CAST FROM THE GARDEN
By Sapadu
A/N: This fic is otherwise known as 'I know I should be working on my other fanfictions and homework, honestly I do.' But it HAD to be done.
Dominic Crehador heard the commotion the moment he entered the front door of the Hargreaves Manor, no matter how deep into the heart of the place the actual event might have been. For one thing, the arched hallways, tile-lined floors, and marble walls echoed every sound with the precision of a conductor waving his baton. For another, Merry Weather had always been a very strong, spirited young woman, and her voice was proving to be every bit as loud on this occasion. The butler barely had time to take Crehador's hat and coat before the medium strode down the hallway in the direction of the noise.
Oscar was somehow out of his element as Crehador approached, completely unnoticed as the former Baron Gabriel paced a rut in the fine carpet. It was somehow unnerving, but at the same time, humorous to see him so distraught and unlike himself. Though, Crehador supposed it was only natural for him to be so worried at a time like this. Eventually, however, the pacing began to get on Crehador's nerves, to the point he finally cleared his throat and allowed himself a smirk as Oscar jumped about a foot in the air before he spun around and recognized his guest.
"Oh... Ha ha ha... didn't see you there..." Oscar finally managed a fake, but familiar grin, even as he waved for Crehador to take a seat in the parlor, which he accepted with a similar air as though Oscar hadn't even offered it to him. As Oscar was used to Crehador's attitude, he said nothing, but took a seat himself and proceeded to fidget even worse than before.
"I'm sorry, did I come at a bad time, Lord..." Crehador knew very well that he had not come at the best of times, but felt no remorse, nor did he intend to make anything easy for Oscar. However, as almost the whole household was aware of this fact and well accustomed to it, nobody was in any position to scold him. Oscar blinked at Crehador's trailing address, but laughed, nervously again.
"It's Lord Hargreaves now... but only in the same way that, under a normal marriage, Mary would have become Lady Gabriel, if you understand that..." Oscar assured him, before getting back to his feet and starting to pace again. Crehador ignored him.
"So, Lady Hargreaves has been doing well for the last few months, I would assume?" Crehador continued in his enfuriatingly calm voice. Oscar kept pacing, didn't answer, until one of the attending maids in the room curtsied respectfully as she spoke.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir? Would you and Lord Crehador be wantin' some tea?" Oscar continued to pace as Crehador watched him in the same bored, but fascinated manner that a cat watches birds outside the window. Oscar waved the maid away.
"No, no... everyone's busy enough taking care of Merry... I couldn't ask for tea at a time like this..." Oscar sounded... tired, which was yet another first. Not that Crehador really cared- it was just amusing to see how such a simple event completely changed a man around. Not to mention that there was a strange level of consideration he was showing to the servants that he normally never did. Still, it was something that was considerably amusing.
"I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to make the tea yourself, did it, Lord Hargreaves?" Crehador finally asked, scathingly. Oscar laughed, albeit a little sarcastically, and shook his head.
"I wish you could hear yourself sometimes- I don't have the faintest clue how to do it, and even if I did, I'd be liable to break the teapot." He returned, somewhat sharply but with good humor enough that Crehador was satisfied the new Lord Hargreaves hadn't been possessed or kidnapped or something of that sort. God knew that enough of that had happened in this household with it's old master.
"So are you saying you would make ME do it? It's rude to force your guest to prepare food for them and yourself." Years of being cast down from the aristocracy had taught Crehador how to perform the mundane tasks of life that most aristocrats couldn't do to save their fortunes or skins. Included among those tasks had been tea making and while Crehador knew his tea would probably never be touched by Merry Weather, he did know it was good enough to calm her husband.
As soon as the herbs had steeped in the hot water enough and two cups poured, Crehador saw Oscar visibly calm, though that may have been the large amounts of brandy he'd downed with his tea more than the original drink. In any case, he stopped pacing the floor and his hands stopped shaking enough that he could hold his cup without spilling the tea everywhere. At this point, Crehador began to ask his question again.
"So, has Lady Hargreaves been well recently? You seem inordinately unsettled, it made me wonder if her health had declined in some fashion to make you worry like this." Crehador began again. Oscar shook his head and waved the concern away.
"No, Merry Weather's been perfectly fine... if nothing else, the last month or so, I wondered if the CHILD would be alright with how active she's been. All the doctors say that too much walking and exercise is bad for the baby, but Merry... you know..." Oscar waved his hand to accentuate his point, though Crehador understood much better than Oscar probably knew. After all, she had grown up in the slums of London and when her poison-dabbling brother took her in, their butler had been a medical student as well. Given such an unusual combination, Crehador and Oscar both knew that Merry Weather probably did not set much store by doctors, especially if she considered them hacks.
"So is something else amiss in the household?" Crehador asked, even as they both heard a very impressive explicative in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Merry Weather's from the other room. Oscar looked up with surprise and even Crehador couldn't deny his surprise, though he mostly found humor in the shocked looks on the faces of the maids who were standing beside the door. Oscar regained his bearings long enough to assure Crehador nothing else was wrong in the house.
"I suppose I'm just worried about Merry, that's all..." Oscar finally said, "...From the way she's been screaming like this and how the maids have been bustling about and the midwife and the doctor coming in and hurrying... It makes me worry that something might be going wrong with the baby... that I should be in there to help her in case she gets hurt..." Crehador listened with half an ear, while the other kept sharply attuned to the string of swear words that he was amazed the Lady Hargreaves could draw the air to shout. If nothing else, he was beginning to wonder if there was nothing wrong with the birth itself, but just the doctor and midwife were being superstitious and going by a number of practices that Merry Weather disapproved of.
"Childbirth is a battle that only the mother can fight. There is nothing we men can do to help a woman in a time of distress like this, because she is the only one who could win." Crehador finally said, sagely. Oscar sighed, then shook his head, putting it in his hands.
"It's not just that, but... I'm starting to wonder what would happen... what if something DOES go wrong that I could have prevented, but Merry dies because I wasn't there? And then, what would Cain say to me for breaking my promise?" Oscar asked. Crehador could feel his expression change to one of appropriate shock, as this had been the last thing he'd expected. Then, added to the fact he had been the last one to see the infamous Earl Cain C. Hargreaves, alive or dead, it brought a completely different aspect to the puzzle- one which he did not enjoy considering.
"You and Merry Weather still believe that he is alive, then?" Crehador finally asked, pouring some more tea into his own cup and helping himself to the bottle of brandy Oscar had left within his reach. He was thus quite surprised when Oscar's hand reached out and firmly gripped his wrist, before the Lord Hargreaves looked up with a venomous look that Crehador not thought him capable of.
"Do not say those words." Oscar growled in a low, menacing voice. Crehador was surprised- he would admit that- but also a little afraid as he was wondering if it was just the liquor talking or if this was truly Oscar Gabriel Hargreaves speaking, "Do not ever say those words in that voice." And then Oscar released Crehador's wrist and allowed him to pour himself a stiff drink.
It wasn't anything personal that he'd brought it up, but Crehador almost resented Cain for stringing these two along, keeping them thinking he would come back someday and everyone would be together again. It almost tempted the medium to just tell them outright that he'd seen the corpses under the tower rubble... never mind he had been the one to give them false hope by leaving that ring in a place Merry Weather would find it.
Secretly, he wondered what the two had DONE with that false signal of Cain's return. If Merry Weather decided to wear it, or just kept it in a glass case, or if it was gone for good.
There was a long moment of quiet, interrupted only by the maids outside the room hurrying from the other doors, into other chambers of the house, and back in with various artifacts. Even Merry Weather's screaming had stopped, giving both men pause, before the big doors opened and the doctor came out, liberally covered in blood. Oscar was out of his seat in a flash, though Crehador remained seated and supremely unimpressed with anything that was going on before him.
"Merry? Is she alright? Is she still alive? What of the child? Is it alive? What happened? Why was there so much screaming? Why..." Crehador tuned out most of Oscar's questions, but couldn't help but be a little curious- after all the cursing and blaspheming that had come through the other doors, all this sudden quiet did seem a little suspicious. There wasn't even the sound of a child crying.
Eventually, the doctor managed to get a word in between all of Oscar's rambling.
"Lord Hargreaves, I assure you that nothing is wrong- I merely needed to report a few things before I took my leave..." Oscar stopped screaming. Crehador sipped his tea, then poured himself a larger glass of brandy, "Your young wife, for one thing, is a very difficult patient to tend to. I thought it best to ask you, for the sake of her health, to try to urge her not to resist and argue with doctors in the future, regardless of what they might prescribe. It made it considerably difficult for us to care for her when she utterly refused to do as we asked. Quite frankly, I'm amazed the child survived labor at all."
Ah, so Crehador had been right about the superstitions of the doctor. Idly, he wondered if he'd tried to bleed her or something of the like to prevent hemorrhaging or to let bad blood out during labor. It was exceedingly amusing to imagine someone approaching Merry Weather with a scalpel with such intent when all who knew her well enough would have feared for their lives.
"Ah... I shall try to reason with her..." Oscar replied, even as Crehador knew he would do no such thing, "What else was there that worried you?"
"Well, while your wife and child are alive, I cannot be sure that the child is healthy..." The doctor continued, fidgeting slightly as though afraid of Oscar's reaction, "...As you can hear for yourself, the child isn't even crying... I'm quite worried that something is wrong with how well it can breathe..." Crehador listened half-interestedly to the medical proceedings, more interested in the fact that the good doctor was failing to use the word 'he' or 'she', instead referring to the child as 'it', "Then... there are some very... alarming developments... I'm sure you will see it for yourself when you finally see your child but... well..."
Oscar seemed to have picked up on the same thing Crehador had recognized.
"The child... is it a boy or a girl?" He finally asked. The doctor fidgeted again.
"That's... another difficulty we are having... you see, we cannot be sure..." The doctor finally explained, before quickly changing the subject, "In any case... I would advise that you see to it that your wife get plenty of rest and food, some fresh air, but not to much sun, and I would begin searching for a nurse to care for the child." That was another laughable piece of advice- if Crehador knew the young Lady Hargreaves at all, he knew that she would blatantly refuse to let some stranger care for her child.
Oscar assured- and by assured, Crehador knew that he was also lying through his teeth- the doctor he would follow his instructions to the letter, before bidding him goodbye and having a footman see him to the door. Oscar then returned to his seat and poured himself another drink or four while Crehador waited to see how well he would keep his false promise to the doctor.
Sure enough, within three minutes of his departure, the midwife ran from the other room in tears, promptly followed by Merry Weather, who was being followed by a terrified-looking maid. In her arms, Merry Weather carried a babe, wrapped all in white, her own dress rather messily done as though just thrown on at the last moment. It was more instinct than anything else that made Crehador stand the moment she came through the door, even as Oscar tripped over his own feet mimicking the gesture.
"Oh, sit down, both of you." She snapped, irritably, prompting Crehador to smirk. It was something of comfort that Merry Weather had adopted her older brother's habit of disregarding all propriety and manners deemed 'necessary'. She had even let part of her shift under her dress show and her corset wasn't even done. If any of this disturbed Oscar, he gave no indication.
"Merry... I think you should just know that the doctor doesn't want you up and about for a few more days and we should get a nurse for the baby..." Oscar began as his wife took a seat next to him, but with a look on his face as though he was asking her exactly how she planned to disregard these orders. Merry Weather shrugged, looking down at the child in her arms.
"I've been kept off my feet entirely for the past three weeks- If I don't stand and walk around sooner, I'll go mad." She replied, tartly, before raising an eyebrow at Crehador, "Lord Crehador, I wasn't aware that you'd come to call." She began congenially, even as Crehador kept his face perfectly neutral, reaching into his inner pocket and withdrawing a letter.
"That's surprising, Lady Hargreaves, when I received this invitation to stay for a visit from this house..." He offered, extending the envelope with it's cracked wax for them to inspect. Oscar took it, looking sincerely shocked. To be precise, the letter had been an invitation for Crehador to be present for the birth, christening, and baptismal of the young Hargreaves, and thus, stay at the manor for a few days time. This was clearly what Oscar was discovering as he read the letter and examined the crest.
"It's no doubt from someone in the house- but neither Merry nor myself wrote this..." He finally concluded, before adding, "Besides... both of us thought that Merry wouldn't give birth for at least another month..."
Crehador frowned, more than a little perplexed, even as Merry Weather sat herself a little more comfortably back on the couch and the babe in her arms made a strange noise that almost sounded like a gurgling chuckle. It was enough to make Crehador wonder exactly what the child looked like, but Merry Weather was holding him or her in such a way that Crehador couldn't see a face or even a head.
"It's possible that one of the servants sent it..." She mused, even as the maids standing nearby paled, "...But then, we would have noticed someone going through our desks to find writing paper and the seal." The same maids visibly relaxed. Briefly, Crehador wondered why they would be so terrified by Merry Weather's words, before it occurred to him that she must be even more strict about running a household and even pickier regarding her servants behavior than most ladies.
"...I don't suppose that your Uncle Neil could have sent it?" Oscar finally asked. Merry Weather blinked for a moment, then frowned. Crehador felt a sense of distinct unease, being sent an invitation, but not being a welcome guest by either of his hosts.
"It's a thought- I'll ask him later." She finally amended, before another maid brought in a tray of tea, this time with cookies and biscuits. Crehador accepted the cup but did not drink, while Merry Weather mostly left hers on the table, unable or unwilling to touch it with her arms full. Even Oscar didn't seem much in the mood.
"I hope your trip wasn't too much trouble, in any case." Oscar finally attempted to bring some proper conversation to the awkward silence even as Crehador smiled, politely.
"Not at all. The roads are quite dry." He replied and the attempt at conversation abruptly ended, before Crehador stood, feeling more than a little pressured, "Since it would appear my presence is not appreciated, I should take my leave and return to London." He said, bowing just a little, but even as Oscar stood to call a footman to see him out, Merry Weather gripped the tail of his coat and pulled her husband firmly back down.
"Oh no, Lord Crehador- It is my wish that you stay for dinner, by all possible means." Merry Weather was smiling, but in a strange way that reminded Crehador of that predatory smirk her brother would wear when distributing his poisons.
Oh, bloody hell.
"With all due respect, Lady Hargreaves, I do not wish to impose..." Crehador tried, but Merry Weather's wicked smile grew, ever more.
"It would not be imposing- how could I possibly think a man who aided my dear older brother in his most dire hour a burden? Even if this man DID insinuate that the Hargreaves' old master is dead when everyone in this household is still awaiting his return?" Merry Weather continued, that smile now looking a little strained even as Crehador understood that she was inviting him to stay, not out of generosity, but to punish him for his moment of doubt.
Damn. She WOULD have heard that statement. Damn, damn, damn, and blast it.
"Oscar, my dear..." Merry Weather continued, "Have our butler set an extra place at the table tonight."
Double damn. Double, triple damn.
Supper was a quiet, almost strained affair that night, as the Hargreaves treated Crehador with a sweet, if morbidly so manner. He should have known better than to even broach the subject of Cain with any one of them in the room, while Merry Weather seemed to have recovered from her labor rather quickly and was caring for the child that Crehador had not yet seen fully. To be more to the point, nobody had seen the face of the young heir yet, save for it's mother.
It was after supper that Merry Weather called aside Oscar, Crehador, and the old man whom was Merry Weather's and Cain's uncle. Crehador had only met the man once, so he didn't remember any name, but just the same, there seemed to be something important she needed to discuss with them.
"I couldn't tell anyone about this with all the other members of the family around, or even the maids, given how sensitive the topic is." Merry Weather explained, looking around as though expecting someone to be listening in. Crehador caught the glance that Oscar gave him, even as Merry did, apparently, "And I felt it would only be right for Lord Crehador to hear this, as well. Because it concerns my older brother..."
Crehador felt a spike of interest in this, but felt his suspicion grow ever stronger as Merry Weather continued to stare at the child in her arms. He could not, for the life of him, understand what this newborn babe had to do with the previous Earl.
"The doctor told me he couldn't figure out if this child is a boy or a girl... and I am not sure myself, either... but more important than that... I would like all of you to see this child's face." And Merry Weather pulled the blanket over the child's head aside. It was bald, covered in fine down hair, and round and shapen as any newborn babe's face would be. For a moment, Crehador didn't understand what it was they were looking for, before the child's eyes opened, just for a flickering moment and Crehador heard the other two men, along with himself, gasp as a glimmer of gold peered at them from under those eyelashes.