About Lady Staywell

You may have already met her.

She is the inner voice of the inn. The one who walks the rooms and the halls quietly, noticing the way guests settle into chairs, the thoughts they carry with them, the unspoken worries that arrive tucked neatly inside coats and briefcases. She listens not only to what is said here, but to what is happening beyond these walls, in the wider world that presses in even when the door is closed.

Lady Staywell has always been this way.

She is my ancestor, from Wales, and she carries that lineage with her. Stone and rain live in her memory. So does restraint. Wit, sharpened gently, never to wound. Knowledge worn lightly, as though it were simply part of breathing. In our family, stories like hers are passed down through manner more than record. Through the way silence is allowed to do its work. Through the understanding that not every truth needs an audience.

She observes first. Always.

Lady Staywell knows patterns. She notices what repeats itself in people and in the world. What cycles back when we think we have outgrown it. What rises during times of change, uncertainty, and quiet fear. She understands that the mind often speaks louder when the body is finally at rest.

You would like her, I think. She is clever without being sharp. Insightful without being unkind. She has little patience for unnecessary noise, but endless regard for sincerity. She believes deeply in self possession and the quiet dignity of tending one’s own life with care.

When she moves through the inn, things shift subtly. Conversations soften. Thoughts grow clearer. Guests find themselves understanding something they could not quite name before. The house itself seems to listen more carefully.

I do not summon her. That would suggest she answers to me.

Instead, I listen. I pay attention. I make space. When it is time, she gets my attention, and I speak what she offers. She moves through me when she chooses, and only then. Her presence is not something I call forward. It is something I receive.

She prefers it this way.

She does not insist on being seen. That has never been her way. She appears when a guest has decided to stay rather than pass through. When curiosity outweighs haste. When the mind has slowed enough to notice another presence in the room.

If you notice her, do not be surprised. And if you do not, trust that she has noticed you all the same.

Mika

P.S.
This morning, I found a line written in the margin of the Ledger. The hand was unmistakably hers.

“Pay attention to what repeats. It is trying to teach you.”

Lady Staywell tends to meet those who choose to stay.