Chapter 65
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 64
They’re approaching from the side of the front door, so they don’t have to pass by the living room window, thankfully. Arthur pauses for a moment and looks up at the house- it’s so narrow, now that he’s used to looking at castles and what not. And shabby. The dark paint of the door is dusty, or sooty, or probably both, and peeling in places. He realizes he’s not even sure what colour the walls are supposed to be- they’re a murky grey that fits in with the rest of the neighbourhood. The window of his attic room is a small square of glass up under the eaves.
Arthur takes a deep breath- tells himself it’s to check for any new magic around. But there is none, which is good, right?
His heart pounds as he walks up the three worn steps to the front door and turns the handle- waits a moment, listening. Nothing stirs in the house. He pushes the door open, pokes his head in. Still no sound. Faint light filters through from the living room where the door is cracked open, illuminates the dust sifting through the little entrance hall. Behind the light, the staircase rises up along one side of the wall.
Still, there’s no sound of anyone, any movement, and so Arthur inches his way in, turns around to hold the door open for Darcy and tells her: “Please come in.”
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“I’ll check quickly!” She walks past him, turns rat the moment she’s fully inside. Sticking her head into the air, she sniffs as she scuttles about. Jumping up the stairs would be a bit of a struggle if she couldn’t jump so well and stick to the wood if need be. But that’s not the point here, what she notices is that there definitely hasn’t been much disturbance of the dust on the floor. That’s a mouse’s paw print on top of the stairs, but there’s no new human smell, and she doesn’t just want to explore without Arthur, so she flows back down the stairs as fog rather than going thump thump thump, she knows she’s trampley even on tiny rat paws. “I don’t think any human was in here in a while.”
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Arthur relaxes at her words, lets go of the doorknob behind him where he’d gripped it, ready for a fast escape, smiles at her. “Thank you for checking. Okay, um, do you want me to show you around?”
With a chirp she nods enthusiastically and reaches for his hand again. “I want to know about you and your life.”
That… is very unfamiliar. Arthur doesn’t think anyone else has ever been interested in his life. It makes his chest feel really warm, though, and he squeezes her hand a little. Not sure what else to do to express that that makes him happy, he instead shows her the house:
The living room, dusty and rarely used, with its few pieces of old furniture. The sofa is still askew, away from the wall, from the last time he and Gregory played in there- it must be years ago, now. Arthur used the sofa back to imagine he was riding a horse, he remembers. Down the hall, at the back of the house is the kitchen, where they nibbled on dry bread when times were bad and they were hungry, or feasted on fish and chips when they were flush. He lets Darcy peek out into the backyard, though it doesn’t hold much besides weeds and dirt and the outhouse.
He hovers in the doorway of his father’s study on the first floor- it looks just the same. The room in the house with the richest furnishings, the big desk of dark wood, the carpet that is dark red even through the dust, the shelf of books. Lots of books, he once thought, but now that he’s spending a lot of his time in the library of the castle… actually, it looks a bit forlorn.
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“You know, your father is really bad at interior design. This looks silly. Especially with that bedroom stuck on like that. I can make a better pillowfort than that,” Darcy offers with a little sniff and dismissive handwave as she sees Arthur’s hesitation, can smell that he isn’t quite comfortable.
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Arthur blinks, then starts laughing- it comes out a bit more like a nervous giggle than he’d like, but… but he doesn’t think anyone ever thought to consider his father’s sense of interior design, of all things. “Well, y’know, he’s a necromancer, I don’t think that’s a skill they teach in necromancy books…”
“But that’s silly! If I was a ghost getting ripped out from whatever ghosts do, I’d definitely be more willing to work with the necromancer if I get summoned somewhere nice. So those books he had clearly are just bad.” Nodding again, Darcy grins at Arthur. “I’m sure the ghosts would prefer your room.”
“I don’t know…” he says, but smiles at her, tugs at her hand to lead her up the last flight of stairs- the very steep and narrow flight of stairs, so he has to let go of her because they don’t both fit on there next to each other. “It’s up here,” he calls back as he gets up to the small landing under the slope of the roof, opens the door to his room and steps in.
It’s just as he left it. Bed to the right, little desk crammed under the window, bookshelf on the left.
It looks smaller than he remembers. He knew his bed was rickety, but he doesn’t remember the blankets being quite that thin and worn, the sheets that grey. Dust lurks in the corners and under the desk. The air is stale, but he still relaxes- it’s still familiar, still his, the place where he used to be as safe as it got. High above the street, away from the gangs and other children, safe from his father, who almost never came up here.
Just him, or him and Gregory, hiding away from the world and dreaming of adventures where they weren’t cold or hungry or poor.
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Giggling, Darcy puts her hand on the ceiling, she never gets to touch a ceiling, well, okay, unless she sticks herself to it, but this is different. “John would hit his head, good that we are the proper size for your little den. What’s your favourite thing? And also, is there anything we should take with us so you have it in your new room at the castle?”
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He looks around again. “Uh, yes, I didn’t remember it being this small… Um…” His favourite thing? What is his favourite thing? Maybe his copy of Treasure Island? The healing book? He’s got a clean copy of that now… He steps over to run his fingers over the worn cover of the healing book, still on his desk- this is the one he learned from, so he is fond of it. “I’m not sure what my favourite thing is… but maybe we could take some of the books?” He glances at the bed, at the worn teddy bear squished against the headrest- but that’s Gregory’s, he himself doesn’t have any stuffed toys, never did. And he has a real cat now, so that’s better, anyway.
Darcy follows his look and coos. “Oh, do you like stuffed toys? I could show you the ones I had. I could share them with you! And of course we can take all the books you want.”
“Oh, no, that’s Gregory’s,” he explains, smiles at her. “You already gave me Hannibal and Katharina- or, well, she kind of insisted herself, but… they’re way better than a stuffed toy. Um, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the ones you had if you want to show me,” he adds.
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“I couldn’t have pets when I grew up, but Papa noticed how much I like animals, so he often got me toys instead. I still have them…” Then she tilts her head instead of finishing the sentence. “If I had known Gregory likes them, I would have put them in our bed. He never told me.” Stepping closer to the bed, she carefully lifts the teddy bear up, notices that it could use some fixing and chews her lip. “I… I was bad to him earlier. I shouldn’t be a bad wife, maybe I can fix this for him to show that I… just, I was so angry.”
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“Um, yeah, I was pretty mad, too…” Arthur agrees. “I… Well, I don’t know about you being bad to him- it is better for everyone, him too, if he doesn’t run around while we figure out the situation. But, yeah, maybe he’d like the teddy bear? I think that would be really sweet of you, if I was him, I’d be happy you thought of it,” he offers, gives her an unsure smile.
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Hearing him say that, she begins to smile again. “Thank you! If you think so, then it must be right.” Still careful, she puts the toy into one of the pockets in her dress. She’ll have to sneak her work on it, but Gregory is so seldomly closeby that she doesn’t think it’ll be a problem. She can do that, and she can solve the problem Gregory caused, and then it will all be alright again. Or as alright as her gothic fairy tale ever gets, but she’s trying so hard.
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Arthur chuckles, a bit embarrassed. “I don’t know about that… I’m not always right, you know?”
He crouches down to pull out his collection of illicit fun reading from under the bed, picks out his three favourite books, Treasure Island among them, and then collects the healing magic book, too- so what if he then has two copies of it? He has the room for it in the castle, he can afford to be sentimental. …It’s nice to be able to afford being sentimental. He finds a piece of string to tie the books into a parcel for easier carrying, then nods at Darcy. “Okay, I think that’s all here.” He looks around the room again, feeling strange about leaving it behind, on purpose, this time.
“…I suppose this’ll all still be here if I get back… Unless the house burns down or someone realizes it’s empty and takes everything or something.” Really, the only reason he has ever gotten away with how the door isn’t locked, and how the house is empty when he and Gregory weren’t there, is because people were too scared of his father and any curses he might’ve left behind to bother with it. But it’s not like he has a key. Only his father ever did- probably still does…
She just shrugs at him saying he isn’t always right. He’s been right often enough, and she knows he tries really hard and well, he’s a man, he gets to be right when she’s wrong, that’s just how the story goes. Rather than focus on that, she giggles and offers to creep out of the house as fog around his feet so that he can look all ominous. Especially because people saw him go in with her, if he comes out alone, that’s going to make people think he’s scary!
…He doesn’t really think being a man makes him more often right than her… but he likes the fog idea! Especially because it’s not foggy outside. And they should probably get back and figure out how to deal with the blackmail problem, yes- she’s supposed to be delivering that money tomorrow morning, after all, they kind of have to know what they’re going to do before then.
“I can’t turn back in the sun so just vanish into a dark alley because I’m so terribly slow as fog… oh, or we could save on the cab fare like that!.” She’s still giggling at the thought, but instead first turns rat to run around his feet with a chitter, then turns fog after all.
“Plenty of dark alleys here- and I don’t know if a cab driver will pick me up if I have creepy fog floating around my feet, so better not.” He chuckles nonetheless at the idea, and heads out of the house. As he closes the door and heads down the stairs, he does his best to look like he doesn’t even notice the fog flowing around his legs, like this is totally normal, because he’s pretty sure snickering or laughing would spoil the effect. He definitely sees some shapes move behind the windows on the opposite side of the street, so the rumours will go around the area in no time at all.
A dark alley around the corner is easily found, and he manages to hold his laughter until he arrives.
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Turning human again, Darcy chimes right in and gives him a hug for good measure, too. Now they just need to get back to her fathers to solve that blackmail silliness, but she’s sure they’ll know what to do… And then, um, if he doesn’t prefer to do something with Gregory, of course, would he keep her company while she fixes the teddy bear?
Arthur tilts his head as it occurs to him: …Also, they have Lucy. Like, a real vampire. They really don’t have to be too scared about some impromptu blackmailers, do they? And, um… yes, he’d like that? He… well, he’s not sure what he’d do with Gregory, anyway…
“Well, whatever you two do when he always spends so much time with you.” Darcy’s still smiling, and adds how happy she is that their friendship is so strong. That’s what the stories say is important in a strong friendship between men, right, to not let a woman come between them.
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“Uh,” Arthur says, and feels very confused. “…So much time? But he’s spending most of his time with you? …I thought?” he adds, because why would Darcy say something like that if… if Gregory was spending most of his day with her?
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“I mean, before we were married, yes, he spent more time with me but… Well, since then, he remembered that he shouldn’t neglect his best friend and I agree with that, so I don’t mind that, um, well, he…” How does she formulate this without flustering Arthur? But she doesn’t want to lie, either, so she just says it: “Well, I mean, he must be down at breakfast with you when I wake up and then I do my wifely duties before I start working and then I see him during dinner and sometimes he stays a bit after that, but then heads back out, so he must be spending so much time with you apart from his knightly patrolling, right?”
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Arthur is so not going to think about any ‘wifely duties’ or when they might be happening, but: “Um… most days I see him at breakfast in the morning, yeah, but then he goes and, uh, I thought spends time with you? I see him for dinner, too, but, um, I mostly spend time in the library or the lab, and he thinks that’s boring…”
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“But?” Darcy wants to ask how that makes any sense because, no, she can’t believe that Gregory would be out so much working. She would have gotten more letters about her knight postulant if he was running mission after mission, wouldn’t she? With one long look at Arthur, she wonders: “Is London south, maybe south-east from the castle?”
Arthur tilts his head, not sure why she’s asking, but thinks back to the maps he’s seen. “South definitely, and yeah, probably a bit east as well, if I remember right…”
Closing her eyes to let herself into the safe darkness behind her eyelids, Darcy pets her drac and checks which way it is leaning before she asks Arthur while pointing: “You know the maps better. From here, is Daddy’s house in that direction?”
Arthur takes a moment to orient himself- if the river is that way, a few streets over, and Whitechapel Road is running behind them, then, yeah, Darcy is pointing westwards, towards Parliament and all the better parts of town, so he nods.
“I knew I could trust my drac.” Darcy sighs as she opens her eyes again. “Could I ask you to maybe, I don’t know, is there anybody here who you can check with if they’ve seen Gregory? Lately, I mean.”
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Gregory? Here? Darcy’s question about the directions and how she said the day before that she could feel Gregory give Arthur a certain suspicion of what she’s thinking. He wracks his brain about anyone he could ask, but… “Um, no, sorry,” he admits sheepishly. “The only person I ever really talked to was Gregory…”
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Suddenly overcome with stubbornness, Darcy squares her shoulders. “Are you too scared to ask around if you have your big dog with you? Only because you didn’t talk to people doesn’t mean Gregory didn’t. You knew which pub, is that the only one?”
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Arthur considers that- who would make trouble with him if he has Darcy in wolf shape by his side? Nobody really, he doesn’t think. And there’s two other pubs that he can think of that Gregory liked to hang around in… Possibly work out of, but he shoves that thought away quickly.
“…I guess I could do that. Though… should we maybe get the blackmail thing taken care of first? Like… the guys at Blaire’s didn’t seem to recognize me. If I start asking around about Gregory, people will realize, well, who I am. I’m probably being overly paranoid, but gossip travels fast around here, and, um, well… my father has a reputation, and by extension, I do too. So they might think that them blackmailing Gregory’s wife and then me coming snooping around shortly after is connected, and they might think I did something magical to maybe find out who it is? …Which, I mean, we kind of did?” He gives her an unsure look- is he being overly cautious?
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Darcy very nearly blurts out that it would be not the worst thing if they fear being cursed if they come after her, but then she remembers how scared Arthur is of his father and she probably would upset him with that thought, so she sighs and shakes her head. “No, you’re right, and really, it doesn’t matter. We’re married; I’ll just be a good wife then. Alright, let’s deal with the problem.”
Arthur frowns a bit. “…Are you sure? That it doesn’t matter? I was just thinking we see about this blackmailing thing first, and then we go ask?”
Looking down at her hands Darcy shakes her head again, not to convey anything, more to clear it. Why does she feel so torn back and forth between an urge to growl and… just give in? It feels foreign in the strangest way. “I… don’t know? But it’s probably alright. We have to go back to the castle soon, too. Thank you for showing me your old home and talking about it with me.”
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“Okay,” Arthur says, feeling unsure- he’s just no good at these social things, he doesn’t know what to do! Well… “Thank you for wanting to see it even though it’s, um… not very nice?”
“But it’s yours and that makes it important to me!” On that at least she’s sure. With a smile, she takes his hand in both of hers for a moment again to squeeze it, then turns wolf so they can get a cab.
Arthur gives her another smile, and then leads them back out onto Whitechapel Road for that cab. Again, he gets a bit of a look from the cab driver for Darcy’s presence, but Arthur thinks his nice clothes and the destination in the better part of town mean the man decides their money is good enough.
And not long after, they return from their ‘walk in the park’, to some clucking and fussing about the mud on their skirt and trouser hems by the maids. So it’s after a change of clothing, and armed with tea and scones to ‘chase off the chill’ that they get to talk to Art.