A repost from an old account of mine.
The thick morning fog of London clung to Beau's thin clothes as he shivered against a street corner next to his friend Tom. The two young boys huddled together to ward off the cold that the October night had left and hoped for the sun to dissipate the clouds and offer some warmth. After all, they couldn't leave to find some warm spot right now. Dirty Daniel had promised to bring them soup from the charity kitchen run by the nice nuns on Goodnow Lane, and the thought of something warm to fill their empty stomachs glued them to the wall.
"What the hell's taking him so long…?" Tom mumbled under his breath. Puffs of steam blossomed from his mouth as he spoke.
"I dunno, but I'm getting tired of waiting. I could eat a horse," Beau replied as he shifted against the wall and pulled his dirty old scarf a bit tighter around his neck.
"Think he ran into trouble?" Tom asked, shifting with Beau for the warmth.
Beau shook his head. "Nah, Dirty Dan's the fastest runner I've seen. Coppers couldn't catch him even if they wanted to." The 13-year-old transferred his weight to his other foot. "Sides, it's not like he's stealing anything for us. Just a free bowl of soup and some bread."
"Yeah," Tom muttered, looking back out onto the street at the early morning crowd, which didn't consist of too many people. Most of the factory workers were already at work, leaving only a handful of people to wander the streets. Most of them were vagrants and the poor wives of those factory workers. It was quite a sight, watching the hungover drunkards stumble about in the street, looking for a hot meal just like them. "But that's what we said about Running Ralph, and we ain't seen him for over two months."
"Ralph was also an idiot," Beau bit back, frowning and shifting uncomfortably, "So shut it, alright? Look, there he is."
Dirty Dan, covered in grime and soot as usual, was full-on sprinting towards the two boys at the street corner with empty arms and wild dark eyes. He ducked past and through clumps of people along the sidewalk, skidding to a halt before them. His panting filled the air with huge blossoms of steam as he struggled to catch his breath with his hands on his knees.
"Oy, Dan, where's the food?!" Tom demanded with fists at his side as he loomed over the much smaller boy. Beau frowned and kept and arm between the two, knowing how Tom's temper could and would get the best of him.
"Leave him be, Tom," he muttered. Something was wrong. Dirty Dan always did what he said he would, and he was such an excellent runner that the distance from Goodnow Lane's soup kitchen to here shouldn't have left him in such a state. It was very apparent that he had run from some further location if he was so winded.
Still taking heavy, deep breaths, Dan straightened up to look at them both.
"L-Look, I can't explain," he said, his words coming out in frantic bursts between breaths, "but you've gotta come with me right now, before the Yard shows up."
Both boys' eyes went big. "The Yard?!" Tom exclaimed almost too loudly, "Dan, what the bloody hell did you get yourself involved in?!"
"Nothing, I swear!" Dan defended with raised hands, "Look, we really don't have time, you gotta come now or else…!" He didn't seem to want to finish the sentence.
Beau nodded and grabbed Tom's wrist. "Come on, we'll get soup later, let's go!"
The three of them took off together, following Dan through the streets as they wove through the crowds of people. With the increasing smell of sewage and fish, Beau could tell that Dan was leading them towards the Thames. But for what? There was nothing over that way but junk shops and drug dealers. Maybe Dan had been cleaning out some poor bloke's chimney down there? But what was so important that he and Tom need see?
They reached the street that ran parallel to the river's bank, and Dan led them down to it where a new stench assaulted Beau's nose.
Rot.
A mossy rope tangled with seaweeds tied the three bodies together. Their naked bodies were displayed for all the world to see, discolored by bruises, cuts from the rope, and dark marks left by disease. Two dark boys, and one white, with a shock of red hair that was still so familiar to Beau.
Despite the bloated face and the tears that blurred his vision, he knew who the boy was. They had run from the coppers, sifted through garbage, huddled in the alleyway while the snow blanketed them enough times that Beau knew he would never forget his face.
Ralph.
The rattling of the carriages' wheels against the uneven cobblestone streets of the East End made it difficult for Vincent to read the letter that had summoned him here in the first place. The page trembled in his hand as his arm shook from the jostling of the vehicle. Glancing one last time at the royal crest emblazoned at the bottom of the stationary, he shook his head and folded the letter back up to tuck it into the inner breast pocket of his blue frock coat. He already knew what it said, and rereading it wouldn't change how pointless it felt.
"Is everything alright, my lord?" Tanaka's voice pulled the young man's eyes from the window. The old man was composed as ever despite the difficulties that the carriage was having in navigating these destitute streets.
Vincent offered him a charming smile. "Yes, it's fine. I was just thinking that we might as well check up on the Whitechapel factory while we're here," he replied with an easy tone.
"That would be an excellent opportunity," Tanaka replied, "But I think that is not all."
Damn his perception.
"I suppose I'm wondering why Her Majesty is having me waste time on a case such as this," he admitted as he folded his hands in his lap.
"It breaks her heart, the treatment these boys have obviously received," Tanaka explained, "And there have been so many lately, washing up like fish…"
Vincent grunted softly. "Maybe, but this is nothing new. The sons of poverty either work themselves to death or get sold to the brothels and pedophiles," he said coldly, "It's the way of our modern world."
"I should wonder that my lord says such things even as the father of a boy the same age as these poor ones," Tanaka remarked with a sly smile hiding beneath his moustache.
Vincent shrugged a bit. "As I said, it is the way of our modern world. Ciel was fortunate enough to be born into power. If he had been born to these streets, he would have died, but there is much that separates him from these children," he said lightly, not looking at Tanaka, who gave a bit of a chuckle.
"Fortunate? You've never used that word to describe the Phantomhive name…" Vincent huffed with another easy shrug.
"The point remains, these boys are nothing special, and I believe there are things to investigate that are more worth mine and Her Majesty's time," Vincent ended, cutting off the conversation. Tanaka merely smiled to himself.
They arrived at the bank of the Thames a minute or so later. The rattling carriage came to a stop, and Tanaka stepped out to hold open the door for Vincent. The young man stepped down onto the street, ignoring the crowds of people who had gathered to gawk at the expensive looking carriage. Instead, he headed in the direction of another crowd of people down the bank. It was a mixture of civilians and Scotland Yard, who were maintaining a perimeter around the crime scene. Tanaka followed Vincent, and a flash of his family crest to the policemen allowed them passage to the bank.
The area by the shore was much less crowded. Four men milled about, talking in low voices or writing in notebooks. Vincent recognized all of them immediately: George Frederickson, the coroner, was examining the bodies; Theodore Kirkby, the technical scientist at the Yard, was thoroughly scouring the ground; and Edward Basil, the well-known reporter, was talking to the last, Sir Arthur Randall.
Arthur shot him the usual glare as he approached with an air of easiness and a warm smile. He quickly dismissed Mr. Basil with a short bark to turn to the earl.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Straight to the point as always," Vincent said with a soft laugh as he pulled the letter from his frock coat. "I think we both know why I'm here, Sir Randall."
Vincent almost swore that he saw the man's beard bristle with anger. "Then do what you will and get out of my hair. Honestly…" Arthur grumbled as he stalked away to talk to one of his underlings. Vincent chuckled under his breath and approached the bodies. All three lay in a line on their backs in the thick mud of the river's bank, covered for modesty with a simple tarp.
"Well, George?" he announced his presence to the coroner, "What is it this time?"
The doctor looked up at him with a warm yet straight face. "They didn't die from drowning, if that's what you're thinking," he said, "Their lungs are filled with water, but see these marks?" He pointed to the spots of disease that covered their bodies. "Venereal disease. It looks as though it was rather extreme. And from further examination, they were most definitely sexually abused for a long period of time," he said quietly, looking at the bodies with a soft look of pity. "Poor boys. I know lots of them get lured in with warm food and a bed, but no one deserves this."
"Has anyone come forward to identify them?" Vincent asked, though the answer was rather obvious.
"A few orphan boys recognized the redhead. Said his name was Ralph. Ralph Byrne," George replied, "But nobody's come forward for the two blacks."
Vincent nodded, glancing over the corpses for other clues. "They were also bound together by a very nice rope. Much too expensive for most of the brothels around here that service pedophiles, or any of the boats," George continued, pointing over at Theodore, "Teddy found it. Whoever dumped the bodies must have thought they would sink if they were all together."
"Thank you, George. Is there anything else?" Vincent asked in a soft voice. George's face lit up for a second. He sifted through his pockets and pulled out a small item.
"One of them, the red-haired one, was holding this," he said, placing the small item in the earl's black gloved hand. Vincent examined the object closely and a smile spread across his face. He pocketed the item and nodded to George.
"Thank you for your hard work. This should be all I need," Vincent said politely. He offered a wave as he started back towards the carriage. "Stay well!"
George, a little dumbfounded by the significance of the item that it should end the earl's investigation so quickly, merely waved back and adopted a smile to match the nobleman's. "You too, Vincent!" he called after him.
On the way back to the street and the carriage waiting there, Vincent brushed past Sir Randall while he ordered around one of his subordinates. "I'm done here, Sir Randall. The rest is all yours," he called over his shoulder with a confident smile and an air of easiness. He could feel the man's glare on the back of his neck, and just barely heard his growl of "filthy guard dog" under the din of the crowd.
Tanaka held open the carriage door and stepped in after Vincent sat down inside. The carriage was soon off once more, bumping its way along the roads of the East End.
"Well, my lord? What is your next move?" the old man asked with a soft smile.
"We have a social visit to pay soon," Vincent replied, pulling the object from his pocket to twist it about his fingers, "After all, this boy went through a lot of trouble to keep this. It's the least we can do for his efforts." Tanaka, seeing the item that Vincent had retrieved, nodded.
"But first, a visit to the factory." Vincent smiled. "And a surprise present for Ciel."
"Do I have to wear it, Mother?" Ciel whined with an accompanying pout. Big blue eyes shone up at Rachel as she buttoned up his fur-lined coat, one which was slightly warmer than necessary for the weather that day. "I look stupid."
"Now, Ciel, you'll get sick otherwise," she chided softly as she slipped the last button into place, "You just got over a cold, so you must be careful. Alright, darling?"
Ciel huffed but seemed to accept her worry. She apologized with a gentle kiss to his forehead. "And you don't look stupid. You look like quite the handsome young man," she complimented with a small smile. "Lizzy would be quite smitten, seeing you like this," she added, but this only brought a blush to the boy's face that he fought to hide. They stood on the platform at the train station, having just gotten off from their journey. Rachel turned to Vincent who waited patiently for her to get Ciel into his coat. He smiled softly at her, then down at Ciel, who still seemed a bit perturbed by his forced outfit choice.
"Your mother's right, Ciel. Besides, you look a bit taller in it," he encouraged. Ciel's eyes lit up at the comment.
"Really?" he asked incredulous. The nod that Vincent offered him caused a smile to surge into being on the 9-year-old's face.
"Come now, we can't keep Earl Trancy waiting." Vincent held out a black-gloved hand to his son, who gladly took it. Rachel, smiling softly at the moment witnessed between father and son, took Ciel's other hand, and together they walked to the carriage that would take them to the Trancy estate.
The couple even swung the tiny boy between them as they walked, causing a fit of giggles to surge up out of his chest as he hung suspended by their hands. The moment a cough replaced a laugh, however, he was back on his feet with Rachel soothingly rubbing his back and helping him into the carriage. It was a short ride from the station to the mansion, and Rachel and Vincent spent it whispering to each other while Ciel pressed his face to the glass to watch the unfamiliar countryside roll idly by.
"Father, does Earl Trancy have any children?" Ciel asked at some point. His question broke up the two adults' serious whispers, but they both offered him a warm smile.
"No, Ciel, he does not," Vincent replied, "But he is rather fond of children. His son was kidnapped when he was very young, and we have yet to find him. He would be about your age, though." Ciel seemed fascinated by this information and, for the first time during the whole ride, sat down in his seat across from his parents.
"What was his name?" he asked with big curious eyes.
"Alois Trancy," Vincent answered, "It would be his birthday today, actually."
"Alois Trancy," Ciel repeated, testing the weight of the name on his tongue. He thought for a moment, stuffing his tongue into his cheek as he often did when thinking. "Well, happy birthday, Alois," he said quietly after a moment, as if sending a prayer up to God.
Vincent stopped himself from frowning.
Shortly afterwards, they arrived. The carriage pulled around to the entrance of the grand manor where the Earl Trancy stood waiting for them with a grand smile. With his face still pressed against the carriage window, Ciel returned the smile and waved back. Vincent and Rachel both watched the man on the steps with sharp eyes behind warm faces.
Tanaka opened the carriage door for them, and Ciel came out first, stepping carefully down to the drive. He glanced over at Earl Trancy with a bashful smile, unsure of what to do without his parents' guidance. His father came out after him and offered Rachel a hand to help her down the steps. She took it graciously, ducking her head to avoid hitting her flowered hat on the top of the door frame. With Rachel on his arm and Ciel holding his other hand, Vincent approached the earl.
"Benedict Trancy. A pleasure, as always," he greeted politely and with that deceitful smile.
"Likewise, Vincent," the old man replied, though Vincent could already see the beginnings of sweat marks beneath his arms. He also noted the way the earl's eyes lingered on Rachel's hat when he turned to her. Perched on the hat was a simple arrangement of primrose, tuberose, saffron, and oleander; it was a combination that did more than compliment Rachel's beauty, and one she had chosen herself.
"Countess," the earl greeted her as well. She curtsied slightly with the same smile Vincent wore. Finally, his eyes wandered down to the young boy clutching his father's pant leg.
"And you must be Ciel," Benedict said. The little boy nodded, smiling wide with his gorgeous big eyes.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Trancy!" he said happily, letting go of his father's leg to offer his hand. Benedict took it with an amused chuckle and shook it to appease the boy. Vincent's eyes lingered on the way he took longer than normal to remove his hand.
"Shall we go enjoy some tea in the salon?" he invited, gesturing them inside the house. Vincent walked in, side by side with Benedict, while Rachel followed, holding little Ciel's hand. Tanaka took the carriage to park it in the designated spot.
They sat in the decadently decorated parlor on red velvet couches. The gold paneling along the walls seemed ridiculously gaudy to Vincent, but he smiled and complimented the décor anyway. Benedict seemed pleased by his approval as his maid poured them all tea. Vincent watched with interest as the old man ordered her to be sure to put an extra sugar in Ciel's. The boy's face lit up, but Vincent could see he was trying to look mature, despite the fact that his feet barely touched the ground from where he sat on the couch.
They made polite conversation about nothing of real interest. Of course, Trancy inquired into the growth of his business, and Vincent could see the way he was sizing him up. Everything was political, after all. The conversation drifted in and out of topics, occasionally touching on Rachel and Ciel.
After a while, Vincent noticed the twitching in Ciel's legs and the distracted way he kicked his feet when he glanced out the window. Even for a boy as well behaved and quiet as he always was, this was surely getting to be rather tiring on the spirit. It was time for their plan to take action. He shot Rachel a glance while Trancy said something to the boy with those filthy eyes of his.
"Lord Trancy, tell me, where is your powder room?" Rachel asked with a doe-like smile full of innocence and grace. He cut off the conversation with the boy to give her the directions. She stood and thanked him while Ciel watched her start to leave. Ever the opportunist, the boy jumped to his feet and hurried after his mother.
"I need to go, too!" he said with enthusiasm evident of his desire to get out of the boring conversation and room. Vincent laughed softly and nodded at them both, watching them exit before continuing some form of polite talk with the earl.
Rachel led Ciel through the golden halls of the Trancy manor towards the wash closet. She noted how eager he was to get out of the stuffy room with stuffy adults, and she didn't blame him. She didn't want to be in the same room as that disgusting old man any longer than she had to. Ciel had been polite, but she could tell that he was off-put by the old man's interactions as well. Children always have a strong intuition, after all.
Now he was skipping along down the hallway since no one was in sight, smiling and humming a song softly to himself that she knew he had to work on for his violin studies.
"Maybe we should hire you a dance instructor," Rachel commented, seeing her son frolic about the hallway. He paused to listen to her. "That way, you can dance with Lizzy the next time her family visits. She would enjoy that a lot, I think."
A giggle rose from her throat as Ciel blushed and quieted down out of bashfulness. Rachel gave him a sweet kiss on the head.
"Wait for me out here. You can run around a bit. I know it's tiring sitting there for so long," Rachel told him with a warm face. He nodded as she disappeared into the bathroom.
Once she was out of sight, Ciel began to wander on his own. This mansion was so much more decadently colored than theirs. Everything was painted in brilliant hues of blood red and sunlight gold. Some of the ceilings were even painted with all sorts of stories. Walking down this particular hallway, Ciel kept his eyes parallel to the ceiling as he took slow steps. His eyes were wide as he took in the magnificent paintings and followed the story, though he was completely unaware of the boy rushing down the rug towards him.
They collided magnificently. The other boy hurtled into Ciel and knocked the breath from his chest. They crashed to the ground atop the Persian rug, and Ciel struggled to find air as the other frantically got off of him, trembling with wide, scared eyes.
Ciel examined him. He was pale, but he had a very pretty complexion. He looked to be about Ciel's age, but perhaps a little older (or maybe just a little taller). He was wearing simple clothes that were nothing like the clothing Ciel always wore. He had light golden hair that reminded Ciel of the color of the center of the sun at high noon when it is too beautiful to look into. His eyes were the color of bluebells, but they were large and full of fear.
Suddenly, a palm was pressed against his lips, and another held the back of his head.
"Please don't scream!" the boy hissed under his breath with terrible anxiety shaking his voice. Ciel stared back with innocent eyes and nodded, prompting the removal of the hands. The boy quickly stood.
"Th-Thank you," he whispered as he turned, but Ciel quickly stood and grabbed his wrist before he could run.
"Wait, what's your name?" he asked softly, curious. Father had said that Benedict Trancy had no children, and yet… "I'm Ciel Phantomhive."
"I-I can't," he insisted, tugging at his wrist, "I have to leave, they don't know I'm back, but I had to-"
"Not until you tell me your name," Ciel demanded.
The other seemed baffled by the question of his name and stood there stammering. Looking at his face, Ciel saw that the shade of his hair and eyes reminded him of someone. "Wait, are you… are you Alois Trancy?"
This paused the other's stammering and caused his eyebrows to raise. Ciel smiled, sure that he had guessed correctly. "You came back!" he exclaimed in excitement.
"Yes, it seems he did." The voice of his mother came from behind the two boys. Alois looked up at her and seemed to shrink, but she only offered him a warm smile and a wink. Ciel smiled at her and tugged Alois closer.
"Mother, we must go see Father and Lord Trancy," he insisted, still holding Alois' wrist. His soft hand slipped down to hold the other boy's surprisingly rough hand.
"Of course. Let's not keep them waiting," she replied, walking with the two boys back to the parlor. Alois seemed nervous, not looking at any one thing for too long. Ciel could feel the clamminess of his hand and squeezed it gently.
"Happy birthday," he whispered to him, "I don't have a present for you, but I hope that's okay."
He didn't notice the rainwater tears that spilled over the boy's dirty cheeks.
"You know why I'm here, Trancy."
The old man was shaking in his armchair. Vincent could see it in the way his palms curled around the ends of the armrests and the way the sweat stains were spreading out from beneath his arms and around his neck. His lip was trembling, and yet behind the anxiety, there was an indignant spark of anger. As if it weren't his fault that Vincent were there. How pitiful.
"I figured it was only a matter of time until she sent her little lapdog sniffing around," Benedict managed to say with a shaky smirk. He seemed… confident. Especially in the face of Vincent rolling the steel black pistol between his hands.
"Lapdog?" Vincent asked. He let out an easy laugh. "Is that what they're saying now?" He stood, stroking the body of the pistol with his thumb. "That must certainly change, then."
He forced the barrel between the Earl Trancy's teeth.
"I can imagine that you are thinking to yourself, 'He certainly wouldn't murder me when his wife and child are around!'" The gun was pushed a bit further. "Am I correct?"
The size of the earl's dirty, rainwater eyes confirmed this for him.
"Rachel plays the part of pretty little woman quite well, don't you think?" he asked as he placed a hand on the head of the chair, right next to the earl's head, "But trust me, she has seen just as much blood as I have at this point. And as for Ciel… he's still a boy, and Rachel insists that we wait to reveal any of this to him, but he's still smart. He knows when to stay quiet."
He idly twisted the gun in the earl's mouth. The stench of sweat that rolled off of him was revolting. Vincent sighed.
"Now, Her Majesty merely asked me to stop these dead boys from showing up in the Thames," he explained, "Which I know I could solve very easily right now, but I have a proposition instead." The smirk that split his face brought tears to Benedict's eyes as he gagged on the steel in his mouth.
"You need not stop these foul activities of yours. While they disgust me, Her Majesty hasn't asked me to stop this for now. Just make sure you don't litter your trash all over the place like a filthy rat, or I will come back for you and squash you like the roach you are. You are the Queen's Spider, after all; show a bit of class." Benedict nodded enthusiastically.
Vincent smiled charmingly and pulled the gun out a little bit. "In exchange for my silence and your cooperation, you will begin investing in Funtom Company, starting immediately. Remember that the future of my company is now tied inextricably with your own future."
Trancy paled considerably, but nodded nonetheless.
"Don't try to run, because I will find you," he ended, pulling the gun from his mouth. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the saliva from the barrel as he returned to his seat. He tucked the weapon back into its holster beneath his coat and crossed his legs, smiling pleasantly at the earl. "After all, as the Queen's Watchdog, I'm awfully good at tracking down stenches like yours."
"Father!"
Benedict barely had time to compose himself as Ciel burst into the room, pulling an awfully familiar blonde boy along by the wrist. Both their eyes, so similar in color, went big at the sight of each other; one with fear, the other with rage.
"Oh? And who is this?" Vincent played dumb as he looked over the boy. He glanced at Rachel, and the look she gave him told him quite enough.
"It's Alois Trancy!" Ciel exclaimed, looking excitedly over at the earl. "It's his birthday and he finally came back!"
Fixed with that deep blue gaze, Earl Trancy fidgeted in his seat. Vincent joined his son in the same look. "My, my, is this true? Has he been here a while with you? You must have been keeping him secret for quite some time before introducing him back into society, am I correct?" he asked politely with eyes like steel.
"O-Oh! I mean, of course!" He put on his best warm smile. "I was going to wait until Christmas this year. He was gone for so long that he still has a lot to learn about being a member of noble society."
"Then I fully expect to see both of you at Ciel's birthday party this year," Vincent said as he stood easily, "Make sure he is well-educated by then, at the very least. And well-treated. It's good that your heir has returned to you. The Trancy line can continue."
Vincent approached the spindly blonde boy. His face was a picture of confusion, and Vincent smiled warmly at him as he squatted before him. "Well, Alois Trancy, I expect a lot out of you. Don't disappoint and make sure you take advantage of the opportunities handed to you," he advised with a soft voice, "And don't forget those who help you."
Though he still seemed bewildered, Vincent could see the understanding in the boy's eyes. He knew this boy would follow this advice. There was resolve in his face that Vincent admired.
He stood again and gently touched Ciel's shoulder. "Well, Benedict, it's about time we departed. We have a train to catch, so say goodbye, Ciel," he announced.
Ciel smiled up at him, then turned back to Alois, who had adopted a polite smile for the boy. "I do so look forward to seeing you at my birthday party next month," he said with that cheery voice of his, "It'll be all sorts of fun! And my cousin Lizzy will be there, too!"
The boy smiled wider. "I look forward to it, Ciel."
Pleased with this, Ciel hurried over to his mother, shouting a goodbye to Earl Trancy over his shoulder. Rachel waved politely and walked out to the carriage with her son in tow. Alone in the room with the boy and the earl, Vincent smiled at them both.
"I hope you do not misunderstand me, Benedict," he said, "I will be keeping a close eye on this boy's progress. Keep that in mind."
And with that, he left.
Ciel had begun to get drowsy on the train ride back, and he was asleep in Vincent's arms by the time they had reached the station. During the carriage ride back to the estate, Rachel and Vincent spoke in quiet voices as Ciel slept in his mother's lap.
"That wasn't part of the plan, was it?" she asked, softly stroking Ciel's hair.
"No," Vincent admitted, "But that boy will be of use in the future. It seems Benendict doesn't have much time as it stands, based on the infections of those boys."
"He will die soon and Alois will take his place," Rachel finished, "And good riddance. I hate to think about what he does to those boys. The way he looked at Ciel…" Her shudder was visible even in the darkness of the carriage. Vincent leaned forward to rest a comforting hand on her knee.
"But soon he will be gone, and that boy has a good heart. Ciel liked him, at the very least. It's important that he begin to foster these alliances," Vincent murmured, looking down at his sleeping son. Rachel nodded in agreement.
"Soon he'll have to start learning how things really are…" she whispered sadly, pushing the hair out of his face. Vincent squeezed her knee softly.
"Soon, but not now."
Rain began to patter softly outside.
In the language of flowers, primrose means 'childhood', tuberose means 'dangerous pleasures', saffron means 'beware of excess', and oleander means 'beware', making Rachel's hat choice a very interesting one for this particular visit.