CAST FROM THE GARDEN
By Sapadu
"But... how can this be?" Crehador heard Merry Weather's uncle gasp, even as his hand extended, as though to touch the babe and assure himself it was real, before he hesitated and pulled away. Crehador could not find words to express his shock, while Oscar seemed to be the only one not completely struck dumb or amazed by this event. Rather, Oscar put his arm about Merry Weather's shoulders and continued to stare down at the babe in her arms with a mixture of contemplation and devotion in his eyes.
"That is why I asked for Lord Crehador to stay- even though we do not know who sent for you, if something is amiss in the House of Hargreaves, I trust you to know and be able to tell me." Merry Weather explained, soberly looking Crehador straight in the eye. Crehador swallowed a little, more than slightly taken aback by Merry Weather's declaration.
Then again, he shouldn't have been surprised. She wasn't making a request of him, not in the least. It was the same sort of arrogance he'd become accustomed to coming from her brother- the confidence that people would do as they were told just because Cain had told them to do it. And, of course, it always worked. Even Crehador hadn't been able to resist an order from the Earl Hargreaves.
But Merry Weather wore this confidence like another gown. She flaunted it's best aspects and concealed it's worst with ease and skill and the fact that she was a lady who could gracefully weave a command into a request that was simply undeniable to obey made her just that much more crafty. Crehador understood completely why she did it.
"If this is what the Lady Hargreaves wishes for..." Crehador finally replied, evenly. Merry Weather allowed a small smile, even as the old man coughed a little and ushered the men away as Merry Weather departed to oversee the setting of a proper guest room for Crehador.
"What is it that you needed to speak to us about, Uncle Neil?" Oscar asked the old man, whom was looking grim. It was enough to catch Crehador's interest.
"It's something I actually needed to ask you about, erm... Oscar..." Neil replied, quietly, even as Crehador leaned back to watch, "...Did you have, shall we say... any siblings? A brother or a sister? Someone else in the Gabriel family that was disowned?" Crehador listened with half an ear, but felt fairly sure that he knew where this was going. Oscar didn't.
"Uncle Neil... why...?" Oscar stammered, but there was a serious look in Neil's eye.
"...It was Cain's wish that Merry Weather never be told of this... but... her true father was not Alexis..." Neil whispered, almost conspiratorially. Crehador was not surprised by this revelation- he had known the long passed Earl Hargreaves well, and his strange propensity for tormenting his children was no secret. The fact that he never once directly caused harm to Merry Weather for the sake of hurting her had been a dead giveaway for anyone who knew him that she was not his child. The only time she'd ever been a target of his plans was for the purpose of causing Cain suffering, really.
"...So... Merry's not..." Oscar whispered. Neil had a pensive look on his face, almost content, except there was also a sense of grief.
"The Hargreaves officially adopted her into the family under Cain's leadership, and both Cain and I never saw her as anything less than a true sister and niece. But, no... by blood and birth, she was not a true Hargreaves... in truth, the head of the servants was her real father..." Crehador watched the two speak, wondering why HE'D been called aside for something that sounded like a family matter more than anything else.
Oscar looked pensive for a moment, before he finally spoke.
"Well... if this is truly that important... I DID have an elder brother, once... He fell in love with some woman from the lower classes and father... well, he was... displeased, to say the least..." Oscar paused, "But I never really spoke with him that much, so I never knew what happened to him... even if he'd been disowned, I doubt he would have gone on to become a butler or anything like that..."
Neil sighed, before turning to Crehador at last.
"In any case, Lord Crehador, the matter of you being summoned here without even the knowledge of the servants... Do you still have the letter that you received?" He asked. Crehador cocked an eyebrow, but withdrew the letter from his inner pocket and handed it over. Neil examined it, then sighed.
"It's no good- I don't recognize this handwriting... from the slant, it must have been done with the left hand... but we don't even have anyone on staff who is left-handed. I can't imagine that any of the other Hargreaves would send this, when none of them know about your association with Cain... or, if they did, I don't see how they knew that any of US knew about it..." Neil muttered, distastefully, until Crehador stopped him.
"Is there someone new on your staff, perhaps? Who might be hiding something?" Crehador asked. Oscar immediately answered.
"There was the chamber maid- the one Merry Weather was abusing during her labor. But she's several weeks old in this household... and in any case, this letter reads 'Please arrive at the Hargreaves manor on the date of the birth of the new child of Lord and Lady Oscar Hargreaves- the 14th of April.' Nobody in the house could have known Merry would give birth today- everyone from the head butler to the stable boy were convinced that she wouldn't be due for at least another month. Even the doctor said so." Oscar took the letter from Neil's hands and scanned for something else that might give them a clue, before he sighed with frustration, "Arg, it's no good. I don't know who would even be able to write like this... 'We wish you to be present at the christening and baptizing of this child'... 'The new manor is in Weston, the country mansion'... Even the signatures... it would have to have been either myself, Merry Weather, or Neil who wrote this from what they know..." Crehador took the invitation back before Oscar could crumple it in his frustration.
"In any case, I'm an unwelcome guest in this house, I might assume?" He asked, irritably. Oscar's demeanor changed immediately.
"Ah ha ha... no, not at all... Merry had every intention of contacting you once she was due... don't be ridic-"
"After all, you're the only one who returned after brother's confrontation with his father." Oscar practically jumped a foot in the air as Merry Weather held the door open to the room. Her expression was irate and Crehador could hear one of her feet tapping on the floor with impatience, "I was coming to inform Lord Crehador his room is ready, but I wasn't aware I was interrupting anything..."
"Ah... Merry... dear..." Oscar stammered, even as Merry shot him a warning glance, "Er... we were just wondering... um... what to do about this er..." Merry's hard look didn't cease, and Oscar's stammering fell silent.
Merry Weather continued to glare, before her features softened.
"Oscar, is it true you had an older brother?" She asked, quietly. Oscar blinked for a moment, then looked away, "Your father wasn't easy to please, was he?" Oscar scratched the back of his head.
"Well... for me, he didn't really ask for that much... but, what can I say? I must have a natural propensity for not meeting others expectations of me... my brother though... my father had some unrealistic expectations..." Oscar admitted, almost sheepishly, but Merry Weather was surprisingly tender. It was enough to make Crehador wonder if she'd hit her head or been possessed.
"I'm beginning to wonder if I judged you too harshly, Oscar darling." Merry Weather said, quietly, even as she raised a hand to touch her husband's face. There was a beat in which Merry and Oscar shared a long, warm gaze.
"BUT YOU NEEDN'T WORRY, MERRY! EVEN IF YOU AREN'T TRULY A DAUGHTER OF THE HARGREAVES FAMILY, I STILL LOVE YOU DEARLY- YES! THIS DEEP, UNENDING PASSION OF MINE IS FOR MERRY WEATHER, ALONE, AND NEVER SHALL I FALTER FROM IT!" Oscar finally cried, throwing his arms around Merry Weather and ranting in the usual manner that was much more customary of his displays of affection. Crehador felt a sweat drop running down the back of his head, before Oscar was shoved away from his wife by the punch she gave him in the stomach.
"Don't grab me like that, you fool- do you want to smother the baby?" Merry Weather demanded, scowling. Oscar doubled over and coughed for a moment, but eventually regained his composure.
Ah, that was more like it.
"In any case, Lord Crehador, allow me to show you to your room."
The room was familiar, for the single time that Crehador had ever been inside it. A majestic bed with large drapes and a canopy stood in the middle of the floor, the room covered in lavish rugs and expensive paintings, even with it's own private bath attached. The only change was that it was now draped with black instead of the usual dark colors which had been elegantly suited to it's former owner.
"Lady Hargreaves... are you sure you've shown me to the right room?" Crehador asked, looking about, "I could swear this is... the previous Earl Hargreaves' room."
"Oh, I'm fairly confident this is the right room..." Merry Weather replied, serenely. Crehador gave her a backward glance, but Merry Weather had turned her back and left the room, with only Oscar in the doorway, looking crestfallen.
"I'm going to assume that Lady Hargreaves has just given me the room YOU normally occupy..." Crehador said, quietly. Oscar heaved a sigh, but smiled as he shook his head.
"No... Merry Weather hasn't let anyone enter this room except the maids to keep it tidy..." He confessed, looking slightly reminiscent, "...Just so it can be ready... whenever he comes back..." Oscar said, idly straightening a few pictures that hung on the wall despite the fact they weren't crooked to begin with. Crehador knew that Oscar just didn't want to look at him.
"Well, in any case... I hope you have a pleasant nights' sleep... while the two of us will probably be awoken at some ungodly hour by the baby..." Oscar finally said, grinning again in that manner that couldn't possibly be sincere. Crehador raised an eyebrow at the Lord Hargreaves.
"Have you two decided on a name, yet?" He asked. Oscar didn't answer, but left the room, quickly.
"Goodnight, Lord Crehador." And the door clicked shut, leaving Crehador doubtful that he would have a good night's rest.
Lord Crehador...
Crehador was used to hearing voices calling to him like this, ever since he was young. Spirits and ghosts had always been closer companions to him than other living beings, even from within his own family. He was also fairly confident that, given the Hargreaves history, there would be a spirit or two lingering in this room, whose last owner had sent many a foolish criminal to their just reward with his poisons.
Thus, the voices he was hearing calling his name didn't disturb him as he continued to leave his eyes shut, trying to sleep.
Lord Crehador, please awaken.
Crehador simply turned over and covered his head with one of the overstuffed pillows. Good Lord, how did aristocrats SLEEP like this? The bed was filled with goosefeathers whose quill-like ends poked through the cloth and pricked his skin like needles and the blankets were so heavy, he almost felt like they were smothering him. Combined with the flannel cloth of his nightshirt and woolen undergarments, Crehador was sweltering in this bed. Granted, Britain was always chilly, even during summer, but how did Cain STAND this?
To beg your pardon, Lord Crehador, this is rather urgent and I do not have all night.
It was, however, a first when ghosts started saying they had a deadline.
"Whereas I do have all night and no pressing urgency- give me one good reason I should talk to you." Crehador mumbled into the pillow. The voice sounded familiar, but Crehador couldn't quite place it.
For one thing, I have a message from that lady friend of yours- and she was quite insistent that I give it to you, not someone else.
THAT got Crehador's attention. His eyes opened and he sat up with dizzying speed, happy to throw off the heavy, overbearing comforters, before his eyes were met with the most unexpected sight he would ever see in his life- including the resurrection of the Card Master's sister, the murder of his Sheila, and the strange Earl of Poisons who actually gave a damn about people regardless of their class or race.
"Y-you are..." He stammered, staring at the ghostly figure who was, for all appearances, standing firmly on the floor at the foot of the bed, still wearing that pressed suit and tie, and with a stoic, but comforting expression in those icy blue eyes, "N-number sixteen in Delilah's Major Arcana... the Tower..."
Riffael Raffit's gaze did not falter, even as Crehador continued to stare and stammer.
A/N: O-kay... Yeah... this is going to be a relatively short fic... like, four chapters. Because, I know what the basic premise will be, but I'll need some advice how to finish it up.
I am, at heart, a Cain/Riff shipper, but most fics out there are... really OOC. I rather liked their relationship as it was- all homoeroticism, but never more than just a touch. It just... suited both of their personalities. As such, we will see much servantly-ness from Riff in this fic, and that will be that. Just being clear.