Beautifully Reckless by Virginia Taylor

Author:Virginia Taylor [Taylor, Virginia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

In the kitchen of the Pig and Piper, the sound of chairs smashing into the walls continued from the other room. The staff, consisting of the cook, Mrs. Hobbs, two kitchen maids, Mr. Hobbs, a barman, and Rose, stood in a huddle by the work bench. “Leave them to be killed,” Mr. Hobbs said, shouting to be heard over the din. “They deserve it after fleecin’ farm workers and takin’ all their pay. It’s justice, that’s what it is.”

Rose’s heart tumbled around in her chest. “But think of the blood, Mr. Hobbs.” She widened her eyes with mock horror, which she only half-faked. Mr. Smith and Mr. Gray had been caught out. One of the players had discovered a secret drawer in the table, holding an extra set of cards. “Someone will have to clean it up.”

The stark anger in the shouting voices of the farm laborers sent cold shivers down her spine. However, if Mr. Smith or Mr. Gray, or both, were killed, the culprit would be arrested and hanged, leaving wives and children, the innocent, to suffer. She hoped someone could calm down the situation.

Then, her father’s voice echoed in her head: Someone, who one? Someone, you one. But how?

Being a mere female, her lone voice wouldn’t be heard above the ruckus ... and then she remembered how she could be heard. She spotted the step stool that Mrs. Hobbs used to reach the high shelves. Her chest filling with fluttering birds, she scooped up the steps and marched into the taproom to the beat of, “Don’t go in there, my lady,” from behind her.

Too late. She was already in and trying to push through the crowd of angry, bumping men. She attempted a quick warming of her throat with a frantic exercising trill. Hearing instead, a deathless squeak, she took a deep breath, and trilled the scales again. Without a pause, she began the newest song in her repertoire, “Silent Night.”

No one heard her over the shouting. She increased her volume, while she marched over to the nearest table, carrying the stool. The men nearest turned to frown at her. Doubtless her high soprano was bursting their eardrums. Loudly singing Silent night, holy night, three times, she settled the stool near a chair, and held out her hand to the nearest male. With an expression of reluctance, he took her fingers in his. Using him as her balance, she swiftly stepped up onto the seat of the chair and then to the table, and began the second line All is calm. She knew she had a powerful voice, but her audience wasn’t yet convinced.

By the third line, more heads turned. More shouting stopped. By the time she got to ‘Round yon virgin, she was a virgin surrounded by a group of rough males with ripped shirts, and hot, angry, staring faces. She finished the song to a scuffling silence, and then a loud cheer.

“More,” someone yelled.

“If you promise to sing along with me ...”

And the song was repeated with a shouting chorus of more than thirty tuneless males.

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