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chapter 2: Mysteries and Perception
Dylan was dressed and ready when Cain walked into the dining room three days later. Her stepmother was visiting some family, and taken her siblings with her, while her father was at some sort of society meeting.
She was dressed far more casually this time round, though she still looked somewhat uncomfortable. Her dress was a light blue, with white trimmings and her hair was plated back, away from her face. As usual, she looked stunning.
"Please sit down, my lord Hargreaves," she said stiffly, rising.
"Then you must not stand," he replied, coming round the table, lifting an almost dainty hand to his lips.
He shocked to see her hands were not as smooth as he had first perceived. They were pited with small scars and the calluses of work. But he allowed his observation to go unnoticed.
She sat and smiled at him, "please do what something to eat. I always must eat in the mornings, I fear I would faint if I did not."
There was something oddly stiff about her formal speech that should have come far more naturally to someone of her birth.
"No no," he dismissed, "I have already eaten. But please, do eat yourself. I hardly know what to do if a woman such as yourself passed out in my presence."
She smiled, and began eating again, but he could have sworn her heard her mutter in a positively cockney accent "sure ya don' luv" but her lips barely moved and the comment could have been a whispering breeze, had they not been within the confides of a house.
She finished off her meal, and to Cain's utter bewilderment, she picked up her own dishes, and cups and carried them from the room. Curious he followed her.
"I am just taking these down to the kitchen," she said, noticing his measured footsteps, "I shall only be a moment."
Confused, Cain went back to sit down. If Dylan still had secrets up her sleeves, this one truly prepared him for her being very odd. No lady in her right mind would help her servants, let alone clear after herself.
He heard her very slight heels coming back to the room again, he stood again, respectfully.
"Shall we go?" she asked, smiling at him, she linked her fingers in her front, her eyes meeting his squarely.
He noted momentarily that her eyes seemed to be particularly green that day, but very much unlike his own. He crocked his arm towards her, and graciously she took it. Again he felt stiffness that he was unaccustomed to when a lady did such a natural action. Mary was indeed right. His curiosity was well and truly lit.
"What of you bags, Lady Dylan?"
Dylan briefly closed her eyes, and then opened them again; she stopped and looked up at Cain. "My Earl Hargreaves," she said, sounding almost angry, "I am to stay with you for a fortnight, I will not have my host refer to me as 'Lady Dylan'. My name is Dylan Sedgewell, you will call me Dylan."
"Dylan…" Cain tried the name on it's own, it felt strange. The creature on his arm was a regal figure, and one where the title of Lady came quite easily. But at the same time, it felt far more comfortable. "Very well Dylan," Cain inclined his head, "what of your bags?"
Dylan smiled briefly and began walking again, Cain following her. "Luke took them out," she said, easily, "your butler… what was his name…?" she paused her speech for a moment as they passed through the atrium towards the front doors. Her cheeks went slightly pink, from embarrassment, "oh dear… I had better ask him… well, your butler helped him load them up."
"You trust your servants not to take anything?"
To his surprised, Cain felt her grip on his arm tighten slightly, then release as though she had caught herself in time. "Of coarse. I trust them with my life, physical and spiritual. How can one have a servant they do not trust?"
Cain was again surprised by her serenity. 'Well said my lady,' he thought, 'very well said…'
The passed through the front door where they were greeted by a young stable boy. He could not have been older than perhaps eleven or twelve, but by the expression on his face, he and Dylan were well acquainted.
"Yer bags are packed, miss," he said, a very thorough cockney accent deforming his words.
"Thank you, Mark," she said, beaming at him, "don't forget to feed Mitzy."
"Tha' ol' girl won' le' me miss," he said, rolling his eyes.
Dylan laughed. "How well I've taught her," she joked, then became serious, "and don't you dare try to provoke master Sebastian… I know what he's like when I'm away. I'm not entirely stupid. Don't give him any reason to trouble you."
"Gotcha miss," said Mark, looking very humble indeed, "you 'ave a good time now miss, tell miss Mary I tell 'er hey."
Dylan rolled her eyes in return, "you'd tell her yourself if you were coming."
Mark became solemn, "but Cassie needs me here. You c'n look afta yerself, we know it."
Dylan laughed again, and reached out to ruffle his hair. "Get going scamp," she grinned, "tell Cass bye from me and sorry I didn't stay to say it myself."
Mark nodded, bowed at the waist to Cain and ran off quickly in the other direction.
All the while Cain had kept quiet, realising again there was far more too lady Dylan than he had first thought. How many ladies did he know that would wish their stable boy good bye and be on such good terms with him?
He helped her into the carriage, but she lent on him so little, he suspected that she didn't need her help at all, and followed her soon after.
As he sat he heard her speaking to Riff.
"I am so sorry," she said pleasantly, "I have completely forgotten your name. Please tell me again, I promise I won't forget."
She sounded almost childish, and her sincerity was to be reckoned with. Riff sounded so surprised to appear to be higher in status between them. He was far too used to Cain telling him what to do to be comfortable with Dylan smiling up at him, asking him cautiously what his name was.
"Riffael," he said, calmly, nodding modestly towards her, "Riff to all at the Hargreaves' estates."
The carriage moved off, rocking them slightly, the gravel crunching beneath the wheels.
"Riff…" Dylan said the name to herself, delicately, then she grinned at him again, her slightly off centre teeth pearly white in the dimness, "I'm Dylan. I hope I won't be too much bother while I stay."
Riff glanced at Cain for a moment. "I'm sure you won't, my lady," he said respectfully.
Dylan frowned, slightly. "Riff, I would be most honoured if you did not call me lady, I am slum born- and still not used to the ways of the upper class. Please, call me Dylan. I am far more comfortable with that title than the one my step-mother gave to me."
Again, surprised shot through both men in the carriage. They glanced at each other, before Cain looked out the window and Riff looked back to Dylan. "Of coarse my- uh… Dylan."
"Thank you Riff," she said softly, and turned her attention to the book now in her lap. Cain hadn't even noticed her bring it on, then noted she had picked it up from beside her, he reason one of her servants had brought it on for her.
He glanced at the title, and was surprised to see it to be a Machiavellian book, a play called 'The Prince'. Again he was surprised. Few ladies took an interest in philosophy, let alone the depressing theories by Machiavelli. All about hierarchy and government; how corrupt they both are.
He studied the sharp face, with her dark hair and brows, long thick eyelashes, framing the constantly changing eyes.
'How many more…?' the earl wandered, quietly, looking back out the window, out onto the streets of London, 'how many more surprised will you have in store for me, pretty, strange girl…? How many secrets will you reveal to me…'
They arrived at the estate a few hours later. They had made several stops, but only because Cain had a few house hold errands to run. Otherwise the journey had gone smoothly. Cain almost forgot that Dylan was in the carriage with them, she had kept so quiet. Reading her political and philosophical book. Occasionally she would make a sound that he could not decide if she was happy or angry about a comment made in the book.
By mid afternoon they had arrived back at the estates.
"Welcome to the Hargreave Mansion," said Cain, opening the door for her. He made a move to get out before her, but she got there first, practically bounding off the carriage, looking up. Her mouth was slightly open as she gazed upwards.
"It's beautiful," she said softly, looking up.
"My family home," Cain replied.
Dylan looked at him sharply. Oddly enough he didn't sound happy about it. She ignored the tone, and decided to carry on with the almost air-headed charade she was so good at. But at the same time she wanted to bring her bags in.
Lucky for her, she was interrupted with a squeal, and a small light body jumped into her arms, knocking them both to the floor.
She laughed as she hugged Mary back. "C'mon you goose!" she said, voice muffled, "let me up! You're squashing me."
Mary got up, and stood quickly, so as not to dirty her dress and further. Much to their surprised, even his own, Riff was the one helping her to her feet again. Taking her gently by the arms and lifting her to a standing position. She wobbled momentarily, then gained her balance.
"Thank you, Riff," she said, happily, bowing her own head towards him lowering her eyes.
Riff said nothing, but bowed at the waist, and left to take care of the bags. Dylan took half a step forewords to help, then changed her mind and turned her attention to Mary.
"So… Mary…" she said slowly, "What do you propose we do first?"
He watched after his sister and her friend, frowning to himself.
There was a wicked glint to Mary's eyes as she took a firm hold of Dylan's hand and pulled her along towards the house, talking about nothing in particular. Evidently Dylan understood, but Cain simply could not comprehend what the females were saying to one another.
"Riff," he called.
"Yes, my lord," came the quick answer.
"How much do you think you could find out about the Sedgewell family?"
Riff blinked in surprise. "There's quite a lot to know, sir, and much of it I know already."
Cain looked up at Riff. The butler knew that look all too well. "Come Riff, tell me all you know." He started walking towards the house; Riff following close by, the servants collecting the few bags that Dylan had brought.
"Alfred Sedgewell is a business man, dealing in housing and hosting events. He makes a lot of money that way. The family is from old money, so he has no need for work."
"Yet he still does."
"It is many of the household's belief that he does it simply to be busy and get out of the house."
"What of Lily Sedgewell?"
"Noble family, not all that rich. Her father clawed his way up from his own father's ruin and made a name for himself quite easily." Riff paused. "Lady Lily Sedgewell is Lord Sedgewell's first and only wife. But Dylan Sedgewell is not her daughter."
"As is well known, she was adopted."
"She was the illegitimate child of lord Alfred with an old servant, who left just before she found herself pregnant. Lord Sedgewell was not aware of Dylan's existence till she was little over one years old, and living with her grandmother. Her own mother died of small pox when Dylan was six months."
"This you learned from Mary, I take it."
Riff blushed slightly. "I wished to learn a little of Lady Dylan's past, seeing as she will be staying for a while."
"Anything else?"
"Lily Sedgewell was the one who opted to adopt her, when Dylan was three. Ever since she has lived as a Lady of the house." Riff trailed off. There was something troubling him. Cain caught the pause, and looked straight at Riff.
"Dylan's used as a governess in that house, and she is so voluntarily. She looks after her siblings almost better than any sister- she's almost a mother to them. But at the same time, there are periods of time where her locations do not add up, according to many of the servants. When I spoke to the little Stable boy… Mark, he became very defensive. She has an odd relationship with her servant, lord Cain… and a very strange life. There are things that truly do not add up."
"Things Mary probably knows," Cain murmured to himself softly, "considering she took my little sister under her wing before I was aware of her existence."
A look of almost jealous crossed his aristocratic features. He now almost resented Dylan thinking about it. She was close to his sister, and had known her for the time that he should have known her. It simply was not right that one of no blood relation to her should have taken her so fully under her wing.
"My lord Cain?" came Riff's voice. Cain looked up at him, "do you wish to enter the house?"
Cain looked up, the door was opened, and he was glaring at the carpeted floor. Riff's face was as impassive as ever, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Just the slightest one.
"Yes, Riff, I do," Cain said, walking into the house, hearing a shriek of laughter from upstairs, and thumping of feet on the door. He looked up, seeing Mary rushing after Dylan who had hold of a teddy of the little girl's.
Cain frowned as Dylan turned around, skipping backwards mockingly, her hair was out loose and flying around, her eyes were alight and happy, her mouth was turned up into a beautiful, proper grin.
Cain scowled. Who was the girl? What was she doing? How did her mind work? Cain both loved and loathed mysteries. But in this case, he had the feeling that this mystery was not going to be easy.
