Lament

I knew little of Mr. and Mrs. Octavian Dalrymple, but their house was grand and many were in attendance of their party so I knew they must be a good family. Mrs. Dalrymple, nee Juliet Dickinson, was a beautiful younger woman whose two children, Horace and Esther, aged 11 and 8 respectively, had received her black hair and stunning blue eyes. The two children stayed up to welcome guests, but were quickly ushered upstairs, however, as I was introduced to our hostesses, I caught a glimpse of Esther looking down at the party, her expression filled with obvious envy.

Fine, you may take my place here, I thought to myself as I clutched onto Glenn's arm. I was here tonight to flirt with men and try to make them reveal their secrets, I was here to decieve men, to trick them. It mattered little if they were 'good' or 'bad', I was doing a terrible thing all the same. And I had been deserted by the one man I imagined myself spending the rest of my life with, he had thrown me away like last season's fashions. I was nothing to him.

Oh lord, how hard it had been to sleep last night. I could only think of Alphonse and his empty eyes. It felt as if my heart had been ripped from my ribcage and stomped on the ground. It felt shattered and now I truly understood what it meant to be heartbroken. I had been foolish, those months when he was away. I had thought there was still hope, I had thought he would come back the same as he had left. But how could he? He had seen things, he had been places...there was no way my beautiful, innocent Alphonse could stay the same, could return to me unchanged...

I understood this, and yet I did not want to. So I thrust those feelings from my head and I made myself think only of the task ahead of me. It was a wicked thing to do, but I must flirt with men, I must be devious. So I plastered on my most coy smile and looked at Glenn. When he looked back, I winked. He grinned to me as we entered the fray of the party and followed Wren and Jules. They had their heads close together and every so often would look at certain people. I let my eyes slide to these certain people - these were the men, I knew.

Neither Victoria nor Olive had been invited to this party and it was true, I knew very few people here. I did not travel in this circle but I was not at all surprised that Wren managed an invitation. She knew many people and intimidated far more.

Wren turned back to me, detached herself from Jules and grabbed my elbow. "All right," she breathed silkily into my ear, "we're going to introduce you to Mrs. Isabelle Havaillard, widow to Mr. Ernest Havaillard. She's close with most of the men here and she'll help you to get introduced to all the ones we want you to be introduced to. Then just smile, act pretty and bat your lashes. This is no time to show that you have a brain, by the way. And this is no time to ask questions."

Letting Wren tell me what to do bothered me far more than I intended to let on. Instead, I just let her lead me towards Mrs. Havaillard, Glenn and Jules in tow. They were chatting gaily as they trailed us, but I could tell that they were paying attention for anything...unusual. And in a strange way, so was I. I had seen hide nor hair of the Green Man since that first night at Almack's but my eyes still unconsciously looked for him in the shadows of the rooms. I knew I was being silly and irrational, but my dreams were not ceasing and I continued to wake up with anxiety in my chest.

Mrs. Havaillard was an aging lady whose unnaturally ebony locks contrasted sharply with her sagging face. Her eyes were still bright, however, and they held a certain sharpness. I could tell right off that she was an excellent gossip.

Wren tossed her auburn curls back and smiled a glowing smile as she reached the older woman. "Mrs. Havaillard! I don't believe I've had the honor of introducing Faerie Brighton to you before tonight. She is a close friend of mine and it is her first season out in London," said Wren as she kissed Mrs. Havaillard on both of her cheeks. The older woman's eyes lit up when she saw me.

"Ah! The famous, or should I say infamous Miss Brighton! Well, you certainly do have your mother's beauty. My goodness, I had a feeling we'd meet but I didn't know it would be so soon into the season." She said, kissing my cheeks, her voice full of excitement to have met me. I could not say the same for myself. The way she said infamous made me worried - as if people were talking badly about me.

Of course, I shouldn't be too surprised. Not only did I not attend church, I was living with the widow of my guardian. Not even my father or mother. It was an unusual thing, and it was something that would continuously set me apart from the other young ladies. "Well Faerie is angling for a husband, as I'm sure all the young ladies are," said Wren serenley, "and I knew you were the person we should go to. You know most of the people here, so you can introduce Faerie to all of the eligable young batchelors...in fact, I've already thought of a few that I think she'd be compatible with."

"My goodness, Wren, you're just as crafty as I remember!" exclaimed Mrs. Havaillard with a wink. Wren smiled what I could tell was a forced smile and produced a small piece of parchment. She handed it to Mrs. Havaillard, who looked at it carefully. This must be a list of names that Guillame had given her of all the younger men in the Illuminata. "Hmm...not all the men on this list are in attendence, but I will most certainly see what I can do."

With that, I was thrown into dancing with young man after young man. I had scarcely a moment to rest before Mrs. Havaillard would toss another young man at me. Every time I caught Wren's eye she would grin and nod. She too, was dancing with some of the same men I had danced with, but it did not look as if she was doing the same thing I was. I did my best to flirt and act as airheaded as I could, as Wren had instructed. Sadly, it was easy to see she'd been right. All the men I'd danced with seemed to appreciate my lack of my own mind - or what they thought was a lack of my own mind.

After ten consecutive partners, I was exhausted and told Mrs. Havaillard - before she had time to thrust another young man upon me - that I had to find the punch or I would simply perish of thirst. She pointed me in the direction of the food and no sooner than I'd started off towards it than I was joined by Jules Haverford. "Let me accompany you so you aren't attacked by another young man," he said with a sympathetic smile. I grinned.

"Men are like wolves. They'll go for anything that moves," I responded. Then I gasped. "Oh dear, that was terribly insulting of me. I did not mean you, of course," I told Jules and he laughed.

"I understand completely. Did you find anything out, though?" he inquired.

I shook my head no. "Wren told me not to ask questions. Tonight, she said, is just to introduce myself, get them to find me amiable, that whole business. Once I get closer to them I can start asking them. If anyone mentions anything I'll simply feign adoration and simper a question. Not to seem curious, but to seem enthralled with them," I explained to Jules my plan which I had formulated during one of the many dances. We were now at the punch table and Jules ladeled me a small glass full. I drank it thirstily, despite its tepidness and the sting of alcohol.

"You've certainly thought this through," Jules remarked as he drank his own punch.

I raised an eyebrow. "I've had more than enough time to," I muttered back, which garnered a bark of laughter. I grinned, my insides suddenly jumping. I had made him laugh again! Ah, he must think me such a wit! My thoughts were vain, I knew, but for once in my life, I wished to be vain. I deserved that, didn't I?

"Ah! Miss Brighton, here you are!" exclaimed an already all-too familiar voice. I flashed a look at Jules before turning around to not only see Mrs. Havaillard, but someone else. Alphonse. Before I could say anything further, Mrs. Havaillard plunged on. "I've just been informed that you were in attendence of Mr. Alphonse Renshaw, the Earl of Blackpool's welcoming party last night, but that you didn't exactly make acquaintance. My lord, this is Miss Faerie Brighton. She comes all the way from Northumberland and she's a close friend of Wren Morgenstern, who I've been a connection of since she was just a little one."

I curtsied blindly and Alphonse's eyes never left mine. They were different, to be sure, but there was still something off about their difference. As if he was cold, but there was something hidden deep within him. As if there was still a trace of the boy I once loved in him somewhere. "I would be delighted," he said softly, slowly, in the same voice I remembered, "if you would join me for the next dance."

Damn. I was trapped, there was absolutely no way I could say no. I looked at Jules, who was smiling and talking to Mrs. Havaillard. "I would be honored," I said carefully instead and let Alphonse hold his arm out to me. I took it, feeling the expensive silk even beneath my gloved fingers. His dress was impeccable and his hair once again silky smooth and tied back with another ribbon. It was not wild and tangled the way it had once been, the way it had been the very first night I'd met him...oh, my aching heart. It just would not do to think of this.

We were to be silent, then. At least, that was what I hoped. What could I say to him? Why aren't you the same? Why did you leave for so long? Why did you leave me? I miss you. I love you. No, these would not do, even if they were screaming in my head. My mouth stayed silent, the way a true lady was supposed to behave.

"You're different." This came from Alphonse and I was more than a little surprised to hear him say this to me. "Your eyes don't hold the same passion in them anymore. It's as if you've...grown up."

"Yes well, I'm no longer a child," I said curtly. "You're not exactly the same, either."

"I'm no longer a child, either."

I looked at him then. Really looked at him. When I'd known him, he'd always looked sickly pale. He had a certain beauty that could never really be told because he was so weak looking all the time. So fragile, like he would break. Now he was flushed. Before he had looked so pale it was like he was made out of marble. He'd gained weight and had grown. It was true, he no longer was a child. He was a grown man, beautiful like a man, but with all the features that I'd fallen in love with. Then I looked at his eyes. And for a moment, the cold blackness that had clouded his eyes went away. His eyes always had been dark, but for a moment they held a warmth. An uncertainty. A hope.

"Oh Alphonse," I heard myself whisper despite myself. There was a longing in my voice that I couldn't have erased, even if I'd wished to. He swallowed and once again, the sheild was on against his eyes. And then the song was dying. People were clapping and I found myself quite alone on the dance floor.

Wren joined me then and her face was hard. "What did he have to say for himself?" she asked.

I shook my head, my eyes closed. I knew if I opened them they'd just leak against my will. "Nothing," I said to her, my voice choked. "At least, nothing of consequence." Finally, I felt it was safe to open my eyes. They were misty but I blinked away the wetness. Wren was looking at me, obviously concerned.

"Hm well, I do believe that is all right for tonight. Ten gentlemen should be enough for now. Either way, I promised Lily I would not have you out too late. She seems concerned that you've been going to too many balls, she thinks you'll get worn out." Wren's voice was stern, but I recognized the worry within it and I smiled.

We were quiet the way home and I was happy with that, I did not wish to speak to her or Glenn. Jules had taken his own carriage here and I was so glad for that. At least with Glenn and Wren, they understood the reason for my quiet, but Jules would not. I could not bear to see him confused as to my suddenly frigid mood. I kept my eyes to the window of the carriage and watched Mayfair at night. There were people out, society's finest walking the streets. In the brightly lit windows of the best houses of town there were parties, balls, dinners, soirees. All around me society was still going but...

Was it awful to say that suddenly I missed Deathcreeke? For all it was, at least it was far away from the prying eyes of London's gossipers. At least if I did not wish to speak to anyone I could hide out. At least I would not have to pretend to want to be there.

Our townhouse was lit up upon my arrival. Lily had not gone out tonight and I found comfort in thinking that she was waiting for me. Glenn, ever the gentleman, helped me out of the carriage and led me up the front steps. "He obviously cannot see what a wonderful young lady you have turned out to be and therefore, he is worth nothing. This is what you must keep telling yourself," he said to me, a sparkling smile shining on his wide, jolly face.

"He said that I was different. That my eyes no longer held a passion," I replied, finally telling someone about what Alphonse had told me.

Glenn's face softened. "Oh Fae..." he said. "You have grown up, you have changed, this is to be sure. But what you have lost in wild adolesence you have made up in grace and poise. We cannot stay children forever, and you have seen too much to escape adulthood."

"I know," I said quietly.

"Sleep now, you will feel better in the morning. I nodded and Glenn kissed my cheek softly. He knocked the knocker on the front door and as soon as a footman had opened the door, he was gone down the stairs and into his own carriage. Despite everything, I did find solace in his words and smiled to the footman as I stepped inside. Lily was not downstairs, as I found quickly, and made my way upstairs. Her room was dark and when I opened the door, I saw that she was sleeping soundly in her bed.

Making my way to my own room, I decide against asking Jeannette for help undressing. The time it took to get undressed would give me time to think, at least. And I had much to think about. I closed my eyes and opened the door to my room.

Taking a deep breath, I closed the door and leaned against it and opened my eyes, only to shut them immedietley.

Crouching in the corner of my room, near the fireplace, was the Green Man, his wings ripped and unfurled against his back, his clothes tattered and torn, his hair wild and black. His head turned in the slightest towards me, so I could see his pale, sallow chin. "Hello, Faerie."