Lament

The first time I was able to talk with Victoria was at the welcoming party for the new Earl of Blackpool, later that week. I found her before Olive did and was able to give her a long hug while she sniffled softly into my ear. When I pulled back to look at her, it was the first time I truly hated being a young lady. A woman at all, for that matter. We were not our own property, we were the property of our fathers, and then our husbands. Victoria did not even have any say in who would be her owner, who would be her master. Her father was putting her at the mercy of a man who had never been known to be...kind.

"Where is he?" I asked quietly. She shrugged - very unlady like, but I cared little - and wiped a single tear that was forming at her eyelid. "Has he...done anything to you yet?" I asked even quieter, but in a more rushed tone.

Victoria gasped. "No, no he hasn't even touched me. That's what makes me so afraid." She turned to see if anyone was listening to our conversation and then let her eyes fall back upon me. "I just know that once we are married...oh Lord," her eyes welled up now and I embraced her again, damn what anyone had to say about it. "I do not want to think about it. I will put it out of my head. At least he has not asked me to dance. We have hardly even spoken."

It was then that Olive joined us and she latched onto Victoria. "Oh Victoria," she moaned into our friends' shoulder. When she pulled away, Olive herself was looking a little hazy-eyed. "If only there was something we could do. If we could, you know, scare him off, make you look ill, or something...I do not know, I am a terrible schemer," said Olive. Clearly she had been giving this a lot of thought. Truth be told, so had I. I had done my best to think of ways to prevent their marriage, but so far, only silly ideas came to mind. Which only then reminded me of the time I foolishly tied my bedclothes together and escaped out my window on them when I was trying to save Alphonse.

Before we could talk much further on the subject, we were joined by a certain Jules Haverford. I hadn't any chance to introduce Viscount Farnsworth to my friends or vice versa, and I curtsied now. Victoria and Olive curtsied as well, but they gave me interested looks. "May I have the pleasure of introducing Miss Victoria Landry and Miss Olive Abbott?" I asked him and he bowed, taking off his jaunty top hat.

He looked at Victoria first. "It is my duty to give you my heartiest congratulations on your marriage, however," with this, he leaned into Victoria conspiriatorially, "we all know he's a lecher, so no one is too thrilled to see another society's rising stars as the child bride of Edmund Smythe." Victoria smiled at that, the first real smile I'd seen on her face all night. Farnsworth then clicked his heels. "Of course, I must admit this is not the reason I came to see you. I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Miss Brighton?" he asked.

Olive and Victoria stared at me know with sparks in their eyes. I felt heat come across my cheeks. He couldn't be about to propose, we hardly know each other! But what if he was? Oh dear. I'd have to politely decline, but tell him that I did feel something of interest for him, so he would not lose hope. This would have to be done fairly lightly, though, there was nothing worse than wounding an attractive gentleman's feelings. Or so my governess had told me all winter. And now that I was walking the tightwire of society..."Ah yes, of course you may, Mr. Haverford, although I must tell you that I cannot be away for too long or Lily will worry."

Mr. Haverford slipped his elbow into mine and laughed. "Of course not, Miss Brighton. I would hate to make your lovely guardian worry." With that, he led me out of the grand ballroom of the new Earl of Blackpool. I hadn't been introduced to him yet, but that was nothing of consequence. I focused my attention back on the charming Mr. Haverford as he led me out of the room and into a small, dark alcove. Although it was not really important that I hadn't met the Earl yet, I did hope he wouldn't think it impertinent of a young man to make a proposal to a young woman in his own private alcove.

However, I needn't have worried, for standing in the alcove were Wren, Glenn and another young man I did not know. He had a passably handsome face, but when he grinned, he looked much more attractive. Farnsworth looked at me cautiously. "Miss Brighton, this is Guillame de Sidonie a friend of mine whose family is of French aristocracy." I curtsied then and we made our appropriate 'how-do-you-do's' before Wren chuckled. It was not a carefree chuckle, but rather, an annoyed one.

"You act, Jules, as if we honestly need the formalities. I say right here and right now that we should all feel free to use each other's given names. We are all working towards the same goal now anyways." I looked at her curiously, but was excited for a reason to use Farnsworth's name. "Guillame is involved in a very interesting society that has ties all over the world," Wren explained to me. "It is called the Illuminata."

I scoffed. "The men who believe in all those conspiracy theories against the King and Queen?" I asked, noticing that my arm was still tucked safely with Farnsworth's - Jules's. Wren noticed it too, for she looked down at us with a dissaproving glare. She opened her mouth and I knew she was about to say something snide when Guillame interrupted her.

"It is not so trivial anymore, ma cherie," said Guillame with a lilting French accent. "The Illuminata has recently become interested in the ancient art of Alchemy. They would be pleased to know of the Philosopher's Stone. However, I am not planning on saying a word, because Wren and Glenn both believe that someone in the society is...not good."

"You think that someone in the society already knows about Al...about the Philosopher's Stone? What it is? What it does?" Guillame nodded with a very grave look in his eyes. I felt my stomach clenched in worry and looked to Jules. "And may I ask...what is your connection to all this?" I inquired. Jules shrugged.

"I belive that Wren told you how the Haverford and Morgenstern families have been connected for a long time and at one point, there was a relation?" He did not wait for my answer, but went on, "after my father died, I spent much time going through his old journals and books and read more about the mysterious art of Alchemy. He spoke of the Philosopher's Stone, what it did, and how the Morgensterns were related to it. I wrote to Wren asking her to confirm, and she did. My father had always been interested in Alchemy, but I did not know how much. I am committed against the sin of homunculi, for he wrote eagerly about how it was the most vile of procedures."

Shuddering, I thought briefly about Charles's intention for me the night of the Blood Moon and turned to Wren. She seemed to know what I was thinking. "Guillame has been kind enough to provide me with a list of names of men who are not only in the Illuminata but who are expressing great interest in the Philosopher's Stone. Most say they don't know too much about it, but we can never be too sure. If you wouldn't mind, Faerie, I can point out a few younger men I was hoping you'd...talk to."

"You mean flirt with," I answered bluntly and she smiled lightly. The men, however, chuckled, even Jules. I burned with pleasure. He thought me witty! And even better, he didn't find a witty woman disgusting! Turning my eyes to him, I watched as he looked at me back. He smiled to me a secret smile and I felt my inside positively melt.

Wren shrugged, not catching the secret smile as I had hoped she wouldn't. "Well, I said before that this would be your task and you said you'd help." A couple passed by the small opening to where we were standing. Wren caught my elbow with hers. "Now, I'll take you around and show you who you must speak to," she said to me. I turned to her, alarmed.

"But I can't. I have to go to Victoria!" I exclaimed. Wren flashed me a confused look. "She is marrying Edmund Smythe, as Jules told us, only a few days ago! I must go be with her, I cannot stay with you this entire night...I'm sorry, but I have no idea the next time I'll be able to see her," I implored. Wren looked annoyed.

"Fine. There is another ball tomorrow night at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Dalrymple. I'll send you a note, and you shall come with Glenn and I. There I will show you the men you must talk to, the men you must get to spill their deepest secrets." She dropped my elbow then. "Go on then, now. Go to your friend." Her voice sounded weary and I curtsied to all of them before taking my leave. Victoria was now engaged in a dance with Sir Roger Cornwallis, the man who had had been looking at Olive the last time we had all been together. Olive was engaged in conversation with none other than Lily. I made my way over to them. Olive smiled at me when she saw me.

"Has Victoria said anything more about Mr. Smythe?" I asked and Olive shook her head.

Lily frowned. "It is just awful that she is going to be his next bride..." she leaned in towards us then, her delicate features lined with worry, "and I can't help but think, his next victim." Her ominous words made my stomach turn and Olive and I looked at each other.

"She said she wished she would get a proposal before me...we were trying to outdo each other, oh, we were so stupid! she sighed in frusteration. I stared at Victoria, who was smiling to Sir Cornwallis, who looked like a kind man. Sir Cornwallis's gentle eyes kept fliting towards our party and I knew he was looking at Olive. He was young enough to be smitten but old enough to know that Olive was a very smart match. It seemed unfair that Olive and I should already find suitors (well, at least I hoped Jules would eventually be a suitor) that were nice men who hid nothing cruel behind their smiles.

I remembered the time just before Lily and I had departed Deathcreeke Manor for London. I had stood with Victoria and Olive and they had laughed, for they had nothing to worry about other than which handsome man they would marry. Now I knew I had been foolish. I thought there was nothing bad in the frilly, frothy world of the London Season. How could I have overlooked the terrible men who hurt their wives? It was common practice here. I should be used to it. And yet I was indignant. Innocent women, like my beautiful Victoria, should never be hurt.

The dance ended and Sir Cornwallis came to deliver Victoria to us. I expected him to ask Olive for the next dance, or even me for we had been introduced and had danced before (and I'd found that he was very good at making conversation and did not mind one bit if a lady had a good head on her shoulders), but the music did not start up again. Instead, two coronets blew at the top of the grand staircase. There were two rigid footman standing on a balcony I had not seen before. Looking around, I saw that everyone had gone quiet and was looking at the footmen. "Presenting the new Earl of Blackpool, Lord Alphonse Renshaw!"

My heart stilled. The room was silent. From behind the footmen appeared the new Earl of Blackpool...the boy I'd once known as Alphonse Wainwright.

He was nothing like I'd remembered. He was not the same as the boy who'd left me to run after his father. Here stood a man and it was hard to believe that he was only eighteen years of age. His face looked of a man in his twenties. His hair, still long and black, was now silky and tied back by a ribbon. He was dressed impeccably well and looked every inch the Earl he now was. I watched him, frozen in shock, frozen with emotions, as he came to the front of the balcony. "My late father never came much to London," said he. Charles? No, no, he had to be talking about the former Earl, his supposed 'father'... "But I assure you I am here for a good while. Thank you for blessing me with your company in my home. Please return to your merrymaking."

In that moment, he surveyed the crowd and our eyes met. My stomach dropped, my hands shook. His eyes were not the same as they once had been. Once they had held kindness, once they had spoken of flying away from the evil of Deathcreeke. Now they were empty and dark. Dead. He turned away from me and started down the grand staircase. The boy I'd loved was gone. In his place was a total stranger, a man I'd never met before.

Turning back to my conversation, I saw that Lily was staring at Alphonse, no, he was an Earl now. Lord Blackpool. In my own emotion I had forgotten that Lily was Blackpool's natural mother. Her face was white, but her eyes held more hurt than I could have ever imagined. Wiping away all my personal feelings, I clutched onto Lily. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly. Victoria, Olive and Sir Cornwallis were chatting gaily next to us. Lily looked at me, but her eyes were far away.

I tapped Victoria on the shoulder. She turned to me. "Lily has gone white as a sheet. I think it's her corset stays. Her ladies maid did them a bit too tight tonight, I believe. I think I will take her home. Please tell anyone who asks that we have retired for the night." She looked at Lily, saw her white face and nodded solemnly. With a sigh, I put an arm around Victoria's small body. "We will figure something out. You will not marry Mr. Smythe. That is a promise."

Victoria smiled at me, and I led Lily out of Blackpool's house. But before I was out, Wren stopped me. There was some fear in her eyes. Glenn came up behind her. "That is no Alphonse Renshaw. That is our Alphonse Wainwright, the Philosopher's Stone," she said to me, as if I didn't know.

"Yes, thank you for telling me, I was thoroughly confused. I couldn't be sure if the man who just ignored me was my former fiacne or not, so thank you for clearing that up for me!" I spat. Wren and Glenn flashed each other a look.

Glenn came and took Lily's other arm without a word. "You will still come with me tomorrow night to the ball. It is important, especially now the Stone has stupidly walked into the trap his father has so obviously set for him," she said to me.

I laughed a cold laugh. "But Wren, how can that be? His father is the former Earl of Blackpool. This is not the Alphonse who left us the night of the Blood Moon. This man is altogether different."

Wren looked back, as did I. Blackpool was talking with an older woman who had her two daughters in tow. As I looked at him, my heart ached and squeezed. This truly was not the man who had left me. As he spoke, my eyes trailed to his lips, and I tried to remember the feel of his kiss. The effort was useless. My memory was as cold and as empty as Blackpool's eyes. Wren turned back and looked straight at me. "Yes, yes, that is what I am afraid of."