Butterflies and Hurricanes

Our crossing of the Atlantic to the land of America was nothing short of being reminiscent of the London weather, with the added annoyance of the constant rocking of the ship that churned my stomach. And I had to endure that for 2 weeks before we even reached America, whereupon we had to set about a coach trip across its vast expanse.

I hadn't actually envisaged such a trip. It seemed easier to get to India than it did to this America, though to be perfectly honest I barely remember my travels to India since I was such a young girl at the time. Plus, I have grown so much since then and I am not even nineteen yet.

London when I last saw it had been set about in a state of peace, save for the sad losses of the Ripper's victims, God rest their poor souls. It was still grey and drizzly, the social differences harsh and very definitive but it was at last safe from the Ripper's cruel grasp.

The newspapers had reported several theories: that he had been killed, or that "he has fled the country fearing capture by a gang of mysterious "Lycanthropes", a species of man able to change at will to the form of a wolf, seen fleeing the street on the night of Jack the Ripper's first murder by a local merchant."

Only those who were there that fateful night knew the truth of the entire matter and it would stay that way for eternity, no matter how troubled it caused our souls to become.

But it had finally meant I could officially declare my love for Brian. Their purpose was complete, the danger was eradicated from the streets of London town, and the Forbidden Law was forgotten. They were no longer protecting now.

California had come as a pleasant surprise to me. All I had to go on were the accounts of the five American's I had come to grow extremely fond of - some more so than others - over those months, and so I don't think I was completely prepared for it when we reached their home of Huntington Beach.

But as I said, it was pleasant to finally shake off the drizzle and depression of the smoky city for this town was beautiful, and the air was so fresh it was unbelievable. Unless you ever visit the countryside it is hard to see just how filthy and cloggy the air is in London.

The Haner household was a large imposing building, but not imposing in the way that 165 Eaton Place had been. It was a single, stand-alone house, rather than tall and squished in brick-to-brick between other similar looking houses. It was separated from the dusty road into the town by a high stone wall running all the way along the front of its perimeter, with white cast iron gates at its middle.

Through this gate, the coach rattled first through a thicket of dense trees until revealing a sprawling field-sized lawn, headed by the house at the very end of the drive. The garden was mightily impressive, with its neatly tended flower beds that bloomed fantastically in the sunshine adding bursts of colour through which a peacock strutted.

Magnificent trees dotted around the lawn too, adding sporadic spots of shade, one even boasting a swing from its thick elderly branches, it too a white cast iron construction, much like the railings around all of the windows of this house, as well as the door frames and the supporting struts of the eaves.

Brian's parents must be extremely rich, and I was suddenly very nervous of meeting them.

Especially when into my sight came a line-up of what could only have been the servants. And I was horrified to see many of them were black. So the Haner's brought into the slave trade, huh?

I think Brian sensed my unease because he gripped my delicate hand within his and smiled reassuringly at me. "Don't worry, my parents didn't buy into the slave trade," he began. "They merely offered them a place of work and residence when their former employees cast them off. They may leave whenever they wish."

"Good," I couldn't help but retort.

I was trying to be obedient, I really was but it was so easy to open my mouth and shoot it off sometimes. I guess my mind just ran away with my mouth occasionally.

Brian chuckled lightly, before the coach finally stopped moving and the carriage door was opened. I let Brian climb out first, wanting to deliberate time slightly by placing my bonnet on top of my head, and tie the ribbon beneath my chin to prevent it falling or blowing off.

When I was finally happy and I knew I couldn't put off the meeting any longer, I at last descended from the carriage. Now I was stood upon the gravel, the house loomed even more above my head. But I didn't let that thought fill my mind. It was the fact Brian was leading me towards the well dressed man and woman who both looked like him.

Finally we stopped and he retracted his arm before moving over to the woman and engulfing her in a hug. "Mother," he smiled, holding his hands on her shoulders and looking down at her. Granted, she was taller than me but not as tall as Brian, Brian was tall like the man I figured was his father.

They were uncannily alike in appearance.

And finally it was my turn to be introduced. Brian's smile at me never once faltered as he placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me forward, his eyes not leaving my face. "Mother, father, I would like you to meet Lady Kirsty de Farrars," he said finally looking away. "The love of my life."

Mrs Haner's eyes widened before she stepped forward with open arms and came to kiss both my cheeks in a friendly manner. "It is my absolute pleasure to welcome you to our home," she smiled, stepping back once more and clasping her hands together in front of her.

"I hope you weren't breaking laws?" Mr Haner now asked, raising an eyebrow slightly at his son with a knowing look. Did they know why he was in London? Did they even know he was a werewolf in the first place?

"No, we kept to ourselves most of the time," Brian replied. "But the job is done."

Maybe his father knew?

"Well I heard you did very well," Mrs Haner spoke up, pinching his cheek slightly, his face turning red from the embarrassment as he growled quietly and shook her off.

"Mo-om!" He whined, rubbing his face. "I'm twenty-one not five. Stop embarrassing me."

"Brian, you do not need to act such the tough guy any longer," she simply retorted. "I am quite sure that Lady de Farrars knows your soft side, am I correct?"

I flashed a sly grin up at Brian who's cheeks were still red as he frowned at his mother. I ran a soft hand over his cheek before tiptoeing and kissing it gently. His scowl subsided and was replaced by a goofy grin. His parents cast 'as I expected' looks at each other.

Before anymore could be said about him, he urged everyone inside out of the sunshine which had been heating my bare shoulders to the point of being too much. I would come to live with it though, I expect. But the inside of the house was far more grand than what the outside would have you believe.

Polished wooden flooring; a grand staircase with a deep red velvet carpet up its centre; paintings larger than Brian hung upon the wall depicting various scenes and people; vases filled with flowers on small cabinets...as I said the grandeur of the outside was nothing compared to this.

It was quite possibly the grandest house I had stepped foot in.

Brian chuckled, giving me a light push in the direction his parents had disappeared and I followed hastily into a spacious drawing room with a fire that wasn't lit, it simply had a large vase sitting inside it, and the walls were covered in chintz. Damn, that stuff was expensive, he must be rich!

When I stopped staring, I realised I was sat upon a sofa, with Brian sat back beside me, his left arm stretched out across the back of it and his legs crossed looking most relaxed. I, however, was perched on the very edge, my back as straight as a pencil with my hands tidy in my lap and my bonnet neatly laid beside me.

"So anyway," Mrs Haner began as a maid scurried away from the room. "How was the trip?"

"It was treacherous," Brian replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "And I am thankful we shall not be making the return trip anytime soon."

"I'm glad," Mrs Haner sighed with a thankful smile at her son. "Why they couldn't have gotten somebody from London to have done the job, I don't know."

"Mother, I am glad I went or I would never have fallen as in love as I have, and I would not be sat here with my beautiful future wife beside me." Brian flashed a smile at me and I felt my cheeks flush red from his compliment.

"And how old are you?" His father asked, turning his eyes on me. There was something quite wild about his eyes that made me wonder if he was quite possibly a werewolf himself.

"I am eighteen, sir," I answered politely, my heart racing because I was so nervous. I had heard it was a trying time for a young woman to meet her future in-laws but I didn't expect it to be this nerve racking. Unless that was just because the Haner's were rich beyond even my fathers wildest dreams and the very rich were hard to impress.

"And you hold a title I see?" He nodded his head to himself, but I didn't answer him because this sounded like a rhetorical question or as if he was talking to himself. I glanced at Brian as his father pondered whatever he was pondering. Though I was guessing he was thinking about our match.

Brian was a millionaire heir and I was a Lady. Couldn't get better than that I suppose, short of Brian announcing his engagement to Queen Victoria. Though I highly doubt that would happen, I heard she was very highly strung.

"I must say, I am terribly thankful to have you both sat here in one piece after what happened," Mrs Haner said, breaking the silence and holding a hand to her heart. "Poor Zachary. I can't think what his parents must be going through."

"The doctors have told him he will make a full recovery," I replied, smiling softly. I suddenly felt less uncomfortable. "It is just going to take time, but with Sarah at his side he is in more than capable hands."

"Does he remember much?" Mrs Haner then asked.

"I don't think so," Brian said scratching his chin almost in an absent-minded manner. "But then none of us really want to push things. Best him recover first before we ask questions."

And then silence. Was this what an obedient fiancée would do? Sit in complete silence whilst her father-in-law contemplated his daughter-in-law and son, her mother-in-law surveyed the tray that a maid had just carried in, and her fiancé sat silently staring around the room he hadn't seen for months?