Anne looked up at Mr. Fraiser when he set down the bowl. "Thank you," she said quietly. It was easier to focus on him than on the Earl. She took the washcloth and began to clean the wound. It bled worse now, but though the sting brought involuntary tears to her eyes, she was hardly affected by the sight of the wound.

Focusing on the wound, so that she wouldn't have to look at the Earl and remember a different sight, she muttered. "I... If the offer still stands, s-, milord, I came for me wage. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be trouble." She held the washcloth on the wound, hoping it would stop bleeding. "It's just... I've bad need of it, or I wouldn't 'ave troubled ye at all, ser." She risked a timid glance up at his face to see how her request was received.

Douglas kept working on the tangle, but glanced up to her.  "Aye, lass, it was said in 'onesty.  That and a letter of recommendation along with the uniform and things yu needed for working 'ere.  Those are all yours, nae questions asked."  He assured her. 

He had kept the pouch with the correct amount plus a bit more, as he had felt so guilty for what the lass had seen and dealt with because of him.  "Mr. Fraiser will stay 'ere and 'elp yu wrap that up.  I'll get the wages and the letter." 

He had also written that down, not sure how to word it but it looked proper and gave the reason of a fact that he needed someone that could travel with him to London as well as working there in Whitby, and the lass was too young to be traveling like that away from her family.  However, she had been quite a hard-working maid, and even when things became a bit of chaos, she handled it quite well.   It wasn't a lie, just not all the details.

He came back into the studio to see how they were doing.  In his hand he had a silk pouch in his hand holding the coins for her wages, as promised, and an envelope holding the letter with the seal showing it was from the Earl of Morton with green wax impressed upon it.

Anne gave him a small sad smile. She was grateful. He could have just as easily blamed her for what had happened and fired her on the spot that day. Instead, he sought to make amends. It was a shame she could not continue to work here.

Then the image flashed before her mind's eye again. It was probably for the best.

By the time Lord Gordon returned, the cut had been cleaned and bandaged, and Anne was untangling the last few hooks. She quickly rose. "Ye've been very generous, milord. I'm sorry for what happened, and..." she didn't quite meet his eye. "I'm sorry for how me father treated ye. Ye were bein' kind."

Douglas shook his head as he handed the items to her.  "A father 'as the right tae be protecting 'is daughter.  It was me that 'ad the problem that day, nae yu."  He assured her.  "I am vera sorry that yu did 'ave what yu saw that day." 

He looked at the injury.  " 'ave Doctor Wells take a look at that later.  'e was the one that came tae see ... my sickness.. that day."  He explained, though was not sure how to explain it to her.

"Yes ser, m- milord." She wouldn't go see this Dr. Wells. Doctors were expensive and only ever called if someone was already on the brink of death. Anne wouldn't spend the precious money she had just been given on that. "I'm sorry ye wasn't feelin' well."

Sickness... It had been a hangover, and Anne knew it. Her father had often warned his children about the evils of drink, and she had seen it in her brother, when he came home drunk despite father's rules. She had also seen the evil done by a sober man, but father had just tried... A shiver went through her body. Anyway, she now understood just how bad drink was and she knew her father was right. "Thank ye milord, for me wage and yer kindness. I do apologize fer the floor. I'll not disturb ye further..." She loaded the coiled fishwire back onto the skep and lifted it up to her hip.