Chapter 85
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 84
Eating breakfast in bed is very strange- possibly even stranger when the bed is Darcy’s couch and rather than sitting at a table together, John is sitting on Darcy’s bed and she’s still sleeping. But in a way, it’s also… nice.
Not something you do together with people you don’t know well.
Okay, maybe this started out awkward, but by now John’s downright comfy. Arthur hasn’t questioned him being in Darcy’s bed a single time and he’s also not made any statements questioning whether John would protect them. He just feels so fucking validated right now that he relaxes a little bit and chuckles, tells Arthur to watch this, and grabs a piece of bacon to dangle over Darcy’s face.
Even underneath the blanket, her soft snoring changes rhythm, turns into obvious loud sniffing, and a moment later, Darcy digs her face out from underneath the blankets, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and trying to hone in on the meat as John moves it side to side.
Arthur bites back a snort of laughter and claps a hand over his mouth, because… because that’s hilarious. He can all but see Darcy’s wolf shape in the way her nose follows the scent of the food. That impression gets no better when she snaps her teeth shut around the bacon and gives a tiny growl as she pulls it out of John’s fingers and he’s tugging against her.
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Chuckling all the while, John calls her a good drac as she chews contentedly, face leaned on him again, now. “If you want more, you’ll have to wake up properly. No, no whining for five more minutes.”
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“Well, it was really late last night…” Arthur points out. Also, now he remembers Dr Seward’s talk about proper diets and eating vegetables, and decides that probably the man does in fact know Darcy well enough to have a good point. Well, not for breakfast, vegetables aren’t breakfast food. …Are they? Some people have fried mushrooms, Arthur supposes, and wonders whether those count.
“As if she doesn’t pull that line every morning.” John grins as Darcy sits up groggily, rubs at her eyes, but then realises that Arthur is there when her nose gets far enough away from the food to notice the rest of the room. “Good morning, Arthur-dear. Are you alright?”
Arthur gives her a smile. “Good morning. Yes, I’m fine. Well, I’m hoping for an earlier night tonight, but otherwise fine. Are you okay?”
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Looking from her arms still around John to Arthur on her sofa, Darcy finds a warm, soft buzz in her belly, not the one from last night but lovely nonetheless. It makes her chirp as she nods vigorously.
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Arthur feels his smile widen because, yes, she looks like she’s okay. “I’m glad! So… join us for breakfast?” He chuckles, because that’s a bit of a weird question to ask when they’re already in the same room.
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Of course Darcy does, this is so nice! She likes having them here, so when John tells her that the plan for at least the near future is to not split up so they can be sure to keep an eye on each other, she chirps again, tells them she always wants to look out for them!
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Arthur tells her he appreciates that- but they also want to look out for her, it was her the vampire or dhampir or whatever it is targeted… He trails off, his own words catching up with him. …Or it could be someone or something else trying to frame a vampire? Like, leaving some blood on her neck is… well, either sloppy or on purpose, isn’t it? He remembers from her biting him before, there wasn’t anything to see.
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Crossing her arms, she starts pouting. “It being meanie humans seems way more like it! What… what if it was hunters? Maybe somebody on daddy’s staff is suspicious.” She gestures at her hair then scratches at the dried blood on her neck, licks at the stuff under her nails while pulling a face. Old blood is so very gross and really hard to figure out. She tilts her head one way and the other. “I… think there is maybe some of mine there but… not all of it.”
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“…You can taste that?” That’s rather amazing, Arthur thinks. “And it’s a consideration. It doesn’t explain you not remembering anything, but maybe they have some sort of spell? …Sorry, I should’ve checked if I could smell any magic on you, I didn’t…” he realizes.
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“But what if I can’t remember anything because there was nothing? Maybe they drugged my water, too, and opened the window and put this on my neck so it all looks bad.” Darcy counters, still pouting because she felt good and she refuses not to tell Arthur. “Up until Gregory shook me awake I felt really peaceful and happy!”
Arthur nods slowly. “It’s possible. I don’t know how dhampirs would react to whatever the girl’s water was drugged with. Do you remember having any water? Suddenly feeling tired?”
“There was a pitcher next to my bed. I think I sipped some and I remember sitting on the sofa but then I woke up there so I must have fallen asleep on it. Wouldn’t I go to bed normally? I was fully dressed, too.” Nodding Darcy thinks that’s far more likely, then realises what that might mean, hunters… hunters after her and that makes her whimper.
Not for herself, but for her papa. He tried to protect her from them his whole life, so they must be really bad. And if they’re really bad, what if they get her? She looks at Arthur, looks at John, and starts to shudder. “What if it’s hunters and they get me and then I can’t protect you and I can’t give you a home anymore and I don’t want that!”
“Hey, hey, culver. Slow down. We won’t let them get you,” John tries to console her.
Arthur nods strongly. “We can handle hunters! They’re humans, they’re a lot easier to fight than vampires, and you’re way stronger than their dhampirs! And even if there’s a lot of them, we have a magical castle- castles are good for defending yourself in! We’ll keep each other safe!”
“We only have the castle because I’m baroness! Me. With the blasted contract.” She waves her wrist about, the bracelet back on it now that she’s in the castle, close to that nexus, she thinks. Her dogtag from Eluned. With a growl, she narrows her eyes, because she will do her duty, no matter what! Fixing John with a look, she… falters and ends up whimpering instead. “A baroness who can’t make heirs. I’m so useless, I can’t even make sure that you two have a home if anything happens to me! I have to do better!”
“Culver, enough! I’ve said it before, maybe your papa…” That’s as far as John gets before she sniffles and shakes her head. “No, Arthur found what’s wrong with me… sorry, he said not wrong but… but no, there’s nothing Papa could fix. I’m so sorry… so sorry.”
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Arthur sighs and nods in confirmation at that. “Um, yeah, that’s… not medically or magically changeable that I can see… Uh. Can you adopt?” he asks. The Romans did that all the time when they didn’t have heirs. Even adopted other adults…
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“Adopt an heir?” Darcy tilts her head. It would keep that person safe! A thought forms in her mind. There is a person who always helps her with the barony, who knows her wishes, who would be perfect… Who would be a proper baroness consort, but she can’t marry him… But maybe…
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“Oh no, no, culver, don’t you fucking dare!” Groaning, John buries his face in his hands, he knows that look. Why is he even saying anything?
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She takes his hands so she can smell his face without obstruction, and no, she doesn’t mind Arthur being there. “You know if I could I’d rather make heirs with you. But if you’re my heir and… Well, if you make heirs then I could be their grandmother, as close as I can ever manage to be the mother of your children. And that’s what you’d like, isn’t it?”
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What the fuck is he supposed to say or do here?! Of course that’s what he wants! He wants to have kids with her so badly, and he was all ready to dad on any kids she’d have with Gregory, or that Gregory fathered on a whore, but not much fear of that with the old molly, so… uh, yes?
No! That would mean he would have to… fuck, be heir and making heirs… He would have to marry and he doesn’t want to! He’d feel like he’s cheating on his girl and fuck fuck fuck, he can’t possibly talk about this with another person in the room!
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“Um,” Arthur says, because that’s… kind of a personal conversation. “…I can look into whether that’s legally an option and you can discuss whether it’s, uh, personally an option?” he offers.
Turning to him for a moment Darcy smiles brightly and thanks him for always being so diligent and helping her. “If John really, really doesn’t want to I could maybe adopt you.”
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John throws Arthur a commiserating look. They’re both fucked now, aren’t they? One of them is going to get stuck with this and he wonders if he needs to protect Arthur. He didn’t even dare open the letter from Prince James. How the fuck would he do as heir? John hates the paperwork, but he can handle it.
And the thought of teaching a kid on his lap with Darcy at his side is so very, very fucking tempting. But he can’t bring himself to say anything with Arthur in the room, so he hopes Arthur notices the slight shooing motion he makes with his chin.
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“Uh,” says Arthur, because he doesn’t know what he thinks about that- except, that sounds like way too much being in the centre of things. He remembers being rather happy with the realization that he can be Darcy’s scholar and doesn’t have to actually pretend to be a noble.
“Um, yes, I’ll go get dressed and things, and then I’ll be in the library if you need me.” He thanks the house when it vanishes his used breakfast dishes, and heads off to his own rooms to use the bathroom and dress for the day. He’s totally not fleeing. Right? If Darcy needed him to be heir, he’d do it. He could do it. Probably.
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Okay, good, Arthur’s gone, that makes this a little bit easier. It’s still not really a conversation John wants to have, but here he is, sitting in the baroness’ marriage bed after having run the barony for her while she was in London. Logically, he knows that he’s the right choice, part of him is a smug dolt for her so immediately thinking of him, because it shows how much she values him, but still, heir? Being officially her adopted son? That’s just fucking wrong! So fucking wrong!
Darcy, thankfully, agrees with that and says she could never see him as a son. With a sudden giggle, she adds that this whole dhampir family attraction thing doesn’t work like that. No, that’s not what this is about. Shaking her head, she tells him that she’d make him baroness consort if she could.
Did his girl just tell him she’d marry him?! Oh fuck, oh fuck, keep it together man!
But she can’t. And she’d have his children if she could, too.
How is he supposed to keep it together when she hammers him like this?! His girl, sitting right there, looking at him, telling him she’d fulfill all his wildest dreams. That she wants to do it. It’s just the impossibility stopping her, not a lack of wanting to. And… and how the fuck could he care about the barriers? It’s his girl wanting it that matters to him.
And he tells her just that. That he wants to be with her. How much it means to him that she… in any way she can, wants to be the mother of his children. The thought of not having them with her fucking sucks but… but he gets it. They don’t really have a choice. That thought makes him laugh, bitterly. Leaning his head against her hair and sighing before he kisses her, he whispers: “But we’ve always made do, haven’t we, culver? I love you the way you are. Mother of my puppies and drac and all. I’m your man, in any way you need from me.”
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It’s a little while after Arthur settles in the library that Darcy and John join him. They look pretty happy, though, holding hands, and give him nods to continue his adoption research when he gives them a questioning look. And despite the threat of maybe a vampire or maybe hunters or maybe something else targeting them, it’s… a really nice day?
At least, Arthur thinks so. It’s nice to all sit in the library together, doing their various work and research. And of course, their various animals still need looking after, so it’s nice, too, to head out to the hospital together and check up on everyone there- like they did at the start, before John and Darcy had that obsession misunderstanding or whatever it was in the end.
Hospital seen to, Arthur takes out Hannibal for an hour, stays within sight and shouting distance while he rides and John and Darcy have a run and play with the dogs and puppies. Afterwards, it’s lunch time and then back to the library for some more work while the day slowly fades into the early dusk of winter under a thick cover of low clouds. It’s… comfortable. Cozy.
Arthur’s only niggle of worry is that Gregory is nowhere to be seen, that he’s out running around somewhere, but Darcy says she can feel him, he’s fine, and Arthur tries to let that dispel his concerns. It works well enough that when he crawls into his own bed after dinner, early since he couldn’t stop yawning until Darcy giggled and shooed him to go, that he’s asleep the moment his head touches the pillow.
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Alright, this is getting ridiculous! At what point can he tell his patron to fuck off?
Does he want the security and financial stability? Yes, of course, he does.
Does he want an over-attached shadow? No, thank you very much!
Quincy supposes he should be glad that he figured out that his stalker is his patron. He probably should feel safer for that, but seriously? Who the hell thinks it’s acceptable to lurk at your protégé’s bedside right first thing in the morning?! And he tells Cobb just that! He’s up in a huff and not feeling like apologizing about it. He’s not some noble’s play thing and he can take care of himself!
Cobb just grins at his outburst… and that is probably for the best because phew, he doesn’t normally explode like that. Must be the early morning after the party and his slight hangover combined with having been startled. Alright, alright, please just let him put his face on, and then he’ll be right back to charming, promise. Yes, being taken out for breakfast will do as apology.
Having his patron hover around at the theatre is strange, but he doesn’t interfere (too much) and the other actors are teasing Quincy for it. Why is that making him only angrier? He’s not just here because he has a patron. He worked hard to be allowed to be around. He knows how to work here. He’s one of their best makeup artists to boot! And sure, he doesn’t have much training, but he’s working towards a speaking role, isn’t he? He got there before he got a patron!
He is not just a spoiled brat! He’s not spoiled at all. He knows the streets!
But he’s probably overreacting, hazing is normal after all. And yes, they all know that he’s the no-strings-attached guy. Half of them used him as a rebound, as the guy you go to when you just need somebody to fuck away the pain, to use and leave in the bed when you’re done. And he liked it that way.
He likes to be useful. He sees himself as a healer. It’s his little way to hold a light to this bloody grey world. He refuses to let it make him bitter. He knows what the prospects for somebody like him are: Prison, exile, or an early grave. He knows he has no future, so he will bloody live the life he has to the fullest! On his own feet, too!
He doesn’t need a patron to be a full person, no, he just needs a little bit of a financial cushion so he can argue with the director, so he can focus on his acting, rather than spend time on surviving. Is that too much to ask for?!
So fine, fine, on goes the full spiel again around lunch, when Cobb takes him out again. It’s not that Quincy doesn’t like that bit of luxury. Or the attention. The hungry looks, the reaching hands. But Cobb is far too obvious. This is dangerous. Especially when Quincy realizes that Cobb has no noble standing of his own. He might be bragging that he’s a knight with the Order of Galahad, but shit, that means he’s an aberration.
Quincy got himself a patron who’s only half a step above his own status. It’s his wife with the status and the money and all the things he needs to be able to focus on his life. Bloody hell! But she’s an art-lover. Okay, he can work this. Can he seduce both of them maybe? He’s done couple deals before. Part of the healing with some couples, part of spicing up a stale relationship, he’s seen it all. And he’s not above sleeping with women if he has to. Not his cup of cocoa but needs must and all that.
Needs bloody indeed, his tiny tush. Is Cobb out of his mind?! He’s still around by evening, he’s trying to push his way right into Quincy’s bed, (not that he has one of his own at the theatre,) and that’s a red flag for Quincy. That idiot hasn’t checked in on his wife at all the entire day and now he wants to spend the night, too?! Quincy has absolutely no interest to end up like poor Wilde, exposed and hunted by his societal betters. And his fastest way there is through the ire of a spurned noble wife.
Does his patron have no sense of self-preservation either? This would go badly for both of them! Nobles throwing their lower class affairs under the coach he’s used to, but this one doesn’t even have the immunity to make it out of this himself! Ugh, he was right that he has more in his pockets than head! No, over his beautiful corpse, he refuses!
So he pushes back and talks and manipulates and pulls every damn trick in the book to make his idiot of a patron finally go home and appease the wife! It takes into the early hours of the morning, and standing very firm on: ”No, you are aren’t getting your hands on this before we are safe!” before Cobb relents, suddenly swinging into having no backbone at all. Pouting and whining and then suddenly turning into a cat (say what now?!) and vanishing into nothing.
What the hell has Quincy gotten himself into with this? Oh Divine he might be so fucked. He better check up on this. He doesn’t trust his idiot patron to actually do what is needed. Thank his silver tongue for having gotten a town name out of the airhead. Whitby. Where even is Whitby? Oh bloody hell, all the way up in York. He better get on the early train… after a few hours of sleep. Ugh, this is so not what he had envisioned. But fine, fine, he is not one for giving up!
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Arthur wanders into the kitchen early the next morning with Katharina in his arms- with how early he went to bed, he got a full night’s sleep and then some, so he’s feeling fresh and awake and it’s just half past six. Then Katharina hisses and climbs onto his shoulder and he sees Gregory standing by the stove. Arthur’s relief is mingled with a wince as he plucks Katharina’s claws out of his jacket.
Gregory smiles at him, brightly, and wishes him a good morning and declares: “I made you breakfast, Artie!” like that wasn’t self-evident and also like it was any other day.
So Arthur takes his usual seat at the table, pets Katharina to calm her down, and gives Gregory an unimpressed look. He points out to him that the house can do that, and also- where was he? Why did he disappear like that? Arthur thought he was concerned about someone attacking Darcy!
Gregory assures him that he was! He went investigating!
Maybe Arthur should thank him for that, but instead he finds himself rolling his eyes- by himself?! When they don’t know what they’re up against, whether it’s a powerful vampire or hunters or something else? That was stupid! What if he’d gotten caught?
Gregory waves that away- he didn’t, and also, he wouldn’t, he can turn invisible, remember? And he can’t be hurt. It’s fine, Arthur doesn’t need to worry!
Arthur assures him that he very much does need to worry- Gregory can get hurt, it just takes a lot, and he’s not invisible to every sense or spell there is! What if he got compromised? What if he led their attackers back to them? Does he want to endanger Darcy?
That, at least, makes Gregory pause, and he ducks his head and mumbles that no, of course not…
So there! They don’t know what they’re dealing with, and until they do, it’s reckless to run off on his own. Arthur tells him to stay nearby, to be careful– though that’s probably futile, no matter how much emphasis he puts on the word. ‘Careful’ is really not something Gregory is good at.
But Gregory nods, and says “Of course, Artie!” and then… turns cat and runs off.
“Nearby!” Arthur yells after him in reminder, and then… wonders ‘now what?’ Now he’s alone in the kitchen. Well, alone except for Katharina, who calms down again, climbs back down to curl up on his lap.
Arthur pets her, asks her: “…You really don’t like Gregory, huh? Guess it’s strange for you that he looks like a cat sometimes but isn’t one?” Of course, she only starts purring. And flexing her claws into his thigh. He winces again, lifts her paw so those needle tips only catch the fabric of his trousers and not his skin, then looks at the abandoned breakfast on the stove.
Before he has to decide what to do about it, the house vanishes the pan, and instead pops up his usual eggs and toast and sausages in front of him. Remembering his thoughts yesterday on Dr Seward and the vegetables, Arthur asks: “Could I have some fried mushrooms, too?” And of course, a moment later, some of those appear in a neat little pile next to the scrambled eggs.
Arthur smiles at the air, even if that’s maybe silly, and thanks the house, and digs in. At least Gregory is safe and sound, like Darcy said, he decides. And he has a warm, cuddly cat and good food and a warm kitchen. It’s a decent start to the day.
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Ugh, Quincy hates trains! Hours of being confined away from the open sky above, and too many social norms against just striking up a conversation with the people around him. Bloody British attitude towards pretending to nothing ever being anybody’s business! He’s born in the wrong country!
Wrong century, too, for that matter. Bloody Beau Brummell and ruining fashion! There’s only so many times Quincy can adjust a vest and fidget with a button, none of the fun of lace and ruffles and fanciful colours he could have had only a few centuries prior!
Yes, he’s grumpy! The world that hates him can deal. He has a right to being grumpy. He’s spending what little money he has on a long train ride. To a meaningless place in the hicks at that! So much for romanticized ideas about noble estates. He got a commoner knight who gold-digged his way up to a baroness! Ugh, it would have been easier to do that directly with her. At least she can tell apart an ‘exit stage left’ from a theatre prop! Or at least it seemed she could.
Not that Quincy got to see her again, his patron conveniently forgot to bring her to the actual show! Seriously? Seriously?! Become a patron to impress his wife and then show up with a shy guy to visit his theatre protégé at the after-party! But he’s the obvious one… right, right!
Ugh! Obvious, he’ll show them obvious! And now he’s fidgeting with those boring buttons again. He feels underdressed in these drab things this country and century calls appropriate male attire. Appropriate his tiny tush! Fine! Fine, if he is doomed and trying to save himself by sheer virtue of how charming he is, how charming he can be even to women, then he can do this. In for a penny, in for a pound!