Chapter 50
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 49
Arthur purses his lips in concentration, his blush forgotten as he focuses on the steps and the movement and how it feels- and as he finds he remembers pretty much all the steps, it becomes actually rather fun.
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As he gets more confident in leading, Darcy finds herself giggling. This is fun! “House, could we please have music?” As the house obliges with a gramophone, Darcy squeals and smiles brightly at Arthur.
Arthur even grins back at her. “This isn’t so bad!”
“I always liked dancing with Papa! Dancing is fun.” Then she realises she’s barefoot and her grin goes slightly mischievous, there was this thing her mother had suggested for her to train her wall climbing even more, and well, Arthur is so much better at dancing than Gregory and Arthur also wouldn’t just want to do something else, so maybe? “Are you up for a little challenge?”
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“…What kind of challenge?” he asks, but more curious than apprehensive. If Darcy didn’t even snap a little at him when she was all wolf-brained, clearly she’s not going to let him get hurt when she has all her faculties together.
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“I have this power that makes me able to walk up walls; do you think we can dance up the wall?” Does she feel a little bit shy about asking him? Yes. But he said she was all wolfed out and she can’t remember a thing, plus he let her bite him in the cabin but he’s still dancing with her, so maybe he won’t be scared of her for showing again that she’s a dhampir.
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He looks at the walls, then back at her. “Up the wall? I won’t be able to walk on it, but… let’s do it.” He blushes, and chuckles, a little nervously. It sounds intriguing, but maybe he’ll be all awkward and they’ll fall off- but it’s not like he can’t heal any bruises or even broken bones if they do.
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With a chirped ‘thank you!’ she tries to figure out how to best do this, has to readjust her grip on him to more hold him than hold on to him, tells him to grip on, too, then with one more excited giggle sets her feet on the wall: First one, then the other as she pulls Arthur along. Another few steps, and they are sideways. She ends up having to dance underneath him so she can keep him upright and that’s really very close but also, they are dancing up the wall! It worked!
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Arthur laughs, excited, does his best to still do his steps even without any twirls. “This is so weird!” he exclaims with a grin. “So cool! I guess I’m ready for most anything now…”
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“Does that include the ceiling?” Darcy giggles and has to consciously stop herself from bouncing on her heels. That might end in disaster.
He blinks. “You can walk on the ceiling, too? How does that even work?” Then his grin returns. “…Alright, let’s try it!”
While she tells him that she doesn’t know, she just sticks, she carefully lifts her heels a little bit, one by one, and sticks her nightgown to her feet to show him and so this doesn’t get really embarrassing fast. Then she grins and well, they are so terribly close already anyway, Arthur didn’t seem to mind, so she puts her arm fully around him, switches to holding his wrist, not his hand, and, giggling nonstop, dances them up to the edge of the ceiling.
Oh dear, she’s leading, isn’t she? But it’s to keep Arthur safe, so that’s alright! And it feels so very nice that he’s trusting her! She can feel his weight slip off her body and fully into her arms as she takes the steps but, yes, she can hold him, so her giggling turns into full laughter. “It works! Are you dizzy?”
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He holds on tightly to her- the shift to her leading takes him a moment to adjust to, but it’s her feet that stick to the ceiling while he’s busy just pushing his legs up and back straight so his lower body doesn’t tilt over. “Not yet,” he says with a laugh that comes out closer to a giggle than he intended. “But probably soon… On the other hand, there’s less picture frames or bookshelves for us to trip over here.” He laughs again at how silly that statement seems, while being perfectly true.
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“I better look out for the chandelier!” Darcy giggles right back, not minding at all that she’s giggling and her fangs have popped out because she’s feeling very alive. Her mother has explained, after a few looks inside her mind, that that’s apparently just a dhampir thing, it doesn’t mean she’s about to do anything.
“Probably we shouldn’t step on the chandelier,” Arthur agrees. “It looks even fancier from up close like this… Wouldn’t want to make the house mad.”
Darcy knows better, the house is very sweet. Really, the house understands and cares for her. Not wanting to let anything ruin her good mood, Darcy makes sure not to get too close to the chandelier, but still dances around it, which puts her back to the door just as it opens.
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Maybe he’s hallucinating, but Art could swear he woke up from footsteps from below. How does that even make sense? He probably is just too sleepy, but he only just found a family, he worries. Worries enough to crawl out of bed. Right, not bed, worse, out of coffin. That is more of an ordeal than he thought, but then he’s an uncoordinated disaster even when he wakes up in his own bed in the middle of the night, or morning now. At least all he had to do was throw a robe over his nightshirt and fumble around on the floor until his feet hit the slippers he is pretty damn sure Jack placed there for him.
Anyway, he’s still yawning, but he thinks he can hear music from the library, so he’s checking there first. Nobody seems to be in. Hallucinating after all? Wait, moving shadows? Damn! For just a moment he starts to really worry, he was too sleepy to have his brain together and grab any weapons. Looking around in alarm, the sudden feeling of dread evaporates as he gazes up to the ceiling. At least it does after he rubs his eyes to make sure he’s seeing right. No, that’s his sugar doll waltzing on the ceiling, in her nightgown… and that’s not her engaged. Uh huh.
Art starts laughing, only harder when Darcy eeps, clearly caught out, and does a damn impressive little somersault off the ceiling to put Arthur, he thinks Jack said that one’s name is Arthur, down on the floor again. Still laughing, he walks over and ruffles her hair. “You’re so much your mother’s daughter!” Winking at Arthur, he waggles his eyebrows at Darcy, then yawns again and tells them to not let themselves be disturbed, he’ll fall back into bed.
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Arthur… really doesn’t know what just happened. Well, Lord Godalming walked in on him dancing with Darcy, on the ceiling, obviously… but doesn’t seem at all upset or weirded out or something? Even though they apparently woke him up? Somehow, he ended up half hiding behind Darcy when the man walked over, because he is large, but then he only ruffles Darcy’s hair. And he has no idea what that comment means- though he wouldn’t put dancing on the ceiling past Lucy, that’s true.
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As her daddy walks back out, well, kind of shuffles, Darcy finds her eyes stuck on his legs for a moment. How is that fair? He already has such a nice beard and then he’s also nicely fuzzy all over? Does that smell and feel as nice as his beard? Distracted by that for a few very long moments, she finally catches up to what he said and starts blushing furiously, manages a “Not Arthur!” but her daddy is already out of the room, so that didn’t help with anything, leaving her giving Arthur unsure side-glances.
Arthur looks at her in confusion. “…Not me what?”
“Well, you’re not…” Maybe he doesn’t know, maybe he doesn’t think of her as a harlot yet after all, she doesn’t want him to start now, so she stops herself at the last second and instead ducks her head. “I mean, well, my mother and Papa and Daddy… and we were dancing and I think Daddy now thinks that, well…”
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Arthur’s mind is still on the whole dancing on the ceiling business, and Darcy’s mother, and… “…That you have powers like your mother…?” Well, no, that doesn’t quite make sense in context, and of course Lord Godalming used to be a hunter and hated vampires, but he got over that and he didn’t seem mad… Arthur feels like this should really be obvious, but somehow, he doesn’t get it.
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Sitting down and hiding her face behind her hands, Darcy wishes she could just leave Arthur with that understanding, but then Gregory is going to tease him and tell him later, and she doesn’t want to be that bad for Arthur, so she puts her hands back down and just tells him. “That you and Gregory are to me like Papa and Daddy are to my mother.”
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Arthur blinks twice, rapidly, then his mind, very reluctantly, it feels like, points out what Darcy means, and he feels himself blushing again- while a shivery, cold touch of discomfort worms its way through the rest of his body. “But… but…!” he stutters, “But no! Why would he…?”
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“Because he’d be right if he’d seen me with John…” Darcy’s brain unhelpfully offers but then shoves it away, Daddy doesn’t mind. Her mother is apparently a harlot and her daddy loves Lucy very much, so he wouldn’t mind with her, he was laughing and ruffling her hair, no, Daddy isn’t like that. And if Daddy doesn’t mind and Papa doesn’t mind, then it must be okay.
But that’s all not so important right now; something is telling her that Arthur isn’t doing so well. Reaching her hands towards him, she scoots to give him space on the sofa.
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Arthur takes the offered seat, grateful because his knees feel a little weak, and he doesn’t think it’s all from holding his legs up over his head. Darcy and John? Is that… any of his business? Probably not. Gregory seems to like John, though he’s not sure what John thinks about Gregory- he’s always so grumpy it’s hard to tell. For Arthur, at least. And… and most of all, Darcy wouldn’t do something like that, wouldn’t cheat, so she and Gregory must have some sort of agreement. No, he decides, this is complicated social stuff, that’s for Gregory to deal with.
He’s too busy not liking being… implicated in any of it. “But… but I don’t even… like any of that sort of stuff…” he mumbles. He doesn’t really want to talk about it, maybe shouldn’t share it, but… but Darcy shared something personal, so it feels unfair to not… say something at least.
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“That sort of stuff? Oh, I’m sorry; you seemed to like the dancing! Why did you say it’s fun when you don’t like anything romantic?” Her hand on his, where she held it gently to reassure him, pulls away, she didn’t mean to be bad for him, but she clearly did after all, and it makes her sad. She thought they had gotten a bit closer during the cabin but she probably should just keep her distance.
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That pulls him out of his discomfort enough to give her a confused look. “No, I liked the dancing, but… but that’s not romantic! …Is it?” He wrinkles his nose. “We’re… I mean, we’re friends. You’re like… my sister in law. It’s friendly dancing, not… not romantic dancing?” He blushes. “…Right?”
Now she’s giving him that confused look right back. “Yes, of course. You… I’d like to be your sister in law. But you don’t mind friendly things, you’re Gregory’s friend, but you just got really uncomfortable and said you don’t like any of that sort of stuff so I thought you must mean romantic, because you clearly don’t mind being friendly. I think I’m confused now.”
“Um, I mean, I guess…” He feels his blush returning, and the discomfort, squirms a bit in his seat as he tries to figure out how to put it. “I don’t like any of the… um… what married couples are only supposed to do when they’re married kind of things…?” He gives her a helpless look, hopes that tells her what he means.
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For just a moment Darcy wants to sigh, she thought like that, too, only a little while back but Gregory doesn’t agree and he’s the man, all the stories say that the man knows better, so she must have been wrong, but that’s not the important part. Poor Arthur is uncomfortable and maybe she can help, so she dares take his hand again. “It doesn’t have to be bad.” She remembers how it feels different with John and smiles. “It can be affectionate like a hug. You like hugs, I think.”
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“I do like hugs,” he agrees. “Hugs are nice. But that other stuff…” He wrinkles his nose, this time in distaste rather than confusion. “I don’t get it,” he admits. “I don’t get why everyone’s always so… obsessed with it. It… sounds gross,” he mutters, back to blushing, avoids her eyes in case she’s offended.
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She doesn’t like that he thinks she’s gross, it makes her sad, but she shakes her head. “When there’s nothing to it, maybe? But when…” Why did that first sentence there give her a pang of worry for a moment? No, she needs to explain this to Arthur; he wouldn’t talk to her if he didn’t think she could say anything, right?
So she thinks about it, about how with Gregory, well, um, she can be a good wife, and with John it’s like little prickles all over her skin when he makes her feel good, because she can tell how much it means to him to be able to do that. She loves to be able to give him that sense of security in himself. And there’s nothing gross about that! No, it’s one thing if Arthur thinks she might be gross, but she won’t have him think that about John.
“But when you are close to that person, emotionally close, it’s all about making each other feel good, also make you feel good with and in your bodies, and wanting to be even closer to each other. Maybe one day you’ll meet somebody you want to be closer to than hugs allow.”
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“…Maybe,” he says dubiously. “I mean… Gregory always says I’ll understand when I’m older… Even though he’s said that for ages. And…” He blushes harder, stares at his shoes rather than her. “And, well, I might’ve, once, um… tried out something he said was supposed to feel great and… and it was still gross and I didn’t like it… Maybe I’m just weird somehow…”
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But Arthur is always so shy around people; she didn’t think he’d… oh… Oh! She raises a hand to her face as a blush creeps into her cheeks. Wait. No! No, she won’t be bad for him and let him think something so mean about himself. With a stomp of her foot she shakes her head vehemently and puts both her hands on his. “No, you are not weird at all! It’s very different alone. I don’t like it either!”
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Arthur squirms again in his seat, because this conversation really cuts far too close, brings up memories he really doesn’t want to think of, that twist of chilling, nauseating ‘no!’. Plus, “This is a really inappropriate conversation,” he mutters, half in a bid to get some mental distance to the topic.
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“Maybe…” Darcy worries that she is making it all worse but she likes that they are actually talking about their emotions for once, so she continues, “maybe I care more about your wellbeing than propriety. Thank you for telling me, thank you for dancing with me, thank you for saying I’m your sister-in-law. I don’t want to make you feel bad, but please don’t say there’s something wrong with you, there isn’t. And if you never want to hug somebody that closely then that’s up to you and nobody can make you. At least not while I can protect you. You’re my scholar, part of my noble household, remember?”
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Her words make a warm sensation bloom in his chest that chases away some of the discomfort, and he slants a shy sideways glance at her. “…You’ll protect me from, um… people flirting with me?”
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She didn’t think he’d go so far as to make that specific request, but it just has her giggling and straightening up. “It’s on the honour of my household who marries my closest staff… or something like that. I’m sure I can come up with something; everybody’s going to think terrible things about me anyway. Everybody is going to gossip about me. If they end up gossiping that I’m too close and protective over you then… then fine! Let them! You feeling better is more important than my reputation.”
That makes Arthur scowl. “But they shouldn’t gossip about you and think terrible things- they don’t know you!” Then he dares a little grin. “But I guess if they get too rude about it, you can always challenge them to a duel… I mean, I’d do it, but we already know you’re much better in a duel- less squishy.”
Her eyes go huge. “Arthur-dear, that is so sweet of you! You would duel for me!” She hugs him tight and beams, but then nods. “Yes, leave the duelling to me, it’s beneath you… and I might need you to concentrate on nobody noticing that I can’t aim to…” A giggle interrupts her before she starts grinning, “I can’t aim to save my life!”
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“I totally would duel for you!” he confirms, then tags on, sheepish: “If I was any good at it. And don’t remind me… Um, maybe you could learn how to aim? That would make things a lot less nerve wracking…” He cautiously leans into the hug a little. She’s not a wolf now, so he’s a bit more self-conscious about cuddling, which… well, really, is kind of silly. She’s still the same person, after all.
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“John likes guns. I’ll go ask him after breakfast and work to help me with the ones we have in the castle rather than just always playing in the dreamscape. I don’t want to worry you, and I guess I am that kind of scandalous baroness who might need to fight more duels.” After just a moment of hesitation she runs her hands up and down his back.
“I mean… better be prepared for a duel that doesn’t happen than unprepared for one that does?” he offers, relaxing some more under her touch and now that they’re off the previous topic.
She’s just about to answer when her belly rumbles loudly and she chuckles. “I guess right now I should prepare for breakfast rather than duels.” Letting go of him, she squeezes his hand once more while getting up.
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“…Wolf you did seem rather hungry, what with licking the crumbs off the table,” he says, before he realizes that maybe it would’ve been more tactful to not mention that.
First her eyes go large, then she starts squeaking high-pitched, then starts running, but right before she is out of the room she turns to yell at him. “That goes on the list!”
He laughs as he calls: “Understood!” after her. Then he gets up to return to his book- but despite the uncomfortable turn the conversation took there for a bit, he finds himself feeling curiously light and in a good mood. Maybe because Darcy said she’d protect him. He believes her, he decides, and he likes that.