Chapter 49
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 48
Maybe Jack shouldn’t smirk so thoroughly, but Art just is terribly adorable when he’s a mess, smitten all over again, about Lucy. It maybe also isn’t quite fair to let him gush on about that date when he planned half of it, but really, tactical advantages aside, he really missed seeing Art like this. It has been so long since he last saw him be hopeful. Art always had a melancholic streak, Lucy’s apparent death seemed to rip the light out of his eyes and the life out of his heart. Yes, Jack’s aware he’s at fault but… Art seems to already have forgiven him. Seems to be oblivious to the fact that Jack prolonged his suffering.
Jack can’t say that he has much inclination to remind him. He would much rather keep the sense of suddenly being twenty years younger alive. Although it’s a wrong sense of time reversed, that’s only too obvious because Art is ripping into him for all those rose coloured letters he always assumed were from mistresses that Jack felt embarrassed about. No, those were from the most important girl in his life, girl, not woman, and thank you, he’s not inclined towards people that young, Art is the scoundrel among them.
That has Art guffawing and clapping his heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder because sure, tease him on his lack of morals when it’s Jack who fathered a bastard and has been living in sin with Lucy for at least some time.
“You mean I’m the one who is aware of fathering a bastard. Yours just can’t prove it,” Jack fires right back as he leans into Art’s hand and chuckles into his coffee.
Grin firmly in place, Art leans in and waggles his eyebrows at his best friend. “Can you prove that Darcy isn’t mine from before Lucy got turned?”
Scoffing, Jack puts his cup down, smirks and goes for it, goes for the biting comments that he never feels comfortable making with anybody but Art. Goes for letting it show how much he knows Art craves being treated as an equal, not a superior. It has been the base of their unlikely friendship for a long time and it feels so good to not have this huge abyss of lies between them. “Rose petal is too smart to be yours, and we both know that your scoundrel ways stopped right at Lucy’s dainty feet, you push-over.”
While Art is snickering about that with a shrug and another bite of his ‘breakfast’ (rather more a last snack before getting to bed,) Jack finds his thoughts racing ahead with the comfortable banter. Wait, scoundrel ways and Lucy, he knows full well how much of a thing for scandal his wife has, and maybe, this is Art, he doesn’t know what the word judgmental means when he opens his heart to somebody. They clearly both have no interest whatsoever in any old even-for-show competitiveness about the woman they both love. They both want her happy, Jack has a rather good understanding of what she’d like, and… he calculates, no, he can’t conceive of Art being offended, and no, he can’t find any logical reason to be uncomfortable with the thought.
So another fifteen minutes later and Art having started to yawn heavily, Jack is making plans. He’ll walk him over, no, not to a guest room, to Lucy’s room where she’s doing her own routine of getting ready for coffin. He’ll send Art in with a smirk and hint that he’ll be along later, can Art guess how Lucy will look at getting them both? It’ll be a good indication for further plans to see how Art reacts, and Lucy is going to be able to hear it through the door. Even if Art hesitates, his rose is going to be gleeful that he’d dare make a suggestion like that at all.
Sadly, that plan gets disrupted by the sound of the door to the kitchen garden and somebody being noisy over in the kitchen. Somebody who sounds like Gregory, and that has Jack lift an eyebrow. Did he really only come back home now? Yes, rose petal spent the late part of the evening with Jack, and he’ll never complain about that, but he had assumed that at least shortly after he brought her to bed, her husband would deign to return and spend the night with her. While Jack is still deciding if he should say something, Art is already up, tiredness apparently be damned, and walking over into the kitchen.
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He’s a scoundrel, sure, he’s the first to recognize slinking back in with the morning sun, but that kid is about to be married to little Darcy and he has every intent to live up to being Daddy. A few words about changing one’s scoundrel ways for the woman one loves don’t seem like a bad idea. Just a friendly bit of advice from one guy who only just found his own love again to the soon-to-be-wed one. The way Jack falls in line right behind him has Art smile, yeah, they’ve always been a team, but being a dad team now, he could go right back to crying with happiness.
That evaporates somewhat when Gregory clearly has no idea what the two men are on about and immediately takes it as them admonishing him for nothing before he, immature even for a teenager, just runs out on them.
Seeing Jack’s expression, Art puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we were idiots, too, at that age.”
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He’s right, at least Jack really hopes that is all it is. If not for Darcy’s insistence on the young man he would definitely have said he is the wrong match. How his always diligent and curious rose petal could even manage to talk deeply enough to be in love with Gregory is beyond him. Every time he tries to have some form of important conversation with him there are only two options: 1) he does not care, or 2) he becomes petulant and removes himself from the conversation.
Maybe that is just it? Maybe his rose petal needs somebody who is so far beneath her that she feels free to make her own decisions? It seems rather obvious to Jack that the man she truly looks to as a partner, both emotionally and in most of her endeavours, is John, not Gregory. It would seem like a more logical conclusion that his rose petal is being strategic in officially marrying the one she can control rather than her actually being in love with Gregory.
But maybe he is projecting now, in either case, he can tell that his run-away thoughts are showing on his face. Art is giving him that usual look, that look Jack has learned means that he’ll listen whenever Jack found his way back to the surface.
He should share with his best friend but at the same time, if Art’s hand on his shoulder gets any heavier from him being sleepy Jack will need to put his training to the test and see if he has any chance at all to carry Art to bed. Making just that quip to show that no, with Art at his side he might think about the situation but he’s not too distressed, Jack ushers the larger man back out of the kitchen and goes back to his original scheming.
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When Arthur hears voices from the kitchen, he’s torn between eavesdropping out of curiosity, and getting away before he’s noticed. There’s the deep rumble that is ‘Art’ (Arthur’s still not sure how to address him properly, he hasn’t actually introduced himself…), and Dr Seward’s lighter, cool tones, and really, Arthur doesn’t know what they’re doing in the kitchen this early, it’s not even dawn yet, what with it being November, and usually he has the castle to himself at this time of day.
Well, himself and Gregory, now that he doesn’t need to sleep anymore, or hardly needs to sleep, or however it works. Anyway, Arthur’s not keen on being social, and with those two, this early in the day. And then he hears Gregory’s voice, and he doesn’t sound cheerful, he sounds… defensive?
For a moment, Arthur considers being brave. That’s his best friend, he should probably go in there and support him if he’s having an argument or something.
But also, Gregory’s the social one, and Arthur’s really the wrong person in a verbal confrontation. And it’s way too early. And he catches Dr Seward’s voice mentioning Darcy’s name, and… no. If they’re having some kind of argument about Darcy, that’s none of his business. So he turns, and decides to head off outside to the stables instead- he can sneak out through the patio door from the solar so he doesn’t have to use the heavy, noisy front door. The stables ought to be safe. And the house can still give him a sandwich he can eat while watching the horses.
Unfortunately, it turns out the stables aren’t entirely safe, because while he’s spared any adults, Gregory finds him not long after, and he looks upset. He even sniffles when Arthur gives him an unimpressed look for his phony declaration that everything is fine!- Seward and Godalming ganged up on him! (Arthur concludes that ‘Godalming’ must be ‘Art’, probably his surname. Good to know.) He thinks Seward is having second thoughts about the marriage- he’s so proper and stuck up, he doesn’t like that Gregory is encouraging Darcy to not care so much about all the stupid rules and manners! He thinks Gregory isn’t good enough for Darcy, Gregory thinks…
Arthur bites back a groan- this is so none of his business! Plus, how is he at all qualified to advise someone about their relationship with their father in law? But Gregory is looking at him all searchingly, and… well, he is his best friend… But also… he feels a stab of disquiet in his chest. Darcy and Gregory are married. It’s done, that ship has sailed, and Arthur did remind him that marriage is forever, and Gregory did say he understood and that he was serious about it…
So, he tells Gregory it’s too late, anyway, for second thoughts. So he just needs to get over it. Because what else is there to do? And Darcy’s happiness depends on Gregory getting over it, not that Arthur says that part- well, he thinks it’s heavily implied enough.
Gregory doesn’t have much to say to that, and leaves soon after, so Arthur can only hope he’s taking that advice to heart. And now he can eat his sandwich and watch the horses in peace, and settle himself so that that unsettled feeling goes away again.
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Darcy stretches and yawns. Her drac does the same. Morning! Oh, waking up alone, there was something she did in the last mornings. Sniffing without thinking about it, groggy with sleep, there’s a faint smell of Papa and Daddy still in the air. Family, look after family… right! Need to check on Arthur. Her drac and her yawn again, bumble out of bed, meh, too early for two feet, better on four, and stick their nose to the ground to find Arthur.
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Arthur looks up from his book at the sound of claws on the floor out in the hallway. A moment later, a red-furred muzzle pokes the door open, wolf-Darcy trots into the library, jumps up on the sofa next to him, sticks her nose against his cheek, gives a questioning whine and a small lick. He blinks at her, surprised. “Um… good morning?” he offers, not sure what she’s asking about.
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She whines again. Why does he smell unhappy? It’s too early for this! Fluffing her fur up for him she leans into him, that helped with Daddy when he didn’t smell happy.
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He hesitates, but… but they were close like this in the cabin in the trap book, and she didn’t mind carrying him around as a wolf, so he dares to sling an arm around her shoulders and stroke her pelt on her shoulder a little- it’s so thick and soft, and she’s so solid, it’s nice to cuddle with her.
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Okay, better, he seems to like the cuddle, but now she still doesn’t know what upset him. She doesn’t want to, her drac and she are comfy like this, but maybe she should ask… in a little bit, just five more wolf minutes.
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Arthur can feel Darcy relaxing against him as she tucks her forehead against his shoulder, so he keeps petting her. And then she grows heavier and heavier, until she slumps down, across his legs, and… falls asleep. He’s pretty sure she’s asleep, her breath in soft, regular huffs and her ears in a relaxed droop. She’s not that light, but warm and fluffy and… well, it’s still nice, so he keeps his hand dug into the fur over her shoulder and returns to reading his book.
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The drac yawns, tongue getting stuck for a moment as it doesn’t pull it in fast enough. The world is… good smells. Okay, everything is fine. It cracks an eye open and stretches. It’s later. Good, the drac doesn’t like mornings. Mornings mean that night is over and that makes it sad. It wants to run and play with its night friends. But there’s a friend right here, it can smell him, so it wags its tail. Maybe Friend has food?
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Arthur smiles at Darcy as she stirs and yawns and sits up again. He’s not sure why she decided to have a wolf nap with him this morning, but… he doesn’t mind, either. And he knows that this is her usual time of getting up. (Which… it’s definitely not Gregory’s time of getting up, these days, so… so she wakes up alone? He shouldn’t be thinking about this, it’s none of his business, and he’s definitely not thinking about any… implications, but… but if he was married, he would assume that you’d do that sort of going to sleep and getting up thing together? Though, what does he know? Still, it strikes him as a bit… sad? It gives him another unsettled feeling, like that talk with Gregory this morning, so he pushes that away and focuses on Darcy instead. She looks like she’s in a good mood now, anyway, with the tail wagging and the perked ears.) “Um… what brings you here, anyway?” he asks.
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Friend brought it here, of course! So it puts a paw against his chest, tilts its head if everything is clear now and they can have breakfast.
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“Um…” Arthur looks at the paw on his chest, then back at Darcy. “…D’you mean you came to see me? Why? Is everything okay?” Maybe he shouldn’t ask… but somehow, Darcy being here makes him feel better.
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It narrows its eyes, that’s lots of words, lots of questions, it’s not so good with either of those. But it thinks Friend asked about being okay, and yes, now it is, Friend smells happier after all, so it barks its agreement and gives his cheek a lick.
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“…Okay,” Arthur says- he’s pretty sure that was a yes. “…You’re very… wolfish today?” He can’t say he minds, but he hasn’t really seen her be a wolf like this, outside of doing it with a purpose of some sort- fighting or tracking or something. Of course, if he could turn into a wolf, he thinks he’d probably also do it just for fun. It sounds like fun!
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Okay is a good word, the drac knows that! The other words don’t make so much sense and Friend doesn’t seem to have food, or does he? It begins to sniff around, oh, the table smells of food and hah, the house didn’t clean up everything yet. Score, there’s a crumb. It licks the table, even gets a bit of tea, too. Nice!
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Arthur blinks, then lets out a chuckle that’s slightly scandalized. “Darcy!” Licking the table? That’s… a bit unrefined, isn’t it? Really much more wolf-like than lady-like… “You could just turn back and ask the house for breakfast, you know?”
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Facing Friend again the drac tilts its head. Did it do something bad? It doesn’t want to be bad but it doesn’t understand.
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Arthur tilts his head, only realizing he’s mirroring her gesture after he’s done it. “Uh… Darcy?” She seems confused rather than embarrassed or mischievous or something. Which, in turn, is now confusing him. Unless… wait a moment. Now he remembers that she can forget herself in her animal forms. He should’ve thought of that- but they were running around with her in wolf form in the trap book a lot, and she never forgot herself, and… has this morning been longer than that?
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Yes, it’s Darcy! It thinks… but what about that? What does Friend want? It tilts its head the other way and nudges at Friend with its snout, maybe that will make him tell it what’s going on.
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“…Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting… really very wolf-like?” Arthur asks. Now he really starts to worry whether she fully understands him- she always has before.
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More words. More questions. It doesn’t know! And it lets him know that with a pout before going back to sniffing around the table. Maybe there’s more crumbs to be found because Friend isn’t helping with food and isn’t going with them to find food so this is silly.
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Arthur feels his stomach sink. She really is stuck, he’s almost sure. “Uh… can you turn back? Could you turn back, just for a moment?” he asks, hoping for the best.
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The tone in Friend’s voice sounds worried, it doesn’t like that, so it gives up on hunting for crumbs and jumps back up on the sofa to cuddle Friend.
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“Um, that’s nice,” Arthur says to the clear attempt to comfort him, “but really, could you… turn human-shaped for a moment?”
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Why isn’t it working? It worked before! The drac whines confused and tries if licking Friend’s face might work better.
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“Thanks, but…” Arthur puts a gentle hand on Darcy’s snout and pulls his face away, “…are you stuck? Can you not turn back? That… that’s bad, right?”
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Bad? Friend said bad! It knows that word. It hates that word. And Friend doesn’t want licks. Oh no, what did it do? It immediately turns and shows belly, it didn’t mean to be bad! Please don’t be angry, Friend!
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Now Darcy seems upset? That doesn’t look like she just wants a belly rub. “Sorry?” he offers. “Just… can you understand me? I’d like to properly talk to you? Human you? Girl you?” he tries.
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It’s so confused. More questions! More words! It doesn’t do words so well, but Friend doesn’t seem angry, so it sits up and focuses on Friend’s face. Concentrating, it thinks it has some memory of looking at somebody’s face might help, which feels silly, smell is for understanding things, but it will try really hard for Friend!
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At least she is definitely listening to him, and… trying to understand? “Darcy,” he tries to say intently, to remind her. “Two feet? Hands?” He offers his own hands in demonstration, holding them up in front of himself.
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Touch? Is that what Friend wants? It puts both paws against his and looks back at his face. Something is scratching at the back of its mind. Something about this feels familiar, but, wait, this isn’t quite right! It wants to be good, do it right, and it thinks it remembers that its left paw, yes, yes, not against his hand, up against his shoulder. It shifts position and smiles, yes, right!
That’s how you hold your hands for waltzing and has she ever danced with Arthur? Why hasn’t she? Oh, because when would they, but now she’s here with her hands in the right position and she can’t remember how she got here but maybe he asked? Was she explaining it to him and zoned out? “Sorry, where were we, Arthur-dear?”
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Arthur blinks as the paw against his hand morphs into fingers and a palm, then gives her a relieved smile. “You’re back! Um… you were a wolf? I don’t know how much you understood, I was kind of worried that you were stuck?”
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“Uh…” She knows that isn’t a very good response, but the last thing she remembers is waking up and wanting to check up with him, she thinks. She’s not entirely sure why, but it felt important at the time. “So why was wolf-me explaining dance positions to you?”
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He blinks at their hands… and then realizes Darcy is probably still wearing her night clothes, because that dress is a lot looser than normal day-wear dresses, and blushes. “I, uh… I don’t think you were? I, uh… I was trying to remind you of having hands…?”
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His blush makes her blush and, oh no… she can’t remember anything much after waking up and she realises she can’t feel any corset on herself, but if she’s freaking out about that then Arthur is probably going to freak out about that. She doesn’t want to make it worse, and they were in the cabin together, and he probably knows she’s a harlot anyway and… and, she doesn’t want to cry about that, he doesn’t do well with that, so instead she forces a smile, hopes the giggle isn’t slightly hysterical and tries to make light of it.
“That’s rude of wolf-me.” Adjusting her hands on his shoulder and in his hand (yeah, that blush isn’t going anywhere), she advises him. “This is how it really should be, but your right hand should be over here on my side.”
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“Um, wolf-you wasn’t rude, just, I think, a bit confused…” His cheeks sting with heat, but he puts his hand onto her side like she directs. Then he realizes: “…Oh, no, I haven’t practised any dancing for the wedding yet! I forgot! What if I forget all the steps?”
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Right, that dreadful official wedding, she doesn’t want to think about it, but at least with this one thing she can help. Make him feel better, even if she doubts she can feel better about it. “We can practise together.” Slowly standing up without taking her hands away, Darcy smiles as she pulls Arthur along. “They’ll all look at me anyway, so please don’t be worried.”
“I just don’t want to mess anything up, because… well, that would look bad for you…” he admits, shyly, as he follows her.
“I trust that you’ll do your very best, Arthur-dear.” With another smile she tries to feel as confident as she hopes she sounds. And really, John is going to be there, too, to support her. And all Gregory has to do is to say ‘I do’, nothing more, no vows. Well, and draw his signature on the contract, he’s been whining about that, letters are so hard, but she keeps trying to teach him. But Arthur, no, she’s not worried about Arthur. So she feels calm when she starts explaining the dance steps to him again. Noticing that he remembers anyway, she starts to slowly move while telling him how to lead her.