As if being chased and nearly assaulted by some street thug who happened to be Mr. Meijer's brother, accidentally nearly killing her master with a cabbage, nearly killing his brother with a bottle of milk, gritting through the worst family reunion in Whitby history, fearing Claude was at risk of being preyed on, and having to prepare a room in top speed, and all of this last night, wasn't bad enough... Rose had spent her entire day nearly breaking down, anxious for the talk she was to have with her employer. To make everything worse, she had been late serving breakfast this morning, and Mr. Meijer's sister had been ordering her around all day, keeping her from her usual tasks, and then complaining about what she did get done. Rose had indeed used all her toilet breaks to cry. Was she going to be fired now, just like the butler? Mr. Meijer and his gloomy moods frightened her. The prospect of having to hear what he had to say tonight was enough to make her shudder. How disappointed father would be in her, if she lost her position again. 

At 8 p.m., Rose entered the drawing room with a tray with tea. At least Miss Meijer was not around. Rose tried not to tremble as she put the tray down, and lowered her hands, and then clasped them in front of her, not sure what to do with them. They were sweaty. "You meant to talk to me, ser?" Rose managed to bring out quietly.

[The dreaded night preceding.]

If he did not, Nesah would have his head. Hopefully, if he did not mention the dreaded encounter with his more criminal brother, all of its scandal would lay as forgotten as his fortnightly letters to Mother.

Which always came back to haunt him. Still.

Zechariah was sitting on the not-bloody side of the couch, for the upholsterer had not yet been by. A chair that had not previously been anywhere on the property was sitting, cobwebbed and uneven on its legs, tucked away in a corner. He looked blandly to the tea, one brow arching as the tray shook on its way down. Then, he looked upon Rose; the tea seemed cherished in comparison.

"Miss Ward," he said succinctly. "Were you aware of Mr. Beaumont's conduct?"

Oh, how could that be forgotten on the list of awful things that had happened last night! Rose blushed deep as the scandalous memory forced itself back into her mind. "Certainly not, ser!" She defended herself. "I mean, not until last night!" She really didn't want to think back of that. "I would 'ave reported it if I'd known." She probably wouldn't have, for sheer embarrassment.

"I would hope so." It was difficult to tell whether his tone was usual-cynical or outright suspicious, for it was how he typically talked to her regardless.

Despite having had so few questions when he hired her.

"You need to be faster in your work with guests, Miss Ward." He meant lying to his relatives about why they absolutely could not stay here, but simply following the less homicidal ones' orders would have to suffice. "The cabbage is being garnished from your wages." He did not mention the milk bottle she had smashed over Menachem's head, which had been far more of a product loss than the still mostly salvageable cabbage.

There was a pause, and he glanced down to his ungloved hands - unusual, but the fabric chafed the cut on his hand.

"Any word on the carpenter's hand?"

"Aye ser," she said timidly, while what she really meant to say was: you massive prick. Mr. Meijer was living a life of luxury and never had to worry about money, and yet he would make her pay for a bloody cabbage. Of course, she should be grateful and relieved that apparently he wasn't sacking her. And she would be. If he wouldn't have mentioned the cabbage. She looked down, all timid and submissive in exterior. "I haven't heard of Claude, ser. I hope your hand is alright?" She hoped it hurt.

How else were they to keep those vazey working class fools in their place?

"Find out about him," Zechariah suddenly ordered. "Of your own accord ... but now. Any doctor's bill regarding this is to be sent to us."

'Us' currently being Zechariah, his unwelcome sister, and the maid stuck in a now severely rather than just brazenly understaffed household.

And if she started to follow his orders, he added as an afterthought:

"If the wound is bad, a new carpenter will be necessary."

"Aye ser," she said. And she quickly added: "I'm sure it's not so bad. Claude is strong, and he'll heal fast. No need to find someone else." She stopped. Had she spoken out of turn? Rose felt that she was somehow responsible for the situation last night and she would hate the idea that Claude might lose a job because of it. Even if it was a job for this twit.

"You are well-acquainted, then?" he said, more interested in his ass that than the proper maintenance of social order.

She was surprised he cared. Was there something to what his crazy brother had said after all? "Aye ser. He was a friend of me brother's." Whoops. Best not go there. Mr Meijer hadn't asked any questions about her family, and Rose preferred to keep it that way.

The room dropped several degrees in temperature.

"Which brother?"