Decoy Danger
one
The lavish hedges and rose bushes being planted in the gardens would have been beautiful, if they weren’t hiding an ugly truth. The town of Oakheart, crumbling and suffering just a mile awake. Lord Rowley Emory owned the land Oakheart sat on, as well as the multitudes of surrounding farms and settlements. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean he cared. He continued to collect unfair taxes and ignore the peoples’ plea for help while their children starved.
Shila knew that life all too well, having grown up within it. Now she almost felt like a traitor, watching from the floor to ceiling windows of Emory Manor as Lord Emory put up hedges so they wouldn’t have to see the “filthy” town up ahead.
“Shila, come away from the window.”
Shila tore herself away from the window when Lady Joan Emory called for her. She had been working as a personal lady’s maid to Lady Emory for three years now, if she could even call it work. Shila was still paying off a debt she owed to the Emory’s when they agreed to commute her father’s prison sentence from death to life imprisonment. As a founder of the rebellion in Oakheart, Shila had secured him a
Lady Emory was lounging casually on a sofa and embroidering flowers on a blanket like nothing was going on outside. She gave Shila a look and tutted in disappointment.
“Have I taught you nothing?” she sighed. “If you linger by the window and spend too much time in the sunlight, you will get freckles. You don’t want to look like a peasant, do you?”
Shila didn’t say anything. She just kept her gaze down and sat in a chair beside Lady Emory, absentmindedly picking up her own embroidery hoop. She should have been grateful that she had a roof over her head, food in her belly, and clean clothes. Some would kill to be in her position. However, she couldn’t help but feel she was in a prison. She did and said what Lady Emory asked, and sat there while the woman berated her. Lady Emory often scoffed at Shila’s strawberry blonde hair, which refused to hold a curl and never lightened up in the sun the way Lady Emory wanted it to. She often had to listen to the insufferable woman accuse her of being too loud, too quiet, too fat, too skinny, or whatever else was irritating her in the moment.
After a few minutes, Lord Emory knocked and joined them. Lady Emory offered him a polite smile, though it was no secret that there was no real love in their relationship. They never slept in the same bed, and they only mildly tolerated each other as business partners.
“The gardeners are almost finished, my dear,” he told her. “Hopefully your new view is to your liking.”
“At least I won’t have to look at that dreadful little town,” she scoffed. “It’s always so loud, too.”
“It’s those rebels,” Lord Emory grunted. “We take down their rallies when they happen, but they never seem to quiet down.”
“Well figure it out,” Lady Emory demanded. “All of that yelling gives me a terrible headache.”
“Miss Hyde,” Lord Emory said, turning towards Shila. “Your father is one of those rebels, isn’t he? What was his name, Rodney? Haven’t they given up yet?”
“I’m not in contact with my father,” Shila said softly. “He’s still in prison, m’lord.”
“Hm, of course.”
Shila just kept her head down. She had a lot to say, but she couldn’t say any of it. Not now that she had been beaten into submission.
The next few days, the noise from behind the rose bush only got louder. The rebels hadn’t taken kindly to the wall the Emory’s had put up to block them, and riots were nearing the mansion. From her tiny room in the servants quarters, Shila could see the glow of torches getting nearer.
A bell rang to call Shila to Lady Emory’s bedroom, and she quickly put on a robe and rushed to see what she needed. Lady Emory just seemed inconvenienced by the yelling outside.
“Shila, would you please bring me some wine?” she asked. “That terrible yelling is making it hard to sleep.”
This carried on for two weeks, with the protesting only getting louder. Shila just continued work as she was told. She helped Lady Emory get dressed in the morning, fixed her hair with her fine jeweled hairpieces, and fed her cat fresh shredded chicken that the people of Oakheart would never be able to get their hands on. The little white cat, Queenie, was probably the only creature in this manner that seemed grateful for what Shila did.
She quietly sat on the floor with Queenie purring in her lap, eyes glued to the window as the glow of torches and rioters only got nearer. A rock suddenly flew at the window, and though it only bounced off and left a slight crack, it still startled her. Queenie puffed up and ran out the door as Lady Emory hurried back to the room. Shila quickly stood up. The woman seemed frazzled, but plastered a smile on her face.
“We’re going to have some fun, Shila,” she said enthusiastically.
“Fun, my lady?” Shila asked, glancing at the cracked window. “Right now?”
“Of course,” she said, moving to her closet. “You always dress me. For a change, how about I dress you?”
“My lady, I’m not sure-“
“Shila, do as you’re told.”
Shila quickly shut up. She was uncomfortable as Lady Emory stripped her naked and put her in one of the uncomfortable gowns. She tied the corset tightly and hurriedly pinned Shila’s hair up for her. She then thrust a glass of wine in Shila’s hand.
“Drink up,” she said. “Quickly.”
“My lady, I don’t understand,” Shila squeaked.
“Drink.”
Shila could see that Lady Emory wasn’t messing around. The yelling was only getting closer. Lord Emory burst in a few moments later, seeing Shila sitting on the edge of the bed with her nice gown and jewelry. He then looked at the wine in her hand, then gave Lady Emory a nod.
“Drink, Shila,” he ordered.
Shila felt terrible about it, but they weren’t going to let up. She raised the glass to her lips and drank, but it wasn’t quick enough. Lady Emory tilted the glass up and she choked as she was forced to gulp the wine down. She coughed and felt herself get lightheaded from the alcohol, but it wouldn’t fade. She was dizzy, and through her blurred vision she saw Lord and Lady Emory running away and leaving her there. She wanted to follow them, but she felt sluggish and couldn’t move without falling over. All she could do was sit there in a haze as things crashed and people broke in downstairs.
Shila knew that life all too well, having grown up within it. Now she almost felt like a traitor, watching from the floor to ceiling windows of Emory Manor as Lord Emory put up hedges so they wouldn’t have to see the “filthy” town up ahead.
“Shila, come away from the window.”
Shila tore herself away from the window when Lady Joan Emory called for her. She had been working as a personal lady’s maid to Lady Emory for three years now, if she could even call it work. Shila was still paying off a debt she owed to the Emory’s when they agreed to commute her father’s prison sentence from death to life imprisonment. As a founder of the rebellion in Oakheart, Shila had secured him a
Lady Emory was lounging casually on a sofa and embroidering flowers on a blanket like nothing was going on outside. She gave Shila a look and tutted in disappointment.
“Have I taught you nothing?” she sighed. “If you linger by the window and spend too much time in the sunlight, you will get freckles. You don’t want to look like a peasant, do you?”
Shila didn’t say anything. She just kept her gaze down and sat in a chair beside Lady Emory, absentmindedly picking up her own embroidery hoop. She should have been grateful that she had a roof over her head, food in her belly, and clean clothes. Some would kill to be in her position. However, she couldn’t help but feel she was in a prison. She did and said what Lady Emory asked, and sat there while the woman berated her. Lady Emory often scoffed at Shila’s strawberry blonde hair, which refused to hold a curl and never lightened up in the sun the way Lady Emory wanted it to. She often had to listen to the insufferable woman accuse her of being too loud, too quiet, too fat, too skinny, or whatever else was irritating her in the moment.
After a few minutes, Lord Emory knocked and joined them. Lady Emory offered him a polite smile, though it was no secret that there was no real love in their relationship. They never slept in the same bed, and they only mildly tolerated each other as business partners.
“The gardeners are almost finished, my dear,” he told her. “Hopefully your new view is to your liking.”
“At least I won’t have to look at that dreadful little town,” she scoffed. “It’s always so loud, too.”
“It’s those rebels,” Lord Emory grunted. “We take down their rallies when they happen, but they never seem to quiet down.”
“Well figure it out,” Lady Emory demanded. “All of that yelling gives me a terrible headache.”
“Miss Hyde,” Lord Emory said, turning towards Shila. “Your father is one of those rebels, isn’t he? What was his name, Rodney? Haven’t they given up yet?”
“I’m not in contact with my father,” Shila said softly. “He’s still in prison, m’lord.”
“Hm, of course.”
Shila just kept her head down. She had a lot to say, but she couldn’t say any of it. Not now that she had been beaten into submission.
The next few days, the noise from behind the rose bush only got louder. The rebels hadn’t taken kindly to the wall the Emory’s had put up to block them, and riots were nearing the mansion. From her tiny room in the servants quarters, Shila could see the glow of torches getting nearer.
A bell rang to call Shila to Lady Emory’s bedroom, and she quickly put on a robe and rushed to see what she needed. Lady Emory just seemed inconvenienced by the yelling outside.
“Shila, would you please bring me some wine?” she asked. “That terrible yelling is making it hard to sleep.”
This carried on for two weeks, with the protesting only getting louder. Shila just continued work as she was told. She helped Lady Emory get dressed in the morning, fixed her hair with her fine jeweled hairpieces, and fed her cat fresh shredded chicken that the people of Oakheart would never be able to get their hands on. The little white cat, Queenie, was probably the only creature in this manner that seemed grateful for what Shila did.
She quietly sat on the floor with Queenie purring in her lap, eyes glued to the window as the glow of torches and rioters only got nearer. A rock suddenly flew at the window, and though it only bounced off and left a slight crack, it still startled her. Queenie puffed up and ran out the door as Lady Emory hurried back to the room. Shila quickly stood up. The woman seemed frazzled, but plastered a smile on her face.
“We’re going to have some fun, Shila,” she said enthusiastically.
“Fun, my lady?” Shila asked, glancing at the cracked window. “Right now?”
“Of course,” she said, moving to her closet. “You always dress me. For a change, how about I dress you?”
“My lady, I’m not sure-“
“Shila, do as you’re told.”
Shila quickly shut up. She was uncomfortable as Lady Emory stripped her naked and put her in one of the uncomfortable gowns. She tied the corset tightly and hurriedly pinned Shila’s hair up for her. She then thrust a glass of wine in Shila’s hand.
“Drink up,” she said. “Quickly.”
“My lady, I don’t understand,” Shila squeaked.
“Drink.”
Shila could see that Lady Emory wasn’t messing around. The yelling was only getting closer. Lord Emory burst in a few moments later, seeing Shila sitting on the edge of the bed with her nice gown and jewelry. He then looked at the wine in her hand, then gave Lady Emory a nod.
“Drink, Shila,” he ordered.
Shila felt terrible about it, but they weren’t going to let up. She raised the glass to her lips and drank, but it wasn’t quick enough. Lady Emory tilted the glass up and she choked as she was forced to gulp the wine down. She coughed and felt herself get lightheaded from the alcohol, but it wouldn’t fade. She was dizzy, and through her blurred vision she saw Lord and Lady Emory running away and leaving her there. She wanted to follow them, but she felt sluggish and couldn’t move without falling over. All she could do was sit there in a haze as things crashed and people broke in downstairs.