Fear Of The Dark

[[ZACK]]

I was sat in the drawing room, in front of the ever-raging fire, reading the newspaper. It was reporting about how the Ripper was a man. I snorted at that. Of course he was a man.

Hearing a noise, I looked up and saw Kirsty sitting in one of the chairs, a cup and saucer in one hand. She looked at me. "Where is Sarah?" She asked. I stared at her confused for a moment.

"I do not know. I haven't seen her since last night." She frowned, "Do you think you could go find her? I just want to know she's okay." I sighed softly before nodding, getting up and heading out of the room. I walked towards Sarah's room, and knocked on the door, getting no response.

After a few minute, I opened the door up warily, looking round the room and noting that she wasn't inside. Closing the door behind me, I began to do a sweep of the house. I couldn't find her anywhere, and I was starting to worry about her. I rushed past the library door, before stopping, realising I hadn't checked that room.

I opened the door hurriedly, the smell of books instantly hitting me. Looking inside, I noted the two comfortable armchairs in front of the fire, which was lit and blazing away. I walked towards them, and sighed in relief, seeing Sarah curled up in one of the chairs, absorbed in a book.

I sat in the other chair, and watched her. She hadn't even noticed me arrive. I coughed softly, and she started, looking up at me with wide eyes. Upon seeing it was me, she calmed herself, and smiled at me.

"Hello," she greeted me, with a smile that made me have to look away. Brian was right. Then again he's always right.

"What are you reading?" I asked politely. She smiled again, and I almost groaned. Why did she have to keep smiling? "Oh, just a book I found in here. You have so many. I've never seen anything like this. I love it," she said, her voice thick with adoration. I couldn't help but smile.

"So Miss Drayton, do you know any languages?" I asked, smiling at her. I myself only knew bits of Italian, thanks to my mother. But as Kirsty knew French, maybe she knew something. A bit much to ask of a slums girl, but she'd surprised me so much, I wouldn't put it past her.

"Yes actually, I know bits of Spanish. Not fluent like Kirsty is in French. But, there was a Spanish family who lived next to me for many years, they taught me a lot. Enough to get me by in Spain anyway," she said, a small smile graced her lips as she remembered.

"Speak some then. I would like to hear this, and don't worry, I only know bits of Italian, so you're in the same boat as me," I said, smiling graciously at her. Her cheeks tinged pink at my request.

"What would you like me to say?" She asked quietly, shyness evident in her voice. I smiled at this. I wasn't used to her being shy. I was used to her having a fiery temperament, we'd argued enough times.

"I don't know, anything," I smiled encouragingly at her. "Tu casa es muy bonito y me gusta mucho. Gracias por la amabilidad." I grinned, as I didn't understand a word she just said. "What did you say?" I asked eagerly.

"Your house is very pretty and I like it a lot. Thank you for your kindness." I grinned at this, "That was fantastic. You know, you put yourself down a lot for not being wealthy, you really shouldn't," I said, smiling softly at her. She looked at me confused.

"What do you mean?" She asked politely. I smiled. "You've surprised everyone you know. To say you're from, well, a lower background, you fooled everyone yesterday. Admittedly you could brush up on some areas, but apart from that, no-one even suspected you where from the lower end of town." She blushed at this.

"Plus you just plain surprise us. I mean, your medical knowledge is astounding, your temperament and attitude, although not exactly right for wealth, means you can stand your own ground. And now I find out you know bits of another language. Altogether it's very impressive, and it makes me wonder why you have not yet married. I know Kirsty's parents had found a suitor for her, but what about you?"

I only realised how I'd made that sound once I'd said it. It made me sound interested in her. Although I was interested of course, I didn't mean to imply it. I don't think she noticed though, or if she did, she masked it anyway.

"My parents don't want me to be with someone whom I don't love. They don't believe in that. In the slums, you learn family values. I'd much rather marry someone I like and whom I would willingly spend the rest of my life with, rather than someone whom I have never met. Unfortunately, the only men I've ever been interested in, don't reciprocate."

I frowned. Firstly because I couldn't believe the men she'd been interested in hadn't liked her back. Secondly, because I got an unusual feeling in my stomach when I heard about her being interested in them. It twisted inside me, and was a sour feeling. I knew what it was, and I wasn't proud of it. I was jealous.

My grandparents would be turning in their grave if they knew I was currently riddled with jealousy over the love interests of a slum girl.

I couldn't help but want to be one of those love interests. I wanted to know that I was the object of her desire. Even though I wouldn't be able to mirror the feelings for her, at least not publicly.

"I still don't understand it. Any sane man would sell their right arm to get a woman like you." An eyebrow rose at me, and my cheeks tinged pink slightly. I really should keep quiet now.

"So, Mr Baker-" I interrupted her, "Don't call me that, please, it makes me sound old. Call me Zack." She paused before nodding, a small smile on her lips.

"Okay, Zack. You know about me. I want to know about you. I only know that you're rich beyond my wildest dreams, can turn into a dog whenever you so wish and that your name is Zachary Baker." I smiled wryly at her.

"Okay then. My full name is Zachary James Baker, by the way, you're last name is far nicer than mine." She smiled at this. "I was born in California on the coast on December 11th 1866, making me 21 years old. Err, my family have always been rich I suppose, both sides of the family had old money." She looked at me confused.

"My father is German and my mother is Italian. Both of the families on either side can be traced back hundreds of years, and the families have always been rich. So it's old money. My family still live in California, but don't use their money so much, and so I took a lot to come here with the guys." She nodded at this.

"I don't really know anything else you want to find out," I said, shrugging. She looked at me for a moment. "You said you didn't know why I wasn't married. What about you?" I gulped and froze slightly.

"Well, men don't have to get married remember? Besides, like you, I haven't found a girl who reciprocates my feelings for her," I didn't dare tell her it wasn't allowed right now. We had to stop the Ripper, and that meant no emotional drama. Unfortunately my heart had never been one to follow rules.

"Oh, very well then. I suppose we shall both just have to wait for the right person then shall we not?" She said, smiling. I nodded slowly. It wasn't a case of waiting. It was a case of getting the courage to go against everything I had been taught and following my heart for once.

A test of courage I had yet to pass.