir Penclaveâ, made Anna push the thought in a corner of her mind; she would definitely investigate the matter later.
âSince you decided to take a midnight stroll, which I highly recommend myself from time to time, may I show you around the garden?â
âYes, that would be splendid. I had planned to walk around it a while, but such walks are always better with company.â she answered, honey-coating her plain sounding words.
Anna fell silent while they strolled around the garden in a calm pace. It wasnât that she wanted to keep her distance from her host, she would have initiated a conversation herself, had she not been mesmerized by the gardenâs beauty: all dressed in a pale, shimmering blue, with a harmony of diverse colors. She noted down in her mind every flower she saw on their way to the gazebo and a puzzle seemed to reveal itself, urging Anna to solve it.
âItâll prove a good past time riddleâ she thought, looking to where the gazebo was.
The shape of a man was outlined by the Moonâs light, next to the gazebo. He appeared to be staring at the sky, holding some kind of bottle in his hand. And it suddenly donned on Anna, she went out for a walk without any means of protection or anything that could make for a quick escape. Her mind searched a bit, what could she use, she touched the end of her braided tail, a pin, she was crafty enough, if need be she would find a use for it. If that person should prove to have a bad intent. She wasnât scared, she could take care of her own, but she wasnât the only one she should fend for and the bottle urged her to be cautious and ready for anything.
But, as the man turned and spoke, his accent immediately made her recognize who he was.
"G'devenin'" The scarred man greeted with a casual wave of his free hand "'Avin' trouble sleepin' too, eh?"
âYouâre not giving me a momentâs rest, are you?â she argued with the higher entity ruling her every move, be it God or Fate, hoping the scene from inside the cellar wouldnât repeat itself.
âGood evening Captain MacCraigh.â she responded cordially. âYou could say that. How about yourself, out for a midnight sip?â she asked pointing at the bottle, the trumpet shaped sleeve slightly revealing the bandage on her right wrist.