Without You I'm Nothing: A Rule of Rose Fanfic
Note: This fanfiction was inspired by not solely Rule of Rose but also the Placebo song Without You I'm Nothing. As such I do not own either the song or Rule of Rose. Atlus and Placebo have those honours.
Author's Note: This shall likely be rife with OOC characterization, since in some cases I did not find that enough characteristics were included to make the girl more than a cliché. I shall do my best to ensure that the portrayal of the girls in this story are respectful and accurate to the original. I do not own anything except for the couple who adopt Eleanor-the Montahagans.
Chapter One: One Less Corpse for the Pyre
**Rose Garden Orphanage-Cardington, Bedfordshire, England-March 10, 1930 10:30 a.m.**
Gloom. Such was all that permeated the entirety of the stratosphere-at least that was what the twelve year old Eleanor surmised.
Eleanor was an ornithological enthusiast-the crimson plumed aviary occupying the gilded cage resting upon the polished, marble railing the mahogany quaffed schoolgirl morosely reclined behind. It was perceived as "filthy" or "simply not done" to sit upon the ash gray wooden floor (despite it being consistently cleaned) but the perception of her peers was a facet that the waif did not allow to daunt her.
There was a "royal" hierarchy among the orphans at the Rose Garden Orphanage; Eleanor herself deemed "Countess" in this fictitious, albeit malicious, "domain" that she occupied overseen by the "Aristocracy" known as The Rule of Rose. Though Eleanor's vestige of minimal enjoyment from her minute position of power was certainly evident, all the child wished for was freedom from the dreary, hate-mongering, militant atmosphere of the orphanage. If only she were to be adopted, but families came and families went; none passing a glance at the aloof, gangly youth but preferring the more lively girls or the enthusiastic, carefree boys.
"Eleanor, it's no wonder you've been passed over all these years with how little you care to come out of your shell." Diana, the fourteen year old (in her typical, antagonistic, arrogant fashion), "true" queen of the house and the absolute bane of Eleanor's existence chided her time after time but one can only step so far out of their shell before their entire personality becomes irreparably altered to the point of being unrecognizable as the same girl.
Despondently, Eleanor pulled her knees to her chest-the lewd position unfazing her as the brownish-orange hem of her dress was gripped absently between her right thumb and forefinger. The red flowers along the hem began to billow and sway as a gust of wind caught the material and forced it upward (Eleanor pushing the flap of material down if for nothing else than for modesty's sake)-the girl crossing her legs at the ankles forcing her bare toes to press into the cold wood beneath them.
"Am I truly hideous, Albert?" Her eyes affixed on the aviary swaying upon his perch, the query would have been barely audible even if another human HAD been on the northern balcony with her and not merely a bird (HER precious bird), but since Albert was all that served as company for her he uttered a simple chirp in response. "*Sighs* Yeah, that's what I thought. Even Jennifer would be more likely to be adopted than me." Known as the "Cold-hearted Princess", few could attest to knowing what the immensely aloof and jealously private Eleanor was thinking at a given time-much less be permitted access within her inner circle and bestowed with this...
Eleanor began to sob; the tears saturating her rough dress.
"Dammit *Sniffs*, now I'm *Wheezes* just like that crybaby Olivia." Wiping her eyes with the back of her left hand (first the left eye than the right), Eleanor rose to her feet and began to amble towards the glass paned, oaken door leading back within the house when the sputter of a 1928 Cadillac V-16 was heard coming up the narrow road leading to the orphanage-Eleanor halting momentarily.
Eleanor knew better than to get her hopes up, even when such a situation could present itself for her to be adopted; the child, shaking her head, turned retrieved her feathery companion and returned within the prison she so desperately wished to escape.
The slam of a car door tore ten year old Jennifer's attention from the joyful embrace she was entwined within on the part of her forbidden lover. Brunette and petite, cowardly and meek all surmised Jennifer- the orphanage's doormat on a reasonable day, and Shaggy Rogers when Diana opted to inflict torment upon her targeted member of the orphan population on most others. Jennifer's lover was, for the time, not solely a forbidden fruit by the orphanage's standards but by society's at large.
HER name was Wendy: blonde and pretty, confident and the rock of their relationship giving Jennifer hope and serving as the sole human who brought her joy at the orphanage. She was also the actual "ruler" of the orphans as the "Princess of the Rose", and head of The Rule of Rose. She was not the eldest member of The Rule, at eleven, but her brilliance, cunning and shrewdness garnered her the respect of all of the orphans in the house. Despite this, Diana was not afraid to speak her mind to the younger girl.
Their relationship was pure, true and one that they could never discuss with the other orphans, else Jennifer be further ostracized than she already was; the young girl's relationship with Wendy likely not mattering to the greater populous of the house and would not be a means of protection for her and her being the subject of torment and ridicule only serving to become that much more compounded. This era did not accept same sex relationships as readily, and those in them were forced to keep it under wraps.
Jennifer and Wendy were clad in matching gray dresses with equally matching white pinafores-Wendy opting for a white bonnet, with pink ribbons jutting from the sides and tying at the chin. Jennifer did not own a dapper hat like Wendy's, and despite Wendy's numerous altercations with her fellow "Aristocrats" petitioning that a hat be stolen for her "sister" Jennifer, Diana responded with a virulent "THAT filthy girl? I'd rather eat after a swine." and stormed out, finally, from the meeting room. Save for Eleanor, the remnant of the Rule of Rose were not at all receptive to the notion; Eleanor replying with "Just steal one from Martha. The old bag goes out every Tuesday to the grocer, so wait til she returns and nick her bonnet off the boot of the auto."
In theory, that would have worked out smashingly if not for the "headmaster" and collective tyrant to all of the orphans: Mister Hoffman-the eyes and ears of the orphanage, and a damn ruthless individual (despite his outward signs of geniality).
Diana loathed him, his fondling of her young body and the consistent rape which Clara had, sobbingly, confided in her. This one facet was the sole thread which bonded Clara and Diana (Clara the only individual in the entire house whom she could call "friend"). Hoffman had been accused by Martha, on a handful of occasions, of being involved in such lascivious behaviour with the older girls, but never had evidence for which to display as her trump card; Diana was among Hoffman's victims, and it took all of her resolve to not sneak into his room at night and slit his throat in cold blood (too many accusatory ramifications on the part of the immensely suspicious Martha). Also, such peon work was beneath her.
Eleanor was indifferent to him-neither preferring or disliking him one way or the other. Hoffman did not pass even the slightest hint of a lustful gaze at the spindly wisp of a girl more concerned with her pet finch than human interaction. To Diana, Meg or any of the orphans' knowledge Eleanor did not have any "friends". Oh, certainly, she kept amicable relationships with her fellow Aristocrats, but when someone does not even have one true friend she becomes less than desirable. Even if Eleanor did possess one friend, Hoffman preferred his girls young but with jailbait curves-a trait Eleanor did not have, being petite.
Meg, an eleven year old blonde who (though book smart) could not see that the object of her affections (Diana) did not reciprocate said affections, but being that she loved the cruel and malicious Diana she followed her every whim. Much like Eleanor, Hoffman's lecherous eyes would not fall upon Meg until she attained "womanhood"; the filthy old man's penchant for the distasteful never surprising the more attentive members of the household. Unfortunately, or fortunately for her in this case, Meg was not attentive and would pursue her amorous attractions until they either drove her mad, to drink or to take her own life.
Jennifer was the sole member of the household who did not dislike Hoffman. She, in fact, sought his approval and did all she could to stay clean, be respectful and stay out of mischief; mischief, however, magnetized to her whether she liked it or not. "Dirty Jennifer" would never be on Hoffman's radar, even if she blossomed into an attractive young woman with her hair in a stylish bun. "Filth is filth, and I cannot, shall not tolerate it in my house!" The disgusting old man repeated this time and again to the poor girl; Diana finding a way to "spectate" each and every time, and finding (each and every time) harboring an emotion she would NEVER admit she held for the younger girl's predicament: jealously.
Jennifer and Wendy were in the garden behind the orphanage-had they bothered to look up and to the left they could have seen Eleanor retrieving her bird before she reentered the estate, but the doorway back inside was tucked just so that they could not see her retreating back within or while she reclined upon the wood.
Both Jennifer and Wendy HAD heard the sputtering of the vehicle, but although Jennifer was the sole member of the duo to outwardly display a level of excitement to regard its arrival Wendy smiled at the possibility that they could both be adopted and live their lives together away from that terrible place even though venturing into the house at that juncture would entail releasing her lover. However, if she and Jennifer were adopted, who would replace her as Princess of the Rose?
"Wendy, my love, did you hear that? [Wendy does not react right away-merely giving a smile and a nod] This could be our chance!" The jubilant Jennifer's gleeful smile stretching across her face brought Wendy's lips to the brunette's cheek.
"Darling, [Purses her lips together] as deeply as I wish for that to be a family to adopt us I do not want you to get your hopes up only to have them dashed." The blonde tightened her embrace around her lover's middle-kissing her cheek again.
Wendy truly did love Jennifer (would do anything to make her happy)-her possessive clinging to the girl aside-and longed for her "Prince" to think for a moment, slow down and consider all of the variables before dashing off into a heartbreaking circumstance which would only await her. Within her ever calculating mind, Wendy repeated one phrase: "Don't bring the dog. Don't bring the dog. Don't bring the BLOODY, FILTHY mongrel! You're mine, Jennifer." Despite the disdain she held for Jennifer's Labrador puppy, Brown, she kept her outward emotions in check-Jennifer none the wiser.
"We'll never know unless we go and see for ourselves." Jennifer smiled at the pretty blonde clutching her, kissed the older girl's lips; pleading, hazel eyes penetrating into Wendy's deep blue oculars.
Wendy released her with a smile. "Of course, my love. We could start our lives anew away from this miserable place."
Quickly getting to her feet, Jennifer aided her girlfriend upward; the couple, hand in hand, dashing through the garden gate at an even pace, past the underside of the balcony, creeping past the side, kitchen door in trepidation that Martha (the housekeeper) would hear them.
As they rounded the side of the house and halted, the Cadillac was parked at the gates of the estate; a couple, early thirties Wendy surmised, standing at the entrance to the establishment conversing (inaudibly) with Hoffman.
The gentleman was of average height, average build and did not strike the girls as anyone of importance, but Wendy and Jennifer had to find out more, so they quietly retreated back the way they came and into the side, kitchen entrance.
"Mister Hoffman, I'm Brian Montahagan. Me and Delores spoke wit' ye last night." His voice was as un-English as his attire (Hoffman unable to place the accent). Montahagan's wardrobe waxed very...American with his brown derby atop blonde hair which fell downward over deep, blue eyes, brown with green pinstripe suit, powder blue button down and no tie. Montahagan extended his hand to the elderly man standing in the doorway but a foot in front of him.
Brian Montahagan bore the air of a man born into luxury, raised in Boston but trying his absolute hardest to imitate the "tough guy" from New York. His body language spoke volumes to the pedophile standing in front of him-Hoffman knowing the type, but not convinced this was not merely an act (praying that these two individuals were not going to rob him at gunpoint, ala Bonnie and Clyde).
Delores was quite attractive, and her attire complemented her rouge packed cheeks, crimson lips, pale skin and shoulder length red hair (tight curls scrunching the locks on the sides of her head in a seemingly painful manner). Her navy blue with white daisies dress hung loose about her spindly, gangly, skeletal frame-as though she were a coat rack. Ivory white high heels shod her petite feet-Hoffman inwardly inquiring if the woman before him was as old as she claimed to be or if he was gazing at an incredibly attractive teenage girl based on her frame (the overtly lengthy, double stranded length of pearl necklaces did little to help her case with him pondering whether she stole her mother's clothing that day to be with her older boyfriend or if she was, indeed a thirty-two year old woman). The icing on the cake was a black, pillbox hat with tiny, ebony feathers jutting out of the top haphazardly sitting daintily upon her fiery locks-a loose, mesh netting draped over her face.
Delores absently twirled her purse by the strap as though a London Liberty & Co, crocodile skin lasso-the extra long strap winding about her fingers causing light indentations to surface when she unwound the strap, reached into her purse and fished out a package of bubble gum, popped a piece into her mouth and began smacking it.
Brian shifted his stance in his black, crocodile shoes while taking in the ambiance of the estate before him.
Rose Garden Orphanage was not what he was expecting. He had expected perhaps a one story, modest structure that was cute, in name only, but nothing spectacular like the mansion he had driven up to.
Brian had stopped in Ampthill to ask for directions to Rose Garden-the city hall secretary taking no time at all to provide him with detailed directions to the lavish homestead.
"I grew up there meself, sir. Left when I was eighteen, says I." The secretary's bright smile beamed back at Brian-her brunette hair tied into a bun (a pencil shoved through it).
Hoffman smiled warmly-the usual din of the orphanage precisely what the Montahagans were used to-shaking the American's hand.
Brian and Delores had passed by twenty-four other orphanages in the surrounding six regions, but each one had children whom appeared even more sickly than the last (both Montahagans' hearts breaking for them, but they simply did not have the room to take them all). Then, perusing a daily newspaper, Rose Garden Orphanage popped out in bold, black letters with an oversized ad right in the middle of the fourth page. Brian wasted no time to inquire about the place, and received glowing remarks from the community at large (some of those providing information, like the secretary, having grown up there themselves only to be adopted and moving onto holding successful, stable lives).
"It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. [Retracts his hand and retreats backward a few steps, opening the door for the couple] Do come in." The Montahagans passed across the threshold into Rose Garden Orphanage-the couple stopping in the centre of the entryway hearing the door shut behind them. Hoffman popped his neck-the stiffness therein from the night before, having engaged in (yet another) "pleasurable" night with the resident nurse: sixteen year old Clara. A man of his age knew when the girls did not enjoy it, but that drove home the enjoyment all the more. It was a power trip for him, and he would be damned if a little stiffness took that away.
The front room was exquisite-much more than Brian would have dreamed would be within an orphanage. These children were obviously well cared for.
Cedar paneling served to make up the the entirety of the wall from where he stood at the entrace all the way as far as he could see to the furthest recesses of the back of the house, and likely beyond. Twisting, turning stairs arched themselves to the right and upward about fifty feet from where the couple stood; a mahogany quaffed, wisp of a girl watched the couple from the top of the first set of stairs (she always watched everything which transpired in the house; it being preferable to be informed than to be out of the loop).
Xavier and Nicholas, the former dubbed "the Gluttonous Prince" and the latter "the Sloppy Prince", were dueling with branches that had been stripped of their twigs just to the left as the couple entered; Hoffman ordinarily berating them for their horseplay, but with his attention affixed on the young couple he did not notice the duel taking place even in such a close proximity. Xavier was clad in an undersized, gray with black, horizontal stripes long sleeved shirt which barely covered his pudgy belly, black short pants and brown short boots. His messy, red hair bobbed to and fro as he strafed to the right; just dodging a thrust from Nicholas' usually well timed swordplay. However, this strafe had unforeseen consequences.
As Xavier strafed, he stumbled backwards and collided into Brian's well toned, muscular left leg.
"Oh, bloody hell!" Hoffman threw up his hands in disgust-Xavier cowering, expecting Hoffman to beat him with his riding crop or (at the very least) a ruler. Nicholas backed into the shadows-his "sword" tossed into the nearby umbrella stand but Hoffman was no fool. He may have been a lecherous old man, but his eyesight was impeccable. "Nicholas! Get over here and greet our guests." Nicholas poked his head into the front room-the lad's blue, denim overall strap sliding down his skinny left arm (exposing his white t-shirt covered shoulder underneath) causing him to shove it back up; the "knight" dashing over to join Xavier before the Montahagans.
"Don't be fearin' us any, kiddos." Brian's handsome, mustached upper lip turned up into a smile as he knelt down to the two nine year olds' level. "My name is Brian, boys. [Places his hands upon his pinstriped knees-Xavier and Nicholas nervously eying him] My wife cannot have children, so we're here to adopt." The knightly duo grinned happily-high fiving each other as Hoffman's perpetual scowl towards the boys shifted into relief. "What are your names, boys?"
Xavier bowed-the chubby boy elbowing Nicholas to do the same.
"My name is Sir Xavier, and [Thumbs to his slender companion] this is Sir Nicholas. We're both nine." Hoffman nodded in approval-his coaching the children on what to say may have felt scripted, but it did serve as the ice breaker for every family who wandered into the orphanage and happened to wish to even fancy chatting with the swordsmen.
Brian laughed gleefully-the pair of adventurous rogues certainly energetic, but...
Xavier cocked his left eyebrow as he caught a whiff of a strange odor emanating from Brian; Delores reaching into her purse and offering the boys some of her gum (both boys happily taking a piece).
"Oi! Mister Brian, you smell strange." Hoffman's eyes shot open in horror-the elderly man rushing forward and clamping his left hand over Xavier's incredibly loud, horribly rude mouth.
Brian released a short "Hmmm?" then proceeded to lift each arm and sniff himself.
"OH! [Brian chuckles- knowing the smell-as he stands upright] That would be from my last expedition to Africa, boys. I study aviary of all shapes, sizes and colors, and some o' their scent must'a clung to me." Xavier and Nicholas glanced at one another and shared the similar look of "The shit is an aviary?"
Delores leaned to her husband-her pearls rattling as she whispered in his ear.
"Doll, why dontcha just tell the boys whatcha mean? They ain't like me what's been on these trips with you." She was absolutely correct, and with a nod to his wife, who returned to her standing position, Brian reached into his inner, jacket pocket and retrieved a minute, aluminum case. Little did he know that the mahogany quaffed girl had made her way down the stairs, with her birdcage and was listening as intently as the distance from the bottom of the steps and Brian would allow.
Eleanor knew, with a certainty, what "aviary" meant. While the two slobs standing before the well dressed man could never appreciate the nuances of differing species of finches, Eleanor, after bribing Meg with doing the bespectacled girl's chores for an entire month, was able to receive aid in learning about all of the known species of birds; Meg arrogantly throwing in her own two cents of what she "understood" to be true based on the books. After being aided in learning all that she could from what the library had available, Eleanor's passion for the ornithological implanted itself deeply and birthed within her a desire to pursue that as a profession when she was older.
Hearing the word "aviary" from a clearly wealthy man caused Eleanor to stealthily creepy from the stairs, across the foyer, and into an an alcove adjacent to the one Xavier and Nicholas had previously occupied. She wished to hear everything this fellow had to say.
For once, a family arrived who was interesting, and for all she knew he was a veterinarian or a nature photographer. She had done just that herself-stealing Hoffman's camera from his closet and carefully positioning it on her balcony so she could observe passerby birds in their natural habitat and capture their beauty to appreciate later.
The man had pulled out a stack of photographs from his jacket (that much she had seen prior to moving closer to him) and now he was passionately describing the differences between the Hildebrand and the Superb starling-complete with photos. If only she could see those pictures herself, but with Xavier and Nicholas only a few feet away she could not risk it without them poking fun at her once again.
"Eleanor smells like poop."
"Do ya ever clean that filthy cage, Eleanor?"
She was used to the twits' ignorant form of bullying, so while she could take it she did not want to "take it" while simultaneously trying to enjoy herself in a legitimately fascinating discussion.
She cursed under her breath-her forgetting of her tiny notebook that Meg had given her to take research notes on by leaving it under her pillow in the dorm.
"To hell with it. I have got to talk with this man." Eleanor's determination to get closer was interrupted by Albert chirping in his gilded cage beside of her. "Shit..." The soft curse uttered, Albert ceased his chirping (as though reading his master's discomfort).
Brian grinned. He had noticed the wispy, mahogany quaffed girl creep closer to him out of his peripheral vision. Sure, his lecture on the differences between the starlings was boring to the two boys before him-Xavier's eyes having glazed over and Nicholas forming a trail of drool from his mouth to the floor-but this girl seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. Even if he HAD not been paying any mind to his surroundings, a lone bird's chirp was all it took to alert him.
"Mister Hoffman, [The elderly man edges close to the young American] who's the dame what loves birds?" Hoffman was taken aback by Brian's interest in the young ornithological enthusiast-the elderly man's gaze following Brian's nodding in the direction to where Eleanor hid.
"Oh, that would be Eleanor, Mister Montahagan. You will be lucky if you get any sort of response out of her though." Brian exchanged a joyful gaze with Delores-Xavier and Nicholas having woken up from their respective daydreams-before stepping past the two boys and heading the ten feet to where Eleanor hid.
Brian sat down against the narrow part of the wall-Eleanor starting at the sudden presence of another human being-and shuffled the pictures in his hands (the young American motioning for Delores to join him-the trendy, streetwise gal obliging happily, her heels clicking soundly against the tile).
"So, m' young aviary enthusiast, you are Eleanor then." The ordinarily stoic girl poked her head around the corner and nodded-excitement in her eyes. "My name is Brian Montahagan. My wife here's Delores. I study, photograph birds as a hobby." He handed the stack of photos to Eleanor; the ordinarily restrained youth snatching the photos, and exhibiting more emotion in that moment than she had any other time the past year (save for when she could indulge in some birdwatching-before Hoffman confiscated HIS camera and grounded her for a week).
"Do you like them, sweety?" Eleanor was transfixed by the absolute grace and beauty exhibited in the photos-she feeling like she could reach out and touch the birds in them, but knew that would just be silly to try. Her own photos, fortunately for her, were able to be hidden before Hoffman could have a chance to confiscate them as well. Maybe she should show this kind man HER photos...
"Yes. They are...They are wonderful, sir." Her reply was barely audible-the mumbled utterance halfway between a whisper and a yawn. Then, Eleanor did something that Xavier and Nicholas or Hoffman, for that matter, had ever seen her do: she smiled. She smiled a legitimate smile of pure joy.
Everyone in the orphanage knew that Eleanor adored her bird, and had been know to be furious if anyone even so much as looked at her bird with malicious intent, but smile? Never.
It wasn't all tooth and gums in its fullness, but it was clear that Eleanor COULD express joy-this stranger breaking down the barrier (of abject apathy) she had implemented to keep herself safe from those who would harm her. Now, with his expressed desire to adopt-as explained to Xavier and Nicholas-was she going to be...?
"Hey! We have never seen ya smile before, Eleanor." Xavier, for once, did not have any sort of smugness or mischievousness in his tone. It was an observation, and that was all. "You should do it more often." Xavier gave a thumbs up-Nicholas speechless and frozen in place, as though the mere fact Eleanor smiled would rip apart the very fabric of space around him.
Hoffman was stunned as he approached the young girl. This stranger, an American of all people, was able to break down Eleanor's barrier of stoic, absolute indifference, and make her smile.
"No family ever shows affection for Eleanor, Mister Montahagan. Most tell me that she is too glum and detached to ever wish to have as their own." Hoffman nodded in approval-impressed. "Would you wish to bring her into my office? I have her file on record if you were thinking about..." He didn't finish the sentence, for in that moment Eleanor did what was even stranger to see than simply smile: she hugged Brian-the photos falling into the folds of her skirt and staying there.
Hoffman's jaw dropped, Xavier nearly fainted, and Nicholas was gazing about at the walls to see if they were coming undone from this unnatural turn of events.
Brian hugged the girl in return-patting her slender, near anorexic, back.
"Eleanor [Releases the hug, but holds onto her shoulders-Delores weeping at the beautiful scene as she sat down by her man's side] I am a filmmaker by trade. Come from a few generations back worth of wealth, luxury and fame." Eleanor remained silent-her eyes never leaving his, to see where this was going. "[Gets more comfortable upon the floor-Delores resting a hand upon his thigh, smiling at the preteen] Birdwatching is more than a hobby f' me, doll. I own a preserve back home in Mass." Exchanges a gaze with Delores-uncertain of exactly how to phrase the next bit.
"What da hubby here is strugglin' t' get out, love, is how'd ya like t' come back to America and live with us? We could be ya momma and daddy and you can have anything money can buy, but more importantly you'z 'll have a family." Delores's sweet smile waxed soothing to the petite girl-Eleanor having no inkling of a notion how to react to this incredible offer.
"I don't...[Tears fill the child's eyes-another facet of her being the occupants of the manor had never seen-as she sits back on the floor and gazes down at the pictures in her lap, to Albert who merrily hopped about on his perch and to the couple who are strangers wishing desperately to be parents and adopt a child]" Delores throws her arms around Eleanor, but unknown to the trio a sinister fourteen year old watched from a hidden spot in the railing adjacent to them. "So many families have come through, took one look at me and said "No" because of my size or that I did not speak to them, but my love for birds shares a bond with yours and...I can have a family? Is this actually happening?" It seemed too good to be true, but both slender and incredibly muscular arms surrounded the child assuring her that this was, INDEED, happening.
"Come now, you lot, we must'nt dawdle if we are to get Eleanor here adopted. There is an interview to be had, paperwork to fill out and I haven't even asked if you want more than one child." Brian was clearly new to this, and those details had slipped his mind-the filmmaker releasing Eleanor and his wife (getting to his feet and helping the ladies to theirs).
Eleanor quickly put the photos back into a proper sort and handed them back to Brian.
"[Smiles, pushing them back to her] You can keep those, honey. I was hoping to adopt a child who I can share my love f' birds, and filmmaking techniques with. No other children I have spoken with have the love for birds that you do, Eleanor. Those were meant for the one who I can pass on my preserve and fortune to." Eleanor trembled-her legs buckling, but Brian steadied her.
The young girl took a deep breath and grinned gleefully-the happiest grin Hoffman had ever seen a child in the house give, without it regarding mischief. She knelt down, the knowledge of a new family awaiting her, grabbed up her birdcage; stuffing the photos into the waistband of her dress as Hoffman led them across the foyer, into the reception room, and into his office.
"Hey! What about us!" Xavier and Nicholas charged after the happy, new family.
"So, she intends to leave us, huh. Good, bloody riddance." Diana sneered at the retreating group-the teenager gripping the banister tightly as her fingernails dug into the wood. "Shit...now Meg will be having a sodding high head about this since she'll be promoted. Can't let that happen, can I." Chuckling to herself, the girl in the striped dress pushed away from the banister, took a left and disappeared into the dormitory.
End of Chapter One
Next Chapter: The Interview
Will more children get adopted by this wealthy eccentric? Stay tuned to find out.