That Watchdog, Leashed
…
It is with my deepest condolences that I reflect upon the loss of your brother and his family. Our hearts are united in grief, and I am deeply saddened by this tragedy.
Oh, I bet you are, Frances Phantomhive-Middleford thought to herself, her fingers almost tearing through their knuckles and the expensive parchment gripped in them. She knew just what the name of Phantomhive, and her brother, meant to the woman who'd written this letter. Knew just what she had lost when the Manor had burned down, the bodies recovered, and the signet ring discovered.
When Frances had lost her little brother, her new sister, her beloved nephew, and her daughter's future.
Outside her mother's study, Lizzy laughed and ran about batting a metal hoop with her practice foil, because she hadn't been told yet.
It would do me great pleasure if you would come to tea with me, the arrogant letter continued. Having lost my own husband, I know the way loss can settle like a demon's touch into the human heart. It would do my own a relief to speak to you on your brother and his family, to reflect and remember all they were and have done, and they have done so much good for the Empire.
Frances pinched her lips together because biting her tongue was not fit for a woman of Society.
If you would, it would delight me if you would join me for tea this Thursday at four o'clock.
Sincerely,
V R
Frances folded the letter in half and ran her pinched fingers along the crease to sharpen it. Her throat wished to tighten, but she did not allow it. It would have a collar around it soon enough.
Because there was only one reason this woman would have written to her, and not to her husband. This was not about the Empire's knights. This was not about the Middlefords. This matter was about the Phantomhives. The very, very last shred of the House of Phantomhive. And the role that it was Frances' duty to perform, by virtue of the curse of that name.
England's Evil Nobles, the Queen's Watchdogs, had all been put down. And now it was Frances' turn to be leashed, the last of her litter, and made Victoria's bitch.
She glanced again at the folded letter, turning it several times between her fingers and considering its weight. The texture of its fine teeth.
Outside, Edward was scolding Lizzy for running over his foot when she ought not to have been playing in the narrow hallway at all, while Lizzy cried and apologized because she was a sweet child with a kind heart.
The smooth, heavy paper slipped out of Frances' fingers and into the fire. She stood up and smoothed her skirts. But she was the Lady of a House of Knights, a Daughter of Phantomhive; she would not miss an appointment with her Queen.
[END]
...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Forgive this rather odd little snippet of a FF. It's my headcanon that, during the month between the deaths of "all" the Phantomhives and Ciel's return, the Queen placed the title and burden upon the only living Phantomhive remaining-Frances, Vincent's older sister. I don't know whether she would have ever been given a mission in that short time (besides maybe an investigation into what happened to her family), but the collar had to be transferred from the dead pet to the next one in line; something Frances would undoubtedly chafe under. But you can't bite the hand of your master unless you want to be put down.
So this was just an exercise thinking about the letter that would have come; have words, will write. Thank you for your patience in reading this!