Chapter 4
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 3
Arthur startles when his door opens, then relaxes when it’s just Gregory- then tenses again, because he remembers… about Gregory now.
Gregory gives him his usual bright smile, holds out an envelope and waggles it.
“The nice lady said Darcy sent this. What’s it say?”
Arthur frowns in confusion- Darcy sent them a letter? Then he sees the address on the front of the envelope, carefully printed, and realizes the misunderstanding. He swallows.
“It’s not for us. It’s for a Dr. Seward in London. That…” He glances up at Gregory. “That’s got to be her father?” He frowns. “What are we supposed to do with it?”
Gregory shrugs. “Dunno. The nice lady just put it under the door, she had to leave or something.”
…Did she now?
He looks at the letter again. Are they meant to send it? How would they go about it? …Probably there is a post office in the town.
Arthur considers their options.
They could go post the letter. It’d be a good excuse to get out of here… if they need one. He isn’t sure whether they could just leave? But even if they could, where would they go? They have no money, they’re somewhere in the country, he has no idea where, how far away London even is- not that he could go back to London. He shudders. That’d be the first place his father would look for him…
He feels a pang for his room. He wants his room, where he knows every floorboard and crack in the plaster, and where it’s just him and Gregory, where he has his books, where he’s safe.
Instead, he’s in this big, fancy castle for a reason he doesn’t understand, with a blood-drinking noble girl who’s upset with them- and writing her father.
He bites his lip. “We can’t send this- if her father goes to the police… We ran from Prince James, they know we were with her, they’ll know where we are and arrest us for kidnapping and, and, the prison break and everything…”
Gregory looks surprised. “We didn’t kidnap her- we were just helping!”
“And you think her father is going to see it that way? She’s a noble girl, Gregory! She’s not supposed to be alone with us!”
“But we didn’t do anything!” Gregory exclaims.
“Like that’s going to matter,” Arthur shoots back.
Gregory rolls his eyes. “Nobles are stupid. Anyway, I’ll protect you!”
And get himself killed… again? “Thanks,” he mutters.
“Of course!” Gregory beams, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and Arthur sighs. If only… if only he could be sure that this is Gregory, sure down to the marrow of his bones, and let himself be cheered up. Instead, doubt gnaws at him, every moment of every day. Is Gregory acting like himself? If Gregory got powers, would he… would he be this unconcerned?
Of course he would be. He’s always protected Arthur, he’s always cheered him up, he’s always been on his side- the only one who ever was. The only one who ever cared.
“Thanks,” he says again, more sincere this time.
He isn’t sure whether this really is Gregory, or whether it’s something else pretending to be Gregory- he can’t tell.
“Anyway,” Gregory declares. “We just won’t send it- don’t want the police to know where we are! So you don’t have to worry,” he assures Arthur.
Arthur sighs- yeah, like that’s going to happen. And he feels a bit bad about it, but… no, they can’t risk sending it. So he hides the letter in the drawer of the desk in the room.
~~~~
And he’s just about done with that when there is a loud shriek from somewhere. Gregory gives Arthur a wide-eyed look, and then runs off.
Once again, Arthur finds himself in the situation of having no choice but to run after him. If there’s something bad going on with this castle, if it’s a trap of some sort, he doesn’t want to stay behind by himself, get separated!
By the time he arrives at a door, it’s to more upset noises from inside and Gregory ducking out of the way of a flying inkwell. On reflex, Arthur catches it before it can smash and make a big mess.
“She’s upset and she still won’t talk to me,” Gregory tells Arthur, who… yes, can still see that.
“Maybe we should leave her alone, then,” he suggests. Whatever made her scream, it can’t have hurt her too much if she’s throwing inkwells at Gregory, he thinks.
“But she’s upset!”
“And us being here is only upsetting her more, so come on.” Arthur snags Gregory’s sleeve, and pulls him away from the door. Gregory keeps throwing looks at it, but lets him.
Arthur puts the inkwell down on a random side table standing around with some porcelain elephant on it.
“Did she… er, seem okay?”
“I don’t know, she ran behind one of those fancy screen things.”
Arthur decides that that sounds like she’s okay enough, looks around.
Whether Gregory takes that as a cue, or just has the idea, he exclaims: “Come on, let’s go explore!” He grins at Arthur, that bright, excited expression. “A real castle, Artie! We’re in a real castle!”
Arthur supposes it is a little exciting- and they may as well know the lay of the land, so he follows along as they head down corridors and poke their heads into doors.
It doesn’t look like there’s anyone else around- everything is fancy and neat, but there’s a faint layer of dust in the rooms as they move further away from the section that they are in.
They find their way back to the entrance hall, and this time Arthur notices the paintings lining the wall alongside the top turn of the stairs. The stairs sweep up in a wide curve from below to a landing, then split in two to run up to a short gallery and the openings of corridors further into the house.
“That’s a pretty lady,” Gregory says in approval of one painting that’s right at the landing- clearly an important one. Arthur heads down the stairs to join him, while Gregory tilts his head. “Doesn’t she totally look like the girl?”
Arthur has to admit that she does. She’s blonde, but her face is similar, more round than long, and the woman also looks fairly small. For all her claws and fangs, the girl from the prison isn’t very tall or big.
And then Gregory reaches out and heaves the painting off of the wall.
“What are you doing?” Arthur exclaims, looking around to see if someone noticed that.
“Taking it to her- maybe seeing it will cheer her up!- Oh, hey, there’s something stuck to the back of it!” Gregory sets the frame onto the floor- not particularly careful with it, either, and reaches down to pull an envelope from somewhere. He hands it to Arthur. “What’s it say?”
The paper is rich and heavy, not the cheap kind, a little yellowed with age. The name on the front is written in a jagged, spiky script it takes him a long moment to decipher.
“It’s to a Lucy West…enra…? I think? Something-Castle… Ross…more? in… Whitley?” He turns the letter, finds a notation who it’s from… and tilts his head. “I think this says… Dr Seward?”
Gregory gives him a puzzled look.
“Like Dr Seward, the girl’s letter was just addressed to?” Arthur prompts.
“Oh!” Gregory says, face brightening. “Cool! What’s it say?”
Arthur gives him an offended look. “I’m not reading someone’s private letter!”
Gregory huffs. “It’s old, anyway!”
“Still!” Arthur insists.
“Fine,” Gregory concedes.
Arthur looks at the portrait. “Let’s bring her the letter instead of the portrait, okay? She can look at it on the wall, put it back.”
“We could just take it out of the frame, then it’ll be easy to carry!” Gregory suggests, and Arthur gives him a look. The frame is gilded, and he’s pretty sure portraits are expensive!
“Put it back!”
Gregory rolls his eyes again. “Fine, if you think so.”
“Yes, I do!” Arthur says, strongly, and breathes a sigh of relief when Gregory manages to get the portrait back on its hook.
~~~~
When they arrive back at the door- Arthur’s pretty sure it’s the right door, Gregory looks at him, shrugs, and then pushes the letter under the door.
“We found some cool stuff!” he yells through the door.
~~~~
Why should she care about them finding something cold? Why should she care about anything these terrible young men do? But… Darcy’s eyes are violet and she didn’t wake back up in her room and everything is just terrible so she pouts but looks over. A letter?
Still suspicious she walks over, then she recognises the handwriting and runs the last few steps. At first she hopes against hope that it’s already papa’s answer but no, the date on this is nineteen years old! Why is there an old letter from her papa here? Curiosity wins out so she checks, goes nearly immediately red in the face and crams the letter back into the envelope. Papa wrote love letters?! Peeking again, but only a little bit, she learns that it’s addressed to some Lucy Westenra in Whitby? Is… could that be her mother? She doesn’t know her mother.
~~~~
Outside in the corridor, Arthur feels silly just standing around, but he doesn’t know what else to do. What if the girl wants to talk to them now about the letter? It would feel rude to just leave, but he also feels awkward just hanging around outside her door.
Why can’t she just talk to them? That would make things so much easier. He knows they’re only poor East End boys, and that’s not how fancy people behave and everything, but… it’s just so impractical.
Someone clears their throat and he jumps, his heart hammering. He whirls around, to find a young man standing behind them. Arthur didn’t hear him approach, and clearly neither did Gregory, who turns from watching the door attentively.
Arthur swallows. The young man is… very pretty. And wearing a very fancy uniform. It’s white and has tassels and gold thread and things.
He’s also smiling, and looks friendly, and not like he’s angry to find two street urchins lurking around in his castle.
Gregory strides past Arthur, putting himself between him and the stranger, and grins boldly, says: “Hi!”
How he does that, act like he has every right to be where he is and never feel self-conscious, Arthur doesn’t know. But he’s glad to have Gregory between himself and the stranger.
The stranger introduces himself as Llew, Eluned’s brother, here to check in on them and the Lady Darcy, and to explain everything.
Arthur likes the idea of someone explaining everything.
Gregory introduces them (“I’m Gregory and this is Artie!”) and doesn’t look at all sheepish when Llew tells him he already knows.
Then Llew moves to the girl’s door, reaches for the door handle, then seems to remember himself and knocks.
~~~~
Still lost in wonder if this could really be a letter from her papa to her mother Darcy squeaks at the sudden knock on her door. What is she supposed to do? It’s probably those young men. Or is it the Lady Eluned, she so hopes it’s Eluned. “Yes?” Her voice sounds feeble in her own ears but when she hears a man’s voice answer she knows she becomes even smaller. Eluned’s brother, that’s still not proper is it? But that also means she’s in his house and just ignoring him would be rude.
She doesn’t really want to, she’s scared of what might happen if she talks of more people so she does what she was taught, she tries to get her etiquette right, rules are there to protect you. When she asks him to please enter her voice is a bit steadier but that doesn’t keep long because the man opening the door is, she blushes, he’s right out of a fairy tale! Oh, oh, maybe he is the protagonist of this story, and if she’s the heroine, doesn’t that mean she’s supposed to be charmed by him? Doesn’t that mean that maybe he’s her hero… her future husband?
Blush firmly in place she struggles to present the image of a proper young woman, all dignified neutral air, but he has other plans, strides over, bows and gives her a hand kiss. “Please, no formalities, I am your cousin after all!” That, definitely is too much, her poor sensibilities, and she faints.
~~~~
Arthur, watching from outside in the corridor, just about manages to snatch the back of Gregory’s shirt when he would’ve rushed into the room when the girl, Darcy, falls over. With some actual noble here, he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for them to barge in and probably show off how little idea they have about how to act with good manners and all that.
Llew (and that’s a strange name, just like the one of his sister, what was it… Eline or something? No, Eluned, he thinks- anyway, it doesn’t sound like an English name to him), in any case, catches her, and a few moments later she opens her eyes and blushes and he helps her back onto her feet. Then he offers her his arm, which she takes while she keeps blushing, and he smiles at Arthur and Gregory as well, announces that, wonderful, how about they all go out into the gardens to talk, tea is served in the gazebo.
So they follow him outside, Gregory eagerly and Arthur with caution.
They don’t leave through the main doors, but through some big glass doors, Arthur thinks that’s what you call French doors. They lead outside from a room full of couches that actually looks bright and comfortable, and there’s a stone patio outside the doors, and then a path of stepping stones that leads off over a lawn and between big bushes full of flowers. The air smells sweet from them, and they’re a riot of colours, yellow, white, red, purple, and Arthur finds himself liking this spot. The bushes make it feel sheltered, private and nice to look at.
The gazebo is a pale stone structure, a roof supported by pillars, open on its sides. Inside, there are soft pillows on the stone benches, and the promised tea spread over a table- sandwiches and cakes and fruit and in total, more food than Arthur has ever seen outside of a bakery display.
And he is aware that he still doesn’t know what’s going on, where the catch is, but… it’s food, and after the terror and worry of the day so far, he’s hungry.
And nothing bad seems to happen to Gregory when he digs in, at least not in the first few minutes.
So he follows suit, under Llew’s indulgent eyes.
~~~~
She’s happy enough to just follow the flow of conversation up until the point that Llew starts talking about mages, demons, and dhampirs. That much she could take as fanciful mysticism, she knows that séances are all the rage but does Llew have to make such grotesque statements about the people here. Arthur a mage? Gregory part-demon? And her a dhampir? Preposterous! But then he adds that her uncle, and worse, her papa, supposedly lied about her having a blood disease. How dare he?
Her papa would never lie to her! This is all nonsense! Why are the boys looking so uncomfortable at her? They can’t possibly believe this story! Gregory starts grinning all of a sudden because don’t vampires do this cool thing where they turn into bats?
She’s not a bat! And not a vampire, or dhampir, either! Turning to her cousin, who might be rude but he’s still her cousin so he ought to defend her honour Darcy goes pale when Llew confirms that, yes, she’s likely a bat. What? Why is she giving him that look? They’ll find everything they need in the castle, the hedge will protect them from both police and the Shiver, just as long as they’ll protect the castle of course. Why would he ask that of them? Well, they did accept his hospitality, it’s just customary, he has it all written out, Darcy can sign it later.
Sign? Now she’s only more confused but Llew gives her a beautiful smile. It’s alright, everything’s alright, he wouldn’t lie to her, well, okay, he did lie about being her cousin but how else was he supposed to get her to the fairy castle? He’ll see her later for the contract about the castle. He’s about to walk off with that smile but Darcy knows she’s ruined, utterly ruined, so she might just as well slap him. He has the audacity to walk it off, right into nothing as he melds with the hedge.
She sits down right on the spot, in the grass. She’s ruined, alone with men, insane men talking preposterous stories, and she took a fey’s hospitality; there’s nothing she can do! Tears start streaming down her cheeks; she doesn’t even care anymore that the boys can see her. She’s ruined. She was ruined the moment they kidnapped her from the safety of her room. She hates them, she hates Llew, she hates everybody but her papa and he’ll probably never find her here!
~~~~
Arthur isn’t sure that Llew’s explanation qualifies as explaining “everything”- but at least now it’s confirmed that there’s magic going on, that they’re here because he wants them to protect the castle, and the castle will protect them in turn. It doesn’t sound like too bad a deal, but Llew also mentioned fairies, and they have a reputation for tricking people. Gregory, though, seems to think it’s all fine and easily chats away with Llew… well, until Darcy gets upset, at least.
Arthur looks at her uncomfortably. He kind of gets being upset, but on the other hand… she doesn’t seem to be a very sensible girl, not even asking for evidence. Or giving any consideration to whether it’s at all safe to contact anyone about where they are.
And she slapped Llew- who didn’t seem to care at all, but Arthur remembers her fangs and her claws only too well, and he really doesn’t want to get attacked by an angry or hungry dhampir.
Gregory, on the other hand, tries once more to approach her, seems to think she’s scared more than angry, tries to coax her to talk to them again.
~~~~
Why does that Gregory think she is scared now? Why does he have to ramble on about them not hurting her? They already have! He’s not afraid of her? What does that have to do with anything? And the way Arthur is looking at her says volumes about how much of a lie that is. Just another lie. Everything out here is nothing but lies! She hates the world out here! She wants her papa. She wants her room. She wants for them all to vanish! Just about to storm off she stares as Gregory cuts his finger and holds it out to her with a smiled “See? Not scared.”
She wants to slap his hand away, that’s highly improper and wrong and what is he even thinking? Instead she finds her hand tight around his wrist and Arthur says something apprehensive like “uuuh… Gregory?”, and something feels different, her lips curl back, curl back from what feels far, far too large to be her normal teeth. She hates him but… that smells so good and he cut himself because of her, the least she can do is kiss it better.
Oh God, what did she just do?! The blood drop still fresh on her lips she hastily lets go of his wrist, stumbles back and turns to run off with a sob of being a monster.
~~~~
Well. That didn’t go so well, Arthur thinks as she vanishes into the hedges. Not fading into it like Llew did earlier, but with the sound of slapping footsteps and breaking twigs.
Gregory, though, is unconcerned. “I’ve got this!” he announces, turns into his cat form, and runs after her.