“I believe it would be very wise if you ceased to speak,” said Olympia, knowing she was but one more crass word from knocking the woman down.
“Oh, ye believe, do ye? Thomas,” she spat. “Such a grand name for a lad what was born in sin. He should have died with his mother and joined her in hell. And I doubt ye are all that much better because no true lady of quality would come to this house. Why not get yourself on back to that whoremonger and do what ye came here for so that ye can get your shameful self gone all the quicker, ere you stink up the house. Aye, and why not take that little bastard Thomas with you if’n you be caring so much about how he is treated?”
Olympia slapped the woman, knocking her back against the ovens. It did not really surprise her when Molly, screaming invective and insults, lunged at her. The woman had made it very clear that she did not see Olympia as her better. This could end up being very embarrassing, she thought as she moved to skillfully defend herself.
Brant frowned and slowly stood as the door shut behind Olympia. “What is she about now?” he muttered.
“I be thinking she is about to have a talk with Molly, the cook’s helper,” replied the boy.
It was then that Brant noticed the bright red mark of a hand on the boy’s cheek. The woman Molly had obviously hit the boy very hard for some small infraction and that was not behavior Brant would allow in his home. He started toward the door, intending to have a word with Molly and thinking that Lady Wherlocke was taking a lot upon herself to meddle in the workings of his household.
Just as he stepped out into the hall he could hear loud female voices drifting up from the kitchens. He hurried down the stairs only to come to an abrupt stop when he saw his butler Wilkins sprawled out on the floor of the foyer. He looked at the burly man who was clearly standing guard over Wilkins.
“What happened to Wilkins?” he asked.
“He would not let Lady Olympia in to speak to you,” the man replied.
Before Brant could ask what the man meant by that more screeches echoed up from below stairs. Alarmed, he raced toward the kitchens, not even pausing to tell Thomas and the young maid, both close at his heels, not to follow him. He burst into the kitchen to see one of his servants attacking Olympia. Even as he stepped forward to help Olympia, he realized she did not need any help, and was in truth defending herself with an admirable skill.
It was tempting to stand there and watch Olympia, a baroness, brawl with a kitchen maid, but Brant decided he had best stop it. The only problem was, he was not sure how to break up a fight between two women as it was not something he had ever done before. When he stepped toward the women, a sharp tug on the back of his coat brought him to a halt and he looked down at Thomas.
“I would wait, m’lord,” Thomas said.
“But I do not wish for Lady Olympia to be hurt,” Brant said.
Thomas snorted. “She is doing right fine, she is. But, not to worry. Old Molly is fair winded and will go down soon.”
Brant was just thinking it would be absurd to take advice from a boot boy when Olympia neatly pinned the much bigger Molly against the wall. The look of fury and hate on Molly’s florid face made him uneasy. How long had the woman worked for him despite feeling such obvious distaste for the ones she served?
“You may consider me something less than you, my dear woman,” said Olympia, “but I am actually a baroness and I might remind you that physically attacking one of the aristocracy carries a very heavy penalty.” Olympia nodded when Molly grew pale. “I will, however, forget this undignified tussle if you apologize to young Thomas.” She nodded toward where a widely grinning Thomas stood beside Fieldgate. “He is right there so you need not go far to do so.”
Molly’s eyes widened so much at the sight of Fieldgate that Olympia thought they had to sting. The woman also grew very pale. Since Fieldgate looked more confused than angry, Olympia was not sure where Molly’s fear came from. She was just about to ask the woman if she was worried about what Wilkins would do, even assure her that Wilkins would soon be no problem when a sly look came over the woman’s face and Olympia tensed.
“I will not apologize to that misbegotten brat,” Molly said. “I did as I ought when I set the lad straight about touching my things.”
Olympia stepped back and frowned at the woman. “You had no call to strike him so hard that the mark still lingers upon his face.”