165. Welcome Back, Mistress Stephenson
Amy takes a deep breath and decides that it is time to move on from the ground floor and attempt to fool Boswell with her charade. She moves with elegance and poise up the grand staircase and turns the corner to come within sight of the butler.
On seeing Amy, Boswell loses all composure. His eyes widen, a hint of a smile forms at his lips, and he runs to greet her.
“Mistress Stephenson! You have returned to us! And I see that it is you, everything about you is exactly as it was the day you left us!” For some reason, Amy feels an urge to shoot Boswell a nasty look. She acts on it. Boswell stutters, “That is, I mean to say, you look far better, far stronger than when you left us, of course. You look like you did in your prime!”
Amy nods slightly, expressing approval, while not deigning to speak to the servant. She merely continues her steady progress toward the door that Boswell had been guarding.
“I shall inform the household of your arrival at once, my mistress! Everything must be made ready for your return!”
“No!” Amy suddenly snaps, surprising herself a little. “My return is to remain a surprise to the master, and thus must remain a secret to the entire household. If you breath one word of this, I shall tear your puny head from your neck, hollow it out, and use it for a goldfish bowl!”
Boswell takes Amy's abuse in stride. Amy, for her part, doesn't know where these words are coming from, though they seem to be having the desired effect.
“Of course, my mistress, whatever you say. I must warn you, though, the manor has fallen upon hard times and the second floor is somewhat dangerous. I can escort you...”
“No! Amy snaps again, “If the surprise is to be maintained, you must stay here. Continue to guard the door as though I had never been here. Let no one in or out. Do you understand?” Amy has now reached the double doors, which she opens with a flourish.
“Yes, my mistress.”
“Oh, and Boswell?” Amy turns slightly to glance over her shoulder at the butler.
“Yes, my mistress?” he asks, looking for all the world like an abused dog seeking the approval of its master.
“I shall return to deal with your myriad failings during my absence later.”
“Yes, but of course, mistress.” The butler looks crestfallen.
As Amy closes the double doors behind her, she exhales and feels a rush of nervous energy. “I did it! I fooled Boswell!” she thinks, “Now I just need to stop this wedding, get Shannon-”
“And make that meddling, usurping whore pay!” says a voice in Amy's head.
“Whoah! Where the hell did that come from?” thinks Amy.
“It came from me,” replies the voice, now calm and patrician. “I don't believe we've met. I am Claire Stephenson, mistress of this house and true owner of the powers you have appropriated for yourself. I am afraid I shall be resident in your pysche for a while, so we may as well get used to one another.”
Amy gulps. She has that powerless feeling again. She prepares herself to face whatever dangers she may on the upper floors of the house. She also resigns herself to being drawn further into the web of the Stephenson clan.