‹ Prequel: Soliloquy
Lament
eleven.
"What do you mean?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I had time to screen them, and the moment I said them, I felt a little more than foolish.
But Wren did not roll her eyes or scoff or do anything remotely sarcastic. Instead, she stared at me with her dark eyes. "That was what Jules was over here for. Being a Viscount does have its perks you know...he's got connections in the Bow Street Runners, and they just reported that Fiona Brighton's grave has been dug up and that her caskett has vanished. Now the Runners, of course, believe this was a grave robbery and Jules said he wouldn't be surprised if one of them came to your house asking you if you'd buried your mother with any precious jewlery, but of course, I know the real reason has something to do with Charles Wainwright. I do not know what, but,"
"That's what Jules was here for?" I asked, once again sounding foolish. I had meant to tell her that I knew why Charles had dug up the grave, I meant to explain what Jaedo had told me, but those idiotic words had slipped out.
Wren narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes," she said calmly. "Faerie, you really do expect the worst of people."
"You make it hard to trust you," I replied back quickly. I thought Wren would certainly get angry, but instead found that she smiled at my remark. I let a sigh escape me, a sigh of something like relief. Wren started back towards the sitting room, and I followed her. Glenn still sat, legs crossed, eating a petit four. "I know why Charles took my mother's body," I told her, and even as I spoke those words, my body felt cold. The idea of my mother's body being used as some experiment of Charles Wainwright...I shuddered at the thought.
Somehow, Wren looked surprised that I knew. "Oh?" she questioned.
I looked to both of them, but Glenn first. "It was the Green Faerie, Jaedo, who told me. While Charles was on the run, he went to Ireland and spoke with my mother's faerie parents. Somehow he got them to reveal their secret to him...that the hearts of faerie's do not decay. Charles plans to plant my mother's heart and use the blood of the Philosopher's Stone to grow a homunculi of my mother," I told them, managing to keep my voice calm and even.
The two cousins sitting across from me said nothing and were absolutely still for a moment. And then, Wren looked at me. "We must stop him. He's mad, that man. Oh lord, I cannot even call him a man. He is truly no better than an animal!" She put an ivory hand over her mouth and I lowered my head. Her repulsion made the entire situation feel infinitely more real. If Charles had his way, if he was able to complete his plot, my mother would be alive again. The thought of my mother alive, however, did not comfort me, because I understood that it would not really be her. Even if the woman was a perfect replica, she would not be the woman who had raised me, the woman who had told me stories or the woman who had kept secrets from me.
I felt a hand upon my shoulder and looked up to see Glenn. His mouth was set in a firm line. "Fae, you should return to your home and wait for the Runners. When they ask, tell them your mother had on a freshwater pearl and diamond necklace. Do not tell anyone of this, and we shall keep quiet as well. Go about your normal life, do not make any indication that you know something more of this. And if you see him, ask Jaedo all he knows of what happened. We must continue to search for Charles, we must find who is keeping him safe and allowing him to experiment. And we must find out quickly, we must find him before he gets to Alphonse."
With an understanding nod, I stood up. I did not say any word of departure, but looked at them before I left. Wren had a faraway look in her eyes and Glenn was holding onto her hand. For a moment, my breath caught, because for a moment, I believed that they did care. And that meant more to me than I could ever tell.
When I returned to the house, I saw the distinctive hack cab of the Bow Street Runners. However, none of the men were the same men I'd seen earlier at Victoria's house when...I shuddered again. In my shock about finding that Charles had dug up my mother's grave, I'd momentarily forgotten that I'd witnessed Mr. Edmund Smythe's death. But I pushed that thought to the edge of my mind, where it could stay until it would resurface some dark, lonely night. And I knew it would.
The rest of the day passed in a run, like watercolors meeting and melding on a white canvas. I attended my engagement party without much enthusiasm - thankfully, Jules understood. I realized, however, at the party, that while a life as the Viscountess of Farnsworth would mean a life of finery and luxury, it did not mean a life of true happiness. But those revelations seemed so much older and just a little bit cold. I already knew I'd never feel the same way about Jules that I did about Alphonse, but I was running out of options. It wasn't fair, but I already knew life wasn't fair as a general rule.
Just like that, one day passing in a blur became two days passing and two days became a week. Time rushed by like sand through my fingertips, but it was worse because it was silent time. I heard nothing from Wren, Glenn, Victoria or even Jaedo. No familiar green wings to answer my thousands upon thousands of questions. Jules I saw surprisingly little. And I heard nothing from or about Alphonse. For an entire week he became a total enigma once again, and the thought of losing him forever scared me. I couldn't face it and stuffed it back with all my other black thoughts.
It was just a little over a week later, however, when I finally heard from Victoria. She invited me to the opera, and thankful for something to do besides sitting at home, looking out the window to the outside world. Lily, since hearing the news of my mother, had become quiter, a little more introverted. She'd loved Charles and might still love him now, despite everything. Charles loved my mother in a sick, obsessive way. I wonder if he ever loved Lily. And then I wondered if she ever wondered that.
The night of the opera, Lily would be going to meet with Jules's mother, the Dowager, to discuss my dowry. When Charles had become my guardian, he had also become the controller of my dowry. Secretley, I was thankful Lily had plans. I did not wish to come home and hear her mournful sobs once again. Since that night I'd heard her, she'd been quiet, however, I knew if she was left alone...
I did not need to worry, though, and she departed before I. When I reached Victoria's home, she was doing her best to look sad - she'd even worn a dark, muted blue though she wasn't obligated to dress in mourning black - but the sad face did not suit her. Her family had a box at the theater and we'd be sitting like royalty. Anyone who was anyone knew that the opera was less about watching the works of the great masters on stage and more about watching the other people in the theater. The opera was the perfect place to see, be seen and most importantly, gossip.
Our carriage arrived in the throng of other carriages, and we were led out by the competent driver. The Landry's box was high up and quite near the middle. We had a perfect view of everything around us and before Mrs. Landry could say, "Girls, behave yourselves," we had our opera glasses out.
My eyes instantly went to a mop of shiny black hair tied neatly back. Alphonse was again, expertly dressed. His opera attire was different than his ball attire, but reminded me of the masquerade where we had waltzed and confessed to each other our feelings. His dress was similar to that. I swallowed and forced myself to see who was sitting in the box with him. Behind him sat the young man who had given me Alphonse's note the night when we'd spoken to each other in his garden. Well, yelled at each other was a more appropos description. With a flush, I looked to see that it was none other than Wren Morgenstern who sat next to him.
My hands tensed and I focused right in on them. Wren was leaning into Alphonse, saying something to him quietly. She looked unearthly beautiful in her gold gown, and around her next was a necklace of gold and yellow jewels. Her hair was laced with pearls. I lowered my glasses for a moment with a sick feeling playing at the bottom of my stomach, and brought them back up a moment later. Now Alphonse was speaking, and while his eyes were surveying the scene around him, his face was turn towards Wren. He shook his head no and put a fist under his chin. I looked to Wren. Her face twisted in anger as she turned away from him. I saw her sit very still for a moment before turning back to Alphonse. Her face was one of desperation. I couldn't watch this any longer, it was making me ill.
Just as I went to look away, though, Alphonse's head turned. He was staring, straight at me. I could see his dark eyes looking at me, and I lowered the glasses. He was much farther away, but we still looked at each other. Alphonse opened his mouth and head tilted up, as if his breath had caught. And then he turned his head away. Like we'd never even known each other at all.
I couldn't concentrate on the opera once the lanterns dimmed. The thought that Wren and Alphonse were sitting in a private box, relatively alone, in the dark, unnerved me more than I could ever admit. My mind told me nothing of consequence was going on between them. At least, I rationalized, I know they are not lovers. Alphonse would never love her, she scared him. My heart, on the other hand, wished to lash out and give Alphonse as much pain as he'd given me. They were selfish, awful thoughts, and yet, I couldn't stop thinking them.
When the lights came back for the interim, I saw that Alphonse was gone but Wren was not. In Alphonse's place sat the young man who had been sitting behind him, and Wren looked distinctly put out. For one crazy moment I thought of leaving the box and seeing where Alphonse had run off to, but I knew that was foolish. It was none of my business. At least, not anymore.
My eyes never left their box, though, and Alphonse hadn't returned by the time intermission was over. When the lanterns dimmed once again, a prickly feeling passed on the back of my neck, but I let it slide. There was no use in getting excited over something so irrelevent. Maybe Alphonse just didn't like this opera. Maybe he was tired. I came up with a thousand possibilites in my head, and because of that, missed out on the entire last half of the opera. When I chimed back in at the end, I had no idea what was going on. What a waste.
As we streamed out of the theater, I let Victoria's chatter consumed me. I was heartily glad that she was not affected by Mr. Smythe's death, or at least, not affected too much. There would always be something different about our friendship now. We had both seen another human die right in front of our eyes. Of course, I'd seen another one die as well - Lily - but that didn't feel the same. Because she was still very much alive while we'd never have to stand the company of Edmund Smythe any longer.
Somehow, though, in the crush of the crowd, I lost the Landry's. It wasn't horrible, I knew where their carriage was, but I was unchaperoned, so I felt a little embarassed. I pulled my opera cloak closer to me and put the head over my hair, hoping that none would recognize me. It could be scandalous to be found walking alone, but worse than that, I did not wish for anyone to ask if I needed help. It wasn't as if I was some helpless lost girl.
I saw their carriage off in the distance and saw Victoria just ahead of me. I meant to call out to her, for I could see that she was looking around for me, but in a moment, as I walked by a dark alleyway, I saw something that made my stomach turn. I stopped short and turned into the alley. There, just close enough to see, was my mother. Standing in the shadows, but I could still see her face and she was the same as she alwas had been. And then my initial sickness was turned into a sort of wild happiness - like I wanted to run to her and put my arms around her and tell how much I loved and missed her. But then my body went frigid as I understood what this meant. Charles had planted my mother's heart in the ground. He'd kidnapped Alphonse, he'd used his blood.
As we stood, facing each other, dread washed over me. I should have followed him. I should have done something other than feel jealous and stupid and naive.
A sudden start awoke me from my reverie: Mother moved closer. "Mama?" I asked, just that one word. She opened her mouth, but what came out of it was no human noise. It was guttural, feral and wild. It sounded like a whimper and a growl and a howl, all at the same time. I took a step back, stumbling on the crumbling stone street. Mother thrust her arms out to me and caught me by my shoulders. I looked around and saw the Landry's carriage ahead of me. I meant to scream, but when I opened my mouth, no sound came out. There was nothing I could do. What would happen if someone saw her here? I'd have to explain the truth and I'd probably be locked in Bedlam.
Mother, or what looked like my mother, pulled me forward and made another noise that seemed to erupt from the back of her throat. Her unusually strong arms crushed my shoulders and I struggled beneath her grasp. "Mother, what..." I finally asked, the boulder in my throat finally moving long enough for me to form words.
And then I felt stronger arms, prying my mother's hands off of me, pushing me down. As I fell on the dark stone of the alleyway, I saw Alphonse dart forward and grab my mother by the hair. He pulled out a knife and slit her throat.
Mother looked at me as she bled, looked at me with her eyes. They were her eyes, only different, darker somehow, but they were still her eyes. And even though I knew it wasn't her, somehow it wasn't her and Alphonse was okay and it was going to be all right, somehow when I looked at her, it was really like I was seeing my mother being murdered. Seeing her die all over again, even though I knew she was dead and gone, for good.
She bled too quickly and too much. Alphonse had pushed her away from him and she looked at us both, the noises from her throat becoming different each time. She fell to her knees and I watched as her legs shriveled. As she bled, her entire body withered, blackened and wrinkled in upon itself. After only a few seconds, all that remained a white hand, reaching up and bloody, at Alphonse. And after another second, that too, had become nothing. She had turned to a heap of blackened ash, and in that moment, a gust of wind blew through the alley. Her ashes blew away and it was as if nothing had ever been there.
After everything was over, I was still half laying on the ground, while Alphonse was standing. I took one shaky look at him, turned away and vomited onto the dark stones. And when there was nothing left in my stomach, I felt the world fall away softly until it was nothing but a deep, black void.
But Wren did not roll her eyes or scoff or do anything remotely sarcastic. Instead, she stared at me with her dark eyes. "That was what Jules was over here for. Being a Viscount does have its perks you know...he's got connections in the Bow Street Runners, and they just reported that Fiona Brighton's grave has been dug up and that her caskett has vanished. Now the Runners, of course, believe this was a grave robbery and Jules said he wouldn't be surprised if one of them came to your house asking you if you'd buried your mother with any precious jewlery, but of course, I know the real reason has something to do with Charles Wainwright. I do not know what, but,"
"That's what Jules was here for?" I asked, once again sounding foolish. I had meant to tell her that I knew why Charles had dug up the grave, I meant to explain what Jaedo had told me, but those idiotic words had slipped out.
Wren narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes," she said calmly. "Faerie, you really do expect the worst of people."
"You make it hard to trust you," I replied back quickly. I thought Wren would certainly get angry, but instead found that she smiled at my remark. I let a sigh escape me, a sigh of something like relief. Wren started back towards the sitting room, and I followed her. Glenn still sat, legs crossed, eating a petit four. "I know why Charles took my mother's body," I told her, and even as I spoke those words, my body felt cold. The idea of my mother's body being used as some experiment of Charles Wainwright...I shuddered at the thought.
Somehow, Wren looked surprised that I knew. "Oh?" she questioned.
I looked to both of them, but Glenn first. "It was the Green Faerie, Jaedo, who told me. While Charles was on the run, he went to Ireland and spoke with my mother's faerie parents. Somehow he got them to reveal their secret to him...that the hearts of faerie's do not decay. Charles plans to plant my mother's heart and use the blood of the Philosopher's Stone to grow a homunculi of my mother," I told them, managing to keep my voice calm and even.
The two cousins sitting across from me said nothing and were absolutely still for a moment. And then, Wren looked at me. "We must stop him. He's mad, that man. Oh lord, I cannot even call him a man. He is truly no better than an animal!" She put an ivory hand over her mouth and I lowered my head. Her repulsion made the entire situation feel infinitely more real. If Charles had his way, if he was able to complete his plot, my mother would be alive again. The thought of my mother alive, however, did not comfort me, because I understood that it would not really be her. Even if the woman was a perfect replica, she would not be the woman who had raised me, the woman who had told me stories or the woman who had kept secrets from me.
I felt a hand upon my shoulder and looked up to see Glenn. His mouth was set in a firm line. "Fae, you should return to your home and wait for the Runners. When they ask, tell them your mother had on a freshwater pearl and diamond necklace. Do not tell anyone of this, and we shall keep quiet as well. Go about your normal life, do not make any indication that you know something more of this. And if you see him, ask Jaedo all he knows of what happened. We must continue to search for Charles, we must find who is keeping him safe and allowing him to experiment. And we must find out quickly, we must find him before he gets to Alphonse."
With an understanding nod, I stood up. I did not say any word of departure, but looked at them before I left. Wren had a faraway look in her eyes and Glenn was holding onto her hand. For a moment, my breath caught, because for a moment, I believed that they did care. And that meant more to me than I could ever tell.
When I returned to the house, I saw the distinctive hack cab of the Bow Street Runners. However, none of the men were the same men I'd seen earlier at Victoria's house when...I shuddered again. In my shock about finding that Charles had dug up my mother's grave, I'd momentarily forgotten that I'd witnessed Mr. Edmund Smythe's death. But I pushed that thought to the edge of my mind, where it could stay until it would resurface some dark, lonely night. And I knew it would.
The rest of the day passed in a run, like watercolors meeting and melding on a white canvas. I attended my engagement party without much enthusiasm - thankfully, Jules understood. I realized, however, at the party, that while a life as the Viscountess of Farnsworth would mean a life of finery and luxury, it did not mean a life of true happiness. But those revelations seemed so much older and just a little bit cold. I already knew I'd never feel the same way about Jules that I did about Alphonse, but I was running out of options. It wasn't fair, but I already knew life wasn't fair as a general rule.
Just like that, one day passing in a blur became two days passing and two days became a week. Time rushed by like sand through my fingertips, but it was worse because it was silent time. I heard nothing from Wren, Glenn, Victoria or even Jaedo. No familiar green wings to answer my thousands upon thousands of questions. Jules I saw surprisingly little. And I heard nothing from or about Alphonse. For an entire week he became a total enigma once again, and the thought of losing him forever scared me. I couldn't face it and stuffed it back with all my other black thoughts.
It was just a little over a week later, however, when I finally heard from Victoria. She invited me to the opera, and thankful for something to do besides sitting at home, looking out the window to the outside world. Lily, since hearing the news of my mother, had become quiter, a little more introverted. She'd loved Charles and might still love him now, despite everything. Charles loved my mother in a sick, obsessive way. I wonder if he ever loved Lily. And then I wondered if she ever wondered that.
The night of the opera, Lily would be going to meet with Jules's mother, the Dowager, to discuss my dowry. When Charles had become my guardian, he had also become the controller of my dowry. Secretley, I was thankful Lily had plans. I did not wish to come home and hear her mournful sobs once again. Since that night I'd heard her, she'd been quiet, however, I knew if she was left alone...
I did not need to worry, though, and she departed before I. When I reached Victoria's home, she was doing her best to look sad - she'd even worn a dark, muted blue though she wasn't obligated to dress in mourning black - but the sad face did not suit her. Her family had a box at the theater and we'd be sitting like royalty. Anyone who was anyone knew that the opera was less about watching the works of the great masters on stage and more about watching the other people in the theater. The opera was the perfect place to see, be seen and most importantly, gossip.
Our carriage arrived in the throng of other carriages, and we were led out by the competent driver. The Landry's box was high up and quite near the middle. We had a perfect view of everything around us and before Mrs. Landry could say, "Girls, behave yourselves," we had our opera glasses out.
My eyes instantly went to a mop of shiny black hair tied neatly back. Alphonse was again, expertly dressed. His opera attire was different than his ball attire, but reminded me of the masquerade where we had waltzed and confessed to each other our feelings. His dress was similar to that. I swallowed and forced myself to see who was sitting in the box with him. Behind him sat the young man who had given me Alphonse's note the night when we'd spoken to each other in his garden. Well, yelled at each other was a more appropos description. With a flush, I looked to see that it was none other than Wren Morgenstern who sat next to him.
My hands tensed and I focused right in on them. Wren was leaning into Alphonse, saying something to him quietly. She looked unearthly beautiful in her gold gown, and around her next was a necklace of gold and yellow jewels. Her hair was laced with pearls. I lowered my glasses for a moment with a sick feeling playing at the bottom of my stomach, and brought them back up a moment later. Now Alphonse was speaking, and while his eyes were surveying the scene around him, his face was turn towards Wren. He shook his head no and put a fist under his chin. I looked to Wren. Her face twisted in anger as she turned away from him. I saw her sit very still for a moment before turning back to Alphonse. Her face was one of desperation. I couldn't watch this any longer, it was making me ill.
Just as I went to look away, though, Alphonse's head turned. He was staring, straight at me. I could see his dark eyes looking at me, and I lowered the glasses. He was much farther away, but we still looked at each other. Alphonse opened his mouth and head tilted up, as if his breath had caught. And then he turned his head away. Like we'd never even known each other at all.
I couldn't concentrate on the opera once the lanterns dimmed. The thought that Wren and Alphonse were sitting in a private box, relatively alone, in the dark, unnerved me more than I could ever admit. My mind told me nothing of consequence was going on between them. At least, I rationalized, I know they are not lovers. Alphonse would never love her, she scared him. My heart, on the other hand, wished to lash out and give Alphonse as much pain as he'd given me. They were selfish, awful thoughts, and yet, I couldn't stop thinking them.
When the lights came back for the interim, I saw that Alphonse was gone but Wren was not. In Alphonse's place sat the young man who had been sitting behind him, and Wren looked distinctly put out. For one crazy moment I thought of leaving the box and seeing where Alphonse had run off to, but I knew that was foolish. It was none of my business. At least, not anymore.
My eyes never left their box, though, and Alphonse hadn't returned by the time intermission was over. When the lanterns dimmed once again, a prickly feeling passed on the back of my neck, but I let it slide. There was no use in getting excited over something so irrelevent. Maybe Alphonse just didn't like this opera. Maybe he was tired. I came up with a thousand possibilites in my head, and because of that, missed out on the entire last half of the opera. When I chimed back in at the end, I had no idea what was going on. What a waste.
As we streamed out of the theater, I let Victoria's chatter consumed me. I was heartily glad that she was not affected by Mr. Smythe's death, or at least, not affected too much. There would always be something different about our friendship now. We had both seen another human die right in front of our eyes. Of course, I'd seen another one die as well - Lily - but that didn't feel the same. Because she was still very much alive while we'd never have to stand the company of Edmund Smythe any longer.
Somehow, though, in the crush of the crowd, I lost the Landry's. It wasn't horrible, I knew where their carriage was, but I was unchaperoned, so I felt a little embarassed. I pulled my opera cloak closer to me and put the head over my hair, hoping that none would recognize me. It could be scandalous to be found walking alone, but worse than that, I did not wish for anyone to ask if I needed help. It wasn't as if I was some helpless lost girl.
I saw their carriage off in the distance and saw Victoria just ahead of me. I meant to call out to her, for I could see that she was looking around for me, but in a moment, as I walked by a dark alleyway, I saw something that made my stomach turn. I stopped short and turned into the alley. There, just close enough to see, was my mother. Standing in the shadows, but I could still see her face and she was the same as she alwas had been. And then my initial sickness was turned into a sort of wild happiness - like I wanted to run to her and put my arms around her and tell how much I loved and missed her. But then my body went frigid as I understood what this meant. Charles had planted my mother's heart in the ground. He'd kidnapped Alphonse, he'd used his blood.
As we stood, facing each other, dread washed over me. I should have followed him. I should have done something other than feel jealous and stupid and naive.
A sudden start awoke me from my reverie: Mother moved closer. "Mama?" I asked, just that one word. She opened her mouth, but what came out of it was no human noise. It was guttural, feral and wild. It sounded like a whimper and a growl and a howl, all at the same time. I took a step back, stumbling on the crumbling stone street. Mother thrust her arms out to me and caught me by my shoulders. I looked around and saw the Landry's carriage ahead of me. I meant to scream, but when I opened my mouth, no sound came out. There was nothing I could do. What would happen if someone saw her here? I'd have to explain the truth and I'd probably be locked in Bedlam.
Mother, or what looked like my mother, pulled me forward and made another noise that seemed to erupt from the back of her throat. Her unusually strong arms crushed my shoulders and I struggled beneath her grasp. "Mother, what..." I finally asked, the boulder in my throat finally moving long enough for me to form words.
And then I felt stronger arms, prying my mother's hands off of me, pushing me down. As I fell on the dark stone of the alleyway, I saw Alphonse dart forward and grab my mother by the hair. He pulled out a knife and slit her throat.
Mother looked at me as she bled, looked at me with her eyes. They were her eyes, only different, darker somehow, but they were still her eyes. And even though I knew it wasn't her, somehow it wasn't her and Alphonse was okay and it was going to be all right, somehow when I looked at her, it was really like I was seeing my mother being murdered. Seeing her die all over again, even though I knew she was dead and gone, for good.
She bled too quickly and too much. Alphonse had pushed her away from him and she looked at us both, the noises from her throat becoming different each time. She fell to her knees and I watched as her legs shriveled. As she bled, her entire body withered, blackened and wrinkled in upon itself. After only a few seconds, all that remained a white hand, reaching up and bloody, at Alphonse. And after another second, that too, had become nothing. She had turned to a heap of blackened ash, and in that moment, a gust of wind blew through the alley. Her ashes blew away and it was as if nothing had ever been there.
After everything was over, I was still half laying on the ground, while Alphonse was standing. I took one shaky look at him, turned away and vomited onto the dark stones. And when there was nothing left in my stomach, I felt the world fall away softly until it was nothing but a deep, black void.
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