Soliloquy

When the letter came to inform me of my father's death, I could not find the tears to cry. He had died two days before and the fastest horse had been taken to get the letter to me. I would leave Deathcreeke immedietly for London and Charles would accompany me. After the strange and terrifying events of the night prior, at the masquerade, I did not wish him to come with me, but I could not say no. He was my chaperone. I could not simply traipse around London unchaperoned. It would be more than a little scandalous. Especially since I was to have a season in the coming spring months.

So we rode to London only an hour or so after I'd recieved the letter. Twas not enough time to even tell Alphonse that I was leaving. I could only hope that Lily would explain to her son. How I wished that instead of Charles, Alphonse could be with me. It would never do, though, even if he wasn't cursed, even if I was allowed to see him out of secret. I felt cold and numb as we rode quickly through the countryside. We were moving faster than we had on the trip up to Deathcreeke, and I did my best to pass the time with novels I'd taken from the manor library. It was in this way that I could reduce Charles's and my conversation to the bare minimum. He only mentioned a few things - interesting sights or views, or an anecdote about the town we were passing through - and did not say much. He seemed apologetic again, and I felt almost guilty for acting so rashly. There had to be a reason he had said that I was his. He could simply mean his ward, could he not?

Still, I kept mostly silent as we drove towards town, and Charles left me alone.

Now that I was technically an orphan, there would be papers to legally hand me over to the Wainwrights. I would be in their care until I married, and Charles, as long as he was living and as long as I was a minor, would have to sign any marriage papers. Technically, I could marry no one that he did not approve, at least until I was eighteen. That particular thought, as I'd been thinking it for quite sometime, made me uneasy. However, I wasn't even sure I would married before eighteen, so I knew my worries were silly. I thought of it often, though.

Maybe it was stranger that I was more concerned with my matrimonial future than a future without my father. I'd loved him, of course I did, he was my father, for heaven's sakes. But was I sad that he was gone? I couldn't particularly say. He'd been a ghost during my life anyway, only becoming a reality when he would not allow me to do something that Mother thought was fine.

Our carriage ride to London took two days and what I found I was most concerned about, out of all the other concerns, was the fact that Alphonse's time was running out and there was nothing I could do to make his birthday come any slower. I knew my day in London would pass quickly: We would attend his funeral, then the banquet at the home of the Townshends and then I would go to my home just to see it, one last time. It would now go to the closest living male relative I had. By law, I could not inherit the house, unless I was married.

The sky was clear as we arrived, but it looked as if it would cloud over soon. I was not surprised. With a sigh, I shut my book and smoothed out my black mourning dress. At Deathcreeke, I did not wear my mourning gowns. Charles and Lily had said nothing about it, and there was no one in Hunstville who knew of my mother's demise. Besides, they all thought me a heathen anyway, since I had not attended church. I did not care. London was different. Here were the people I had spent my childhood years with. They knew about my family, about me. I could not create a scandal in London. Not if I wished to stay marriageable, at least. So I wore black, tucked my book into my carpet bag, and let the carriage take us to the cemetary.

Charles gave me his elbow, which I took out of propriety, not from want. We were the last ones to arrive, it seemed. I found myself once again staring into a sea of black. I did not watch my father's coffin as it was lowered, I did not watch or even listen to the eulogist. I held my head high and waited to feel Death once more.

His arrival came swiftly. A breeze, much colder than the air, whipped around me and only me. I felt the cold Niflheim air try to pull me in and I resisted, staying firmly in the mortal world. I watched as other's eyes fell upon me. The London people were different than the people at the masquerade last night, but their eyes all held the same disdain, the same glares. Every cough was a curse and every sigh was a scream. I thought of Wren Morgenstern, what would she do in this situation? Straightening my back even further, I looked beyond the stares and met my eyes with Rupert Townshend. He nodded and I returned the nod. I was no longer the same as I had been the day of my mother's funeral. That day I was scared, sad and sick. That day I was innocent to the world. Today I understood and today I would not look away from Rupert. We held eyes for quite sometime before he finally looked away.

When the funeral was over and the procession was making their way back to their carriages to take to the Townshend's home, I took Charles's arm once more, but did not let the faces of the people around me blur and disintegrate. I would look at them just as firmly as I could.

I was not a lady, not quite yet, but I felt as if right then I was shedding every inch of my childhood shell. It was a strange and ominous feeling.

The carriage took us swiftly to the Townshend's home and Charles said nothing to me as we drove. I held my back straighter than ever and looked out the window. Ladies and gentlemen strolled casually on the cobblestone streets and I watched as one tiny footpad darted in between two ladies. They pulled back from him, disgusted, as he ran into a dark alley. My heart hurt momentarily but the pain was forgotten quickly as we drove to the Townshend's large home.

I'd been there a few times before, but it seemed different this time...less scary, almost. True, the last times I'd been here I'd been under the impression that I would be forced to marry Rupert, but maybe I was less scared because this house seemed to hold no power over me any longer. Or maybe it was that my father held no power over me any longer.

That was a morbid thought.

Charles and I walked up the steps arm in arm, but before he knocked, Charles looked at me softly. "You are all right?" he asked me quietly. His tone and his sad face made me feel taken aback. I should feel nothing but disdain, nothing but loathing for this man, and yet there seemed something within him that was soft and dispairing. As if the times he had been so strange to me were times when he was not himself.

I nodded with a slight smile. "I am, thank you," I answered just as softly. With a rap on the door knocker, we waited out in the gathering clouds. A maid answered the door with a curtsy. We stepped inside and I found myself once again the recipient of many prayers, apologies, et cetera. I smiled and took them kindly, not feeling the hositility I felt when I'd been greeted like this at my mother's funeral banquet. I knew it was because I just couldn't find the strength to care any longer. I introduced Charles to anyone who didn't know him as my guardian. He explained that while he and his wife had been living in Huntsville for quite some time, they would now be procuring a London townhouse so I could have a proper season.

A season might not have been apropriate for a girl who was supposed to be in mourning, but it was the general thought that I would have no prospects of finding a good match in Huntsville, so a season seemed only necessary. I almost felt as if I would laugh as everyone we spoke to lamented about the lack of gentlemen up in Northumberland. Oh, I felt like saying to them, if only you knew what gentlemen were up in Northumberland... I kept my remarks to myself, as did Charles. We would not spoil anyone's thoughts of the primeval county up near Scotland.

When I could deny no longer talking to Rupert and Samuel Townshend. Charles and I approached them; he with a bow, myself with a curtsy. They bowed stiffly back in response, and Rupert wasted no time in throwing me into a fiery pit of questions. "You did not answer my letter. I expected an answer. Why?" His voice was strained and I almost felt guilty.

"I am sorry," I told him, trying to think of a reason closest to the truth that I could, "I could think of nothing to say." Then I bowed my head solemnly, trying very hard to feel the remorse I was expressing. I could not do it. I felt a touch of a hand upon mine and looked up to see Rupert looking at me sadly. Charles had detached himself from me and I watched as he and Samuel Townshend dissappeared off together, leaving Rupert and I alone in the middle of this mourning crowd.

His eyes held concern and a stab of guilt went through me. I did not like to fake sadness, but I knew I must. "You do understand that you still have a home here. I forgive you for not responding my letter and my proposal still stands." I turned my head and tried to suppress a smile. The guilt that had been in me had left quickly. How kind of him to forgive me. After all I had done wrong. And how nice of him to still want to marry me, especially with my father dead and his estate not yet given away to my closest male relative, my cousin Michael Kinsley.

I looked back to Rupert, trying to conceal the ironic laughter I knew that was in my eyes. "This proposal would have nothing to do with the fact that if you marry me quickly, you will get my father's entire estate, now would it?" I questioned casually. Rupert dropped my hand and looked stuffed into his clothes all of a sudden. He fiddled with his neck cloth and looked to his father. My eyes went to Samuel and Charles, who were talking quickly in low voices. Looking back to Rupert, I raised an eyebrow. "Well?" I asked.

"Of course not, my dear Faerie. You know how brightly for you my love burns. I would never do you that dishonor. I only wish to love and cherish you until our dying days." He sounded quite passionate, but already I did not believe him. I turned away from Rupert without one word and walked to Charles. No matter what I felt for him, I knew he would not sell me off to Samuel Townshend, the way my father might have. Charles looked at me darkly as I approached.

"...Thank you for the generous offer Mr. Townshend, however, I believe Miss Brighton and I must go now to her home so she can collect any last personal items. Good day," he said, tipping his hat to the man and taking my arm roughly. As we walked from the house, I turned to see Rupert and Samuel looking at us, annoyed looks painted on their faces. I resisted the urge to laugh. That would be spiteful and rude. Instead I just winked charmingly and turned back to Charles. He did not look at me. "Samuel offered me a great deal of money if I would sign the papers and hand you over to him. He seems to want you to marry his son quite adamately. His charade was easy to see through. I knew he only wished to have your money." Then Charles smiled. "Now, what did he mean when he said that you had not answered his letter, hm?"

My face felt hot. "He proposed to me a week or so in a letter, explaining that my father was fading fast and that I always had a home at the Townshend's." My face twisted into one of repulsion. "I knew he only wished to have my father's entire estate. As if my large dowry were not enough for the man. Truthfully, I feel as if I have quite washed my hands of him."

"Ah," Charles replied with a slight smile. As much it hurt me to feel gratitude to the man, I did. He had refused me to the Townshends. He had saved me from a marriage to Rupert. Before, I had thought Rupert as actually maybe having feelings for me that ran deeper than friendship. It certainly had seemed that way when we were a few years younger. Now I knew the truth. All along he had wanted my money, only my money. His father was even willing to pay for me so Rupert could have my father's estate. Charles and prevented that. He had saved me. My head replayed the words he had said to me last night...but in light of this turn of events, I knew I should forgive him once more. I had no idea why Charles had acted the way he had, but I knew that whomever it was that appeared when he had said those words to me...whomever it was, it wasn't him.

A powered footman had our carriage brought back around, as as we got in, I realized that I was nervous. We were going to my home...well, my old home. My old home that was now filled with the ghosts of my mother and my father. Could I do it? I forced myself to breathe evenly. Yes. It was just a house. The horses clip-clopped along the streets at a bright speed that did not match the darknening sky. We arrived at the familiar building before the rain started, thankfully.

Charles led me inside. Our butler Anderson still greeted us formally. I wondered if he would stay with the house until he too, died. I said nothing though, just curtsied and smiled. "We have been getting everything ready for the transition. Your cousin Michael will be over tomorrow to inspect the house," Anderson explained stiffly, "in the meantime, there is a small crate in your father's study with your name on it." Surprised, I looked at Charles. He did not know of the box, obviously, and looked as confused as I did. The wooden double doors right to my left opened to the study.

"Before I take a look at the crate, would it be all right if I looked at my old room?" I asked Anderson, "there may be one or two things I would like to take."

Anderson sighed. "I suppose the new master won't mind if you collect some personal items." I nodded in thanks and dashed up the stairs, alone. Charles did not follow me, thankfullly. My footsteps creaked earily as I ascended the stairs. The floorboards were newer than the ones at Deathcreeke, but suddenly, my house felt even less familiar than the imposing gray manor that was my new home. The upstairs was dark, as if only a few people had been up here since my father's death. It was cold here as well, and I wondered if there were any fires burning at all. Pushing the door to my room open, I saw that the fireplace was swept out and very clean. The linens had been stripped from my bed, and most everything was gone from the room. I had taken most of the knick knacks when I'd left for Deathcreeke, but there were still one or two things lying about. It almost felt as if I were a ghost, too.

It felt as if I did not belong here. I was intruding on forbidden territory. I felt another cold breeze, even though my window was closed. A whisper filled the room. It was not quite a voice, but I felt something at my back. Leave, I felt. Do not come back, it seemed to say. My skin turned to gooseflesh and I looked to my vanity mirror. On the desk was a single looking glass that I had never seen before. I took it quickly and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind me. It was not quite as cold out here, but my teeth were on the verge of chattering. I looked at my reflection in the glass. I looked haggard and weary. I held the glass to my heart and descended the stairs, stepping softly.

The door to my father's study was open as I came down. I went inside and saw Charles looking out the window of his study to the streets of London. "You took what you would keep?" asked he. I nodded and then realized he could not see me.

"Yes," I told him. He turned to me and pointed to something beyond my shoulder. I looked to see a small wooden crate sitting on my father's desk. I walked towards it slowly. There were only a few items in there. The book of the Grimm's Fairy Tales sat at the bottom. There was a portrait of my mother that I'd never seen before, along with a small heart shaped locket with my initials on it. Opening the locket, I saw that the locket was empty. It was as if there were supposed to be pictures in there, but they were gone. I did not put the locket on and simply left it in the crate. There were a few other things that held no specific importance for me, so my eyes passed over them quickly.

I then spied a letter at the back. Picking it up, I saw that my name was written on it in my father's unmistakable pen. This had been written very recently, I could tell, for the words were shaky. Faerie was written in his weakened flowing script. Underneath that, in smaller letters were the words To read when you are ready to learn the truth. A strange feeling coarsed through me and I turned the letter open to break the wax seal. Suddenly I felt that same cold breeze around me and the same ghostly voice that was not a voice at all. Leave now, it whispered again. I put the letter down in the crate and picked the small box up. Maybe I was not ready to read the letter.

"We should go," I found myself saying breathlessly to Charles. He looked at me curiously.

"You have finished looking through your things? This will no longer be your home once the papers are signed..." he said.

I nodded. "It is my home no longer, anyway," I said, feeling a shadow of darkness pass through me. Our eyes met and we looked at each other for a moment. Charles opened his mouth to say something, took in a breath and closed his mouth quickly. Turning my head down, I departed from the room. Anderson stood in the hall, watching me with his steely eyes. "Thank you," I found myself telling him. Anderson nodded once and I went outside, the small crate under one arm. Charles caught up with me quickly and linked his elbow through mine. Looking up at him, he smiled.

"Be careful, Faerie. You know how the tongues of London wag when they see an unescorted female." I wanted to curse him for being right. I could not simply walk anywhere I wanted to alone, even if it was just to the street to wait for the carriage. I nodded to Charles instead and let him guide me. The carriage came quickly and we were loaded inside. "So then, are we off to Deathcreeke? I was under the assumption we would stay here one night."

I looked at the letter sitting on top of the crate. It called to me, but my fingers dared not open it. "There is nothing left for me here," I whispered, more to myself than to Charles. He heard it though. Looking up, I saw that he was looking out the carriage window as we made our way through the streets of Mayfair. London was grey and cold. And finally, the rain started. I sighed, my breath coming out in a whispy train, almost like the smoke of the pipe my father used to use.

As we left town and started on our way to Deathcreeke, Charles looked to me solemnly. "Faerie," he started, "there is something that I have been meaning to tell you..."