Chapter 28
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 27
Gregory hasn’t returned by the time the hour is up, and so Arthur, with a gulp, pulls on the cord to call a servant. One shows up a few minutes later, and only says: “Of course, Sir,” when Arthur asks for directions to the garden party, like maybe that request isn’t weird and he wasn’t somehow supposed to have known that. He leads Arthur along another maze of corridors and stairs, and bows him into a small parlour where, to his relief, Darcy and Gregory are already waiting.
Darcy looks relieved on seeing him, too, says: “There you are, Arthur-dear!” Gregory grins at him like… like nothing’s the matter, and nothing really is, is it? Probably Arthur is silly for having expected him to come back. Maybe exploring the place is fine, since they’re guests?
Anyway, he’s nervous enough about this whole affair, and glad that he can walk behind Darcy and Gregory, who’s leading her on his arm, when they head out through large French doors and are being announced to the people on the lawn outside.
There are picnic blankets spread on the grass- perfect, white ones- with pretty baskets and crystal glasses, and also some small tables with chairs, Arthur thinks they’re probably white-painted metal. There’s a sandy garden path leading to a greenhouse that’s attached to the house with one short wall, and whose doors are open and let out a sweet, humid plant smell.
People are milling about- only a few dozen, and they’re all dressed very fancy, and moving like… like they belong there, and know how to be elegant and comfortable at the same time.
There’s a murmur of conversation, and delicate laughter rises from three ladies on one of the picnic blankets, and some older guests are sitting at some of the tables, and others are walking around, and still others are playing croquet.
~~~~
This feels like a fairy-tale, a real one! Darcy has to remind herself to keep her mouth shut as she looks around at the gardens and the cavorting people. She can nearly forget that she’s scared of these people because it feels unreal all of a sudden. Between the greenhouse and the croquet, she can’t help but look around for any hedges from which a white rabbit might run up to her any moment now.
Then Gregory tugs on her arm and she looks where he is trying to lead her to, right to the duchess. With a stifled gasp she digs her heels in because no! They can’t just walk up to a lady of higher rank! Has he not heard about any etiquette? Why does she even wonder? He’s her demon knight, he’ll still need a lot more of her womanly touch to become a proper knight. So instead, she glares at him for his whispered “It will be fine, I’ll protect you,” and forcibly steers them in a different direction.
Sadly, the duchess seems to have noticed them anyway and actually approaches on her own to welcome them. Darcy tries hard to remember every single piece of etiquette correctly and only speaks when spoken to, but finds herself having to (hopefully discreetly) pinch Gregory a few times to behave himself. Overall, the duchess seems not dissatisfied with the encounter, or Darcy’s work so far, especially in how quickly she supported the Order of Galahad. Nevertheless, Darcy sighs a deep breath of relief once the duchess excuses herself to see to her other guests.
~~~~
Arthur feels really, terribly out of place. The garden itself would be nice… if he didn’t suspect that all of the people in it are judging him and finding him lacking.
He wants to hide. Are those fancy young ladies now giggling about him? Can those gentlemen over there tell how much he doesn’t belong here? How does Gregory do it, not feeling absolutely crippled with social awkwardness in this situation?
He slants a look at Gregory and his confident, unconcerned smile- except it’s not there.
Gregory’s eyes are fixed on the French doors, where a Lady Beatrice Thynne and her cousin, George Thynne, 5th Baron Carteret, are being announced. Arthur looks back and forth between them and Gregory. They don’t look any different from the other people here- handsome and rich and well-dressed. But Gregory’s eyes are wide, and he looks pale to Arthur in the bright afternoon sunlight. And like… he’s trying to keep his bottom lip from trembling? Keeping himself from crying?
Darcy also appears to notice something, because she turns her head and looks at Gregory, too. She glances across at Arthur, and her expression firms, from confusion to determination, she glances around, she turns and tugs on Gregory’s arm. Arthur thinks she’s using some of her dhampir strength, because Gregory sways for a moment before he tears his eyes away from the nobles and looks at her, and then has to turn and take a quick step to keep up with her as she starts moving towards the greenhouse.
She isn’t moving too fast, and Arthur does his best to look casual, too, as he follows along, interposes himself between the nobles’ line of sight and Gregory on his other side.
Darcy’s exasperation with Gregory wavers with how she can feel that something is wrong with Gregory. Are his hands really shaking? Thankfully, the greenhouse isn’t big enough for people to hide in, and empty. Arthur stays by the door, pretending to examine some potted flowers, while Darcy engages. Taking those shaking hands into hers, she tells Gregory she wants to help, to make it better, he can tell her. With another glance at Arthur and giving her a pleading look, he whispers that he saw somebody back from when he was making money. It’s obvious that he is scared of the man? Is it the man? Oh… Darcy fights a blush down, because she still isn’t entirely sure what this entire prostitution business is about, but she figured out by now it has something to do with being intimate and with what Gregory said a few days ago, about her having more reason to be jealous of the male knight rather than Dame Jennifer, maybe this is something men buy?
Anyway, that’s not the point now. She tells Gregory to leave it to her. His faint protest that it’s his job to protect her, not the other way round, she brushes away. He always likes when she makes decisions, hush, a woman is there to support her man, that’s what all the stories say. She pointedly taps the handkerchief in his breast pocket three times, hoping it is the one she made for him, not just whichever the house dressed him with. Didn’t she tell him she’d protect him, that he didn’t have to do things alone?
Gregory gives a weak nod that freezes when Darcy goes on to say that he needs to let Arthur know. Arthur understands more of the world than her. She’ll need his help with this. When Gregory baulks vehemently at that, she takes both his hands more firmly again. Did he already forget what she only just now said? Or should she tell Arthur for him? Somehow, that is even worse and all Darcy can do to calm him down is to say that she won’t… if he goes right now and does it himself. Alright, if she needs to be the stern woman for her strangely flighty man, all of a sudden, she will. She’ll always try to be good for him. Letting go of his hands, she holds firm under his pleading and the attempt to make her relent by making his eyes extra large to beg. No, he needs to do it now.
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Arthur doesn’t know what’s going on, and he doesn’t like it. He hovers near the entrance to keep an eye on anyone coming this way. It’s really warm in the greenhouse. Outside, it might be unseasonably pleasant still for late September, but there’s a cool breeze, while in here, the sun blazing through the glass panels heats everything up to what he imagines must be true tropical temperatures. So… he doesn’t really mind being by the door where there’s fresh air, since he doesn’t know whether it’d be appropriate for him to take his jacket off- but all of those concerns are just a distraction from wondering what has Gregory so clearly upset.
Arthur hasn’t seen him like this ever since he got his powers, and rarely before then. But his gut tells him this party just got even more dangerous than it already was.
Eventually, Darcy seems to convince Gregory of something, and Gregory comes over to him- with shuffling steps and a ducked head, shooting him glances- totally un-Gregory-like. Even when he knows Arthur’s angry with him for something, he’s usually more… cheerful about it. Sheepish, but not like this.
Arthur looks at him expectantly, and Gregory mumbles about how Darcy insisted he talk to him… then squirms some more but doesn’t come out with it until Arthur prods with a: “Well? Just tell me!”
What follows is a stuttered, disjointed explanation of how Gregory recognizes that baron from when he was making money- and while Arthur wouldn’t put it entirely past a nobleman to be involved in running some of the London gangs, he realizes with a cold, creeping sensation to his stomach that no, that’s not what Gregory’s talking about, that’s not what he did for the money they survived on.
That’s not why he was sometimes crying when he got back. That’s not where he was going when he smiled at Arthur and told him he didn’t need to help, no, he should stay home and read books and study because he was much smarter than Gregory.
The thought makes Arthur sick- that, happening to Gregory, not… not because he thinks it’s fun, but because he had to. And Arthur’s not an idiot, he knows the streets, he knows what happens, he doesn’t need more than Gregory’s vague allusions to understand that the start of it wasn’t because he chose to do it.
There are all sorts of emotions swirling around in him, horror and nausea and… and… “Why didn’t you tell me?!” he demands.
And Gregory mumbles more, about how he was ashamed and scared.
That sends a fierce stab through Arthur- ashamed? Scared? The implication is clear: That Arthur would think less of him. That Arthur would turn his back on him, or say mean things, or not be his friend anymore.
And that… how can Gregory think that? Doesn’t he… doesn’t he know Arthur at all? Doesn’t he… doesn’t he trust him?
It hurts, and it makes Arthur angry- if he’d known, if Gregory had told him, he could’ve done something. They could’ve done something, found a different way.
He’d thought… he’d thought they were the kinds of friends who told each other really important things like that.
But right now… right now isn’t the time for all of that. Right now they’re in the middle of their first big social occasion, surrounded by nobles. Arthur takes a deep breath. Right now, they have to get through this without drawing undue attention to themselves. And what if that baron recognizes Gregory?
Darcy joins them when Arthur gives her a shy wave, and Arthur shares his concerns with her. He offers that he’s looked at some illusion magic- but only a very little bit, he’s not sure how much he can do.
Still, she encourages him to try, and after some careful concentration, Arthur manages to make Gregory look a little different- not so much that the people who already saw him should notice. Blue eyes instead of green, and his hair colour a bit lighter, and his face a bit rounder.
Together with him now being healthy and clean and in a totally different environment, they agree they’ll just have to hope for the best.
~~~~
With that decision made and now suddenly a different goal for the social occasion, Darcy holds her head high as she leads her party back out into the garden. She startles when she sees that there are still less than fifty people there, even though surely, all the guests must have arrived by now. This is far more exclusive than she thought. Never mind, she has her engaged to protect, her social fears have to take a backseat to that, she has to be the perfect baroness now, use her status to prevent any harm to her… well, the people she cares about really, Gregory now primarily with his enemy present, but also Arthur. She lets herself for a moment bask in the realisation that she likes it, she likes protecting them.